by Tzurit Fenigshtein, originally published in Hebrew in Eretz Binyamin, the
journal of the Mateh Binyamin Regional Council, edited and translated by Hillel Fendel
After meeting and talking with Ariel and Eliana Limania-Limbo, two new immigrants to Israel from Belgium, I realize that the life choices I have made in my lifetime pale in comparison to those they have made. They are "settlers" living in Eli, just north of Shilo, they are religious, and they are black-skinned – and they still laugh whenever they see the looks of surprise of those who hear their French-accented Hebrew for the first time.
After meeting and talking with Ariel and Eliana Limania-Limbo, two new immigrants to Israel from Belgium, I realize that the life choices I have made in my lifetime pale in comparison to those they have made. They are "settlers" living in Eli, just north of Shilo, they are religious, and they are black-skinned – and they still laugh whenever they see the looks of surprise of those who hear their French-accented Hebrew for the first time.
Ariel was born in Democratic Republic of the Congo (formerly
Belgian Congo and Zaire), to an Ashkenazi-Jewish family. He immigrated as a lad
with his family to Belgium, where he studied law and served as legal counsel
for the Belgian Electric Company. He met Eliana, then a Christian and daughter
of a former Belgian Parliament member, in a memorable encounter:
"In the year 2000," Ariel told me, "during the
Second Intifada, I took part in a discussion in Belgium with some
acquaintances. The basic tone was one of criticism of Israel and its treatment
of Palestinians. Eliana was there, but did not join in. When asked her opinion,
she said she did not have sufficient information to form an opinion. This
impressed me, and I began to talk with her. I learned that her family was
Evangelical and loved Israel, and that she had learned the Bible and was drawn
to Judaism. Her approach to Israel was positive and forward-looking. When she
converted to Judaism before our wedding, this was simply another step up a
ladder that had already been in place."
The couple lived in Brussels and had five children, whom they
sent to private Jewish schools. This was not as simple as it sounds, as Ariel
explains: "As Muslims began moving into Jewish communities, the Jews moved
out, leaving the schools behind in the heart of hostile Muslims areas. But
despite the dangers, the religious Jews still send their children there, because
they want them to receive authentic Jewish education." He added that
assimilation is a grave danger in Belgium:
"Belgium has some 40,000 Jews, including 20,000 in Brussels – precisely where there is the most assimilation."
"Belgium has some 40,000 Jews, including 20,000 in Brussels – precisely where there is the most assimilation."
Ariel's Hebrew is impressive, and he is careful about
choosing the right words in order to be understood accurately. For Eliana,
speaking Hebrew is somewhat harder, though she seems to understand it
perfectly. In any event, it appears that feelings are stronger than words for
her, especially when she talks about her decisions to convert, to make Aliyah,
and to live in the Shomron. She makes light of the difficulties and dangers,
for these choices came straight from her heart. "We came because of
faith," she says.
Ariel's decision to come is built more upon logic:
"Ideologically, I have long thought that once there is a Jewish state,
there is no reason, for the most part, for Jews not to live here. I want to
take part in building and advancing the country, and not watch from the outside."
On the other hand, "in Belgium, and in Europe in general, Israel's image
is one of danger, wars, and terrorism, and with economic difficulties to boot.
It wasn't easy to take my family to such a place, without the good jobs that we
both had in Belgium, and away from family and friends. These were all prices
that we had to take into account."
So how is such a decision made, I ask? "I first came to
Israel in 2010," Ariel tells me, "and I volunteered in an IDF base,
mainly in order to get to know the people. My experience was very positive.
People went out of their way to help me, even without being asked – something I
never knew in Belgium. It was very different than what I had been told about
Israel, and I felt at home. I later repeated this experience several times –
one of my daughters was born in Belgium when I was on an IDF base – and
gradually the decision solidified that we would move to Israel."
