1

Olumba Olumba in Israel — Struggling on all Fronts1

Galia Sabar and Atalia Shragai

Tel Aviv University, Israel

It is not a church, they are a cult...they don't belong to us...they

are a disgrace to Africa, to Christians...look at them, they are so

different. I don't talk with them, I don't want to be with them...I'm

sorry that you are going to visit them...I am angry that so many

Israeli go to visit them thinking they have visited a church... they

are a sect not a church...they are a satanic cult...worse, they

worship a man called Olumba...Not God...I wish your government

would deport all of them...but they are lucky...they have the

protection of your police.

(Pastor A. Boateng, personal communication, May 2002)2

These harsh words against Olumba Olumba (a religious movement, officially

called BCS - Brotherhood of the Cross and the Star) were uttered in 2002 by

a Ghanaian pastor at a meeting held in his office in Tel Aviv. In the room were

several African clergymen and a few Israeli human rights activists, who had

met to explore ways of handling the recent deportation of undocumented

migrant laborers by Israeli authorities. The pastor was clearly disturbed by our

interest in Olumba Olumba sect, or satanic cult as he called them, and tried to

persuade us not to visit them.3

The people in the room were all part of a larger group of sub-Saharan

Africans, who had migrated to Israel in search of work in the early 1990s.4

Although they were subjected to deportation because their stay in the country

was illegal,5 within a very short time they created well-organized communities

centered around African Initiated Churches. These local churches became not

only the main focus of their religious life, but also the heart of their communal,

cultural and political life, providing essential social, emotional and material

assistance.

In labeling BCS a sect, a satanic cult, and a disgrace to Africa, the

Ghanaian pastor was excluding the church and its members from both the

Christian world at large and from the local African Christian community in

2

Israel. The theological condemnation was reinforced with a "civic" grudge

rooted in rumors of preferential treatment BCS members were given by

Israel's immigration police. While all illegal migrants in Israel were living

under a constant threat of deportation during the period in question, Pastor

Boateng believed that BCS enjoyed special immunity, as can be seen in his

remark that "they are lucky...they have the protection of your police." It is

unclear whether or not BCS were indeed protected by Israeli police over the

years, but when deportation was at its peak in 2002-2003 they too were

eventually deported. Yet, all through the 1990s, and up to 2003, the perceived

protection and benefits caused an escalation in the existing tension between

BCS, and other African churches in Tel Aviv, as well as Israeli civic society.

Before explaining the aims of this paper we would like to add a few words

about BCS. The Brotherhood of the Cross and Star (the choice of two of the

principal Christian symbols in the organization's name reflects both the burden

assumed and the reward sought by Olumba's followers) is a religious

movement that was established by a man called Olumba Olumba Obu in the

Nigerian Delta in the early 1950s. One of the fundamental beliefs of the BCS

members is in Olumba's divinity, which puts them in sharp conflict with much

of the Christian world inside Africa and beyond.6 Although considered a

marginal, esoteric and even bizarre cult, BCS grew from a handful of

members to millions of followers within a few decades — mostly in Nigeria

and Ghana, but also in Europe and the United States. A few followers arrived

in Israel in the early 1980s as migrant workers, and established the Israeli

branch of BCS. The branch held regular religious services, organized Bible

study groups, a woman's guild, and a handful of social and welfare

committees. All in all, BCS members socialized very little with other African

migrant laborers in Israel, so that BCS remained their only community of

belonging. At its peak, this branch numbered between 50 and 80 members,

though only about 30 of them were devoted members of the church, which

remained active until 2003, when most of its members were deported.

According to Brauder (1979, 1985) and Lefebvre (1974), a close study of

the daily activities of men and women worldwide is crucial when one tries to

understand not only the everyday reality of human existence but also the

wider social and cultural space in which they occur. Bourdieu, Braudel,

3

Foucault and de Certeau expanded this approach, and claimed that in order

to understand large social structures, such as lineage, or religious and

national communities, one has to shed light on what people say, think and do

in their everyday lives — e.g. when they seek medical assistance, celebrate

significant personal events, visit holy sites or participate in political and social

activities (Foucault 1954, 1975, Bourdieu 1980, de Certeau 1984, Braudel

1995). Though we are aware of the limitations of BCS as an instrument for

understanding other, broad social structures, our research aims to deepen our

knowledge of the growth and operation of BCS in Israel; our case study was

used as the basis for a broader discussion of the ways in which religion

facilitates the construction of migrant communities, and of the role religious

affiliations, institutions and leadership play in internal and external relations in

these communities.

Hence, we shall begin by examining the Brotherhood of the Cross and

Star in Israel, from its establishment in 1984 until its dismantling in 2003.

Based mainly on qualitative research methodology, we shall start by analyzing

the Brotherhood's daily activities.7 Though the emphasis will not be on the

theology of BCS, its main components will indeed be mentioned and explored,

thus giving voice not only to written sources, but also to the way BCS

members explained their theology to us. Our study will initially place special

emphasis on the sway Olumba Olumba held over his followers. We will then

concentrate on interpersonal relations that developed within the BCS

congregation in Israel and on the relations between BCS and other local

African Christian congregations established by African migrant laborers. And

finally, we will analyze the complex relations between BCS and Israeli society,

mainly revolving around relations with the local police, and the ways in which

these relations were perceived by other African migrants. Our study will clarify

the roots of BCS's exclusion from the broader African migrant community in

Israel, from the international migrant community and the local Israeli-Christian

community — exclusion which was not only imposed on them by these other

communities as an act of socio-religious excommunication, but which was to

some extent also self-imposed seclusion.8

Our paper will pay special attention to the last months of the Brotherhood

in Israel when the threat of deportation, with its backdrop of fear and misery,

4

was held over its members' heads. By tracing the ways in which followers

constructed and re-constructed their belief in the likelihood of escaping

deportation within what seemed to be a strict and even coercive religious

organization, we shall highlight the nature and level of the Brotherhood's

control over its members, as well as the rift between theology and everyday

life, between the rhetoric and praxis of official decrees and realpolitik, and

between communality and individuality.

Literature

Recent research on sub-Saharan African migrant laborers in Israel has

focused on several themes, namely their well-organized communities (Kemp

et al. 2000, 2003, Sabar 2004a, 2005), the central role African Initiated

Churches played in the lives of most migrants (Sabar 2004b, 2005, Kanari

2005), and on issues concerning their struggle against state-organized

deportation. (Rozenhek 1999, 2007, Kemp 2004, Worfghatt 2006, Willen

2007).

However, the complexity of the everyday lives of Africans, who were

struggling both internally within their smaller community and externally within

the larger Israeli context, is not reflected in the above-mentioned research.

So far, the existing research on African migrants in Israel has not dealt with

the role of religious rivalries within the African communities; and recent

research about African migrants in Israel has neglected to relate to the

Olumba Olumba followers, perhaps due to their particularity and insignificant

numbers (Sabar 2004b, fn. 26).

Neglecting Olumba is not particular to the Israeli context. Though the

Olumba Olumba Brotherhood was established in Nigeria over fifty years ago

and is considered one of the most rapidly growing, and highly controversial

religious movements in the Christian world, little academic research has

focused on it.9 To the best of our knowledge, the only extensive academic

research on BCS is that of Essien Offiong and Friday M. Mbon. Both are

experts on Nigerian Christianity and their research draws attention to the

unique theological aspects of BCS, the way it was influenced by African

traditional religions, and the central role Olumba has so far played in the

5

Brotherhood. Both researchers mention the missionary zeal of the movement

and examine some of its branches around Africa, including schism processes

within BCS across the continent (Mbon 1984, 1985, 1992, Essien 1987). To

the best of our knowledge only Essien refers to schism in the American

branch of BCS (1987), while Mbon mentions the fact that a BCS follower

came to Israel only in passim (1992, p. 42). Rosalind Hackett on the other

hand analyses BCS as part of a chapter on spiritual churches and indigenous

religious movements in her fascinating book on the religious history of the city

of Calabar, Nigeria. She relates to the main components of the church's

theology and leadership. Hackett emphasizes the religious plurality of Calabar

and calls for a closer analysis of local religious initiatives such as BCS (1989,

pp. 186–192). Finally, one should mention Allan Anderson (2000, 2001), Paul

Gifford (1993) and Ojo Mathews (1998), leading scholars on African

Christianity, all of whom have only briefly mentioned BCS, without engaging in

any in-depth analysis of the church.

