Driven by the rhythmic pulse of childhood play, a young Azeb Mszelo Gebrekidan once raced through the familiar landscapes of her home province in Eritrea. Then, in a single violent instant, an ordinary afternoon became a life-altering tragedy.

A fall onto a jagged rock shattered her jaw, permanently altering her appearance and marking the beginning of her life with a disability.

Now 41, Azeb has spent more than seven years living as a refugee in Ethiopia.

She arrived in 2019, just months before the COVID-19 pandemic upended lives across the globe. Since then, displacement has been defined less by refuge than by survival. To support herself, she works from home preparing and selling berbere, the fiery chili spice blend central to Ethiopian cuisine, along with shiro, a powdered legume staple.

Three years ago, Azeb joined the Tesfa Refugees with Disabilities Association during its formative stages.

At the time, the association counted around 120 refugee members with physical disabilities. But according to Azeb, the organization struggled for years to translate its ambitions into tangible support.

Since its inception, she said, the association had been trapped in administrative limbo, unable to obtain an official operating license. Without legal recognition, members could neither secure partnerships nor access institutional support.

“For three years, our hands and feet were tied,” Azeb told The Reporter. “Since we joined the association, we haven’t received support from anywhere.”

That changed in early 2026, when the organization finally secured formal registration.

“Now we have hope,” she said. “I believe things will improve because we are finally recognized.”

Even before the association gained legal status, Azeb had sought other pathways toward stability.

She joined a cooperative initiative led by ZOA, a Dutch humanitarian organization supporting refugees and conflict-affected communities. The program brought together Eritrean refugees and Ethiopian residents, offering vocational training and equipment to establish a communal bakery.

But just as the group completed its organizational paperwork, the project abruptly stalled.

According to Azeb, representatives from the NGO informed members that local police had raised objections, effectively halting the initiative before operations could begin.

The collapse of the project pushed her back into the exhausting routine of home-based labor, grinding spices and processing flour to earn a modest income.

“I just want to live a normal life like everyone else,” she said quietly.

The Association—locally known as Tesfa Yesdetegnoch Akal Gudategnoch Mahber—was established to advocate for refugees living with disabilities, a group often pushed to the margins of both humanitarian assistance and public life.

The organization aims to strengthen the dignity, independence, and social inclusion of its members while advancing their legal and economic rights.

In January 2026, the association officially secured recognition from Ethiopia’s Authority for Civil Society Organizations, marking a turning point after years of uncertainty. The milestone was formally celebrated on April 27 at Addis Ababa’s Harmony Hotel during a launch event organized in partnership with the Regional Durable Solutions Secretariat (ReDSS) and the Ethio Friends Foundation for Refugees.

The gathering brought together honorary members of the association, representatives of the Ethiopian Human Rights Commission, humanitarian organizations, donors, and other stakeholders from across the refugee and disability sectors, all assembled to witness the organization’s formal debut.

Beyond its central mission of advocacy and professional training, the association has also positioned itself as a platform for broader social collaboration.

Its bylaws permit Ethiopian citizens who share the organization’s vision to join as members — an effort the founders say is intended to strengthen legal protections, expand support networks, and deepen community inclusion for refugees living with disabilities.

Speakers at the launch event described refugee life as one shaped by structural barriers: limited access to employment, education, and financial services. For refugees with physical disabilities, they said, those hardships are often intensified by additional social and physical obstacles.

“The challenges are doubled,” several representatives noted during the gathering, arguing that the people living through those realities are best equipped to articulate their own needs and propose meaningful solutions.

“People facing these double challenges understand their problems better than anyone else,” one representative said. “They must be able to present their own solutions to the government and organizations that support them.”

For the association’s founders, collective organization is not only about visibility but leverage — the belief that a unified voice carries greater weight in negotiations with institutions, humanitarian agencies, and policymakers.

Representatives said the association was also created to raise public awareness around the lived realities of displaced people with disabilities while building partnerships that encourage full participation and empowerment within society.

Among those attending the event was Ashenafi Teklay, an honorary member who has lived in Ethiopia as a refugee for 16 years.

Speaking to The Reporter, Ashenafi said the organization endured years of bureaucratic paralysis after its first meetings began in 2022. Despite those setbacks, membership grew steadily from 127 people to more than 200.

Now, he said, the association can finally begin what he described as its “real work.”

“Without a recognized license, we couldn’t move forward,” Ashenafi said, explaining that members personally covered operational expenses throughout the years-long administrative delay.

Their immediate concern, he added, is accessibility.

“The office we currently use is on the third floor,” he said. “It is completely unsuitable for persons with disabilities.”

Ashenafi also urged humanitarian organizations working with refugees to pay closer attention to the needs of the most vulnerable members of the community, particularly those who are bedridden or unable to move independently.

A formal association, he argued, makes it easier for NGOs and aid groups to identify needs and deliver targeted support more effectively.

While acknowledging the work of institutions such as the Ethiopian National Association of Persons with Disabilities, the Ethiopian Human Rights Commission, and the UN refugee agency, UNHCR, Ashenafi argued that refugees living with disabilities remain largely underserved because their needs fall between two humanitarian categories.

“There are currently no entities specifically dedicated to people living at the intersection of displacement and disability,” he said. “There is a lot of discussion about refugees in general, but very little awareness about the greater challenges faced by those within the refugee community who have disabilities.”

The association, he added, is open to partnerships with any local or international organization willing to support refugees with disabilities.

Looking ahead, Ashenafi said the group has already submitted project proposals to organizations including the Ethio Friends Foundation for Refugees and has received preliminary assurances of support, particularly in vocational training and access to credit services.

At the heart of those efforts, he said, is a broader ambition: changing how refugees with disabilities are perceived within Ethiopian society.

“Refugees with disabilities should not be seen as a burden in Ethiopia,” Ashenafi said. “They should become assets — people capable of creating opportunities and jobs for others.”

For 64-year-old Yemaneh Abraha, the association’s chairman, that vision is deeply personal.

Born in Asmara, the Eritrean capital, Yemaneh lost one of his legs more than three decades ago during the war against Ethiopia’s Derg regime — an injury that permanently reshaped the course of his life.

One of the founding members of the Tesfa association, Yemaneh arrived in Ethiopia in 2018 after what he described as years of instability and hardship in Eritrea.

“Life back in Asmara was very difficult for a person like me,” he told The Reporter, pausing before declining to elaborate further on what he described as a painful history marked by imprisonment and systemic discrimination.

After arriving in Ethiopia, Yemaneh became involved in refugee community organizing through the Refugee Central Committee (RCC), an experience he says eventually laid the groundwork for the establishment of the Tesfa association in 2022.

Now, with the organization formally recognized, Yemaneh says his priority is moving members away from dependency and toward economic independence.

“It is to make our members self-sufficient,” he said, outlining the association’s immediate goals. “Providing training, starting micro-enterprises, and helping members stand on their own.”

Achieving that vision, he said, will require stronger coordination between humanitarian agencies, government institutions, and civil society organizations.

Yemaneh’s appeal reflects broader structural concerns highlighted in international assessments.

A December 2024 protection brief published by UNHCR Ethiopia found that refugees with disabilities continue to face significant institutional and physical barriers, while many humanitarian organizations still lack dedicated budgets for disability inclusion.

The report noted that Ethiopia hosts more than one million refugees, though only two percent are formally registered as persons with disabilities — a figure expected to rise following planned verification exercises conducted in 2025.

UNHCR also identified heightened risks of violence, exploitation, and social stigma among refugees with disabilities, while funding shortages have reduced access to specialized services such as prosthetics and orthotics — critical support for people like Yemaneh and Azeb.

Still, while Yemaneh focuses on the long-term sustainability of the association, Azeb’s concerns remain grounded in the immediate realities of survival.

“I want them to help me establish a proper place for my work,” she said.

Then, speaking of others within the community whose circumstances are even more severe, her voice shifted toward urgency.

