Purim in Uganda with the Abayudaya

While I’m in Rwanda I get an email from my older sister telling me that Purim (a Jewish holiday) is coming up and I should find some Jews in Rwanda to celebrate with. I’m busy thinking, “yeah right, like there are Jews in Rwanda,” when I get this crazy idea in my head. I remembered reading about some Ugandan Jews, and was now wildly considering rushing back to Uganda for Purim. My original plan (if you could even call it that) was to head down the west side of Tanzania to Malawi. But that’s the whole fun of backpacking without an itinerary, you can be spontaneous and change your plans at the last minute.  

I usually let holidays pass by when I’m traveling, but Purim sort of rocks. We dress up in costumes, eat hamantashen (yummy cookies), tell the story of Purim – making noise everytime the bad guy is mentioned, get drunk and dance in the streets. Yup, I know what you are all thinking….Jewish holidays sound awesome. 

I send a quick email to Robbie (in Uganda and also Jewish) to see if he is up for spending Purim with the Abayudaya Jews. The next day, I’m on a 10-hour bus ride back to Uganda. Once I arrive in Kampala, I spend the night and then jump another uncomfortable 5-hour bus ride to Mbale, where I meet Robbie and Jana. From there we take a taxi into the village where the Jews live. The community has a guest house where we stay, and there we meet two Israeli girls with the same idea as us.

The synagogue

Unfortunately I don’t carry a costume in my backpack (only the essentials) so I put on a dress and I am ready for synagogue. But then the woman at the guest house says she has a costume for me, and five minutes later I have a peach-colored Bugandan princess dress on with a blue sash and shoulder pads up to my ears. The service itself was very surreal to me. To think I am sitting in a synagogue in a small rural village in Uganda with a bunch of Ugandan Jews in costume. It was actually pretty funny because usually the men and women sit separately but there were so many people who cross-dressed that no one knew exactly where to sit. They sang Hebrew songs and read the Megillah (the Purim story) the same way my synagogue at home does. Well, almost the same. The singing included dancing and musical instruments we don’t use in the US. And reading the Megillah was done in Hebrew, Luganda and Swahili as opposed to just Hebrew.

After the service everyone crowded around the Rabbi’s house and waited for a portion of the two goats he slaughtered as a gift to the community. We headed back to the guest house for a delicious kosher meal, which included goat. I was the only one brave enough to try a bite.

Eating goat

The next day we went to synagogue again, watched the Purim play and visited the school and clinic in the community.

Children performing a play on the story of Purim

I actually wanted to spent a few more days in Rwanda. But leaving a bit early to spend Purim with the Abayudaya Jews was more than worth it. This Purim will definitely take the cake on being the most memorable.

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