This lacuna in the research on BCS in general and the diaspora in

particular is surprising when one considers the growing interest in various

manifestations of African Christianities in the diaspora (Van Dijk 1997, 1999,

2002, Adogame 2001, 2004, 2005, Sabar 2004a, Sabar 2004b, 2005). As

mentioned before, to the best of our knowledge only Essien has briefly

studied BCS in the U.S. while Mbon only succinctly mentions other branches

worldwide (Mbon 1984, 1985). Moreover, considering the growing interest in

present-day allegations of witchcraft, satanic worship, false prophecy,

illegitimate authority, or evil wrongdoings in Africa and within African

communities worldwide (Ciekawy and Geschiere 1988, Hackett 1989,

Geschiere and Nyamnjoh 1998, Adogame 2001, 2005, Frankfurter 2006) the

absence of academic analyses of BCS — which for many years has been

accused of all of the above by other African churches — is even more striking.

African migrant laborers in Israel — historical context

In the early 1990s Israel became an important destination for migrant workers

from all over the world, including Africa. Though governmental decisions

played a key role in encouraging this massive influx of what was envisioned

6

as a cheap and temporary labor force, no clear policy was formulated

regarding the long-term residence of these workers in Israel.10 While many of

the migrant workers came as licensed laborers, thousands more came without

visas, but were nevertheless able to find employment throughout the country.

Among these were thousands of Africans, mainly Nigerians and Ghanaians,

who had left their countries due to economic hardships and political instability.

Soon, Israel became a preferred destination of migration for thousands of

sub-Saharan Africans. Most of them were Christians, who entered Israel with

little difficulty, having obtained pilgrim or tourist visas. Hourly wages for

housecleaning were relatively high; and soon a large network of people who

were already established began helping newcomers in finding employment,

housing, and friends, thus creating what Willen has defined as "inhabitable

spaces of welcome" (2007, intro.). Working in Israel seemed attractive in spite

of all the obstacles, including deportation of undocumented migrant laborers,

which started in the late 1990s.

As most Africans entered the country without a working visa, there are no

official figures of African labor migrants residing in Israel from this time

onward. The general estimation is that by the end of the 1990s, between

10,000 and 14,000 Africans were living in Israel (out of a total of 250,000

international migrant laborers).11 This number fell dramatically when massive

deportation began in 2002; by the beginning of 2007, the estimated number of

Africans was between 1,000 and 2,000, mostly single mothers with children,

whose deportation was temporarily halted due to the lobbying efforts of

human rights organizations. Several hundred others were also spared

deportation by obtaining refugee status through the UN High Commission for

Refugees (Hotline for migrant workers, 2005).

Similarly to other African diaspora communities in Western societies (Van

Dijk 2002, 2003, Adogame 2004, 2005), African migrants in Israel were

marginalized from Israeli society, but nonetheless created for themselves

"inhabitable spaces of welcome," based on an impressive network of informal

associations: national, ethnic, religious and rotating credit associations, labor

unions, sports clubs, and women’s organizations. At the heart of this local

African scene were African Initiated Churches (Sabar 2004b, 2005). By the

year 2000 about 40 African churches, mostly Pentecostal and Evangelical,

7

had been established by African migrants in Israel, with membership numbers

ranging from a handful to a few hundred. Nearly all African migrants in Israel

were affiliated with, though not necessarily devoted members of, a church.

Churches served both individual members and the community of migrant

laborers as a whole — not only on a spiritual level, but also as an anchor of

belonging, a provider of emotional and practical support (Sabar 2004b, 2007).

Despite being an African church operating in Israel, BCS and its

members were excluded from this vibrant Afro-Christian community. The

rationale behind this exclusion was twofold: the church's controversial

theology, and the fact that most African migrants in Israel believed BCS had

questionable or dubious relations with the Israeli police. Tensions between

BCS and the larger community of African migrants were heightened against a

background of deportations and stress that characterized the period from

2000 onward, ultimately highlighting the linkage between religious and civic

life in the African community in Israel. The following will illustrate this twofold

basis of exclusion.

BCS in Israel

The antagonism towards BCS in Israel, their exclusion, and self-imposed

separatism has historical and theological roots. As already mentioned, BCS

was established in the Nigerian Delta in the late 1950s by Olumba Olumba

Obu, literally "the word of God;" ultimately, the personal history of Olumba and

that of the Brotherhood became inextricable.12 From a handful of members in

the 1950s, the number had grown to more than 6.5 million by the mid-1990s.13

Olumba Olumba (or OO as he is often called) is considered by his

followers as "God on earth," the manifestation of the Holy Trinity — God the

Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit — in one African persona.14 His personal

charisma, people's belief in his healing powers and performance of miracles,

together with his innovative interpretation of Christian theology, are the basis

of BCS's power.15 Yet, these very same elements have led many other

Christians, in Africa and elsewhere, to see the Brotherhood as a heretic sect,

a Satanic cult, and to call for its eradication. (Hackett 1989).

8

In spite of this hostility BCS built a huge center in the city of Calabar in

Nigeria. Today, it is a vast compound consisting of prayer halls and healing

pavilions, a school and printing house, an active website and visitors' center.

According to the local Calabar press, Sunday services attract thousands of

followers today.16

Gradually, a transnational perspective was adopted and BCS branches

were opened around the world, mainly in the U.S. and Western Europe.17

Such proliferation not only reflected Olumba’s missionary zeal, but also

served as a means for him to physically remove strong and opinionated

members from Calabar. Indeed, the various branches worldwide showed

various degrees of loyalty to Olumba, from total obedience to complete

schism.18

Such was the case with the branch in Israel, founded in 1984 by African

followers of Olumba who had come to Israel to look for work.19 From the

testimony of several followers we learned that many of the early BCS

migrants were supported and influenced by Olumba's daughter, thus turning

BCS into a central component of their migration experience. She herself

returned to Nigeria, but some of her father's loyal assistants, who had

followed her to Israel, remained, amongst them Pastor Antonie, originally from

Nigeria.20 When Pastor Antonie came to Israel after being ordained a BCS

clergyman in Calabar; he was considered a student of Olumba himself. The

Israeli branch of BCS was established under his leadership. It was amongst

the first African churches established in Tel Aviv and its founders were

amongst the first sub-Saharan Africans to arrive in Israel prior to the massive

influx of international labor migrants.

The first members were mainly men from Nigeria and Ghana, who

remained in the majority, although they were later joined by members from

Cameroon, and even Sri Lanka.21 The vast majority of BCS members came to

Israel as Olumba followers, while only a handful converted locally. From the

very beginning as devoted members of this unique religious movement, they

followed a clearly set path. In this, they were different from other African

migrants, who often chose churches unlike the ones they had belonged to in

Africa — either for practical reasons or because their churches of origin were

not represented in Israel. 22

9

The first prayer meetings were led by Pastor Antonio and held at

members' rented rooms, using OO prayer books. Soon the leadership

expanded, as local members, both men and women, were being ordained in

Israel. From the very beginning, local leadership was being set up in a clear,

hierarchical structure.23 A pastor headed the congregation, assisted by

pastors, deacons and deaconesses, apostles, officers, a general secretary,

and a treasurer, a choir and heads of committees. The official constitution of

the church forbade the partaking of alcohol, smoking, and pre- or extramarital

sex. From the very start there was a high level of commitment and religious

zeal. The money needed for maintaining the church, buying basic equipment,

and paying rent for the church premises often totaled several thousand

dollars. All of it came out of members’ savings since the local church received

no financial assistance from the center in Calabar. On the contrary, whenever

possible they even sent money to support the center. The rapid pace at which

the church established itself and the fact that from the very beginning it had a

clear hierarchy and sense of community, and explicit regulations was in sharp

contrast to what characterized all other African Initiated Churches in Israel

(Sabar 2005).

