When Smith Jadesimi, a tall and athletic
25-yearold from Nigeria, first approached
his country’s Israeli Embassy in Abuja
about his desire to donate a kidney to an
Israeli, he was politely but firmly turned
away.
Likewise, the organization that facilitates
kidney transplants in Israel told him no; at
least one Israeli hospital refused him, too.
Jadesimi was undaunted. A man of deep
faith, he knew he was supposed to donate
a kidney to an Israeli, and that it would
happen.
Rabbi Yeshayahu Heber was among those
who rejected Jadesimi. Although Heber
himself was a kidney recipient and the
founding chairman of Matnat Chaim –
Hebrew for Gift of Life, an organization
that desperately seeks organ donors – he
assumed Jadesimi was seeking a way into
Israel as a foreign worker, like many other
Africans. Said Heber, “We don’t want
[those who have fallen on hard times] and
want to donate their kidneys for money;
we’re only seeking altruistic donations.”
The first letter from Jadesimi in Nigeria
arrived on September 14, 2013. Despite his
initial rejection, Jadesimi kept writing. He
eventually convinced Heber that he was for
real. He was ready to undergo medical
tests for suitability in a Nigerian hospital –
and he passed them all.
“The rabbi changed his mind about me,
but there was still the Israeli Embassy to
convince about a visa,” recalled Jadesimi.
Jadesimi was born in 1987 into a large,
prosperous and highly educated family,
residing in the oil-rich Delta State
(population four million) of Nigeria. After
public school, he graduated from the
University of Pretoria in South Africa and
holds two master’s degrees, one in
statistics and another in computer
engineering.
“Our parents read the Bible with us
every morning,” he says. “They
stressed the value of love. You can
believe in something, obey the
commandments, keep the Sabbath
holy, but love is the greatest
motivator. If you really love, you
won’t steal or covet your neighbor’s
wife.”
His parents attended an Anglican church,
but Jadesimi preferred a more evangelical
approach and joined the Lagos branch of
the Synagogue Church of All Nations,
which he says has literally millions of
members.
He became a lay pastor there. Staying at
a friend’s home while in Lagos, he began
importing fish from Scandinavia and
Indonesia to give to 100 women, market
fishmongers who could make a living
peddling them. He gave away 70 percent
of his income, not only in Nigeria, but
also to those in the Philippines and Haiti,
to Christians in Syria and to rebuild Gaza.
The Middle East seemed to him to be the
most troubled; he googled “People who
need help” and Matnat Chaim came up.
He read about the kidney donation
program and checked the reputedly low
risk for the donor, first with a friend
studying medicine and then with a veteran
physician. “I told him I was trying to
convince a friend not to donate his kidney
and needed good arguments.”
The odds seemed favorable for a young,
non-smoking, non-drinking footballer like
him.
“I figured that God isn’t a fool to
give us two kidneys if we only need
one, so we’re supposed to give one
away to the needy,” he said. “Love
isn’t just in your heart, you have to
do something to show you love
others. And not just someone you
know, not selfish, someone beyond
your circle. If you have $10 billion
and a kidney problem, all of your
money can’t solve the problem – only
a donor can.”
When Heber’s letter to the embassy didn’t
open the door, the rabbi applied to the
Interior Ministry on behalf of Jadesimi. Half
a year passed before a tourist visa was
issued; another month went by before the
visa was stamped in Nigeria.
At last, he got permission to fly to Israel.
The transplant would take place in Haifa.
He underwent additional medical tests,
examinations, a first-ever session with a
psychiatrist and another with a social
worker.
“After I drew pictures for the
psychiatrists, a committee including
professors grilled me about why I
wanted to come; I explained how God
had sent me.”
He had to return to Nigeria for an
important business appointment in June
2014. He was assured he’d hear within
three weeks.
At last, at the end of September 2014,
four months later, he received word that
he’d passed inspection. Was he angry at
the delays? “Love means being patient and
not expressing yourself in anger,” affirms
Jadesimi.
Now, he had to tell his parents. How did
they take it? “They didn’t like the idea, to
put it mildly. They said I was unmarried
and had no children, that I shouldn’t take
such a risk. I spoke about the advanced
medicine in Israel. They relented, figuring
they’d kill my spirit if they stood in the
way. We all prayed together for success.”
Two years after beginning his quest to give
away a kidney to an Israeli, Jadesimi was
accepted. His only stipulation about the
recipient was that he or she be a young
person around his age.
The recipient, he learned, would be
Omaima Halabi, 21, a recently graduated
law student from the Druse town of
Daliat al-Carmel outside Haifa. Jadesimi
had never heard of the Druse.
The surgery was arranged for December 18
at Haifa’s Rambam Medical Center.
“I wasn’t afraid; It was a mission with
God on my side. I had peace of
heart.”
He met Halabi, a pretty young woman
with shoulder- length dark hair parted in
the middle. He was amazed that he’d be
able to give her another chance at a
normal life. She’d already been suffering
from kidney failure for a year and a half,
and had a bleak future without a kidney.
Omaima’s father, educator Farah Halabi,
heard about the rabbi from the Har Nof
neighborhood of Jerusalem and his kidney-
donating organization from the hospital
staff where his daughter was being treated.
He contacted Heber.
On the day of the surgery, Christian
prayers were offered in Nigeria, Jewish
prayers in Jerusalem, and Druse prayers in
Haifa. “We were all praying for the same
thing,” noted Heber.
The surgeons detached and removed
Halabi’s kidney, replacing it with one of
Jadesimi’s. They connected the tubes and
voila… the kidney started to work.
Jadesimi says he felt pretty good after the
surgery, and was eager to leave the
hospital so he could observe Christmas.
Farah Halabi, Omaima’s dad, offered
Jadesimi a ride to the Basilica of the
Annunciation in Nazareth.
“I had to be careful of the stitches
and couldn’t kneel after the surgery,”
says Jadesimi. Halabi had a word
with the priest. “I was given a VIP
seat,” recounts Jadesimi. “Imagine, a
VIP seat in Nazareth.”
Heber doesn’t allow payment or even
extravagant gifts to donors, but he
approved of the Halabi family’s offer to
make a “Christmas” thanksgiving dinner.
They’d do it Druse-style, with grilled meat
and abundant salads. The mayor of Daliat
al-Carmel would be there, the Druse elders,
relatives and Rabbi Heber, too.
A packaged meal from the religious
kibbutz Nir Etzion was ordered for him.
“I’m so grateful – to my donor Smith
Jadesimi, to my family, to Rabbi
Heber,” said Omaima Halabi at the
feast. “This was certainly arranged in
heaven.”
Credit: BARBARA SOFER
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