𝙏𝒊𝙜𝒓𝙖𝙮 𝑾𝙚𝒆𝙠𝒍𝙮 𝘿𝒊𝙜𝒆𝙨𝒕 | October 19– October 24, 2025

This week, I have selected four topics of immense importance. The first one is one where I have talked about growing corruption in Tigray, and where I expressed my dismay. The second, almost like a positive anti-climax, is about the great deeds of the Commission on the Genocide in Tigray, where I have given highlights to my reader of its report on the abuse and brutalization of women during the genocidal war. The third topic covers the Simret’ party’s foundational meeting. And, last and least, I have shared my first-hand assessment of Dr. Eyasu Abreha, a lifetime unsung hero of agricultural development and the uplifting of peasant farming.

A. Corruption in Post-War Tigray: A Distressing Trend
(Discussed within the Ethiopian and African Context)

Imagine walking through a city where nothing can be done without paying a bribe, where even the smallest administrative service demands bribes. This is the troubling reality emerging from Tigray today. Our society is changing fast—and not for the better. At least, corruption was not rampant in Tigray in the old days —but those days seem increasingly distant.

Before going further, let me clarify what I mean by corruption. Corruption is the abuse of entrusted power for private gain. It manifests in many forms—from bribery and embezzlement to nepotism and favouritism—undermining institutions, eroding trust, and obstructing social and economic development.

In post-conflict settings, growth in corruption is almost inevitable, as gaps in accountability and scarcity of resources create opportunities for exploitation. Yet recognizing this reality cannot justify resignation. A conscious and stable government that understands the severity of corruption and acts deliberately against it is not optional; it is a compulsory precondition for recovery and sustainable governance.

Some may wonder why I write about corruption when society faces destruction, and many urgent issues remain unresolved. I find it important to note two time-tested facts. Corruption itself blocks progress; it constantly obstructs the path to any goal. In Economics, it is a well-known fact that corruption misaligns resource allocation. Moreover, with increased corruption, poverty deepens, and social injustices get rife. In the case of Tigray, even if major objectives—restoring sovereignty, returning the displaced, rebuilding infrastructure—are achieved, unchecked corruption risks taking our society to a no-return point, where the damage becomes irreversible and the foundations of governance are permanently weakened.

By the way, post-war settings do not have to succumb to corruption—they are not necessarily destined to. Rwanda offers a striking example. After the 1994 genocide, the country faced collapsed institutions, scarce resources, and widespread social disruption—conditions that could easily have fuelled corruption. Yet the Rwandan government implemented a determined and systematic anti-corruption strategy. Laws were strengthened, oversight institutions empowered, and public officials held strictly accountable. Transparency mechanisms, mandatory asset declarations, and strict procurement rules were enforced, while civic education and visible punishments helped instill a culture of integrity.

As a result, Rwanda emerged as one of Africa’s least corrupt countries, showing that even in the aftermath of extreme devastation, corruption is not inevitable if governance is conscious, resolute, and institutionally robust.

It is also sad to note that the language that long-sanitized corruption in other parts of Ethiopia has now made inroads into Tigray. Terms once used to conceal wrongdoing elsewhere are increasingly part of everyday speech here, softening the moral sting of corruption and giving it an air of normalcy. Corruption is described as “business,” kickbacks as “commission,” and small bribes disguised as facilitation payments. Even the local euphemism “money for tea” (ናይ ሻሂ) has gained currency to justify hefty payments for administrative processes. Occasionally, corrupt acts are framed as a “local contribution,” implying that extracting money or resources is somehow for communal benefit. Words do more than hide corruption—they reshape perception. But words reflect the state of the mind—they do not stand alone.

For those of you who are too young, it is worth recounting that even during the Derg era, Ethiopia had a high-visibility anti-corruption establishment called the “Serto Ader Kututur Committee.” Though party-affiliated, its presence was ubiquitous. I vividly remember the posters everywhere—one showed a woman squinting with one eye, captioned to suggest that “you are under watch.” It was a simple, almost playful image, yet it communicated a serious message: corruption would not go unnoticed. This historical memory reminds us that even in highly constrained systems, anti-corruption efforts and campaigns can be leveraged to influence societal behaviour positively.

