Shabbat In Ethiopia

The following story is written by Rich’s son, Daniel, who went with Rich to Ethiopia. Rich and his wife wanted to share the story:

Friday night my dad and I had a Shabbat dinner we will never forget. But let me tell you, this wasn’t just any Shabbat dinner. At home my Shabbat dinners usually consist of getting dressed up nicely, sitting down at the table as a family (while my mother makes sure we’re wearing nice kippot), singing Shalom Aleicham, Eishat Chayil, and following up with Kiddush, washing, and a Motzie. We would then proceed to eat the meal in courses: fish, soup, salad, the main event (usually chicken and kugel), and then dessert. My mom might throw in a d’var Torah. But for the most part it’s a traditional Shabbat dinner.

This dinner on Friday the 12th was as opposite as I could get while still being Jewish. We were invited to the home of Dr. Rick Hodes, a Jewish American internal medicine doctor who lives in Addis, and was hired by the Joint Distribution Committee to take care of the Falasha Jews. In addition, he volunteers some of his time at an orphanage/medical clinic.

We walk in to the house and see about 10 Ethiopian children and maybe 4 or 5 other white guests (of which only 2 were Jewish). We introduce ourselves (although I met most of the kids a few days before hand) and start schmoozing with the crowd. Within the next 15 minutes more kids (which now total about 16 of which about 14 live with him), the doctor himself, and a few other guests pour into the house. It is now time to start. Like my mother, he gives all the males a head covering. But these are not just any skullcaps. He takes out this massive sack as if he’s Santa about to give each child worldwide a toy, and starts tossing out hats to everyone: big and bulky hats in the shape of menorahs. He then asks everyone to make a circle and hold hands with the person next to them. So there we are encircled hand in hand with complete strangers with menorahs on our heads.

If this wasn’t odd enough, we then went around the circle, formally introduced ourselves and answered the following very random question that one of the kids chose: What island would you most like to go to? (I said one of the Greek isles, and my dad, Madagascar). So that was fine, we each learned names and a little about the desires of others. Then we proceeded to sing “If I Had A Hammer”. I felt like I was either in a civil rights gathering or the Barney TV show. This differed from the show for one reason: I was actually enjoying myself. I don’t really know why we sang that song, but I guess it is kind of a generic motivational song that lifts up people’s spirits (and believe me there was plenty of uplifting that needed to be done with all of the diseased children).

Shalom Aleichem came next; all of his kids knew the words (none of them are Jewish). Kiddush and Motzie proceeded. That started off normally until he threw about 20 pieces of challah across the living room, crumbs falling everywhere, to each member present. This all took place in his living room because he lacked an appropriate sized table. I began to think of what my mother’s reaction would be if she saw bread crumbs all over our couch and our rug.

I smiled.

But then I did a double-take inside my head and said to myself, “This is not my home. It’s far from it.” There were kids present recovering from spinal surgery while some were anticipating surgery of there own. Some children had tuberculosis. One boy only had only one leg due to cancer. On top of that, none had mothers (Rick lives alone), let alone their birth parents. What do a few crumbs here and there matter when you have children as sick as these?

When sitting in a room surrounded by these kids, your small problems tend to just float away like tiny dust particles. As the night continued I soon forgot all about the crumbs. Soup followed. The kids brought all the guests tasty lentil soup in mugs. We all just sat around on the couches mingling and drinking our soup. This was probably the most informal dinner I have ever eaten. While waiting for the main course, more guests joined us, one of whom Dad befriended and has already set up a meeting with. The house now had representatives from Australia, Israel, the United States, and Ethiopia. We were a melting pot of cultured people from all ages.

I had finished my soup in about 10 minutes time and shortly after, the Ethiopian main course was ready to be devoured by plenty of hungry Jews and non-Jews alike. It was buffet style with injera and about 8 different vegetable salads and sauces (Rick is a kosher vegetarian so there is no way any meat enters his kitchen). After we had eaten, about 6 of the kids and I all gathered around a coffee table and played ‘Thirteen” (a card game that I had taught them earlier in the week which they are now all addicted to). A few other children were playing a 3-D version of tic-tac-toe. “It’s not fair. Whoever goes first always wins,” I overheard one of them say.

Meanwhile Dad was talking business with some of Rick’s other guests, who are also working for Ethiopian NGO’s. The Australians were telling stories of the adventures they’ve been on as they have traveled around the world to places like Madagascar. All the while the kid who only has one leg is jumping around - over tables and between couches to try and visit with everyone. It reminded me of a scene from the movie Daddy Day Care (a film about a couple of guys babysitting 12 rowdy kids), although if I were to make a movie about the dinner this specific scene would be accompanied by Stevie Wonder’s hit “Uptight (Everything’s Alright)”. The joy and speed of the song would synchronize perfectly with the scene and its settings. (If you haven’t heard the song, you should make it a priority to do so).

The night ended in a similar fashion, and as my dad and I left we couldn’t stop smiling. The doctor does this every Friday night, with an open invitation to anyone who is seeking a surreal Shabbat experience, or simply just a meal. This was a Shabbat dinner I will always remember, and it was truly the cherry on top of an unforgettable trip.

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