She Said–My Blonde Story

 When I got married to my Hunni, he was living in Ecuador, South America.  That means that I moved there also.

That means I worked there.

That means that I taught school there.

That means that I had to look somewhat “professional”

Which means that I occasionally had my hair cut there.

We always went to the same little salon.

That played the same music.

Where the same nice young lady cut our hair while humming to the same music.

Our Spanish was somewhat limited, so we said the same greeting,

Gave her the same Gospel Tract,

and gave her the same invitation to come to a Gospel Meeting.

She gave us her same sweet smile,

Murmured the same vague “perhaps someday”

And hummed along to the same music.

When we paid and left, we said our same well rehearsed, 

“Good-bye, and it would be nice to see you at the Gospel Meeting at the same location.”

.

This happened about every two weeks (Hunni needed a cut) for one year.

.

We came back the The States for summer vacation where I decided to become a “summer” instead of an “autumn” and dyed my hair bleach blonde.

Two weeks after returning to Ecuador, Hunni decided that he needed a haircut before school started, so we headed to the same little salon.

Expecting the same reception,

the same music,

the same sweet lady,

and the same greeting.

BUT!

when we arrived our sweet lady was HOSTILE.  She wouldn’t respond to our same small talk, and gave me the EVIL EYE.  She was also rather rude to Hunni.  It was rather unsettling, so I decided to head to the pharmacy next door and pick up some “unmentionables.”  I hung out in the pharmacy for a bit longer than necessary wondering what I had done to get the EVIL EYE. When I re-entered the salon, both Hunni and the Sweet Lady were laughing very hard.  Sweet Lady came over and touched my arm.  She said, “I didn’t recognize you with blonde hair.  I thought he was with another woman!”

.

OOOOhhhhhhhhh! How I loved that Sweet Lady.  She had gone out fighting for me. Despite cultural and language barriers she had defended another fellow woman and wife.  (Hunni said that she racked her comb through his hair, and he was quite worried when she brandished the scissors.)

.

Our relationship changed that day.  It was no longer “canned”.  John and I tried out new Spanish phrases even though we often got them wrong.  Sweet Lady would occasionally say a word in English, get it wrong and then laugh. A ten minute haircut began to take thirty minutes.   She never did come to a Gospel Meeting, and we stopped inviting–not because we didn’t want her there, but because we did.

I trust that I will see Sweet Lady again.

Here are some Ecuador photos to help you place us.

Here we are singing.

Hunni and his “other woman.”

 Hunni is teaching math.  If you are wondering what walking on stilts has to do with math, I did too.  In fact, I wondered about a lot of Hunni’s “teaching.”  Those kids seemed to be having WAY too much fun for a math class.

 I taught art and art history–love them both.  Here is a student of mine and some of the art work.

In everything that changed.  One thing did not, and that was the music.  It went on and on and on and on with the same beat. 

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love to ya all,

“the other woman”

P.S. I found the very first photo of the license plate in one of my albums.  Although I tweaked the photo in Photoshop, it is not a rebecca original.  I have my suspicions that it came from Neil Hall.  Neil, if this is your photo, thanks for letting me use it.  If you want it back, you and Allison will have to come visit us and take it by force.

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