Let me share my personal experience in Tigray—a lived experience. I arrived in December 1992, a year and a half after the EPRDF took power in Addis Ababa, to serve as a government functionary and to reside. One of the things that struck me most during the first years of my stay was the remarkable orderliness of society and the near-total absence of corruption—or even a corrupt mindset. Theft, robbery, cheating, or deception felt almost non-existent. I vividly recall leaving my car on the roadside without locking it, sometimes even with the windows down. In eight years, the only theft I encountered was when my son’s jacket was once taken.

Of course, with time, population growth, urbanization, and commercialization, some decline in these standards was inevitable. Yet I could never have imagined that corruption would grow so dramatically and become woven into the very fabric of society. Today, in Mekelle, nothing seems to happen without a bribe—not even the smallest administrative service. A friend recently had to pay Birr 20,000 to have his file retrieved from a sub-city land administration office, even though it was just around the corner. The official told him the payment was “money for tea” (ናይ ሻሂ) to cover “overtime,” as if corruption had acquired bureaucratic legitimacy. This practice now permeates offices and corners across the city.

A story from the early post-liberation period illustrates both the contrast and the cultural roots of trust in Tigray. Among the combatants—or tegadelti—cash was often handed over informally: one tegadalay delivering money to another site would report it as “one sack of money” or “two sacks of money,” just as one might count sacks of potatoes. Counting the cash was deemed unnecessary; trust and the system’s belief in you sufficed. This culture of honesty and informal accountability lingered even in civilian life. Any small instance of bribery was taken seriously and could trigger a gemgam, the government’s and party’s internal evaluation and oversight mechanism.

In this connection, I recall a July 1993 meeting when Gebru Asrat summoned bureau chiefs in one afternoon. We stayed late into the evening, discussing many issues, including corruption. In response to a suspected corrupt practice in the relief sector, we haggled at length over how it had occurred and how it could be eliminated while still at an early stage. Looking back, the energy and seriousness with which the government approached corruption during my three years as a bureau head fills me with both admiration and a pang of sadness, given how far standards have slipped today.

To put it in context, no doubt, corruption at a national scale has skyrocketed since Abiy Ahmed came to power. Across Addis Ababa, and probably across the rest of the country, government workers now take bribes openly, treating them like ordinary service fees—often under the naked eye of the public. Some even challenge the giver: “This is too small an amount; I am sharing it with my colleagues. You must push it up to X amount.” In many cases, receivers provide their bank accounts and ask you to transfer the bribe electronically, confirming receipt by mobile phone or WhatsApp. In how many countries does such a phenomenon exist?

In the past, Ethiopian officials and pundits often compared Ethiopia’s corruption to that in Kenya or Nigeria, suggesting that Ethiopia fared much better. I have never found that comparison healthy. First, corruption in Ethiopia was growing rapidly, while in Kenya, I presume it was declining. In Kenya, corrupt practices—or even suspected ones—were exposed publicly, with the entire system poised to fight corruption. In Ethiopia, by contrast, the Anti-Corruption and Ethics Commission existed, but enforcement was selective and inconsistent.

Second, the mindset is different. Ethiopian corruption tended to be subtle, often staying below the radar due to a cultural preference for face-saving. In Kenya or Nigeria, on the other hand, corruption was more overt, which made it easier to detect, report, and punish. This difference in perception and societal response matters as much as the legal framework itself.

I remember my trips to Kenya vividly. In 2001, an immigration officer briefly detained my travel companion and me for not having a vaccination card. He asked for a payment, which we made, and we were released immediately. Six years later, on another trip, an immigration officer asked me for some documents. Absent-mindedly, I reached into my pocket, and the officer reacted angrily: “Why are you sending your hand into your pocket? We do not entertain bribes here.” That single sentence spoke volumes. Over eight trips to Nairobi, I faced a bribe situation only once—on my first trip—and never again. Kenya had changed to a degree, enforcing rules, instilling discipline, and raising civic awareness. Even societies once thought deeply corrupt can improve dramatically if governance is conscious, determined, and institutionally sound.

