Chronicles of a Barber: The Journalist and the Psychologist

By Erick Hernandez

HAVANA TIMES – This young man whose head I have in my hands is a psychologist, or something along those lines. He studied a degree called Health Psychology. I’ve been his barber for a few months now. His hair isn’t difficult to cut, and he’s also good company. He says he’s looking for work.

“I used to work in Varadero, at a hotel, but when they cut staff, I was let go,” he explains, glancing at himself in the mirror out of the corner of his eye.

As a result of measures taken by the Trump administration at different points during its term, combined with the decline in the quality of services that has been going on for years and the nationwide blackouts, some companies have closed their hotels in Cuba. In Matanzas Province, especially in the municipalities along the northern coast, many families depended on tourism. Now, most of those workers are out of work.

“But didn’t you graduate in Health?” I asked him, although I already suspected the answer.

“Yeah, but I never worked in that field. I live here alone, renting, and the salary wouldn’t have been enough for anything.”

“I did more or less the same thing,” I reply. “I studied Journalism, but I do this to make a living. I write here and there from time to time.”

A few months ago, marked the first anniversary of my graduation from the University of Havana’s School of Communication. By then, I had already rotated through several of the so-called official media outlets and had seen enough to know that I wasn’t going to practice my profession through conventional channels. I was ready to take on the world, one bite at a time—or so I thought. But when I tried to conduct an investigation without the backing of any state media outlet, I found that officials wouldn’t give me statements. After several attempts, I realized that I wouldn’t be able to practice journalism, at least not consistently. So, I decided to learn a trade, because I was no longer at an age when my parents should have to keep supporting me.

We had always had a hair clipper at home. A huge Wahl that heated up and vibrated in your hand like a drill. I used to cut my father’s hair, and I got a certain pleasure out of it, like popping bubble wrap, something oddly satisfying. At the end of 2024, when I found myself without a clear way to support myself financially, I called a barber friend and asked him to teach me.

 I didn’t take any courses, but I spent several mornings watching how he handled the clippers, and how high he went with each cut. In short, technical things that I also learned from the YouTube videos he had recommended. Instead of reading, at night I watched tutorials by David Falla, Dany Stylez TV, Corte y Estilo TV, and other educators.

Those were busy weeks, a productive period. Little by little, some relatives and friends agreed to be my guinea pigs, and I could see myself improving. There’s something satisfying about that too, something almost academic: learning and applying, learning and applying. I took pictures of every haircut and compared each one with the previous one. There even came a point when people started paying me! I felt a kind of usefulness, as though I was having a direct impact on reality.

Many university friends have found themselves in the same situation. The lack of appeal of state job offers, bureaucracy, and the centralization of processes in government institutions lead many young people to choose an independent path, hoping to emigrate and use their university degrees in another country. My girlfriend, also a Journalism graduate, worked in a café; a friend studying Medicine is waiting to graduate so he can open a tattoo studio; a former high school classmate studied engineering and now does nails at home. The list could go on, but my client tells me that, as it happens, he is about to start at a new place that very day.

“I think I got a job here at the kiosk on the corner, working nights. When I left Varadero, I started working at a butcher shop, but the salary was low and they paid me onto a bank card.”

Getting paid onto a card is terrible.

Another problem for recent graduates—and anyone who works for the State—is that their salary goes directly into their bank account. “By transfer” is how this payment method is known. In theory, it’s more convenient and efficient, but the problem arises when bank branches don’t have enough cash for people to withdraw their money. It creates a chain reaction in which no small retail business accepts “transfers.” So anyone whose money is on a card either has to stand in long lines at the bank to withdraw a small amount of cash or convert it into cash through dealers who charge around 30%. That means 15,000 pesos on a card ultimately becomes 10,500 in cash. That is another reason young people whose salaries aren’t enough look for other options.

As often happens when you’re starting out, I wasn’t entirely ready when I opened the barbershop to the public. There were customers whom, to be fair, I should have paid rather than the other way around, considering how badly I cut their hair. Others have stuck with me to this day.

For several months I survived on earnings that, at the exchange rate, amounted to approximately 30 dollars a month—and usually less. There were entire days when not a single customer walked in, and that would drag down my weekly average.

Needless to say, it wasn’t enough for much of anything. Two kilograms of rice cost a little over a dollar, a liter of sunflower oil was nearly four dollars, and a bag of eight small bread rolls cost just under a dollar. And that’s without counting meat, eggs, root vegetables, vegetables, dairy products, and other foods. It was unsustainable. On top of that, I had to set aside some of the money for leisure—to go out with friends, have a coffee, and spend an afternoon at a bar. Still, with my girlfriend’s salary and mine, we managed to get through that initial stage.

“Haven’t you thought about working in the field you studied? Now that Varadero has closed,” I asked my client, although I knew it was a naïve question.

“No way, brother, I can’t. The rent alone would eat up everything I made.”

It’s a story many young people trying to make their way in life could tell. Independence, vocation, and financial survival are difficult things for university graduates to reconcile these days, especially for those who move from their towns or provinces to larger cities.

I wanted to leave part of each day for writing and journalism. By 4:00 in the afternoon, or even earlier, I would call it a day at the barbershop, after starting around mid-morning. When I got home, I did some simple bookkeeping and put aside everything related to barbering, except perhaps for the occasional tutorial YouTube recommended. Other than that, I read. I read a lot because, while laying the foundations of my new profession, I was also preparing an essay on a Cuban novel, which I worked on for several months.

Every day is the same. That’s how it has been for almost a year. By now, the barbershop has become monotonous: I’ve mastered the basic techniques and built up a clientele stable enough to allow me to put aside a little more money—not much. I have to admit it hasn’t been fulfilling, It isn’t what I’m passionate about or what gives me a sense of purpose. It isn’t, let’s say, the reason I wake up every day.

But I suppose no one really knows what they came into this world to do. In any case, barbering has helped me strengthen my social skills, which are quite limited in other settings. These have also been months in which I’ve accumulated many stories, found myself having to deal with people in uncomfortable situations, and met some truly endearing human beings.

As for my client, we have developed a camaraderie built on shared difficulties. When we finished, he looked at himself in the mirror, but I don’t know whether he saw himself or me. After all, we were the same thing.

Read more from Erik Hernandez diary here on Havana Times