Daily Trust
In the hot Abuja sun, Abdulmalik Abdullahi, a middle-aged man wanders the streets with the signature leather bag of a wanzami slung over his shoulder looking for a client to attend to. For centuries, people like him, armed with a bag like his have wandered the streets of Northern Nigeria, shaving the heads of willing clients and performing other traditional-medical practices like circumcision, removal of tonsils and removing blood lumps from their clients. They are not only local barbers, they are also traditional medicine men. But men like him are increasingly becoming rare.
After what initially seemed like a fruitless search for a wanzami, I randomly stumbled on Abdulmalik and recognized his profession from his bag, called a zabira. After a quick exchange of pleasantries and an introduction, I engaged him in a chat during which he revealed how the wanzami business isn’t quite what it used to be.
“Compared to the earlier years when I started this business, I can honestly say that we’re not enjoying as much patronage as we used to. People now believe that our methods are unsafe and unclean, so they opt for barbing salons for haircuts and hospitals for circumcision. But little do they know that while learning the process of becoming the wanzami from our fathers, we were taught how to sanitize and observe cleaning techniques after we finish attending to each customer. We clean all our tools with spirit before burning it. My father was a wanzam and out of his three children, I’m the only one who followed in his footsteps.
“As a child, it always fascinated me and I observed all that he [my father] did carefully. He would take me along when he had appointments with his clients. But that still wasn’t enough. Even after he died, I still had more mastering to do but as of now, it’s safe to say that I have fully learnt and mastered the art of it.”
Abdulmalik, 41, opened his bag to showcase a number of tools including his aska (razor), kaho (a horn used for drawing blood), bunches of local medicines, a small aluminum cup, a stone, soap, spirit, a lighter and many more peculiar items.
The wanzami practice is usually inherited, passed on from father to son, from generation to generation but the changing times have caught up with this practice.
“The youth now are no longer interested in inheriting the trade, so our numbers are declining. Our fathers, who we inherited the practice from have died off or are too old to continue. And a lot of the sons, and our own sons as well have no desire to take on the trade. But despite that, there are more young people doing it now, but they are usually led by a veteran wanzami.”
He shared that he has been in the business for 15 years, which isn’t all that long compared to those who have practiced it for about 70 years, and continue to do so in their old age. Abdulmalik hopes to be one of these people.
“I won’t leave this profession for anything. It’s what I feel most at home doing and I believe there’s nothing else I could do better.”
Abdulmalik is one man practicing an ancient profession in a new city. He left his native Katsina for Abuja eight years ago, drawn by the lure of a larger population in the capital and the obvious higher standard of living. He believed he would find more customers here.
“People of different caliber call us into their homes for our services. From giving haircuts for adults, newborns, both male and female and for circumcision,” he said.
At first the move seemed to work well, but over time it turned out that wasn’t really the case.
“Perhaps if more non-Hausa people patronize our services, this won’t be the case,” he said.
His income has dwindled. On average, each customer pays N100 to N150 for a clean shave.
“On a particularly good day, I can make about N2,500 to N3,000. Sometimes, nothing at all. It’s quite a shaky business now, and considering what goes into learning the art and the effort put into it, it’s quite disheartening and demoralizing,” he said.
Abdulmalik went ahead what it takes to learn the to explain techniques