Overall, the situation in Tigray is distressing, to say the least. The war has complicated matters, and corruption and looting have reached large scales, continuing unabated. One telling example comes from General Tadese, who recently stated that “as long as corruption is done by locals, and the money so extracted through looting and similar is invested in Tigray, it is not too bad.” This statement was made in relation to gold-related ransacking. True to what he said, nobody has been convicted or seen in court—a fact that is an ominous sign for the future fight against corruption.

People are not asking for the government in Tigray to fight corruption—that would be ideal—but we are asking it to shed even its cavalier attitude and ensure that members of the government, particularly those at the helm, are held accountable. For that matter, I do not even think Getachew Reda prioritized fighting corruption; I never heard him publicly denounce or lecture on it. Unless I missed something, I cannot pretend to have heard all his speeches.

Finally, Tigray’s reconstruction cannot rest solely on roads, bridges, or schools— no doubt these depend on the mercy of the federal government. It must also rebuild integrity—word by word, act by act—so that honesty becomes a civic expectation rather than an exception. That is within our control. Fighting corruption is by and large our fight, for which we can never create an excuse or externalize to someone else. We just need to roll up our sleeves and fight it out.

By and large, this requires politicians who openly vow to root out corruption and whose personal lives are transparent, living as exemplary models for all to see. Only through deliberate, conscious governance can society escape the grip of corruption that now threatens to become almost the norm—a grip that would otherwise obstruct Tigray’s emergence from the pitiful state in which it currently finds itself.

B. The Commission on the Tigray Genocide: A Testament to the Unthinkable

It would be amiss of me not to write a few paragraphs on the report of the Commission of Enquiry on the Tigray Genocide, officially released on October 16, 2025. The report was somewhat overshadowed by another major event — last week’s protest by TDF combatants — yet it deserves every bit of our attention.

First of all, I extend my deepest appreciation to the staff and directors of the Commission for their tireless work, especially on the issue of Sexual and Gender-Based Violence (SGBV) — a subject both deeply sensitive and vitally important. SGBV was one of the most horrific manifestations of the Tigray Genocide. From the very outset, the invading forces came with the intent to molest, rape, and brutalize women. The sheer scale and systematic nature of these crimes leave no room for doubt.

The violence unleashed upon Tigrayan women was beyond words — an atrocity unparalleled in Ethiopia’s history. During the 17-year war between the TPLF and government forces, even in an era without social media or independent media exposure, nothing remotely comparable occurred. Back then, civilians were targeted, homes were burned — yet such acts of sexual violence were not a weapon of war.

This report strikes you right at the center of your consciousness. You reel before you can even make sense of the figures. Please, hold your breath — for what follows is almost unbearable to read.

“The report found that 286,250 of 481,201 respondents (59.5%) survived at least one form of Gender-Based Violence (GBV). Among these survivors, 166,621 (58.4%) suffered different forms of sexual violence, including sexual slavery and rape. 152,108 (53.1%) endured rape, and 12.67% of them were enslaved by their perpetrators. 156,867 (54.8%) experienced psychological violence, while 104,275 (36.4%) endured severe physical assault. Among them, 975 were burned with chemicals, and 529 were killed during the assault. The report also confirms that sexual violence was perpetrated against boys and men.”

What is worse, 70% of rape survivors were subjected to gang rape. Even more horrifying, 13.37% reported assaults involving between 6 and 50 perpetrators. Ya Lateef! A significant number (12.67%) were held in sexual slavery for weeks or months, raped daily — sometimes repeatedly by groups.

