Yes cheap can be expensive, but not always

Cheap is not always expensive – often it is just that, cheap. That phrase is a marketing gimmick by consumerism when it is up to no good.  Besides, cheap and expensive are all relative.

Case in point. Many years ago when I was organising my wedding, the decoration man discouraged me from getting flowers from the north side of Moi Avenue. “If you insist, I will source from uptown.” He answered me when I suggested someone who had been recommended by a friend. “But those flowers will cost you triple the amount, and they will be no different from the ones I get downtown.”

I was torn. Stuff in downtown Nairobi is often believed to be of bad quality. Even fake. There is some truth because if you are going to end up with fake products, they will most likely be from downtown. But not always. It is ‘easy’ to sell a fake piece of electronics, but you can hardly fake flowers. You just get charged more in uptown because rents are higher, and some people feel better when they pay more for products. We were on a tight wedding budget, seeing as we were financing it ourselves. It did not take long to convince me and luckily there were no regrets.

In the same wedding though, cheap was demonstrated as expensive. I had settled on a popular cake-maker who was going to cost me an arm and a leg, until someone close to me suggested a cake-maker they knew, and with confidence provided by the decorations man, I commissioned the cake job to the cheaper person. It was a beautiful cake, but underneath the decoration was a disaster of taste. It was like eating a soggy, cold ugali, and that is not an exaggeration. I have never recovered.

Recently, the phrase ‘cheap is expensive’ was put to the test again. See, my regular barber closed shop which was annoying when you are a creature of habit. As a result, I went for months with a neglected Mohawk. He knew what I liked and our conversations were never about the hair – there was no need for that. This barber, a young man, would start by sitting me down on his adjustable leather seat, put on some reggae tunes, cover me with a couple of layers of protective shawls, massage my head, and then take nearly an hour working on me. Often, I wondered what it was he was doing because refreshing a Mohawk should not take more than ten minutes.

He would then dip a white towel in hot, sanitised water and press the shaved areas ever so gently. I loved that one hour there.

I finally get fed up of the hair growth and walked into the nearest barber shop that could not have been more different from the usual one if it tried. It felt like walking into a 1980s barber shop. When did you last see a fly whisk being used during a haircut? He sat me on an uncomfortable wooden chair, covered me with a questionable looking shawl, shaved the sides as I held my breath because, for some reason, I kept fearing that he would cut the locks in the middle. He did not look the sort to accept my type of hairstyle.

He did a great job, and it took him all ten minutes. He had no white towel or sanitiser spray, just smeared spirit on his palms and spread it on the shaved bits. He tapped my shoulders to indicate he was done, then charged me half of what I was used to paying. It was cheap, but looking at my head, you wouldn’t know that the barber cannot spell head massage. I am happy to refer to him as my new barber.

There are products that are not just products, but safety itself. I can understand why someone who can afford a German car would choose it over a Japanese car.

It does not necessarily make the Japanese one unsafe, it just means you are safer in the former. In the end, I think it is all about what you are willing to lose if the cheap product goes wrong – like I should never have gone for the cheap cake.

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