I have been living with the Abayudaya, a Jewish tribe in Eastern Uganda, for over a week now. At the last minute I changed my Independent Study Project (ISP) from evaluating indigenous knowledge in development schemes to examining how Jewish philanthropy has affected the Abayudaya. I could not be happier with my decision. My first few days in their village, I struggled to wrap my mind around the reality of this community. I was initially touched by the community’s spirituality as well as perplexed by its existence here. To me, Judaism is cultural. Can it be cultural here when it is two foreign cultures bottled as one? The Hebrew, the prayers, the talitot are all comforting. Patterns of behavior mimic those that I’m used to at my home synagogue. But why do these people choose to be Jewish? I identify with the spiritual and cultural aspects of Judaism. It is odd to me that they are drawn to the religious ones. Judaism makes sense to me. But I don’t expect it to make sense to everyone. Perhaps that is why I’m surprised that this community, which six generations ago had no connection to Judaism, decided to embrace it.

I’m living with a host family 6 km or so away from the main Abayudaya village. The family has a large and successful farm, so I’m stuffed full of fresh mangoes, avocados, pineapple and bananas. I love the drastically different pace of life in the village as compared to life in Kampala. I can sense myself getting antsy every now and then while I sit in the shade of a tree for hours with one other person for company. Or when I’m walking at a snails pace from point A to point B with my Ugandan companion. But I remind myself there is something to appreciate in these (painfully) relaxed moments. And when I am conscious of my own restlessness I remind myself to be grateful of where I am and what I’m doing at that moment (even if I am doing nothing at all).

Passover was great. I was a bit homesick (there’s nothing like having a familiar Seder with those you love). But there’s also nothing like cooking for 300 people without electricity. I spent six hours Wednesday sifting through a 100 pound bag of rice! Both men and women were involved in the preparations. When I arrived in the morning, the men were slaughtering and skinning goats and the women were koshering the plates. The first night’s Seder was about twice as big as the second night’s, but the service was nothing alien. Quite similar to what Jews do in The States (minus the goat).

The people here are wonderful. Some of the community members have truly taken me under their wing. I don’t know if they do this for all visitors, or if they are trying to make a good impression for my research, or if I’m something special. I’d love to say the latter, of course, but I think it is probably a mix of all three. Nonetheless, it has made for an extremely meaningful experience. In less than a week I found my niche in this community. It definitely took effort on my part, and was aided by the people’s open demeanor. But I feel comfortable now. I feel at home.

My entire study abroad experience has made me question where I belong. But for the time being, I know that I’m right where I should be.