Oktoberfest? In Palestine? In September?

These three ideas do not nest easily. Palestine is a predominantly Muslim region, and the Prophet forbade the use of alcohol to his followers. Strong Arabic coffee and tea are the more usual drinks.

That fact makes the idea of an Oktoberfest in Palestine even more unlikely.

And yet, long odds sometimes play out, and the dark horse pulls ahead. Taybeh Brewery, the region’s leading beer manufacturer, is located in Taybeh, a small town about twenty taxi minutes northeast of Ramallah.

The brewery traces its origin to a college student’s dorm room. I doubt if this is as unusual as it sounds. While studying in Boston, Nadhim Koury began experimenting with homebrew kits. His hobby blossomed into a passion. In 1994 he returned to Palestine to found his brewery.

Success quickly followed. In 1997, Koury opened a franchise in Germany, a step that skirted tough export laws and opened new markets across Europe. Today Taybeh beer is sold in countries as distant as Japan. The dorm room brewer has established an international brand.

Unlike most Palestinian towns, Taybeh is predominantly Christian. The religious difference created an opportunity. Christianity does not have an injunction against the consumption of alcohol, so Taybeh was a natural place to establish a brewery.

The beer production plant is one clue, but the town doesn't attempt to hide its Christian orientation: a golden statue of Jesus stands in the center of the first roundabout our taxi encounters. A white marble statue of the Virgin Mary graces the roundabout at the opposite end of town.

The brewery celebrated its first Oktoberfest in 2005. That small party has grown into an important event on the annual social scene, with thousands of tourists, expatriates, and locals visiting over the two day run.

After parking the taxi, we followed the crowds through the gate. Admission was 50 shekels (approximately $16 USD) per person. The ticket included a free glass of Taybeh beer or wine. I immediately swapped my ticket for a lovely Cabernet, a delicious, mouth-friendly draught, a sweet kiss after several days of temperance.

The festival sprawled along one side of the brewery. A line of booths which featured games and food flanked the southern edge of the lot. Young men tried to outdo each other on the chin-up bar.

Very young men rolled across the space between two skateboard ramps.

Guests stood in animated clusters, laughing, dancing, and sipping from plastic cups of Taybeh beer. The bartenders made sure that the beer flowed.

I was surprised by the number of children present. The legal drinking age appears to be eighteen in Palestine, but the brewery made certain that there was age appropriate entertainment for the younger guests.

And age appropriate snacks.

If that wasn’t enough, among the stands selling shawarma, chicken sandwiches, and pizza by the slice, I spotted something I would have thought impossible: a vendor offering pork sausage sandwiches, fifteen shekels apiece.

Pork is one of the few things that Jews and Muslims agree about. Christians, however, do not share the ecumenical aversion to swine, and I quickly bellied up to the booth for a taste. The vendors told me that they were from Bethlehem, another city with a Christian majority.

The sandwich—two slender pork sausages, surrounded with fresh lettuce and sweet tomatoes, was fantastic. I have moved Bethlehem to the top of my calendar, just to secure another sandwich.

At 6:00, the musical acts took the stage and the dancing began.

We only stayed for two sets performed by Palestinian musicians, but I definitely could have listened to more from the Upbeat Trio, a group that consisted of violin, guitar, and drum kit. The program listed the musical genre as “gypsy pop.” They were fantastic.

As the sun slipped beneath the western hills, and a cool breeze whispered through the crowded venue, I felt a deep admiration for the people around me. Perhaps it was the wine whispering, but as dread-locked men linked arms and danced, as children passed fearlessly through a crowd of strangers, as people chatted and listened to the intertwining chords of guitar and violin, I wished I had a chance to meet and become friends with everyone at the party.

I marvel at the great risk Nadhim Koury took in establishing this business. He could have built a brewery anywhere in the world, but to plant his operation here, in the difficult moral and business climate of Palestine, is truly extraordinary. The brewery and the celebration are a fitting testament to his vision for a sensational venture.

Oktoberfest in Palestine? You bet.

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