Behind the Headlines: at Absorption Center in Ashkelon, Ethiopians Adjust to New Lifestyle

The sounds are strange, the smells are different, but the “Shalom” is the same greeting used by Jews all over the world.

It is used by Israelis whose parents came from Germany, Poland and Morocco. Now the greeting is offered with the same intent and meaning by dark-skinned Ethiopian children playing on a lawn in Ashkelon.

They stare at a reporter’s white skin and blue eyes with curiosity and, if they can muster the courage, cry out, “Shalom, shalom.”

Almost two-thirds of the 578 newly arrived Ethiopians housed at the former French Recreation Village in Ashkelon are children. As usual, they are the quickest to adapt.

While their parents are busy dealing with the seemingly endless paperwork involved in registering as new immigrants, the Jewish Agency has set up a day-care center to amuse the nearly 400 children.

Until a few years ago, Israelis came here to vacation in a Club Med environment. Now, the facilities have become an absorption center for the Ethiopian immigrants who arrived in Operation Solomon at the end of May.

Kindergarten teachers organize play groups and continue Hebrew lessons begun at a school run by the American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee in Addis Ababa.

The children familiarize themselves with the heaps of toys donated by Ashkelon residents. The weather has been benevolent as well: sunny with mild breezes. The youngsters can sit on the lawn, which allows for easy access to their parents.

‘MOST SORT THEMSELVES OUT’

The manager of this Jewish Agency-run absorption center is a woman familiar with the problems of settling in a new country. Ofra Aloni came from Morocco about 30 years ago. She manages three absorption centers in Ashkelon.

“Each group has its own problems,” she said, “but in the end, most sort themselves out.”

Aloni had only 48 hours to prepare for the Ethiopians sent to Ashkelon. She is happy she managed to find this one-time resort village. Her only regret is that it has a central kitchen, rather than separate cooking facilities in each unit.

Registering the Ethiopians is a arduous task.

There are no statistics available, but it seems that a majority of the newly arrived families consist of husbands and wives who have each been married at least once before.

Jewish Agency officials, helped by an Ethiopian translator, require an average of two to three hours to unravel the often very complicated social and blood lines of each family.

Due to the haste of the initial registration in Addis Ababa, mistakes were made. Patience and repeated questioning are needed now to make sure the ages and names of immigrants are correct.

While a kess — the Ethiopian Jewish religious authority — officiated at most of the marriages, divorces were often quick split-ups without much formality. Each of the ex-spouses usually remarried in a few months.

That worries Israel’s Orthodox Chief Rabbinate, which insists that Ethiopian Jews undergo ceremonial conversion.

Without’ it thousands of Ethiopian children will be branded mamzerim” illegitimate — by the rabbinate because there father is not the man their mother is currently married to.

Two of these Children in danger of being stigmatized are Aramito Bitscha and Wasu Federe, born to the same mother, Imawai Federe.

FIRST ETHIOPIAN BABY CIRCUMCISED

Aramito, a thin 12-year-old girl with a serious eye infection, is not the daughter of Imawai’s current husband; nor is she the daughter of her first husband, to whom she was married at the age of 12 and divorced from without the aid of a kess.

Aramito is the offspring of Imawai’s second marriage, to Zemu Eremi, which lasted less than a year. No kess officiated at that wedding, and there were no witnesses.

When the social worker, Gila, heard this, she gave up, closed the file and announced that the case would be sent to Tel Aviv.

Ethiopians have learned to fear that pronouncement. Anything unclear goes to Tel Aviv for further investigation and more probing into the family history.

Although only two families were registered in four hours, everyone took a break when Aloni entered the room to announce they were all invited to the brit milah (ritual circumcision) of the first Ethiopian baby born in Ashkelon since Operation Solomon.

The ceremony took place in the communal dining room, with only the passive participation of the parents.

Danake, the mother, sat on a chair holding the baby born only hours after she arrived Saturday. She was surrounded by her five older sons, while the father sat on a chair outside, surrounded by his brothers.

The mohel directed the ceremony without help from the aged kess, who was placed on a chair next to the mother.

The infant was named Shai, which means “gift” in Hebrew.

‘HUGGED AND COULDN’T SAY A WORD’

After the circumcision, while most of the families settled down to an Israeli-style lunch of rice, vegetables, salad and a meat stew, a happy family reunion took place near the entrance of absorption center.

Shaul, a 24-year-old soldier from Afula, arrived in Israel from Ethiopia six years ago with his mother and five younger brothers. He had searched the length and breadth of the country for relatives.

Here, in the former French resort village, he found his mother’s younger brother and was happily explaining to him how to use one of the public telephones to call his sister in Afula.

Although he heard his uncle might have been among the new arrivals, Shaul had about given up hope.

“I have been nearly everywhere the last few days,” he said, “In Jerusalem, I found my father, who had heard that I died on the way to Israel.

“It was wonderful, just wonderful,” he said, on the verge of tears.

“We didn’t talk, we just held each other, hugged and couldn’t say a word, we were so happy.”

A Jewish Agency official passing the happy scene mused, “It is at times like these I understand what Zionism is all about.”