Celebrating Passover at 8,000 Feet in Kenya’s Great Rift Valley.

Two mountain communities join the Sub-Saharan African Jewish Alliance in a historic celebration.

Pesach, annually observed as a festival of freedom, is a time that unifies Jews globally as they commemorate the departure from Egypt—a story of enslavement, pain, perseverance, and, at the end, redemption. For those who identify as Jewish, the observance of Pesach serves as a significant marker of Jewish identity around the world. This year, my personal journey in celebration of Pesach led me to unexpected heights—the highest peak I have reached, up on the chilly mountains of central Kenya.

My trip was part of a wider East African tour, following a vibrant matzah baking event in Uganda sponsored by Kulanu, which brought together 22 Jewish communities. At the end of the two days of non-stop matzah baking in Mokuno, I drew up an itinerary to cross from Uganda into Kenya using the Malaba border crossing. Originally setting out to visit the Jewish community in Kasuku, I stumbled upon another isolated congregation on one of the hills of Molo municipality during my journey back. Both communities are nestled amidst gentle, undulating hills of the Great Rift Valley passage.

Shortly before midday, I found myself across the border into Kenya— and the first part of my itinerary would be a taxi to Nakuru, the 4th biggest town with an urban population of 570,000, according to the 2019 Kenya Population Census. But before we got to this unique town, which has surprising Jewish parameters dating many years ago, our route took us through Eldoret, which I was told was the hometown of the current leader of the country. Eldoret, approximately 85 kilometers westward to the border, is a small and compact town with a buzzing lifestyle that developed during the colonial era, around the 1940s.

From Nakuru, my next destination was Ol Kalou, a place we arrived at after a considerable climb along an uphill path to reach the highlands. Throughout the journey, prior to entering Nakuru County, the stunning beauty of East Africa’s landscape unfolds before one’s eyes. Uganda, known as the pearl of Africa, boasts a stunning array of topography, while Kenya offers its own captivating land features, showcasing the remarkable geography of the Rift Valley country. Crossing into Kenya from Uganda, I immediately noticed the shift from Uganda’s bustling centers to Kenya’s serene and expansive landscapes. The rolling hills, cool temperature, and breathtaking views created an unforgettable setting for my next Pesach experience.

After Ol Kalou, I proceeded to Kasuku, the location of Kehillat Yisrael Synagogue. The journey took approximately 50 minutes, but we experienced an additional one and a half hours of delay due to a road accident. Thankfully, the road accident did not claim any lives, Baruch Hashem. However, by the time I traced my way to the community, they were having kiddush and then a sumptuous Shabbat erev meal, which I joined. Having previously researched them on the internet and even authored a spotlight article about the Kasuku Jewish community, it was a heartwarming experience to finally meet them. We sang Brikat Hamazon together before retiring to bed in the chilly mountain night.

Upon waking in the morning, I was greeted by a vivid understanding of the topography around me, having arrived the previous night under the cover of darkness. The synagogue, a modest square-shaped structure, is situated on the Gathudia side of Kasuku, perched on a hilly upland that offers a view of the Aberdare range of mountains stretching across the horizon before you. One of the characteristic features of the rift valley regions is lakes and green-grassed rolling valleys of different peak heights. At the foot of the 165 km Aberdare mountain range, the waters of Lake Olbolossat are clearly visible from the Synagogue, a distance of about 10 km.

At the end of the Shacharit service, we gathered again in the home of the leader of the community, Yosef Ben Avraham Njogu, a dedicated leader from the Kenyan Kikuyu tribe. The gathering includes women, younger girls, boys, youth, and elders of the community— all of whom appear cheerful as Pesach preparations are set to begin later in the evening, after Havdallah. Instructions were dished out by Yosef regarding how the men and women would split roles to save time, ensuring the Seder night begins as early as possible.

