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Nov. 9, 2012
Moving beyond our assumptions
The commitment of Nigerian Jews sheds light on Israel’s recent African refugee question.
JEFF L. LIEBERMAN
This summer’s demonstrations and subsequent violence against African refugees in the streets of Tel Aviv, and the deportations that are ongoing, may have unwillingly opened up a brand new conversation in the Jewish world. Now that the vitriol has been quieted, many of the refugees deported and the signs discarded, perhaps there has been a moment of reflection, even, perhaps, moments of regret. From media inquiries I received at the time from Israel regarding my film on the Igbo Jews of Nigeria, I wonder if this period of reflection has now opened up an opportunity to do something right.
I initially heard of the Israeli protests standing in my bathroom, brushing my teeth one New York morning, when the story came on the local public radio station. I knew that 5,000 miles away – in Yenagoa, Nigeria – Shmuel was probably hearing the same story, and wondered how it would affect him. Shmuel has long wanted to visit Israel, and was even invited to study at a progressive yeshivah in Jerusalem. It was a dream come true, but Israel denied his student visa. Yet, it hasn’t stopped him from pursuing his dream of becoming a rabbi, nor has it stopped him from leading his community in weekly Shabbat services and learning through the Internet, when time and money allow.
I met Shmuel and countless other Jews in Nigeria about six years ago when I toured the country with Rabbi Howard Gorin, a Conservative rabbi from the Washington, D.C., area. I had seen Gorin’s slideshow one evening in Los Angeles and expressed my interest in joining him on his next trip. After a year of inquiring e-mails to him, he finally said, “Get your shots and your visa … and, if you’re serious, we’re going in February.” I was soon standing in the Abuja airport with him, surrounded by the friendliest group of people I had ever encountered, greeting me with a thousand shaloms. By arriving and being present, I was accepted and welcomed.
Over the course of four weeks, I traveled to six different cities and villages, each with another welcoming group of people gathering together in a communal synagogue. I learned that they were all Igbo people (pronounced EE-bo) and had a long-standing oral history originating from ancient Hebrews. I heard familiar prayers accented with unique African melodies – the kind that make you want to stand up, join in and move. I saw well-worn photocopies of prayer books, and lovingly protected tallitot, kippot and Judaica – each with a unique story of how it was obtained. Along the way, I sat down and interviewed a variety of people on camera, in the hopes of making a documentary. Each person’s story told a different component of the courage, sacrifice and commitment involved in leading a Jewish life in Nigeria. Over the course of my journey, I saw that dedication over and over again – both impressing me, and also challenging my own more casual observance and practice.
As I sat in the shade talking with members of Congregation Tikvat Israel one Shabbat afternoon on the outskirts of Abuja, an announcement was made. At an impromptu ceremony, I was officially given the Igbo name Chukwu Emeka, meaning God has created a special person. Trust was instilled in me and I was to take their story and tell it wherever I could. It took six years to complete the documentary, mainly because I was denied grants and funding at every turn, so the onus fell mainly on my own limited filmmaking skills. Early this summer, I shared in the proud moment of debuting the film before a crowd of 200 people at the 92nd Street Y in New York City. Since then, word has spread and invitations are rolling in from Jewish film festivals, synagogues, African American groups and others interested in issues of identity, ancestry and origin. The story is being told and my promise to the Igbo fulfilled.
The timing of the première of my documentary and the anti-African violence in Israel was both coincidental and intriguing. As I spoke with a reporter from Israel’s Channel 10 that week, my sense was that there are those in Israel who realize that they didn’t stand up quickly enough, and perhaps there are regrets now that Israel has returned refugees to lands they so desperately fled. As people watch the trailer of my film on YouTube and put names to faces of African people, perhaps they will move beyond xenophobic attitudes and the idea that Israel is only for certain people. As they hear the joy from song and see the dedication in the face of so little, perhaps their hearts will soften not only to African Jews, but those Africans who seek relief from situations of famine and war. For Shmuel, I only hope that, one day, he will get to experience the joys of learning and visiting in the Holy Land – a right that should be afforded to people of all backgrounds.
Jeff L. Lieberman is a journalist, producer and documentary filmmaker living in New York. His film, Re-emerging: The Jews of Nigeria screens at the Vancouver Jewish Film Festival, at which he will be in attendance, on Nov. 14, 7 p.m., and Nov. 15, 1:45 p.m., at the Ridge Theatre; and Nov. 17 at Elgin Park School, hosted by White Rock/South Surrey Jewish Community Centre. He will also be moderating a Philosophers’ Café on Who is a Jew? on Nov. 21, 7 p.m., hosted by the Jewish Museum and Archives of British Columbia at the Peretz Centre. For the film trailer, visit re-emergingfilm.com.
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