Salon brokers: The new trade in town

May 27, 2010

PUSHED out of the salon business by their aggressive male counterparts, women are turning to the street for a new trade — hair and salon brokerage

PUSHED out of the salon business by their aggressive male counterparts, women are turning to the street for a new trade — hair and salon brokerage, writes Jimmy Muwanika

DRESSED in a blue blouse and a lesu (wrapper), Justine Bangi stands at Gaza Land building in the city centre. Her task is to lure and convince ladies passing by to have their hair done.

Bangi is a hair and salon broker. This is how she has been earning a living for the last two years.

“When I finished O’level, I thought of what I could do during my vacation and I did not find anything. This was all I could find,” she says.

The 22-year-old wakes up at 5:00am and leaves her home in Kibuli, a Kampala suburb, to get to her ‘work station’ before 7:00am. Her typical working day is 14 hours.

On a good day, she makes sh80,000; on a bad one sh50,000. To make this money, she says, the trick lies in the hands of one’s bargaining power.

“After successfully convincing a customer, the next step is bargaining before we head for the salon. From the agreed price, my boss, the owner of the salon, takes 70%. Our pricing depends on the hairstyle the customer wants.

Once she gets to her work station, Bangi only leaves at lunch time when all the other brokers also break off.

“You have to rise up so early and make sure you are in your area of operation in time. This is to make sure that you get a strategic point that is always jammed with ladies passing by.

Should you get there late, you can count that day as a loss,” she explains. Bangi also reveals that when one has to go to relieve themselves, they have to alert a friend who will make sure her spot is not taken over by someone else.

“Working as a hair broker is hectic, challenging and competitive. You need a lot of patience otherwise you are bound to fail. In the beginning, I moved from one salon to another looking for a permanent job, until I decided to adjust to the existing conditions,” she says.
She still vividly remembers the day she fought with a colleague over a customer.

As it approaches lunch time, Bangi tells me she can no longer talk to me. She wants to go for an early lunch.
Kate Ssemudu is also a broker. She says they become very busy shortly after lunch.

“After 2:00pm, we have serious work and it’s during this period that we realise that we actually work,” Ssemudu says.
From the two years that Bangi has been on the streets, she says she has managed to pay rent, buy food and clothes for herself.

She even has plans to open up her own salon in future and employ more brokers and capitalise on profits.

“People have made money and become rich from this business. When I get enough money, I believe I will have a salon of my own.”

It is highly suspect that many of these ladies turn to commercial sex after their day’s work. Bangi confirms that this is true, but not all of them do it.

“Some girls do not have where to stay, others say it is another way to increase on their welfare.”

Women’s reactions
Sylvia says the girls are so irritating. “They should not be there in the first place because they look idle and disorderly. Just imagine the commotion they cause in the places where they operate.

They must be arrested. I mean we ladies know where salons are located and in most cases have particular people who work on us.”

Ann Mugisa says these girls should not be on the street. The work done in their salons should speak for itself.
“I don’t need to be dragged into a salon in the name of working on my hair.

What if she plaits kiwani? How do I know their salons are the best? My friend, in case of any problem with my, hair where do I find her?” Mugisa contemplates.

Sarah Nabagereka says one of these hair brokers worked on her some time last year, but what happens inside the salon is nothing but rumours and gossip — even by mature women.

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