“Those who use crutches, and especially those who are completely bedridden, need serious support,” Azeb said. “They should be given priority.”

The sky over Addis Ababa did not simply leak last Wednesday; it gave way. At the Megenagna transport hub, one of the capital’s busiest junctions, the air hung heavy with diesel fumes and humidity. Hundreds of commuters clustered under a patchwork of umbrellas, damp shoulders pressed together, all pursuing the same aim: a seat on a blue-and-white minibus bound for Bole, Gerji Mebrat Hail or Goro.

Among them was a woman in her mid-40s, moving through the crowd with visible urgency. She gripped a half-broken umbrella that offered little protection. After nearly 30 minutes in a line that advanced by inches, she managed to climb aboard a minibus.

On a rainy night in Addis Ababa, the notion of capacity is elastic. A vehicle built for 12 carried close to 20 passengers, packed shoulder to shoulder as the windows fogged with breath.

As the taxi pulled toward Goro, the fare collector—known locally as a woyalla—began calling out prices.

“60 birr to Goro. 40 to Mebrat Hail.”

The announcement was met with silence. For many, the increase was stark in a city where rising food and transport costs have tightened already strained budgets. Still, most passengers reached for their pockets, paying what had become, in effect, the surcharge of scarcity.

When the collector turned to the woman with the broken umbrella, she hesitated.

“How much?” she asked quietly.

“60 birr,” he replied.

What followed broke the subdued rhythm of the ride. The woman began to sob, her voice unsteady as she spoke.

“I only have 40 birr,” she said. “I am a cleaner. I scrub floors and toilets all day for 3,700 birr a month. My husband is a laborer. My children are waiting at home. How can I pay 60?”

The cramped interior shifted. What had been a space of silent strangers became, briefly, a place of shared witness.

She described the distance still ahead—a walk to Sefera, beyond Goro—and the arithmetic that no longer added up: a wage that could not cover transport, let alone food and rent.

Her distress prompted an immediate response. The fare collector’s tone softened; he returned her money and waved her through. Other passengers, many facing similar constraints, quietly offered small contributions.

But the moment of solidarity gave way to a wider argument. Attention turned to the forces shaping their predicament.

The driver, navigating the rain-slicked road, spoke up.

“I don’t have a choice,” he said. “Sometimes we wait two or three days in line for fuel. Other times we have to buy it on the black market—500 or 600 birr a liter—just to keep working. I have a family to support, too.”

His voice lowered as he described shrinking margins and mounting anxiety. With official tariffs rising, he said, informal fuel markets were compounding the strain.

“These illegal dealings,” he added, “will burn whatever is left.”

He also alluded to allegations that some fuel stations were withholding supply, reselling it at inflated prices after dark — claims that are difficult to verify but widely circulated among drivers.

Inside the minibus, the conversation drifted from personal hardship to broader questions.

Passengers began to speak of distant events — the war in Iran and the vulnerability of the Strait of Hormuz — geopolitical tremors unfolding thousands of miles away, now registering in something as immediate as a taxi fare between Megenagna and Goro.

As the minibus pressed on through the rain, the city remained lit against the storm. The woman fell quiet, her earlier anguish settling into a heavy, anticipatory silence.

What unfolded in that minibus reflects a broader strain gripping the country.

Across Addis Ababa, daily life has been reshaped by protracted fuel shortages. For more than three weeks, transport hubs that once pulsed with the constant churn of minibuses have slowed markedly. At filling stations, lines of vehicles — from “kitkit” Isuzus and freight trucks to taxis and Higer buses — extend for kilometers, waiting for supplies that arrive sporadically, if at all.

The disruption has rippled outward. Commuters — students, civil servants, the elderly — now spend hours searching for transport. Analysts and residents alike describe the situation as more than a logistical bottleneck; it has evolved into an economic shock that is diffusing through multiple sectors.

Fuel scarcity has driven up transport costs, which in turn has pushed the price of basic goods higher, intensifying an already acute cost-of-living strain. For low-income workers, a single trip can now absorb a disproportionate share of daily earnings.

Alongside the visible pressures of global supply disruptions, a parallel system has emerged within the city’s fuel market.

Interviews with drivers, traders and residents point to what they describe as an expanding informal network, in which fuel is diverted from official distribution channels and resold at sharply inflated prices. The allegations — difficult to independently verify — suggest collusion among some station workers, intermediaries and opportunistic traders.

Motorcycle riders have become central to this shadow supply chain, transporting fuel in jerrycans through congested streets to customers willing to pay a premium.

In the neighborhood known as 22 Mazoriya, a young man who goes by the nickname “Doctor” exemplifies this shift. By day, he shines shoes. Increasingly, he supplements his income by delivering fuel on a motorbike.

On a recent afternoon, he was seen transferring fuel from his motorcycle tank into a taxi — a transaction that has become more common as formal supply falters.

Speaking openly, he described a system that, in his account, has become routine.

“Getting fuel like this is now normal,” he said, alleging that some station employees divert supply toward informal channels where margins are higher.

He outlined a straightforward, if precarious, business model: purchasing fuel — often late at night or before dawn — at prices ranging from 300 to 400 birr, then reselling it for 500 to 600 birr to drivers and businesses unable to secure it through official means.

For him, the calculus is pragmatic.

“This has become an additional source of income,” he said. “The situation has opened opportunities for us. War is not something to welcome, but as long as this continues, there is work here.”

In response, the Addis Ababa Transport Bureau had introduced a priority allocation system, giving public transport vehicles first access to fuel. Officials also created a dedicated task force that has been deployed to curb hoarding and price gouging at filling stations.

The bureau has also urged mass transit operators to run at full capacity and called on residents to walk short distances where possible. Private vehicle owners, it said, should limit nonessential travel and conserve fuel as the country weathers the shock.

For many commuters, those measures have offered little immediate relief.

Admasu Yimer, who lives in Koye Feche in Sheger City and works in the Jemo area, describes the strain in blunt terms. Self-employed, he now spends at least four hours each day waiting for transport.

“Before, I would leave early and reach my office by 8 a.m.,” he said. “Now, after standing in lines for hours, I arrive around 10.”

The pattern repeats in the evening, he added, with long queues just to get home. The cumulative effect, he said, is eroding both income and routine. “Our income hasn’t increased,” he said. “But everything else has.”

At a consultative forum organized by the Office of the Prime Minister of Ethiopia on April 28 under the theme “Social Development for Nation Building,” PM Abiy Ahmed addressed public frustration over the persistent queues, arguing that the country has remained operational despite mounting global pressures.

“You always talk about queues,” he said. “There are queues, but fuel problems have occurred across the world.”

As a point of comparison, he cited the international aviation sector, noting that while carriers such as Lufthansa have reduced operations amid rising costs, Ethiopian Airlines has largely maintained its schedule.

“I haven’t heard people appreciating Ethiopian Airlines,” he said. “I’m not saying we should be praised, but I’ve only heard complaints while things were actually functioning.”

The prime minister also defended the government’s intervention, saying the state had absorbed a sharp increase in fuel costs — allocating roughly 20 billion birr in a single month to stabilize supply.

Despite ongoing fuel scarcity, the  government has confirmed the complete reinstatement of diesel supply to pre-disruption levels.

During his media address, Ahmed Shide, Minister of Finance, stated that at the height of the disruption, the nation experienced a 50 percent reduction in its daily diesel supply, decreasing to approximately 4.5 million liters.

“The daily diesel supply will now be reinstated to the prior level of 9 million liters per day,” he said.

In Holeta, a town in Ethiopia’s Oromia Region, farmers like Abebe Shewa and Shambel Semboka grew up watching a familiar routine. Women in their communities spent hours each day coaxing fires to life—an essential but labor-intensive task required to prepare meals.

That burden was not confined to the wider community. In their own households, reliance on traditional cooking methods meant daily exposure to smoke, rising fuel costs and time lost to gathering firewood.

