A teen’s Sabbath prayers
Embet Wolde’s dream is twofold. The first part is to live in Israel. The second is to sprint in the Olympics, under the Israeli flag.
It is Saturday morning at Gondar’s humble synagogue and over 300 people are chanting the Hebrew song, ‘Am Yisael Hai’ [The people of Israel live] as 14-year-old Embet speaks in fluent Hebrew about the virtue of patience. “If you don’t have patience, you can’t live. If you are not patient, you will be greedy. Without patience, you will want too much,” the wide-eyed skinny girl says, a Star of David necklace choking her match-stick neck.
Patience is the first of three guiding principles Embet’s parents have instilled in her. The second is respect for others and the third, a commitment to Judaism.
A rather handy trio of principles for a family facing ongoing hardship — the more recent of which came in late 2010, when their names were excluded from the Israeli Interior Ministry’s last official list of Ethiopians authorised to enter Israel under the Law of Entry. Despite this, her family continues to attend synagogue. They believe that God will deliver them to Israel. They keep the Sabbath. After synagogue on Friday nights, the family returns home for “Kabbalat Shabbat”, Embet says, to eat traditional bread —“Challah” — and instead of wine, they drink juice.
* * *
Embet seems brighter than most of her friends, evidenced by her advanced Hebrew. And, she appears more philosophical than her peers — particularly her seniors. “It is important to dream because it means a person will have purpose. It means they can do lots of things. If they have a dream, they will arrive at their purpose.”
I strain to hear Embet over the yelping Rabbi delivering a sermon. I catch a glimpse of him and notice that he is dressed strikingly like the Conservative rabbis we find in Australia and even adheres to the fluctuating intonation common to rabbinic storytelling. He walks on the spot, lifting his feet and pressing them down slowly, as if he were on the moon. I assume he is re-telling the story of the congregation’s ancestors, who braved the desert of Sudan to arrive at the Promised Land during Operation Moses in 1984. How strange the parallels to emerge in the history of the Jews.
“Israel is the land of our ancestors,” Embet says, seemingly oblivious to the fly nested in the corner of her mouth. “It is holy. I think about it a lot ... I also have a grandmother in Israel and I miss her. I haven’t seen her in ten years but she has come to Gondar recently.” The fly moves on.
Embet points admiringly at an Israeli volunteer from Project TEN, a Jewish Agency program providing non-sectarian services to Ethiopians in need. As the volunteer threads her way through rows of females shrouded in white — special garb saved for the Sabbath, High Holy Days and the arrival at the Holy Land — Embet tells me that the young woman is her Hebrew teacher. Embet shakes her head when I ask if she too will teach others Hebrew.
But under orders from the Israeli Government to wind down its services, the Jewish Agency for Israel (JAFI) is in the process of shutting down the Falash Mura community's most vital Jewish infrastructure; namely, the Jewish school and the synagogue. Much of the Gondar's community believe these closures will mark the end of local Jewish and community life. Embet is right to think that she won't teach Hebrew. To echo the fears of Embet's elders, who will attend such a class years to come?
//
Words: Timna Jacks
