To forget one's ancestors is to be a brook without a source, a tree without a root.

In the heart of the city of Bridgetown, the bustling capital of Barbados, there lies a quiet and peaceful sanctuary.  It bears living testimony to the people whose daily lives revolved within and around its surrounding walls starting in the mid-17th century.  Within those ancient walls I imagine the social  gatherings over the decades - people from far away countries, perhaps describing their journeys in ships that brought them from Europe and other lands. It is where they prayed, where their families gathered and practised the traditions of their homeland and rituals of their faith as best they could.  They were the Sephardim - Jewish men and women originating in the Iberian Peninsular.  Fearful of the terrible Portuguese Inquisition, they had landed in Barbados to start a new life where they felt safe. There they could own property, trade globally, and live outside of ghettos. They were some of the earliest settlers in the island.

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On entering this beautifully maintained urban space recently, I was transported by what I can only describe as a feeling of poignant ancestral heritage.  The intense emotion surprised me. It felt like an oasis for thoughtful reflection. For it is here that part of my European roots were transplanted in the island in the 19th century. Roots that originated in Portugal, ancestors who had immigrated to Amsterdam, London, Suriname and finally to Barbados.    These ancestors of mine were active in the affairs of this small but historically significant Sephardi community. I sat alone in the synagogue and looked up and all around, taking in the meticulously preserved details. It reminded me of  the Esnoga - The Portuguese Synagogue in Amsterdam that I'd visited - yet this one felt more intimate. I learned for the first time that Jewish women had their own entrance to the synagogue located at the back of the building. An impressive dual staircase leads to the mezzanine balcony of the synagogue  from which they prayed, overlooking their menfolk. Their roles in the community were defined.  The Mikvah where they had their ritual bath, was supervised by one of my kin - Mrs. Lobo - who also lived within the compound.   

My ancestral women taught the island's Sephardic Jewish youth within this historic compound.   I imagine that in addition to strict religious studies, children (especially boys as they approached their Bar Mitzvah) were taught the practical skills needed to survive in the colonial British West Indies, which often included arithmetic, English literacy, and bookkeeping.  Their fathers were merchants and traders in nearby Swan Street, where they lived and operated their business.

My family ceased belonging to the Jewish faith in 1870 when my great-great grandfather, Daniel Lobo, raised in this tight-knit Sephardic community,  married a Christian woman. Daniel was the great-grandson of the Chief Rabbi at London's Bevis Marks, Haham Moses Cohen D'Azevedo.  I thought of the enormity of that as I sat pondering with the knowledge I'd gained about my ancestors.   Still, the names of our people remain etched in the Jewish history of those times. Lobo, Azevedo, Lindo, Finzi, Daniels -  are all recorded in the sacred Minute Books. The first Sephardim to arrive in Barbados  built the Nidhe Israel Synagogue, first consecrated in 1654.  After it was destroyed by a fierce hurricane in 1831, my ancestors were instrumental in the rebuilding of their place of worship. 

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Much has been written by historians and scholars about the diminished Jewish community and tragic demise and deconsecration of the ancient synagogue in the thirties. I think desecration more aptly describes what was done.  But around that time came hope for the congregation. A new wave of Jewish immigrants fleeing Nazi persecution in the lead-up to World War ll arrived on the island from Eastern Europe.  They were the first Ashkenazi Jewish settlers in Barbados. It is thanks to them and their offspring, together with two important Barbadian statesmen, that the magnificent Synagogue, Mikvah, surrounding buildings and sacred burial grounds have been preserved.  In addition, the rich history of the Jews' contribution to the island of Barbados is beautifully told in their very own museum within the compound.

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The rescue and restoration of the Nidhe Israel Synagogue, the oldest synagogue in the Western Hemisphere, stands today as a monumental achievement born out of an unusual alignment of political will. The site was ultimately saved through the collective decisions of  The Rt. Hon. Tom Adams, QC and The Right Excellent Errol Walton Barrow, PC QC - the first two prime ministers of independent Barbados.

Remarkably, both statesmen shared distinct and deeply personal Jewish connections that may well have influenced this important historic preservation.