Unlike the other African churches in Tel Aviv, where women constituted

the majority in communities that also included many families, most BCS

members were men and included two or three families only. This perhaps

testifies to the fact that BCS members were financially unable to bring their

families to Israel or to establish families locally. At the start of our fieldwork

with BCS in 2000, there were approximately 50–80 members in the

community, but the number slowly declined until the closing of the branch in

2003.

Theology and geography of the sacred space — roots of external and

self-imposed exclusion

Unlike for other Africans who came to look for work in the Holy Land and

subsequently joined one of the existing churches, the religious dimension of

BCS was a central component in the migration experience of its followers. As

indicated earlier, they established an independent religious space immediately

11

upon their arrival in Israel. In other words, they did not make an initial attempt

to join the local Arab-Israeli Christian community nor did they join other

African labor migrants who worshipped in previously established African

Initiated Churches. In other words, from the very beginning, BCS created a

dividing line between themselves and all other Christians, thus establishing an

isolated BCS island in Tel Aviv, and neglecting to relate to either the African

Christian community that was being established or the general local African

community.

Beside some adaptations to everyday life in Israel, such as shifting the

day of rest from Sunday (which is a regular workday in Israel) to Saturday,

BCS rituals and daily life adhered as closely as possible to those of BCS in

Calabar. Clothing, decorations of prayer halls, and books were all imported

from Nigeria. The members declared that they were following well-established

paths and had to adhere to the BCS model. Along with the material culture of

the church, BCS members also imported from Africa patterns of self-imposed

exclusion from other African Christian groups and, at times, experiences and

memories of persecution at the hands of other African Christians.

Stories about the tense relations between BCS and the rest of the

African churches were frequently reported to us, both by BCS members and

by other Christian Africans. Thoughts such as the one expressed by a young

Ghanaian, member of Resurrection and Living Bread Ministry Church,… "We

don't mix with them [other African migrants], they are not like us" (Akwesi,

personal communication, 2000) or "We hate them...they are not Christians...I

would say they are not like most Africans" (Benson, personal communication,

1999) — were quite common. In this respect, the Israeli experience followed

exactly the same patterns as those of BCS elsewhere, transplanting power

relations and religious dynamics from back home. The African arena in Israel

reflected the discourse about who had the right to define whom as Christian,

and challenge others as non-Christians. The politics of religious identity

"migrated" from Nigeria with the migrants themselves, positioning the BCS

members at the margins of African Christian society from the very

beginning.24

It seems clear that in Israel too, the root cause of BCS's exclusion from

the African Christian community was indeed of a theological-epistemological

11

nature. The issue at the heart of the controversy was the fact that they

worshipped a man — Olumba Olumba Obu — as God. An additional source

of conflict was the fact that Olumba Olumba religious rites incorporated

practices that resembled African native religious practices, namely an

extensive use of healing sessions, and of ornaments and objects such as

water, oil, and bowls. All this was part of BCS's attempt to ward off evil forces,

or to seek one's fortune in daily undertakings.25 More than anything else,

these two factors caused most other Africans to associate OO with a sect, or

even a "satanic cult."

At this point it is important to distinguish between two main arguments

used by the larger African migrant community in the discourse connecting

Olumba Olumba and Satan. The first is that when the followers of other

African churches knew that BCS members conducted special healing

sessions on a daily basis – a fact that was also given credence to by some

segments of Jewish Israeli society (mainly the police) — they concluded that

OO was under the influence of evil powers or beings. This strengthened their

belief that BCS did not represent a "proper" type of Christianity and must,

according to the missionaries' propaganda, therefore be linked with Satan.

The second argument is that the accusation of being a satanic cult related

to BCS's worshipping of a human being as God. For those non-BCS African

Christians, OO was identified as the Antichrist, the Satan. For us, both as

researchers and outsiders, this second argument would seem less logical as it

in fact exalted OO in such a way as to turn him into a much weightier person

than his opponents found agreeable. Our data show that the allegation was

loud and clear, despite the fact we cannot state with any degree of certainty

which of these arguments, or any other, was most prevalent. After all, BCS

members in Israel did not make any effort to hide the unique position of

Olumba, or their healing sessions and power. As John, a church member,

said, "You should know that the Father [Olumba] is God and I came to Israel

to serve him. For me, to serve the God [i.e. Olumba] is a great thing." (John,

personal communication, 2003). Martin, another church member claimed that

"For us he is everything...he tells us what to do, how to do things...what is

right and what is wrong...He helps us heal people...our pastors heal so

many...Nothing else really matters...no books, no preaching...It his him alone,"

12

(Martin, personal communication, 2002). Martin and John not only proclaimed

their belief in Olumba's omnipotent powers and divinity, but also clearly stated

that nothing else mattered to them. However, all members resented being

called a sect or a cult, and above all a satanic cult.

While visiting Tel Aviv in 1999, Olumba's son and official successor,

Roland, was asked to elaborate on the Brotherhood’s doctrine that proclaimed

Olumba's immortality and divinity and to specifically relate to his fathers'

current health. He said, "The Brotherhood of the Cross and Star is not a sect,

neither a cult. It is neither a church, nor it is a secret society. It is the long

awaited kingdom of God."26 The BCS website also provides insights into this

doctrine, as can be gathered from the unequivocal response to a question we

posted concerning Olumba’s divinity:

Dear Atalia. The movements' hymns are very explicit saying:

"Father, Son and the Holy Spirit, All three persons in one, Cometh

down to earth now to live...In human form," you probably didn't

browse well...[if you would], you would have also seen the

Father's picture, and there is nothing like old OLUMBA and new

OLUMBA. The Father and Son are one, when you see the Father

you have seen the Son, when you also see the Son you have the

Father, and GOD doesn't die, GOD is Ominipotent, Ominipresent,

Ominiscience, He is everywhere, you can see Him in Tel Aviv if

you so desire, all you need do is to pray for Him to reveal Himself

to you. Do browse again and you will see His picture too. His

Holiness, the King of Kings and Lord of Lords is the Chairman of

BCS Executive Council and Head of Administration BCS World

Wide.27

Our research clearly indicated that BCS theology served not only as

the main justification for its exclusion by other Christians, but also as a form of

self-imposed seclusion from the wider African community in Israel. BCS

members positioned themselves as the first Christians directly connected to

the living God, making them both superior to and detached from other African

Christians. "We are not part of them, we are different in so many ways," said

one of the followers in response to a query about joint ventures with other

African churches (Morris, personal communication, 2000).

13

This feeling of superiority was not only expressed rhetorically, emotionally

and theologically, but could also be seen in the separate physical space they

shared only with other BCS members, and in their daily routine. They

surrounded themselves with clearly demarcated borders, thus separating

themselves physically and emotionally from the rest of the African community.

They insisted on renting their own apartments, refrained from visiting other

Africans, or eating with them. They refused to send their children to baby-

sitting services run by African women in Tel Aviv and kept the "community

kids" with their own members (Pastor Antonio, personal communication,

March 2001). Publicly, male members of the church had no social relations

with non-Olumba females, nor did female members come into contact with

non-Olumba males.

In the wider Israeli public sphere, as well as within the African migrant

one, OO members stood out with their unique dress code, which included

white robes and white hats, worn to church and on special holidays or

events.28 They considered this simple dress as an additional signifier of their

superiority — a sign of their purity and modesty, in contrast to other people's

vulgar materialism.

