Arie Meets the Abayudaya

In the 1930s, a Jewish man named David Solomon was in Uganda working on various development projects for the British authorities. In 1937, he was sent to the town of Mbale, four hours outside of Kampala, to build a pumping station. One day while at work he saw a group of Ugandan guys wearing white robes and head coverings watching him carefully. He asked them what they wanted and they told him that they had heard he was a Jew, and they wanted to meet him because they were Jews. At first he thought it was some sort of joke, but then they showed him a Torah and described their religious practices. Solomon had encountered the Abayudaya, a community of Jews living in eastern Uganda.

I wanted to encounter them too (I have a history of encounters with unlikely Jews), so on Friday morning I took a boda to the Kampala bus station (pictured) to get a bus to Mbale. Mbale is a town in eastern Uganda and its history is tied in with that of the Abayudaya (which means, roughly, "People of Judah").

British and French missionaries arrived in Uganda in force in the 1880s. Semei Kakungulu, a politician and the hero of our story, converted to Christianity and led Christian forces to victory in the war against Arab ivory and slave traders from the north in the 1890s. Having risen to prominence, he married two of the king's daughters (there was an intervening divorce) and led the Buganda kingdom to a number of military victories, subduing various other tribes. In 1894, when Uganda was declared a British protectorate, England gave Kakungulu substantial control over the Ugandan military and he brought much of the country under their control. In gratitude, they appointed him governor of the eastern province.

I arrived at the bus station at 10am. Various people asked me where I was going and I said Mbale and they pointed me towards a corner, where a tiny ragged-looking bus was loading. The conductor asked for 20,000 shillings ($10), and I decided to wait for the next one. Sure enough, a shiny new blue bus pulled in and started to load for Mbale (15,000). I asked when it was leaving and they assured me that it was leaving right now. Those familiar with Africa know that this was a lie. I knew too, but I got on. We sat for an hour while the bus loaded. The vendors just say what they're selling, they don't hiss (the Rwandan way), although they're allowed to walk onto the bus to wave water bottles and portable radios at you. They're not very aggressive. (I forgot a toothbrush and toothpaste, but was able to buy a set from a vendor.) The ride itself was three and a half hours because there wasn't much traffic. We stopped a few times for food, to let people off, and once for a bathroom break (a large row of bushes). Pictured is some chicken that a roadside vendor was selling.

We pulled into Mbale at about 2:30. It's a really cute little town -- two main streets that intersect at a small clocktower, some side streets. Mbale was founded by Kakungulu. It lies at the base of Mount Elgon, a large ridge that towers over the town -- a striking sight. Mbale grew quickly and is now the third-largest city in Uganda (population: 75,000). I went straight to a hotel, the Mt. Elgon View Hotel (there's no view but the rooms are nice), checked in, and had some food.

Kakungulu was not satisfied with the post of Governor of the eastern province. Other parts of the country were governed by kings, and he wanted to be made King of the east. The British balked, but he declared himself King anyway. There was some conflict, and finally he gave up politics in disgust and returned to Mbale to devote himself to religion.

Lunch for me was Indian food at Nurali Café -- decent food. Not bad. The staff of my hotel were familiar with the Abayudaya and got me a taxi. It was about a half-hour drive, including a search for gas (most places were out).

When Kakungulu returned to Mbale angry with the British, he fell into the cult followers of a guy named Malaki, who preached biblical literalism and forbade his followers to eat pork, allowed polygamy (reasoning that Abraham did so), and forbade all medicine and medical practice. The Malakites' refusal to allow vaccinations led to Malaki's exile after a plague swept the region.

Kakungulu remained with the Malakites for a while, but he spent long periods meditating on the Old Testament. In 1919 he announced that all the commandments of Moses were binding and circumcised his sons. The Malakites responded that only Jews followed all the commandments of Moses, and Kakungulu responded, "Then we will be Jewish!"

The paving stopped about a third of the way to the Abayudaya and the road wasn't great, but it wasn't terrible. I wasn't sure we were going in the right way until I saw a sign for Semei Kakungulu High School with a Jewish star on it. Finally we drove up to Nabugoye Hill, which houses the largest of the six synagogues that exist today.

