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- <text id=91TT1241>
- <title>
- June 10, 1991: Refugees:Transplanted in Time
- </title>
- <history>
- TIME--The Weekly Newsmagazine--1991
- June 10, 1991 Evil
- </history>
- <article>
- <source>Time Magazine</source>
- <hdr>
- WORLD, Page 30
- REFUGEES
- Transplanted in Time
- </hdr><body>
- <p>As more Ethiopian Jews flood into Israel, those who arrived
- earlier have learned to like suburbia. But all that noise!
- </p>
- <p>By JON D. HULL/ASHDOD
- </p>
- <p> Shoshana Nadou plummeted into the modern world in 1984,
- when she and 7,500 other Jews from remote villages in Ethiopia
- were secretly airlifted to Israel. "Everything looked so new
- and scary," she says. "One old woman smashed a television with
- a broom when she saw a picture of a fire." Now Nadou, 21, is
- firmly entrenched in the Israeli middle class. She and her
- husband Eyal, a construction worker, own a three-room apartment
- in the coastal city of Ashdod. Two of her brothers are in the
- Israeli army, and another recently graduated from college.
- "We've been transformed into Israelis," she says in fluent
- Hebrew. "Ethiopia seems very far away."
- </p>
- <p> Last month, 14,000 more Falashas--the Ethiopian
- pejorative means strangers in Amharic--were airlifted to
- safety in another Israeli rescue operation. By plane, the trip
- from Addis Ababa to Tel Aviv takes just under four hours. But
- for these rural and deeply religious Jews, who believe they are
- descendants of King Solomon and the Queen of Sheba, the journey
- spans centuries. Descending from C-130 transports and commercial
- jets, they discover that their new home is not the least bit
- familiar. Says Rachamim Elazar, an Ethiopian activist who
- arrived in Israel in 1971: "It's the distance of 2,500 years."
- </p>
- <p> Housed in hotels and shelters throughout the country, the
- bewildered immigrants are pondering flush toilets, pay phones
- and a pace of life that seems breathtaking. "We must learn
- everything," says Kasfi Sheto, 28, who reacts to the sensory
- overload with a fixed smile. For now he seems content with the
- multicolored and ill-fitting outfit he plucked from a huge pile
- of donated clothing. "All we want is to be Israeli."
- </p>
- <p> Judging by the experiences of their predecessors, most of
- the immigrants will manage the adjustment. Mandatory service in
- the army--Israel's ethnic blender--quickly induces a new
- sense of identity in the young, who account for two-thirds of
- the latest immigrants. But tanks and tear gas are easier to
- master than modern culture, especially for a people who revere
- silence and modesty. Says Addisu Messele, chairman of the
- United Ethiopian Jewish Organization: "I love Israel, but
- Israelis are very aggressive and loud and impatient." Says Leora
- Samuel, who emigrated from Ethiopia in 1984 and now counsels
- newcomers: "Basically, we have to learn how to use our elbows."
- </p>
- <p> Israel's warm embrace and a remarkable lack of
- discrimination between blacks and whites help ease the trauma.
- Until the mid-1980s rabbinic authorities questioned the
- Ethiopians' Jewishness. But the debate has subsided, and their
- Jewish credentials are now widely accepted. At least 400
- Ethiopians have attended universities and 25 are officers in the
- army. Says Sergeant Shalom Sebate, who immigrated in 1985: "No
- one questions my authority. We're all Jews." Although the
- massive influx of Soviet Jews has overwhelmed the nation's
- resources, unemployment among the Ethiopians is lower than the
- national average, largely because of their willingness to take
- menial jobs. "We don't have doctors or lawyers," says Elazar.
- "We just need time to adjust."
- </p>
- <p> The lack of professional skills accounts for the
- Ethiopians' comparatively lower income levels, but careful
- government planning has prevented the creation of ghettos.
- Instead, small clusters of Ethiopians live in dozens of towns,
- easing the process of integration. Even so, the leap from
- subsistence farming to suburbia can be wrenching, especially for
- the elderly. "The old ones pay the price," says Gad Ben-Ari,
- spokesman for the quasi-official Jewish Agency. "We can support
- them but I doubt they'll become Israelis." Eager to conform, the
- young reject traditional customs and cuisine while the village
- religious leaders, known as kessim, become increasingly
- irrelevant. "It's very hard to preserve our culture," says
- Messele. "How will we teach the next generation to be silent and
- respectful?"
- </p>
- <p> Since 1985 almost 50 Ethiopians have committed suicide,
- depressed by both family separations and culture shock. The
- Ethiopians' ingrained reluctance to complain may also be to
- blame. Says Samuel: "They hold everything inside, sitting and
- brooding, until one day they explode." Israeli officials say
- slightly higher suicide rates are endemic among new immigrants
- worldwide and expect the problem to decline now that most
- families have been reunited. Says Louis Rapoport, author of two
- books on the Ethiopian Jews: "You can always find some bitter
- cases but I think most of them have integrated extremely well."
- </p>
- <p> Israel's Ethiopian community now numbers 36,000, and
- veterans have been employed by the government to ease the
- transition for newcomers. The little things can make all the
- difference. Because making coffee is part of the daily Ethiopian
- ritual, the arrivals are allowed to boil their own brew in their
- hotel rooms, where some may live for up to a year while taking
- language classes. Other problems are more insidious. The sudden
- switch to a high-fat and high-sugar diet is likely to increase
- the incidence of heart disease and cavities, which until now
- have been unusually rare among Ethiopians.
- </p>
- <p> Yafa Bogalay, 28, is happy with the trade-off. Her first
- life ended in 1981, when she fled to Israel after Ethiopian
- government troops raided her village school in the Gondar
- province, hauling away suspected rebels. "I cried and cried when
- I first got here," she says. Now she works at a child-care
- center in Ashdod and refuses to teach her three children her
- native language. "I don't want to even think about Ethiopia,"
- she says. "There was too much suffering." Her sole indulgence
- in the past is listening to Ethiopian music on her tape player,
- which offers the only safe passage back to the thatched hut of
- her childhood.
- </p>
-
- </body></article>
- </text>
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