https://jewishstandard.timesofisrael.com/its-a-growing-community/


https://jewishstandard.timesofisrael.com/its-a-growing-community/


Ms. Saks wanted to learn more about the Nigerian Jewish community. “Like a lot of Americans, who are not aware of Jewish communities other than in America, Israel, and Europe, I was curious, especially because he seemed very passionate about Judaism,” she said.

From that message on Facebook, a relationship began to build. First, she followed Mr. Nwafor. Then he sent her a friend request, and they began to message back and forth. Those messages graduated to phone calls, and then to Facetime sessions, eventually every day. The “romantic relationship” kept growing. The more she learned about Moshe, and the more she learned about Nigeria and Moshe’s Jewish community there, the more she wanted to meet him in person.




Eventually, interacting with each other virtually wasn’t enough; Moshe and I needed to figure out if we could make our relationship work. In November 2020, the United States Embassy in Abuja remained closed due to the pandemic, so it was impossible for Moshe to obtain a tourist visa to visit me. The only option was for me to go to him. I had to travel to Atlanta to get a visa, since Atlanta had the only Nigerian consulate still issuing them. I had to scramble to find a flight to Nigeria after my first one was canceled and arrange for pre-flight Covid testing as well as Airbnb quarantine accommodations in Abuja for after my arrival. And, because I was traveling to Western Africa, I had to obtain the standard vaccinations and medication.

When I landed and saw Moshe waiting outside the airport with a huge grin on his face, I knew I had made the right decision despite the difficulties.


Eliana and Moshe plan to establish an organization to aid Jews in Nigeria and elsewhere in Africa.
Before my trip, I had reached out to several Philadelphia-area synagogues as well as the Israel Center of Conservative Judaism in Flushing, N.Y., led by my father, Rabbi Moshe Saks, and the Huntington Jewish Center in Long Island, N.Y., led by my brother, Rabbi Ari Saks, for donations of tefillin, mezuzot, mahzorim, siddurim and tzitzit. I even managed to locate a large shofar to ring in the Jewish New Year, a special request from Moshe. So when Moshe brought me to his family’s compound in Kubwa, I didn’t arrive empty-handed. The first to greet me was Moshe’s father, whose warm, infectious smile instantly made me feel at home.

The warm welcome carried over into my first Shabbat in Nigeria.



It was amazing to see people whose existence was unknown to me only months before daven and read Torah beautifully. Most of the tunes were unfamiliar to me, so I hummed along while reading the tefillot, letting the melodies and spiritual warmth wash over me. I was particularly impressed by the synagogue’s hazzan, a role filled by the most recent bar mitzvah boy. Watching 13-year-old Shmuel Ben Baruch daven Shacharit—the hazzan leads the morning gathering while others take turns running the other services—made it apparent how devoted the community is to educating its youth.

We gathered for kiddush in a small room next to the sanctuary, which is housed in a building on Sar Habbakuk’s property. The challah had been baked over a coal stove by Moshe’s mother, Hulder, who is the “ema” of the shul, a role similar to a rebbetzin. The unbraided loaf was smaller and darker than traditional Ashkenazi challah, and its texture was dense—and delicious. Lunch was spicy fish stew with rice, a typical Shabbat meal for the congregation.

As the special guest, each Shabbat I spent in Nigeria, I was tasked with giving a dvar Torah, something I hadn’t done since my bat mitzvah. I consulted with the rabbis in my family via FaceTime to come up with something new to teach my hosts and their congregants. But each Shabbat, most already knew the midrash or commentary I shared. Each Shabbat, it was me learning from them.

I encountered that same feeling later in my trip, when Moshe and I traveled 300 miles south to the state of Anambra for the wedding of his sister, Shiloh.

We visited five synagogues in Anambra and at each, the locals asked if they were making any mistakes in their practice of Judaism. They weren’t. Jews in Nigeria have expended so much effort to study Judaism that the longer I spent with them, the more I felt like an imposter.


Moshe with bar mitzvah boy Shmuel Ben Baruch
One reason for this perpetual state of learning is because Nigerian Jews realize that, whatever the exact nature of their religious origins, for centuries, their ancestors had not practiced Judaism. Ultimately, they feel that they must convert to become halachically Jewish—and that takes study.

Over the last 15 years, rabbis involved in kiruv organizations, most notably Kulanu, which supports emerging and returning Jewish communities around the world, have visited the Igbo Jews, bringing with them religious items and teachings. But few Nigerians have undergone conversion because usually only one clergy person—such as Franklin of Temple Emanu-El or Rabbi Howard Gorin, retired leader of Tikvat Israel Congregation in Rockville, Md., after whom Sar Habbakuk named his own synagogue—visits at a time, and conversion requires a three-person beit din.

When I learned of the congregants’ desire to convert, I reached out to my father, Rabbi Moshe Saks, who offered to form a Conservative beit din for their conversion this summer. His first action was to ask Rabbi Gershom Sizomu, the leader of the Abayudaya in Uganda, to head the panel. (In 2008, Sizomu received smicha from the Ziegler School of Rabbinic Studies at the American Jewish University.) Sizomu is a familiar face to Moshe, since he traveled to Uganda in 2014 to study at Sizomu’s yeshiva. During Moshe’s time with the Abayudaya, he underwent conversion, making him one of only six Nigerians to do so.

But soon, there will be more converted Jews in Nigeria. Tikvat Israel members are busily preparing for a mass conversion—of approximately 50 people—in August that will be overseen by Sizomu, my father and Rabbi Gerald Sussman of Temple Emanu-El in Staten Island, N.Y. Bonita Nathan Sussman, Sussman’s wife, will also make the trip in her capacity as a Kulanu vice president and liaison to newly emerging, returning and isolated Jewish communities.

All that studying, all those years of living Jewish lives, will formally bring these men and women into the Jewish tent. Their determination is understandable: I have heard from many in Moshe’s community that while they primarily want to convert to self-affirm their Jewish identities, they also struggle to validate their Jewishness to the rest of the Jewish world.

In addition to getting to know Nigeria’s Jewish community during my trip, Moshe and I spent the time getting to know each other, spending every day together—and falling further in love. Toward the end of my trip, on the eve of his sister’s wedding, Moshe proposed. I was still in my pajamas when he planted the ring inside my breakfast of eggs with spicy indomie noodles, which have a similar texture to Ramen. I looked up with startled eyes to see Moshe on a bended knee. I happily said yes!


Shofar in hand, Sar Habbakuk stands outside the synagogue he founded with (from left) his children Chizoba Magen Bat Habakkuk and Moshe; congregants Japhet Echegwo and Yitzhak Ben Avraham; and (in front) Shmuel Ben Baruch and Eliana.
I will be returning to Nigeria with several family members in August for the conversion. It was heartbreaking to have to leave Moshe at the beginning of January, right after we got engaged, but we were able to reunite in Rwanda at the end of April for a quick visit and to prepare for the conversion.

Meanwhile, Moshe and I will continue working to obtain a K-1 visa for him to travel to the United States—still challenging due to the pandemic—where we will legally marry and stand under the chuppah for our Jewish wedding, which I want to celebrate surrounded by my family. Beyond that, our happily ever after includes establishing an organization to aid the Jews of Nigeria and other African Jewish communities.



https://www.hadassahmagazine.org/2021/07/07/finding-love-judaism-nigeria/