The situation in Europe made the decision easier: "I
began to realize how Islam was taking control in Europe. I believe that there
is no future for Jews there."
And finally, from a religious standpoint: "My religious
feelings sharpened, and I understood that to be Jewish abroad was merely a matter
of religion, while in Israel – it is life."
The family joined a Jewish Agency program called L'Alyah de
Groupe, comprising several families wishing to make Aliyah together. Ariel
realized that his knowledge of Israel was mainly based on his IDF experiences,
and he sought a community in which his family could live and thrive: "In
Belgium I met an Israeli friend who invited me to his home in Eli, in central
Samaria. I took him up on it, and I was truly entranced by the place, with its
historic and Biblical roots, and the special people who lived there. I realized
that Israel's PR campaigns have not succeeded in transmitting the beauty, the
truth, and the morality that so typifies these areas."
Eliana: "When Ariel returned from his visit to Eli, he
told us with shining eyes how he saw children playing on the streets on
Shabbat. I also wanted to see a Shabbat without cars. In Brussels, the Jews
live in closed neighborhoods, while here there is something free and serene in
the air." She wanted to come and check for herself, of course, and came
away from her visit with the same positive impressions as her husband: "I
didn't think about finances or about security. I knew we could deal with moving
to another country, as we had done once before from Congo to Belgium."
Ariel and Eliana found a home in Eli and signed a rental contract,
but for technical reasons were forced to delay their arrival in Israel by a
year. "I decided to pay the rent for that year anyway," Ariel tells
me, "because I didn't want to miss the chance for that house, and I also
realized that without the financial commitment, our Aliyah might get pushed off
indefinitely."
Ariel and Eliana made
yet another difficult decision: They chose not to tell their children that they
were making Aliyah until the very last minute – literally. "We were afraid
that the school, which had been losing many children each year, would pressure
the children not to leave. And so we took them to the airport as if we were
seeing Ariel off on another trip to Israel, and only there did we tell them
that we were actually all going to Israel, for good! They were actually very
happy and excited about the adventure that lay before them."
Upon arrival, they received their Israeli ID cards even
before they left Ben Gurion Airport, together with explanations about their
rights and obligations as new immigrants. "It made us feel at home right
away," Eliana recalls. From there they went straight to Eli in the Shomron.
"Friends and neighbors who knew we were coming came to welcome us, and it
was quite moving and exciting."
Then began the difficulties. "The children knew French
and Flemish," Ariel tells me, "but no Hebrew. They were made to feel
like outsiders, and it was hard for them – making it hard for me as well. They
soon learned Hebrew pretty quickly, but learning the culture took them a bit
longer. For instance, in Belgium, parents are very involved in the children's
lives and watch over them very closely. Here, however, it is very different.
Children don't always tell their parents when they go visit a friend. We had to
make sure that they told us what they were doing and when they were coming
back. It is the job of the parents to provide the proper balance between
independence and responsibility."
Eliana gives two other examples: "The children here mark
the holiday of Lag BaOmer with large bonfires, which are dangerous for those
who are not used to this – such as my children… I also met new immigrants who
used to walk alone on Highway 60 [a north-south route more than 200 kilometers
long, much of which traverses Judea and Samaria], without taking heed of the
security dangers. One has to learn the framework and principles of each
place."
In the end, no need to worry: I can report that the children
have by now integrated successfully into their respective frameworks in Israel.
The oldest is studying in the Yemin Orde Youth Village near Haifa, the second
one has begun learning in Yeshivat Pisgat Ze'ev in an Air Force course of
study, the next one is in school in nearby Shilo, and the two youngest girls
are in elementary school in Eli.
