Uganda 2: October 8, 2003

Last weekend was Rosh Hashannah, the Jewish New Year. When we bid on Kampala, Liz and I wondered what we would be able to do for the High Holidays as we did not expect to find a thriving Jewish community in Uganda. We certainly did not expect to celebrate the holiday in a synagogue with nearly 100 Ugandan Jews.

Unlike Ethiopian Jews, the Jews of Uganda, known in a local language as Abbayudayah, do not trace their lineage back to biblical times. Their history, instead, begins in 1919 when a powerful Bagandan warrior, Semei Kakungulu, breaking with Christianity spread by British missionaries circumcised his sons and declared his community Jewish. The community has maintained itself since, though its numbers fell from about 3,000 members to as low as 300 during the persecutions of the Amin years, when then President for Life Idi Amin Dada outlawed the practice of Judaism (not that the small Jewish community was the main target of Amin's violence, an estimated 300,000 Ugandans died unnaturally during his 8 year reign). The community, long isolated from other Jewish communities, has rebounded to number approximately 600, spread out in several villages near the city of Mbale close to the border with Kenya. Jewish organizations from the U.S. and Israel have begun to work with the Abbayudayah as they start to bond with the outside world. 5 synagogues service the community, whose members live door to door with their Christian and Muslim neighbors. In fact, there is little to outwardly distinguish Ugandan Jews from other members of their community as the Abbayudayah also earn their livelihood from small farms and tending a few cattle (no cobblers or peddlers as in the old Eastern European shtetls).

My boss, the U.S. Ambassador to Uganda, also is Jewish and when Liz and I asked if he knew of a place in town that would hold Rosh Hashannah services he noted that he was planning to celebrate with the Abbayuddayah and invited us to join him. Maxine, an American working for an NGO, joined our party, along with the Ambassador's driver and bodyguard.

The trip to Mbale takes about 3 hours and we drove over generally good roads, though we periodically would get stuck behind a truck on a hill, slowing us down somewhat. Mbale is at the base of Mount Elgon, a giant multi-peaked mountain similar to Kilimanjaro or Mt. Kenya. On a map, you can see its western flank rising in Uganda and its eastern slopes trail off in Kenya. As we left Kampala, we saw numerous brick kilns dotting the countryside where the locals manufactured the bricks with which they build their homes. As few rural residents have access to running water, we saw dozens of women and girls walking on the roadside with plastic jerrycans of water perched on their heads as they returned from the community wells. At periodic bus stops, crowds of locals jammed around a parked bus offering sticks of grilled chicken or beef, bananas and drinks.

When we passed the town of Jinja we crossed the Nile River near its source in Lake Victoria. It begins it journey to the Mediterranean as a decent sized river that flows over numerous cataracts and rapids, making it a popular place for white water rafting. Soon we saw sugar-cane and tea plantations spread out on either side of the road. Eventually, the lower slopes of Mt. Elgon appeared in front of the van and we entered Mbale.

The synagogue we attended is located about 5 kilometers outside of Mbale off a semi-paved road and about 1 kilometer after the utility poles end. This synagogue hosts the largest congregation as it is the location of the local school. The synagogue itself sits atop a rise and commands an expansive view of the surrounding countryside. The building has a firm, concrete floor, brick and plaster walls and a corrugated tin roof seated on solidly built wooden support beams. Congregants sit at wooden pews that double as school desks. A variety of siddurim (prayer books), encyclopedias, and magazines fill up book shelves along the walls. The bimah is located in the center of the structure, with the ark containing the Torah in back.

We arrived Friday evening just before sundown, in time for a few photos before the Sabbath began (the community is quite observant, meaning no picture taking from sundown Friday to sundown Saturday) and then entered the temple for the services. A few candles and a kerosene lamp lit the room (a generator powers a light bulb, but it was not used during the services) as the congregation began by singing psalms in Luganda (one of the local tribal languages) to beautiful local melodies. Most of the ceremony was conducted in Hebrew and a community member led the prayers as the rabbi was in the U.S. receiving rabbinical training. Men sat primarily in front of the bimah with women on the side, similar to the seating arrangements in orthodox congregations. We used a traditional prayer book, singing the prayers in much the same way we did back at our synagogue in Washington. The children are taught to read Hebrew and many followed along. While the prayerbooks and the Torah came from American donations, the community makes its own beatiful yamakas (head coverings) and tallit (prayer shawls).

Following the evening service, they had an oneg shabbat, with homeade challah (cooked over an open fire). A mixture of local banana liquor mixed with orange soda substituted for the Manischevitz. An Israeli backpacker brought apples and honey which scored a major success with the children.

We returned again the next morning for services. In the bright light, we could better see our hosts. The per capita income in Uganda approaches $300 and this was not a wealthy community. Many had dressed in their finest for the holiday, some of the men wore suits and a few women wore colorful dresses, with high shoulders and carefully maintained head coverings, but others were attired in clothes donated from abroad or in torn or patched shirts. Nevertheless, all were excited about the services and were very pleased at our (particularly the Ambassador's) presence.

Back in the states, when reading the English translations of some of the prayers or hymns, I noted how dated they seemed, with language about "grain in the fields" and "tending cattle." Here, in rural Uganda, the prayers seemed more attuned to the local surroundings as maize, banana and millet crops covered the hillside with cows tied up in front of many houses. High Holidays for us in Washington meant going to a large, modern temple in the suburbs. Here, gazing out one window, I could watch chickens and goats nibbling at the grass. When I looked out the other, I saw waterfalls crashing down the lower face of the western edge of Mt. Elgon, 7,000 feet above sea level.

During the Torah reading, the children left the temple to sing songs. I heard many tunes that I remembered from camp years ago. I got called up for an Aaliyah (blessing before the reading of the Torah). Following the Torah reading, community leaders made speeches. The head of the congregation gave what was in effect a "State of the Community" presentation, touching on health care (AIDS prevention/usage of mosquito nets to prevent malaria), the economy (saving money from milking cows), to education (the need for more girls in school). The congregation invited the Ambassador to give a speech (note: when visiting local groups, it's always advisable to attend with a person more prestigious than you. They have to talk and you get to listen). Finally, as it was a beautiful day, we gathered outside for a while before we said our goodbyes.