THE UBIQUITY of plastic pollution has precipitated a global environmental crisis. According to the United Nations Environment Programme, approximately 2,000 garbage trucks’ worth of plastic waste are discharged into oceans, rivers, and lakes every day. This alarming phenomenon—often overlooked by key stakeholders—continues to accelerate ecosystem degradation, endanger aquatic life, and undermine human livelihoods. Each year, an estimated 19 to 23 million tons of plastic waste enter aquatic ecosystems, destroying habitats and disrupting natural processes.

Though often treated as a separate issue, plastic pollution deeply intertwines with other environmental crises, such as climate change and resource depletion. As we recognize the vast scale of this problem, we see the need for both systemic and grassroots responses. This is precisely why, on March 22, 2026, we witnessed the second annual Bedikat HaMayim, a global marine conservation initiative by Repair the Sea (Tikkun Hayam), a Florida-based nonprofit organization.

Bedikat HaMayim (Search the Water) is a powerful adaptation of the traditional Bedikat Chametz, a Passover command to purge leaven from homes. In this modern ritual, volunteer groups from several Jewish communities gather globally to cleanse bodies of water from plastic pollutants and other potential sources of aquatic pollution. This initiative, rooted in Jewish values, calls us to align spiritual practice with environmental stewardship.

When we incorporate the mission of Bedikat HaMayim into Jewish life, we align our spiritual values with environmental responsibility. We become part of a global movement rooted in care, repair, and restoration. It is Tikkun Olam in action—especially when we recognize that over 70% of the earth is covered by water. Bedikat HaMayim keeps the challenges facing our water bodies and marine life present in our collective consciousness, while offering ongoing opportunities for meaningful action grounded in Jewish principles.

In my view, marine conservation should matter to every Jew—perhaps as much as Tzedakah and Gemilut Hasadim. Water is not only a life force; it is foundational in the Torah—from the account of creation in Bereshit to the parting of the Red Sea. It is a sacred resource that sustains all life. Without it, humanity cannot exist.

I was once unaware of the deep connection between marine conservation, environmental stewardship, and the core tenets of my beliefs and practices as a Jew. That changed in 2024, when I was contacted by Avraham Ben Avraham to write about the debut of Reverse Tashlich in West Africa. Since then, I have closely followed the work of Tikkun HaYam (Repair the Sea), and I have come to see that caring for our waters is not separate from our faith—it is an expression of it.

The second annual Bedikat HaMayim, which took place on that Sunday, garnered volunteers and participants worldwide engaged in a pre-Pesach marine cleanup, and the impact was profound. The Kwania Jewish community in northern Uganda, participating for the first time, gathered on the shores of Lake Kwania, collecting 13 sacks of plastic waste that littered the pathway to the nearby lake. Alongside them, the Save the Nile Foundation on Buvuma Island rescued two nets of plastic bottles, adding to its growing stock waiting to be sorted and shipped off the island to recycling plants. The Elburgon Jewish community in Kenya uprooted some aquatic weeds from the Njane dam, a source of irrigation water for the mountain settlements, water for animals, and fish. In Nigeria, players from Maccabi FC Nigeria, along with students from the Gihon Eden Academy, carried out garbage removal from around Jabi Lake in the Abuja city center.

At the Atlantic coast in Southern Nigeria, we saw cleanup actions from the student team of Brachot Yeshiva, which recently renamed its computer lab after Tikkun Hayam’s Rabbi Ed Rosenthal. Additionally, in Ghana, volunteers organized a shoreline cleanup along the coast of Accra, while in Cameroon, a team from Beth Goshen gathered at the shores of the Yaoundé municipal lake, removing plastic buildup along its shores. In Uganda, besides Kwania and the Buvuma teams, a group in Mbale from the Namanyonyi community also contributed, clearing debris from the banks of Namatala River. Beyond Africa, volunteers also participated from America, Europe, Asia, and Australia, making the event a truly worldwide movement gaining traction with every stride.

Although Bedikat HaMayim made its debut just last year, it has already sparked a wave of participation across Africa, from West to East to Central Africa. This second annual event is quickly becoming a major global initiative of Repair the Sea. Its origins are rooted in volunteers who, after participating in Reverse Tashlich, called for more frequent cleanups rather than limiting them to just one annual event, specifically the primary pre-Rosh Hashanah Reverse Tashlich marine cleanup.

As a result, a sustained momentum has emerged: volunteers who once joined Reverse Tashlich are now embracing Bedikat HaMayim as a complementary, year-round practice. This evolution is fostering a deeper commitment to marine stewardship. By doing more throughout the year, we build a lasting global effort that is essential to tackling the growing plastic crisis, which threatens marine ecosystems and biodiversity.

The post Bedikat HaMayim: A Pre-Pesach Marine Cleanup Attracts Volunteers Across Africa. first appeared on African Jewish Voices.

BY THE TIME we stepped off the bus and concluded the last lap of the trip on motorbikes, there was not only a sigh of relief but a wave of jubilation by the members of our community who welcomed us home. After a long overnight journey from Mukono, we carried with us a precious bounty—enough matzot and locally made kosher wine to brighten our entire Passover. These rare festival supplies will let us celebrate the two Seder nights in abundance, and the joy we feel is beyond words.

But let me take you back to where it all began—the onward journey to source matzot and Passover supplies, approximately 295 kilometers from our base in northern Uganda. We had set off shortly after Havdalah at the conclusion of Shabbat, traveling from Kwania, passing through Lira, Kamdini, and Kampala, finally arriving in Mukono, in central Uganda. Mukono is home to two Jewish congregations: the Zion Beit Hamitzvot and the Mukono Orthodox Jewish Community. For several years now, Mukono has been a safe haven during Passover, the place we can always count on for securing matzot and wine.

When we arrived in Mukono by 8am, members of the Zion Beit Hamitzvot community gave us a warm and heartfelt welcome. Alongside me was a brother, Jeremiah Aliro, representing another community from Kwania. Together, we were greeted with smiles and open arms by the Mukono hosts, and soon we joined representatives from other parts of Uganda, including Mbale, Namutumba, and shuls in Western regions. After greetings and a brief catch-up with friends we haven’t seen for a while, we gathered together, and the matzah baking began.

As the matzah baking got underway, it unfolded under the watchful supervision of Sarah Nakintu. Although all present were seasoned bakers, Sarah ensured the process ran smoothly. The venue was bustling, with two distinct mixing sections where groups worked side by side to knead the dough. Once mixed, the shaped dough moved to two different baking areas: one equipped with two industrial ovens and the other a traditional wood-fired fireplace. Sarah moved gracefully between the sections, ensuring every step adhered to the halakha—that all was completed within 18 minutes. There was a clear division of labor: some mixed the dough, others shaped the pieces, and a dedicated team of boys and women carefully placed each piece into the ovens and fire pans, respectively, ensuring every step was organized and swift.

The aroma of baking filled the air, and a spirit of unity swept through the room. Jeremiah Aliro looked around at the gathered bakers and said, “In this moment, we are not just baking matzah; we are singing the song of our ancestors, building a home where tradition meets hope.

I took a few moments away from the baking room to watch how Sarah was making the wine. She was by the fireplace, washing the berries carefully with water. Once they were clean, she placed them into a large pot that sat over the open flame. As the berries boiled, their juice began to mix with the water. After a while, she would separate the solids from the liquid, leaving behind a rich, fragrant base. Watching her, I realized how each step was filled with quiet care, turning simple berries into something truly special.

At the end of the first day, a significant amount of work had been done. After a hearty evening meal and the Ma’ariv prayer, some rested while others kept baking late into the night. The next morning, after Shacharit and breakfast, we returned to the ovens, baking all day until evening. By the end of the second day, there’s a large supply of matzah and wine to go around.

Rabbi Moshe was present during the baking, moving quietly through the room to ensure every step followed halakha. He observed as the bakers mixed, shaped, and baked the matzah, his presence a source of comfort and focus. By the end of the day, he smiled, satisfied with the dedication and the abundance of matzah. Before departing, he offered his blessings, encouraging us all to carry this spirit of unity into the Passover celebration.

Once the matzah and wine were ready for distribution, those of us from Kwania gathered what was allocated to us. Each community received equal portions—matzah, wine, and some amount of cash for their Seder. We especially knew that those coming from the farthest—like us in Kwania—had the longest journey. We left Mukono at 3 p.m. that afternoon, arriving in Kampala by 6:30 PM due to heavy traffic. After waiting for the bus to fill, we finally departed Kampala at 10 p.m. Then we traveled through the night to Lira, arriving home at 5:26 a.m. It was a long, tiring journey; thankful to Hashem for a safe journey; and ready to prepare for the Seder.