In recent years, the introduction of biogas systems alongside regenerative agriculture practices has begun to alter that pattern. By converting organic waste into fuel and fertilizer, the two farmers report measurable changes in both household conditions and farm productivity.

The shift has also affected agricultural output. With reduced reliance on chemical fertilizers, fields are now sustained using bioslurry, a byproduct of the biogas process. Farmers say this has contributed to improved crop yields, particularly for vegetables such as cabbage and onions.

Livestock production has also been influenced. Treated organic waste applied to grazing land has supported denser and more consistent fodder growth compared with rain-fed or chemically treated plots.

Farmers involved in the program describe a system that integrates waste management, energy production and agriculture. Organic waste is processed rather than discarded, reducing odors and improving sanitation, while biogas replaces firewood and charcoal as a household energy source.

Despite these gains, participants say technical limitations remain. Current systems, they note, may not yet accommodate larger households or compounds, and expansion to neighboring communities will require additional investment and technical support.

Their accounts were presented on April 21, 2026, at the Skylight Hotel during the launch of a national biogas program led by Sistema.bio in partnership with SNV.

The event brought together government officials, development partners, private sector representatives and farmer groups. Organizers outlined a model that combines biodigester technology with localized implementation, aiming to expand access to clean cooking energy while supporting sustainable agricultural practices.

The system enables smallholder farmers to convert organic waste into both clean fuel and organic fertilizer. The approach is intended to reduce dependence on firewood and chemical inputs, lower household energy costs and improve agricultural productivity.

Stakeholders at the event also highlighted the broader implications for rural communities, where limited access to reliable energy continues to affect both livelihoods and environmental sustainability.

Programme representatives said approximately 150 biodigester systems have been installed to date, reaching an estimated 600 people. They reported reductions in indoor air pollution, as well as time savings in cooking and firewood collection—tasks typically carried out by women. The intervention has also contributed to lower greenhouse gas emissions, with reductions estimated at 3,300 tons of carbon dioxide.

The initiative has also generated local employment, particularly through installation and maintenance services linked to the systems.

Looking ahead, the program aims to install more than 1,600 biodigesters by September 2026, targeting over 6,000 farmers across Oromia, Sidama, Amhara and Central Ethiopia regions. Representatives said the expansion will be implemented with local partners to support adaptation to community contexts and increase awareness of the technology.

Officials from Sistema.bio said the approach centers on decentralized renewable energy systems designed for agricultural use. Representatives from SNV indicated that the partnership integrates biogas technology into broader rural development efforts, including programs focused on climate-resilient dairy farming.

Peter Simiyau, commercial director at Sistema.bio, said the company deploys biodigester systems that convert organic waste—including animal manure and household refuse—into clean energy and organic fertilizer.

He said the company has installed about 150,000 units globally and plans to expand its footprint in Africa with an additional 30,000 systems over the next five years. The systems, he added, are designed to reduce dependence on imported fertilizers while improving crop yields.

To support affordability, the company uses carbon financing mechanisms alongside digital monitoring, reporting and verification systems to track emissions reductions and system performance.

Simiyau said the combination of financing and technology is intended to make the systems more accessible to farmers while supporting transitions to lower-cost and lower-emission agricultural practices.

“By combining smart hardware with flexible financing, the program empowers farmers to transition toward a cleaner, more profitable, and sustainable future,” he said.

Marcus Dreng, project manager at Bridge Plus, described biodigesters as a productive input within smallholder farming systems.

He said the technology converts livestock waste into bio-slurry used as fertilizer while producing clean energy, creating a closed-loop system in which agricultural inputs and outputs are interconnected. According to Dreng, this approach can improve soil quality and agricultural productivity while contributing to emissions reduction in the livestock sector.

“This systemic shift not only boosts crop but also serves as a vital climate mitigation tool within a sector known for high gas emissions,” he told The Reporter.

According to Dreng, SNV’s partnership with Sistema.bio includes plans to install 1,600 subsidized biodigesters, with initial capital support and subsidies covering up to half of the cost for participating households.

He said the project is structured to stimulate a self-sustaining market that can continue beyond donor funding. The longer-term objective, he added, is to expand adoption to as many as 10,000 dairy farmers nationwide by establishing a viable commercial ecosystem around the technology.

“The aim is to set up a market system around the biodigesters. We want it to run on its own after the project funding disappears,” Dreng said, noting that SNV is exploring financing mechanisms, including carbon credits, to support affordability as the initiative scales.

Hiwote Teshome, energy sector lead at SNV, said that while Ethiopia has established energy policies, implementation remains a central challenge. She pointed to gaps in execution, particularly in ensuring that solutions are both affordable and accessible to rural households.

Hiwote said the current initiative builds on Ethiopia’s earlier national biogas efforts, which helped establish technical capacity, raise awareness and support initial adoption. The present program, she noted, incorporates lessons from those earlier efforts, including improvements in technology selection, quality assurance, financing approaches and after-sales support. She says that the program is designed to leverage previous achievements rather than initiating a complete overhaul.

“Ethiopia is exceptionally well-positioned for agricultural success, with its economy fundamentally reliant on this sector,” she stated, highlighting the nation’s extensive smallholder farming community and its distinction as one of Africa’s most rapidly expanding populations. “For agricultural producers, this initiative transcends mere energy provision; it encompasses minimizing the time dedicated to fuel collection, enhancing soil productivity and crop yields through bio-slurry utilization, decreasing household energy expenditures, and fostering resilience within their cultivated lands.”

She said broader adoption continues to face structural constraints, including high upfront costs and regulatory barriers such as import procedures and limited access to foreign exchange.

“These are policy and market issues, not technology issues,” Hiwote said, adding that coordinated action across government, private sector and development partners would be required to address them.

Dawit Haile, representing the Ministry of Water and Energy, said the initiative aligns with national efforts to expand clean energy access while promoting circular agricultural practices.

He said converting organic waste into energy and fertilizer can generate direct economic benefits for households while contributing to broader development goals. Expanding access to clean cooking solutions, he added, remains a priority due to its links to public health, environmental sustainability and rural livelihoods.

“The National Clean Cooking Program outlines our commitment to accelerating the transition to modern energy solutions,” he said, noting that biogas is among the technologies suited to current conditions.

Dawit said creating an enabling environment for private sector participation remains a key focus for the ministry as it seeks to scale such initiatives nationwide.

In the sunlit fields of Ethiopia’s Oromia region, Chaltu — whose last name is being withheld for privacy — cultivated land she depended on but did not legally control. For years, customary practices treated land as a male-held asset, leaving her, a widow, exposed to claims from her late husband’s relatives.

Without formal documentation, she could not access credit or invest in her farm, despite relying on it for her livelihood.

That changed two years ago, following the enforcement of the Rural Land Administration and Use Proclamation, which strengthened legal provisions for gender-equal land registration. Under the law, Chaltu successfully contested an attempt to take over her land.

By 2025, she had obtained a Second-Level Landholding Certificate, formally recognizing her as the sole legal holder. The certification allowed her to use the land as collateral to secure a microloan, which she invested in higher-yield teff and wheat production.

Her farm has since expanded into a small commercial operation, employing 30 women from the surrounding area. Her produce is now distributed beyond her immediate locality.

Chaltu’s experience reflects broader changes in land registration practices across Ethiopia. According to government figures, a significant majority of land certificates now include women’s names, either individually or jointly.

“For years, I was a guest on my own farm,” she said in an interview. “Now I have legal recognition.”

Her story comes as policymakers and regional officials gather in Addis Ababa to address gender disparities in economic participation.

On April 14, 2026, the Skylight Hotel hosted the 15th Meeting of the COMESA Technical Committee on Gender and Women’s Affairs, bringing together representatives from across Eastern and Southern Africa.

