The Foreign Service Journal, June 2008

J U N E 2 0 0 8 / F O R E I G N S E R V I C E J O U R N A L 51 he Lagos Women’s Book Club met every Thursday afternoon in the home of one of its members. This usually necessitated a mad dash for my wife, Marla. Unlike most of the club mem- bers, she worked full time. Both of us served at the U.S. consulate general. With a membership that was fairly balanced between expatriates and Nigerians, the club was quite popular. Indeed, more expatriate women sought membership than there were available slots. Selections were made judicious- ly, generally by invitation through someone already well- established within the group. Marla knew she was fortunate to be a member and welcomed the intellectual and social stimulation the group offered. Nina Mba was a longtime regular in the club. Australian by birth, Nina was married to an Ibo. They had met while both were students at an Australian university. With her new husband, Nina moved to eastern Nigeria — Biafra — in the mid-1960s, just in time for Nigeria’s civil war. A historian, author and editorialist, she was a Lagos legend. Her remarks at the club, Marla noted, reflected a quick and curious intel- lect. I met Nina on only one occasion, a day I arrived early to pick up Marla. She was a somewhat tall, heavy-set woman, in her mid-50s, who wore large glasses and was dressed in a colorful Nigerian wrap. We exchanged pleasantries. We were already in bed when the telephone call came. Marla reacted with stunned silence before replacing the phone in its cradle. Nina had died a day earlier, the victim of a botched hysterectomy at the Lagos Military Hospital. Our initial reaction was anger. Why undergo such an operation in Lagos? The family could easily have afforded treatment in Europe or the U.S. Indeed, as we would soon learn, three of Nina’s children were doctors. The eldest lived in Chicago! Later, we received a second telephone call. It was from Nina’s husband, Ben. He was kind, his grief palpable but controlled. I offered condolences. The voice at the other end of the line paused. Through a close friend of the family and active book group member, Ben had learned that we were Jewish. That is true, I said. “Then perhaps you can help me,” Ben said. “Nina’s dying wish was to be buried as a Jew.” A Jewish burial? In Nigeria?! I told Ben we would do what we could. With a population of 12 million or more, Lagos is sub- Saharan Africa’s largest city. We knew with certainty, howev- er, that Lagos possessed no Jewish community. There were Jews, of course. A few Israeli businessmen with families in Tel Aviv pursued Nigeria’s unique business opportunities. Each Yom Kippur, services were held at the home of one of them. But the tiny Israeli embassy had relocated to the A L AGOS D IARY : D YING R EQUEST FOR A K OSHER B URIAL I N THIS TRUE STORY , AN FS COUPLE RESPOND TO A FRIEND ’ S DYING WISH TO BE BURIED AS A J EW — IN N IGERIA . T B Y L AWRENCE C OHEN Lawrence Cohen, a recently retired FSO, served overseas in Mexico, Honduras, India, Hungary, Brazil, Afghanistan and Nigeria, where the events recounted here occurred in 2002. Now a consultant, he is assisting U.S. investors in Af- ghanistan and also teaches tradecraft at FSI.