In the spirit of Passover, we, the members of the Kwania Jewish Community, want to express our deepest gratitude to Kulanu, whose generous support made this entire journey possible. From covering the transportation expenses for all the other representatives of the 29 communities who traveled to Mukono to providing matzah, wine, and cash stipends, every detail was covered by their vision and commitment. This is why the Matzah Baking was so special—it was part of the Kulanu Passover Challenge, a worldwide fundraising effort that unites Jews from across the globe. Through this effort, contributions provided vital supplies for communities in more than 30 countries. In total, we baked 3,780 matzot under two days of matzah baking in Mukono. These numbers remind us of the abundance we achieved together, and with Kulanu’s support, we know this effort will continue to grow each year.

In conclusion, as I reflect on this journey, I realize how much it has changed me. I have been a regular traveler to Mukono over the years, always returning for this vital pre-Pesach event. Last year, and the year before, I came, but this time, the progress was undeniable. The coordination was smoother, the matzah finer and branded, and the wine richer. With Kulanu’s help and these communities’ dedication, I know we’ll see even more growth each year. There is a real hope that, as the years go by, the matzah, the wine, and every detail will rise to even greater heights, becoming a true standard for us all.

The post Matzah, Wine, and Hope: A Journey from Kwania to Mukono. first appeared on African Jewish Voices.

On October 27th, it was a quiet Monday evening in the WhatsApp group of Gihon Hebrew Synagogue. A post notification popped up, with the new week’s parashah appearing on the top of the screen: Parashah Lech Lecha (Genesis 12:1-17:27). Haftara (Isaiah 40:27-41:16)

Beneath it, a list of aliyot unfolds—rishon, sheni, shilishi, revi’i, chamishi: some of the lines bearing a phone number, a name, a contributed amount, and a small green checkmark, showing payment received. Within minutes, the chat lights up as the synagogue members, in response to the call to indicate interest for any of the aliyot, begin to bid and claim their Torah honors for the coming Shabbat. Already, one Yosef had chosen petach, while the Hagbaáh spot was claimed by Tehilah bat Yoshyah. Another woman bids for Gelilat, indicating a male who had volunteered to stand in for her.

From my base in faraway East Africa, I bid interest for the 4th aliya (rivi’í) and confirmed it by sending a screenshot of payment successfully made. By Friday morning, every slot has been taken and recorded. What once required in-person coordination at the synagogue now happens seamlessly through mobile messages. A sacred practice of selecting who will ascend to the Torah has now been upgraded into the language of modern connectivity in this digital age, allowing members to participate in the Torah service irrespective of their present location.

From its earliest days, Gihon has called itself a synagogue of the people. Founded in the 1990s, it is one of the oldest mainstream Jewish congregations in the country. In contrast to numerous Nigerian synagogues that are established and headed by an individual or groups, Gihon has flourished thanks to the consistent generosity of those who pray within its walls.

Basically, the offerings realized by being called to the Torah—and the tzadaka, as well as other charity contributions—have long sustained the community. These contributions power the synagogue’s daily life: keeping the lights on, maintaining the sanctuary, and supporting Shabbat and festival observances such as meals, challah, religious materials, and symbolic food. Members are aware that each contribution, however small, helps sustain the house of prayer they call home.

For several years, Gihon’s stability and reputation have drawn wider recognition. And due to its long-standing presence in Nigeria’s capital, it has not only been visited by many foreigners but also attracted support from Jewish and Israeli organizations in the country. Through this network of goodwill, the synagogue has been able to undertake major community projects—including its kiddush hall, guest room, and kitchen space. Its perimeter fencing and water borehole were also built through donations from a well-wisher through the Chabad centre in Abuja and community support.

Furthermore, it’s notable that inclusivity has always defined the community. Women, too, have long participated in the aliyah allotment. Under Orthodox custom, a male congregant ascends the bimah on their behalf, yet the woman’s Hebrew name is pronounced during the blessing, ensuring her spiritual presence is honored. Hence, clearly, the WhatsApp Aliyah system that Gihon now employs simply continues this tradition of openness and shared responsibility—preserving the synagogue’s communal spirit while it gracefully transitioned into the digital age.

Prior to leveraging the WhatsApp mobile application to transform the ritual, aliyot bidding at Gihon was scheduled for moments before the Torah service. As the scroll rested on the bimah, congregants would raise pledges aloud in a lively, if sometimes hurried, exchange. Others, knowing they might be absent, reach out to the gabbai a day or two earlier to reserve a slot.

It was an authentic, spirited procedure, but also a bit messy, especially when some members were absent or showed up late to the synagogue. The system favored those physically present, left little room for certainty in filling up the list of aliyot on time, and created occasional overlap in pledges. The record keeping was manual, sometimes plagued by unforeseeable delays in fulfilling payment, and for members abroad, impossible.

However, the limitations of an on-site system became clear as Gihon’s network of friends and families expanded across the country and as the recent astronomical rise in inflation due to the removal of subsidies in petroleum caused transportation expenses to the shul to soar beyond the reach of a few. The desire to preserve transparency, ensure order and flexibility, enable instant payment to secure aliyot slots, and promote inclusion gave rise to an idea that would transform not just logistics but the very meaning of connection.

The WhatsApp Model, a repetitive weekly protocol, usually resets after each Shabbat. Once the candles have been extinguished and the community rested, the gabbai, beginning on Tuesday morning, posts a message announcing the week’s parashah. The message lists the Torah portion, the haftarah, and all aliyah categories, including other synagogue honors such as petach, hagba’ah, gelilat, and tzdaka.

Members reply directly in the group chat or message the coordinator privately to claim their aliyah. Payments are made through bank transfer to the synagogue bank account indicated, and receipts are shared as screenshots. The post is then updated with verification marks indicating confirmed pledges. A simple reminder reads: It’s important to note that aliyot isn’t given on pledge but payment; payment confers the allotment.

Without doubt, the process is fully transparent: everyone can see which aliya has been taken, by whom, and at what bidding entry level. Now, just imagine how a few minutes of online interaction replace the once-hectic and mostly uncertain allotment moments that occurred before Torah reading. More importantly, the new system opens the doors of the bimah to members far beyond Abuja.

“Even though I have recently relocated to Port Harcourt (Southern Nigeria, about 690 km from Abuja), I am still a member of Gihon in my innermost heart, as always. I will continue to support the running of the synagogue, which has been important to me. It has helped shape my spiritual life, serving as both a place of worship and a centre for learning. I understand that this is one of the ways I can contribute to getting things up and running; I will continue to participate in bidding for aliyot from a distance and sending in my payment and donations.”

Just like ima Keleyah in Port Harcourt, I too, for the first time, participated from a distance outside Nigeria. I was in Uganda. That week, I saw the message for Parashat Lech Lecha, sent in the Gihon WhatsApp group. Without hesitation, I placed my bid for an aliyah, made the payment through mobile transfer, and sent my receipt. When Shabbat arrived, a brother in the congregation ascended the bimah in my stead. The reader called my Hebrew name in the blessing, and the congregation responded, “Amen.”

Though I was thousands of miles away, I felt the warmth of belonging. The words of Torah read in Abuja reached me across borders; my small contribution kept the synagogue alive while keeping my spirit anchored.

Since then, I have also joined from Kenya, getting the Aliya Rishon spot for the week of Parashat Vayeitzei. Each time, the experience reaffirms that distance cannot diminish devotion. This digital bridge allows me to stay connected to the vibrant Gihon community as a friend and well-wisher, actively participating in its ongoing activities back home.

In the WhatsApp bidding system, everyone has a share. Both men and women participate, families make joint pledges, and younger members, accustomed to digital interaction, have taken on a new level of engagement. Every contribution made, however small, supports the synagogue’s daily needs, which comprise fuel for the generator, electricity bills, support for festival meals, as well as bread and wine for kiddush. That shared understanding keeps the flame of collective responsibility burning. The digital chat has effectively become a new courtyard for the synagogue, serving as a typical virtual space where generosity and faith meet, with certainty also guaranteed.

“In the old method, people bid for aliya and are allowed to ascend the bimah without prepayment, in the hope that these pledges would be redeemed later, maybe within the new week. However, there was no mandatory deadline for making these payments. Therefore, the system was flawed to an extent, especially when some unfortunately failed to meet with their payment on time.” This was according to Shlomo Yaakov, a senior chazan, making comparisons between then and now.

From a broader perspective, this is a way of opening the door to a global opportunity. Through this digital system, anyone in the world can now willingly contribute to sustaining the spiritual growth of Gihon Hebrew Synagogue in the capital of Africa’s most populous nation. Whether one lives in South Africa, New York, or Tel Aviv, it takes only a few taps to bid for an aliyah, send the offering, and have one’s name blessed from Gihon’s bimah.

