Cathrielah, African Hebrew Israelite

Tell me about your family and your childhood.

— I was born in Chicago, Illinois, in 1956. My father was a machinist, and my mother worked at the post office. I had three sisters. We were living a regular life, like anybody in Chicago. But when I was ten years old, my father went to a class in a synagogue on the Southside of Chicago, and then he took us, and we would go there to class every Shabbat.

In the class, the brothers taught us about our history through the Bible. They explained that people without the knowledge of their history is like a tree without roots. And so that was us. We was like a tree without roots, and they were teaching us about our roots, and that we were Hebrew Israelites. When the nation of Israel was dispersed, it was dispersed to the four corners of the earth. We believe that we are one of the lost tribes of Israel.

He said we wasn’t coming straight to Israel, we would come the way that we left. And the way that we left was as slaves through Africa.

So when did you decide to go to Israel?

— In January of 1967, our spiritual leader, Benjamin, had a vision and said it was time to return to the Holy Land. But he said we wasn’t coming straight to Israel, we would come the way that we left. And the way that we left was as slaves through Africa.

The country that was chosen as our first destination was Liberia because the Liberian Constitution established the right to citizenship for returning slaves. So, we sent a few brothers to Liberia to check it out. Then, we bought 500 acres of land in the forest 100 miles away from the capital, Monrovia. In the course of six months, about 400 of us gathered there. But only about 120 of us stayed, and the rest returned.

Why did most of your people return?

— Our parents were very naive. They were young, in their 20s. Most of them had come from the city and found themselves in a rainforest. It was a big adjustment.

When we first came, we were trying to eat the Western diet, and the Liberians said, oh, you stupid, stupid people. Trying to eat a Western diet in Liberia can be very expensive! But if you learn how to eat like the locals, food is everywhere. And once we learned, it was great things all around us. Plenty of green vegetables, lots of fruit, great pineapples, grapefruit, and all kinds of wonderful citrus.

We would trade a shirt for a big bowl of oranges or a pair of shoes for a big pan of rice. We survived like that.

Did you build houses in the rainforest?

— As I told you, my parents were very naive. So we came with the tents that we had bought from the store. And I'm not talking about army tents; I'm talking about camping tents. In West Africa, there is a six-month rainy season. We came right before the rainy season started. And when I say rain, I have never seen this much rain. Anyway, for the first six or seven months, we were in those tents. They were beginning to rot from the mildew, so my father built us a house out of bamboo.

We created our own village. We grew a little food—some of the brothers and sisters were from the South of America, so they knew how to grow food. Sometimes, we would sell things like clothes because locals worshiped stuff from America. So we would trade a shirt for a big bowl of oranges or a pair of shoes for a big pan of rice. When some of the people had left, we used their things and sold them to the Africans and survived like that.

I think it was harder for the adults. But as a child, I loved it. I had an adventure in my life, discovering things that I couldn't see in the city. In a country, I could see the stars. And when there was a full moon, it was fantastic!

Didn't your parents want to go back?

— My father did. He even got tickets, and then he asked us if we wanted to go. And we said we didn't. So he sent the tickets back, and we all stayed there for two and a half years.

My mother had four children before she left for Liberia. She lost one in America. So she took three girls to Liberia, and she was expecting my brother. She gave birth to him in Liberia. While we were there, we had a tragedy. My youngest sister fell into a well and drowned. So when we came to Israel, there were only three of us. Here, she had another three. She had the first sabra [born in Israel] for our community here.

How did you decide that it was time to go to Israel?

— When we went to Liberia, it was to throw off some negative characteristics that we needed to throw off and that we had learned in America and be more prepared to adjust to life in the Holy Land. Initially, the plan was to walk across Africa to Israel. This is how naive our parents were! That was impossible. So we flew to Israel in three different waves, and I was in the last wave. We came in March of 1970. Arriving here was another big adjustment.

How were you received in Israel?

— We had no money, but first, we were received well by the Sochnut, the Jewish Agency. They put us in school. They gave everybody a bed, a hot plate, a blanket, a sheet, and a pillow. If you wanted to get credit, you had that option as a New Oleh [new immigrant]. But we didn't go that route because we didn't want to go into debt. We went to Dimona, it was a very small town established by Moroccans in the 50s. The brothers and sisters found employment, and all the children who came from Liberia went to school.

We came from the jungle to the desert. I was like, where's the green? I was the only black person in my whole class.

How did you feel when you came here?

