Diplomatic Terms

By SHWE YOE

The barber is sitting patiently, waiting for customers on a rainy day. The little bells on the door chimed as U Ba walks in. He is tall and dignified with a snobbish air and a carefully cultivated moustache.

The barber shudders when he sees him. U Ba is such an arrogant bore. The barber has long noticed that U Ba talks down to anyone below him on the social ladder, but kowtows pathetically in front of higher officials.

He was formerly a diplomat in an Eastern European country and liked to think of himself as worldly and wise.

Resigned to having to spend 30 long minutes with U Ba, the barber picked up his scissors and ushered him into a chair without a word. He tied a bib tightly around the old diplomat’s neck and immediately began cutting his hair without a word.

U Ba stared back at him in the mirror with contempt in his eyes.

Then he smiled devilishly.

“I suppose you read my article in New Light of Myanmar last week?” U Ba asked.

“Yes!” the barber replied. “An excellent piece.”

His voice was raised high in a sarcastic feign of interest.
The ex-diplomat ignored the tone of voice and thundered out the headline from his column: “The Myth of Suu Kyi!”

No reply from the barber as he snip-snipped at the older man’s head.

U Ba carried on regardless: “I’m afraid I have resigned from my job as a regular columnist at New Light,” he said. “I’m getting on, you know. I guess I’ll just be a consultant from now on,” he rattled on.

“A highly paid consultant, of course,” he added with a smirk.

“So, we will no longer have the pleasure of reading your groveling government rhetoric in the newspaper,” the barber responded. “Oh dear! That IS a shock.”

U Ba ignored him with a sniff. “Yes, consultant I am now. Consultant. I offer advice on business for foreign investors, sign MoUs for our partners in the NGOs, that kind of thing,” he snorted.

“Indeed!” exclaimed the barber. “MoUs for the NGOs of the SPDC? Why, you must be a VIP,” teased the barber.

U Ba didn’t pick up on the joke. He thought the barber had realized at last what a big shot he was.

“I’m getting paid in US dollars, of course,” he continued. “Helping to revive the Myanmar economy. At least, I’m doing my best,” he said with a humble shrug of the shoulders.

“You truly are the backbone of this country,” chuckled the barber. “What would we Burmese do without you?” he exclaimed as he whipped the bib from U Ba’s neck.

U Ba stared at the barber for a moment, not knowing if he were serious.

“Yes, quite,” he said.

That night at home the old diplomat’s wife noticed the bald line running through her husband’s head. It was as if the barber had shaved a road from the back of his neck to his crown. His wife couldn’t resist a laugh, but U Ba did not see the funny side at all.

The next morning he returned to the barber shop to give the barber a piece of his mind.

When he got there the shop was closed. In the window was a sign: “Why is it the spineless ones who think they are the backbone of our country???”