The spiritual connection is real: the Torah blessing spoken in Abuja mentions the name, and the congregation answers “Amen,” linking the giver’s intent with the community’s response. In many large synagogues abroad, obtaining an aliyah can be difficult because of the sheer number of congregants competing for limited honors. At Gihon, the model of this digital procedure guarantees access and an level playing ground, ensuring room for participation to share in the blessing.

For those seeking both a spiritual merit and a tangible way to strengthen African Judaism, this initiative offers a unique path. It doesn’t just democratize a sacred ritual but also decentralizes it and turns it into a channel of global participation.

The transition from ‘brick and mortar’ to an online platform has demonstrated the effectiveness of the WhatsApp model in addressing some of the issues presented by the previous approach. Management can draw inspiration from this, then iterate and expand beyond WhatsApp, perhaps utilizing their synagogue website or a dedicated app that would automate parts of the process. A secured payment gateway with multiple options is paramount, as well as real-time updates or even an AI assistant that can send simple, heartfelt thank-you notes automatically.

Beyond aliyah allotment, the Gihon WhatsApp community has become a digital hub for African Torah life, connecting different WhatsApp groups and creating a network of shared learning and support. The same system that now manages aliyot can also integrate the Gihon Eden Academy (a mini-Hebrew class) and even drive cross-community communication, allowing Jews nationwide and beyond to be part of the system.

Standing now for over 30 years, Gihon has continued to hold the status of being a community-owned house of prayer. Its openness and freedom of expression among members have helped it grow into one of the largest congregations in town. Its devotion is fervent, and even without a physical rabbi in their midst, the love and practice of Judaism are things many have admired and can attest to.

The community is guided by a group of elders and its founding fathers, who recognize the innovative mindset that their youthful generation brings to the table, striving to identify better ways to grow together in strength and purpose. Gihon’s experiment is part of a larger wave reshaping Jewish life on the continent as we see communities turning to digital tools for education, communication, and worship.

Technology, once viewed by some as a threat to tradition, has become its ally. How fascinating to see Gihon stand at the forefront of this digital revolution. Its aliyah system proves that innovation need not dilute faith; it can deepen it, preserving the Jewish heritage while mastering modernity.

The post Aliyah in the Digital Age: The Gihon Hebrew Synagogue Model first appeared on African Jewish Voices.

The values and beliefs instilled in children during their early years tend to stick with them, often time influencing their perspectives and decisions later in life. A popular saying in the proverbs states that if you teach a child the right thing to do, those lessons will stick with them as they grow. In the case of pioneering marine conservation in early education curriculum, it is of utmost importance to ensure that the core values of our joint efforts of marine conservation are incorporated into the early years of learning.

No child could be any happier than the students of Brachot Yeshiva on Wednesday, 18th March 2026, as the Brachot Yeshiva Primary and Secondary School officially renamed their computer lab after Rabbi Ed Rosenthal, the founder of Tikkun Hayam (Repair the Sea). Their joy could be felt, and their smiles were infectious as they chanted, “Welcome to Rabbi Ed Rosenthal Computer Lab, Shalom,” shortly after the official naming ceremony. The school, with over a hundred students, happens to be the only Jewish-owned school in the oil-rich state, located a few kilometers from Beth Ha’arachman Hebrew Community.

The naming of the computer lab, in relation to a man whose mission is fixated on the environmental stewardship of repairing the sea and water bodies, is what caught my interest. Since 2024, when Reverse Tashlich debuted in West Africa, I have followed subsequent cleanups and monitored its spread as more teams around the world embraced the concepts, which these young Brachot Yeshiva students have been part of from the onset. In 2025, the Bedikat Hamayim pre-Pesach global cleanup was introduced, which also saw a team from the school in action alongside members of Beth Ha’arachman.

However, this year, the school registered for the Bedikat HaMayim as an independent cleanup team due to increased interest in marine conservation principles, following two active years of taking part in the global cleanup exercise. Previously, only a handful of students participated alongside adults from the Jewish community, while the majority of students only heard stories about the periodic cleanup outings that took place along the Atlantic Ocean at the popular Ibeno Beach in Southern Nigeria. This year, a large group of students stormed the beachfront—a trip that lasted more than 90 minutes, setting off from the school for a coastal excursion, a lecture, and the cleanup exercise.

The events begun about three days ago with the naming of the computer lab after Rabbi Ed. The act was done in good faith so that the children would feel connected to the global community of environmental stewards that are working to make the ocean and the water bodies less polluted by debris, especially plastics. The computer lab, with just three sets of desktop computers serving over a hundred students, only facilitated lessons such as basic computer education, like typing and other simple computer application design programs. By upgrading the lab and making it internet-connected, students can see and observe the global spread of the marine conservation activities that they are embarking upon in their local surroundings. In addition to sourcing more information about marine conservation, they would be connected to this shared mission with the rest of the teams that are part of Repairing the World.

Joining the rest of the world to mark the second annual edition of Bedikat Hamayim, the students received a lecture given by Emmanuel Yerimyahu, leader of the Beth Ha’arachman community. Upon arriving at the beachfront, numbering over 60 students, the majority of them were astonished for the first time ever to see the mighty waters of the Atlantic stretching endlessly into the horizon, as far as the eyes could see. After taking a group photo in front of the ocean, there was a moment of playing and laughter as they dipped their feet into the shallow waves sweeping along the coastline. Thereafter, they were seated under a canopy and received lectures about the ocean and the dangers of plastics if allowed to enter the water. The lessons focused on the negative outcomes of things that plastics can do to aquatic life, as well as to humans in the long run, and why removing and preventing plastic waste from entering the water bodies saves and makes the world a better place.

Then, when it was time for action, a team of 12 students, including two adult supervisors, went into action, picking up plastic bottles that littered the sand in front of the ocean. The team were dressed in reflectors, wore helmets to protect themselves from the sun, and used nose masks while gathering about 500 bottles by the end of the day. The team transported the collected plastics and the empty soda bottles they had used as refreshments during the lectures back to the temporary plastic dump site in the Shehechayanu yard of the Beth Ha’arachman community.

Reactions from Benjamin Ben Avraham, one of the teachers in Brachot Yeshiva, captured the excitement in the students at the end of the day. He emphasized that the day, coinciding with World Water Day on March 22nd, drove home the message and heightened the significance of water safety, urging humans to actively participate in increasing marine conservation activities. Furthermore, concerning the Wi-Fi 4G device donation by the Avraham Ben Avraham Foundation during the naming of the Brachot Yeshiva computer lab, Benjamin made some additional appeal.

“Avraham has been a long-time member of the community and a strong supporter of the school, and we are grateful for the upgrade of the computer lab to being internet-connected. However, we appeal for some additional computer systems to cater to more students, as well as a work upgrade in the existing ones to make them browsing-compatible, as what we have now lacks that feature. Assistance will also be needed in the area of browsing data and petrol to run the lab, which is currently powered by a petrol generator, as there is no electricity connection in the school.”‘

In conclusion, this series of events not only honored the legacy of Rabbi Ed Rosenthal but also ignited a spark in the students, connecting them to a global movement of ocean stewardship. From the dedication of the computer lab to the hands-on cleanup at Ibeno Beach, these young minds have experienced firsthand the power of action and the importance of protecting our environment. With continued support and dedication, they are not just learning—they are leading the way toward a cleaner, more sustainable future.

The post Brachot Yeshiva Renames Its Computer Lab After Tikkun Hayam’s Rabbi Ed Rosenthal. first appeared on African Jewish Voices.

On the 6th of Tevet, 5786, the Jewish community of Mukono, which comprises Tzion Beth Hamitzvot and the other Orthodox community in the area, gathered in solemn remembrance to mark the first yahrzeit (annual memorial) of their spiritual father and teacher, Nehemiah Bamutiire Ben Avraham. His passing left a deep void in the hearts of the faithful, yet his life remains a guiding light for the community he nurtured.

Jewish tradition teaches that after death, the soul ascends through stages of judgment and elevation, marked after seven days, thirty days, and one year—or eleven months, according to Sephardic custom. In the same way, the living go through different stages of sorrow, praying and saying Kaddish to bring the soul of the dead person closer to God’s light. The first yahrzeit of Nehemiah was therefore not only a time of sorrow but also a sacred moment of reflection, prayer, and recommitment to the values he lived by.

The memorial service unfolded as a deeply spiritual and emotional gathering. It began on Friday evening with a special Kabbalat Shabbat dedicated to his memory, during which prayers, Psalms, and words of reflection were offered for the elevation of his soul. The commemoration continued the following morning with a high-spirited Shacharit service filled with song and devotion. In a moving tribute, some of his children led parts of the prayers themselves, standing before the congregation in honor of their father. Their participation transformed the service into a powerful moment of continuity, symbolizing that his legacy of faith and leadership lives on through the next generation.

