Tower in the Sky

Hiwot Teffera

Addis Ababa University Press

Addis Ababa University Press
P.O. Box 1176
Addis Ababa, Ethiopia
Tel. + 251-011-123 97 46
Fax. + 251-011-124 32 91
E-mail: aau.press@ethionetet

© Addis Ababa University Press, 2012

ISBN 978-99944-52-48-4

Printed in Ethiopia
 Acknowledgements
First and foremost glory be to the Almighty for giving me a second
chance at life. I'm also forever indebted to my family for being there for me
in those trying times. A boundless gratitude is due to my late aunt Mamite
Minda and to my sister Almaz for playing a crucial role in saving my life.
My sincerest thank you goes to so many of my friends for their
encouragement, support and inspiration while writing this book.
Samuel Kiros, Woldeloul Kassa, GiIma Getahun, Abdisa Ayana,
Fitsum Alemayehu, Birku Menkir, Alula Yimam, Aster Fisseha, Bahru
Zewde and Asfaw Seife, please accept my sincere appreciation for reading the
manuscript and for your valuable and critical remarks.
Meron Alemayehu, Yeweyneshet Suraphel, Seifu Virga, Yemesrach
Fantaw, Engudai Bekele and Wongelawit Tefera, I am most sincerely grateful
to you for your support. Ambaye Kidane, thank you so much for always
believing in me and for the encouragement you have given me to try my hand
at writing. I hope I haven't failed you.
Tadelech Hailemichael, the idea of writing this book was conceived
with you at the Emechat Bet over thirty years ago. As the saying in the
Ecclesiastes goes - There is a time for everything...- let me just say that the
time has finally arrived. You were there for me in those difficult years. I was
blessed to have a good friend and mentor like you at the time I needed it
most.
Professor Masresha Fetene, Vice President for Research and
Technology Transfer at Addis Ababa University, I offer you my deepest
appreciation for your tireless work to get this book published.
I sincerely thank Getachew Maru's friends and others, whose names I
would rather not mention (they know who they are), for their interviews and
unceasing support. Many thanks also to Mitch Moldofsky for doing editorial
work on the manuscript.
I have changed the names of most of the people, except for a few and
for those who are dead, to protect their privacy.
Farewell to you and the youth I have
spent with you.
It was but yesterday we met in a dream.
You have sung to me in my aloneness,
and I of your longings have built a tower
in the sky.
But now our sleep has fled and our dream
is over, and it is no longer dawn .
The noontide is upon us and our half
waking has turned to fuller day, and we must part.
If in the twilight of memory we should
meet once more, we shall speak again
together and you shall sing to me a deeper song.
And if our hands should meet in another
dream we shall build another tower in the sky .

-Kahlil Gibran, The Prophet

To my hero Getachew Maru

For what will it profit a man if he gains the whole world and forfeits his
soul? Or what shall a man give in exchange for his soul?
-Mathew 16:26, New American Standard Bible

To speak ofthis is painfulfor me: to keep silence

Is no less pain. On every side is suffering.
-Aeschylus, Prometheus Bound
Mystery and innocence are not akin.
-Hosea Ballo

I was afflicted with an illness when I was in high school. I didn't

know the word affliction then. But I knew how it felt. It left me with
a physical and psychological scar. I was broken and despaired of
ever filling the fissure.
I grew up and went to school in Harar (a town in eastern
Ethiopia) and to say that my last year of high school was disastrous
would be an understatement.
In the middle of the school year, I started getting severe
headaches and excruciating pain in the right side of my back, my
neck and my shoulder. I would go to school and find it difficult to
stay till the end of classes. I was either depressed and kept to myself
or put up a fight with everyone at home. I behaved erratically with
my friends. Nobody knew what was wrong with me, not even the
doctors.
Finally, lumps as big as puffballs sprouted on the right side
of my neck, on my right elbow and on my leg just below my right
knee. I had had a bicycle accident the previous year and had hurt
my right elbow and thought that was the cause of the swelling there.
As for the one on my neck, I believed it was just an angry gland. I
didn't even bother to learn what had caused the lump on my leg. To
me, it was more a matter of how I looked than anything else, and I
just made sure no one noticed the lumps I was carrying around.
My friend Martha Legesse noticed the swelling on my neck
one day and urged me to tell my mother. I did not until about a
month later when Martha saw it again and explained to me that it
was a disease. She told me she knew a woman who had a lump on
her neck, just like mine, and later passed away. I was suddenly
seized with a violent terror and flew home to shock my mother out
2 Tower in the sky

of her depths. Seeing her scream holding her head with her hands, I
thought I was going to drop dead right there and then.
I came to Addis Ababa (the capital city of Ethiopia) right
away to seek treatment and saw a doctor. He gave me some pills
and I returned after a month to take my ESLCE (Ethiopian School
Leaving Certificate Examination - a requirement to enroll at the
university). The swellings seemed to have gone down for a while.
Soon after, my life took a sudden downturn by the
unexpected death of my younger brother, Minasse, who was eight
years old and was born with a congenital heart disease. We knew all
along that my little brother did not have long to live but we never
expected him to die so young. One ill-fated afternoon, his classmate
punched him on his chest and my brother fainted. Teachers tried to
revive him by splashing water on him, They finally brought him
home and he was immediately taken to the hospital. He developed a
cough the next day, which the doctors were unable to stop. My only
brother died a week after at the hospital. A boy of rare intelligence
was my little brother Minasse.
He broke our hearts with his premature death.
After my brother died, I came back to Addis and had an
operation on my neck. The tests showed that I had tuberculosis. I
was shaken to my core. I had always been the fountain of health,
and all of a sudden, there I was hit by an illness. I felt I had
contracted the most shameful disease imaginable. I kept my
sickness a secret, as if it was taboo.
It was tuberculosis that I had.
The emotional pain was so unbearable; my sole deliverance
was to hide it deep in my psyche where even I could not reach. But
it took a load off my mind to learn that my TB was outside my
lungs. It would have been even more devastating to me had it
invaded my lungs.
 Tower in the sky 3

It has been almost two weeks since we commenced the second

semester of the 1972-1973 academic year at the Haile Selassie I
University in Addis Ababa. I was elated and proud to have joined
the university. Campus life was a distraction for my heart that was
throbbing with torment and grief. No one could see the wretched
soul behind the cheerful mask I put on in public.
Mid-way through my first semester at the university, my
sister Almaz urged me to withdraw until I finished treatment. She
worried I might fail and would not be allowed to re-enroll.
I chose to brave it out.
Every weekend I went home from campus with fear and
trembling. Besides pills and injections, I took traditional medicine.
Some of these herbs caused diarrhea and vomiting. Others were
extremely sour or had pungent odor and still others needed special
diet. Topical applications were the worst. They were painful, to say
the least. I felt as if a red-hot iron rod was driven into my bones
when an old man inserted twice a crystal-like substance (yesemai
sibari) into the small cavity on my elbow. I cried until I could cry
no more. I often feared that I would lose my sight for crying but of
course I didn't know this could happen just from crying hard.
I would go through that ordeal in the morning and go out on
a date in the afternoon with red swollen eyes. Come Monday
morning or Sunday evening, I returned to campus, elbow bandaged
but looking cheerful. Every day, I sneaked out of Sidist Kilo
campus to Arat Kilo (which is about two kilometers away from
Sidist Kilo campus) to get my daily Streptomycin shot.
None of my friends knew I did that.
My elbow resisted any types of treatment. Pills, shots, x-
rays, incisions, biopsies, alcohol, gauze, hydrogen peroxide, special
diet, sour leaves, and bitter roots became my lot. But school was a
sanctuary for me. It made me forget the smelly roots, sour drinks,
4 T ower in the sky

hydrogen peroxide, and cotton swabs. It gave me the freedom to rip

the bandage off my elbow and forget about the special diet imposed on
me.
It made me forget the ache gnawing at my heart.
How was I going to explain all that to my friends? Besides,
taking herbal medicine seemed so backward then that I did not want
anybody to know I took them.
I endured it all silently.
I wanted to know everything there was to know about my
illness. I read extensively. I even read journals such as Science
Digest in the hope of finding an explanation for my plight. On the
outside, I looked like any other teenager in the street skillfully
hiding my psychological and emotional trauma and heartache from
the world; I went on juggling my open and secret lives.
Grand dreams of becoming something or somebody sank
into oblivion. Only my positive attitude toward life and books kept
me from plunging into the abyss. I learned that life was not a bed of
roses. I retired from parties and reduced my movie consumption. I
was rebellious at home and patience was the least of my virtues.
Nursing my illness, I learned patience and self-composure even
when my heart quivered with agony. I saw my life change in a
flicker of a moment from a turbulent puberty to a painful and
haunted transition to adulthood.
I thought my life had changed forever.
Little did I know that the short trip I made two years later to
Sidist Kilo would transform my life in a way I could have ever
imagined or that the mysterious world I was suddenly thrust into
would erase all that pain.

I was very much intrigued by the sudden intrusion of mystery in my

innocent but troubled existence. Agatha Christie mystery novels
were the staple of my life in my early teens. That was the kind of
 Tower in the sky 5

mystery I was familiar with, not the sort my head was spinning with
that morning of January 1973.
It was told that I was to meet a man that day. The date was
nothing like a blind date. My cousin Elsa Woldu always set me up
on blind dates with men of all ages and trades, when I was in high
school in Harar and came to Addis for summer vacation. The date
with the anonymous person was nothing like that.
I was mystified.
I was in lecture hall #405 that January morning in the then
new classroom building (commonly called the Arts Building) with
over two hundred students. I believe it was a Psychology 101 class.
The lecture was as veiled as the thought that had inhabited my head.
I was unable to put a bridle on my imagination.
It was wandering to decipher the puzzle.
After class, I hastened to the donn with the hope of finding
my friends. To my relief, I found them waiting for me to go to the
cafeteria. I'd wanted them to have lunch early. I was still nervous
about keeping secret my rendezvous from them. Had it not been for
Tayetu, I could have confided in them. She had warned me not to
divulge to a soul that I was going to meet a man. I wondered if she
had set them up with anonymous strangers as well.
The cafeteria was noisy and packed to capacity. We got
there early and for a change got a thick red-hot mincemeat sauce
with injera (flat bread) and cabbage, the eternal vegetable side dish
on the cafeteria menu. I hastily gobbled down my lunch to make it
on time for my appointment with the mysterious person. We went
back to the dormitory and I washed my hands at one of the hand-
washing tubs in front of the shower rooms. I cast one last glance at
the mirror in the hallway before I sneaked out. I quickly tamped
down my wild Afro with my hand. There was no time to tame it. I
6 Tower in the sky

knew I didn't look bad with my dark yellow wrap-around sweater

and navy blue thin corduroy pants.

