As we reach the top, it’s all smooth bald rock and far reaching horizon.  Abuja stretches for miles and miles and is just as sprawling as a North American city.  Behind us lays more mountainous forests, controlled by one of the local tribes with free reign to farm it, leave it, or clear-cut it.  We passed people earlier chopping down trees – no rules against it.

 

We are finally at the top, and the spot Habbakkuk wants to show me. On the flat smooth rock high about the city and almost in arms-reach of the clouds lies a huge Magen David (Star of David), surrounded by a ring of large rocks.  In the middle of the star are a group of additional rocks. I have to look at it a few times from a few different angles to figure out what exactly it is and where it came from.  Habbakkuk pipes in that he built this, and my immediate Western reaction is that it just seems a little too cult-like to be Jewish, and completely disconnected from anything I’ve read about the items one should build for Jewish ritual.  But, I’ve been in Nigeria long enough to now know that people like Habbakkuk do things like this as an extra way of feeling connected to Judaism.  Without the opportunity to go eat at Canter’s Deli, or go take a Hebrew course, or just wander through a Jewish bookstore, one finds his or her own way to connect.  Habbakkuk tells me that this is his place to just come, be alone, think, pray, and be with nature.  He shows me a little shelter that he has built, and tells me that he comes here and spends a few days to re-connect.  Before we leave, he tells me that there are exactly 12 rocks in the middle of the Magen David, and they symbolize the 12 Tribes of Israel.  For a group of people who believe their history traces to one of these tribes, I imagine there is much deliberate thought in all the rocks being placed together, inside the Magen David.

 

Our journey back shows no sign of wild animals – even though they tell me monkeys sleep in some of the caves around here.  Back home, there are some last interview requests, and I’m happy to conduct them, using the last of my remaining energy.  

 

I am truly exhausted, and my time has come to an end, but I feel like I could also be happy staying another six months.  With a day’s access to a hot shower, some laundry, a chance to clean out my nostrils with some fresh air, and perhaps a good night’s sleep, I feel like I would be rejuvenated enough to stay.  I could see myself teaching Hebrew, helping build a school, or perhaps starting a business.  But the truth is that work and other responsibility call me home, and my hosts and friends need to return to their own lives.  I shall return before long – with the promise of seeing some wild animals, and hopefully with copies of my finished film in hand.  Until then, greater adventures will await.  

 

My friends and brothers pile into a car to take me the hour’s drive to the airport, and stay with me until the very last moment possible.  It occurs to me that none of them have ever been in a plane, and most will never experience the feeling of leaving Nigeria for vacation or to pay me a visit.  I have tremendous love for the people I have met and spent time with, but also feel tremendous guilt.  I feel guilty for not having done enough, not giving away more, not bringing more, for having opportunities and access to wealth that they will never have, and just for leaving.  It’s my first real exposure to the disparity of wealth in this world, and it’s a cloud that will remain in my head for a while.  

 

My Jewish Brothers and Sisters in Nigeria have wisely told me to not let guilt get in the way of the important work I have ahead of me.  Their only wish is that I go home and tell people that they exist, that I show my photos, share my stories, and finish my film.  With the completion of this journal entry, I have fulfilled a portion of that promise.  More work lies ahead, but I am fulfilled by the interest and response from my friends and family back home, and the hope that you will share this with others.

 

I have 40 hours of footage to start cutting, and some people at PBS to start convincing, but I soon look forward to letting my brothers and sisters tell their own story in the film, “Re-Emerging: The Jews of Nigeria”.

The climb is tough but feels good.  I feel lucky to have good shoes and light clothes.  We pass women coming down the hill who have been up the mountain for hours, collecting firewood to sell at the market.  It’s tough enough doing the climb, I can’t imagine doing it with 10 pounds of wood upon my head.