Nehemiah was a central pillar of Jewish life in Mukono, a populated town at the outskirts of Kampala, the capital. Though the Tzion Beth Hamitzvot Synagogue, which he originally founded, did not originate from Eastern Uganda, the historic cradle of Abayudaya Jews, it emerged under his leadership in the early 2000s through a unique spiritual journey. Formerly a Christian pastor, he encountered Judaism through the words of an invited Israeli speaker during a church crusade. That moment sparked a lifelong quest for truth. With a small group of followers, they left the church, began studying Jewish teachings, initially within a Messianic framework, and over time embraced Rabbinic Judaism fully. Their journey culminated in recognized Beit Dien conversions and the establishment of a community grounded in Orthodox Sephardic Jewish practice.

As a leader, Nehemiah was known not only for his devotion to Torah but also for the character he instilled in his people. Love, integrity, respect, and unity were the foundations upon which Mukono Jewry was built. He labored tirelessly to foster peace and cooperation between the two Jewish communities in Mukono and throughout the country, believing that unity among Jews was itself a sacred act. His emphasis on a Hebrew-praying community ensured that a great percent of the youth population, especially the males, knew how to read Ivrit. Even after his passing, his example is still encouraging renewed efforts toward sustainable collaboration and mutual support, in honor (l’kavod) of his work.

His passing followed a long and difficult struggle with illness. A few years earlier, he had miraculously survived a serious brain condition in which blood entered his brain, a situation that many in the community viewed as an act of divine intervention. In the period leading up to his death, however, his health steadily weakened, and after enduring much suffering, he eventually returned his soul to its Creator. Baruch Dayan HaEmet.

He is survived by his wife, Nanyonga Beis, and eight children. While some members of the community have stepped forward to assist with their education and welfare, there remain significant gaps in support. Their situation serves as a reminder that honoring a leader’s legacy is not only done through words and prayers but also through acts of responsibility and compassion toward the family he left behind. Most of the grown-up males are in school, and the youngest is about two years old.

Bamutiire’s life was a journey of faith, courage, and transformation. From seeker to teacher, from pastor to rabbinic Jew, and from individual believer to community builder, his path reflects the power of sincere devotion to truth. As his community marks his yahrzeit, they do so with the resolve to carry forward his mission—to walk in the light of Torah, to stand together in unity, and to ensure that his legacy continues to shape Jewish life in Mukono for generations to come.

The post Honoring the Life and Legacy of Nehemiah Bamutiire, Father and Founder. first appeared on African Jewish Voices.

EDUCATION has transcended beyond the walls of the classroom. While its power as a transformative tool remains undiminished, its evolution has presented a dual reality: vast new opportunities alongside options of flexible directions. The essence of education has not changed, but its compounding effect—when applied across disciplines and contexts—has produced outcomes that are both remarkable and far-reaching. Today, being able to use available knowledge is not only a strategic move; it’s a powerful way of applying multiple forms of understanding simultaneously to achieve timely and practical results.

True education embodies a vast range of knowledge, which is tailored to every facet of human endeavor. This knowledge—the very components of education—provides the essential framework for solving countless underlying societal issues. The essence of true education lies in cultivating the ability to identify a challenge, understand the required response, and implement solutions that transform chaos into purposeful, favorable patterns.

History consistently demonstrates that many of humanity’s most pressing problems already have workable solutions. This reality makes it unnecessary to perpetually seek entirely new approaches or attempt to reinvent the wheel. As the saying goes, there is “nothing new under the sun.” The smart way to go forward is to look at the success pathways of others, figure out what worked for them, and then carefully adapt and copy those techniques, which have been shown to make a real difference.

The journey to success, whether beginning from scratch or from a midway point, is invariably defined by time and deliberate action. Moving from one’s present reality to a desired future requires an honest understanding of the current position at any given moment. A lot of the time, we are where we are now because of what we’ve done in the past, and the decisions we make now will affect what happens in the future.

This understanding is very important for African Jews, especially those who live in Sub-Saharan Africa. It is not enough to admire Jewish communities in other parts of the world or hope to mirror their achievements without doing the work first. There is still a big divide between African Jewish communities and those in more developed locations. This gap includes things like economic empowerment, organized community settlements, established synagogues, access to Jewish education, and representation in important aspects of the secular world. There is, undeniably, significant ground to cover.

Nevertheless, it is an optimistic and clear truth that these diaspora communities, which are currently doing well, were formerly weak and unstable. Through sheer determination, they organized, invoked deep reservoirs of knowledge—both sacred and secular—and ultimately steered their collective destiny forward. Their journey from being limited to having an impact is a strong example.

The strategic use of various forms of education for African Jewry must now be channelled into concrete, transformative pillars. This means focusing on certain areas where information is the main driver of long-term progress and self-determination. Let me take you through the following areas, which represent not mere aspirations, but actionable frameworks for building a resilient and prosperous future for many indigenous African Jewish populations.

Education is essential for the training and ordination of African rabbis who can serve, lead, and advocate for their communities. In Judaism, having a rabbi is required in every community, as their role as spiritual leader is a fundamental part. Unfortunately, most African Jewish communities rely on visiting rabbis or online external guidance, which, while helpful, cannot fully replace locally grounded face-to-face leadership and guidance. Through structured rabbinic education— combining Torah study, halachic training, pastoral care, and community administration— African Jews can raise rabbis who understand both Jewish law and the lived realities of their people. Education ensures that leadership is not only learned but also sustained from within.

When African rabbis are educated and ordained, they become an important part of the community and its history. They ultimately fill in the gap of what has been an endless vacuum over a couple of decades. Just like other professions, trained rabbis are equipped to teach, resolve religious questions, guide youth, and engage government and international Jewish institutions with confidence. It’s a position that requires maximum community service. and the ability to help others. Additionally, these leaders command authority and safeguard authenticity by preserving traditions and adapting them responsibly to local and modern contexts. Education gives rabbis the tools they need to speak up for the needs of their communities, build collaborations, and inspire togetherness. The result is a strong foundation for spiritual growth and institutional stability in African Jewish communities. All of these are not rocket science, but a path many have followed and many are still following.

Understanding the importance of local rabbis should lead to increased efforts to identify ways to direct individuals toward this goal. Having an African-born and ordained rabbi is far more than having a religious functionary; he or she is not only a spiritual head but also a pivotal community architect and advocate. Another crucial point is the fact that such leaders can represent their communities with authority in global Jewish dialogues, make pleas to secure essential resources, and guide congregants with a resonant, authentic voice. By adapting the successful models of rabbinic training from the global diaspora to local realities, we ensure spiritual guidance is both deeply rooted and forward-looking. This helps us become less dependent on outside leaders and builds a strong, self-sufficient religious infrastructure that can support Jewish identity for generations to come.

In the field of agriculture, it is crucial to apply both ancient and modern wisdom. This is because food security has remained a critical concern for many African Jewish communities, especially those in rural settlements. Our agricultural heritage, embodied in laws like the sabbatical year (Shmita) and historical farming practices, provides a timeless framework for sustainable land stewardship. Teaching our communities these ideas along with modern agro-science gives us a powerful set of tools.

Through learning modern farming techniques—such as crop rotation, soil improvement, irrigation systems, and climate smart practices—communities can increase yields and reduce vulnerability to weather changes. Agricultural education transforms farming from a survival-based activity into a structured and productive system capable of feeding families and supporting economic independence.

Beyond the field, education unlocks access to technology and capital. Training community members to draft compelling grant proposals can secure funding. With proper training, communities can adopt technologies such as solar-powered irrigation and water management systems. When knowledge, technology, and planning are combined, food security becomes achievable, dignified, and scalable, ensuring long-term resilience for African Jewish households.

These results can be seen in the ongoing food security grants to members affiliated with the Sub-Saharan African Jewish Alliance, SAJA. This association, formed over three years ago, was established to unite African Jewry and assist in rebuilding their communities. In an unprecedented move, the organization has been able to secure agricultural grants for more than 31 communities across 10 countries. To get the grants, the communities had to join SAJA for free and write a proposal explaining what project they would do with the money, showing their plans and how they would manage the project until the harvest and its finances.

Economic development and participation in key sectors is a new mentality that needs to be grown with everything in our arsenals. All through history, Jewish communities across the world have used education to identify practical opportunities and went ahead to propose solution in adequate measures. By acquiring special knowledge in business, finance, and management, they positioned themselves in sectors that drive nationwide economic growth. Education enabled them to match community needs with market solutions, creating wealth not only for individuals but also for communal institutions such as schools, synagogues, tech companies, and welfare programs.