The mystery had started out a few days before. Azeb Girma, Kidist
Belay, Sara Habte and I had just come out of the campus cafeteria
and were heading toward the donn, giggling as usual, when we ran
into Tayetu Assefa and her friend, Amleset Kibrom. They were our
seniors in the university. Tayetu wore khaki pants and a safari coat,
her hair wrapped in a headscarf tied in a round knot at the back of
her neck.
"Can we talk to you guys?" she said, pasting a smile.
We shrugged our shoulders.
"Y ou are open-minded. We hear your debates at night and
we find you very open-minded." She surprised us.
My friends and I enjoyed the fiery debates in the dorm. We
argued in earnest, for instance, about how the Haile Selassie regime
dismissed thousands of grade twelve and a good number of first-
year university students by a brutal scaling system (curved grading).
When some of the girls were saying that the government was "doing
its best," we accused it of purposely dismissing students to cover up
the shortage of classes and lecturers. We had no idea that that
debate would make us worthy of the honor Tayetu had just
bestowed upon us.
She looked each of us in the eye and asked, "Would you be
interested in joining a study circle?"
Study Circle? What is a study circle? "Sure!" We were
there to experience life, after all.
"That sounds great. We will touch base again. See you
soon," she said and walked away with her friend. Her friend did not
utter a word.
 Tower in the sky 7

We sauntered to the dorm wondering about Tayetu's sudden

interest in us. Her "You are open-minded" compliment was so
unexpected we did not even talk about the invitation to join a study
circle.
It was not for nothing we were taken aback by her sudden
coziness to us. Our egos had been bruised by the less than flattering
remarks she had made about us on more than one occasion. "Why
don't you do it outside? You should be emancipated," she had tried
to enlighten us when she came to our donn one night and found us
puffing on perfumed French cigarettes, a few days after classes had
started and a couple of weeks before she tried to allure us into her
mysterious world.
It was disapproved for women to smoke at the time but most
girls did it secretly in the dorm. Only Tayetu and another girl
smoked openly on campus. But we didn't think of smoking in
public as an act of emancipation. Neither did we like anyone telling
us to be emancipated. It was in vogue on campus then to throw the
word emancipation around. We thought we were liberated doing
things on campus most girls would frown upon, We wouldn't learn
the difference between emancipation and liberation until much later,
hut when Tayetu left the dorm that night we laughed to our hearts'
content with, "Oh! I would love to be emancipated!"
We puffed on the cigarettes, courtesy of Kidist's boyfriend,
mainly for the sweet smoke, which we blew on our clothes. We kept
them in an armoire overnight to retain the scent. Sometimes we
breathed smoke into one another's Afros before heading to lecture
halls. It wasn't that we didn't have perfume. Thanks again to
Kidist's boyfriend; he had brought her three strong French perfumes
from Dire Dawa (a small town about 50 kilometers from Harar).
But we preferred the scented cigarettes for their soft fragrance.
8 Tower in the sky

Tayetu Assefa and her male friends were called Revos. But her
male friends were not ordinary Revos. They were said to be
"vanguard of the student movement." Rumor had it that they
withdrew and re-enrolled at the university every year so that the
student movement "would not lose momentum."
They had returned at the beginning of the month and had an
authoritative presence on campus. Their serious and purposeful
demeanor made the likes of me seem callow. They looked like they
carried the world's problems on their shoulders. Their hair was
disheveled and they wore safari coats and khaki pants. They always
seemed to whisper amongst themselves. They smoked Winston or
the locally made Nyala cigarettes and marched with newspaper-
covered books clenched under their armpits. I wondered why the
books were enfolded in newspaper. It was only afterwards that I
learned that they covered political books for security reasons.
Since their reappearance on campus, the ''vanguard''
squatted at the same spot every day (steps away from the campus
cafeteria) and gauged the revolutionary temperament of every
passing student. My friends and I knew they called us 'jolly Jacks."
Jolly Jacks to them were crucibles of bourgeois values and were not
up to whatever they were hatching. One day, they were perched on
their usual spot when they saw us coming up giggling, as we always did.
"Do you think these girls would join the revolution?" one of
them asked in English.
"I don't think so. They probably would become
sympathizers," replied another in Amharic.
"Exactly," said Tayetu in English.
A student overheard their conversation and tipped off
Yordanos Hailu, my friend Sara's cousin doing law at the
university. She couldn't wait to pass on the word to us. We didn't
 Tower in the sky 9

know what revolution they were referring to but we took Tayetu's

'exactly' as another blow to our egos.

It was around mid-December 1972 that I had found out, --by sheer
accident, about Revos. That was almost a month before Tayetu and
her friend Amleset ambushed us on our way to the donn. I was
sitting on a stone bench in front of John F. Kennedy library (the
Sidist Kilo campus library built with American aid) waiting for a
friend when this guy came over and sat on the lawn, facing me. He
acted as if he had known me all his life. I suppressed a smile.
"What is your name?" he asked, stretching out his hand.
"Hiwot," I answered, almost bursting with laughter and
shaking his hand.
"I am Ashenafi," he introduced himself leaning back, his
long legs stretched out and his hands planted on the ground. He was
slightly dark and good-looking with an easy demeanor.
"So ...what do you think of campus life?" he asked, studying
my face.
"Dormant," I replied, grabbing the opportunity to use the
English word that I had recently picked up.
"How so?" Ashenafi asked, raising his eyebrows in surprise.
I had such high hopes of joining the university. When I was
in high school, I had dreamed of swirling into the streets with
university students shouting slogans at the top of my lungs and
waving my fist in the air. I had marched in protest demonstrations in
Harar but somehow I always felt that the ones by university students
were the real ones. But I was intrigued by the students for not living
up to my expectations. What was all that buzz about university
students being militant? The campus was eerily quiet, with too few
students.
10 Tower in the sky

"Well, when I was in high school in Harar, I used to hear so

much about mass demonstrations and class boycotts by university
students. I don't see any of that now!"
"It is because the Revos are not here."
"Revos?"
"That's right. Revo is short for revolutionary."
Revos! They sounded like a separate species. I asked
eagerly. "Why do you call them Revos? What do they do?"
"Well... the things you just said."
"So ...where are they now?" I was excited.
"They withdrew last February. Many students were taken
into custody and the students' union and its organ were banned.
They are returning to class next month. Campus life will be
different then," he remarked with an air of certitude.
No wonder the campus is so ...dormant. Revos! Only a
couple of more weeks to go! I can't wait to see these students who
sound ever so exotic. "So...if the ones who withdrew last February
are Revos, what are the rest of the students? I mean... students other
than us ... freshmen?"
"Some are fourth-year students who have come back after
completing their National Service ... the rest are Sabos." There was
a tinge of resentment in his voice.
It was getting even more interesting. I had been over four
months on campus and didn't even know there were all these types
of students.
"Sabos?"
"Yeah, Saboteurs. They stayed behind when the rest of us
withdrew," he complained.
"So you are a Revo," I said.
 Tower in the sky 11

He grinned. "I withdrew with the rest of the students. I'm a

third-year Political Science student. I'm coming back next month. I
came to the library today," he noted, still smiling.
I was excited. I felt that he had solved the puzzle that so
intrigued me. Now I know why the campus is so dormant. I no
longer had the patience to wait for my friend nor carryon the
conversation. I mumbled something and scampered off to the donn
and my friends. I was thrilled to be the herald of such a juicy piece of
news. "Hey, did you know many students had withdrawn last
February? They are called Revos and are returning to campus next
month. And the ones who stayed are called Sabos!" I declared, bursting
into the dorm. I got my friends excited. This was information we
could use.

The university was at the time a graveyard of many dreams and

hopes. Starting in November, first-year students got jittery about
their future. Almost half of them would be dismissed at the end of
the semester with no chance of ever coming back.. What is more,
senior students demeaningly called them Fresh and taunted them
constantly about their imminent adieu to campus as the semester
drew near the end. There was even an Amharic song to mark their
departure.

"~1~1 /If: 1U'J'P

t:~1i J:~f) PD'J,)f'P

With springs in her boots, rocking to fly

Time for Fresh to leave, time to say goodbye!

At the time, male students hollered "Fresh!" at my friends

and me when we roved on campus to conquer new territories.
Thanks to Ashenafi, we now had a weapon with which to fight back.
Whenever they called out Fresh, we shot back with Sabot
No one dared call us Fresh again.
12 Tower in the sky

I joined Haile Selassie I University in September 1972. I was

registered at the main Sidist Kilo campus of the Faculty of Arts. The
campus was formerly the imperial palace of Emperor Haile
Selassie, He donated it to the newly established university. I easily
made friends with Sara, Azeb, Kidist, Mekdes, Nurelhouda and
Selarn,
It was the first time in the history of the university for teenagers
to enroll in such large numbers. I was eighteen when I joined the
university. We turned the university campus upside down toppling
the dress code for women, which was mainly skirt suit, and brought
in bell bottoms, mini-skirts, windbreakers, bandanas, sneakers,
platform shoes, and flip-flops to an unprecedented degree.
We were pioneers of fresh and casual campus life at least
that was how we felt.
Sara, Kidist and I had enormous Afros that covered half our
faces. Many students had difficulty telling us apart. We were also
nearly the same height. Somebody once remarked that it was as if
we were "trimmed with scissors." To make matters worse, Sara and
I wore the same kind of pants splashed with crazy colors.
I washed my massive Afro every day and combed only the
front leaving the back knotted. "Hiwot's hair would fall offbecause
it is never combed and Kidist's because it is combed too much,"
Sara used to say.
Kidist was obsessed with combing her Afro. She often
dashed out of the donn to the hallway with an Afro comb where two
narrow mirrors were hanging on the wall. If we were in the hallway
chatting with girls, she would dart to the dorm and come back with
her favorite accessory. On our way to class or to the lounge, if she
happened to forget something, she went back to the dorm and took
forever to get back. Sara always said, "She is probably combing her
hair."
 Tower in the sky 13

Azeb was the only one with long hair. She was also the
tallest and most fair-skinned. She let her wavy hair down and tied a
leather strip around her forehead. She wore "Smile! You are on
Candid Camera" or "Have a nice day" pins. I teased her it was
about time she outgrew "this high school stuff."
She never yielded.
Sara once came out in a miniskirt that drove the campus
crazy. Some angry vigilantes who thought she was bringing
"decadent bourgeois culture" to campus wanted to teach her a
lesson. We got wind of the plot and she ran to the donn and threw
away the offending skirt.
Diligent students buried their heads in books in the library,
while my friends and I invaded the student lounge and the kissing
pooL As a rule, we came out of the cafeteria around seven in the
evening and hung around the student lounge (which used to be the
royal stable) until eight o'clock listening to music and giggling.
Then we strolled to the kissing pool with our dates.
The kissing pool was located in front of Ras Mekonen Hall,
the opulent residence of the Emperor, now housing the Institute of
Ethiopian Studies. The fountain was so-called because it was
sanctuary to couples who made out in the dark away from the glare
of the Revos, who considered romance a frivolous pursuit. It was
also the symbol of freedom for us teenagers who had just shaken off
the shackles of parental control.
We spent hours on the lush garden, surrounding the
fountain, flattering one another and gazing at the stars. We marched
back in pairs toward the donn just before eleven and our partners
paid their tearful adieus at the "love" or "separation is death" spot,
which was a few meters away from the girls' dormitory. It was so
called for boys were not allowed beyond that spot.
14 Tower in the sky

We went to the library not so much to study as to join our

partners. We giggled, stirring frustration and anger. "This is not a
Rendezvous!" cautioned a notice, written in English and pasted on
the bulletin board. We besieged the ping-pong table at the student
lounge and the tennis court for a while scaring male students away.
No wonder the "vanguard" didn't think much of us.

