Ethiopian Israelis love their country but not the racism

Press Release

February 15, 2006

An Ethiopian Fellasha immigrant is seen at the Nurit absorption center in Beersheva, southern Israel. There are some 100,000 Ethiopian Jews living in Israel and unlike most Jews in the diaspora, who are granted Israeli citizenship automatically upon arrival, Ethiopia’s Jews needed the Jewish state’s rabbinate to recognize them as Jews in 1975 before being allowed to enter the country.(AFP/Marco Longari )

“I like life here, but sometimes I feel as if I live in a racist society, just because my skin is black,” says the 25-year-old woman, one of around 100,000 Ethiopian Jews living in Israel.

When she first landed in 1998, she was sent to the Nurit absorption centre in Beesheva, southern Israel, where today she works to help new Ethiopian immigrants adapt to life in the Jewish state.

The olim, or immigrants, from Ethiopia “know nothing about the modern world. I often have to show them how to use electricity, gas or the telephone,” she says.

“It was very difficult in the beginning,” she recalls, “but today I feel like any Israeli.”

This year, the Jewish Agency is celebrating 30 years since the arrival of the first Ethiopian Jews — hailed by the immigration outfit as one of the most important accomplishments of the modern state.

Yet Salam is furious at the fact that what keeps Ethiopians apart from the rest of society is the colour of their skin. “This is disgusting, we arrived in Israel to feel at home, but what we get is racism.”

“Most nightclubs won’t let blacks in because of their colour,” she says for example. “So we have to travel from Beersheva to ‘our’ nightclubs in Jerusalem or Tel Aviv,” more than an hour’s drive away.

Unlike most Jews in the diaspora, who are granted Israeli citizenship automatically upon arrival, Ethiopia’s Jews needed the Jewish state’s rabbinate to recognize them as Jews in 1975 before being allowed to enter the country.

Yoni Addesu also speaks of a deep-running feeling among Ethiopians of being second-class citizens. “I did my military service, like everyone else, but people look down on me because I’m black.”

But Addesu and Salam, who are both married, proudly believe the only place they want to live is Israel. “This is our home,” they say.

Long rows of sandstone apartments at the absorption centre house hundreds of immigrants, mostly members of the Falashmura, Ethiopian Jews who were forced to convert to Christianity but remained closely attached to Jewish tradition.

It was only last year that the government gave the green light for thousands more Falashmura to immigrate to Israel. Hundreds are expected to arrive in the coming weeks and months.

Wrapped in a blue-and-white cloth, 67-year-old Zbainish watches the rain fall outside her small flat.

She points a finger at the wall, where a painting of her village in Ethiopia and some traditional ornaments she made herself hang precariously.

“I am happy here, I always wanted to come to Israel,” she says in her native Amharic.

Zbainish lost her daughter-in-law in a Palestinian suicide bombing in Beersheva last year but admits she understands little about politics.

“I am now learning Hebrew, and soon I hope to go live with my children in (the Mediterranean town of) Netanya,” is all she says about her future.

Unlike young Ethiopian immigrants, the elderly often find it hard to integrate in Israeli society, spending most of the time at home and taking care of grandchildren. Unemployment among older Ethiopians is extremely high.

But despite the difficulties, the head of the absorption centre, Moshe Bahatu, insists Ethiopian absorption has been a great success.

“We all come here because we are Zionists,” he says. “I had to walk from Ethiopia to Sudan and live in squalor for months before I was brought to Israel 26 years ago.”

“I arrived here literally naked — no clothes, no education and no money, and I built my way up to where I am today.”

“What I tell new immigrants is that no one will help us if we don’t help ourselves. This is a great country that offers us a lot, but we have to act ourselves,” the tall 54-year-old says, sitting comfortably in his office.