The short end of the stick
Four best friends sit before me. Three are going. One must stay back.
"The first thing to do is to join the military", Gashaw Awoke, 18, says in Hebrew.
"Then, to study a Bachelor of Science at an Israeli university."
A rather promising Israeli.
He says he is unsure whether his parents — both currently unemployed and unable to speak Hebrew — will find work in Israel and he has promised to support them as best as he can, once he finds himself some work.
I wonder whether the 18-year-old’s body language is always this restrained. He is either shy or cautious not to hurt his friend, who sits just centimetres away. His friend has been refused entry into Israel.
The flatness of Gashaw’s face, sharply outlined by an iron jaw, is interrupted by two bulging eyes. He answers all questions slowly: “After being in Israel, I will come back to visit Gondar because I have friends and family here too.”
Asked whether he will feel more Ethiopian than Israeli when living in Israel, he responds: “Even if I was born in Ethiopia I feel that I am Israeli because that is the Promised Land. But the fact that I was born in Ethiopia means that I may have some feeling for the country.”
On the topic of various challenges he may face in Israel, Gashaw loyally considers the feelings of the friend listening beside him.
“Normally after people leave Israel they are either happy when they get there, or they miss their family. They feel bad that there are people who have to stay here. I have dual feelings.”
* * *
It wasn’t immediately obvious which was the one to stay in Gondar, but Gefaneh Ayanaw soon identified himself upon request.
What the 20-year-old had to share was a tragic story of neglect, wrought by a combination of sheer carelessness and back luck.
When his mother died, his father took off to live in the countryside with one of his brothers, leaving both Gefaneh and his little sister behind.
The two kids lived with their grandparents for a short while, before the grandparents left for Israel in 2003 and took Gefaneh’s sister with them.
Sophia Fuichtwanger, the Jewish Agency for Israel (JAFI) aliyah and education coordinator, tells me later that the people who compiled the 2010 list of Falash Mura eligible to make aliyah under Operation ‘Wings of the Dove’, simply forgot to include Gefaneh. An administrative error of grave consequence.
After his grandparent’s departure, he moved in with his uncle, who has since made aliyah. He is now living with another uncle, who is set to leave for Israel in a week.
“I have not decided what I will do yet,” Gefaneh said, on the matter of accommodation after his uncle’s departure. “I will do what my uncle tells me.”
* * *
Gefaneh moved to Gondar three years ago and has studied at the Jewish Agency-run school since. His mother is Zera Israel (Jewish through patralineal descent is on the father’s side), which means that technically, he is not considered Jewish. This could explain the difficulty getting his name on the authorized immigration list.
He takes a break from staring at his fists to look at his friends when he reflects on their imminent separation.
“When they leave me here, I will be unhappy. These are my friends.
“I don’t understand why I have to be here when all my family is in Israel. Why do I have to be here when they are there?”
At the close of the interview, Gefaneh is sunken, his shoulders hunched and eye sockets strikingly hollow. He lingers around Sophia and appears to me to be begging for reassurance.
“Patience”, she says, holding his hand, and he smiles the type that follows a good cry.
She rubs his back affectionately for a while.
“You know how I was telling you about the special cases, the ones the committee will see after this?” Sophia asks, referring to the special cases committee set up by the Israeli Government to reexamine the status of a selection of cases that were turned down.
“It’s for people like him”.
//
Words: Timna Jacks
Pictures: David Michael