We must groom a generation that understands not only how to run a business but also how to identify and fill crucial gaps in the marketplace, transforming community needs into viable, scalable enterprises. Jewish communities in Africa can draw important lessons from the pages of history. While many communities remain in rural areas, education can prepare individuals to participate in urban economies and national markets. Learning entrepreneurship, financial literacy, and vocational skills creates pathways into commerce, manufacturing, and service industries. Strategic relocation or economic engagement in capital cities allows communities to generate sustainable income, reduce poverty, and fund long-term development initiatives.

It is undisputed that education facilitates a necessary shift from rural subsistence to urban economic participation. Through vocational training, financial education programs, and networking mentorship, community members can fulfil long dreams of relocating to capital cities and commercial hubs. Here, they can establish businesses, engage in large-scale commerce, and integrate into the formal economy. Emulating the global Jewish model of creating mutual-aid loan funds (gemachim) and robust business networks can provide the essential seed capital and mentorship to launch more endeavors, creating a virtuous cycle of reinvestment and communal uplift.

Quality education must be inclusive, reaching men and women, children and adults alike. To make sure that both our boys and girls grow up to be knowledgeable Jews and exemplary citizens, we need to push for and build great Jewish day schools that offer a strong dual curriculum, with both secular academic excellence and deep religious study. These schools are the incubators for future professionals, thinkers, and community leaders.

Adult education is just as important. Many community members were denied formal schooling due to historical and economic constraints. Literacy programs, vocational training, and continuing education help adults gain confidence and participate more fully in economic, religious, and civic life. When education lasts a lifetime, communities gain more leaders, have less dependence, and have a sense of progress that lifts up every generation.

This dual-focused educational investment is the engine for penetrating and influencing key societal sectors. A young lady who has a good background in law and is guided by her Jewish principles can do great work while working for her community from inside powerful organizations. Educated community members can also leverage international opportunities, studying and working abroad to acquire skills and resources that they can repatriate. The idea is to establish a virtuous cycle in which education leads to opportunity, which then leads to more investment in the community’s intellectual and institutional capital.

Technology runs the modern world, and education is the key to being able to take part in it in a meaningful way. Imagine young African Jewish children learning coding, digital design, or problem-solving skills and developing a mobile application valued at over five million dollars? Such achievements are already happening globally. Education makes it possible for people to be creative, converting their curiosity into solutions that have actual effects on the economy and society. The capital and expertise generated from such a venture could revolutionize community infrastructure, fund schools, rebuild the welfare system, and support several Jewish-owned startups.

The possibilities go far beyond computer apps to include innovations in renewable energy, medical diagnostics, or fintech tailored primarily to the African continent. By leveraging online learning platforms, coding boot camps, and global tech networks, we can position our youth at the forefront of the digital economy. A single major success story might be a compelling example that motivates others and attracts funding support. Furthermore, technology education enables the global marketing of African Jewish creativity—whether through a world-best-selling digital novel, an online archive of unique traditions, a blockbuster documentary, or a consulting firm solving tech problems. These ventures share our voice with the world while creating sustainable revenue streams for communal rebuilding.

In conclusion, as has been emphasized throughout this article, almost nothing entirely new is being created on the surface of the earth today. Most new ideas, discoveries, and solutions that change the world don’t come out of nowhere. Instead, they come from carefully putting together ideas that are already out there, knowledge that has been tested, and real-world experience.

This reality places a tremendous responsibility on those called to leadership. It should be known that transformation—whether social, economic, or spiritual—does not happen by chance. It is driven by informed decisions. Leaders who understand how to connect ideas, interpret knowledge, and apply learning strategically are far better positioned to guide their communities toward progress.

A leader who lacks the capacity to combine existing ideas, resources, and opportunities may unintentionally hinder the growth of their community. Leadership is not defined solely by expertise in one area or by maintaining what already exists. True leadership lies in vision—the ability to look inward, to assess available tools, and to coordinate people and knowledge toward practical solutions. When leaders recognize where educational resources exist, how knowledge can be accessed, and how ideas can be applied locally, they place the future firmly within their hands.

Idealy, shaping tomorrow is a conscious act. It is the result of deliberate choices made today—choices guided by learning, insight, and responsibility. Through education, communities gain not only skills but also agency. They gain the power to decide, to direct their development, and to shape a future that is sustainable, dignified, and firmly grounded in both heritage and possibility.

The post Shaping The Future Through The Power Of Education. first appeared on African Jewish Voices.

THIS QUESTION resonates on a profound level, recalling two poignant incidents that underscore a broader, more urgent narrative about identity, aspiration, and the state of Jewish education in Africa, particularly Nigeria.

The first incident took place during a visit by Rabbi Howard Gorin and Jeff Lieberman to Port Harcourt, Rivers State. Gorin is known as one of the first American rabbis to travel deep into Jewish communities, including those in Uganda and Nigeria, while Leiberman is a documentarian. As they engaged with the vibrant Meir Elohim Community, an individual with a zeal but limited knowledge of Judaism introduced himself with a title that carries centuries of reverence: “Rabbi.” It was obvious that there is a lot of difference in opinion. However, it became clear during their interaction that this title had been adopted without grasping its weight, its history, or the depth of commitment it signifies. Leiberman later shared a photograph on Facebook that captured the poignancy of the moment: “Nigeria Rabbi on a bike.” While this story is tinged with humor, this snapshot reveals a startling sobering truth: how the absence of structured Jewish education leaves space for misconceptions, even exploitation, of sacred titles right here in Nigeria!

The second incident speaks of aspiration amid adversity. My mentor, Akeidah Fulcher Eze, took deliberate steps to pave a path for Prince Israel and me in a certain rabbinical institution. We were tasked with articulating, in writing, why we desired to become rabbis. I, as usual, poured my thoughts into that essay, crafting a piece that earned Fulcher’s admiration, even though the application ultimately did not come to fruition. Although this story contrasts sharply with the first, it is proof of the hunger for authentic engagement, a fervent pursuit of spiritual growth, and the painful barriers that exist for African Jews seeking formal rabbinical training.

These narratives shed light on a critical reality: a majority of global Jewish institutions have largely overlooked African Jewish communities. Clearly, the lack of accessible, quality Jewish education has led to a troubling dynamic where the title “Rabbi” risks being diluted while simultaneously extinguishing the dreams of those who genuinely wish to pass through the corridor of rabbinic service. Therefore, this is a call to action—a reminder that a rabbi is not merely a title one assumes but a scholar, a teacher, and a shepherd of their community, dedicated to the service of God and humanity.

In the broader Jewish tradition, a rabbi embodies rigorous study, leadership with morals, and is dedicated to tikkun olam (repairing the world). There is little doubt that partnerships that put education, mentorship, and resources first are important for this goal to come true in Africa. We need institutions willing to see the potential in every seeker, to nurture vocations, and to ensure the title “Rabbi” is honored as a symbol of profound responsibility, not a label taken lightly.

The stories of aspiration and misunderstanding compel us to bridge this gap, to invest in a future where African Jews can pursue their calling with dignity, knowledge, and the full support of the global Jewish family. It’s worrying how Jewish education and resources are in Africa, especially in Nigeria.

The widening gap in Jewish engagement in Africa is undeniably troubling to the extent that many Jewish communities, especially in Sub- Saharan Africa, apart from the Republic of South Africa, feel overlooked by foreign Jewish institutions. The lack of proper education and facilities not only hampers the growth of Judaism on the continent but also fuels misconceptions about the faith’s values. The notion that a rabbi’s title is “a mere title” any person can accord himself reflects a deeper issue of misunderstanding and disconnection, likely exacerbated by limited access to authentic teachings and standard facilities required to train up people to become rabbis.

Yet beyond the internal challenges of education and mentorship lies an equally formidable barrier: access. For many Africans aspiring to rabbinical training, the pathway is narrowed by complex giyur (conversion) standards, lineage considerations, and institutional criteria that—while rooted in the preservation of Jewish law and continuity—can feel exclusionary when applied without contextual sensitivity. These frameworks, though essential to safeguarding tradition, often operate without sufficient mechanisms for outreach or accommodation, reinforcing a perception of Judaism as inaccessible to sincere seekers. The result is a quiet loss: gifted minds and devoted hearts are turned away from yeshivot, depriving the global Jewish community of voices shaped by resilience, diversity, and lived faith.

Compounding this challenge is the often-overlooked role of visa bureaucracy. Recently, a couple of Nigerian Jews who were accepted into yeshivot in Israel—schools that saw their potential as future rabbis and were ready to help them study—had their journeys stopped not because they weren’t qualified, but because of decisions made by the embassy and strict immigration rules. These administrative barriers have quietly extinguished opportunities for future rabbis in a country that has sustained mainstream Jewish practice for over three decades without a single resident rabbi. Such moments expose a painful paradox: communities are encouraged to preserve Judaism, yet pathways to leadership formation remain obstructed. Until we address these systemic barriers with intention and compassion, the dream of nurturing homegrown African rabbis will remain vulnerable, teetering between aspiration and denial.