Held under the theme “Leveraging Digitalization to Deepen Regional Value Chains for Sustainable and Inclusive Growth,” the meeting focuses on expanding women’s participation in regional economies and addressing structural barriers.

The forum, organized by the COMESA Secretariat in collaboration with the Ethiopian government, runs through April 16 and includes officials from member states, technical experts and ministers responsible for gender and social affairs.

Discussions have centered on policy coordination, digital inclusion and strategies to improve women’s access to economic opportunities. Participants have also reviewed ongoing programs and shared national experiences in implementing gender-focused reforms.

The technical meeting will be followed by the 13th Meeting of Ministers Responsible for Gender and Women’s Affairs, where delegates are expected to assess progress and consider new policy frameworks to guide future regional initiatives.

Since its founding, COMESA has identified inclusive economic growth as a central objective, with an emphasis on integrating women into regional trade and development. In 2016, the bloc adopted a gender policy aimed at addressing structural inequalities that limit women’s participation in economic activity.

The policy is supported by a Women’s Economic Empowerment Strategy, which focuses on expanding financial inclusion, addressing barriers faced by women in cross-border trade and improving access to markets and professional networks.

Tsige Tadele, a senior gender mainstreaming officer at the COMESA Secretariat, said the strategy is designed to translate policy commitments into practical interventions. She noted that the initiative aims to strengthen financial literacy and support women in scaling small enterprises into more sustainable businesses.

A significant focus, she said, is on cross-border trade, where women account for an estimated 70 percent of small-scale traders in the region. Numerous individuals encounter various risks, such as harassment, fraudulent activities, and restricted access to regulatory information.

To address these challenges, COMESA has established “trade information desks” at selected border points. The centers provide guidance on customs procedures, simplified trade regimes and legal protections available to traders.

“These desks are intended to help women better understand their rights and operate more securely,” Tsige said. “Our goal remains to ensure that gender equality is not just a policy on paper, but a reality for all citizens in the COMESA region.”

She also pointed to measures that facilitate mobility across the region, including visa policies adopted by member states, as part of broader efforts to support trade and economic integration.

In opening remarks at the meeting, Hikima Keyeradin, Ethiopia’s state minister for women and social affairs, said the country’s national policies are being aligned with regional frameworks, including a revision of its gender policy.

She highlighted the role of digital systems in expanding access to services and economic opportunities. The government’s Digital Ethiopia 2030 strategy, she said, aims to reduce long-standing barriers by improving access to financial services, identification systems and markets.

Among the initiatives cited was the national digital identification program, known as Fayda, which provides formal identification required for accessing credit, land registration and public services. She also referenced the Mesob digital platform, which is designed to streamline administrative processes for businesses.

Officials say improvements in infrastructure, including expanded access to electricity, are also contributing to lower operating costs for small and medium-size enterprises, including those led by women.

According to the ministry, more than 53,000 users in Ethiopia have engaged with the 50 Million African Women Speak platform, a regional initiative that provides information on business registration, financing and cross-border trade opportunities.

While acknowledging continuing challenges in sectors such as health, education and governance, she called for stronger regional coordination and alignment of national strategies to accelerate progress across member states. She pointed to digital systems as a key tool in expanding access to markets and financial services.

Addressing the meeting, Mohamed Kadah, assistant secretary general of COMESA, said gender equality and women’s economic participation remain central to the bloc’s integration agenda. Citing a 2022 World Bank study, he noted that reducing gender disparities could increase gross domestic product in developing regions by an estimated two percent.

Kadah said more than 1,000 women entrepreneurs across member states have received training and technical support in sectors including agriculture and manufacturing. He also highlighted the reach of the 50 Million African Women Speak platform, which has connected hundreds of thousands of users to information on trade, finance and business development.

The initiatives, he said, have been supported by development partners including the African Development Bank and the European Union.

Despite these efforts, Kadah noted persistent gaps in access to finance, digital skills and participation in decision-making processes. He called on the technical committee to assess progress in gender mainstreaming and to consider emerging priorities, including the role of digital systems and the expansion of women’s participation in sectors such as pharmaceuticals.

He said the committee’s recommendations would be critical in shaping future programs aimed at expanding economic inclusion across the region.

In a separate interview, Maureen Miruka, director of gender equity, youth and social inclusion at the International Maize and Wheat Improvement Center (CIMMYT), said gender equality has direct implications for economic productivity and innovation.

She emphasized the role of education in expanding opportunities and noted that broader social change requires the involvement of both women and men.

“If you educate a woman, you educate the village,” she said. Beyond social shifts, she appealed to governments and international donors to move past mere awareness and toward the rigorous mechanics of policy implementation, particularly in translating commitments into measurable outcomes.

Recent initiatives linked to Ethiopia’s engagement with regional frameworks have included efforts to expand market access for women entrepreneurs. In May 2025, Addis Ababa hosted the sixth COMESA Federation of Women in Business (COMFWB) Trade Fair, bringing together participants from across the region and facilitating business connections in sectors such as agriculture and textiles.

Officials say additional efforts in early 2026 supported the integration of women-led enterprises into regional digital marketplaces, enabling participation in cross-border trade through online platforms.

Eight months after her second birthday, Meseret Bitew fell ill in a way her family could neither explain nor contain. Blood began seeping from the corner of her left eye. Within days, the eye swelled dramatically, and the pain became relentless.

Now 13, Meseret is from Sewenete Woreda in East Gojjam, in Ethiopia’s Amhara region. At the time, her family had no understanding of what they were confronting—only that it was escalating quickly.

Her father, Bitew Tesfaye, a subsistence farmer and the family’s sole provider, faced a stark choice: remain and hope for improvement, or leave for the capital in search of answers. As his daughter’s condition worsened, he chose the latter.

Shortly after the Ethiopian New Year in 2007, they traveled to Addis Ababa and sought care at Tikur Anbessa Specialized Hospital. What followed was not clarity, but a prolonged and disorienting search for a diagnosis.

“After a lot of struggle, we were first told it was tuberculosis,” Bitew said. “We followed the treatment, but she didn’t improve. The swelling got worse and began spreading toward her neck.”

Tuberculosis was eventually ruled out. The family was referred back to Bahir Dar, then again to Tikur Anbessa. Only after months of uncertainty did doctors identify the illness: blood cancer.

For Bitew, the diagnosis marked the beginning of a different kind of crisis.

“I ran out of money and didn’t know how to continue her care,” he said. At times, he carried his daughter on his back because she was too weak to walk. Living in a rented room in Addis Ababa, with no steady income, pushed him to what he described as a breaking point. “When the money was gone, I felt like giving up on everything. I was in total despair.”

Relief came unexpectedly. After nearly three years of struggling to sustain treatment, a stranger directed him to Tesfa Addis Parents Children Cancer Center, a nonprofit supporting children with cancer.

The organization became a turning point. It provided Meseret with food, shelter and schooling, while allowing her father to return home to support the rest of the family.

More than a decade into her illness, after multiple cycles of chemotherapy and radiation, Meseret’s condition has improved significantly. But the progress has not been linear.

“Just when we thought she was finished, the swelling came back,” Bitew said. She has since begun another round of chemotherapy. “It is difficult to know exactly where we are, but she is much better now than before. My daughter is a fighter, and we are not giving up.”

Stories like Meseret’s reflect a broader, long-overlooked gap in Ethiopia’s health system. For years, pediatric cancer care remained marginal—overshadowed by infectious diseases and constrained by limited resources, infrastructure and trained specialists. Facilities such as Tikur Anbessa carried the burden of care, often stretched beyond capacity.

Only in recent years have targeted efforts begun to address the gap, including initiatives led by the Ethiopian Society of Pediatric Hematology and Oncology, aimed at expanding specialized services and raising awareness.

Meseret’s story was shared publicly on April 7, 2026, during an event marking the inauguration of a new office for the Ethiopian Pediatric Hematology and Oncology Association. At the same event, Lelise Dhugaa, commissioner of the Oromia Tourism Commission, was named national honorary ambassador for pediatric oncology and hematology.

