A Reflection from Mia Maayan

Rarely in my life have I had no reference point. After our first night in Abuja, we walked to morning service from the hotel.

Dry Textures, sweet smells, the roasted corn and catfish offered to me by local vendors, goats eating from plastic buckets, blue and yellow lizards crossing the road following my dusty flip-flops. All of it, in its essence: remarkably foreign.

As the road unfolded and I was holding tighter to my newly found Nigerian co-workers, I started noticing that here I was not only just another backpacker, a westerner consumer hunting for mobile service and lucky charms. Here I was also being observed. And every time a bypasser looked into my eyes, she found them in their essence: 

remarkably foreign.

We reached the synagogue. Women in the back, men in the front. The bimah in the center, the Torah closet behind. We opened the book, and the words of the prayers rose in Hebrew.

They turned toward Jerusalem, toward Zion and the returning of its ancient people to Israel. Knowing when to bow, when to cover our faces, when to stay silent, kiss the Torah, and say Shabbat Shalom. While little girl fingers played with my hair in awe, her mother and I were crying to the same God. 

And suddenly, I was inside every synagogue I had ever visited in my life. Suddenly, it did not feel foreign at all. 

Remarkable. 

I spent three weeks in Nigeria, taking part in Camp Sarah. A Jewish day-camp for local children, celebrating and affirming their identity through songs, crafts, and storytelling. A vibrant oasis where Judaism stood at the center in a country mostly consisting of Muslim and Christian faith.

Here I met a wonderful community that made my world expand and contract all at once. 

As a Jewish hippie who travels a lot, I thought I had a pretty good understanding of what a strong community meant for the quality of a human life. But being invited into the fellowship surrounding Camp Sarah, I caught a glimpse of something new in the way people moved together 

The individuals I met; each and every one with different personalities, struggles, dreams and personal tastes, formed a human safety net strong enough to heal the sick, carry the tired, and praise the exalted. Being invited into this circle was humbling.

I thought I knew how to move my hips: they proved me wrong. I thought I liked spicy food: they proved me wrong.

I thought I was street smart: but one 10-year-old with a football was enough to prove me completely wrong.

I found myself met, held, challenged by, laughing with, crushing on, and feeling seen by a group of young adults like myself, that quickly went from co- workers making sure I made it across the road in one piece, to companions … though still making sure I got over the road …  

I got to experience my own introverted boundaries being crossed, as well as my attitudes towards problem-solving, child-raising, and pace-keeping. It’s not easy to realize that things are and can be different, if you let them be. And it can be even harder to figure out when it’s appropriate to compromise on your own standards, boundaries, and beliefs… and when it isn’t.

Do I rush the kids to the next activity to maintain schedule? Or do I peel an extra banana while witnessing small séances of dance and play unfolding in the courtyard?

Do I insist on paying for my own $1 beer knowing the difference in wages? Or do I let my local friends take me out, enjoying their kind and consistent generosity?

Do I happily let the younger sisters of camp braid my hair outside the hotel after a day of work to the sound of Pidgin English joke-cracking, Omah Lay and Rema? Or do I decline while trying to explain how in ‘reality’ it’s disrespectful of their culture, and will likely earn me judgmental stares on the metro from Copenhagen Airport to Nørreport station?

In Nigeria I learned that being ‘brown’ in Europe doesn’t make me not ‘white’

I learned that being from a Western country doesn’t make me more up to date or give me a more refined character.

I learned that being Jewish doesn’t alienate me from society, but connects me to an international network of solidarity and culture.

And that being all of the above come second to the fact of being human.

A heartfelt thank you to the organizers of Camp Sarah and the local staff for letting us step inside. The difference this camp makes for everyone participating is unmistakable.

And I am better for it.