Bringing the Scent of Shabbat to the ‘Lone Jews’ of Tanzania

by Motti Wilhelm – chabad.org

Tanzania’s Jewish roots stretch back over a century, but decades of challenges scattered its once-promising community. Now, a new Chabad House is poised to both revive that legacy and establish a vibrant Jewish presence for the future.

Tanzania’s Jewish history dates back to the late 1800s, when Yemenite Jews journeyed through Ethiopia and Kenya before settling in the region. They were later joined by Jews from Morocco and other countries, and in the 1930s, several thousand Polish Jews fleeing Nazi persecution found refuge there.

But the peace they sought didn’t last. The community was targeted by violence and aggressive missionary efforts, making Jewish life increasingly difficult. By the 1960s, the community had largely dispersed, and the synagogue in Arusha was destroyed. For more than six decades, almost nothing remained of Jewish life in Tanzania.

The timeline began to shift only recently. In 2023, Rabbi Shimi and Chani Aziza, a young couple from Israel, began exploring options for opening a new Chabad center. Both were raised in families steeped in the mission of helping others: Shimi’s father runs a yeshivah in Tel Aviv for those discovering their Jewish identity, while Chani’s parents direct Eshel Ashkelon, a soup kitchen and senior center operated under the auspices of Chabad of Ashkelon.

Growing up in these environments, and inspired by the teachings of the Rebbe—Rabbi Menachem M. Schneerson, of righteous memory—the Azizas were determined to dedicate their lives to the same mission. Like thousands of Chabad-Lubavitch emissaries around the world, they set out to find a place where they could make a meaningful and lasting impact.

In 2024, as they continued weighing their options, the Azizas received a phone call from Rabbi Shlomo Bentolila, director of Chabad of Central Africa.

“Are you still looking for a location to open a Chabad House?” he asked. When they said yes, he suggested Tanzania.

Two months later, the Azizas made their first visit—just in time to celebrate Purim with the small Jewish community living there.

“When we first came, we only knew of five or six Jews here,” Rabbi Aziza recalls. “We contacted them and managed to track down a few more.” Their first Shabbat drew just a handful of people. By Purim, just a few days later, they had gathered 30 community members to celebrate.

After that initial visit, the decision was clear: they would make the approximately 3,500-mile journey to Tanzania again—this time for the long term. Over the following months, they prepared for the move, and earlier this year, they officially launched Chabad of Tanzania.

‘A Place They Can Turn to for Anything’

The new Chabad center is located in Dar es Salaam, an 11-hour drive from Arusha, where Tanzania’s historic Jewish community once lived. So while the Azizas are building on a historical foundation, they’re also creating something entirely new.

“When we arrived, we found that every Jewish person felt completely alone,” says Rabbi Aziza. “They weren’t in contact with any other Jews, even those living nearby. Some were afraid to publicly identify as Jewish; others simply didn’t know there were any Jews in the country. But as soon as we established Chabad of Tanzania, we started uncovering all these ‘lost Jews.’”

He adds that “since our arrival, we’ve also seen a growing number of Jewish expats begin to move here, now that there’s a Jewish presence and a place they can turn to for anything they need.”

The growth has been swift, and the community has already marked several milestones—many of them a “first” for the city and even for the entire country.

After opening the Chabad House and synagogue, the Azizas launched in quick succession a kosher catering service and restaurant, regular Shabbat and holiday services, weekly Torah classes for men and women, daily one-on-one study sessions and a Sunday Hebrew school for children.

They are currently working to build the community’s first mikvah—the first in all of Tanzania. They are preparing to welcome a Torah scroll with a joyful Hachnasat Sefer Torah celebration.

They have also hosted two brit milahs, and a wedding: an Israeli expat and a local Jewish woman who met at the Chabad House and later had their marriage arranged through an Orthodox beit din in Israel. The Azizas hosted the full Jewish wedding—likely the first kosher wedding in recent Tanzanian history.

Rabbi Aziza shares a story that captures the heart of their mission.

“There was an Israeli Jew I used to visit regularly when I first arrived in Tanzania,” he says. “I’d stop by his office, chat with him, invite him for a Shabbat meal, offer him the opportunity to put on tefillin, but every time, he politely declined.”

After a few weeks of this, the Azizas decided to try something new: Shabbat in a Box. Each package includes two traditional challahs, homemade dips like hummus and matbucha, and other Israeli-style Shabbat staples—something tangible to bring a taste of Shabbat to local Jews, even if they didn’t come to the Chabad House.

“I brought this man a package,” Aziza recalls. “The next week I visited again, asked how he was doing, invited him for Shabbat—again, he said no. So I gave him another package. This went on for a few weeks.”

Then, one Friday, the man stopped him.

“He said, ‘Rabbi, I respect you, but please stop bringing me these packages. I don’t use them. I don’t want them. I don’t even eat the food. I gave it to my dog.’”

“That hurt,” Aziza admits. “I didn’t tell my wife; I just kept it to myself. For a few weeks, I couldn’t bring myself to go back to his office. But then I reminded myself: I’m here for a reason.”

The rabbi figured that instead of handing the Shabbat package to the man directly, he would just drop it off at the front desk. If the man wanted to throw it out it was up to him.

Then, one Friday, something unexpected happened.

“I walked into the office, and he was waiting for me—smiling, wide and warm. I wasn’t used to seeing him like that.

“He said, ‘Rabbi, I want to tell you a story. Do you remember when I told you to stop bringing me the Shabbat packages?’“‘Well, a few weeks later, I saw you’d left another one. The secretary had put it on my desk. At first, I got annoyed—but then, for some reason, I opened it. The smells, the food … it reminded me of the Shabbat meals we used to have back in Israel at my father’s table.

“‘It was Friday afternoon. I took the challahs and the hummus—and I ate. The next week, you brought another package. And this time, I was actually waiting for it.

“‘That Friday night, I brought the food home. The kids were already asleep. I put the package on the table and—I don’t know why—but I decided to make Kiddush. For the first time.

“‘I pulled out a bottle of wine from the fridge. I didn’t know the blessings, so I had to go look up how to recite them. I stood there and recited Kiddush. Then, my wife came into the room and saw me with the wine, the challahs and candles. She asked, “Where did this come from? I told her, “The rabbi brought us a Shabbat package.”

“‘I thought she’d be upset—honestly, I always assumed she was more anti-religious than I was. But she didn’t get angry. She said, “Why didn’t you tell me? Let’s do Kiddush together.”

“‘Since then, every Friday, we make Kiddush together—me, my wife and our son.’”

That was the start of a journey. Today, the man puts on tefillin and takes part in other Jewish programs.

“It took moving from Israel to Tanzania for this family to uncover that connection to their heritage which was hiding just beneath the surface. This is just one story of many,” Aziza says. “We don’t always see the results right away, but when we do, it reminds us of why we’re here in a far-off African country—to make sure that every Jew, no matter where they are, has the opportunity to connect with their Yiddishkeit, to rediscover that Shabbat meal they used to have at his father’s table.”