It was a few days after Tayetu had tried to lure us to join a study
circle. I had just gotten back from the kissing pool and was about to
climb into my bed when she came to our dorm and motioned me to
come. She was standing in the doorway clasping the curtain that
separated our donn and the one next. I passed through the donn
following Tayetu who had disappeared into the passageway. I found
her waiting for me beside one of the mirrors in the hallway.
"You are meeting one of the study circle members tomorrow
afternoon at quarter past one. He will be waiting for you in front of
Kehas Hospital," she said, referring to Haile Selassie I HospitaL
"I've got a class at-"
"Don't worry," she interrupted me. "You won't be longer
than five minutes. You're going to set up a date to meet another
day. He is of medium height and will be wearing a yellowish-brown
corduroy jacket."
Why doesn't she tell me his name? The sense of mystery and
suspense suddenly enveloped me.
"Nurelhuda Yusuf and Mulumebet Hailemariam would be
your other study circle mates. He will tell you when to contact
them," she whispered in my ear.
Nurelhuda and Mulumebet were my year-mates. Nurish was
a friend of mine. There was no mystery there.
It was the nameless stranger who had become an enigma to me.
 Tower in the sky 15

I askedfor wonder and he gave it to me.

-Abraham Joshua Heschel

Who is he? Why would a stranger be interested in studying with us

in a study circle? What is a study circle, anyway? What can we
possibly study with him? I pondered as I hastened to meet the
mysterious stranger the next day at Sidist Kilo, where Yekatit 12
Martyrs' monument stood.
The monument was erected as tribute to the more than
30,000 Ethiopians massacred in Addis Ababa in three days in
February 1937 by Fascist soldiers as a reprisal to the assassination
attempt by two young patriots on Marshall Grazziani, the Italian
Viceroy for East Africa.
Once I passed the monument, I spotted a young man in his
early twenties and of medium height standing in front of the fruit
stall across Kehas Hospital, which was just outside of the campus.
He wore a white shirt, khaki pants and a yellowish-brown corduroy
jacket that looked too large for him. He looked confused when I
crossed the street and stood before him smiling. For a split of a
second, I thought I had come to the wrong person and let my eyes
dart around looking for a man fitting the description I was given.
But, there was no one around.
"Se/am! I am Hiwot Teffera...Tayetu..." I began, smiling
and stretching my hand. I wondered why he looked puzzled when
he knew very well that he was going to meet a girl.
"Yes... Yes ...My name is Getachew... Getachew Maru.
How are you?" he interrupted me, shaking my hand with a timid smile.
"I am. fine."
"Can we go somewhere ...where we can talk over coffee?"
"I've got a class in a few minutes," I told him, as if skipping
classes was not my favorite pastime.
 Tower in the sky 17

had never conceptualized that as a movement. I had no sense of

politics and my only 'engagement' with it was when I took part in
protest marches in high school. Even then, those titillating rallies
were more of an outdoor activity to me than anything else was.
I had other serious undertakings at the time such as going to
the movies and organizing parties or being invited to them every
weekend and of course reading books. I knew those outings to the
streets were directed against the government but I didn't understand
any of it. It was the sheer sense of adventure that lured me into the
chaos in the streets. Besides, that was what high school students did
at the time. Losing face was my Achilles' heel. I knew I had to use
my imagination and save me the embarrassment.
I ramped up my confidence and gave it a try. "We held
protest demonstrations and class boycotts," I began and looked him
in the eye. His eyes smiled at me, which I took to mean a signal for
me to go on.
"We were in grade eleven. The boys gave us sticks which
they ripped off trees in the back of the classrooms to whip the
soldiers with. We marched out of the school compound swinging
the sticks. We didn't even go far. The soldiers came out of nowhere
and chased us with their clubs. We threw off the twigs and fled!"
He chuckled tilting his head backwards. The lions in the zoo
burped and roared. I got somewhat jittery. It was my first time to be
in the zoo.
"I loved those rallies," I went on boldly, "My childhood
friends Yodit and Martha and I never missed any of them. OUf

mothers scurried around town looking for us with their netelas

dangling from their shoulders ..."
"I'm sure they were terrified."
"Yeah, but it was annoying to us, you know. One Saturday
morning, I was home lying on my mother's bed reading The Millon
18 Tower in the sky

the Floss, when I heard someone shout my name. I went to open the
door but it was locked from outside. I jumped out of the window
and saw Martha and Yodit standing behind the fence."
"Wow!"
"I didn't even know why I was locked in. Anyway, my
friends informed me that Alemaya Agricultural College students
had marched from Alemaya to Harar. Have you been to Harar?"
"Never. 1 would love to go someday, though."
"Alemaya is a fifteen to twenty-minute drive from Harar,
We found the students assembled in front of the Ministry of the
Interior. "
Saturday morning was a working day in the country in those
days and the Governor was expected to be in.
"Many students from Harar had joined them," I continued.
"They demanded the Governor to come out and respond to their
demands. Somebody else appeared on the balcony and said
something which I can't remember and urged us to disperse. I don't
know how long we've been there ...the police came and drove us
out of the area. My friends and I saw a man whom we knew by
sight and called him. He gave us a ride home in his Land Rover."
1 looked at him and he seemed to be amused. I fancied I
could go on hoping what I recounted so far had to do everything
with the student movement.
"I once distributed leaflets in the school compound," I said. I
didn't know what else to say about the student movement in Harar.
"Leaflets? What kind of leaflets?" He seemed interested.
"They were thin strips of paper tom from exercise books.
We wrote about the upcoming demonstration and disseminated
them ...1 was elected class representative to the Student Council
when I was in grade eleven. I went to a Council meeting once and I
was the only female there. I could understand very little of what was
 Tower in the sky 19

being said. One of the students reported that university students in

Addis had boycotted classes and we should too. He said something
about the need to 'focus' on something. I forgot what it was. I was
so impressed with him for using the English word focus."
Getachew burst out with laughter again.
"Honestly, I guess that was what I took away from that
meeting. The next day at the end of class and before we went out for
recess, I reported to my classmates that I was at the Council meeting
the day before and had to make an announcement. Some of them
said, 'Enashinena, who elected you to the Council?'"
Getachew howled with laughter and bashfully said, "I know
that is a Harar thing." He couldn't obviously say Enashinena out
loud, which is almost profanity to non-Hararians.
"1 am telling you. They were the ones who elected me. I was
so mad I told them to shut up. I received blows from at least four
boys that day. I never went back to Council meetings again."
"So much for your political career in high school, huh?" he
remarked with a shy smile.
"There was this teacher called Mekonen Hagos," I went on,
"he was doing his National Service at our school at the time."
The commonly called National Service was the Ethiopian
University Service Program instituted to address the shortage of
teachers in the country. University students were required to fulfill
this compulsory program upon completion of their third year.
Engineering College students were required to do theirs when they
completed their second-year. I would later learn that Getachew had
done his National Service in Dejen, a small town in the province of
Gojjam in the north-western part of Ethiopia.
I immediately noticed similarity between Mekonen and
Getachew. He wore khaki pants and Mekonen used to wear khaki
20 Tower in the sky

too. Besides, I saw something in him ... something I couldn't put my

finger on ...something about him that reminded me of Mekonen.
"Mekonen made political speeches at school," I began. "My
friends and I hardly missed any of them. We didn't understand any
of it. Actually, we were not in the least interested in his speeches.
We just wanted to have a glimpse of his handsome face. We always
strategically positioned ourselves in a crowd so that he could easily
spot us. We stayed late after school to see him referee a volleyball
match. He always greeted us with a smile. One morning, I think it
was around recess, we learned that he had been shot dead by a
security agent the previous night, while walking with a student.
They said that he was shot by a gun with a silencer because the
student didn't hear a shot. The only thing he saw was Mekonen
falling to the ground."
Getachew listened with a frown on his forehead and signaled for
me to go on.
"The entire school went into a frenzy," I continued. "A
student was standing in the midd.le of the school compound that
morning carrying a bunch of wilted pink flowers. The students
maintained that another student had brought the flowers to
Mekonen's class the previous day. When Mekonen saw them, he
had said to his students, 'These flowers will shrivel by this time
tomorrow weeping for me.' The student who had the flowers was
making a speech about socialism and communism to a group of
students. My friends and I said to one another, 'Why don't we
become political?' We went over and asked him to explain to us
what socialism and communism meant. I cannot even remember
what he'd taught us. We were grieving at the time; we wanted to
convert instantly into something Mekonen believed in. All of us
went to the funeral that day and did not return to class for weeks.
We were mourning for Mekonen so my friends and I wore black. A
 Tower in the sky 21

few days later, my mother warned me that we would be thrown in

jail if we didn't take off our black dress. I refused."
"You were stubborn," he ventured timidly.
"You could say that," I muttered and continued. "Shortly
after my mother's warning, I bumped into this police captain on my
way home and he cautioned me that we would be in trouble if we
kept wearing our black dress. I just shrugged my shoulders and took
off. He was so angry he blurted out, 'Who cares ... you are the one
who is going to rot in jail.' 1 didn't even look back. He was the one
who'd told my mother about the jail thing."
Getachew listened with rapt attention. I gathered I might as
well go on with my attempt at explaining the student movement in Harar.
"A week or so after Mekonen was killed," I went on, "I
think it was around four-thirty in the afternoon ...my friends and I
were coming from somewhere when Ayele, a student we knew from
school, joined us and informed us that his friend, Mamo, has just
been apprehended by the secret service. While we were talking
about Mamo, a Beetle Volkswagen slowly passed by and we saw
him sitting in the back seat! My friends and I hurried home to
change our black dress."
Getachew laughed to tears, took out a white handkerchief
from his pocket, and dabbed his eyes and nose. I wasn't going to
stop. For all I knew, he was enjoying himself.
"There was this interesting student as well at school. His
name was Assefa. We were in grade ten at the time. He would lie
down on his side on the ground and talk about a Greek
philosopher... Socrates? Every day he posted on the wall a drawing
of the philosopher lying in bed. He claimed Socrates was on his
deathbed after drinking poison. He fascinated me but at the same
time, I thought he was cuckoo. He often talked politics, addressed
us in English at the morning or afternoon assembly, and always
22 Tower in the sky

started off his speech with, 'Students, Ethiopia needs its own
freedom. Don't you think so? Even a donkey needs its own
freedom. ' He pronounced needs and students as 'needis' and
'studentis' ... the way Tigrians do. He too was political."
"What is your take on the national question?" Getachew
asked, recovering from his bouts of laughter.
"The national question?"
"Yeah... for instance the Eritrean question?"
Oh my God! What is this all about? I didn't know there was
a question regarding Eritrea. Of course, I knew the government has
been fighting with what it called Eritrean "agamidos" - an Amharic
term meaning bandits. But I had never conceptualized it as a
question.
"I know the government is fighting the Eritrean bandits.
I've heard from some Alemaya College lecturers that Eritreans want
to separate from Ethiopia."
"Alemaya College lecturers?"
"Yes. They always talked politics. They were all educated in
America. They used to give us, particularly to one of our friends,
pamphlets like Challenge, Combat and Tatek. They said Ethiopian
students abroad published the pamphlets. We never really bothered
to read them. There used to be fights between Amhara and Eritrean
students at the Alemaya College campus. My maternal uncle, who
is now a police colonel, used to go there from Harar in the middle of
the night whenever a fight broke out. He would make peace and
come back. He refused to imprison students, for which he was
transferred to Eritrea as a punishment."
"Interesting!" he exclaimed.
We were quiet for a few minutes. He then broke the silence.
"I am sure Tayetu has disclosed to you about what we would
be doing."
 Tower in the sky 23