Several other features distinguished them from the rest of the African

churches in Israel, thus enhancing their self-imposed seclusion. Though their

sacred space was located in a rundown building in southern Tel Aviv, like that

of most other African Initiated Churches, it stood out by reason of its unique

physical inner space and atmosphere. First, OO members referred to their hall

as "Bethel" — literally the "house of God" in Hebrew. OO was the only African

church in Israel to use this term. This linguistic separateness was but one of

the exceptional features of their house of God in Israel. Unlike other African

churches, which had an open door policy, BCS were suspicious towards any

African who wished to join their Bethel. Not many Africans tried to enter, but

those who did were usually scrutinized very closely and placed in the back

with one member at either side of them at any given time. To the best of our

knowledge fewer than five members of BCS had left their own denomination

to join the church in Israel.

Unique physical features were also emphasized: the Bethel itself was

entirely white, including curtains, walls, and chairs, as was the members'

14

dress. In the center of the hall was a white altar with red ribbons and flowers.

Two pictures of Olumba and his son Rolland hung above the main altar,

entitled "The Sole Spiritual Head of the Universe." Against the eastern wall

stood an additional altar, smaller than the central one; the former was used

only for testimonies and Bible reading. In front of the altar stood a wooden

donation box, and near the entrance a small glass booth decorated with

plastic flowers and pictures of Olumba. The members called this booth

"heaven," and used it during the month of Pentecost.29 One could not discern

any pictures of Jesus in the Bethel, and the only cross that was visible was

the one in the Brotherhood symbol. The Bethel was decorated according to

the BCS universal model, and was similar to all the other Bethels of BCS

around the world. This modesty stood in sharp contrast with other African

churches in Tel Aviv, which displayed their wealth in elaborate and ornate

decor.

The Bethel commanded a serious and weighty atmosphere. There was

no room for spontaneity, sitting was pre-assigned according to rank, personal

clothes were covered with white robes, and most people whispered rather

than talked. Unlike in other African services and religious gatherings, the

atmosphere during church services, ceremonies, and other celebrations was

usually very strict. Singing was a capella — both traditional African

instruments and modern ones, such as the electric guitar and the synthesizers

commonly found in other African churches, were strictly forbidden. "Jesus

didn't use drums," said one member, implying that they were his true (and

only) successors.

The last part of the service, dedicated to testimonies, personal prayer and

singing, was the only space where members were allowed to freely express

themselves. It was only at this point that a more joyous singing could be

heard, almost cathartic in nature. This singing was combined with dancing —

the movements were the traditional ones of the Brotherhood, not ecstasy of

the whole body as in trance, but waving the hands up and down, in a manner

of "pulling power from the universe into the body" (Pastor Danqua, personal

communication, 2002).

At the end of most ceremonies a small feast was organized, including

fruits, vegetables and water. Personal testimonies on dreams, desires and

15

other issues took place during the feast. Some of these expressions of

personal spiritual belief were short and laconic, praising God with the words,

"Thanks to God for bringing me back and forth to work in peace," while others

were long and emotional, relating to the harsh reality of their lives as migrant

laborers. Other African churches had special meals prepared to celebrate

personal events such as birthdays, baby naming, but none had this type of

ritual.

Leadership, ordination and healing — additional components of

uniqueness

As mentioned earlier, the first leader of the BCS branch in Israel came from

Nigeria as an ordained priest, and from the very beginning started to expand

the local leadership. In this process too, the Israeli branch of BCS was unique

in comparison to other local churches and other BCS branches in the

diaspora. BCS members faced travel restrictions,30 so that each year a list of

members asking to be ordained to an official position in the Israeli branch was

mailed to Calabar. Olumba would send back his orders to Tel Aviv, and the

members would perform the ordination ceremonies themselves. Unlike in

other local African churches, the ordination had nothing to do with learning or

with promotion within church hierarchy, but was based on Olumba's decisions

regarding individuals, and were proclaimed at annual meetings.

Pastor Danqua, one of the main leaders of the Israeli branch elaborated

on the process saying, "We don't have to study anything because we're doing

everything spiritually, and it's all in the Father's hand...When I was ordained

his eyes were imbedded in mine, among the thousands that were present in

the event, and he called me 'son'." (personal communication, 2002)31 The

other branch officials, five male pastors and one deaconess, were elected in

Israel. Since scholarship was not a criterion for ordination, they did not join

other Africans who studied in local theological seminars. Assisting the Israeli

BCS branch officials were two members who were nominated as Evangelical

Apostles to carry out missionary work throughout the country.32 All officials

carried out their pastoral duties after finishing their daily cleaning jobs in

Israeli houses, offices, and restaurants.

16

The ordination ceremonies themselves were also distinctive. Since the

landscape in Tel Aviv is different from that of Calabar, the local followers

altered Calabar rituals in a way that positioned the Mediterranean Sea at the

center of the ceremonies. In what was to become the last ordination

ceremony in Tel Aviv, Pastor Danqua and Esther, the deaconess, led the

believers from the Bethel to the beach of Tel Aviv. The ceremony started with

Pastor Danqua entering the water in his underclothes, soon followed by the

baptized. They dipped their heads three times while Danqua prayed. At the

time, the beach was fairly crowded and the ordination caused quite a stir

among onlookers. Many stood on the shore and gazed at the rather bizarre

scene — a group of African men and women bathing with their clothes,

dipping their heads with the support of another man, praying and singing in an

unfamiliar language. Some passed remarks, others took pictures and still

others simply gazed. The Brotherhood members didn't seem to mind. After

dipping and praying they went back to the Bethel on the other side of the city,

and there the deacons handed out water blessed by Olumba to the newly

ordained. Blessed oil from Calabar was then rubbed onto their heads.

Though baptizing in the Jordan River is a common scene in Israel and many

local and international churches practice it, no one has a ceremony similar to

that of BCS.

BCS healing practices also distinguished the group from other local

African churches. As in other "prophet-healing" churches, healing was a key

element of BCS worship, performed mostly through prayer (Anderson 2000).

While the chief healer was Olumba, who had started his career this way,

many of his followers were also known for their healing skills. In Israel,

Olumba's followers practiced these skills both within and outside the Bethel,

usually ministering to other followers. The healing was performed almost daily

through prayer, laying hands over the healed person, or rubbing sacred water

blessed by Olumba and kept in sacred bowls.

Hope, a member of the Tel Aviv Branch was known as Spirited Child,

meaning she was a healer. She had come from Nigeria with this gift and used

it to heal other members of the Tel Aviv Bethel. She linked her powers to an

event in her childhood that had led to a unique meeting with Olumba:

17

In 1984 I was toward the end of high school, near Calabar,

Nigeria. I was under a lot of pressure due to the final exams, and

felt like I'm loosing my mind. One day I started screaming

'Olumba, Olumba'. They wanted to take me to the mental hospital,

but I ask to be taken to the Brotherhood center. Then, Olumba

healed me. I had a vision of him on a white horse, and he poured

holy water on me, like the blood that flowed from Jesus's body. I

stayed there for couple of months till I was able to go back to

school.

(Hope, personal communication, 2002)

In the healing process, Hope would write the symbol OO on water,

symbolizing Olumba's Omnipotence. The patient would then drink the blessed

water. This ceremony was accompanied by special prayers. Hope also healed

people through her dreams. Although she practised various healing methods,

she insisted that prayer was the strongest and most effective one.