As night descended, the Kasuku community gathered for the first seder night— an evening filled with joy, songs, and stories of the exodus. Before now, we witnessed the spirit of unity and respect for authority, as the men and women jointly came together to prepare for the festival meals. Celebrating the Seder at an elevation of 8,000 feet above sea level added a unique experience to the event. Picture yourself on a chilly evening, enveloped by the vibrant energy of Jewish worshippers in a remote setting, with towering mountains and various peaks surrounding you.

First of all, the best spot to take shelter from the cold night was an enclosed compartment meant for the kitchen space, even though the social hall under construction behind the synagogue building offers more space. We then brought some local stoves into the rectangular-shaped room, burning charcoal to maintain the room’s warmth. We sat together around an extended table laden with symbolic food, including maror (bitter herbs), charoset (sandwich), and, of course, the matzah, which they purchased through the synagogue in Nairobi, capital of Kenya. The community, in full attendance, paid attention as Moshe Ben Avraham, a hazan and one of the sons of the community leader, read the haggadah, the ancient text that tells the story of the Israelites’ liberation from slavery and oppression in Egypt.

By the time we reached the part where we sang the traditional Dayenu—”It would have been enough”—I couldn’t help but reflect on how much the community had achieved. Despite being in a remote part of the rift valley, they had developed their practice of Judaism as fast as they could, thanks to their faith and resilience. Their unity, which has grown over the years, was reflected on their faces as we recited “Next Year in Y’rushalahim” at the end of the Seder.

I spent the next four unforgettable days in Kasuku, using the first three days to interact and expand my connections and knowledge, followed by a final day trip for an adventure on Lake Olbolossat, where I explored one of Kenya’s hidden natural treasures. In the company of Moshe and Samuel, members of the Kehillat Israel community, we set off for an afternoon adventure along the serene waters of the lake. The skies smiled at us with sunny weather and a blue heaven with white floating clouds, perfect for photography.

Lake Olbolosat, named after a Maasai tribe, extends around 42 kilometers and possesses a narrow width throughout its course. As the only natural lake in Kenya’s central region around Nyahururu, its waters serve as an essential resource for local residents, providing water for agriculture, cattle, and daily activities. The lake is also home to an array of wildlife, which includes a giant population of hippos and over 300 species of birds.

The area was silent as we watched the lake from its green-grassed banks, where some sheep were grazing. After some hesitations on my side, we got in a little wooden boat, expertly paddled by its driver, and slid softly across the shallow waters. The view was wonderful: the far-off Aberdare mountains rising majestically into the cloudy heights. One could readily see a vibrant, dispersed settlement at the base of the mountain range. Every so often as we sailed, we would stop to search the reeds for the elusive hippos who live in this lake.

Although the hippos remained shy that afternoon, the boat ride was filled with laughter, storytelling, and an appreciation of the deep connection between the Jewish community of Kasuku and the natural environment that surrounds them. It dawned on me how their proximity to the natural world reflected the agricultural lifestyle of ancient Israel—a reminder that Jewish life, wherever it thrives, stays closely tied to the land and its blessings. To attract visitors to their community, Moshe said they are considering putting on their tourism cap to do things differently.

“If we can organize an online platform where we can show people what they can do for fun if they come to Kasuku, then we can attract international visitors. And if they’re Jewish, then we would be more than pleased to host them in our synagogue.”

Of course, looking inward and presenting things differently in attractive ways can guarantee positive outcomes. Many travelers experience tremendous fulfillment when their trips are intertwined with adventures and tourism. There are multiple things to do in and around Lake Olbolossat, according to Moshe, that would give visitors worthwhile, unimaginable fun. But however, the need to prioritize some forms of marine conservation was brought forward, which considered the timely removal of plastic bottles around the vicinity of the lake. Nevertheless, due to the distance to the city center, if there is hope for industrial recycling, they would be required to gather it up in a collection spot before moving the collected waste plastics to recyclers. Then, as the sun dipped lower behind the hills, we returned to the community, refreshed by the experience, and for me—ready to continue my exit out of Kenya the following day.

