A Journey Across Continents: The Story of Beta Israel's Trek to the Promised Land

For nearly two thousand years, the Beta Israel community lived in Ethiopia as an isolated, independent Jewish enclave, fiercely preserving their Jewish identity with an unwavering yearning for the Holy Land. 'Ethiopia is a vast country,' notes Shai Yasu, a member of the Beta Israel community. 'It encompasses enormous regions and over a hundred million residents, yet only a few thousand Jews lived in small, close-knit communities predominantly in northern Ethiopia, in the Tigray region, including the Wolkait area in southwestern Tigray and the Amhara region (Gondar).' **Jewish Life in the Heart of Ethiopia** 'Did the Beta Israel community maintain a full Jewish lifestyle in Ethiopia?' 'Indeed, we had spiritual leaders known as kessim, priests, who guided all religious life. My grandfather, Kess Isaac Yasu, was one of the great leaders of the Tigray and Wolkait regions. He traveled from place to place teaching the Jews Torah and how to conduct themselves, making peace when needed, and nurturing the hope of immigrating to Israel. Usually, if a son passed the priesthood exams, the role was inherited from father to son. However, my grandfather was appointed as a kess despite his father, Dabtara (a sage) Yasu, not being a kess because he was extraordinarily knowledgeable in Torah. He could read and teach it to others. The kessim were well-versed in halacha, as known to us in those days. The kessim even had written Torahs—'the Oreet' (like Torah)—which guided them and the entire community on how to act.' 'What was the Torah knowledge available to Beta Israel Jews? Did the halachic works of the early and later authorities reach Ethiopia?' 'Unfortunately not. The Beta Israel community was cut off for nearly two thousand years from other Jewish diaspora communities. One of the leading theories is that Ethiopian Jews arrived in their land 130 years before the destruction of the Second Temple. When the Kingdom of Judah was at war with the Kingdom of Israel, they preferred to flee the conflict and traveled far to Ethiopia. They believed they were the last Jews left in the world, failing to attempt contact. Thus, all they had was the Written Torah, to which they adhered with all their might. All prayers and everyday conversations were infused with the Ten Commandments, and Jews only married among themselves, adding many precautions for extra caution. They felt obligated to continue the Jewish people. However, the Oral Torah did not reach them except for a few texts, and so they led a unique lifestyle akin to the days of the Temple: they observed purity laws, brought tithes from produce to the 'priests'—the kessim—and even offered a Passover sacrifice as described in the Torah.' '**Reaching Jerusalem** By 1980, after years of longing, Jerusalem seemed closer than ever, and the community decided to immigrate to Israel. What prompted you to finally act on the dream? 'Grandfather Kess Isaac, together with Kess Abraham Tizazu and Asfa Eleazar, convened the community and declared that this was the time to rise and immigrate. Shortly before, my paternal grandfather, Kess Isaac, had also immigrated to Israel. We heard of Jews exiting through Sudan successfully reaching Israel without capture, which gave us significant hope. Another consideration was the deteriorating political climate. At that time, a war broke out between Emperor Haile Mariam and the rebels. Jews stood caught in the middle, unwilling to take a side. Such rebellions were not uncommon in strife-torn Ethiopia, but apparently, the governmental instability contributed to the decision to leave. The internal upheavals accelerated the steps towards the joyous decision. It wasn't a surprise to any of us, as we always knew that one day, we would rise and go to Zion, praying for the moment to come.' 'Did the Ethiopian authorities grant you exit permits?' 'Yes. My grandfather was a courageous man. He approached the rebel officer responsible for our region, named 'Awatehi,' and declared that we were Jews needing to return home. After many months of talks and waiting, we received permission to leave. The permit was granted on a Thursday, and by Sunday, we set out on our journey. We took essential items, leaving the rest to our non-Jewish neighbors and the rebel soldiers who allowed our departure. Awatehi asked my grandfather, 'When you reach Jerusalem, pray for us.' As families, we set out by night. Our family consisted of seven children, God bless them. I remember my mother walking in the dark with the younger ones in her hands and on her back, my father in charge of the packages, and us, the 'older' children, marching tirelessly by their side. My grandfather, Kess Isaac, led the large group with Kess Abraham Tizazu and Asfa Eleazar. We couldn't walk by day due to the harsh desert sun and the fear of being caught by the authorities still battling the rebels. The journey was long and grueling. Only the hope and dream of soon reaching Jerusalem gave us the strength to survive. 