For other members of the community, Olumba's healing powers

transcended specific acts of healing. As claimed in one of the church's

publications, they believed that he, like God, could create a new man. "I was

very sick, and almost deaf. One night, the Leader came to operate me. My

hair and nails were removed, along with my skin. The Leader took new skin

with hair and nails out of a small bag and dressed me in it. He blew into my

lungs, put his fingers in my ears and asked me to stand on my feet. When he

removed his fingers from my ears — I've became a live person" (Antia, p. 61)

The healing powers of Olumba and his followers were well known to

many Africans living in Tel Aviv. Some mocked them, others dismissed them,

but many feared them and even labeled them satanic. None seemed

surprised when asked about Olumba's healing powers and some even related

to the fact that "in Africa we have all kinds of beliefs and many people have

special powers...this is part of our tradition (Dennis, personal communication,

2001). One interviewee even said that just by being part of Olumba you

"automatically become something else."33 This feature attracted new

members, like Sara, who had left the Methodist church after her mother was

cured indirectly by Olumba through one of his healers:

"My Mom was very sick. Our neighbor was a Brotherhood

member, and was known as healer. We went to get a medicine,

18

but he said that nothing helped, unless we join the Brotherhood.

We did. He said a prayer for my Mom and the sickness passed.

Since then we can't leave the Brotherhood, cause we believe that

Olumba did everything for us."

(Sara, personal communication, 2003).

From her testimony we learned that she knew about the Brotherhood and

its unique healing powers prior to joining it, and had asked for their assistance

in times of crisis. However, her words did also indicate that there was a strong

fear that if you left the church, Olumba would stop protecting you and would

even harm you. This fear was well rooted in Tel Aviv in spite of the physical

distance from the center in Nigeria.

Civic roots of exclusion

While theological doctrine, religious rituals, and social and cultural practices of

BCS were the primary causes of the excommunication of church members

from the larger community of African migrants in Israel, the rationale for

excommunication was further reinforced by "civic" grudges. The grudges

were rooted in rumors of preferential treatment BCS members received from

Israeli civic authorities. As said, BCS members were often called "friends of

Satan," an allusion not only to biblical evil, but also to the deportation police.

Indeed, special relations with the Israeli civic authorities dated back to the

very first days of this community's presence in Tel Aviv. When we attempted

to trace the roots of this unique relationship, it became clear to us that the

distinctive rituals and practices of BCS drew the attention of many local

Israelis, including journalists and some police units. What is intriguing,

however, is not the curiosity it aroused, but rather how the belief in Olumba's

special powers penetrated Israeli consciousness, so that even tour guides

began planning stops at the Bethel. "They have special powers...I'm not sure

exactly what...I don't really care...all I know is that they do things to people,

some good, some bad and it works," one young tour guide told the tourists in

front of the BCS church, trying to explain the reason for visiting this specific

church.34

Thought the roots of the belief in the BCS's privileged relations with the

local police are not clear, we found that rumors concerning the origins of this

19

special status circulated as early as the mid-1990s among local Africans

beyond the church membership. Some believed that the Brotherhood

members had used their special powers to heal the son of a high-ranking

police officer in Tel Aviv. According to this story, the son of the officer was

close to death when a member of BCS prayed for him and healed him. In

return, it was believed that BCS members were all given preferential

treatment from the local police, including immunity from any kind of arrest or

deportation.35 The Brotherhood neither affirmed nor denied the story, but

admitted that from time to time they went to hospitals to perform healing

ceremonies at the "request of Israelis."

In an attempt to further clarify this story, we asked local policemen about

it — all of them denied it. Some claimed that in the mid-1990s the police were

"looking for a cooperative African church to make it 'our home church' for

visits," and that the Brotherhood had been very cooperative and was therefore

considered "suitable."36 The visitors were attached to various Israeli

governmental bodies, such as the police, the SHABAK (the Israeli secret

service), and other government offices. Over the years, visiting the Bethel

became part of a "grand tour of multicultural Tel Aviv-Jaffa," as one brochure

read. International and national visitors, including military officers in training,

police cadets, journalists, and others, were taken on a tour that included a

Russian brothel, a Rumanian kiosk and, as a grand finale, dancing in an

African church, the BCS Bethel. In the years 1998–2001, when large numbers

of foreign workers came to Israel, no immunity was necessary because

deportation was rather sporadic, and the police turned a blind eye on most

illegal migrants. But the daily presence of Israeli officials, sometimes in

uniform, was enough to give BCS members a sense of superiority and

protection,37 and to raise suspicions toward them by the rest of the African

churches.

Between belief and reality — BCS in Tel Aviv at the time of deportation

Following a government decision to deport all undocumented migrant workers

from the country, stepped-up deportation began in 2002. The massive arrests

and deportation drastically changed the lives of all migrants, including of

21

Africans. The effect on their daily lives was severe. Many gave vent to a

profound sense of fear, agony, anger, and confusion. But Monica, one of the

BCS deaconesses, had this to say:

For me the Brotherhood is life...it is heaven...Every day I come. I

have so many duties I need to perform...I get my powers directly

from him (pointing to the picture of Olumba on the wall) he calls

me and tells me what to do, where to go and how to live my life...I

hear the radio, I see TV, I talk to other people and I know what is

going on in Tel Aviv...but only he will tell me what to do. If he tells

me to go I will go...if he tells me to stay I will stay...Your police will

not be able to do anything to me as he will protect me...I'm not

naïve, don't look at me like that...this is so strong in

me...everybody here will tell you just the same...We are his

children, he brought us here and he will guide us through these

difficult days...Look, every day we have new members coming

in...everybody knows we are unique ...we trust him and we do

what he says…all of us do it...he is our sole provider and

protector. (Monica, Testimony service 2002)

Her words were clear. Her voice was strong, as was her body language. She

was standing in the center of the BCS hall in Tel Aviv, even after everyone

else had left, and continued talking to us. However, her words did not echo

what was actually going on in the streets of Tel Aviv, namely, the daily

deportations and the fear that blighted the lives of undocumented migrant

workers.

Moreover, her words did not in any way reflect the ongoing debate in

which African migrants in Tel Aviv, including BCS followers, were engaged,

namely whether they should leave the country or not. Her words reflected no

debate or uncertainty, nor did they reveal a sense of hostility or exclusion from

the larger community. Her words hinted to BCS feelings of superiority and

power as well as detachment and self-imposed dissociation from the reality of

the larger migrant workers' lives.

The privileged status of BCS within the Israeli civic sphere — real or

imagined — reinforced the Brotherhood's exclusion from the entire African

community in Israel. Thus, a fascinating link between their healing skills and

the circumstances of their continued survival in Israel in the midst of

21

deportation was created. As they were excluded and castigated by other

Africans, the BCS members indeed tried to strengthen alliances with Israeli

groups and individuals. Even at the beginning of 2002, the Bethel leaders still

planned daily schedules for visitors, and urged the church's members to

attend them for the sake of BCS. Leaders of BCS made a point to include

healing sessions in almost all meetings, so visitors would experience these

powers first-hand. As a marginal group cast out by all other African migrants,

they used everything in their power, including the Israeli visitors' belief in their

healing powers, including police officers who visited the church, to gain some

measure of security and advantage over what they saw as their adversaries

— namely the other African migrant groups and the migration police.

Whether or not the Brotherhood did in fact collaborate with the

deportation police, an accusation that they rejected offhand, their long-lasting

and congenial relationship with the police did not save them from the threat of

deportation. BCS members eventually faced the same fate as other Africans

who had been living and working without permits in Tel Aviv.

Unison versus plurality — deportations exacerbate internal conflicts

In the summer of 2003, Israel toughened its deportation policy. Although no

one was excluded and each non-documented African migrant was under daily

threats of arrest and deportation, BCS members still regarded themselves as

protected, "thanks to Olumba's powers" (Monica, Testimony service 2002).