"She wanted to know if my friends and I wanted to join a

study circle. I don't even know what it is."
I still didn't know what a study circle was. Azeb had made
a bit of inquiry about it. She'd asked someone thinking that he
might know about study circles. All he knew about was "mass
organizations" not study circles. We didn't even know what a mass
organization was.
"Well...we will [ann a group and study Marxism and
Leninism. Are you familiar with it?" asked Getachew.
"No! Never heard of it."
"Communism?"
"I heard about it for the first time in fourth grade. It was all
nonsense, though." I said, waving my hand.
"You knew about communism in fourth grade?"
"It was all nonsense. We had a teacher whose name was
Redwan. He used to tell us that Russia and China are Communist.
People there do everything together. They even eat in the cafeteria
together."
"He told you all that when you were in grade four?"
"Sure he did! He was arrested later on. They said he was
accused of planting a roadside bomb, when Janhoy was going to
Kulubi for the annual 81. Gabriel's day celebration. You know the
Emperor goes there every year, right? My friend Yodit and I saw
our teacher once with other prisoners escorted by police when we
were passing by the police station he was held at. Since that day,
Yodit and I sat on top of the stone wall surrounding the station
every day in the hope of seeing our teacher again. We never did. I
don't exactly remember when but we later learned that he was
executed."
I knew I didn't make sense talking about fourth grade
communism. I needed to say something profound. "I remember
24 Tower in the sky

reading Readers Digest ... I was fourteen at the time," I started with
mounting confidence. "I learned to hate Communists because of
what I read about Alexei, the little Russian prince, who had
hemophilia. I cried bitterly when 1 learned that the boy was
executed along with his family. I hated the Communists for killing
the royal family."
I was intent on impressing him and making up for my
ignorance about communism. "I liked the Black Panthers ... Bobby
Seale, Jesse Jackson, Hugh Newton, Stokely Carmichael, Eldridge
Cleaver... ," I went on. "I admire Angela Davis. I have read Soledad
Brother, which my high school French teacher gave me, maybe five
times and I still find it very moving."
I almost let him know that I walked around campus Soledad
Brother on top of my books making sure that everybody saw it.
George Jackson had touched my heart as no one had because of the
way he died. Roaming around with his book was my way of telling
the world 1 had outgrown the Harold Robbins and Jacqueline
Susanns, unlike some of my year-mates.
There was nothing to stop me. "My cousin had subscriptions
to Time, Newsweek and Readers Digest. I used to borrow the
magazines from him. That was how I learned about the Black
Panthers, Martin Luther King and Malcolm X."
"Y ou know about the Civil Rights Movement; I am
impressed," he said with a shy smile.
I didn't know what I knew about the Black Panthers was
called the "Civil Rights Movement." I knew what the Black
Panthers were struggling for but again it was this inability to
conceptualize that exposed my ignorance. Perhaps I was more
impressed by the pictures than by the contents of the magazines.
Readers Digest was different. I read it from beginning to end.
 Tower in the sky 25

Movement, question! I just met him and I was already

learning something new.
It was getting dark. He looked at his watch and shook his
head with a smile. "I can't believe we've been here for five hours! It
is six o'clock. I forgot all about my appointment."
"I forgot about my class."
When we got up to go, he reminded me to bring "the two
girls" at two o'clock Sunday afternoon to a house in Afincho Ber.
He accompanied me as far as the main campus entrance and left.

I thought about what had happened all afternoon on my way to the

dorm. I was impressed with Getachew for asking me my opinion on
serious issues such as the student movement, the Eritrean question
and communism. No one had ever asked me my opinion on
anything.
I felt important.
He is certainly different. What did he think about those
matters, anyway? It didn't even occur to me to ask him. He looks
like the Revos on campus except that he has not returned to campus.
I wonder why he has not. He didn't even tell me why we should
study what he called Marxism/Leninism.
I meant to ask him what it meant at some point but I was
carried away with my own prattling. Marxism/Leninism! It sounds
exotic! I wondered what it was all about. I brimmed with excitement
with the prospect of studying it and couldn't wait to see Getachew again.
I had always had this sense of wonder, an insatiable thirst
for knowledge and self-development in me. I thought books hid in
them the key to my quest. I read anything and everything I could lay
my hands on. I wanted to read and possess all the books in the
world. I read all the time, even during some classes such as math. In
grade eleven, I memorized quotations and ran around with Best
26 Tower in the sky

Quotations For All Occasions tucked in my armpit. I did almost

everything my friends did but deep inside I knew none of it was for me.
My friend Y odit Abebe told me that I once said to her, "I
would rather do something about my own life than watch somebody
else's," when she came home and suggested that we go to the
movies as we always did on weekends. We were then in grade ten. I
was reading Montezuma 's Daughter, according to Yodit. I must
have been in a bad mood. But she thought it was the most profound
thing that ever came out of my mouth.
I was embarrassed for talking so much in front of Getachew
whose modesty I found disarming. I couldn't remember blabbering
so much in front of anyone. He didn't say much. He just asked
questions and listened patiently to my gibberish all afternoon. Why
did I talk so much? It wasn't like me at all. I hoped he wouldn't
think I was talkative, much worse a harebrain!
He seems unassuming but there is something about
him ... something mysterious. He might be someone who reads
books. Reading was the true love of my life and men who read
ignited a spark in me. 1 would definitely study this Marxism thing
with him.
I had no idea he would open up a new horizon of
consciousness for me.
 Tower in the sky 27

The essence ofcreated things is to be intermediaries.

-Simone Weil, Gravity and Grace

I went home for the weekend and came back to campus on Sunday
around one-thirty in the afternoon ready to go and see my mentor in
Afincho Ber, I found Nurish and Mulumebet in the dorm. We exited
the campus via Prince Beedemariam Laboratory School (commonly
called Lab School) and hurried down the street that led to Afincho
Ber.
Afincho Ber, a neighborhood located at the west side of
Sidist Kilo campus, was known for its large university student
population, particularly male. It is steps away from the campus. The
university had a dorm shortage and gave a twenty-birr stipend for
out of campus rent expenses. Many students rented out "student
houses" in the vicinity.
We found the house easily as per Getachew's direction. It
was one of the row houses positioned a few meters off the street. I
knocked on the door and Getachew opened it slowly and quietly as
if trying to not wake someone up. He greeted us with a shy smile,
let us in, and closed the door behind him. He politely introduced
himself to Nurish and Mulumebet.
The one-room house was tiny and clean but dark, with the
lone window closed. There were beds on opposite sides of the room
and a small, rectangular table with four chairs in the middle. There
was nothing much in the house except for men's clothes neatly
stashed in a comer, and books.
A sense of mystery was hanging in the air.
Getachew asked us about campus life, after we had settled
on the chairs. Nurish did most of the talking. I remained quiet. I was
trying to recover from the embarrassment of talking too much the
last time.
28 Tower in the sky

"We will be studying Historical and Dialectical

Materialism," Getachew announced abruptly, his voice cracking
with timidity. "We will start off with Historical Materialism."
He explained Historical Materialism as the study of society
whose development is marked by stages, moving from lower to
higher forms. Society has progressed from the primitive communal
system to slavery, feudalism and then to capitalism, he explained.
"Each of us has to make a presentation on a topic. We
should come to the weekly sessions well-prepared, even if we are
not presenting. Next Sunday, we will take up the first chapter,
which looks at the primitive communal system. I will chair the
meeting but chairmanship will rotate thereafter. When we are done
with Historical Materialism, we will move on to Dialectical
Materialism which is the study of natural phenomena," he stated,
looking at us timidly.
Presentation? Chairing a meeting? That was more than I
bargained for. I found Historical and Dialectical Materialism
intimidating, as they sounded high-flown.
As if that was not enough, he cautioned us with, "Whatever
we are doing should be kept secret."
Secret? I was stupefied.
"Read the first chapter and take notes. I will see you all next
Sunday at the same time," he added, giving us a handout.
All that took about two hours. On our way out, he reminded
us to read the chapter on the primitive communal system. He took
the latch off the door, opened it slightly, peeked his head out, and
let us out.
We got out of the compound giggling and nudging each
other. "He is so shy he made me nervous, wallahi!" Nurish
whispered to us. We looked behind us every second to see if he was
watching us.
 Tower in the sky 29

V(e thought it was funny. Why would he want to study with

girls he doesn't even know? We also felt edgy about the seriousness
with which he spoke about reading handouts and taking notes. We
didn't even take lecture notes properly. I hated the idea of chairing
meetings. "Why doesn't he chair the meetings?" I asked. But most
importantly, we were mystified and scared by the "It should be kept
secret" warning.
It was indeed an uneasy moment.
I got the idea that study circle was not something to joke
around with. But I was curious at the same time. I wanted to know
what lay behind all that. I didn't say anything to Azeb, Kidist and
Sara about our first session when I saw them the next day. If they
had been to theirs, they did not say.

The following Sunday, Getachew greeted us with a broad grin when

he opened the door for us quietly, just the way he did last time. I
suspected he didn't want to draw attention from the neighbors.
He wore an off-white shirt with the sleeves folded up. I
noticed his full lips were dry and even chapped. I wondered why he
didn't put Vaseline on them to smooth them.
Once seated, he asked after our health and school with a
timid beam. I felt he hid his shyness behind a smile. After a brief
and awkward silence, he gave us an elaborate description of the
primitive communal system.
He comported himself with utmost courtesy and seriousness.
He was no longer the bashful man who earlier opened the door for
us. He looked bold, businesslike and purposeful. I got a glimpse of
his commitment to whatever he was doing. His notes were
meticulously written in a hundred-page exercise book. He carefully
flipped through the pages, while speaking.
30 Tower in the sky

I got the message that he expected us to take the matter as

earnestly as he did. I wondered why he had to go through all that
trouble to teach us MarxismILeninism. Is he ever going to tell us
why we should study it?
When he was done, he became the self-conscious and
demure person who let us in earlier. I noticed that he averted his
eyes trying to avoid mine. Why doesn't he look me in the eyes like
he does the others?
He asked us if we had questions or comments. We stared at
him with blank faces.
"Who would want to go next? The next chapter deals with
slavery," he said at last.
No one uttered a word. We sat there like frightened children.
"Hiwot would you like to go next?"
I thought my heart was going to burst out of my chest. My
immediate reaction was to say no but that would be embarrassing
myself further. I fixed my eyes on him with a nervous silence. He
mistook that for a "yes" and told us he'd see us next week. I took
the assignment with fear and trembling. I would rather have had one
of the other girls gone before me.