'In the journey's first stage, soldiers escorted us, and we later hired guides. It was an extremely long journey, during which we had to change guides. Each guide walked the travelers through a known section of the path, and upon reaching the guide's destination, we stopped and sought another guide familiar with the continuation. For nearly two months, we trudged the roads toward the Sudanese border, traveling only at night to avoid detection and because of the desert's heat, traversing wild, barren desert terrains. We progressed from place to place, as the food and water we took as supplies dwindled, replenishing them at the next stop for all-too-short durations. We faced roaming wild animals, water shortages, and at times, ambushing highway robbers who stole our money. One guide we hired turned traitor, leading us straight into the hands of robbers instead of safeguarding us and steering clear of their harmful reach. Numerous disasters and hardships befell us, and the group faced countless moments of fear and terror, surviving only by divine providence. Only we as children worried not about anything. We were elated to march to Jerusalem, running ahead of all the adults with enthusiasm to ensure the path was clear before us. We didn't comprehend the dangers lurking around; we only longed to reach Jerusalem. By the grace of Hashem, in our group, we witnessed great miracles, with our entire family safely completing the journey.' After nearly two arduous months, the Yasu family reached Sudan, where they were supposed to meet with Israeli Mossad agents who would fly them to a neutral country and then continue to Israel. However, reality unraveled differently. 'Where did you arrive in Sudan?' 'Due to the Ethiopian war, tens of thousands of non-Jews also fled to Sudan, and massive refugee camps sprang up for all the refugees. The Red Cross was already present at the camps, offering aid to the refugees. We too arrived at one of these refugee camps called 'Tawa.' Seeing that most campers were non-Jews, we realized that openly identifying as Jews posed a genuine threat to our lives. We didn't reveal our Jewish identity and presented ourselves as non-Jewish refugees fleeing the fear of the emperor or the rebels. Only we recognized each other as Jews. Thus, in disguise and fear, we stayed in the camp for three entire years.' 'How did you manage to conceal your Judaism over such a long period?' 'It was a truly challenging task, but the danger was greater. For example, on one Shabbat, my sister Espec (Merav) and we children were at home alone, and a non-Jewish neighbor asked us for a light. My sister was very frightened and didn't know what to do. Eventually, she stammered and said she didn't have a lit flame at the moment, but she could light and deliver one. My sister cried a lot but lit a fire to give to the neighbor, fearing her discovering our Jewish identity. When our parents returned, she greeted them in tears for having to desecrate Shabbat. Our parents tried to calm her, saying, 'Fast for a day, and Hashem will forgive you.' After all, they hadn't learned that saving a life overrides Shabbat but understood that my sister acted correctly. On the whole, our parents with their prominent Jewish visage, rarely left the house. Only we children ventured out, and the burden of providing fell upon us. To reduce the risk, our parents admonished us not to reveal our Jewish identity while reminding us to maintain our distinctiveness from the non-Jews. For us children, it was easier to blend in and become part of the scenery. We quickly learned Arabic and assumed Muslim names like Ali, Ibrahim, Mohamed, and more. I remember once when a wealthy sheikh took pity on me and brought me food with meat. I didn't want to eat non-kosher, but I also didn't want to betray my Jewish identity. I took the tempting food, said 'thank you,' and when he wasn't looking, I threw it all away.' 'Can children six and eight years old support a family? How?' 'It truly is incredible, especially since we came from an established family. But when needed—anything is possible. I worked various jobs, including portering. I stood near a fruit and vegetable shop and offered to carry bags for a small fee. My brother worked on an open transport vehicle, where his job was to stand behind and collect money from passengers. Like us, there were other Jewish children working in the city, and together we formed a little group aged 6, 7, 8, tasked with bringing bread home. We had a childish agreement among us to watch over and help each other. There were whole days when we had nothing to eat. We would go to a café, sit beside the rich, and wait for them to give us their leftovers... There were days when we didn't have money to return home to the camp from the city where we worked, and reluctantly we would sleep under railway tracks, one facing east and the other west, one protecting the other. In the morning, we would get up and return to look for work. Once, we noticed our friend Lig'alam didn't show up for work, and later we found that he died of malaria.' 