3 cars worth of us are on our way through palm tree forests on dirt roads that are treacherous, to say the least.  It’s a quiet existence in this part of the world, and people seem to be living in bamboo houses along the road, despite no electricity and little transportation.  It’s picturesque and on this overcast day, it’s a delight to be driving through the forest and seeing another slice of life.

We are on our way to Imo State University where we are meeting with the junior and senior librarians, both Nigerian Jews.  Howard has arranged a huge shipment of Jewish books of all varieties that is on a freighter destined to arrive in Nigeria in the next few months.  Synagogues and individuals will be recipients, but it was of common thought that somewhere public should all receive a library for the purpose of Jewish awareness and education.

 

The Junior Librarian is a published author and English is superb.  He sits down infront of my camera and we begin to talk about educating Nigerians about the Jewish people and their faith.  The name Jesus comes up more than once, and I start to suspect something is awry.  I ask him if he believes and/or prays to Jesus.  He says no, but prays to Yehoshua – the Hebrew name that Messianics and Sabbatarians have bestowed upon Jesus. It seems the senior librarian is also Messianic.  One has to wonder if it’s the safest thing to be entrusting the history and study of Judaism in Nigeria to those who have a largely different view of the religion’s main principles.  Others in the group are concerned as well, and some are just concerned that the university may not give non-students access to the library, and thus the books.  It seems Elder Elam does not want to have a discussion on either topic.

Following lunch, we went to exchange money at one of the Black Market Exchanges.  As we approached, dozens of tall men in Muslim dress shouted into our windows, inviting us to trade with them.  The In Your Face Shouting was scary.  We settled on an “office” that wasn’t much better.  I somehow brought in my video camera, kept it low, and filmed the entire process. Elder Elam even said to make sure I film the two pretty girls who were in the office.  Everyone seems to want to be on camera.

 

Our afternoon stop was with a local synagogue congregation, again on it own, at the end of a long dusty road.  An Israeli flag, synagogue and adjacent buildings make up the compound.  Cute kids run around, chickens and goats roam, and a warm crowd of people greet us.  A teenage boy blows a trumpet and in the middle of the afternoon, a man was putting on his tallit – the Jewish prayer shawl worn for morning prayer.  The synagogue seems to have an alter, and things like “Glory Hallelujah” are scrawled on the wall.  When I verified my hunch with Shmuel, I am correct.  This is a Messianic Synagogue.

We have a brief lunch at Mr. Bigg’s (Nigeria’s McDonalds – by the way, this is one of the only countries I have visited that doesn’t sport a restaurant).  Half of the things on the menu were not available, but they did serve a greasy piece of boney fish in a wax bag.  Elder Elam had a coke.

Since almost all of the Jews I’ve been spending time with have had a Messianic phase or transition period, I am glad to see just what it looks like, and how confusing the message can be.  Documenting this part of Judaism is important.  For Howard though, I am surprised that he would be brought here.  He has already told me that as a Rabbi in the American Conservative movement, he cannot aide or work with such organizations, and personally feels strongly about those trying to bastardize two religions into one created religion.  I find out that this synagogue is trying to shift to Rabbinical Judaism, and to Shema Yisrael, the umbrella organization of synagogues headed by Elder Elam.  

 

Efraim is the synagogue’s leader and is an eccentric man in his sixties, whose exuberance is both contagious and bizarre.  He’s easily excited and lets out a high-pitched scream to show his enthusiasm.  Efraim leads us in a traditional Igbo ceremony, complete with Kola Nuts and Palm Wine, made from the liquid found in palm trees.  I am directed to drink the full glass of Palm Wine in one gulp.  I manage to get the sweet, watery wine down and Efraim screams with joy.

 

My group seems to want to keep me away from the guy I coin, The Motorcycle Rabbi.  A young Nigerian guy in a kippah, riding a motorcycle with his buddy on the back, who has Chabad-like curly sidelocks, is too much to resist.  In our interview, he proclaims himself the youngest rabbi in Nigeria and swears he is not Messianic. I challenge him a few different ways, and then begin to give up, but not before he finishes our interview with a quote from Jesus.  Draw your own conclusion.

 

 

If I didn’t understand the rush to leave while at the synagogue, I did as we traversed the same un-even, crater-filled, dirt roads in the dark.  Complete darkness, and for some reason, cars either don’t have working headlights or are saving their power.  It’s always an interesting surprise when a car appears less than a foot away.

 

The prize at the end of the journey is Elder Elam’s family compound nested in the middle of the beautiful, lush palm forests.  There is no concern of Messianic Judaism here, and we are greeted by rousing songs.  There seem to be interesting people here, and it will be a nice place to spend the next two days for Shabbat.

Elder Efraim & a woman in the synagogue.