I didn't so much as glance at the handout during the rest of the

week. My spare time was divided between the lounge and the
kissing pool. I went home for the weekend Friday evening and
skimmed through the handout on Saturday.
I was disconcerted, to say the least, by what I read. I found
slavery offensive to my sensibility. How could a human being own
another? I knew a few people in Harar who had barias - slaves -
but it had never occurred to me they actually owned them.
Getachew must explain to me this scandalous piece of
history tomorrow.
32 Tower in the sky

him that we didn't know. I had to go on with my presentation,

which I hadn't looked at the entire week. He saw that I was
struggling so he did most of the explaining.
When we were done, he enjoined us strictly that we should
not bring handouts to the classroom or the student lounge. "It is a
question of life and death," he promptly added.
I was petrified. Why would something as benign as a
description of societies be a "question of life and death?" There
isn't any reference to the Emperor. It was true that we brought the
handout to the classroom and the student lounge stuck in our books.
I wondered who could have tattled on us.
I couldn't wait to tell Azeb.
Getachew then asked Nurish if she could take on feudalism
at the next session. She boldly said yes.
I was impressed.
"See you next Sunday," said Getachew as he opened the
door forus.
On our way to the dorm, Nurish and I talked about the, "It is
a question of life and death" forewarning. We couldn't figure out
what it was all about. I was a bit frightened but curiosity got the
better of me.
I needed to know where those sessions were taking us.
The next morning, I revealed to Azeb what Getachew had
said about bringing handouts to the student lounge and the
classroom. I learned that their "guy" had cautioned them too. Their
"guy" was Getachew's counterpart in their study circle. Azeb and I
came up with a shortlist of rats. Her boyfriend loomed large. He
was our year-mate and active in campus politics.
We would never find out.

1973 was a promising year. It was already March and the

atmosphere on campus was tense. The Revos had somehow
changed the climate. They seemed ever serious and busy God only
 Tower in the sky 33

knew doing what. The leisurely mood that informed campus life in
the first semester was slowly being overtaken by restlessness. There
was something brewing. Animated 'interested group' discussions
were taking place in the dorms and elsewhere on campus. The
reinstitution of the students union - University Students Union of
Addis Ababa (USUAA) - was one of the hot agenda items.
One afternoon, my friends and 1 were coming from the Arts
Building when we saw Alemzewd Araya, our year-mate,
surrounded by a group of people in front of the campus cafeteria.
She was being interrogated about her Pentecostal beliefs and
activities. I wondered why they were cross-examining her about her
beliefs.
A few days after that incident, a contingent of girls, under
the commandership of Tayetu, banged on the door at the study hall
where Alemzewd and fellow Pentecostals were singing. Azeb had
participated in the banging expedition.
That night Etemete, our guardian, burst into the donn in a
housecoat and a black hair net over her curlers when she learned
about the bashing of the study hall door. She lectured us about the
rules of engagement in the dorm. She then said, pointing to Azeb,
"You should not be led by others!"
Azeb was standing in the middle of the room in her snow-
white nightgown and white headscarf. She was so angry; she
stepped forward and indignantly shot, "I am not led by others. I can
think for myself."
"Wonderful!" cried Etemete with sarcasm. We convulsed
with laughter. I was watching the drama from my bed. We mocked
Etemete with ''wonderful'' for days to come.
One morning, quite a few days after the door-banging
incident, Azeb, Sara, Kidist and I were on our way to the student
lounge when we bumped on Tayetu. She loudly asked us if we
34 Tower in the sky

would like to come to a clandestine meeting that night. "Come to

the Law House," she added when we accepted the invitation. After
she left, we made fun of her with, "Oh! I would love to go to a
clandestine meeting!"
Even we knew it was ironic to say clandestine loudly.
We went to the meeting but did not pay attention to most of
what they were saying. We laughed and giggled all the time. We
laughed particularly at one of the students in a black dressing gown.
We thought he was showing off. We were invited another day and
we did the same thing. Tayetu never invited us again to those
meetings. We were not sure if it was due to our bad manners or if
the meetings were discontinued.
At the time, I did not know there was a relationship between
the grilling of Alernzewd about her religious beliefs and the door
punching operation and the "clandestine" meetings and those were
reflections of the doctrine informing campus politics and part of the
overall instability on campus. It hadn't yet crystallized in my head
either that there was a connection between what the Revos were
doing on campus and my studies with Getachew.
I just took things at their face value.

Nurish did not show up for her presentation on feudalism. That was
the fourth Sunday since we started our sessions with Getachew and
two of the girls had already dropped out.
"Getachew... I don't think Nurelhuda is coming anymore.
She says the session is conflicting with her studies." I broke the
news to him.
I felt awkward sitting with him in a semi-dark room. He
stole a few furtive glances and cleared his throat several times. I
looked up at him every time he did so, thinking that he was going to
say something. We sat quietly for a few minutes and then he cleared
 Tower in the sky 35

his throat again. He looked past me. "That is fine. So what did you
learn about feudalism?"
I didn't expect he would fire back with a question. I was not
supposed to chair the meeting so I had read only random paragraphs
of the handout. I fumbled in my bag to look for my new exercise
book dedicated to Marxism. I had scribbled a few things, while
struggling to make sense of the material.
"I am not prepared. It wasn't my tum to chair the meeting."
"We are expected to come prepared even if we don't have
to chair meetings. Does that mean you haven't read the chapter at all?"
There is no getting around -this guy! "I have... It is just tllat
I did not read through the entire handout."
I had by now learned new terminologies such as mode of
production, relations of production, productive forces and means of
production. However, I could not see the relevance of studying all
those complex terminologies. I could have dropped out of the study
circle like Nurish and Mulumebet were it not for him. I thought he
was brilliant. Besides, if he was so keen on what we were doing,
there must be something more to the study circle thing, I thought.
He took charge and went on and on about feudalism and
introduced me to some new vocabulary such as absentee landlord,
serfdom and vassals, but only got me interested when he suddenly
made a link between feudalism and Ethiopia. For the very first time,
I leamed that Ethiopia was a semi-feudal country ruled by an
absolute monarch.
It was quite a revelation.
I learned that one percent of the population in eastern,
western and southern parts of the country owned over ninety
percent of the land. I was incensed when Getachew explained to me
that these people lived off the sweat of the majority of the
population, who toiled for a meager subsistence and were not even
36 Tower in the sky

able to send their children to school and they often died of disease
and malnutrition.
I felt a nameless feeling surging upon me.
I thought the slave owner was scandalous and odious for
treating people as "chattel." I found the feudal lord no less heinous.
Sitting in that darkened room I made a mental inventory of all the
rich people I knew that could fit the description of the rusty creature
called feudal lord. Only one person came to mind.
"I know a feudal lord ...1 mean based on what you just said.
His daughter is a friend of mine at the university. But he is a nice
person. He recently brought cake enough for all the girls in the
dormitory. I thought it was nice of him," I put forth. It wasn't clear
even to me why I said that.
"We are talking about a social system," he said, crinkles
forming in the comer of his eyes. "In any case, he might be good as
a person but remember that he is part of the system, a system that
oppresses and exploits people. Once an egg is rotten...it is rotten.
You cannot crack it and separate the good from the bad. You have
no use for it once it is rotten."
It was so overpowering, I squirmed. I will never say anything so
stupid again.
He came along with me to the university campus around
seven in the evening. We stopped at the entrance of Lab School.
"I am sorry the girls dropped out. I will ask them if they
would like to come back." I didn't know what else to say.
"Hiwot, you don't need to be apologetic. It is not your fault
if they don't want to come anymore. We can't force people into
something like this, you know. If they want to come back, they are
most welcome. If not, that is fine too. We've got to be patient," he
advised, looking away.
 Tower in the sky 37

We stood in the dark silently for a few minutes. It felt so

awkward.
"Right now," he began, casting his gentle eyes down, "right
now... my only concern is you. You have something going on. I see
something in you that I haven't seen in the others. I know you will
go far. Can we meet Wednesday afternoon? It would be your tum to
make a presentation. We will be looking at capitalism."
"Sure, I've got nothing to do. H
"See you at five o'clock then."
"My only concern is you." I muttered, almost aloud pacing
toward the dorm. What did he mean by that? The way he said you
was so ...loaded. Why does he avoid my eyes while talking? He
always does that. He seems to be terrified of me. For a flicker of a
moment I had a sneaking suspicion that he might indeed like me.
But I dismissed the thought immediately. That must be the last thing
on his mind. I was in awe of him for expanding the realm of my
consciousness and for quenching my thirst for knowledge. I was
enchanted by his mysteriousness and fascinated by his brilliance.
He was of a different breed and I knew I could fall for that very
easily.
He had not yet unveiled to me why we should study all those
social systems. But he had definitely aroused interest in me in
something I had not yet defined. I felt something stirring in my soul.
"1 know you will go far." What did he mean by that? Where am I
going?
I was perplexed, nevertheless excited.

I came home Monday night to read the handout in the privacy of my

home. Tuesday morning, I decided to miss my classes and had to
pretend that I had an exam on Wednesday so that my sister Almaz
would not ask me why I was home. I copied down almost
38 Tower in the sky

everything from the handout into my exercise book by way of

taking notes.
Capitalism appeared to be modern and sophisticated, and its
mechanisms much more complex than the previous systems. There
was a dizzying array of terms I had to wrestle with: bourgeoisie,
petty-bourgeoisie, proletariat, labor power, capital, use value,
exchange value, surplus value, alienation, commodity fetishism...
What was Getachew thinking?
I was apprehensive about the day ahead. I got out of bed
early Wednesday morning to go over my notes. I didn't think
anything had registered in my head. I left before my sister and my
brother-in-law came back from work for lunch. I went to campus
and killed time between the donn and the student lounge, then went
to Afincho Ber to meet the young man who'd made me tum pages
like no teacher.
I knocked softly at exactly five o'clock. He let me in with a
jovial smile. The book he was reading was sitting open on the table.
He folded the page, while asking after my health, closed it, and put
it on the side.
"So...are you ready?"
Oh my God! He is always in a rush to get started! But then
for the first time I realized that he did that because he was nervous.
"I don't know... ," I murmured. I hoped he would exempt
me from what I figured was a formidable task.
He laughed.
I pulled out my exercise book from my purse but was
nervous about opening it so that he wouldn't see my bulky notes. I
wished I knew how to take notes like him. His were neat, brief and
underlined.
"We will do it together." He alleviated my anxiety.
I was enthralled when he swung me up and down the
capitalist landscape. I was fascinated by both the creativity and
 Tower in the sky 39

industriousness of the bourgeoisie and by Getachew, who broke

down those intimidating concepts into everyday language. I found
the bourgeoisie impressive but a scoundrel no less than the landlord
or the slave owner. I reckoned he was sneaky and his machinations
subtle when Getachew explained to me he had turned the peasant
into a wage laborer and paid him for only some of what he
produced, while keeping the surplus for himself.
Nevertheless, it was some consolation to know that the
worker would snatch power from the hands of the bourgeoisie
through revolution and assume leadership, called the dictatorship of
the proletariat. It will then usher us into a mighty age of socialism -
the transition to communism - where we will taste the joy of
freedom and private property and ownership will be abolished when
we open the gates of heavenly communism. What was even more
reassuring was that the triumph of this kingdom is inevitable. Oh my
God! Where have I been all this time? Good thing 1 met Getachew.
The discussion became even more interesting when
Getachew made a connection between capitalism and Ethiopia. He
said, "Ethiopia is a semi-feudal country with rudimentary capitalist
development." He talked about the "penetration of capitalism" in a
"predominantly agrarian society."
When we were done, we sat in an awkward silence. He
didn't know what to say to me. The only time he forgot himselfwas
when he started the discussion. He became animated and forgot who
I was. I might have been just another man as far as he was
concerned.
We left and strolled as far as the main campus entrance. A
few students were hanging out at the gate. Getachew slowed when
we approached them. He asked if I would want to go out with him
for lunch on Saturday. All of a sudden, he seemed to be in a rush.
He then asked me if I have ever been to Harar Migib Bet.
40 Tower in the sky

I said no. I suspected he didn't want the students to

recognize him.
"It is around Nazaret bus station. You know where the
Chinese restaurant is ...the one around Legehar.. .right? That is
where Harar Migib Bet is. Let's meet in front of the Chinese
restaurant around noon?" he suggested, talking rapidly and
extending his hand.
"I will be there," I said, shaking his hand.
"See you then," he mumbled and turned around.
I took a couple of steps toward the gate and wheeled. He had
vanished. Where did he go? Strange!