Most ignominious of all, family members were often forced to witness or even participate in the assaults. Approximately 24.5% of survivors reported that family members were made to watch. Even more disturbingly, 15.23% (9,504) said that relatives were forced to commit rape against their own family members. Ya Lateef, ya Lateef!

And as if that were not enough, the report documents the deliberate use of foreign objects to mutilate women’s bodies — an unspeakable attempt to dehumanize, humiliate, and destroy their reproductive organs. The holy body of the woman was desecrated.

The perversion and cruelty of these acts have left deep, long-lasting scars — tens of thousands of women suffering from severe mental trauma, emotional devastation, and physical impairment. The collective psyche of Tigrayan society has been wounded; its very continuity is at risk. What else can one call this, if not genocide?

Those who deny the genocide in Tigray — whether through ignorance or malice — are, at best, blind to truth and, at worst, complicit in cruelty. The facts are undeniable: tens of thousands of women were butchered mentally, defiled physically, and shattered emotionally.

The report summarizes the medical consequences with chilling precision: 30.53% suffered incontinence or fistula, 48.2% menstrual disorders, 10.22% miscarriages, 18.27% pelvic pain and dysfunction, 4.85% pregnancy complications, 0.57% infertility, 10.18% sexually transmitted infections, and 6.4% were infected with HIV.

As for who committed these atrocities — that question is almost beside the point. All invading forces bear responsibility. The differences in percentage reflect only opportunity and exposure, not moral distinction. Still, for the record, the report attributes 35.78% of cases to Ethiopian soldiers, 55.63% to Eritrean soldiers, 5.75% to Amhara forces, and 0.07% to Afari forces.

Once again, they are all responsible. The Ethiopian government not only perpetrated genocidal crimes but also opened the door for foreign armies, including the Eritreans, to ravage Tigray’s people. It carries a double burden of guilt. This does not lessen the crimes of the Eritrean forces — they, too, were evil in their most naked form.

My humble appeal to the Commission: spread the word. Share this report far and wide. Prepare accessible, compelling summaries and make sure the world reads them. You have done an extraordinary job in uncovering the truth — now let the world bear witness to it.

Congratulations Yemane Zeray and staff of the Commission, for your painstaking work. You have honoured the suffering of our women — and may God bless you for it.

C. Tigray Simret Democratic Party: A New Dawn or a Familiar Echo?

The Tigray Simret Democratic Party (TSDP) — the new political force led by Getachew Reda — finally held its founding congress yesterday in Addis Ababa. The party, long rumored and anticipated for months, is largely composed of splinters from the TPLF and its Central Committee.

According to Getachew, the congress was originally planned to take place in Mekelle, as a distinctly Tigrayan party event. However, he reported that the current security situation made that impossible, effectively preventing some members from attending. Even so, over 200 delegates participated — a respectable turnout for a newly established party.

At the conclusion of the congress, 31 Central Committee members were elected. Notably, none of them participated in the 17-year armed struggle — a clear generational shift. The sole exception, Beyene Mikru, reportedly declined the position, citing both health reasons and his belief that it was time for younger leaders to step forward.

As expected, Getachew Reda was elected president of the party. Other prominent figures — Professor Kindeya Gebrehiwot, Nega Asefa (Vice President), Haftu Kiros (Second Vice President), Berhane Gebreeyesus (former mayoral candidate for Mekelle), Almaz Gebretsadik (currently serving in Tadese’s cabinet), and Seble Kahsay (appointed Secretary and Head of the Organization Office) — make up the executive committee.

What immediately strikes any observer is how closely the organizational model and style of the new party resemble that of the TPLF. The congress featured a presidium leading the meeting, a stage backdrop nearly identical to TPLF congresses, the same ceremonial shawls and capes, and — more importantly — the same hierarchical organs. Like the TPLF, TSDP has a Central Committee and a Political Bureau of seven members (the TPLF’s has historically fluctuated between seven and nine). The resemblance is unmistakable.