When I asked Ariel if he had encountered any prejudice based
on the color of his skin, he recalled some negative experiences at the hands of
the Ashkenazi population in Congo. "There is now also a French-speaking
Sephardic population," he added, "and they tried to get me to adopt
Sephardic traditions. But my family tradition is Ashkenazi, although our skin
color changed over the course of a century from light to dark…"
In Israel, he was the victim of some prejudice, though not in
the army: "In the IDF I saw Sephardim and Ashkenazim, Ethiopians and
Russians, all of them serving together, and I saw no racism at all. But outside
the army I have seen some racism. I try to ignore it and view it as marginal.
It definitely does not characterize Israel, but it exists."
"When my children are taunted, I teach them what I
myself learned at home. I tell them that if someone acts in a racist manner,
there are three possibilities. One is that he is simply ignorant and does not
know. This is the easy situation, as those who do not know can be taught. A
second option is that the person has received misguided education; there is no
easy response to this, and it can be exceedingly frustrating, because these are
people who refused to be confused by the facts. They are to be pitied, and the
only thing we can do is to ignore them. The third possibility is that they are trying
to use you and take advantage of you for their own purposes. Every situation of
this nature requires careful consideration; you have to be smart."
I asked Eliana about the price she pays in loss of contact
with her Christian family. "My
mother accepted my decision to make Aliyah very naturally," Eliana
begins, "because she saw how important it was to us. But the rest of my
family truly doesn't understand it; they don't get why we want to move to
Israel of all places. I know that some of my friends who visited us here have
now changed their minds about Israel, and I would like my family to come and
see from up close what life is like here. My mother still harbors the hope that
I will return, but I think she is beginning to understand that that will not
happen. She is very worried about terror attacks and calls us every time she
hears something. She only begins to get the picture of how relaxed our lives
are when she speaks to our children and they tell her how much fun it is."
Eliana worked in the local baby day-care center in Eli when
she and Ariel first arrived, and later started her own little nursery at home.
At present, she is the bread-winner, while Ariel is studying. "When I
first arrived in Israel, I had a hard time choosing what to study," he
recalls. "Financially we not doing perfectly, but we do have some income
from abroad, and it was very important to me to learn." Finally, he chose
to sign up in Ariel University and study Middle Eastern Studies, with an
emphasis on foreign policy, and an Arabic track.
He is quite aware of the difficulty of this course of study,
"but I knew that if I would do something easier, it would actually be
limiting for me. I don't want to give in to myself or avoid something just
because it's hard. Precious things are acquired with hard work."
Along similar lines, "I feel a sense of mission in choosing
to live in a unique area with a complex political and security situation. It is
important for more and more people to engage in diplomacy and hasbarah
[building Israel's image and explaining its case]. Everyone has a task in
defending and serving our country. I feel that I must study so that I will have
the proper tools to fulfill my role… We are isolated because our message is not
getting out, and I feel the obligation to make a difference."
Regarding Judea and Samaria in general, Ariel speaks with fire
in his eyes: "Now that the world is increasingly recognizing Jerusalem as
Israel's capital, the next stage is recognition of Judea and Samaria as Israeli
territory. This entire area must undergo a major change. There is no hospital
here, for instance, and not enough industry, employment or culture. We have to
shake things up so that the Binyamin region [southern Samaria, north of
Jerusalem] will really get moving. And if the State doesn't do it, then we'll
have to establish non-governmental organizations to do it."
"When I was 13, my father told me, 'If you want
something, then you can find the way to do it. If you can only see the
problems, it means that you don't really want it so much.' My studies have
helped me plan out from where to start, where to go, and what to do. We have to
be more assertive and dynamic; we have suffered enough."
Continuing to dream aloud, Ariel adds, "Herzl had a vision, and we
have fulfilled it. Before his death he said that after our national redemption
takes place, he wants to see the African nations achieve independence. Our role
is to be a light unto the nations, and not just to be like everyone else. We cannot
turn our backs on our unique role. In order to be a light to the nations, Jews
have to return to the Land of Israel, and to shine outwards from here. Most of
the time it is hard to relate to this because of our everyday difficulties… but
I know that the more Jews who are here, the more everything will improve."