On Saturday, I was standing on the sidewalk in front of the Chinese

restaurant when I saw him coming. He was wearing his usual
yellowish-brown corduroy jacket and khaki pants. His face was
lighted up with a happy smile. We headed toward Harar Migib Bet
quietly. The restaurant was small and secluded. We sat in a comer
and placed our order.
Getachew seemed a bit more relaxed than usual. I was
thinking about this sudden change when he abruptly said with a
gentle warmth in his voice, "Hiwot, I am pleased with the way our
discussion is going but I am concerned about your increasing
quietness."
I looked up and our eyes met. His eyes radiated tenderness. I
felt my heart skipping a beat But he quickly looked away. I was in
love with him but had become very much afraid of him. I not only
loved him but also admired him. I had never met anyone who talked
like him. I was taken by his timidity, humility and decency. As I
learned more about him, I talked less for fear of making a fool of
myself. I gathered up my nerves. "I'm intimidated by the vast
 Tower in the sky 41

knowledge you have for your age. I am so ignorant and I don't want
to make a fool of myself like I did the first day we met."
"I thought you knew a lot more than I expected. I was
actually impressed that day. I am only learning myself," he said,
warmth mounting in his voice.
We sat quietly for a few minutes. My heart kept beating
rapidly. I shifted from side to side in my chair. I was too scared my
body language would betray my feelings. In the semi-dark room at
Afincho Ber, I had hoped that the darkness would somehow cover
what was written allover my face. But here at Harar Migib Bet, I
felt it was out for him to read and that made me nervous. I had taken
extreme care not to show him the bearings of my heart, not just yet.
It wasn't that I had difficulty expressing my emotions. He was so
serious and focused on what he was doing, any sentiments of the
heart seemed out of place.
I had started thinking less about my affliction since I had
started my studies with Getachew. I had been feeling as if the
weight was slowly, but surely, lifting offmy shoulders.
"So Hiwot, tell me about Harar. I've heard stories about
Harar and ye Harar lijoch. You are very sociable, gregarious and
generous. I know a few students from Harar and I think they fit the
descriptions. Now that I know you, I would like to know more
about the place." He expressed his interest with his usual gentle and
shy smile.
"Oh, I don't know. There are so many funny stories... like
what usually takes place at Feres Megala, the bus terminal," I said slowly.
The waiter placed the food tray and our drinks on the table
and left. I looked at Getachew once again and his relaxed mood
helped my nerves settle down. He laughed copiously when I told
him funny stories about Feres Megala.
42 Tower in the sky

As of that day, it became a ritual for us to dine at Harar

Migib Bet every Saturday or Sunday. He let his guard down when
we met there. He was not the serious, awkward, and stiff man he
was in the semi-dark room in Afincho Ber. Harar stories broke the
ice and eased the tension created by timidity. I often exhorted my
brain to remember the funniest stories. I noticed he laughed easily
and with abandon. Seriousness gave way to tenderness and the
sense of ease.
I often wondered why we went only to Harar Migib Bet. It
was a modest place but nothing like the ones I went to. At the time,
Lalibela, Harambe, Peacock, Flamingo or Hotel d' Afrique were the
places to be, not Harar Migib Bet. I still didn't know why we had to
study Marxism. I still found him mysterious.
Harar Migib Bet added to the mystery surrounding him.

One Sunday evening around mid-Spring, Getachew and I were

silently ambling toward the main campus, after our usual session,
when he suddenly said, "Hiwot, we might not be able to meet at the
Afincho Ber house anymore."
"Oh!"
"Why don't you call me at my parents' house on Tuesday
night? I will let you know where our next meeting will be. Have
you got a piece of paper?" he asked, grabbing a pen from his shirt
pocket.
I gave him my exercise book set aside for Marxism. He
wrote the number in the back and returned it to me. I wondered why
we wouldn't meet there anymore. It was all in his eyes. He was not
going to disclose anything. He has so much to hide! I realized that I
had to live with what I was given.
"Why don't I give you mine? Just in case ... ," I suggested.
"Good idea!" He brightened his face with a smile.
 Tower in the sky 43

I tore a sheet from my exercise book, wrote my phone

number and gave it to him. We said goodbye and I hurried to the
donn.
I called him Tuesday night from a payphone. He suggested
that we meet the next day in front of Kidist Mariam Church at
Amist Kilo (mid-way between Sidist Kilo and Arat Kilo campuses)
at five in the afternoon. He took me to one of the student houses
behind Engineering College when we met on Wednesday. The
house was even smaller and darker than the one at Afincho Ber. It
had a bed, a small and dilapidated table, and four chairs. We
continued to meet there every Wednesday afternoon for our regular
study sessions and had lunch on Saturday or Sunday at Harar Migib Bet.

April 20, 1973 was a momentous day that marked the return of the
Revos to the campus political scene and my own ascent to social
and political awareness. Mekdes and I were on our way to class
when we saw a massive crowd in front of the Arts Building. We
stopped by to see what was going on. We heard students speaking
animatedly and quickly joined the crowd. Sara, Azeb and Kidist
were somewhere behind us. The crowd began to swelL All of a
sudden, it turned into the largest gathering I had ever been in.
News about a ravaging famine in the provinces ofWollo and
Tigray had been sweeping through the capital city like wildfire. The
assembly was called to protest against the famine. It was primed by
the shocking pictures of emaciated children and adults posted at the
Arts Building.
There had been an influx of the famine-stricken to the
capital city. The government had remained conspicuously silent on
the famine for months. It was preoccupied with beautifying the
capital city for the so" birthday of the Emperor, celebrated in July
1972.
 44 Tower in the sky

Standing beside Mekdes, my heart fluttered with excitement.

I had been dying to witness a day like this. Mekdes and I pushed our
way to the front of the crowd, where I saw a student with a huge
Afro, khaki pants and safari coat speaking and wagging his index
\, finger in the air. "Hundreds of people travel hundreds of miles on
foot every day from the famine-hit areas in search of food, children
among them! Hundreds have perished on their way over and their
bodies are strewn along the road, and yet the government was
beautifying the city for the so" birthday of the Emperor!"
Another student came on, angrily accusing the government.
"The famine and death from the drought were preventable. The
government has deliberately covered up the existence of the famine
from the public and the world."
I was mesmerized by the passionate speeches. One by one,
students spoke until their Afros appeared as dandelion pappus ready
to fly off their heads. They demanded that the government
acknowledge the existence of the famine. They recounted harrowing
tales of human suffering. "People, including children, are barred
from entering the capital, as they had been a few months ago, while
Addis Ababa was being electrified with neon lights for the
Emperor's birthday," they charged.
We were outraged by such an affront to human dignity.
"Bread!" a shout went up from the crowd. "For the hungry!"
we rumbled, raising our fists in the air. "Bread!" somebody yelled
out. "For the hungry!" we rocked the campus with a thunderous
roar.
I glanced swiftly over and saw an anny truck full of Fetno
Derash - riot police - entering through the main campus entrance.
They got off the truck with lightning speed. They had riot gear:
white helmets, grey shields and sturdy batons. I had never seen their
kind in Harar, where their counterparts had wooden clubs but no
 Tower in the sky 45

shields or helmets to protect them from stones with which students

pelted them.
Ever since I saw the Fetno Derash, I was thinking about
Mekdes. I was worried she might not be able to run fast enough
with all that weight. I tried to figure out how I could run and at the
same time help her run. It would only be a matter of time before the
fearsome soldiers pounced on all ofus.
An officer addressed us over a megaphone urging us to
disperse. "Stay put!" "Don't move!" shouted some of the students.
There was a commotion; no one seemed to know what to do. "Don't
move!" "Stay where you are!" the students kept saying. OUf eyes
were riveted on the riot police, who kept glaring at us like a lion
ready to pounce on its prey. The voice on the megaphone once
again goaded us to disperse. "Don't move!" someone in the crowd
shouted. No one moved. Boom! Everyone took flight.
I looked for Mekdes but she was nowhere in sight. I kept
frantically looking for her until I saw her sprinting, at least fifty
yards away. It was no time to wonder by what magic she had
managed to run that fast. I started running before the soldiers could
catch up with me, but tripped over blades of grass and fell. I could
have been trampled by hundreds of students had it not been for a
man who picked me up with one hand and kept running. I didn't
even have the chance to see his face.
Dozens of students rushed into a building close to the Law
School. I dashed in without even thinking. The place was full of
canvases. I found a large one leaning against the wall and hid
behind it, occasionally poking my head out. I saw a bewildered
looking man standing in the middle of the room watching as his
sanctuary was invaded by panting students. I later learned he was a
deaf-mute artist.
46 Tower in the sky