For over a decade and a half, two individuals from Nigeria’s Igbo Jewish communities have resided in Israel, and they are known to have been ordained as rabbis. Yet beyond their names, there is little information about their formal rabbinic status, congregations, ordination, or institutional affiliations. This prolonged lack of clarity has left a vacuum within Nigerian Jewish life. In response, many communities now turn to rabbis found on the internet for learning and spiritual consultation, while others look inward, conferring the title “rabbi” upon local Torah teachers who provide instructions, motivation, and communal leadership. In the eyes of many congregants, the functional roles appear indistinguishable: teaching Torah, guiding prayer, and offering moral direction. Thus, in the absence of an ordained rabbi, doing what seems necessary becomes normalized. Over time, the title is accepted by the individual, embraced by the community, and gradually sustained—until any capable Torah teacher may be addressed as “rabbi,” and the cycle continues.

A more troubling development has emerged alongside this trend: the reinterpretation of rabbinic authority through the lens of traditional Igbo social structures. In Igbo culture, elders called the Nze or Ndi Nze are highly respected. These titled men are custodians of moral order, interpreters of the laws of the land, and key figures in communal governance, often serving as a check on the authority of the Eze (king). The Nze, viewed as upright and spiritually elevated, have historically played a stabilizing role in Igbo civilization. Drawing from this parallel, some have begun advancing the concept of an “Nze-Rabbi”— a fusion of traditional Igbo leadership and Jewish religious authority.

Under this emerging narrative, an Nze-Rabbi is defined loosely as an elderly man, a synagogue leader, or a Torah teacher with a measure of knowledge and respect within the community. There is no need for yeshiva training or formal ordination; all that is needed is acceptance of the title by most people in the community. While this definition may appear pragmatic on the surface, it represents a fundamental misunderstanding of Judaism’s standards and procedures. In effect, the title of rabbi becomes a cultural adaptation rather than a religious qualification, detached from the rigorous scholarly process that defines rabbinic authority worldwide.

This approach is deeply flawed. It reflects not malice, but ignorance of how Judaism has historically preserved structure, continuity, and accountability. More concerning are the implications. If this logic were extended beyond Igbo communities, other ethnic groups in Nigeria could introduce parallel constructs—Obong-Rabbi, Emir-Rabbi, or similar titles—each shaped by local tradition rather than Jewish law. What begins as an attempt to solve the absence of rabbis would ultimately introduce greater confusion, inconsistency, and fragmentation. It is a classic case of placing a round peg in a square hole—addressing a real problem with a solution that creates even deeper structural challenges.

To really understand who a rabbi is, you have to look at history. The fact remains that the word “rabbi” doesn’t appear in the Tanach (Hebrew Bible). It came about later, during the post-Temple period, when Jewish life changed from sacrificial worship to study, law, and community leadership.

At first, “rabbi” was an honorific title given to learned teachers who showed exceptional mastery of the Torah and moral leadership. As Jewish communities grew and spread out, the need for standardization became increasingly evident. Formal institutions of learning were created, ordination processes were set up, and rabbinic authority became linked to rigorous study, mentorship, and communal accountability. This framework, while evolving, remains the basis of rabbinic legitimacy in the modern Jewish world.

A Glimpse of Hope from Uganda.

While a standardized rabbinic path based on rigorous education and ordination has been accepted by most of the Jewish world for a long time, Uganda offers a compelling example of how this model can be successfully adapted to local realities. Today, Uganda is home to a growing number of indigenous rabbis, many of whom have studied in yeshivot in the United States and Israel and gone on to receive formal ordination. Their travels indicate that a single, traditional campus-based structure doesn’t have to limit dedication to rabbinic training.

In practice, several alternatives, yet credible, pathways have emerged. Rabin Rivbin Asiimwe, currently a rabbinic Abayudaya student, combines structured online learning with periodic travel to Israel for in-person classes and mentorship. In the same way, a rabbinic student, Orah Avraham, in Mukono, central Uganda, is also enrolled in a U.S.-based yeshiva that offers a two-year online curriculum with homework, quizzes, and presentations. After this part is done, students go abroad to finish the rest of their course. These hybrid models maintain academic rigor while accommodating geographic and logistical constraints faced by African Jewish communities.

Uganda has a flourishing rabbinical council composed of ordained rabbis, yeshiva graduates, aspiring and rabbinic students, with representation across different regions of the country. This structure has a promising formation of a strong and credible beit din, capable of overseeing conversions and other communal religious responsibilities within recognized Jewish frameworks. With an increasing number of individuals committed to this path, Uganda is steadily building a sustainable future in which ordained and well-trained rabbis are consistently available to serve their communities.

The impact of this ecosystem extends beyond the present generation. The visibility of multiple rabbis—trained not only in Jewish law but also in leadership, pastoral care, and human relations—naturally inspires younger members of the community. Often, rabbinic families nurture future rabbis, creating continuity and depth within Ugandan Jewish life. Notably, Uganda now has rabbis trained through Orthodox, Conservative, and Reform yeshivot, reflecting a broad and inclusive engagement with global Jewish institutions.

Rabbi Shoshana Nambi of Mbale in Eastern Uganda is perhaps the best example of how well this teaching paradigm works. She went to Hebrew Union College (United States) and recently became the first black woman rabbi in Sub-Saharan Africa. Now she is an assistant rabbi at Congregation Beth Am in Los Angeles. The Union for Reform Judaism ordained her, and her journey is a major success that shows what can happen when African Jewish communities have access to mainstream educational paths. Uganda’s experience is, above all, a narrative of shaping the future through education, discipline, and adherence to globally recognized rabbinic standards.

A Vision for the Future.

In Uganda, as in Nigeria, it is still common for Torah-learned individuals to be affectionately addressed as “rabbi.” This practice is not unique to both countries alone and can be found in Jewish communities elsewhere. However, it is important to recognise the true significance of a Rabbi ( רבי ), which in Hebrew means “my teacher.” Within Jewish tradition, this title carries profound weight. It represents not merely academic accomplishment, but a lifelong responsibility to teach, guide, adjudicate, and uplift others in accordance with Torah values.

The scarcity of formal Jewish educational institutions and rabbinic training resources in Nigeria—and across much of Africa—has inadvertently contributed to misunderstandings about the role and responsibilities of a rabbi. Yet this reality should never serve as justification for lowering established standards. Instead, anyone who aspires to be called a rabbi should be encouraged and supported to pursue recognized and appropriate pathways of study and ordination.

To make such an outcome possible, well-wishers and stakeholders must invest intentionally in yeshivot, structured rabbinical training programs, and sustainable community learning centers. In this regard, working with Jewish schools and organizations abroad can be very helpful in making curricula, mentorship, and accreditation stronger.

Meeting these educational and spiritual needs sends a strong message: Judaism is a living, dynamic faith that values all communities, regardless of where they are. For Nigerian Jews in particular, this vision promises the emergence of a new generation of knowledgeable and passionate leaders—men and women who understand the rabbinic path as a sacred calling to serve others and embody the values of Torah in ways that resonate both locally and globally.

Ultimately, when Jewish education flourishes in Africa, the title “Rabbi” will naturally be revered as a symbol of deep commitment and integrity. In doing so, misconceptions will fade, and a renewed wave of devoted servants of Hashem and humanity will rise— rooted in learning, guided by tradition, and inspired by a shared future.

The post Who Is A Rabbi? first appeared on African Jewish Voices.

TIKKUN OLAM, a powerful three-word phrase in English that translates to “repair the world,” is one of the most common phrases among the Jews. Not only is it a fervent expression, but it is also sacred and an eternal call, which invokes a reminder of the duty of mankind to the surrounding environment. A responsibility: to repair, revive, restore, or protect the nature around us as much as we can, ensuring it doesn’t continue to decay into deplorable conditions.

Unfortunately, water bodies, one of the four essential elements that sustain humanity and life in nearly every part of the globe, now experience unprecedented deterioration due to the actions of the very humans they support. Initially, as stated in Bereshit, water enveloped the entire earth until Hashem separated dry land from it and placed man upon it. Today, activities of human beings living on the land are the main source of pollution threatening our rivers, seas, and oceans, which constitute a total of 72% of the entire planet Earth.

Against this backdrop, a nonprofit organization in the United States initiated a renewed mission to repair our waters, Tikkun Hayam, approximately a decade ago, and it has since gained global traction. Repair the Sea is an organization that envisions a world in which the ocean is clean, aquatic life is abundant and safe, and the sanctity of water is appreciated and protected. Its vision and mission strategically blend science and spirituality with a Jewish perspective, which has immensely drawn tons of Jewish volunteers to this cause.

