“The wise man doesn’t give the right answers, he poses the right questions.”
~ Claude Levi-Strauss, French anthropologist.

I remember years ago in New York, a friend took me to a Jewish restaurant, and there I ran into another paradox I would have to unravel. As I entered and my nostrils were filled with the aroma of marijuana coming from hookahs, I was further blown away when a Sizzla Kalonji song was on in the background and as Kalonji crooned “Like mountains round about…” the entire bar broke out in chorus completing the lyrics “JERUSALEM!” …and I stood there in disbelief, witnessing a group of Jewish patrons singing along to a Jamaican reggae song that referenced Jerusalem, a city sacred in Jewish tradition. The fusion of cultures and religions in that moment was surreal – a Jewish restaurant in New York filled with the sounds of Jamaican music and the aroma of hookahs, all coming together in a celebration of unity and shared human experience. It was a powerful reminder that even in the face of seeming paradoxes, our differences can come together in beautiful and unexpected ways.

Now today I sit here in my office in Montego Bay, the reverberations of the ongoing conflict in Gaza echo across the globe, a stark reminder that the Israeli-Palestinian struggle remains a defining issue of our time. It is within this charged atmosphere that I find myself compelled to explore the little-known yet fascinating history of Jamaica’s own Jewish connection.

In the sultry embrace of Montego Bay, where the Caribbean Sea whispers secrets to the shore, a hidden story unfolds. It’s a tale of diaspora, of roots intertwined like the mangrove trees that cling to our coastlines. As the world’s eyes turn to Israel and Gaza, a distant echo reverberates through our island, reminding us of connections long forgotten, yet ever-present.

The images from Gaza, of children’s bodies pulled from the rubble, of families huddled in makeshift shelters, evoke a deep sense of anguish that transcends borders. As a Jamaican, I cannot help but view this conflict through the prism of our own complex history, where the echoes of colonialism and the fight for self-determination reverberate even deeper still.

The bombs fall on Gaza like coconuts in a hurricane, each impact shattering lives and dreams. Meanwhile, in Tel Aviv, sirens wail their banshee cries, fear stalking the streets like a hungry mongrel. And here, in our slice of paradise, we watch, we weep, we wonder – how did the world become so entangled in this familiar yet distant dance of death?

But then, as if in answer, the beats of reggae pulse through the air, carrying with them the gravelly voice of Matisyahu. A Hasidic Jew turned reggae star, he chants of Zion and Babylon, of exodus and redemption. The Hasidic rapper whose fusion of ancient Hebrew chants and modern rhythms has captivated audiences worldwide. His music serves as a bridge between the ancient and the contemporary, much like the Jewish presence in Jamaica itself. His lyrics, steeped in Old Testament imagery, blend seamlessly with our own musical traditions. And suddenly, the distance between Jamaica and Jerusalem doesn’t seem so vast.

This is the land of that “old time religion” and so we are married to the Old Testament, be ye Christian or Rastafari. And if Rasta is tied to the Old Testament then you can bet the Old Testament is infused into Reggae. For about 15 years now I have been looking into family history, only to see the Star of David hidden in the corners of our island. In the faces of my neighbors, in the names on old tombstones, in the very own bloodline in the texture of our society. I, a child of Jamaica, began to realize my own Jewish connections – tenuous perhaps, but undeniable. I found myself unexpectedly confronted with my own family’s history. Tracing back through the generations, I uncover whispers of a Jewish lineage, a legacy that had long been obscured by the tides of time and the complexities of our island’s past. It is a revelation that I wrestled with and it took some reconciling, a reminder that the tapestry of Jamaican identity is sewn with threads of diverse cultural influences. In my social studies classes at Cornwall College, I would teach these things to my students, but I actually live it to some degree.

In Montego Bay, the evidence is everywhere, if only one knows where to look. There’s the Jewish cemetery near the end of the Hip Strip, its weathered headstones testament to lives lived and lost centuries ago, stands as a poignant reminder of the community’s roots in this vibrant coastal town. On Jimmy Cliff Boulevard, a kosher restaurant serves up a fusion of Caribbean and Middle Eastern flavours. And nestled in the heart of our tourist district, the Chabad of Montego Bay, a hub of spiritual and cultural activity, stands as a beacon for Jewish travellers and locals alike.

Our Jewish history is as old as Columbus himself. When the Spanish Inquisition cast its long shadow across Europe, many Jews fled to the New World, finding refuge on our shores. They came as conversos, hidden behind Christian facades, but carrying their true faith in their hearts. As the centuries rolled by, they emerged from the shadows, becoming an integral part of Jamaica’s fibre. Since the influx of Sephardic refugees, the Jewish presence in Jamaica has been a constant, if often overlooked, thread in the tapestry of our nation’s development.

From the sugar plantations of the 17th century to the bustling markets of the 20th, Jewish entrepreneurs and traders have been entrenched in Jamaica’s economy. In Montego Bay, their influence is particularly pronounced. They were among the first to see the potential in our pristine beaches and azure waters, helping to transform our sleepy town into a world-renowned tourist destination.

As I sit here, watching the sun dip below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple, I can’t help but marvel at the interconnectedness of it all. So let us remember that we carry within us the stories of a thousand journeys. Recall the diversity that makes us who we are, even as we mourn for those caught in conflicts far away. For we are all children of the same earth, all seeking our own promised land. From the ancient hills of Judea to the sun-kissed shores of Jamaica, we are all part of a grand, cosmic dance.

About the author: Yannick Nesta Pessoa B.A. is Jamaica’s first blogger, History and Social Studies Teacher, Community Activist, Artist and Entrepreneur. Follow Yannick on Twitter and Instagram at @yahnyk | yannickpessoa@yahoo.com