Kakungulu and his followers adhered to the Torah to the best of its abilities -- for instance, they slaughtered meat in a kosher way and followed Succot and Passover. But with no guidance except the Torah, the Abayudaya had practices that didn't exactly mesh with contemporary Judaism. They sacrificed animals, baptized children, allowed polygamy, and forbade any use of medicine. Anyone caught violating the rules of Shabbat was severely punished. Their place of worship was called the Jewish Church. In 1926 he met two Jews in Kampala who came to Mbale and lived with the community for six months teaching them about modern Judaism. When he died, in 1928, there were more than two thousand Abayudaya. (He died of either malaria or tetanus after refusing medical treatment.) David Solomon came in ten years later. The Abayudaya went through difficult years following the death of Kakungulu, culminating in persecution under Idi Amin. Today they number about one thousand.

At the top of Nabugoye Hill were a number of small buildings. This is the first one I noticed -- the Shalom Internet Café. I didn't see anything I immediately identified as a synagogue, though I did notice the Semei Kakungulu High School with a Jewish star painted on it. There were a number of children playing in the area and most of them were wearing yarmulkes. Many waved and some shouted "Shabbat shalom!"

The taxi drove on a short winding path to a brand new building overlooking the valley. I paid the driver and walked in, noting the Mezuzah on the wall, and was greeted by a friendly Ugandan woman named Rachel who invited me to sit down and have a drink. I had reached the Abayudaya guest house, a building built for the express purpose of housing western Jews who come to visit. There I met a number of other members of the community and was continuously surprised by the biblical names -- Isaac, Samson, Moses, Israel, etc.

It was almost Shabbat, so the rabbi was off preparing for services, but I was told that I was welcome to photograph the synagogue before Shabbat began. I didn't recognize the synagogue at first -- from the back it looks like an ordinary building, but when I went to the front I knew I was in the right place. Again, there were a lot of kids playing outside the synagogue and they were very excited to see me. I took photos of one kid and showed him the photo on the camera and he got very excited and got all the others to run over, so I spent a while doing that. I guess there aren't a lot of mirrors here, and they don't get to see themselves much.

The inside was what you might expect. There was a small podium at the front, assorted chairs, and a few fluorescent lights. At the back was an ark for the Torahs. The morning of the day I arrived, a rabbi from Arizona had delivered another Torah -- the synagogue's fifth. The intention is to spread them to the other synagogues in the region.

They also have several shelves of prayer books that I assume were donated used by various synagogues. In the corner was a menorah balanced on a battery. Many of the windows were broken, which was just as well because there was no air conditioning.

As I waited and played with the kids, people started to assemble for Shabbat. I had expected to be the only white person there, but that was inaccurate. There were more mzungu than Ugandans. Several of the groups were from synagogues in the United States, some traveling with their rabbis. There were also a few Israelis who were camping nearby and a couple of other travelers like me who had just heard about the community and decided to stop by.

Just before sunset, the Rabbi showed up. Rabbi Gershom Sizomu, son and grandson of past community leaders, went to rabbinical school in Los Angeles and Israel, returned to his community, and finished the process of modernizing the customs and observations. He was trained in the conservative tradition.

The service itself was fairly standard Shabbat fare and I recognized some of the melodies. It was tri-lingual -- English, Luganda, and Hebrew. The songs lasted much longer than they would in the United States, I think that's a Ugandan thing. The rabbi's sermon was about the importance of doing things that are extraordinary -- he emphasized how extraordinary it was for the white people here to have come all the way from various places.

The Rabbi believes that the Abayudaya would benefit most from integration with the mainstream Jewish community. Partially for this reason, he and the Abayudaya generally are extremely welcoming toward visitors.

The Abayudaya are not recognized as Jews by most orthodox sects. However, the people of one of the villages, Putti, are in the process of formal orthodox conversion to Judaism. They intend to make aliyah (move to Israel).

After services, Rabbi Gershom invited all the white people in attendance to stay until Sunday, when there were three weddings scheduled and also the annual music festival. I had planned on going back on Saturday morning, but how could I miss all that? I went back to Mbale, had some food, and went back to my hotel. My room had a balcony, so I took a couple of night photographs of the town.