Or, as Henry worded his strong feelings of being protected:

I had a dream: there was a big fight between policemen and a

migrant worker from Africa. I've shouted 'don't kill the man.' When

he stood on his feet I told him 'Don't do it again.' The next day I

had the same vision. Today I saw policemen running after people,

They've thrown a man down from his bicycle. But none of them

approached me." (Henry, testimony service, summer 2003)

Though acknowledging the brutality of ongoing deportation, Henry did not

think he himself was in danger. On the contrary, he felt that this was not his

destiny, but rather that of others. John, a fellow BCS member, shared this

notion:

22

We're working [for] God, not the police. We're not afraid at all

because we have complete confidence in Olumba, he says that

the Israeli government will acknowledge us. (John, personal

communication, summer 2003)

Hope, with her well-known visionary powers, said:

Whatever I dream — comes true. I've dreamed about detentions,

but when the police see that we [are] dressed in white — they

release us. Olumba protects us. (Hope, personal communication,

summer 2003)

Both John and Hope clearly believed in a link between being a follower of

Olumba and being saved by the Israeli government. Expanding the space of

protection to include the Bethel itself, Isaac said:

I went to the Central Station in Tel Aviv. I saw policemen arresting

many people. I went through them but they didn't catch me. I've

understood that God is with me and that I have to thank him. I've

understood that if I'll stay at my home something will happen to

me [being arrested], thus I have to be in the Brotherhood [church]

and thank God. God is watching us like a mother upon her

children. (Isaac, personal communication, summer 2003)

Yet, Monica’s idealized sense of empowerment, as well as that of Hope,

Isaac and John, masked a more complex reality. Alongside BCS members

who publicly broadcasted a feeling of being protected, many privately began

weighing their options in the wave of deportations. As we will show, once

BCS's sense of security proved to be false, the cracks in the belief that they

were forever protected by OO led to a series of deviations from church

doctrine, to fierce struggles, and finally to a complete collapse of this unique

congregation.

While we do not know definitively whether BCS did indeed at some point

enjoy special immunity with regard to deportation, we do know that individual

followers were not arrested separately on Tel Aviv's streets, or during night

raids on their apartments like all other African Christian congregations.

Instead, the police assisted in organizing a collective departure of the African

members of BCS. This was the culmination of a process that began when

deportation police officers met the Brotherhood leaders in August 2003.

23

During the meeting, which was one in a series of meetings the police held

with all African leaders, the Brotherhood was told to leave the country.

Some of the local BCS leaders tried to convince the police to let them

stay, while others realized it was a lost battle and asked for six months to get

organized. Both requests were turned down. The police indicated that the

Brotherhood had two months to leave, just like all other non-documented

migrant workers. From the police reaction it seemed that the special privileges

enjoyed by BCS had either come to an end or had altogether been imagined.

Either way, the real or imagined protection did not survive the toughening

actions of the police and the daily arrests on the streets of Tel Aviv that

characterized the final phases of deportation.

Is Olumba truly omnipotent? Is the BCS Community truly unified? or

The brutal breakup of BCS in the wake of deportation

Within a month, like a straw hut hit by a storm, the Brotherhood collapsed. It

seems to us, however, that this collapse echoed a larger ongoing struggle

within the local Israeli-African community and within BCS worldwide.

Deportation exacerbated inner conflicts and authority crises that up till then

had been under control or hidden altogether.

After his meeting with the deportation police, the local leader contacted

headquarters in Calabar and asked for help and instructions. The response

that came by fax was insultingly succinct - "Don't mess with the Israeli

authorities. LEAVE." (According to pastor Antonie, personal communication,

summer 2003)This reply, without any words of comfort, signs of grief or

shared agony came as a surprise. Some members of the community were

deeply offended. The abrupt message left no space for individual decision-

making, and stood in sharp conflict with the personal agendas of most BCS

members. "I need more money...I have to work a few more months," said one

of the members when asked about his decision not to leave (David, personal

communication, 2003). "I'm not yet prepared...I have not saved enough, I

have not even paid all my debts to come here," said Abraham, one of the

church elders (Abraham, personal communication, 2003). They, like a few

24

others, were not ready to leave, and wanted to stay in order to work and save

more money.

Indeed, as early as 2000, Olumba Olumba's authority and the future of

the Brotherhood was challenged on a daily basis. This was due to Olumba's

age and increasing frailty, as well as to the growing autonomous power BCS

churches around Nigeria and elsewhere had accumulated over the years.

From the beginning of the year 2000, growing numbers of frictions, breakaway

churches and inner tensions were being reported in the Nigerian daily press.38

Israel was no exception; indeed, the same conflicts that marked the BCS

church in Israel also hounded BCS branches worldwide.

Considering both Olumba's charisma and the changing dynamics of

power and authority within the BCS leadership in Nigeria and abroad, one of

the main issues we attempted to explore in the Israeli context (when

deportation was at its height) was the degree and nature of control the

Brotherhood had over its members. We tried to explore Olumba's power over

his believers in Israel, as well as its limitations. Following Foucault (1954,

1975) and Bourdieu (1986), who elaborated on hierarchical constructions and

the limitations of power, we traced these issues as a basis for our

understanding of the role of religious leaders in general, particularly within a

migratory context.

Following the aloof and sharp response of the BCS headquarters in

September 2003, a serious conflict arose within the Brotherhood between

those in favor of leaving and those opposed to it. The struggle was in many

ways similar to other struggles that took place within the larger African-

Christian communities in Tel Aviv and in individual African families in Israel.

For BCS members, the division was based not only on the "true" interpretation

of Olumba's message, but also on the question of his authority. The dilemma

was real and painful, mainly because Olumba’s message and authority stood

in sharp contrast to many members’ personal agendas.

A close analysis of the debate that developed allows us to re-examine

and challenge the general assumptions of BCS followers about the

omnipotent power that Olumba exercised over his followers and the cohesive

nature of their community. Were they really obedient servants? Did the

25

Brotherhood and its leader suppress all personal willpower? Did the belief in

Olumba's Godliness overcome all individual thoughts, ideas, and aspirations?

Together with a handful of other BCS officials, the head pastor in Israel

called for a quick and elegant closure of the church. They urged all members

to go home as a group and insisted that the Bethel, including its furniture and

other belongings, be shipped to Callabar. The head pastor maintained that a

true Olumba follower had to obey the leader's orders and that there was no

way of circumventing these orders.

However, other voices emerged, calling on members to reconsider the

request that they leave at once. These voices, originating mainly from the

lower ranks of the Brotherhood hierarchy, including local prophets and

spiritual leaders, insisted that Olumba's powers would protect those who

chose to stay and that his Godly powers would save them from the threat of

deportation. At the beginning of this crisis, all leaders, both those calling for a

quick return home and those calling for the followers to remain in Israel,

claimed to be following Olumba's orders. The head pastor insisted that the fax

had left no other option, while others claimed that leaving the country was an

act of disgrace and a display of distrust in Olumba's omnipotence. "He will

save us if we stay," said one of the local prophets (Martin, personal

communication, October 2003). Moreover, those calling upon their brothers

and sisters to stay claimed that going back was a kind of heresy and called

members to wait passively for God's salvation. At the height of the long public

debate, Samson, one of the prophets, warned Head Pastor Antonie that

Olumba would curse him because his actions, encouraging people to leave,

were a sign of disbelief. It seemed that the theological crisis was indeed deep

and painful.

Against the background of this theological dispute and religious

discourse, another discourse could be heard, namely a discourse about

money, savings, dreams, and individuality. Some claimed that Pastor Antonie

and his supporters had saved enough, having been in Israel for a number of

years, and that for them going back was therefore a reasonable option.

Others, however, were relatively poor, hardly having saved anything; for them

returning home would spell financial disaster. Moreover, at one point, some

followers claimed that no human being is superior to others, and that any

26

individual’s interpretation of Olumba's words was as good as anyone else's.

These arguments were never at the forefront of the debate, but remained

hidden and almost secretive; they nonetheless revealed much tension within

the Brotherhood. The external tension permeated the Brotherhood as a

community and each and every member as an individual, ultimately

destroying the strong cohesiveness that had been built over the years and

had been presented as such to outsiders.