'As small children in the big city, who protected you?' 'Only Hashem watched over us. We often heard stories of child kidnappings for slaves, and we all feared and tried to be cautious. I remember a day when I carried the bags of a wealthy Sudanese man to his home. Upon reaching the house, he told me 'come in.' I entered, set down the bags, and asked for the 'masari' (money in Arabic) owed to me. The Sudanese man told me 'sit down' and suddenly closed the door behind me. I felt a great fear descend. I couldn't believe what was happening to me. Searching all around with heightened survival instincts, by Hashem's mercy, I noticed the back door. I quickly slipped out, miraculously escaping from that wicked man. It was a significant trauma for me that I cannot forget. Yet despite it all, I continued with the hard work. I knew the family depended on me, and ignoring my young age, I continued to work for three long years.' 'Why were you delayed in Sudan for so long?' 'The plan didn't involve such a lengthy stay in Sudan, but there were organizational enhancements in managing the immigration process, and in the meantime, many Jews couldn't survive and died of hunger and disease on Sudanese soil. We only stayed alive through a miracle. I too contracted malaria, like many others, and by Hashem's grace, I survived. My cousin Masgana Alemu was a five-year-old girl, smiling and beautiful, who always dreamt of immigrating to Israel. When everyone fell ill with malaria, she didn't survive... May her memory be blessed with the other deceased.' After three tough years in the Sudanese refugee camp, it was finally the Yasu family's turn to immigrate to Israel. What was the journey to the Holy Land like? 'Here it's appropriate to commend the Mossad operatives and all the activists who risked their lives for Jews they didn't know, solely because they were Jewish. An unparalleled mutual responsibility. From the refugee camp in Gedaref, we reached the capital city Khartoum, and from there, via flight to France—a neutral country to mislead the Sudanese about our destination. From France, we flew to the Holy Land. Along the way, the Mossad agents provided us with food, and the feeling was one of immense relief being among fellow Jews.' **Mountaintop of Dreams** 'The most emotional moment of the journey was stepping off the plane onto the land. We all kissed the ground with overwhelming excitement, feeling profound gratitude to Hashem for allowing us to reach the land.' 'Throughout the years, you dreamt of Jerusalem made of gold and precious stones; did you feel disappointment facing a reality where the promised land also had diaspora and daily challenges?' 'We understood that the land wasn't as imagined, but the happiness surpassed all disappointments. With Hashem's help, there's great abundance here and a warm Jewish heart, most importantly—Jews and Torah. As a nine-year-old who knew how to sell and support but not read, I was thrilled to sit quietly and learn the Hebrew alphabet and the sacred Torah. 'Most moving, my grandfather Kess Isaac went to study again the Oral Torah that we lacked. 'I came here to learn from you,' he humbly said, the respected leader of our community, and following him, all Beta Israel members humbled themselves and accepted Moses' Torah both written and oral. The tremendous excitement was when he donated our ancient Torah scroll—the Oreet—to the Israeli people for the national library. We held a sort of Torah dedication parade, and it was a special joy. We felt we had achieved our ultimate aspirations in the dreamland.' Over the years, Yasu has committed himself to preserving the heritage of Ethiopian Jews, having already penned five books on the subject. His latest book, 'Yasu,' released with the assistance of the 'Milin' Institute, also speaks to young children, charmingly recounting his memories of immigrating to Israel. 'It's important to me that people know and meet us firsthand, and when you know, it's easier to love and respect,' Yasu says. 'It's important we focus on our shared aspects as a people. Every community brings its uniqueness, and together, we complete the mosaic called the Jewish people. There's room for everyone, and a good name surpasses everything.' For contact with the Milin Institute - [email protected]