Sami Barsoum -- "I have five nationalities"
By Tara Graham
(Photo Credit: Tara Graham)
JERUSALEM — "I have five different nationalities. It's not a joke, believe me," the old Arab tailor says with a chuckle and a look of amused bewilderment on his face. "And I am one person who has lived in only one city my entire life."
Sami Barsoum is standing behind the counter of his hole-in-the-wall shop in the Old City inspecting the neatly ironed pair of pants he just hemmed.
"First, I am Turkish because my father was born in Turkey, and we Christians, unlike the Jews, follow the birth line of the father," he explains. "Secondly, I have a British subject certificate from when Britain occupied Palestine. I have a Jordanian passport from when they invaded in 1948, along with Israeli travel documents that were given to me in 1967. But now, I'm governed by the Palestinian Authority, so that makes me Palestinian too."
Barsoum has lived in Jerusalem since birth. When his childhood home was occupied during the 1948 Arab-Israeli War, his parents contemplated relocating to nearby Jordan or Syria, but Barsoum, the eldest child in the family, objected.
"My grandfather was a refugee from Turkey," he says. "Why would we leave our country, our everything, only to become refugees in another country all over again?"
When the Six Day War erupted in 1967, Barsoum watched many of his friends and family pack up and leave.
"Every few years, there's a war here," he acknowledges with a sigh. "In my life, I have seen every problem here, and I've seen most everyone leave because of these problems. But me, I love Jerusalem. I am part of Jerusalem."
A dizzying maze of framed photos, pictures of Barsoum posing with high-ranking government officials and religious patriarchs from around the world, hangs on the walls behind the tailor. He quickly folds the pants in his hands and points to one of the photographs.
"That's a doctor from Sweden," he says. "I am designing trousers for him. And this is a priest from Australia. He bought two stoles from me, one of them in red and the other in green, and took them back to his church."
"That's myself, my wife and my sister in Atlantic City," he continues without missing a beat. "And that's the daughter of my niece. Look at how pretty she is! She was the queen of beauty in Long Island when she was 13."
Despite living in Jerusalem for nearly 70 years and single-handedly manning his tailor shop for over 50 years, Barsoum is a worldly man. He speaks eight languages ("but none of them perfect") and has traveled almost everywhere. Given his longstanding residence in the area and devotion to the Syriac Orthodox faith, Barsoum has emerged as a linchpin in Jerusalem's Christian community. His status has granted him the privilege to meet many influential visitors to the Holy Land over the years; hence, all the photos.
But Barsoum hasn't allowed his Arab identity and Christian faith to hurt his business in an Israeli Jewish state.
"Ninety-nine percent of my customers are now Jewish," Barsoum says. In 1948, Christians accounted for 30 to 35 percent of the population in Jerusalem, according to Barsoum. That population has dwindled to 1.5 percent.
"We are now nothing," he laments. "We have been here for centuries, but today, most of us feel like foreigners in our own city."
To keep business afloat, Barsoum treats everyone with respect.
"I stay neutral," he says. "They trust me, and I treat them well."
Barsoum's strategy has paid off, both professionally and socially. The Israeli Ministry of the Interior issued Barsoum a rare V.I.P. pass to use when crossing the checkpoint during his daily commute from his home in East Jerusalem to his shop in the Old City.
"Every day, I have to show my identity papers when crossing that checkpoint," he says. "I am lucky because of my special status, but the others are treated as though they are nobodies."
There was a time when Barsoum, his wife and five children tried to cross a checkpoint for a day in Jerusalem and the Israeli Defense Forces made the exception for Barsoum, but not his family. All of his children, like Barsoum, have Jordanian passports -- but his family doesn't share his V.I.P. status.
"We used to travel all over, but don't anymore," he says. "It's a big prison here."
But Barsoum, who spoils his customers with little chocolates and his big, infectious laugh, says he will never leave.
"It may be gloomy here," he acknowledges, "but every nation has its problems. And if we don't want to run away, then we just have to put up with those problems."