A central moment of the event was the signing of a memorandum of understanding between the Ethiopian Pediatric Hematology and Oncology Association and the Tesfa Addis Parents Children Cancer Organization. The agreement formalizes a partnership intended to combine clinical expertise with social support, addressing both the medical and non-medical burdens of childhood cancer.

Formed just four months ago by health professionals in the field, the association aims to bring pediatric cancer into sharper public focus. Its mandate includes strengthening advocacy, expanding awareness and promoting early detection—factors widely linked to improved survival outcomes. Through its collaboration with Tesfa Addis, the group is also seeking to respond to what practitioners describe as a growing incidence of cancer among children in Ethiopia.

Speaking at the inauguration, Alemayehu Girma, a physician and head of the association’s fundraising department, pointed to persistent structural constraints. Ethiopia, he said, continues to face a shortage of adequately equipped oncology centers and trained specialists. While awareness is gradually improving, he added, the system remains under strain.

Organizers said the agreement introduces a “total care” model designed to reduce treatment abandonment—a common challenge in low-resource settings. Many families travel long distances for care, only to encounter prohibitive costs for food, accommodation and basic needs.

Under the framework, medical professionals will focus on diagnosis, treatment and expanding clinical capacity. Tesfa Addis, in turn, will provide nutritional, psychological and logistical support, offering families a stable environment during prolonged treatment. The model reflects the kind of support that sustained patients like Meseret during the most difficult phases of her illness.

By integrating care with social support, the partnership aims to improve survival rates, which remain significantly lower than global benchmarks. “Our goal is to see childhood cancer survival in Ethiopia approach the global standard of 80 to 90 percent,” representatives of the two organizations said during the signing.

Lelise Dhugaa, recently appointed as honorary ambassador and herself a cancer survivor, used the occasion to challenge prevailing perceptions about the disease. Childhood cancer, she said, is often treatable, particularly when detected early.

Her role, she added, will focus on sustained public advocacy to counter the widespread belief that a cancer diagnosis is a death sentence.

“I am deeply honored to be here, especially as a survivor,” she said, describing the event as her first public appearance since completing treatment and returning home. “Being part of this effort gives me a sense of purpose—to work alongside families, health professionals and children who have shown extraordinary resilience.”

While praising the commitment of medical professionals, she also called for broader public engagement, arguing that meaningful progress depends on collective action.

Framing her role as both personal and public, Lelise said she would draw on her own experience with cancer to support broader national efforts to confront the disease.

“The most vital tool we have in this fight is advocacy,” she said. “Much of our society believes a cancer diagnosis is a death sentence. We must change that—people need to understand that recovery is possible and that survivors can go on to live full, productive lives.”

She pledged to use her platform and government networks to amplify awareness, while acknowledging the role of volunteers and ordinary citizens whose support has already altered the trajectory of many children’s lives.

“My hope is that this momentum reaches every corner of Ethiopia,” she said. “This is a fight we must take on together—for children and for everyone who needs care.”

Speaking on behalf of patients, Lelise stressed that those undergoing treatment must be treated with dignity and provided with comprehensive support throughout their recovery.

Medical professionals say Ethiopia’s pediatric oncology sector, though relatively young, has begun to expand. Specialized treatment has existed for roughly 15 years, once confined to a single unit at Tikur Anbessa Specialized Hospital.

Abel Hailu, a physician and president of the association, said that number has since grown to nine centers across the country. The workforce has also increased—from just a handful of specialists to roughly 35 doctors now in training or in practice.

Treatment options, once limited to the capital, have gradually extended to regional cities, including Hawassa, Jimma, Haramaya and Gondar.

Yet the expansion has not kept pace with demand.

“Only about one in four children with cancer in Ethiopia currently receives treatment,” Abel said. With an estimated 6,000 to 8,000 new pediatric cancer cases each year, fewer than 2,000 children reach care.

“That means three out of four are not getting the treatment they need,” he said.

He attributed the gap to a combination of low public awareness—particularly the misconception that children do not develop cancer—and persistent shortages of infrastructure and trained personnel. Despite gradual improvements, he estimates that no more than 10,000 children nationwide have ever received cancer treatment.

“Our association represents cancer specialists across the country, so that figure reflects the reach of the system as it stands,” he said. “The government subsidizes chemotherapy drugs, but we still face supply interruptions, limited radiotherapy capacity and a shortage of trained professionals.”

Tesfa Addis Parents Children Cancer Organization, founded 14 years ago by parents and health professionals, has emerged as a critical support system within those constraints. Including Meseret, the organization says it has assisted more than 3,000 children through what it describes as a “total care” model.

Its general manager, Kidist Gebreselassie, said the initiative began modestly as a “coffee and bread” program at Tikur Anbessa, providing basic sustenance to families during hospital visits. It has since expanded into a network supporting patients across seven hospitals, offering food, accommodation and psychosocial care.

The model relies on a combination of government-provided medical services, international partnerships—including support from the Aslan Project—and contributions from local institutions to help families navigate the gap between diagnosis and recovery.

Under the new agreement, Kidist said, the organization will continue to serve as a safety net for families unable to afford the indirect costs of care.

“We provide a home away from home,” she said, describing support that ranges from hygiene supplies and education to transport and emergency medical expenses.

But she cautioned that rising awareness is already placing new pressure on limited resources.

“People are beginning to understand childhood cancer more,” she said. “But as more families come forward, the system must grow with that demand. Capacity and infrastructure have to keep pace.”

She belonged to a generation of diplomats who did not reduce diplomacy to protocol, access, or maneuver. They understood it as statecraft in its highest form: the disciplined, principled, and intelligent pursuit of national interest, conducted with dignity, restraint, and strategic purpose. Konjit represented that tradition with distinction. She was one of Ethiopia’s finest diplomats, and unquestionably one of Africa’s finest.

Her death comes at a sobering historical moment. We are living through a time when diplomacy has been globally diminished, hollowed out, and in far too many places displaced by transactional deal-making. Multilateralism is under strain. Norm-based mediation has declined. Transactional approaches, short-term bargains, and interest-driven alignments are increasingly replacing serious, principled diplomatic engagement.

At the epicenter of this troubling shift lies the erosion of diplomatic culture within major global powers, most notably the United States, where diplomacy has increasingly been subordinated to coercive instruments and short-term strategic calculations. This has contributed significantly to the global weakening of diplomacy as a credible and primary tool of statecraft.

This decline is not an abstract institutional matter. It has consequences written in blood. When diplomacy loses stature, war gains ground. When foreign ministries are weakened, when mediators are sidelined, force ceases to be the last resort and becomes the default instrument.

In this sense, the passing of Ambassador Konjit is not simply the death of an accomplished individual. It feels, too, like the fading of a certain diplomatic ethic—one grounded in seriousness, intellectual discipline, discretion, patriotism, and service.

Ethiopia, produced diplomats of exceptional caliber. Ethiopian diplomacy was forged not only in the defense of sovereignty, but also in the service of Africa’s wider quest for dignity, multilateralism, and collective voice. Konjit stood firmly in that tradition.

She represented a foreign policy inheritance that was credible, professional, ethically grounded, and larger than any one regime. She served across political eras with consistency and integrity, embodying continuity where politics often produced rupture.

In serving under successive regimes—from the imperial period to the present—the Ambassador exemplified a rare and vital distinction: the difference between the state and the government of the day. Governments come and go; regimes rise and fall. But the state endures as the embodiment of a people’s history, sovereignty, and continuity. Professional diplomats, as her life so clearly illustrates, serve the state in its perpetuity. In doing so, they anchor national continuity amid political change.

She was deeply Pan-African, and deeply committed to multilateralism. She understood that Ethiopia’s strength—and Africa’s—lies in principled engagement with the world.