The next morning I went into town, got some money out of the bank (long ATM line) and went to the market. I hadn't brought enough clothing for three days, but shirts were a dollar each and socks fifty cents, so that wasn't a problem. Newly outfitted, I had lunch at the Landmark Inn and went back to the Abayudaya community. Incidentally, Mbale has few internet cafés, but it does have an internet phone booth -- the first I've seen in Uganda. Five cents/minute for calls to the United States.

Saturday afternoon with the Abayudaya was very interesting. Much of the community gathered in a circle outside the synagogue and the Rabbi led a discussion about the week's Torah portion. The portion concerned the elevation of Joseph from slave in Egypt to high official, and the Rabbi questioned the community as to whether Joseph could be considered a good person given that ten years passed and he did not let his parents know he was alive. After a very sophisticated discussion (much of which was in Luganda and had to be translated), one of the visiting rabbis suggested that Joseph understood that if he sent word to his parents of his elevation, his brothers (having tried to kill him) would flee and there would be no Jewish people.

On a boda ride back from the community into Mbale, we suddenly came upon an enormous group of Ugandans in some sort of parade. The kids were very excited, waving their arms and screaming. We pulled over to the side of the road as they passed, and all that could reach me gave me high fives. I later found out that this was part of a circumcision ritual (tribal, not Jewish). Circumcision is mandatory in many tribes, and from the description I've heard it's a rather brutal process. In this region it's a rite of passage into adulthood and only performed once every two years. Some people feel so strongly about it that they will circumcise corpses rather than allow a body to be buried uncircumcised.

The real fun was Sunday. The first of the three weddings was scheduled for 9am, so I arrived at 8:30. The people there were already hard at work cooking -- here's some matoke getting steamed. It won't surprise anyone familiar with this country to hear that the first wedding started at 12:15pm -- apparently the bride couldn't get her make-up right. At the first wedding the groom was one of the rabbis from another community -- I'm told he was seventy years old. The bride was in her early twenties. The other two couples were much closer in age. The ceremonies were fairly standard -- a Ketubah ("where did you get the Ketubah?" "PDF."), a Chuppah, the groom smashed a glass under his foot, we sang "Simcha Tov, Mazel Tov". The women did a strange sort of ululating scream. The weddings were fairly short and were done by 3pm, including lunch. I left as they were setting up for the music festival. One odd thing was that the brides looked very unhappy -- I'm told that it's customary in this region for the woman not to smile, or else people think that she is a prostitute. The guests, though, were extremely excited -- lots of shouting, dancing, screaming, etc.

To make sure I got back on time, I had stopped in at the Elgon Flyer bus office on Saturday -- I heard that they were clean, uncrowded, and driven safely. They assured me that the bus left at 5pm on Sundays, and that getting there at 4:40pm would be fine. I showed up at the bus park at 4pm to find that the bus had already left. A man explained that there was a big crowd trying to get back to Kampala -- sure enough, a big crowd was standing there. He told me that I should get on the next bus that came in. The next bus came in and the crowd mobbed the door. The driver let five or six people on and then it left. Not being willing to elbow people in the face meant that I wasn't getting on.

Fortunately for me, a man came up to me and we got to talking. When the next bus came in, he said "Mzungu, I will get you on the bus." As they were loading, he pulled over someone who must have been an official and they talked briefly. The official said "Mzungu, you have 15,000 shillings?" I held up a bill and he waved me onto the bus -- Gateway Bus Company.

The bus ride was fine. It was a little crowded, but the driver drove safely. There were a lot of chickens on the bus. At my feet were two with their feet tied together so they couldn't move. Apparently eastern Uganda is known for its chickens, so lots of people bring a couple home after a visit. A few minutes into the ride, I felt something nudging my leg. It turned out that a third chicken had gotten lonely and wanted to come play with these two. I lifted my foot and she walked over.

The two who were tied up weren't any fun, I guess, so then she came over to me and started nuzzling my leg. Then she discovered my bag, and apparently the handle is the perfect size for a chicken head rest. She went most of the ride snuggled against my leg with her head happily tugged into the handle. Most of the chickens were pretty quiet except when it was time to get off the bus -- you carry a chicken by its feet, and they squawk and flap a lot.

And that was my visit to the Abayudaya. We got back around 9pm, I had a quick dinner and went to bed. The end.

Incidentally, many Abayudaya, along with a local Muslim community and a local Christian community, grow coffee that's sold by a company called Mirembe Kawomera ("Delicious Peace").

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