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REHOVOT, Israel — An 80-year-old Ethiopian Jew, Yehewrake Yehuloset, sits next to his 11-year-old granddaughter, Tebka, on a cot that serves as a couch. His new two-bedroom apartment is here, in this town halfway between Jerusalem and Tel Aviv.

The only photograph in the living room is that of his son, Yismau, who died a year and a half ago of malaria in the Jewish compound in Addis Ababa. He left a wife, Zebader Lule Haile, and four children — all of whom are still waiting for permission from Israel to make aliyah (immigrate).

Yehewrake's new wife, Kasse, 75, cries as he removes their son's photograph from the wall to show a visitor.

The bearded patriarch then takes out his certificate of aliyah. "We are Jews. No one in our family has intermarried. They wouldn't allow Yismau to come to Israel. He was the last of my seven children waiting for permission, even though I am recognized as a Jew."

This year, nearly 3,000 people known as Falas Mura are celebrating Passover in a refugee camp in Africa's poorest country for the sixth year in a row. Their seder, like the rest of their livelihood, is provided by the North American Conference on Ethiopian Jewry and the American Joint Distribution Committee. Their ranks have slowly dwindled from close to 4,000 people several years ago because of aliyah and death.

In Israel, thousands of Ethiopian Jews like Yehewrake and Kasse are fighting for the right of their relatives in Ethiopia to come to Israel. Only 120 Ethiopian Jews arrive in Israel each month, despite promises by politicians, condemnation of delays by the Knesset and High Court, and repeated assurances by the Ethiopian government that the gates are open.

According to the Knesset's Aliyah and Absorption Committee, 160 Jews have died in Addis Ababa since Operation Solomon, which nearly six years ago brought 14,000 Jews from Ethiopia to Israel; 49 died just this past year. At the time of Operation Solomon, the Falas Mura were left behind because according to the Jewish Agency they were descendants of Jews who had converted or assimilated or they simply didn't appear in the rough census of the community.

The Knesset Committee on Immigration and Absorption voted March 17 to bring the rest of the Falas Mura to Israel from the compound, over the objections of Yuli Edelstein, the minister of absorption. A year ago the same Knesset committee condemned the Labor government's handling of the Falas Mura issue.

"We had reason to hope that the new Israeli government would expedite the aliyah of the Addis Ababa community," says Rabbi Menachem Waldman, an expert on Ethiopian Jewry who has worked for the Chief Rabbinate to certify the Jewish authenticity of the community. "Instead, fewer Jews have come this year than the year before."

Two of the thousands waiting are Assamu, 16, Tebka's sister, and Getahun, 65, her father, both of whom are blind and were denied permission to make aliyah by the Jewish Agency and Ministry of Interior.

Tebka's story symbolizes the suffering of Ethiopian Jewish families, split between Israel and Ethiopia. "When Tebka was four months old, her mother, Tarfu, died. We took Tebka back to Dwardu, our village, to raise her," grandmother Kasse explains. "The other children were old enough to stay with their father."

Yehewrake, who Tebka calls "Gaga," continues: "In 1990 we heard that Jews should gather in Addis Ababa to go to Israel. We left our village because it was written in the Torah that all Jews will return to the Promised Land. We left everything. My whole family came: my seven children with their families, my mother, brother, five sisters, with their families, and of course Tebka…Operation Solomon brought only four of my children to Israel. When the Israelites left Egypt, entire families went to Israel."

Tebka was raised by her grandparents, she says, "until they got permission to go to Israel and I couldn't go with them."

For a year and a half, Tebka lived with her sisters Enguday and Assamu without enough money for food and clothes.

Last year, articles in Jewish newspapers across North America, including the Jewish Bulletin, brought Tebka's plight to public attention. In July, after NACOEJ sponsored a postcard campaign to the prime minister of Israel on Tebka's behalf, a fax arrived at the Israeli Embassy in Addis Ababa granting her permission to emigrate. Enguday, Tebka's 20-year-old sister, remembers, "When the fax came it had all of our names on it — me, Tebka, Assamu and Anat. But only Tebka and I were allowed to go."

A year ago, a rally was held among the battered white caravans of the absorption center at Neve Carmel, near Haifa. Tebka's grandparents were among the Ethiopian men and women gathered around the muddy courtyard to listen to Natan Sharansky campaign, preparing to exercise their right to vote in Israel for the first time. They listened avidly as the former Soviet dissident and current government minister told them: "I know what it is like to be separated from my family. Vote for me and we will bring your families from Addis Ababa."

At another election rally in Neve Carmel, Benjamin Netanyahu made similar promises. To date neither politician has delivered on his promise, according to Avraham Negusei, a longtime Ethiopian activist who has worked on behalf of the separated families. "Every Ethiopian in Israel has family among the Falas Mura; this is an issue for our entire community," he says.

International human rights lawyers Alan Dershowitz and Irwin Cotler recently sent a letter and legal brief to Sharansky expressing concern that the Jewish community of Addis Ababa was receiving discriminatory treatment. They note that the Conservative movement has recognized the community as Jewish. "It is illusory to think that the compound in Addis can simply be disbanded and diaspora Jews will quietly acquiesce," they wrote. "Ultimately the Israeli government will most likely be required to accept this community, if not voluntarily, then as a result of a decision by Israel's Supreme Court."

Tebka's sister, Assamu, and their widowed aunt, Zebader Lule Haile, are among 480 women who completed their "return to Judaism" process in the Jewish compound mikveh and are petitioning Israel's High Court demanding that their right to enter Israel under the Law of Return be recognized and acted on immediately. Each woman has submitted two certificates stating that she is Jewish, one from Waldman, the other from Chief Kess Adane, the spiritual head of the Ethiopian Jews in Israel.

While the Chief Rabbinate has recently withdrawn support from Waldman's efforts, the director general of the Ministry of Religion urged the Knesset to bring everyone in the compound to Israel where they can finish their "return to Judaism."

Enguday lives by herself in a trailer at the Neve Carmel Absorption Center, struggling to learn to read and write for the first time.

"Two days after Tebka and I left for Israel, our father Getahun and two brothers arrived in Addis Ababa. I haven't seen them in years."

With tears streaming down her face she says: "I worry all the time about my family, I miss them and cry day and night. It is hard for me to study. But especially I worry about who will take care of Assamu. I send her money."

Beaming at her grandfather, Tebka says: "Life in Israel is good but the best thing is that I got to come to Gaga. I am with my grandparents, I am eating well, I like school and I have Israeli friends. I even met my two best friends from Addis Ababa when we arrived at Neve Carmel. The only thing is that I am thinking about my family that I left behind in Addis Ababa. Please help them come to Israel."

A half dozen attempts were made to contact the Ministry of Absorption and the Ministry of Interior to comment on the status of Tebka's family and the situation of the Falas Mura. No response was received.