Among all its initiatives, the Reverse Tashlich, which recently debuted in West Africa, is the most engaging and has a global spread. The concept is rooted in the Jewish Rosh Hashanah tradition of casting crumbs of bread, symbolizing human sins, into a body of water, referred to as the tashlich rituals. Nonetheless, the opposite of this action entails removing sins in the form of human waste, such as used plastic bottles, nylon, and other garbage near the water, to prevent them from getting into the water.

Last year’s outing had a total of 320 teams, each consisting of 10 to 15 volunteers, participating from 31 countries in 6 continents. The global marine cleanup exercise, which took place simultaneously across the planet, happened on September 28th, barely three days before the fast of Yom Kippur. Teams were required to register online and maintain a web platform where they would update important cleanup details post-event. And according to information made available, a significant amount of plastic, measured in tons, was successfully collected across the board, preventing it from finding its way into surrounding waters.

In 2025, one of the newest teams in Africa came from Cameroon, Central Africa, while Kenya also made its debut in East Africa. Both countries joined the likes of Uganda, Ghana, and Nigeria, all of which have participated in the previous editions of the global marine conservation.

The Elburgon Jewish community, in kenya, perched on a high mountainous location carried out the reverse tashlich in grand style, covering a lot of ground from the sloppy track of the crowded mountain settlement down the hill. The area, known as Sakaitim, has a population of about 3 thousand people whose daily use of plastics that are indiscriminately deposited finds its way down the hill, eventually ending up in the Njane dam. The settlement pattern on the slopes of the highlands causes rainwater to flow down, carrying away various materials, most of which end up in the dam.

With a team numbering more than the expected 15 men, members of the Jewish community, most of them dressed in reflectors and bearing collection bags, began the cleanup in the village area. They moved from house to house and from corner to corner and collected used plastic bottles from the surroundings. Onlookers cheered them and offered a helping hand, lauding their efforts. The group was led by Moshe Ben Abraham, the leader of the Jewish community and the chief government official for the area, which spans beyond Sakaitim and includes a total of about 22 villages. For the residents of Sakaitim, it was a worthy sight to behold their chief leading such a cleanup on a sunny Sunday afternoon with his team.

The location is situated within the Rift Valley area in Kenya. Typical of these places, it is not only on elevated ground but also consists of many slopes, ridges, undulating hills, short valleys at different heights, and meandering rocky tracks. Although with near-freezing temperatures at some times of the year, the region has excellent soil fertility, which supports agriculture. Hence, most of the people are farmers and engage in farming all year round. Many also keep cattle for meat, donkeys as farm animals, and cows for dairy, all these animals thriving on the rich grass due to the area’s high soil fertility.

Despite the area’s excellent soil fertility, the hilly terrain causes rainwater and runoff from mountaintops to flow downwards, up to where it eventually settles into the lakes that are abundant in the rift valley area. This was a major concern to early settlers in part of this region, most of whom were Europeans, including the Jewish people who erected the historic Nakuru synagogue in 1956, a site less than an hour’s drive from the Elburgon Jewish community. To make use of the area’s rich soil, an innovative strategy was implemented to create dams in various locations that would trap large volumes of runoff water, thereby ensuring a readily available water supply for year-round agricultural activities.

The water held in the dam supports the soil around it and serves as a source of irrigation for many farmlands. These artificial dams, primarily constructed at the base of slopes and on flat valley surfaces to capture significant amounts of water, feature narrow exits at the opposite end to mitigate the risk of overflowing floods, which can happen occasionally, posing substantial harm to agricultural lands and risks to human safety. The dams are interconnected, with their outflows channelling into the next dam in the distance. In the Chandera jurisdiction, there are approximately nine dams, including the Gwatanero, Million, Ndega, Njane, and Nyeda dams.

The Njane dam, closest in proximity to the Elburgon Jewish community, has a picnic spot at a corner, which attracts people seeking leisure time, only to leave used plastic bottles at the banks that often end up in the waters of the dam. Members of the reverse tashlich team reached the dam as part of their cleanup site, where they rounded up the daily activities mapped out for the day. At the end of the task, which lasted more than three hours, the team headed back to the village after removing all the plastics that could have ended up in the dam.

However, plastic bottles are already trapped inside the dam in an enormous quantity, and the ones still gathering at its banks are not the only threat faced by the dam. While it is feared that continuous accumulation of all sorts of plastics potentially can block the narrow exit channels, disrupting the controlled flow, and eventually leading to flash flooding, there is another more disturbing real threat —aquatic weeds. These weeds grow from the deep bottom of the dams and sprout in most places up to three meters.

With such sporadic growth, the aquatic weed competes for space inside the dam and is now a common menace in almost all the dams. If left unchecked, it not only blocks part of the channel of flow but can also displace a volume of water to flood the banks. Nonetheless, removal of aquatic weed wasn’t part of the day’s assignment, as the job requires a more experienced marine-savvy team and equipment. On a later date, led by the chazan, Michael Moshe, and a team that included some non-Jews, they conducted a pilot test to remove some of the aquatic weed along the shoreline; however, they did not venture deep due to the associated risks.

With a total number of collected plastics standing at around 9,674, the next step was a proper disposal as demanded by the principles of the reverse tashlich marine conservation exercise. The whole idea is to first remove the waste debris, preventing it from ending up in surrounding waters. Additionally, it is important to ensure that the disposal is carried out in a manner that prevents the collected waste from returning to the same environment. Alternatively, the end goal should be aimed at exploring viable recycling options as post-reverse tashlich measures with the intention of helping the plastics regain their usefulness again.

The participation of Cameroon in this 2025 reverse tashlich marked a meaningful moment for Jewish marine conservation engagement in Central Africa, with the Beth Goshen Jewish community in Yaoundé choosing the Yaoundé Municipal Lake as its cleanup site. This lake, which is in the Atemengue plateau valley in the heart of the Cameroonian capital, is not a random choice. The history of this place goes back to the 1950s, when a dam was built on the Mingoa River, eventually giving rise to a body of water that soon became a recreational and social landmark. The site attracted families, cultural activities, and even a nautical club that was founded in 1953. Later, the lake was also the site of fairs and public celebrations. It became a place of relaxation and shared identity for people in the city. However, its gradual decline was not only ecological but also cultural, calling for practical actions to restore both nature and public awareness.

The Yaoundé Municipal Lake, like many other lakes in cities in Africa, has been affected by population growth, bad garbage management, and insufficient environmental restrictions. Over time, plastic waste and wastewater discharges altered the ecological balance, destroying the site’s beauty and cleanliness. The local government has tried to rehabilitate the Mingoa Valley in several phases, including cleaning up the water, treating it, building pedestrian walkways, and making it easier to get to. The first phase, which was finished in March 2024, has already changed some portions of the lake scenery, making it cleaner and easier for people to get to. But, with a second phase of the rehabilitation project currently suspended due to funding gaps, voluntary actions such as the reverse tashlich become an essential complement to the efforts of municipal authorities. The Beth Goshen team understood this need and acted appropriately. This situation demonstrates how national plans for environmental repair can incorporate Jewish environmental principles.

On the day of the cleanup, some members of the community, led by Rabbi Haim Mpodol, arrived in the afternoon equipped with collection bags and gloves, performing the symbolic action of “removing sins” not by casting them into the water, but by extracting them. They toiled on the shores of the lake, where plastic bottles and throwaway packs had built up over time. People who were passing by were curious about what they were doing because it was unusual to see a group of Jewish people actively cleaning the environment in a busy African capital. Volunteers discussed what the reverse tashlich means and how it combines a spiritual message with real-world environmental responsibility.

The cleaning in Yaoundé, like its counterpart in Kenya, illustrated the global reverse Tashlich’s adaptability. From the man-made dams and rural settlement of the Rift Valley to the rehabilitated urban lake in Central Africa, the ceremony connects Jewish communities worldwide through a shared lexicon of action. In Cameroon, the cleanup served as a powerful, visible statement: that repairing our waters is an important part of restoring our world, and that every community, regardless of where it is, has the potential and the duty to start that repair in its own backyard.

For the Kenyan group, the collected waste marked the first batch of plastics to be stored at the Elburgon dump yard. Given the distance to the nearest recycling facility in the city, the team plans to continue removing plastics from their surroundings, securely stockpiling a substantial amount before transporting it to town for proper recycling. Looking ahead, full-scale removal of aquatic weeds is also being planned to repair and save the dams. The project will require strategic partnerships, an experienced team, and adequate funding. If this initiative is successful, it will not only keep farmlands, human settlements, and local fish populations safe from the dangers of flooding, but it will also ensure the long-term ecological health of the area’s water resources.

