As the mythical homeland of the Tutsi people, the Land of Israel still exerts a magical pull for those Tutsis who resisted conversion to Christianity and retained their customs — customs strikingly reminiscent of Judaism

Though he’s comfortably settled in a law practice in Belgium, Matthias Niyonzima’s internal compass still points to two other countries: the African country of Burundi, and the Land of Israel. As his birthplace and the home of his mother and siblings, Burundi still tugs at his heartstrings. As the mythical homeland of the Tutsi people, the Land of Israel still exerts a magical pull for those Tutsis who resisted conversion to Christianity and retained their customs — customs strikingly reminiscent of Judaism. In a riveting interview, Matthias — now known as Matityahu — shares his story with Mishpacha

On a Belgian holiday called Armistice Day, we drive to Brussels to meet Mr. Matthias Niyonzima, or Matityahu Chaim, his more recent name. He lives on a street located in the once very populous area of the “Marolles,” which used to be the poorest and most colorful section of Brussels. Today, the run-down buildings of the past share space with beautiful new buildings. Junky bazaars have made way for shiny and elegant antique stores. Their windows don’t display things that your average Belgian can afford — or would want to have for that matter — but apparently, they have their clientele. Authentic voodoo statues, complete with nails, share space with weird designer furniture. Secondhand vintage stores display eclectic and expensive clothing. A pair of worn-out Chanel shoes is on sale for over a hundred dollars.

We finally reach our destination, Mr. Niyonzima’s law office. His private apartment is located on another floor in the same modern building. Judging by the number of computers, his practice seems to be thriving. For all intents and purposes, it seems a most typical setting for a typical lawyer. But a closer look reveals that not everything is quite so conventional here; the office is decorated with diverse African artifacts — and our gracious host is an observant Jew who traces his roots to the Tutsi tribe of Burundi, Africa.

“Everything Became Clear”

For centuries, the Tutsi tribe was widely regarded as the aristocracy of the African countries of Rwanda and Burundi. The remainder of the population — the Hutu tribe — was seen as lower class. When the Germans and Belgians colonized the area, they singled out the taller and longer-nosed Tutsis as more “European” and therefore naturally fit to serve as the ruling class. Though the tribes got along well before the colonization era, Matityahu remembers growing up with the sense that he was different, and special.

“As Tutsis, we were always different from the surrounding tribes,” he recounts. “Although we didn’t exactly know why it was that way, we knew it was of utmost importance. We had our special customs to which we strictly adhered. In our wildest dreams, we wouldn’t have dreamed that those customs had anything to do with Judaism.”

Matityahu never heard of the Jews or their state until 1978, when as a young man he served as organizer of a youth conference in Bujumbura (Burundi’s capital) for youngsters from all over Africa. Among the attendees were some North African Arabs. “When they saw us displaying our Burundi flag, they started to protest and insisted that we remove it, claiming that it was a Zionist flag, because it is adorned with three little Stars of David. That was my first exposure to Israel, and it wasn’t a positive one. Still, it somehow awakened me.”

The bright young man went on to study law in Bujumbura and earned a scholarship to obtain his doctorate in comparative law in the K.U. Leuven, a prestigious Belgian university. During those two years he spent in Belgium, just a stone’s throw from organized Jewish life, he didn’t have the faintest idea of what a Jew was or looked like. Then, in 1985, he ended up in Lausanne, Switzerland.

“It was certainly Hashem’s Hashgachah pratis that placed me with an Italian roommate who was a practicing Jew. He started telling me what it means to be a contemporary Jew and I got the shock of my life.”

All the things that he had always been taught were disgusting, like eating pork or vermin or crustaceans, were forbidden to Jews, as well. Whenever somebody had asked him why he refrained from those foods, he had never been able to respond. All at once, everything had become clear. It was Jewish kashruth.

“When I told my father what I had found out concerning Jewish kashruth, it made him happy beyond belief,” Matityahu remembers. “People had tried to convince my father that in modern times one couldn’t adhere to those ancient customs and that our tribe had to get used to eating everything. But he had stood firm, insisting, ‘If this is what it takes to be civilized, then I don’t want to be civilized.’ He always kept very strictly to the rules.