It seems that the leadership of Olumba, as well as his apparent

omnipotence, had been severely challenged by the fall of 2003. Members no

longer blindly accepted his word and even dared "take his name in vain."

Reality, refuting mythological and theological belief, had revealed Olumba’s

limited powers and authority over his followers. Thus, when Olumba’s orders

were in conflict with individual will and personal interest, his words were

simply reinterpreted to suit the member's needs. No one talked openly about a

dissolution of belief, or a theological crisis, but rather about confusion,

misunderstanding, and misery.

Regardless of the nature of their final decision, all BCS members

justified the actions they took as exercising Olumba's will. If they favored

staying in Israel, like Henry and Abraham (quoted above), they claimed that

"we're in the hands of God, not the government. The government is worldly.

We leave everything to Olumba" (Henry, personal communication, October

2003). Or, if they decided to leave they justified this by saying, "Maybe

something bad is about to happen and that's why God [via Olumba] is taking

us" (Hope, personal communication, October 2003).

As the forced journey back home came nearer, the Brotherhood as a

community of friendship and support, as a source of empowerment and

comfort, weakened. The socio-religious community that had unified people

from different countries and had risen above national identities and cultural

biases began to disintegrate. Once the cohesiveness of BCS broke apart,

national, ethnic and other bases of identity became far more significant.

Thus, Nigerian followers of Olumba contacted other Nigerians in an attempt to

coordinate their trip home, as did other groups of nationals. Financial

considerations began to dominate decision-making. Sharing the cost of

containers dictated how and when individuals left and under what conditions.

27

Practical financial considerations brought together "followers of a Satanic cult"

with "regular" Pentecostals. The daily realities, harsh economic constraints

and fear of deportation and arrest gave rise to practical thoughts and actions.

These in turn linked together people who just weeks before had viewed each

other as the "ultimate other" and had sat on either side of an unmarked fence.

It seems that once Olumba members were revealed to be as vulnerable and

miserable as all the others, satanic accusations and cult-related mysteries

gave way to acceptance, however superficial and temporary.

In the weeks prior to departure no one talked about Olumba's magical

powers or satanic practices, nor did anyone mention his omnipotence.

Needless to say, no one mentioned any special relations with the local police

forces. Following Foucault, we may say that the cruel realities, as well as the

banality of everyday life dominated the scene and that such mundane realities

now dictated a new agenda. Moreover, hardly any BCS members attended

the Bethel as they felt that it no longer provided them with spiritual comfort

and practical help. The fear of being arrested on the street was stronger than

the need for the Brotherhood's support.

In an attempt to avoid any aggressive public conflict, the Brotherhood

officials declared at the end of September 2003 that each member was free to

choose his own way and "follow his own heart." Thus, the local BCS

leadership acknowledged a changing reality and ultimately surrendered to the

will and desires of individual members. As a last act of leadership, they

decided to ship most of the church furniture to Olumba's center in Calabar,

thus on the one hand reinforcing their loyalty to Olumba and, on the other,

affecting the ability of those remaining to open a new Bethel.

The last religious service

The last religious service of the Israeli branch of BCS took place in November

2003. It was emotionally charged and meaningful, albeit sad, for all those who

attended, including researchers and other friends of the church. Despite the

open cleavages and heated arguments that had preceded this final meeting,

all members of the Brotherhood joined in prayer. At the end of the service,

Olumba's pictures were removed from the wall. In a symbolic act of closure,

28

the priest wrapped them in white cloth, kissed them and handed them to one

of the members who had decided to stay in Israel.

A close analysis of the ways in which BCS members acted in the months

following Olumba's order to leave Israel enables us to assess the various

survival strategies BCS members employed to cope with changing realities.

We were able to identify how members objected, compromised, adapted and

negotiated about resources, rights and obligations.

Our analysis of these processes reinforces the perception that migration

causes an adaptative evolution of what might be termed "basic values" of the

migrating group. In our case this included changes in belief and religious

practices that led to a re-examination, both by women and men, of the

interplay of power between religious leadership and lay members, between

those considered to be omnipotent and their followers. The findings of this

study show that personal identities, modes of consciousness, religious beliefs,

and practices of the migrants did not evolve in complete detachment or

disengagement from the ones they had developed earlier. Rather, they grew

through a long process of complex individual and political — sometimes

dialectical — struggles, and through a close connection with the socio-political

reality in Israel and back home.

Migration itself empowers people in many and varied ways. Though they

followed their religious leadership for years, claiming to have no personal

agenda, once their basic aspirations were severely challenged, members of

BCS adopted a divergent path. It seems that the distance from Calabar, the

inability to get support from other Africans and the general chaotic context

they were operating in, enabled their free will to overcome other power

constructs. They were well aware of the price each had to pay for the choices

he or she made. Those who chose greater autonomy and freedom appeared

to accept the consequences of that decision.

Our analysis of the reality of BCS members' lives during the period of

deportation negates the accepted dichotomous perception, postulating

tradition versus modernity, African versus Western, religious obedience

versus free will, faith versus free choice, emotional versus rational, and so on.

It appears that every BCS member found his or her own way and place within

the wide range of possibilities along the continuum between autonomy and

29

bondage, freedom to act and acceptance of charismatic religious leadership,

the need to break through boundaries and the existential need to safeguard

their membership in the church as a source of strength in times of crisis.

Seven members violated Olumba's orders and opted to stay in Israel.

Weeks after their former brothers and sisters had left, they themselves were

caught by the deportation police and sent back home, taking with them the

last remnants of the Brotherhood of the Cross and Star in Israel.

31

Notes

This study has benefited from lengthy discussions with Achille mbembe and John Comaroff as well as from comments from Afe Adogame, Sarah Willen and Mika Vähäkangas. We are grateful to the Department of Middle Eastern and African History and the S. Daniel Abraham Center for International and Regional Studies at Tel Aviv University for their support of this research. 1 Olumba Olumba Obu is the founder and leader of a religious movement called Olumba

Olumba (abbr. OO), or the Brotherhood of the Cross and Star (abbr. BCS).

2 Being aware of the debate within the academic world, we decided to keep the first names of

all religious leaders. We received their permission to do so, and at time they even insisted on having their real name mentioned. All other interviewees' names are pseudonyms.

3 "Cult" and "sect" are used interchangeably to denote that the other African Churches in

Israel labeled OO with those terms, using them pejoratively. Though we are well aware that they have different sociological connotations, we decided to use whatever term our informants used without changing it to the meaning we happened to think was "appropriate."

4 This paper does not relate to Ethiopian Jews who have migrated to Israel and received full

rights according to the Law of Return.

5 According to the Israeli law all people who are in the country illegally are subjected to

deportation, and sporadic deportation of undocumented migrant laborers did indeed take place all the time, though massive deportation only started in and around 2002.

6 It should be note that BCS regards itself more then a church, rather as a spiritual school

where Christianity is not only taught but also practiced. To members of the movement, Olumba Olumba Obu is "God in human form…He is Jesus Christ back on earth" (Revelation of the Holy Spirit. 1981). Olumba Olumba Obu is referred to by his devotees by more than 99 other divine onomastic designations and titles. The little village Biakpan, where Obu was born (in the Nigerian Delta), is now variously called the New Jerusalem, the New Eden, and Paradise Regained. For BCS theology, see Revelation of the Holy Spirit: Special Release for Christ's Week. 1981, The Supernatural Teacher, Book 2. 1980. For a detailed discussion of BCS theology, see Essien 1987, Mbon 1992.