The post Tikkun Olam in Africa: Reverse Tashlich Reaches Cameroon & Kenya first appeared on African Jewish Voices.

OVER the past three years, Jewish sporting activity in some parts of Africa has experienced a remarkable transformation, which is marked by a rise in youth participation and the steady growth of organized friendly competitions. In Nigeria, for example, what was once limited to occasional football matches during periodic youth Shabbat gatherings has evolved into regular sporting programs led by Jewish-owned and community-based clubs. Teams such as Maccabi FC Nigeria and Harachman FC have emerged as pioneers of this movement, helping to place structured Jewish sports back on the communal agenda.

Beyond football, other disciplines have also gained visibility. Athletes are now participating in relay races, volleyball, swimming, and table tennis, particularly among Nigerian Jewish communities. Outside Nigeria, women’s netball teams in Uganda and various sporting initiatives in Eastern Africa, like long-distance racing in Kenya, further demonstrate the territorial expansion of Jewish athletic activity on the continent. Together, these developments reflect a growing recognition of sport as a tool for youth development, discipline, and communal pride.

The Maccabiah has been organized by the World Maccabi Union since its inaugural tournament in 1932. The Games, often referred to as the “Jewish Olympics,” occur every four years and have seen more than 20 editions. They currently attract Jewish athletes from around 80 countries worldwide. Although there are long-established indigenous Jewish communities in Africa, the continent has historically experienced limited participation. This narrative is starting to evolve as African Jewish athletes increasingly position on the path towards international competition, including prospective participation in future Maccabiah Games.

Competing at this Olympic level requires consistent training, professional skills, and physical fitness. In response, a structured football initiative was launched in Nigeria to provide players with access to organized coaching, and regular football activities for youth development. Based in Abuja, Maccabi FC Nigeria was created as a national platform for Jewish footballers residing in the region, and eventually became one of the first African Jewish teams to prepare for potential participation in the Maccabiah, thereby hoping on making history in Jewish football.

Last year, during the build-up to the Maccabiah, their chances of participating in the football activities in the group stage became slimmer due to certain underlying factors and timing. But, by the time the Maccabiah postponement was announced on the 16th of June, 2025, something bigger was taking shape in the continent. It was like an awakening, and we saw inside the formation of the Maccabi African Confederation, Africa’s biggest Jewish sporting revolution.

Through networks such as the Sub-Saharan African Jewish Alliance (SAJA), Jewish athletes from several African countries and potential teams ready for organization came into the limelight. Much of this momentum has been inspired by the consistent advocacy of the Maccabi Nigeria Union, which has pushed for greater inclusion of African athletes in international Jewish competitions. To support this vision, country representatives and regional coordinators have been identified across sub-Saharan Africa, laying the administrative and managerial foundation for broader participation.

Following extensive consultation, organizers concluded that Africa required its regional and continental competition as a stepping stone toward international tournaments. This led to the decision to plan and host a maiden edition of the Maccabi Pan-African Tournament, MPAT, designed to bring together Jewish teams from across the continent in a structured and symbolic sporting event.

At the time of the first official announcement, three football teams had already indicated interest in participating in the tournament, which is scheduled to be hosted in Nigeria. The most recent club to join this list is Xriso Sporting FC, an Abuja-based side managed by Shlomo Yaakov, a chazan at Gihon Hebrew Synagogue. His efforts have led to the establishment of a training partnership between Xriso Sporting FC and Maccabi FC Nigeria.

Under this arrangement, players from both teams share training facilities and participate in joint practice sessions, enabling increased match exposure and improved fitness levels. The collaboration is intended to create a shared football environment in which players train together, play side by side, face each other in friendly matches, and gain valuable competitive experience ahead of the Pan-African tournament.

On 4 February, two defensive players from Maccabi FC Nigeria, Shimon and Chayim, featured alongside Xriso Sporting FC in a friendly match at the Sports Complex Stadium, which ended in a 4–4 draw. Continuing a few days later, on 8 February, Xriso Sporting FC secured a 4–2 victory against the visiting Peculiar Football Academy. These matches form part of a broader schedule of weekly fixtures designed to sharpen performance and build match fitness in preparation for the proposed pilot edition of MPAT.

As Nigeria prepares to host this historic event, interested athletes and teams are now able to register through the official platform of the Maccabi Nigeria Union. The tournament is expected to feature multiple sporting competitions, including football, tennis, swimming, relay races, and other track and field events. Participation will include both male and female athletes, with delegations anticipated from more than ten African countries.

While an initial date had been proposed, organizers have since adjusted the timeline, opting to hold the tournament after the Maccabiah in Israel. The period of Sukkot 5787, corresponding to September 2026, has been identified as the most suitable timeframe. This adjustment is intended to allow sufficient time for wider participation, improved planning, and the mobilization of financial and logistical support.

With these developments, the Maccabi Pan-African Tournament is shaping up to be more than a sporting competition. It represents a continental statement of unity, ambition, and a new frontier, offering African Jewish athletes a platform to compete, connect, and contribute to the growing legacy of Jewish sport on the continent.

The post Maccabi Pan-African Tournament: Xriso FC Set to Compete, Other Latest Updates. first appeared on African Jewish Voices.

The word “kosher” comes from the Hebrew כָּשֵׁר (kasher), which literally means “fit,” “valid,” or “compliant.” In Judaism, this term primarily refers to what is permitted for consumption according to the Torah, but its meaning extends far beyond food. To be kosher is to be aligned with the Creator’s will in what we eat, what we do, and who we are.

“The basis of the laws of kashrut is found in the Book of Leviticus: “You shall consecrate yourselves and be holy, for I am holy.” (Leviticus 11:44). Kosher, according to the Torah, is a divine law of choice.”

The concept of kosher is therefore linked to holiness (kedusha). The permitted animals are clearly defined: those that chew the cud and have cloven hooves, as well as fish with fins and scales. In addition to this, there is the ritual slaughter (shechita) and the prohibition against mixing meat and milk.

The Ramban (Nahmanides) explains that these laws are not only sanitary but also spiritual. In his commentary on Leviticus 11, he writes that forbidden animals generate a spiritual impurity that affects the nature of the human soul: “These foods create a thickening in the heart and close off a person’s spiritual sensitivity.” — Ramban’s commentary on Leviticus 11.

Thus, from the text we learn that eating kosher concerns not only the body but also has to do with the soul and the moral perception of the human being.

Kosher as an Education of the Soul (Ben Ish Hai)

The Ben Ish Hai (Rabbi Yosef Chaim of Baghdad) elaborates on this idea in his teachings on the sanctity of food. He teaches that food directly influences the quality of prayer, wisdom, and moral conduct. In his work Ben Ish Chai—Parashat Shemot, he states that a person who eats pure foods develops a clearer intellect and a heart more sensitive to the Torah: “Kosher food illuminates the soul, while forbidden food darkens the mind.”

For him, being kosher therefore means being able to receive divine light. It is a form of inner education: each meal becomes an act of spiritual discipline and a constant reminder that God is part of daily life.

Furthermore, texts from the Talmud looked at being “kosher” in actions and words. The concept of kashrut is extended to include human behavior. In everyday Jewish language, to say that a person is kosher means that they are upright, sincere, and honest. According to the Talmud, “His ways are gentle ways, and all his paths are peace.” (Proverbs 3:17).

This means that a person can eat perfectly kosher food, but if their actions are corrupt, they are not truly “kosher” in God’s eyes. True kosherness also encompasses the following:

• Manner of speaking
• Probity in business dealings
• Faithfulness in keeping commitments
• Respect for others

Thus, a kosher life is one founded on holiness, order, justice, and restraint.

Educational Application for Bantu Jews

The Bantu Jews are indigenous African Jewish communities rooted in Bantu-speaking societies, particularly in parts of Central and Eastern Africa. They practice Judaism while preserving distinct African cultural identities, blending Jewish tradition with local customs, language, and communal life. For Bantu Israelites in present-day Cameroon, understanding kashrut is not simply about learning Jewish dietary laws but about re-establishing a sacred identity. Being kosher means:

• Reconciling with the Torah
• Purifying one’s body and soul
• Distinguishing oneself from secular practices
• Restoring ancestral holiness

Kosher then becomes a tool for spiritual and cultural rebirth, a return to the Covenant.

In conclusion, according to Ramban and Ben Ish Chai, kashrut is not a constraint but a path of inner transformation. It elevates the individual, educates the heart, and purifies the mind. Ultimately, being kosher is not just about eating according to the Torah; it is about becoming a person who conforms to God’s will.

The post What Does “Kosher” Mean? first appeared on African Jewish Voices.