Diplomats are among the least acknowledged servants of the state. Their greatest successes are often invisible, because they prevent crises rather than react to them. When diplomacy works, it is quiet. When it fails, the consequences are loud and devastating.

That is why its current global decline is so dangerous. Transactional deal making has replaced principled engagement. Ceasefires without political vision, negotiations without legitimacy, and short-term bargains have begun to substitute for real diplomacy.

The African Union and African institutions must take note of a deeper and more troubling dimension of this decline. The erosion of principled, committed diplomats—those capable of serving as serious negotiators—is increasingly at the heart of the failure of mediation to avert, manage, and resolve conflicts across the continent. The passing of Ambassador Konjit should serve as a moment of reckoning. It should trigger serious reflection on the state of African mediation, the quality of its diplomatic cadres, and the trajectory of its diplomatic traditions.

It is also a warning. Africa must resist the growing normalization of transactional deal-making approaches, often externally driven and increasingly promoted through short-term arrangements that lack legitimacy, vision, and sustainability. The continent must not succumb to these approaches at the expense of principled, strategic diplomacy.

Ambassador Konjit represented the opposite of this decline. She embodied diplomacy as service, discipline, and responsibility.

She also mentored generations of Ethiopian diplomats, shaping not only careers, but values. Her influence will endure through those she trained and inspired.

Her passing should therefore not only invite mourning, but reflection.

What kind of diplomats does Ethiopia need today? What kind of diplomats must Africa produce in an age of fragmentation and crisis?

These are strategic questions.

If diplomacy is to recover, it will require the return of seriousness, principle, and professionalism—the very qualities Ambassador Konjit represented.

She leaves behind more than memory. She leaves behind a standard. A standard of patriotism, Pan-Africanism, professionalism, and principled service.

In mourning her, we honor not only her life, but a diplomatic tradition that must be sustained and renewed.

May she rest in eternal peace.

The first idea Tesfamikael Tekleberhan and his colleagues considered was straightforward: a digital platform that would provide answers to textbook questions for students.

The concept emerged four years ago, as a group of young entrepreneurs explored opportunities in Ethiopia’s expanding digital sector. At the time, the proposal appeared both practical and commercially viable.

“At the beginning, we discussed creating a platform that would show solutions to textbook questions like classwork and homework,” Tesfamikael said.

Textbooks remain central to Ethiopia’s education system, and a service offering ready-made solutions to exercises had clear market potential. But the group reconsidered.

“Although the proposed platform could have gained market traction in a short time, we realized it would not help students truly understand their lessons,” he said.

Instead of focusing on answers, the team shifted toward building a platform designed to support learning itself. That decision led to the creation of A Plus Online Tutors, an Ethiopian education technology startup offering structured tutorials for students from Grade 5 to Grade 12.

The platform is designed to allow students to learn at their own pace, a model that developers say addresses gaps in a system where classrooms are often large and teachers have limited capacity to provide individualized support.

A Plus Online Tutors has attracted more than 10,000 subscribers, each paying a monthly fee of 300 birr, according to the company.

The startup is part of a growing group of Ethiopian EdTech firms seeking to expand access to education through digital tools.

Their efforts were on display in late March 2026, when Addis Ababa hosted a High-Level EdTech Demo Day and Investment Forum, part of a broader EdTech Week held under the theme “Integrating EdTech for Inclusive, Impactful, and Gender-Responsive Learning.”

The event, organized by Reach for Change Ethiopia in partnership with Ethiopia’s Ministry of Education and supported by the Mastercard Foundation, brought together entrepreneurs, policymakers and investors focused on the role of technology in education.

Discussions at the forum centered on how digital solutions could help address the country’s education challenges, including expanding access and improving learning outcomes for millions of students.

For A Plus Online Tutors, the forum served as both a showcase and a proving ground.

Presenting to investors and policymakers, Tesfamikael outlined not only the platform the company had developed, but also the direction it had chosen to pursue. Beyond its digital offering, the startup is testing a hybrid model that combines online learning with in-person study environments.

The approach reflects broader constraints in Ethiopia, where access to devices, reliable internet and suitable study spaces remains uneven.

At the forum, the company introduced a plan to establish neighborhood-based study centers within condominium communities. The model is designed to provide students with a structured setting after school, where they can access lessons through the platform while also engaging in group-based learning.

According to Tesfamikael, students attend sessions where they use audio-visual materials, discuss lessons with peers and receive guidance from facilitators. The format also incorporates opportunities for students to present what they have learned and complete assignments within the center.

The company currently operates one study center as a pilot. It plans to expand to 30 centers across Addis Ababa within a year, each designed to accommodate up to 600 students. A further expansion to 50 centers is under consideration for the following year.

The proposed scale would represent a significant increase in access to supplementary learning spaces in the capital, particularly for students who may lack adequate study environments at home.

“These study spaces are designed so that students can access quality education in a standard and structured environment close to their homes,” Tesfamikael says.

To support this expansion, A Plus Online Tutors is seeking investment and strategic partnerships. Company representatives used the forum to engage potential backers and present the model as a scalable solution within Ethiopia’s education sector.

The event also marked 10 years of operations for Reach for Change Ethiopia and highlighted a broader shift toward building long-term support systems for education-focused enterprises.

As part of a new five-year initiative, Reach for Change Ethiopia announced grants of up to USD 60,000 for early-stage EdTech companies, alongside technical support that includes marketing training, business coaching and digital content design courses delivered in partnership with Carnegie Mellon University.

The program is structured in phases and tied to performance milestones, reflecting a broader effort to support startups beyond initial funding.

At the center of the initiative is the Mastercard Foundation EdTech Fellowship, a three-year acceleration program designed to support three cohorts of 12 enterprises each. A Plus Online Tutors is part of the second cohort.

Company representatives say the fellowship has contributed to refining their business model, strengthening partnerships and preparing for expansion.

“We have redefined the concept of educational impact, optimized our solutions to enhance the learning experience, forged strategic alliances, and made substantial progress in expanding our social contributions,” he further stated.

Government officials have also signaled support for the sector. Speaking at the opening of EdTech Week, Kindeya Gebrehiwot (Prof.) said expanding the use of education technology has “significant national benefit” and plays a role in improving both access and quality in education.

Officials from the Ministry of Innovation and Technology highlighted the government’s broader digital transformation agenda, pointing to efforts aimed at aligning technological development with social and economic priorities.

Despite growing interest and investment, structural challenges remain. Limited infrastructure, uneven internet access and affordability constraints continue to affect the reach of digital learning platforms.

Some startups are adapting their models in response. A Plus Online Tutors’ hybrid approach, which combines digital content with physical study centers, is designed to address gaps in access while maintaining a structured learning environment.

The model, however, introduces additional operational and financial demands, including the need for sustained investment and logistical coordination as the company expands.

A Plus Online Tutors reflects a broader shift among Ethiopian education technology startups, many of which are seeking to move beyond content delivery toward more comprehensive learning models.

The company’s approach emphasizes guided learning rather than answer-based solutions. This approach was echoed during discussions at the forum, where participants highlighted the potential for technology to complement and, in some cases, enhance traditional education systems.

Ethiopia’s push to expand access to education for a rapidly growing student population has placed increasing attention on such innovations. Policymakers and industry stakeholders have pointed to EdTech as one of several tools that could help address capacity constraints in the sector.

As the two-day forum concluded, announcements were made, partnerships explored and new initiatives introduced, though many emphasized that implementation remains the primary challenge.

For Reach for Change Ethiopia and its partners, the coming years will focus on translating programmatic support into measurable outcomes. For startups, the emphasis is on scaling operations while maintaining service quality.

While expectations around EdTech remain high, stakeholders at the forum underscored that its impact will ultimately be determined by how effectively solutions are deployed and sustained in real-world learning environments.

Each morning in the Ayat neighborhood, 13-year-old Abel wakes with a routine that once brought him closer to a dream: becoming a professional footballer. A devoted admirer of Lionel Messi, he used to spend his days training with friends, imagining a future on the world stage.