— We came from the jungle to the desert. It was the hardest thing for me. I was like, where's the green? I had to get used to the complexion of the people. I was the only black person in my whole class. I was coming from a country where everybody was black. And now I was the different one. And they wanted to touch my hair and my skin. I was like, I'm not trying to touch your skin or your hair! I looked totally different. I wasn't wearing what they were wearing. And they were looking at me like, really?! I was lonesome. Anyway, that was an adjustment. After a while, I was okay.

They deported some of us back to America. They deported my brother when he was 18 years old. He was born in Liberia and had never seen America.

Did you receive Israeli citizenship?

— Soon after us, our people began to come from America to join us. Instead of going to Liberia, they came straight to Israel. As they began to come, the authorities changed their law of return. They said that we weren't Jews, so we had no status until after the Gulf War.

They deported some of us back to America. They deported my brother when he was 18 years old. He was born in Liberia and had never seen America. We had no medical assistance. So, if you had to see a doctor, it cost a lot of money. Employment was difficult because some people took advantage of our situation, and brothers would work, and then their employers would run off with the money or wouldn't pay them.

When the new members from the states began to come, their children were not allowed in school. So we created our own school called the Kingdom School in Holiness, and our parents taught there. It was a school without walls.

How many people are in the community now?

— Maybe 2,000. We're in Arad, Mitzvah-Rivon, Dimona, Yeruchem, Tiberias, and Tel Aviv. About 30 people remain from the original group that came from Liberia.

Can you describe your community customs?

— We had to organize ourselves for the survival of our community. So, we have leaders who are responsible for the well-being of our community.

We are vegan. One of the largest communities of vegans in the world. Our way of life promotes good health practices, concern, and love for our fellow man.

We observe all the holidays in the Torah. We also celebrate leaving America, calling it New World Passover.

You said that you had no status until after the Gulf War. What happened then?

— After the Gulf War in 1990, we got A5 temporary resident visas. If our children join the IDF, then the parents can get citizenship. I still have a permanent residency.

So many Israelis dream of moving to the U.S., and you traveled in the opposite direction to find yourself in the middle of a desert near the nuclear plant. Don't the young villagers find that upsetting?

— My family has four generations in Israel: my mother, my siblings, and I, as well as my siblings' children and their children. Everybody who embarked on this journey to Liberia made personal sacrifices. But growth comes from sacrifice. When things are hard, they have more value than something just given to you. If you work for change and then you see change come about, that's a great reward.

Some of the young people don't get it. They joined the greater Israeli society. Some of them went to university and said: "You know, when I go to university, I don't always wear the culture. I'm tired of answering the question: "Why are you dressed like that?"" I understand. When you are younger, you don't always value things. Some of them will get it later.

I'm not embarrassed by wearing my culture. As a matter of fact, whenever I travel anywhere in the world, I'm complimented about how I'm dressed.

I do not want to live in the United States. One of the richest nations in the world, how is it that you have a large population that is homeless? How could you let that be?

What about you? Aren't you tired of living in a country with its constant wars?

— We lived through the Yom Kippur War, the Gulf War when we were in the safe room sealed up with gas masks, and the Lebanon War.

I have a photography teacher online. He lives in Japan and has students from all over the world. When this war broke out, everybody asked me if I was all right. I said, yes, I'm fine. One lady suggested that if you need help getting out, I'll get you out. I said, no, I'm fine. I'm not going anywhere. And I don't think they understood why. So, I explained to them: "Everybody has a place on the planet that they want to be. This is home for them. This place is home for me. And whatever happens is what happens." I feel like I belong here.

I do not want to live in the United States. I've been there visiting family. I'm not comfortable there. Most people see America as a place for money and wealth. But over there, people struggle. There are a lot of homeless people. One of the richest nations in the world, how is it that you have a large population that is homeless? How could you let that be?

You're used to living in the circumstances of ongoing war conflict, but what do you think about the Arab-Jews conflict?

— I believe that we can have peace in the Holy Land. But some people like war. You killed my grandfather, I killed your son, you killed my daughter. And so the cycle is on and on. But at some point, somebody got to say enough. We all want to live here, so let's figure it out. You can say that it might not be that simple, but for me, it's that simple.

I think people can learn to live together in whatever they believe. But you have to respect other people. You don't necessarily have to live like them, but you have to respect them for whatever they believe in. If you treat your neighbor like you want to be treated, then you'll get back what you give.

Text Asya Chachko
Illustration Victor Melamed
Photo Samuel Saada

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