7 This research is based on dozens of open-ended, in-depth interviews, conducted in Israel

between 1999 and 2004 and on hundreds of hours of participant observation of different church-related activities at both Olumba Olumba and other African churches in Israel. Interviewees were located through snowballing, beginning with one member of the OO who introduced us to many other members. The interviewees consisted of an almost equal number of men and women, aged 20 to 40, mainly from Nigeria. Once the interviews were under way, the interviewees were encouraged to talk freely about their daily lives in Israel, with minimal interference other than requests for examples and clarifications. Participant observations began shortly after the first interview and were carried out throughout the research. The interviews were transcribed, insofar as possible verbatim, in the course of the conversation, or immediately afterwards. The narrative analysis approach was used to analyze the data (Leiblich 1999, 2003, Sabar Ben-Yehoshua 2005).

8 We are aware of the differences between the concepts of exclusion, seclusion and

excommunication, terms that will at times be used interchangeably in an attempt to stress the fact that BCS was being kept apart in a deliberate act of omission, and/or was being forced out of the larger community of African migrant laborers. The issue at hand is not only to

31

analyze the reasons for the exclusion, but also its origin, i.e. the person or persons responsible for it.

9 It must be noted that Olumba Olumba himself, as well as many of his students have

published hundreds of books, booklets and pamphlets about BCS's history and theology, and about the personal life story of the leader. All published by BCS publishing house, some of them are available online.

10 On the reasons (mainly the Palestinian uprising) for opening Israel's borders to international

migrant laborers, see Sabar, 2004b.

11 According to personal communication with members of the African Workers Union, the

General Federation of Trade in Israel, African church leaders and other NGOs.

12 For a detailed biographical account of Olumba Olumba, see Mbon 1992, Hackett 1989,

p.106.

13 Recent inquiries regarding the actual number of followers affiliated with BCS today were

not answered by BCS representatives in Nigeria and the UK.

14 This is clearly stated in OO hymn books, see for example: "Father, Son and the Holy Spirit

/ All three persons in one / Cometh down on earth now to live / In human form". The New Sure Foundation Hymnary, 1990. Hymn 3, p. 3. One of the Israeli members of BCS told us that OO is not only the short for Olumba Olumba but also to Omnipotent Omnipotent.

15 Olumba Obu lays claim to Judeo-Christian foundations and uses the Bible, supplemented

by a constant flow of additional revelations. For OO, the entire Old Testament and most of the New Testament are obsolete. Basing his ideas on a selection of revelations, and on his unique interpretation of the Bible, Obu developed a system of doctrines which orthodox Christians find so different from their own orthodox approach, if not utterly strange, and hence even un-Christian. For instance, Obu teaches that God is pantheistic, pluriform, good and evil, and (like human beings) bisexual. God, human beings, and all things in nature, both animate and inanimate, are biospiritually interconnected. According to Obu, Christ failed because he had sinful propensities and consequently could not reach the apex of spiritual enlightenment. Christ has reincarnated eight times and is now on earth in his final incarnation under the name of Olumba Olumba Obu. The Holy Spirit (now on earth) and the Holy Ghost are not one and the same. Marriage is an evil, and sexual abstinence has great spiritual value. Salvation is reached both through grace and through good works. Finally, OO claims that death is an illusion. For detailed analyses, see Mbon 1984, 1992, Umoh and Ekanem 1979.

16 Daily news about religious issues is published on the Web in the Calabar District

InternetCommittee. See http://www.agcalabar.com/pr03.htm [Accessed 20 March 2008). 17

According to one of the BCS' sites there are currently 32 branches in Nigeria, 16 in other African countries, 8 in Europe, 9 in North America and Canada. BCS Bethels and Pentecostal Centres Directory [online]. Available from:

ls%20directory/USA_Canada.html#atlantabcs.org/contacts/bethe-http://www.ooo [Accessed 20 March 2008). Another site points out additional three Branches in the Caribbean region and 1 in India. Leader Representatives Worldwide [online]. Available from: http://www.ooo.org.uk/LRs_worldwide.html [Accessed 20 March 2008)

18 In 1977 a major schism was led by Paul Louise Eyo in North America. This is the only

schism that has been thoroughly researched (Essien 1992).

32

19

Mbon describes the first migrant workers who arrived to Israel as "an expedition who came to announce that the Father is back". (Mbon 1992, p.42) 20

Pastor Antonie lived in Germany for several years were he managed the local BCS branch. He came to Israel after Olummba himself called him and asked him to do so in order to establish the Israeli branch. (Pastor Antonie, personal communication, March 2000).

21 To the best of our knowledge all non-African members left BCS shortly after joining it. Early

in 2002 there were no non-African members in the church.

22 For a detailed discussion on this process of choosing a church to belong to upon arrival

see: Sabar 2004, 2005.

23 In the context of BCS's official ideology and organizational structure, Mbon claims that it is

incorrect to use the title "leader" when referring to any member of the movement other than Obu himself, who is recognized in the movement as the "sole spiritual head" and leader. The title "officers" and/or "ordained ones" might hence be better substitutes (1984, p.8). However, we indicated the titles mentioned by the members of the Israeli branch themselves, both those in leadership positions and others all of whom are considered "indirect leaders," at least sociologically speaking.

24

On the politics of religious identity "migrating" from Africa to the west see: Adogame 2001, 2004, Van Dyke 2002, Sabar 2005.

25 Members of BCS put much faith in the efficacy of "holy oil" and "holy water". The

preparation of Brotherhood oil and water is said to be the exclusive responsibility of Obu: no other person in the movement has the kind of spiritual powers that, when infused into the oil and water, make them as powerful and effective. Obu himself says that "God is the maker of the holy oil" (From Cross to Star: The Glorification of the Holy Spirit. p. 73), and that as such members should worship the Creator of the oil and not the created element itself. Obu also says that the holy oil should not be toyed with or handled lightly because it is "the blood of Christ," ibid. Obviously, the usage of oil and oil in Christian rituals is not unique to OO; however, the symbolism attached to it is indeed unique. We learned that blessed oil and water were brought to Israel from Nigeria on a regular basis.

26

Brochure handed out at the Brotherhood's gathering in Tel Aviv, 1999. 27

BCS Website. (bcsweb3@yahoo.com), 1 June 2006, re: olumba olumba obu , email to Atalia Shragai. 28

It should be noted that in some other African Initiated Churches, like the Aladura churches in West Africa and Zionist churches in South Africa, white robes are common. In Israel, however, OO were the only ones to wear them. 29

Like other Christians, OO members refer to the 40 days before the Pentecost as the month of Pentecost. 30

Like all other illegal migrant workers, they could not return to Israel once they had left it.

31 Mbon suggested an alternative explanation to the ordination methodology in the

Brotherhood. He claimed that since healing is the key factor for recruiting followers to the Brotherhood, Olumba ordained people already known for their healing skills, who became the Brotherhood's "agents" and added to the movement's appeal. (1992, p. 48)

33

32

It should be clear that all missionary work in Israel was carried out amongst migrant workers and other non-Jews. Indeed, according to the law of Israel, non-Jewish active religious missionary activities is strictly prohibited.

33 Jennifer, a member of the Methodist church was interviewed by us in her church, Tel Aviv

May 2002.

34 Mordechai, A tourist guide for the Tel Aviv Tourist board, personal communication, May

2000.

35 It should be stated clearly that sporadic deportation took place as early as 1997; however,

massive deportation only started in and around 2002.

36 The term "home church" that was used by the police offices is a direct translation from the

Hebrew term "Kenesiyat Habait," meaning a church one can attend freely, where people will recognize the others, and be hospitable to guests. According to police officer E. Erlich, personal communication, August 2002.

37 "We are protected by your police," was a common feeling, expressed in many of our

interviews and repeated by men and women, leaders and lay members.

38 Akpaekong, O., Bishops Fight Olumba [online]. available from:

http://www.newswatchngr.com/editorial/allaccess/2002/26082002/sr10826093213.htm [Accessed 20 March 2008]

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