Arab barbers


   Note the sign over the door in Arab script

Paris, August, 2003. I got my hair cut this morning by an Arab barber. In my experience the world's most meticulous barbers are Arab, and I ought to know. I'm a perpetual traveler. I've had my hair cut in thirty or forty different countries. And I can tell you, Arab barbers really care about your hair.

Unfortunately, a meticulous, concerned barber is my idea of a waste of time.

What I want from a barber is speed. The first question barbers ask, anywhere in the world:  "How do you want your hair cut?" If I can speak the local language, I answer, "Fast." My best-ever haircut, in Chiang Mai, Thailand, was seven minutes. At the time Vicki pronounced it a good haircut, which to me means seven minutes or less, but to her means she liked the way my hair looked.

Here in Paris virtually all barbers are Arab immigrants. Or to be more precise, virtually all barbers in the cheaper shops in my neighborhood are Arab immigrants. Over the years here I've had my hair cut by perhaps a dozen different barbers, all Arabs from northern Africa: Algeria, Tunisia, Morocco, or Egypt. And no matter how much I encourage them to do the job quickly, these barbers study every hair, ever wave and part, every shade of meaning in my hair. For all I know the Arab language has a dozen or two different words that mean "haircut." 

These barbers are friendly, cheerful guys, and I chat with them to pass the time, even though I can now predict their answers. This morning I started the conversation (in French) with, "Where are you from?" I already knew the answer, or rather the non-answer, beforehand, even though I was using this barber for the first time. 

"I'm Arab."

I looked up with a puzzled look on my face. He repeated, "I'm Arab," then, searching for a way to make himself clear, "You know, a Moslem."

Since he still hadn't answered my question, I repeated it. "Where are you from?"

Finally the notion of nationality seemed to pop into his head. "Uh, Africa. I mean, uh, oh, Tunisia."

In my experience Arabs identify with ethnicity and religion, rather than country, whether that country is Tunisia or Algeria, France or Germany. Arabs are presumably willing to work for, and maybe even die for, the Arab or Moslem cause, whatever it may be, but never for the Tunisian or French cause, whatever it may be. I'm sure this Arab identity has geopolitical implications, but then again, I'm writing about haircuts.

My barber told me he'd immigrated to France two years ago. I said, "Why did you come?" Again, I knew the answer.  

He said, "Travel. Adventure. Something different. I had my own barber shop in Tunisia [insert Algeria, Egypt, or Morocco, as the case may be], but I was young and restless."

Then he asked me, "Where are you from?"

Guy working around your face and neck, an arsenal of razors, scissors, and clippers at hand, not to mention unguents, you don't want to piss him off. I'm from the United States, but I lied and said, "Canada."

In the mirror I saw his eyes widen, impressed. "Canada." He repeated it to the other barber, and then to the other Arabs in the barber shop. That's another thing about Arab barber shops: they're typically filled with guys hanging around, not necessarily waiting for a haircut. 

Once everyone was duly impressed, my man, the Arab barber, a man who cares about haircuts, got right to the point:   "So in Canada, what's the price of a haircut?"

Paul

P.S. A few years ago Vicki and I were traveling in Morocco, and at the time I wrote: "Shopkeepers either sell eggs.. or cut hair, 24 hours a day. When your bus finally pulls into town at midnight, and you're tired and hungry, you'll find that restaurants, cafés, food stores, and sometimes even hotels are closed. But you can get a haircut."

Back to Paulvic Table of Contents.