The Foreign Service Journal, June 2008

Nigerian capital, Abuja, and Lagos possessed no synagogue, no communi- ty center and no Chevra Kedusah bur- ial society. The few Jews resident in Lagos led very secular lives. The Israeli who led Yom Kippur services each year had recently departed Lagos. We began with four couples: Marla and me; David Rosenbloom, the con- sulate’s agriculture counselor — who, of course, was on extended travel out of the country — and his wife Vikki; Michelle and her non-Jewish husband Stephan, who worked at the Canadian embassy; and Sharon Polishek, second secretary at the Israeli embassy, and his Australian-born wife Shannon. To prepare for a proper Jewish funeral, we were not much of a brain trust. We needed guidance, time and, most importantly, a minyan (quorum) of 10 Jewish men in order to conduct a ser- vice. I consulted my limited Jewish library, beginning with all three edi- tions of the Jewish Book of Why . What was the Jewish philosophy regarding death, the most critical ritu- als for preparing the body, the grave- side prayers not contained in my prayer book? How should I speak with the family? I put in a plea for help to the rabbi of our congregation in Arlington, Va. She sent me advice and faxed pages of helpful instructions and liturgy. This was the easy part, as I soon found out. Located in Lekki Estates on the outskirts of the city, the Mba residence was an upper-end, two-story detached home. Sandy, rubble-strewn fields separated it from neighboring houses. Rutted dirt lanes without names linked it to the main road. Marla and I arrived after dark, but the house was well-lit. The gate opened into a small patio and drive- way. On a table by the front door a condolence book lay open. A friend of the family welcomed us. We were ushered past a score of visitors to a second room. Ben was awaiting our arrival. His appearance was striking: In his late 50s, he possessed the smooth face of a man decades younger, and his hair, a very distinguished salt-and-pepper, was straight out of Hollywood casting. Even in his evident sorrow, his charm and charisma were mesmerizing. Three grown children entered the room. They were even more beautiful and radiant than he, testimony to their unique combination of Ibo and Australian (Jewish) blood. Despite their sadness, all displayed an intense curiosity about their mother’s Judaism. In Ben’s living room, we discussed the Jewish philosophy of death. The concepts made sense to Ben and his children. For perhaps the first time, they said, they could appreciate Nina’s special cultural identity. The Jewish process of death, I explained, sought to heal the living. Unlike Christian doctrine, Judaism did not focus on an afterlife. Nina’s deeds on earth, in this life, we agreed, were indeed those of a righteous person. That thought pro- vided comfort for her family and made her memory a blessing. We spoke of the rituals of death. On one issue, Jewish tradition would, unavoidably, be violated: Nina’s funer- al and burial would not be prompt. In fact, in deference to Ibo tradition and the arrival of close family members, the period between her death and her interment would be weeks. I explained the various mourning peri- ods, beginning with the seven-day shiva, and described other customs within the house of mourners such as covering up mirrors and the family’s use of stools or the floor instead of comfortable chairs. With an English transliteration, we practiced reading the Kaddish, the mourners’ prayer. We discussed the proper preparations, including dressing the body in a white linen shroud. Even the placement of Nina’s grave site in Ben’s home com- munity of Onitsha had to be done in proper fashion. Ben agreed to all. Yet in the back of my mind, one concern overrode all others: getting a minyan. Nina’s remains rested in a public morgue on Ikoyi Island, not far from our residence. Jewish law dictated that only women and non-family members touch the body, and Marla, Michelle and Vikki were the only Jewish women available. To enter the portals of a Lagos morgue took courage, especially when the latex gloves had been forgotten. Death in Nigeria comes in many forms. Diseases unheard of in our own country are endemic. Sanitation is a foreign concept. Refrigeration? We were skeptical. Electricity in Lagos is sporadic at best. After more than a week, in what condition would Nina’s body be? The three women proceeded with trepidation. The mortuary was freezing! The lightly dressed women were not pre- pared for the chill, which got colder. An attendant came over and offered to assist. He smiled at the three white faces and held out his hand. “Call me Hitler,” he said. Amazingly, the order- ly’s nametag confirmed that his name was Hitler. Three hearts almost ceased beating to match the fourth on the slab. It was another cosmic Nigerian surprise. After recovering their composure, the women approached the remains. 52 F O R E I G N S E R V I C E J O U R N A L / J U N E 2 0 0 8 We knew with certainty, however, that Lagos possessed no Jewish community.