Traveling in the capacity of the general secretary of SAJA, a pan-African Jewish alliance formed some two and a half years ago, I had some unresolved matters to address. In Abidjan, the capital of Côte d’Ivoire, we established the Sub-Saharan African Jewish Alliance, which initially consisted of 10 nations. Subsequent to its establishment, nations such as Zambia, Gabon, and Congo have formally joined the alliance, which aims to clearly unite and help in rebuilding Jewish communities across the continent. With the exception of Kenya, one of the Alliance’s initial founding members, practically every member nation has benefited from the Gelfand Award for Food Security, which is one of SAJA’s ongoing agricultural project grants.

The unfortunate situation stems from weak leadership in the country, which appears unwilling to engage a significant population of Black Kenyan Jews. The alliance’s formation aimed to foster unity among various communities and facilitate borderless online communication throughout the continent. Therefore, meeting with over 50 members of the Kehillat Israel Synagogue, who have excellent potential for growth and expansion, provided an opportunity to formally educate them about the SAJ Alliance. At the end of the discussion, they enthusiastically embraced the alliance, securing their rightful position as Kenyan SAJA-affiliated communities. Everyone expressed hope as they became part of the Sub-Saharan African Jewish Alliance (SAJA) family. No doubt, with the guarantee of continued support, including grants for food security, Jewish education, and community development, their Kenyan voices will grow louder, stronger, and more radiant on the African Jewish stage.

Just like the community in Kasuku, the Elburgon Jews, a small town perched amid the rolling hills and forest of the rift valley in the Molo municipality, also took their spot on the SAJA membership. Eventually, they became the second Jewish community, deeply rooted in their mountainous environment, to join the expanding Pan-African Jewish alliance. Upon my arrival at their community, the Elburgon Jews greeted me with warmth, and we shared matzah along with a meal of potatoes and maize, complemented by freshly prepared boiled milk from their cows.

Before leaving the following day, the younger members took me on a hike up the highest peak surrounding their community. The climb was steep and invigorating, offering sweeping vistas of meandering green hills, fertile farms, and distant forested hills. Midway, we explored a hidden cave in the hillside— a place of wonder and history. The area surrounding the rift valley remains fertile, just as it was several decades ago when one of Rothschild’s daughters farmed this land long before Kenya gained independence.

While in Elburgon, I learned so much about the nearby Nakuru, a historic town with some rich Jewish history. Although I didn’t travel to Nakuru again for further exploration, I instead headed towards the border at Malaba, postponing that visit for another trip. Most importantly, I gathered stories that illuminated Kenya’s Jewish past. Nakuru is home to the famous 1956 synagogue and a nearby Jewish cemetery, where European Jewish refugees— survivors of war and displacement— once found safety. These two important Jewish monuments are truly a reminder of the global journeys that have intertwined Jewish lives with African lands.

It is particularly noteworthy that Gustav Kramer, a German Jew who arrived as a refugee in 1938, rapidly ascended to prominence and was elected mayor of Nakuru in 1955, during which he laid the foundation stone for the Nakuru synagogue. In 1941, the congregation formed and held prayers in private homes before constructing a proper synagogue in 1956. But while all this has become history, the shadow of the once thriving Nakuru Jewish community still lives on after its synagogue building was sold and the proceeds handed to the Nairobi Synagogue.

Ultimately, after my enriching time in Kenya, I journey westward to Eldoret and towards the Malaba border crossing into Uganda. This Pesach journey revealed to me more than just breathtaking landscapes and inspiring communities. Passover in Kenya’s highlands brought to mind that Judaism is alive in Africa— not only in numbers but in heart. From mountain peaks to valley lakes, from Shabbat candles and seders in Kasuku to isolated farmers in Elburgon, our people continue to sanctify time and pass the torch onward. The journey continues— upward, forward, and always toward freedom.

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