It started when a friend of mine came to Yeshiva with a great haircut. I told her I needed one and asked her where she got it. A few days after, I was on the back of her scooter en route to Bethlehem.
As we drove up to the shop, so did the owner. He had just come back from a midday day meal and rest, something like a siesta. We walked inside the shop. There were six styling chairs, a washing station, and a desk for the register. On the walls hung faded pictures of women in dramatic lighting with choppy, bobbed, layered, highlighted hair, heavy blush, and thick eyeliner. It could have been the Supercuts in New Jersey, and I waited for Angela, the stylist, to come out and ask me about guys and how my summer was going.
Instead, Iyad came over and asked me in hesitating English if I wanted some water or Arabic coffee. I, with my unceasing love of free food and beverage, said "Yes!" to both. Iyad was born and grew up in Beit Sahour. He studied Italian in Perugia for three months and then continued on to Rome to study hairstyling and design.
An American, Jewish girl who studied opera in Italy and a Christian, Palestinian man who studied hair in the same place were speaking Italian together just outside of Bethlehem.
As he snipped my locks away, we spoke about Rome. I told him in Italian, "La sinagoga a Roma รจ bellissima." (The synagogue is Rome is beautiful). He asked me "what is a synagogue" I said, "Beit Knesset," thinking he would know the Hebrew word, but he still did not know. "A Jewish house of prayer," was the final attempt, and then he understood. It truly surprised me that he had never heard the word "synagogue" before, but it also made sense. The Palestinians who live in Bethlehem and the surrounding areas are completely disconnected from Israeli society. They have minimal, if any, contact with Jews and no education about Judaism. For valid security reasons, it is difficult for them to obtain travel permits as well. This is how someone can live twenty minutes from Jerusalem his entire life and still not know what a synagogue is.
Iyad did not know I was Jewish at first, but then I told him that I would be fasting in about two weeks, and he did not understand why. I told him I was Jewish and getting my haircut because the holidays were approaching. He started to tell us that before the first Intifada, Jews from a nearby settlement used to come to his shop and get their haircut. After it started, no Jews came there anymore.
There is so much fear of the other in this place, but I am grateful to have had the experience of putting a vibrant, human face on the word "Palestinian."
After we drank the best Turkish/Arabic coffee I've had since being here, he told me that he was very happy I came and that I needed to come visit again and take pictures. See you at the next haircut, Iyad!
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