Ethiopian outcry

As a storm of protest by Ethiopian youth unfolded in Jerusalem last Thursday, preceding the clash between demonstrators and police that followed in Tel Aviv's Rabin Square, Tsega Melaku stood among the protesters, torn between three identities: journalist, mother and social activist. Melaku, a senior journalist on Amharic-language Radio Reka and former director of Israel Radio's Reshet Alef, was promised a seat on Moshe Kahlon's Kulanu list, but her candidacy was rejected at the last minute for technical reasons. She came to the demonstration to report what was happening for her radio audience. Among the protesters were her two sons, aged 18 and 21, whom she educated to always stand on their own two feet, feel proud and not be silent. Several years ago, she took them on a roots tour to Ethiopia to learn about their heritage. Melaku, a social activist, was once among the leaders of the “Blood Protest” by Ethiopian immigrants – spurred by a January 1996 story in Ma'ariv in which the paper revealed that Magen David Adom was throwing away blood donations given by Ethiopian immigrants for fear of infectious diseases. A few days later about 10,000 members of the Ethiopian community protested in front of the Prime Minister's Office, under the slogan “Your blood is our blood.” Police, prepared for a small, peaceful demonstration, were taken by surprise when the angry, hurt protesters attacked them with stones, sticks and iron bars, responding with rubber bullets, water cannons and tear gas. In what ended up being one of the most turbulent protests in Israel's history, about 41 officers and 20 demonstrators were injured, with damage to 20 cars in the prime minister's fleet. The public outcry led to the dismissal of MDA's director-general at the time, and the establishment of a commission of inquiry headed by former president Yitzhak Navon. After several months of deliberations, the committee published its conclusions: It determined there was no reason for deceiving the donors, but did not propose a change to the procedures regarding non-use of Ethiopian blood donations. Melaku was then secretary of the umbrella organization of Ethiopian immigrants headed by Adisu Massala, who led the big rally. According to her, the Israeli public should not have been surprised then – and should not be surprised today about the community's outbreak of anger. Here, she discusses the situation, and fallout and implications for the future. Where do we find ourselves today? The writing was on the wall. I am afraid we are facing an outbreak of large dimensions, one we cannot control – and what we saw in Rabin Square on Sunday could become an Ethiopian community youth intifada. A few months ago I published a book, Not In Our School. It described my childhood and the life of the Jewish community in Ethiopia, dealing with anti-Semitism and the longing to come to Israel, but also manifestations of racism towards me and members of my ethnicity, the very appeal of our Jewish identity and the harm being done to the community's younger generation. I warned against this harm and talked about the consequences for our younger generation. We will see these consequences unless the Israeli education system works toward assimilating the values of equality and respect for differences, from kindergarten all the way to university. What is the cause of such outbursts and displays of rage? What is happening now is a flare-up of rage that was stored for a long time. The incident of the beaten soldier [Ethiopian soldier Damas Pakada's seemingly unprovoked assault by police in Holon was documented on a video that was made public] was only the trigger for what is happening now in the streets, and is the result of feelings of discrimination, alienation, humiliation, racism and the failure of the integration process that community members have experienced for decades. The video of the battered soldier was the last straw. People have been walking around here for decades with difficult gut feelings, and it was expected that one day it would burst, just as I warned in my book. Do you see a difference between today's youth demonstrations and the “blood donation saga”? It's a different generation. These young people were born here; they are Israelis who were born into a world of discrimination and racism. We are the generation that was brought up on our parents' longing for Jerusalem and Zion, and for us the immigration to Israel was the fulfillment of a dream. Today, young people who take to the streets are the product of a society that saw the catastrophic, failed absorption process. My generation and my parents' were willing to suffer to get to the Holy Land. Thousands died along the way in the deserts of Sudan, and suffered distress and persecution. Today's youth no longer lives with that ethos; they suffer because of their skin color and are not ready to accept that. And there is one more one significant difference: leadership. Adisu Massala took the people out to the streets. I myself went to the police to ask for a license to demonstrate. Today, there is no clear leadership. The kesim, priests of the community, lost their status; parents lost their authority – and youth feel abandoned and lost. They organized themselves spontaneously on the social networks, and there is no address that represents them. Tell us more about how the seeds of protest were planted. It is due to the ongoing failure of the integration process of Ethiopian immigrants. It started with the policy of dispersal of immigrants and continued with placing them in underprivileged and weak neighborhoods. They put immigrants in ghettos, so their chances from the start to break free and escape the cycle of poverty and isolation are almost zero. This refers not only to their way of life, but even the education system – which has differentiated them from the rest of Israel's children. Ethiopian immigrant children learn in non-diversified classrooms, without other types of Israelis. In some cases, such as in some Petah Tikva schools, they did not even want any children of Ethiopian origin; and in other cases, there were mayors who did not want the immigrants themselves. The whole concept of absorption failed. When Ethiopian children experience issues in school, they create an Ethiopian project; they pour a lot of money into a system in an isolated community, where the kids have no chance of succeeding. The dropout rate among Ethiopian students is high, and you see them just walking around the city. Then we are surprised that the percentage of our young people in prison is higher than the number in the general population. We see a similar phenomenon in the IDF. A high percentage of the community enlists and joins the army, but a very high percentage falls and does not finish their service. Have you personally encountered racism? Of course, all my life. I moved here in 1984 at age 16; just eight years later, my parents immigrated from Ethiopia. I studied and received bachelor's and master's degrees, but it was hard for me because of my skin color and accent. Every issue I faced there was a challenge, and I was destined always to fight. When I was introduced as a candidate on Kahlon's list, I told a true story about how people see me, asking if I'm free to clean their house. They see the color of my skin and immediately think I'm only fit for domestic work. We, the members of the community, even after acquiring an education, find it very hard to be successful in Israel because we do not have the environment of support, the support group that every other Israeli has – the friends from the Palmah that can vouch for you, from school and Scouts, army friends. In Israel it works on the basis of employee referrals, in other words, connections. We do not have that, and we have to make our way through with our own hands – and it's hard. I want to explain that the problem here is not that a cop beat a soldier. It is that there is basic racism towards immigrants from Ethiopia. It starts with not accepting us as Jews, and continues with the authorities' mistreatment of us and discrimination toward us in all spheres of life. Where do you think today's protests will lead us? If they do not start by treating the problem of immigrants and the Ethiopian community in a systemic way, getting to the root of it, the consequences could be very serious – and what we see here may mirror what is happening in the US [with race riots and looting in Ferguson, Missouri, and most recently, Baltimore]. Ostensibly, Ethiopians born here should have been better integrated than myself and my parents, but the situation is the opposite. The generation born here suffers from the fact that they do not fit in. They see themselves as Israelis in every way, and are not willing to accept this situation. They know how to make demands and be assertive; they are not suckers, gentle and kind people like we were. Is there still reason for optimism? Yes, I'm not going to lose hope. I heard that the prime minister called a meeting of all parties. It is late, but not too late. My optimism stems largely from to the strong desire of Ethiopian immigrants to fully integrate into Israeli society, and therefore it is still not too late to correct what needs to be corrected. Translated by Maya Pelleg.

Ethiopian outcry

Journalist and social activist Tsega Melaku anticipated the cauldron of young Ethiopian protest that has just bubbled over; Now, she explains why we are only at the beginning of the chaos.

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Ethiopian outcry

Journalist and social activist Tsega Melaku anticipated the cauldron of young Ethiopian protest that has just bubbled over; Now, she explains why we are only at the beginning of the chaos.

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