In terms of ideology, Haftu Kiros stated that the party’s ethos is rooted in liberal democracy. Elsewhere, I read that the party also emphasizes self-determination and group rights. These two principles are not necessarily contradictory, but they will require careful balancing to make the party’s program coherent and credible. I have yet to read TSDP’s full platform, so I withhold judgment for now. Still, the real challenge for any regional party is how to differentiate itself when most core policies are set at the national level. In truth, what should distinguish TSDP is less its written program and more the quality, integrity, and sincerity of its leadership.

Many of us would rather not rush to judgment. Let us, as the saying goes, cross the bridge when we reach it. Yet one question continues to trouble me: how can the TSDP assure its independence and integrity when its headquarters and operations are so close to Arat Kilo — in the very city where power is concentrated and where every institution is, by nature, drawn into the ruling orbit?

We caught a glimpse of this dynamic just last week in Soph-Oumer Cave, where Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed gathered both old and new Oromo figures — and also, Getachew and Tsadkan — in what appeared to be a carefully choreographed performance of unity. Strikingly, no Amharic-speaking politicians were seen (though the conversation was in Amharic 😊). In the footage, Getachew and Tsadkan seemed to nod along in their words as the Prime Minister painted a rosy picture of development and stability — a projection of calm that felt more like theater than truth. The only voice of honesty, unless the footage was edited, came from former Addis mayor Kuma Demeksa, who spoke with a rare tone of regret and concern.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the map, Tadesse Worede, Debretsion Gebremichael, and Monjorno were seen in Maichew, attending a zonal meeting on “peace, democracy, and development.” All three wore local Raya attire — a nice touch of cultural connection. Yet I couldn’t help noticing the timing. The event seemed designed to counteract the growing momentum of Haftu Kiros and his supporters in Raya, who have been rallying around the idea of local self-administration — “we want to govern our own zone.” Whether this TPLF initiative in Maichew is genuine or reactive remains to be seen. But it is all a power game, I reckon.

Even more striking is how Tadesse Worede now frequently appears leading meetings alongside Debretsion and Monjorno — a blurring of the crucial line between party and government, a principle that Getachew and Tsadkan once passionately advocated for.

Despite my concerns, I genuinely wish the Tigray Simret Democratic Party success. May it focus on the bigger picture, remain true to the ideals of democracy, and resist the gravitational pull of control from any power — near or far.

D. Dr. Eyasu Abreha, the True Public Servant, Has Vacated his Post

I have been saddened to learn that my old schoolmate, Dr. Eyasu Abreha, has stepped down from his position in Mekelle. For the past three years, he has served as Head of the Bureau of Agriculture in the transitional government of Tigray — a period of enormous challenge and responsibility.

I have known Eyasu both as a student and later in his professional life. His humility, deep love for his field, and unshakable commitment to delivering results have always amazed me — and, truth be told, often made me envious. He is a man wholly devoted to his profession, never allowing politics to cloud his scientific judgment or administrative integrity, wherever he served.

I vividly remember visiting him when he was Minister of Agriculture during Prime Minister Hailemariam Desalegn’s tenure. We had an engaging conversation in his office about irrigation, water management, and agricultural sustainability. He was open, thoughtful, and genuinely passionate about improving farmers’ lives — receptive to ideas and unfailingly positive in spirit.

Now, hearing of his departure saddens me. Whether health concerns drove this decision (he has recently faced some health challenges), by government dissatisfaction, or by his own wish to step back — only time will tell. But whatever the reason, losing professionals like Eyasu, pure technocrats who dedicate themselves wholeheartedly to public service, is a loss for all of us.

I also recall his time as Head of the Agricultural Research Institute in Mekelle, where he maintained the same infectious enthusiasm for agronomy, irrigation, and seed development. His curiosity never dimmed, and his conversations always radiated a genuine devotion to scientific progress and community wellbeing.

I wish Dr. Eyasu the very best in health and in whatever path lies ahead. Let us take a moment to celebrate professionalism and genuine public service — the very virtues that can lift our society out of inefficiency, despair, and mediocrity.