The barber

Mr. Kamal, a successful lawyer, has his hair cut by me.  As he enters the shop I always get this feeling that I should be honored that he has chosen my humble shop.

 Mr. Kamal speaks shrewdly about everything and has decisive rules on the ways of life.  It seems to me that his lecture to me is of more importance to him than having his hair cut. I do not mind as salons have the prestigious reputation of places where one finds, and shows off, wisdom and perfect idealism.

When I ask him, for example about his  fiancé, he answers;  I see her once a week, as you well know, if one meets too often, then the nakedness of ones self is bared too quickly and the excitement and anticipation will diminish.

He seats himself and soberly crosses his legs.

I think to myself that he is actually depriving himself of her but say nothing as barbers always do not want to offend a well paying customer. In his voice I can hear the sound of self-admiration and hauteur as he shows his perfect idealism.

Kimo, a seventeen year old, sweet-faced youth with serene features enters the shop.

Mr. Kamal with a pompous _expression wisely remarks, "Life has taught me never to trust women or the sea."

Kimo sits down after respectfully greeting Mr. Kamal and then myself.

“How do you find Helmya?” inquires Mr. Kamal.

“Wonderful," replies Kimo with a shy smile.

“better every day. "Ha!" smirks Mr. Kamal with devious eyes.

It is clear that he is actually referring to something secretive and significant which is the exact purpose of his banter.

"Helmya is a lovely place"; I answer to keep the conversation flowing.

The lawyer looks at me and laughs loudly. A look of conspiracy in his eyes, a look of acknowledgement that he thinks we are playing this deceitful game of his together.

Kimo's bashfulness is evident, as he finally understands the implications of the unspoken words of the lawyer.

The lawyer grins at Kimo saying, "Things happen…you know…under the stairs…Ha! Ha! . You are her first love, she will never forget you."

Kimo tries to stutter a reply but Mr. Kamal interrupts, "Don't say anything…the crux of the matter is that you have the right, you are correct."

"What is correct?" Kimo whispers.

The lawyer glances at me with an _expression that says, "Now we have him trapped" and continues to speak to Kimo in an authoritative tone, "Life will teach you, you will know that I am right…Ha! Ha! Ya Kimo! But surely you don't want to repeat the misery...if her father knows …”

"what misery "I asked

In more serious tone he says you remember when the father's sister eloped with a young man as her family disapproved him for marriage twenty years ago'' said Mr. Kamal .

 "Then what happened ?'' I asked.

"The two lovers insisted on their choice, but the result was horrible,

it was easy that time for the father's authoritarian family to find the youth

a crime to be guilty with and to find the girl the suitable husband''.

Then he laughs loudly again so proud that he can use history to prove his ideas.

"The silly girl tried to kill herself but fortunately they saved her, and time marched on, yes she became silent and sullen since that time but life is going  on'' continued the lawyer. I don't replay as my thoughts dwell on that horrific incident.

I am almost finished cutting the lawyer's hair. I pity the youth, I can see his mind in a turmoil, disclosing his secret in a barber’s shop. The smirking laugh of the lawyer still lingering in the air. He is like a singer that has just come on stage forgetting his song.

Mr. Kamal gets up and hands me ten pounds.

"Keep the change," he remarks, "I don't want the change…it's your tip…money means nothing to me...it's only paper."

I silently wish that he would take his money and stop this propaganda.

After much deliberation, Kimo stutters as Mr Kamal is leaving, "Mr. Kamal, I want to say…people talk…but."

" Say nothing my boy, I know what you are thinking, the same old story, you love her, but I am afraid she will marry another but she will never forget her first time, her first kiss, her first touch," Mr. Kamal states.

The young boy swallows hard as he answers, "She is not like this."

An interval of silence passes between the two and then Mr. Kamal playfully punches Kimo on the shoulder as he smilingly leaves my shop.

Kimo's bewildered eyes follow Mr Kamal as he exits into the street, muttering to himself, "What are they saying about us?"

"People always find something to gossip about," I reply in a fatherly tone, my voice trailing off as I see the devastation on his young face.

He continues, "I am sick and tired of trying to convince others of the innocence of our relationship, they clearly want to believe otherwise. What would her father say?"

I answer thoughtfully, "He will destroy your future as you defame his family."

"It is not for me that I am afraid…but;" his voice trails off.

I continue to cut his hair deep in thought. Why do we poke our noses into affairs that do not concern us at all?. We are the judges and the jury condemning something that is so sweet and innocent changing it into something devious and sordid which it is not. Who gave us this right?

I finish cutting Kimo's hair and he leaves my shop.

My thoughts continue to wander. This sweet relationship between the engineer's daughter and the young mechanic will end because of the foolish custom of classes. Assumptions are always made. We dwell on the negatives, closing our minds to the reality of the heart. We dig graves for those that who have not yet become ill.

The young boy always made time to be by Rana's side, to walk her to the library, to the grocer, their sweet tethers of love that anchor them to the reality of this world will be severed by the malice of ,adults,.

Does innocent love deserve this kind of treatment? To be tarnished, soiled and cheapened?

While my hands automatically attend to the next customer, my mind continues to question.

I feel that I am suddenly drawn into this outside world, that my shop, my haven, my security, and my refuge.

An hour passed and Kimo returns, breathlessly telling me that Rana's sister has told him to hide.

His eyes are wide with apprehension like a sheep before slaughter.

I wonder why he is suddenly confiding in me?  We are not close friends so that he comes to me in troubles.

"Someone must have told her father about the two of you'', I quietly answer.

I have so met so many kinds and know these that take so much pleasure in relating bad news, it is as if their eyes come alive and glitter as they tell of others misfortunes.

 "It was none other than him" he replies.

Mr.  Kamal?  It can only be he, I thought, he herd the boy’s confession and immediately informed her father. Oh noble man did they respect you more then?  Did their eyes tell you what a good citizen you are?   Did they shake your hands…you honorable neighbor?

 All day long Kimo came and went from my shop, each time his features more tortured, his eyes frightened.

After his last visit three hours passed without his return and it was getting to the time that I have to know what happened. I decided to go out to know.

I am reluctant to step outside, reluctant to leave my sanctuary but go I must.

 The early evening streets are full of the hustle and bustle of those on their way home from work.

 I wait a bit longer, watching, waiting, for any news of the boy and the girl.

 I suddenly became a part of the story,

 As the time slowly ticks on, I feel more anxious. I have unwittingly been drawn into this event. As I step onto the sidewalk, the people, the cars, the noise all assault   my senses at once but I have to find out what has happened. I feel it tugging my very soul.  My heart will not rest if I don't get word of some kind.

"Have you seen Kimo?''  I ask one of the passers by.

He has this curious look in his eyes as I mention the name Kimo.

 "Don't you know?'' he asks proudly.

 "What?'' I ask, my heart filling with dread, heavy, hurting.

“Two policemen caught him. You know Sami?  The coffee worker?  He told Rana's father that he saw them together this morning..Kimo is locked up.   Ruined  ...''he smirks.

 I stand speechless, my mind seeing the picture of Sami, the overweight worker running as fast as his stumpy legs can carry him to relate the news to the father who lives close to where he works.

Before I go I looked up at their window then I see an  old woman's face It is the saddest and  sullenest  face I have ever  ever  seen.