Saturday, February 11th, 2006
Today I was reminded of how archaic and frustrating Judaism can be. It’s interesting to me that while more and more of my friends and family in North America are falling out of the faith, or choosing more multi-cultural roads, the people here are committed and are trying to make up for lost time by learning about Judaism every chance they get. On this Shabbat, it occurred to me that I hadn’t been to a synagogue service on a Saturday morning in quite some time, and felt like I had to explain to people when I didn’t really participate in the service that I’m not that religious. Perhaps I was just more scorned that I wasn’t allowed to use my cameras throughout the whole day – that’s the archaic part. Ancient laws regarding work vs. rest, and interpretations today that include flicking a light switch or snapping a photo as work. I was glad to see that the Nigerian Jews were wrestling with this concept as much as I was – gripping their cell phones as I did my camera.
Shabbat Morning: CJ (The Comedian) & one of the many kids.
After lunch, a walk seemed like a good idea and my loyal groupies – Habbakkuk’s children and nieces and nephews came along and toured me to their friends’ homes, who joined me as well turning my walk into a parade of the White Man who will snap your picture. We also went to a park, through a market, past families living in bamboo houses, lots of girls getting their hair combed out and re-braided on the street, a woman who invited us in to see her turkeys, a woman who hollered from down the street to give me a Christian pamphlet, and lots of unfriendly stares, but more friendly hellos. It should have occurred to me that disappearing with the children for a while would freak out some of the adults – perhaps I’m on too much adrenaline to have that clarity.
Shabbat Morning: A woman and baby arrive at synagogue. Gerrard and Che Che peek out the synagogue; Hezekiah & Israel.
That afternoon a baby was named, and so was I. She is now Hadassah Ben Baruch ve Miriam, and I am now ChukuEmeke – my new Nigerian name which means God created a unique person. This was of course only given after two gifts of traditional Nigerian outfits, complete with long shirts, loose trousers and little hats. As I modeled my new outfits, everyone and their mother insisted on individual photos which everyone hurdled themselves into anyway. I felt it a huge compliment, and an even larger amount of acceptance to be made into a Nigerian man, and it seemed to bring them and I even closer.
Girls get their hair braided, while boys pose.
My followers take a break in the park. Hezikiah jumps for a mango, then chases a goat. His sister, Chineye looks skeptical.
However what really made me feel accepted was an invite by CJ and Gerrard to escape the synagogue for some beers at the local pub – a tiny store whose power went out with the rest of the neighborhood halfway through our drinks. I learned that both intend on only marrying Jewish women (quantity unimportant), both feel their lack of wealth is the most difficult obstacle in meeting a woman, and both say they will not be having sex til their wedding nights. I challenged their truthfulness on the latter. Both seemed far too smooth and the Nigerians seem like a warm people. Apparently some Jewish law is dictating that and they held fast to their statement. I must have been away the day they taught that in Hebrew School.
The Havdallah ceremony concluded Shabbat, and the camera ban. Since we are leaving tomorrow morning for areas in the East, it suddenly became a last chance to interview some of the people we would not be seeing again. More interesting discussions, pleas, explanations and exclamation.
Newly named Hadassah and her mother, Miriam. ChukuEmeke with Shmuel, Shaoul, and Shmuel
Me and more babies, children and adults itching for a photo; The self-named Jewish Homeboys
