African Huts in Jerusalem
by Shelley Fortune

JERUSALEM- An air of solemnity hangs over the ancient monastery atop the roof of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem's Old City. There are few tourists here and the monastery, with its dome shaped huts, seems almost forgotten. Inside, one feels immediately transported to medieval times. Occasionally, a brown-faced monk in a long black robe is spotted in the cluster of huts that are meant to replicate an African village. They, along with the adjoining St. Helena's chapel, are home to the monks of the Ethiopian Orthodox Church. For centuries this church, seldom heard about in the West, has considered the rooftop and its attached sanctuaries, its holiest site.

The Ethiopian Orthodox Church, one of the oldest branches of Christianity, traces its ancestry to King Solomon of the Old Testament, who they believe fathered a child with the Queen of Sheba. Unlike other Christian groups, it combines Old and New Testament practices, retaining some rituals found in Judaism - circumcision, dietary laws, and observance of the Saturday Sabbath (in addition to Sunday Sabbath). Their ancient language Geez is a Semitic language similar to Hebrew. Originally Jewish, these Semites converted to Christianity in the 4th century CE, when a Syrian apostle brought the new religion to the land. Others converted in the last century to avoid widespread religious persecution against Jews. Ethiopian Orthodox Christians believe that they house the Ark of the Covenant, on which Moses received and wrote the Ten Commandments, in Ethiopia (Jews of European descent disagree with this). Additionally, unlike many other Christians, the Ethiopian Orthodox Church believes that Jesus Christ has one nature that is solely divine, instead of two that are both divine and human.

"The Ethiopian Church goes down from King Solomon," the Rev. Gebra Mariam, speaking in Amharic, said through an interpreter.

A monk with the church, Mariam sits in a corner inside the dim, candle lit St. Helena's Chapel and reads from a large laminated Bible written in Amharic. His large dark eyes peer beneath the black hat pulled over his eyebrows. Robed in black, the gray bearded monk holds a cane and an ornate wooden cross. He turns on the lights of the church to show the artwork on its walls depicting Biblical scenes. Inscribed beneath a colorful painting of the Queen of Sheba is a verse from I Kings 10:1 -

"And when the Queen of Sheba heard of the fame of Solomon concerning the name of the Lord, she came to prove him with hard questions."

"This is the main church, the center," says Mariam. "Once a year, there is a pilgrimage here on Easter. Three hundred or 400 Ethiopian Orthodox Christians come." "We consider Israel our second country," adds the translator, who says she has lived in Israel for 18 years.

Though she refuses to give her name, she mentions that she works for the United Nations. She adds: "Life here is great...all and all we are treated very well."

Amare Bogale is an Ethiopian Orthodox Christian who has lived in the Holy Land for approximately five years. The 64-year-old visits the chapel every day, often bringing the monks ijera, an Ethiopian bread. As he enters the chapel for worship, he immediately kisses the delicate metal gate surrounding the altar and pews, closing his eyes as his lips touch the cold metal.

For Bogale, kissing the gate means, "I feel very deeply in my heart, and I am giving prayer."

Yet Bogale's experience in Israel has not been as positive as the translator's. He tells quite a different tale of life for Ethiopian Christians. Apparently, it is not only among Westerners that some Ethiopian Orthodox Christians feel overlooked. Within Israel itself, some of the sect's residents feel marginalized.

"It is difficult to get visas," says Bogale of the Ethiopians who have managed to remain in the country. "They are not giving visas, I don't know why, after they have lived here for so long."

He seems particularly worried about his daughter, who will soon be forced to return to Ethiopia. A math and science teacher in Ethiopia for 34 years, Bogale now does odd jobs. He says his visa allows him to live in Israel, but not to work here on the books. His wife tends to their home in Ethiopia, while he lives in an apartment owned jointly by the church and the Ethiopian Consulate. His apartment building, located on Ethiopia Street outside the walls of the Old City in Jerusalem, seems nice, although not as fancy as the Jewish residences that surround it.

"It's $500 per month, too expensive," says Bogale.

He faults the Ethiopian Consulate, not the Israeli government for problems experienced by his people, saying that they can do more to help. But despite the problems, Bogale does not wish to return to his homeland.

"There is so much corruption there. There is no democracy. The country is not good for us," says Bogale. "We have been here since Solomon, but our population has increased recently," explains Abiyou Menigistu, secretary of the Ethiopian Community in the Holy Land. "Immigration to Israel started about 20 to 25 years ago. In the last five years, because of the Ethiopia's economic situation, there have been more [immigrants]. Seventy-five to 80 percent of new immigrants are without the proper documents, such as visas," he says.

Menigistu speculates that there are about 2,000 Ethiopian Orthodox Christians living in Israel today.

"Discrimination is something that we do not wish to discuss in public," he continues. "First, we are Christians and this is a Jewish land. We don't see it in public but we feel it. We are abused. They are not friendly to Christians. Second, we are black. It's not that we feel inferior, but that's the way the whites see the blacks. It [discrimination] is not seen publicly, but individually. It is here. We feel it. The message is that blacks are supposed to do inferior jobs."

Yet according to the Ethiopian Embassy in Israel, discrimination does not exist.

"We have not heard about any discrimination at the embassy. It is not on the record, and, therefore it does not exist," says a man at the Embassy who refuses to give his name.

In the past few decades, the Ethiopian Orthodox church has battled with the Egyptian Copts over ownership of the monastery and chapel. Awarded the sites before the nation of Israel even existed, the Ethiopian Orthodox Christians are now at the mercy of the government which has the power to decide, and also reverse, the case. Situations like this may provoke fear of government criticism. But even Ethiopian Orthodox Christians who do feel neglected are not left out of feeling the effects of the second intifada.

"We can not go to Bethlehem because of the problems in the last four to five months," says Bogale.

When asked whether he would support a Palestinian state, he answers simply, "No."

Menigistu is a bit more vocal, "I cannot speak for the entire community, for me personally, I don't support what they're doing to the Palestinians," he says. "They have to do away with the occupation. The Palestinians need to have their independence. I know there is no simple mechanism for doing away with it, but it is colonialism, and I don't like it."

And while, by tradition, monks refrain from commenting on politics, Abba Tesfa, a monk who has lived at the larger Ethiopian Church and monastery on Ethiopia Street for six years, says that he is now "nervous about peace... something must be done to compromise."

In the meantime, the monks in the secluded monastery on the rooftop of the Church of the Holy Sepluchre continue to carry on as they have for centuries. They continue to pray for peace in a land where that ideal is ever so elusive.