I came to realize I had made a mistake hiding there when I

saw soldiers burst in, swinging their batons. One of them tossed my
canvas aside, grabbed me by the arm and pushed me outside.
Another came to assist him--as if his colleague was no match for
me! They beat me up with their batons and kicked me with their
boots even after I fell onto the ground. I thought doomsday had
finally arrived. It was the first time I had been beaten up. Compared
with this, the demonstration in Harar was a picnic in the park. The
soldiers finally left me lying on the ground. I was struggling to get
up, when two male students came over and helped me up. They
accompanied me to the dorm.
I found Sara, Kidist, Azeb and the other girls in the donn
safe. They were telling their escape stories when Mekdes emerged,
tears rolling down her cheeks. Two soldiers had found her squatting
behind a car and escorted her to the dorm. When they got to the
"love spot," one of them gave her a good lash on her behind as a
gesture of a wann farewell. It was so painful' she cried.
We had a good laugh on it.
My hands, shoulders and knees were swollen and very
painfuL My friends had to call my sister's house and Gash Tedla,
my brother-in-law, came over and drove me home. When I came
back after a week, I learned that my status among the "vanguard of
the student movement" had been elevated. The day I came back, I
was sitting with a friend on the pavement at the "love spot," when a
couple of the "vanguard" came over and expressed their sympathy.
One of them even wondered how I had survived "those heavy
boots."
I indeed survived "those heavy boots." More importantly,
April 20 became a landmark in terms of my understanding of social
and political action. All the demonstrations that I was part of prior
to that were sheer adolescent adventurism. I was never able to grasp
 Tower in the sky 47

their real significance. For the first time, I came to understand that
even students could pressure a government to bow to their demands.
The government was compelled to acknowledge the existence of the
famine and forced to become part of the relief effort.
Nothing could quell the indignity we felt about the famine.
We gave up breakfast for the semester so that the money could go
towards famine relief efforts. The university fanned the Famine
Relief and Rehabilitation Committee and teachers gave up ten
percent of their salary towards the famine relief.
The "Hidden Hunger" became public knowledge.
After we gave up our breakfast, my friends and I started
going in the mornings to a Pasty Bet - teahouse - located north of
the university campus. Breakfast at the student lounge had become
unaffordable, We visited the lounge three or four times a day, and
adding raisin cake and tea on top of the daily expense of Coke or
Pepsi became beyond our means. My friends often dispatched me to
try our luck making money by setting our year-mate Alernzewd's
hair. She gave me one birr every time I did; it bought us four bottles
of Coke: "It is okay. I will go to the hairdresser," Alemzewd would
often tell me. I knew and she knew that I always did a terrible job of
setting her hair. She needed me only when she was desperate.
Going to the Pasty Bet was cheaper. We had breakfast for
only sixty cents - fifteen cents each. We paid five cents for Pasty -
sweet bread balls fried in oil - and ten cents for tea. I always
managed to give a five-cent tip to the young boy, who served us and
at times let me pour tea from the dark and huge kettle wiggling on
the red-hot embers in the alcove. I loved my tea scalding. We often
made a joke out of the yellow Macaroni displayed on the counter.
"Oh, I would love to have yellow macaroni!" It was cooked with
turmeric and oil and looked very unappetizing.
48 Tower in the sky

The Pasty Bet was a small place with a dirt floor and a few
dilapidated chairs and tables. To our dismay, some campus male
students started having breakfast there too. We didn't like the
intrusion. In a way, going there was our way of saying we were
liberated. No self-respecting woman went to a Pasty Bet unless you
were like Yodit and I, who subsisted on weekends on samosa sold at
a Pasty Bet. But that was in Harar when we were in our mid-teens.
My friends and I became severely constipated because of the
oil drenched Pasty. We had to leave our favorite retreat and go to The
Castle, next door.

Getachew always gave me a book which he expected me to read,

take notes and come for discussion. He would ask me what I
thought about it. I unfailingly replied, "It is good." It was one of the
most dreaded moments of my life. He would smile and say, "Good
is not an answer. What did you learn about it? What did you or
didn't you like about it?" I read the books over and over so that I
would be able to say something smart about them. At times I didn't
understand half the contents of some of the books. Other times, I
simply hated them but didn't dare tell Getachew. Nonetheless, he
would always strike a discussion with passion about any of the
books he gave me to read. He would explain everything gently and
patiently.
One thing was certain; he had aroused in me an interest in
what we were doing and most importantly in being with him. It had
been almost five months since I started my apprenticeship under
him and I had made strides in my studies. New words and phrases
such as "chauvinism," "sphere of influence," "geopolitical interest,"
"focoism," "protracted armed struggle" and "Soviet revisionism"
had been added to my repertoire. I learned about the French,
Russian, Chinese, Cuban and Vietnamese revolutions. I picked up
names such as Bolsheviks, Mensheviks, Trotsky, Narodniks,
 Tower in the sky 49

Decembrists, Kulaks, Soviets, Iskra, Pravda, Jacobins, Rosa

Luxemburg, Karl Liebknecht, Clara Zetkin, The Comintem,
Kuomintang, Che Guevara and Ho Chi Minh.
Those were glorious times on campus too. Books by V.G
Afanasyev, Franz Fanon, Amilcar Cabral, Agostino Neto, Regis
Debray, Paul Sweezy, Harry Magdoff, Leo Hub ennan, Ernest
Mandel, Edgar Snow, Fidel Castro, John Reed, Granma and Peking
Review were widely read, besides Karl Marx, Friedrich Engles,
Vladimir Lenin, and Mao Tse Tung. Reeds' Ten days that shook the
world and Veneceremos (Che's speeches and writings) were
sensations we were all infatuated with. These books were brought
into the country by the student network.
I recall reading a biography of Che, whose title I could not
remember. It shook me to my core. I felt an instant identification
with his affliction. My heart went out for the revolutionary icon
who suffered from asthma. He was not just a guerrilla fighter to me
serenaded in the streets and on campus but an afflicted man whose
experience resonated with my own.
Getachew once gave me Frantz Fanon's The wretched ofthe
earth, from which I scooped ideas about colonialism and
decolonization which I had never heard about. Cabral was
assassinated a few months earlier and Getachew spoke about him
with great reverence and sadness. He said Cabral was one of the
"greatest revolutionaries of all time."
One day in early spring, when he and I were having lunch at
Harar Migib Bet, I took a book from my purse and asked ifhe had read it.
"No, I haven't," he said.
There is a book he hasn't read! I was too excited to notice
the frown on his face.
"Where did you get it?" he asked, taking it from my hand.
50 Tower in the sky

I looked him in the eye and what I saw dampened my

excitement. "I bought it from Mercato .. . from second-hand book
sellers," 1 answered resignedly.
He tucked the book into his jacket pocket without saying
anything. It was confiscated for all I knew. I didn't know what to
think or say. I knew he liked Mao. The book was entitled The true
face of Maoism by Fyodor Burlatsky. I suspected that he didn't
want me to read a critic of Communist literature before I had firmly
planted my feet in it. I wondered what possessed me to go out and
buy such a book.

That June, I informed Getachew that I was going to Harar for the
summer.
"I am sure you will bring Harar stories with you. Are you
taking the train?"
1 said, "Yes, I always do. I love traveling by train. It is so
much fun. The most interesting aspect of traveling by train is the
cat-and-mouse game between the contrabandists and the Finance
officers. "
There was a contraband stretch starting from the port of
Djibouti and transiting through Dire Dawa to Addis Ababa. Besides
linking the country to the outside world, the railway was key to the
thriving of the illegal trade. The railway was built during the reign
of Emperor Menilik II with a 99-year lease to a French construction
company and the then Swiss advisor to Menilik,
"Tell me about it," Getachew cajoled me eager to hear my
train stories. So I did and he laughed until tears were dripping down
his cheeks. "When are you leaving?" he managed to say at last.
"As soon as I finish class... that is what ...in two weeks?"
"Let's meet on Wednesday and talk about Lenin's State and
Revolution. I'm sure you've finished reading it by now."
 Tower in the sky 51

"I have," I lied and quickly added, "I'm not sure I've
understood everything." I started reading the book but found it very
tedious and didn't have the appetite to go on. I never found Lenin as
interesting as Marx. I never dared tell Getachew.
We discussed Lenin's book on Wednesday and had lunch
on the weekend at Harar Migib Bet. The following week, I left for
Harar to visit my mother, Tenfelesh Demissie, and my younger
sister Negede. I spent most of the summer in Dire Dawa with
Martha, Mahlet and other friends. Martha worked in Dire Dawa,
while I was going to school. She found Mahlet and me summer
jobs, where she was working. But we quit our jobs after a couple of
weeks just to stay home.

I came back from Harar at the end of August. I called Getachew

right away and we met at Harar Migib Bet. We had lunch and
stayed there all afternoon. I was excited to see him again. He had
become an inspiration to me and I had missed our theoretical
discussions. I'd lapsed into my former life in Dire Dawa and hadn't
read any of the books he had given me.
A few days later, I started my sophomore year. Azeb went
to Business College. Sara, Kidist and I joined the European
Languages Department, French as a major and English as a minor.
Mekdes went abroad. We learned that Tayetu Assefa had left the
country. Sadly, she was later on killed in a car accident in Germany,
It was rumored that her friend, Amleset Kibrom, had joined one of
the Eritrean Liberation Fronts.
Many students had written off my friends and me at the end
of the first semester of our first year. They were taken by surprise to
see us in January. They were sure June would be the last time we
would set foot on campus. We came back triumphantly in
September.
52 Tower in the sky

The past year was spent between the lounge, kissing pool
and occasionally movies. I had retired from parties after high
school, which was one less extracurricular activity. There were also
our study circle sessions. We never had lecture notes and the best
we could do was borrowing from others at the last minute.
It was a miracle that we survived for as long as we did.
Azeb, Kidist, Sara and Anene moved into a dorm in the
main building. Anene Abbas was a high school friend of Sara and
Azeb and had enrolled at the beginning of the semester. I got the
twenty-birr stipend but stayed in the donn, most of the time
sleeping with Anene and at times with Sara. The dorm gave us a
little bit of privacy with only the five of us, unlike the prefab dorm
where sixteen girls were cramped in one donn.
I saw Getachew a couple of days after I started class. We
met in front of the zoo, like we did many times, and took a long
promenade toward Menilik Hospital.
"I just wanted to tell you that you are going to continue
your studies with another person," he informed me.
"Why?" I was disappointed. I couldn't imagine myself
studying with another person. I had taken it to mean that the study
circle session was something between him and me. I had never
looked beyond that and didn't want to study with another person.
"We will continue our study...informally," he said, looking
me sideways.
I was relieved. I didn't care whether it was formal or
informal as long as we continued our sessions. He gave me a
description of this new person and advised me what to say when I
saw him.
It had never occurred to me that he would be a messenger of
the gods.
 Tower in the sky 53

I see my calling. It shines forth like the sun.

-Henrik Isben, Brand

A couple of days later, I met my new mentor at the bus station

beside the zoo. He was very quiet and serious. He gave me a
handout and instructed me to read it and come back for discussion
at the end of the week. By then I had soaked up the basics of
Historical and Dialectical Materialism and much more that
Getachew had drilled into me.
The new mentor gave me the surprise of my life when I saw
him toward the end of the week. He disclosed to me that I had
become a member of an underground organization called Abyot -
Revolution. I learned that I was on probation. He gave me a booklet
that contained the roles and responsibilities of a member. He
warned me not to say anything to anyone about my membership.
I was struck dumb. I shoved the booklet to the bottom of my
purse and whisked to campus, my heart thumping with excitement.
How can I keep such an enormous secret? I thought I would
explode if I didn't talk to someone. I resolved to confide in Azeb.
She divulged to me she'd been told the same thing when I
broke the news to her. We had a few times said to each other 'my
guy' said this and 'my guy' said that, referring to Getachew and his
counterpart in her study circle. We'd been good in terms of
discipline considering the circumstances. I had never said anything
to Sara and Kidist, and neither had they.