Now, he watches from the sidelines.

“I live with my mother. She works as a janitor. My father doesn’t live with us. I have two sisters,” Abel said. “We don’t have enough money.”

Until recently, Abel trained with a local youth initiative, the Habesha Teenager program. But after the neighborhood field was upgraded with artificial turf, access began to come at a cost.

“They told us to pay to use the field,” he said. “I couldn’t pay. My mother couldn’t pay. Many of my friends also couldn’t. Our coach stopped the training. Now I don’t train. I am worried. How can I become a good football player without training?”

Abel’s experience reflects a broader shift across Addis Ababa, where a surge in newly built and upgraded sports facilities — more than 1,500 in recent years — was intended to expand opportunities for young athletes. Instead, many families and coaches say, access is increasingly tied to the ability to pay.

Hundreds of Young Players, Uncertain Futures

At Belior 15 Meda, a once freely accessible community field, two grassroots coaches — Melese Geber and Elias Ibrahim — have trained hundreds of children at no cost for years. Together, they now oversee about 385 young players.

Both say they are under growing pressure from local authorities to transition to a fee-based model.

“We were told there are two types of projects — government-supported and private,” Melese said. “Private projects must pay to use the field.”

His team, Biruh Tesfa Soccer, has not been included in the government-supported category.

“If they include us, we would accept it,” he said. “But they have not given us any response. Instead, they want us to take money from children who have no ability to pay.”

For Melese, the shift undermines the purpose of the city’s investment in sports infrastructure.

“These fields were built to develop the best athletes who can represent Ethiopia,” he said. “Now poor teenagers are being asked to pay.”

He also pointed to what he described as unequal access. “Some government employees come and play for free for recreation, while the young players — the future of Ethiopian football — are expected to pay. That is not fair.”

Though fees have not yet been enforced at 15 Meda, both coaches said they have been told the policy will take effect soon, leaving them uncertain how to proceed.

Elias Ibrahim, who has led the Raey Be Belior project for more than two decades, framed the issue as both practical and legal.

“We have trained players for the national team and worked for decades without charging,” he said. “We train almost every day to develop future players. These directives discourage us.”

He added that the field’s modernization followed a public pledge to expand access to quality sports facilities, but said the current approach appears to contradict existing regulations.

“The regulation clearly states that youth and those who cannot pay should use the field for free,” he said. “What is happening now has no legal basis.”

A Policy Gap Emerges

At the center of the dispute is a disconnect between policy and practice.

Addis Ababa City’s Sports Facilities Administration Regulation No. 189/2017 guarantees free access for young people and those unable to pay. The regulation does not distinguish between “government” and “private” youth projects.

Yet officials acknowledge that such a classification is now being applied.

“The classification comes from a city cabinet directive,” said Mebratu Regasa, head of the Lemi Kura Sub-City Youth and Sports Center team.

That directive, however, appears to conflict with the standing regulation, raising questions about enforcement and legal consistency.

City officials say the fees are necessary to maintain the upgraded facilities.

“The reason for requiring payment is for field maintenance,” Mebratu said, adding that authorities would investigate any reports of overcharging.

Such concerns have already surfaced. A recreational user at Salayesh Meda reported paying 3,000 birr for one hour of field use — above the official maximum of 2,000 birr, which is supposed to include access to showers and toilets.

A visit to both Salayesh Meda and 15 Meda fields found no such facilities on site.

Officials said complaints should be formally reported for investigation.

Community Frustration

For residents around 15 Meda, the changes have altered a long-standing community space.

“We are from this neighborhood. We grew up here and maintained the field,” said Berhan Hailu, a local sports association leader. “Now even former players who are not part of a project cannot play unless they pay. This is not right.”

City leadership has previously acknowledged similar concerns, with the mayor pledging that youth trainees and people with disabilities would retain free access. How that pledge will be implemented remains unclear.

As Addis Ababa continues to expand its sports infrastructure, the situation at Belior 15 Meda underscores a broader question: whether a system designed to nurture young talent can succeed if access depends on income.

For Abel, the question is more immediate.

Standing outside the field where he once trained, he wonders what comes next — and whether his dream still has a place to grow.

For Keshi Gebretsadik, a priest and head of a 54-member seed multiplication cooperative, the shock was immediate and severe. A tractor—the backbone of the group’s operations—was looted. More than 1,000 quintals of potatoes rotted unsold as markets collapsed and transport routes closed.

Yet in the midst of collapse, the potato—often overlooked in Ethiopia’s agricultural hierarchy—became indispensable. It fed families, sustained labor, and provided a measure of stability during nearly two years of conflict. Even now, in a fragile recovery, it remains central to household resilience.

Keshi, a veteran farmer from Itsebi Woreda in Tigray’s Eastern Zone, began his seed multiplication initiative in 1999 (E.C.) with just 13 members. With support from regional agricultural institutions and microfinance services, the effort evolved into the Shewit Seed Multiplication Cooperative, steadily expanding its reach and technical capacity.

The war interrupted that trajectory. But in its aftermath, the cooperative is rebuilding—larger and more inclusive, now comprising 54 members with equal participation of men and women. Access to credit and improved inputs is enabling a cautious transition from recovery to growth.

A partnership with the international development organization SNV has been pivotal. Backed by a 2.4-million-birr financing package, the cooperative has already drawn half to restore operations and invest in future production.

“During the war and the COVID-19 pandemic, potatoes became a primary source of food,” Keshi said, recalling a period when supply chains disintegrated and communities were effectively cut off. “We lost our tractor, and we were forced to discard more than 1,000 quintals that could not reach the market.”

What has changed since then is not only access to finance, but to technology. The introduction of G1 generation seed potatoes—higher-quality, disease-controlled planting material—marks a turning point, positioning the cooperative for sustained productivity gains.

A parallel transformation is underway hundreds of kilometers south, in Chencha Woreda of the Gamo Zone.

There, Daniel Gomesha Goha, chairman of the Dambo Ticha GMO Seed Potato Producers Cooperative Association, has witnessed two decades of incremental change culminate in a sharp rise in output.

“Before improved seeds, we depended entirely on local varieties with low yields,” he said. Training in modern agronomic practices, delivered through SNV-supported programs, has since helped drive record harvests.

Membership in the cooperative has grown from 30 to more than 100 farmers. Its role, however, extends beyond commercial production. The group distributes seed potatoes to vulnerable households—those unable to farm due to age, illness, or lack of resources—effectively functioning as a community safety net.

Plans are now underway to scale further, with the ambition of reaching every household in the area.

These localized accounts of recovery and adaptation framed discussions this week in Addis Ababa, where policymakers, researchers, and development partners convened for the National Potato Research and Development Workshop at the Ethiopian Institute of Agricultural Research (EIAR).

Held from March 17 to 19 under the theme “Advancing the Potato Industry in Ethiopia: Innovation for Resilience, Food Security, and Economic Growth,” the gathering reflected a shift in how the crop is perceived—no longer merely a subsistence fallback, but a strategic asset in national development.

Participants emphasized the need to close the persistent gap between research and practice, ensuring that innovations developed in laboratories translate into tangible gains for smallholder farmers. The message echoed experiences from both Tigray and the Gamo Zone: potatoes are evolving from a crisis crop into a cornerstone of food and nutrition security.

The historical resonance of that transformation was not lost on attendees.

Speaking on St. Patrick’s Day, Fergal Ryan, Deputy Head of Mission at the Embassy of Ireland, drew a parallel with Ireland’s 19th-century Great Famine, when potato blight devastated a population heavily dependent on a single crop.

“The Irish potato remains central to our story of confronting hunger and inequality,” he said. “Our focus is on supporting smallholder farmers—reducing hunger and strengthening resilience by unlocking the crop’s full potential as a high-yield, nutritious, and climate-adapted food.”

