By Rivky Hertzel, Shlucha in Zambia, Africa
Sometimes we learn lessons the hard way in Shlichus, this was one of them.
I was elbow deep in the kitchen Erev Sukkos, 12pm. My husband walked in, his face turning colors, “They’re refusing to let the lulav and esrog go. There’s no one to talk to. We won’t have any Daled Minim for Yom Tov.”
No lulav and esrog? What are we, in communist Russia? Simply unthinkable.
I grabbed my phone and Facetimed the lawyer we had sent to the airport to release our boxes of lulavim and esrogim. “Get the lady in charge on the phone.” A few minutes later, I was on the line with the head of the Ministry of Agriculture.
“Hi Madam, you have failed to get the necessary signatures and documents from the ministry of agriculture in South Africa.”
“No problem! We’ll get them! Tell us what to do.”
“Ah no, madam, this will take you a couple of days or weeks. In the meantime, the flowers will remain with us.”
The panic began to rise. “They aren’t flowers! They are a religious obligation for me and my family. It’s a life or death matter! Our holiday begins in a few hours and we must get them released! Name a price, you’ll get it.”
She became angry with me, and for the next five minutes lectured me on the protocols of the country for bringing in plants.
My husband was searching for flights. Should we grab our babies and get on a plane to Johannesburg to arrive seconds before Yom Tov? And leave our community behind… no. If they don’t get to shake lulav this year, neither will we.
We got messages flying in groups – are there any bochurim ten minutes away from the airport and willing to jump on the plane right now? No such luck. The clock was ticking. It wasn’t looking good.
The doubts crept in. Are we crazy? Did the Rebbe really want us in a place that we could potentially not have the basic Mitzvos for Yom Tov?
Ten minutes later, I was offering her my entire bank account, yet she wouldn’t budge. The Ohel app was open on my phone, updating on the minute.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, she named a small price. I couldn’t believe my ears.
“Are you telling me if I send you 1,500 ZMW (approx. $50) you’ll hand over the flowers to my lawyer?” “Yes madam.”
Now, we don’t have cashapp here in Zambia. My husband jumped in a taxi, ran to the bank, and ten minutes later the money was there. That’s it! The miracle occurred. We’d have a lulav and esrog for Yom Tov this year.
Or so I thought…
I called Victor again. “So, do you have it in the car?”
And with the trademark Zambian “ahhhhh” he said, “Not yet madam, we have to go through three more offices to receive permission.”
I’ll spare you the details, but the next 30 minutes were spent convincing and paying multiple people to push off their set in stone lunch break for just a few minutes so they can take care of our “flowers”.
Finally, a picture arrived of the boxes in the trunk of the car. “I have got them, madam.”
‘Don’t believe it till you see it’ I thought, bracing myself to find a completely random box in his car. We moved through the motions, bathed the kids, and finished preparing a Yom Tov meal for 30.
Forty five minutes later Victor was at the door with a box. It was long. It looked like it could have lulavim inside… one couldn’t be sure.
We sliced the boxes open, and sure enough, there before us were fresh, green, beautiful daled minim. I can’t remember being emotional over a mitzvah before, but this year’s lulav and esrog was different.
“You better take one home and shake it every day, I almost emptied my last pennies over this lulav!” was how we convinced each Jew one by one to take it home. “It’s a miracle lulav, trust me, you want it.”
You better bet we’ll be shipping our lulav and esrog before Shavuos this year, but aside from that, I learned one thing mainly. That it’s true, we’re actually crazy. All of us. Those of us on Shlichus. And those of us supporting the Shlichus. And this craziness is a gift. A shtus dikedusha. Something other-worldly us Lubavitchers received from the Rebbe. Not by choice, by the way. He hand picked us to be educated in this beautiful insanity called Shlichus. A life-long mission that makes no sense. That has no end-date and no financial guarantee. No promises of a lulav and esrog for Sukkos or hot water for your kids’ bath. No knowing when the electricity will bail on us, or rather, when will it not bail.
There are millions of other good and beautiful Tzedaka causes you can give your monthly maaser to. Why support a tiny growing community of 70 yiddishe families in the middle of nowhere? And yet we go. And yet we give.
To the tiniest farthest pinah nidachas, the Rebbe said nearly 60 years ago Purim 5728.
Somehow, it makes sense to us. That is the Rebbe’s gift. A super-human koach that we really shouldn’t have. But we do. And with this koach we’re capable of basically anything.
—
A couple of months ago I found myself with a two day time limit to learn all the ins and outs of completing a Tahara. After desperately searching for someone more experienced than I to fly in and guide me, I crash-coursed myself with demo videos and an hour-long face time date with a woman from Chevra Kadisha learning how to tie the knots of the Tachrichim.
Agreeing to do this was somehow obvious, but I couldn’t even understand why myself until I was in the room standing next to that Jewish body. It hit me; this neshama is mine, she belongs to me, I am her caretaker.
This is the shtus dikedusha the Rebbe gave us. All of us. To take responsibility for a community of 100 neshamos across the globe whom you’ll never meet. That’s a beautiful gift.
So I ask you, please take a moment to generate some light in our far fledged shlichus.
Your donation will pay for a flight to mikvah in Johannesburg, and for a pair of tefillin for the one child in our Hebrew School.
$800 a month will fill up our generator with fuel for air conditioning, ovens, and light for community Sedarim, a Brunch & Tefillin, Model Matzah Bakery, Jewish Women’s Circle, and a weekly Lunch & Learn.
$3,000 will allow us to renovate our Chabad Center to become home to the first Jewish preschool in the country.
$11,000 will help us purchase our first car so we can continue growing and thriving in our Shlichus.
We are live now at www.Charidy.com/zambia! Please take a moment to click the link and give with your heart.
Thank you for being a partner with us in the Rebbe’s shlichus in Zambia. May our work together bring Moshiach quickly.
A kosher un freilichen Pesach
Wow wow this is very inspiring
Kol hakavod
Hatzlocha in shlichus, I donated bH!