Jewish and Bamileke communities connect over shared history

When Adelaide Madiesse Nguela speaks of the Bamileke people, an ethnic group devastated by a genocide in Cameroon, she’s quick to mention the “code of silence” imposed on the survivors and their descendants, including her. When she would ask about her grandmother’s brother, who was abducted and never seen again, her grandmother would silence her.

It’s a cycle of fear that kept Madiesse Nguela’s grandmother silent, and it’s a cycle Madiesse Nguela is intent on breaking. She shared the history of her community at an event held by the Holocaust Center of Pittsburgh on Aug. 5 as a part of the Elizabeth Sylvian Memorial Lectures on Chatham University’s Shadyside Campus.

“Most of us are here seeking the truth, seeking recognition, wanting a name to be said for the first time without fear, without shame, daring to say genocide without fear,” she said.

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As she explained the importance of sharing Bamileke stories, she asked her audience to say the name of her grandmother’s brother.

The audience, in a chorus, repeated “Paul.”

It’s an act that Emily Loeb, director of programs and education at the Holocaust Center, echoed as she mentioned the 141 members of her family who were killed in the Holocaust. She shared her father’s belief that a person can die twice in Judaism: once when they physically die, and again when they are forgotten. Because of that, Loeb mentions those 141 every time she shares her grandparents’ story of surviving the Holocaust.

Julia Barnes, a cultural anthropologist who specializes in human rights forensics in mass atrocities, spoke in a pre-recorded video about the Cameroonian genocide. Barnes previously taught in the genocide studies minor at Chatham University, where she had students work with Bamileke genocide survivors to build a community archive with the ultimate goal of international recognition of the genocide.

The genocide lasted from approximately 1948 to 1971 and was perpetrated by French colonial forces. An exact death toll is unknown, but it may number from 100,000 to 400,000.

Napalm and heavy artillery were used to destroy villages. Because of the Bamileke belief that the soul was housed in the head, skulls were typically enshrined and kept with future generations, a practice that led to French forces decapitating and publicly displaying Bamileke heads.

Cameroon was one of many African states colonized by France in the 19th and 20th centuries, and the Bamileke people were targeted for their significant role in the Cameroonian independence movement.

Colonial forces used a strategy of targeted oppression against the Bamileke people to undermine their resistance. Francis Kuikoua, a Bamileke historian and researcher, explained that Bamileke people were ostracized and stigmatized by French colonization. The stigma and stereotypes created to dominate the Bamileke people continue to be prominent in Cameroon.

While the speakers referred to themselves as Bamileke, even the term itself is rooted in that colonial oppression. Poa binam, Madiesse Nguela explained, means “The people who come from where the sun goes down,” and is how the Bamileke people referred to themselves.

Many of the speakers are members of the La’akam Association, a nonprofit started by Bamileke community members in Pittsburgh as a way of preserving Bamileke culture and history. Alain Tamonoche, a speaker and Bamileke community member, hopes to create an encyclopedia of Bamileke culture and spirituality as a part of the La’akam Association’s goals.

“Part of La’akam’s mission is to really take back our history,” Tamonche said. “We have been defined by others. The very first page of that book will be to record the history of genocide.”

Barnes took a step toward saving that history by recording the testimony of the late professor Gilbert Doho, a survivor of the Bamileke genocide. A short clip of Doho’s testimony was played at the event.

“With the eye of the child then, I saw those helicopters, I saw those B-52s throwing bombs, machine gunning people down from the air,” Doho said, going on to describe the systematic burning of houses and crops. “That’s the beginning of what I call total eradication of my people.”

The French government has yet to acknowledge the genocide, with Prime Minister François Fillon denying it in a 2009 visit to Cameroon.

Max Gelernter, the grandson of Holocaust survivors and a Tree of Life board member, explained in his opening remarks at the event how he connected with the Bamileke community’s story of survival.

A few months ago, Noah Schoen, community outreach associate at the Holocaust Center, invited Gelernter to a potluck dinner where members of the Bamileke community and descendants of Holocaust survivors gathered and shared their stories.

Tamonoche was impressed by the Jewish written history, which inspired Gelernter to transcribe his grandparents’ stories. He asked one Bamileke community member what she would like her children and grandchildren to know about their history. Then, they exchanged histories.

She read Gelernter’s grandfather’s story of survival and pointed to a quote that resonated with her: “I wanted to survive. Life can be beautiful.”

A common sentiment shared by the numerous Jewish and Bamileke speakers was that their communities’ experiences somewhat mirror each other. The shared history of genocide has created a sense of solidarity between the communities, with Schoen being honored at a reception for Foh Njitack Ngompe Péle, king of the Bamileke kingdom of Bafoussam in Cameroon.

In the fourth annual Bamileke Genocide Conference and Commemoration, Bamileke community members presented 11 stones, representing the 11 worshippers killed in the Pittsburgh synagogue shooting, to Martin Gaynor, a survivor of the shooting, to honor the victims.

The event wrapped up with a panel of descendants of Holocaust and Bamileke genocide survivors: Loeb, Debbie Leuchter Stueber, Rebecca Jacobson, Madiesse Nguela and Tamonoche.

Madiesse Nguela said that the connection she has with the Jewish community has helped her heal.

“It’s been for me like looking at myself in the mirror, listening to your story, knowing that there are people who have been through the same story, but who are more able to share,” she said. “Today and for some time now, I know we are not alone.”

And the power of that connection doesn’t go just one way.

“As a child of Holocaust survivors, it’s very important to connect with another community that has shared trauma and history, and it’s been my honor to get to know their ancestors through their stories, their culture, but also their resiliency,” Stueber said. “It is healing for all of us.” PJC

Abigail Hakas is a freelance writer living in Pittsburgh.