Still, the sector faces structural constraints.

Reta Worku, a technical representative from SNV, warned that inefficiencies across the value chain are driving up prices and limiting access. “The potato has long been seen as a poor man’s crop,” he said. “Now it risks becoming a rich man’s crop.”

Supply inconsistencies, particularly for processors, highlight deeper systemic issues. “Not getting sufficient and quality potato for processing is a serious gap,” he noted, urging stakeholders to identify and address root causes rather than symptoms.

That call for coordination was reinforced by Sebsibe Zewdie of GIZ, who pointed to the National Potato and Sweet Potato Development Strategy (2024–2030) as a critical framework for aligning efforts across institutions.

“Sustainable and inclusive growth must center on smallholder farmers,” he said. “A coordinated approach—linking government, research, development partners, and the private sector—is essential to building a resilient system.”

Yet even as strategies take shape, implementation remains uneven.

Fekadu Gurmu (PhD), Director General of EIAR, acknowledged that Ethiopia’s agricultural extension system has historically prioritized cereals such as wheat and maize, often at the expense of horticultural crops.

“The attention given to crops like potato is still limited,” he said. Ongoing research aims to develop varieties resistant to diseases such as late blight and wilting, while also meeting the needs of agro-processing industries. Expanding extension services to deliver these innovations to farmers, he added, is the next critical step.

The observance, rooted in early twentieth-century labor movements that demanded political rights and fair wages for women, has evolved into a global platform for advancing equality. In Ethiopia, it became part of the national calendar in 1976, a year after the United Nations formally recognized the day.

Government institutions, civil society organizations, and advocacy groups now mark the occasion annually through public events, policy discussions, and campaigns focused on women’s empowerment.

For a day, women’s achievements take center stage.

But for many Ethiopian women, the annual celebration raises a persistent question: how much of the progress highlighted each March is reflected in everyday life?

While annual celebrations often highlight gains in education, employment, and political participation, advocates and researchers say deeper structural challenges remain. These include persistent gender-based violence, economic vulnerability, and gaps in institutional accountability.

Several women who spoke with The Reporter said the observance increasingly feels ceremonial rather than transformative.

Serkalem Alemu, 36, described what she sees as a widening gap between official narratives and everyday realities.

“Every year the message is the same—women are empowered, women are progressing,” she said. “But look at what is happening around us. Violence against women is still everywhere.”

Others describe a similar sentiment.

Nishan Sisayneh, who works at a beauty salon in Addis Ababa, said March 8 often feels dominated by speeches rather than solutions.

“We hear the same words every year about empowerment and equality,” she said. “But many women are still struggling with violence, harassment and economic pressure. For those women, the celebration doesn’t change much.”

According to Nishan, clients at the salon often confide in her about abusive relationships or workplace harassment but rarely pursue legal action.

“Some women feel the system will not protect them,” she said. “Others fear stigma or retaliation. So they remain silent.”

Her concerns mirror patterns highlighted by women’s rights advocates. Although awareness has grown in recent years, survivors frequently encounter barriers when seeking justice, including social stigma, limited legal support, and slow institutional responses.

Research suggests the scale of the problem remains significant.

A 2025 meta-analysis published in BMC Women’s Health, titled Gender Based Violence and Associated Factors Among Women in Ethiopia: A Systematic Review and Meta-Analysis, found that 51.3 percent of Ethiopian women have experienced gender-based violence at some point in their lives.

The study analyzed 19 separate research projects involving more than 23,000 participants, concluding that gender-based violence remains “a significant concern” across both urban and rural communities.

Other research points to similar patterns.

A 2024 mixed-methods study examining the experiences of internally displaced women in central Ethiopia reported that 31 percent had experienced gender-based violence, with many incidents occurring in displacement camps and involving intimate partners or family members.

The obstacles to seeking help remain substantial. Survivors often confront stigma, fear retaliation, or lack information about available services. Institutional constraints — including limited funding for support programs and concerns about confidentiality — can further discourage reporting.

In recent years, several high-profile cases of violence against women have sparked public outrage and renewed calls for accountability. However, advocates say the pursuit of justice often remains complex.

For Bereket Amanu, a third-year journalism student, concerns about accountability remain central to the conversation on women’s rights.

“We discuss women’s empowerment in seminars and on social media,” she said. “But when a woman reports violence, the system often fails her. That is what many of my peers feel.”

Bereket believes that without consistent legal enforcement, public campaigns risk losing credibility. “Justice should be at the center of women’s rights,” she said. “Not just awareness programs.”

Over the past two decades, Ethiopia has seen a steady increase in organizations focused on gender equality. Women-led non-governmental organizations, advocacy networks, and civil society groups now operate across the country, addressing issues that range from legal support and education to economic empowerment.

Some observers, however, question whether the growth of such institutions has translated into measurable improvements for women.

Bereket said the conversation surrounding women’s rights has become increasingly institutionalized, sometimes distancing it from everyday realities.

“There are many NGOs and civil society organizations working on women’s issues,” she said. “But the question is whether they are addressing the root problems or mainly organizing conferences and workshops.”

Students and young professionals, she said, increasingly examine the gap between advocacy language and tangible change.

“When we follow women’s issues, we often see campaigns and public events,” she said. “But when it comes to justice for survivors of violence or holding institutions accountable, progress seems much slower.”

Bereket also said the media has a role in shaping the public conversation beyond symbolic coverage of March 8.

“Journalists should ask difficult questions,” she said. “Otherwise the conversation remains at the level of celebration rather than reform.”

Gender-based violence in Ethiopia is also closely intertwined with the country’s recent political and humanitarian crises.

During the conflict in northern Ethiopia, which erupted in 2020 and became known as the Tigray War, investigations and medical reports documented widespread sexual violence against women.

Reports by organizations including Amnesty International and Human Rights Watch described incidents of rape, forced pregnancy, and other forms of abuse committed during the conflict.

Researchers and human rights groups say such patterns reflect a broader reality in many conflicts, where women’s bodies become targets of violence.

Advocates say the lack of consistent accountability for these crimes has raised concerns about persistent cycles of impunity.

Alongside legal reforms and policy initiatives, researchers say gender inequality in Ethiopia is also shaped by deeply rooted social norms.

Expectations surrounding masculinity, family authority, and social reputation can influence how communities respond to abuse. In many cases, survivors hesitate to speak publicly about violence because of the stigma and social consequences that may follow.

Studies examining the experiences of displaced women have identified stigma, gossip, and limited community support among the most significant barriers preventing survivors from seeking assistance.

Scholars and advocates say shifting such attitudes requires long-term social change — a process that extends beyond annual commemorations.

At the same time, International Women’s Day has become a widely recognized moment for celebrating women’s achievements, acknowledging areas of progress. In recent decades, Ethiopia has seen improvements in girls’ access to education, increased participation of women in public service, and broader awareness of gender equality.

Some observers, however, say that celebratory narratives can overshadow continuing challenges.

For Nishan, the difference between symbolism and everyday realities is evident. If the goal is empowerment, she believes women also need economic independence, legal protection, and social respect. “Without those things, the celebration feels incomplete.”

The symbolism of the Day remains significant for many women, offering a moment of recognition and solidarity. The broader question, observers say, is how that symbolism translates into lasting change.

Bereket said the day can still serve an important purpose if it encourages deeper reflection.

“March 8 should not just be about flowers and speeches,” she said. “It should be about asking hard questions.”

Advocates and researchers often ask why many women still continue to face violence, why legal accountability can be difficult to secure, and why policies sometimes fail to reach those most in need.

For women such as Nishan, Serkalem, and Bereket, the answers are complex. Yet their experiences highlight recurring themes in the broader national conversation on gender equality: the need for stronger institutions, greater accountability, and sustained efforts to address the social norms that shape women’s lives.

For many women, however, the measure of progress lies beyond the ceremonies — in whether daily life increasingly reflects greater safety, justice, and dignity.