The veil was lifted, at last! I saw the gods with my naked eyes.
They finally revealed their secrets to me. I found out why I have
been studying Marxism-Leninism. Suddenly, the world looked
different. It seemed endowed with meaning. I saw the panorama of
my life shifting in front of me. I saw it veering t.oward what I came
to believe was my calling. I felt I was one of those chosen to partake
54 Tower in the sky

in what I envisaged was a magical world. I felt pride rising up in

me. I saw myself soaring into the sky like an eagle and landing on
the summit of Mount Everest.
I wanted to touch the sky.
But what does working underground mean? My imagination
ran wild. I knew what I had thus far been doing with Getachew was
a secret but I had never characterized it as underground. I
remembered the "It is a question of life and death" caution from
him. I felt a fleeting sense of fear sneak up on me. But I
immediately cast it out of my head. Rather, I wanted to plunge
myself into what seemed to me an enchanting and enchanted world.
For days, I could not for a second get the word underground out of
my head. I wondered if every student or lecturer crossing my path
worked in the underworld. I peered into their faces for cues that
betrayed a secret subterranean existence.
Now that I was a member of an underground organization, I
equated the organization with Getachew. They became one and the
same. A sudden burst of flame ignited in my chest for both. I felt
Getachew was the shining star who led me through the darkness
into the luminous road ahead of me. I had long stopped asking
myself why I was studying Marxism. I was enjoying what I
conceived was a fascinating way of looking at the world. Why
didn't Getachew himself tell me this exciting news? Why did he
have to do it through a messenger? Maybe that is how it is done. I
felt the window to Getachew's mysterious world was tossed open.
Now I know why he is so different and so enigmatic. I started
piecing things together and his strange behaviors suddenly became
intelligible.

The next day, I did something unbecoming of a person working

underground. I had recently learned that a certain law student was
 Tower in the sky 55

asking why 1 wouldn't wear a skirt. He kept saying I would have if I

had "the legs." I wanted to respond to this slap to my self-esteem
with action. I went home and came back the next day with my four-
year-old niece's brand-new Scottish skirt, which her father had
gotten her from England.
I came to the dorm, put on the shockingly short skirt and
scurried to the student lounge to make a daring spectacle. It was
after lunch and I knew the lounge would be packed. I walked in
deliberately slowly so that law student, and frankly everybody else,
saw me. I went to buy a drink first and joined my friends at their
table. I had made a statement and it was time to go to the donn and
change into something less revealing.
I turned back at the "love spot" and went to the Arts
Building instead. I went into the building, came back out, and
hastened toward the dorm. I whirled around when I felt someone
tapping on my shoulder. It was Getachew! I was shocked to see
him. I felt 1 had dishonored my underground title. I felt blood rush
to my cheeks. I burned with shame. He was wearing a black berretta
hat and white-rimmed reading glasses that made him look beyond
his years. I wondered why he wore those funny reading glasses and
that ugly hat that made him look old.
"Getachew, what brings you here?" I asked almost angered
by his unceremonious appearance on campus.
"I didn't get to see you on the weekend. I tried to call you
several times. I figured I might come and look for you," he said
with a shy smile.
"I am sorry. I wasn't home..."
"I saw you running down the stairs a few minutes ago. I
tried to grab you by the hand but you pulled back and kept
running," he said, laughing.
"Oh!" The weight of shame pressed on me even more.
56 Tower in the sky

"Can we go somewhere ...maybe find a classroom where we

can sit and talk?"
I noticed that he looked uneasy. I figured the hat and reading
glasses were camouflage. Tottering beside him, I wondered what he
thought of my skirt. He had never seen me dressed like that. Up to
that moment, I had managed to skillfully conceal my campus life
from him. 1 searched his face for a hint of disapprovaL There wasn't
any. If there was, I wasn't able to see it for he walked with his head
down as ifhe didn't want to be recognized by anyone. We climbed
up the stairs to the third-floor and went into an empty classroom.
We sat next to each other on the wooden armchairs in the first row.
Neither of us spoke. The silence was deafening. I didn't
know what to say. I kept pulling down on my skirt nervously. I
looked at him sideways to see ifhe had seen my bare thighs. He was
blankly gazing ahead of him. I saw beads of perspiration fanning on
his forehead.
"Hiwot..." he began abruptly in a cracked voice. "I meant to
tell you this for quite a while ... but....1just couldn't...couldn't pull
myself together... My nerves are a wreck."
I looked at him questioningly. Oh no! I was terrified of what
I was going to hear.
"I don't know how to put this. I am ... 1 am ... 1 am
desperately in love with you!" He spoke in English, his lips
quivering.
I was speechless. I almost fainted with trepidation when he
held my right hand. I felt his moist hand shaking. He wanted to
speak but his lips trembled. There was silence for a few minutes.
It felt like eternity.
"I wanted to tell you how much I loved you the day you
told me about those train stories ...that was before you left for
Harar," he said, wiping his forehead with his hand. He paused and
 Tower in the sky 57

then added, "I just couldn't. I was a complete wreck. I relaxed only
when you started telling me those funny stories. It has been ten
months since we've met. 1 vividly remember the day we met and
getting confused when 1 saw you coming toward me. I didn't expect
to meet someone like you."
"What do you mean?" The confusion written allover his
face the day I met him at Sidist Kilo came to mind.
"I mean you know...I didn't expect to meet someone like
you. 'Why are they sending me this one? What am I going to do
with her?' I said to myself when I saw you coming up to me. I still
remember your huge Afro and the yellow sweater you were
wearing. 1 kept saying, 'No, It can't be her.' You didn't look like
the kind of person I was expecting to meet. However, I must admit I
was mistaken. You cannot judge people by the way they dress or by
the way they do their hair. It did not take me long, though, to realize
what kind of girl you are. I had to go somewhere that day but after I
met you, I could not resist the temptation of staying. I actually fell
in love with you on the spot ...right when you extended your hand
smiling to shake mine. Remember? We went to the zoo for a drink.
I still have fresh memories of everything you told me that day."
"I know I said a lot of nonsense. I feel ashamed-"
"Why? What for?" he interrupted me. "I enjoyed every
minute of it. But most of all, I found your innocence disarming. I
was touched. You have matured in every sense of the word. I really
admire your discipline and commitment for what you are doing
even though you didn't understand much of what was going on.
That is really admirable. I meant to tell you a long time ago that I
loved you but I struggled with myself thinking it might conflict with
what we've been doing."
I indeed secretly loved and admired him but I didn't have
the courage to show it to him just yet. I respected him almost with
58 Tower in the sky

awe but his ready smile and easy demeanor assured me a sense of
ease. I often thought he lived in a world of his own, a world that
was enigmatic and impenetrable.
I was drawn to him, nonetheless.
He stimulated my brain and warmed my heart. I was
charmed by his gentle soul and timid nature. I marveled at his thirst
for theoretical clarity. He made a conscious effort to furnish my
mind with Marxism. I always looked forward to our discussions
even though he often assailed me with questions. Most importantly,
he did it all quietly and humbly. When I talked, he listened with
enthusiasm and rapt attention, which made me feel like I was on top
of the world. I'd loved reading novels but he had kindled a new
flame in me, a passion for theory. Without realizing it and without
even being told in so many words, I was tempered with discipline,
commitment and hard work.

I made my way back to the donn subdued. I was in an adventurous

mood when I had left. But I found it all too much to bear and confided
in Azeb when I saw her.
"My guy confessed to me that he loves me! I don't know what
to say, I am scared."
"I don't believe it! It is so nice," she said with excitement.
"But why are you scared?"
"I don't know. I didn't expect that from someone like him."
"Why not? What are you talking about? Isn't he human?"
"He is ... but I don't know ...he is so serious...oh...1 don't
know. I can't imagine going out with someone like him."
"You like him too, right?"
"Yeah, I do ... but ...1 don't know ...1 just didn't expect
anything like that from him."
 Tower in the sky 59

"Tell me what he actually said to you ...in a dialogue form,"

she coaxed me, laughing and placing her fingers on her lips, which
was a habit with her.
By "in a dialogue form," she meant what we did every night
in the donn. Azeb, Kidist, Sara and I sat on a bed every night in the
donn after returning from the kissing pool and repeated in turn the
conversations we have had with our dates.
"Maybe some other time. Right now, I am too overwhelmed.
He saw me in that skirt and I don't even know what he is going to
think of me."
She burst out laughing. "Was he in the lounge when you
came in?"
"No, I went to the Arts Building before changing. That was
where I ran into him. He said he had come to look for me ... today of
all days!"
"But why did you go to the Arts Building?"
"I don't know."
It might have been the next day or the day after, Sara, Kidist
and I were in the donn chatting. We had just come back from the
cafeteria after having supper and were waiting for Azeb to go to the
student lounge to mark our presence. Azeb poked her head through
the curtain that hung on the door and beckoned to me. I was sitting
on her bed, got up, and followed her to the hallway. She looked
pale. I wondered what could have happened.
"I heard people have been arrested," she said in a whisper.
"What? Who are they? I hope my guy is not one of them.
His name is Getachew Maru," I blurted out, forgetting that I was not
supposed to mention his name.
"He is. Mine is arrested too."
"How do you know my guy's name?"
"I heard Abebech mention his name."
60 Tower in the sky

"Abebech? How does she know? Are you sure he is one of

them?"
"I know for sure he is one of them because I heard her say,
'The Getachew Marus.' I can go and ask if you want."
While Azeb and I were talking, Abebech came out of her
donn and went to the toilet. She was our year-mate. When she came
out, Azeb dashed up to her donn. She may have been there two
minutes but it felt like ages.
"Yeah, he is the one," she confirmed to me when she came back.
"So he is arrested?" I literally felt my heart sinking. I
became frantic. Why is he arrested? What is going to happen to
him? Are they going to arrest us too?
I was startled by the tum of events. I thought it was like a
dream. It was as if an extra-terrestrial being had just landed into my
life, changed it forever within a few months, and disappeared,
suddenly with no announcement or warning. I wondered ifhe would
ever come out of prison alive. I wondered if my underground career
had ended even before it had begun. I wondered if the bearer of the
news of my Abyot membership, whose name I had never learned,
was arrested too.

Tension and restlessness were building up on campus since classes

started in September 1973, and right to the end of the semester. A
series of class boycotts, assemblies and meetings took place at the
Sidist Kilo, Amist Kilo and Arat Kilo campuses. Around the time
Getachew was arrested, an assembly was held at the Science
Faculty campus in Arat Kilo. Kidist and I did not go but Sara and
Azeb did. Many students were beaten up that day, but Sara and
Azeb escaped unscathed.
Class boycott reached its peak in November and December.
The university administration had had enough of our boycotts; in
December, they announced the cafeteria would be closed until we
 Tower in the sky 61

returned to class. The students' demands were the reinstitution of

the banned union and its organ (Struggle), academic freedom, the
release of political prisoners and larger issues such as "Land to the
tiller" and "Democratic rights for all." The day the cafeteria was
closed, the students decided to raise money for food allowance for
students from the provinces. Meles Tekle, one of the "vanguards of
the student movement," invited Azeb and me to participate in the
fundraising.
We were thrilled.
The two of us were standing on the opposite side of the
entrance of the Arts Building, holding out caps to solicit money
from evening class students around six o'clock, when the Fetno
Derash came out of nowhere. They hounded everyone out of the
area. They pushed Azeb and me into an empty classroom and seized
our caps and money. A soldier opened the door every now and then
and threw some more students inside. That was when it became
clear to me that we were indeed arrested.
A few minutes later, I peered through the window and saw
Hailu Mulatu, my year-mate and friend Selam's boyfriend, coming
toward the building. He took evening classes. He went past the
Fetno Derash, standing in the dark outside, holding their shields up.
I immediately pushed open the window rail and called him. I went
to the door and opened it to talk to him, unaware that two soldiers
were posted on the opposite side of the door. They ordered me to
close the door and stay inside.
Moments later, the door was flung open and Hailu asked me
what I was doing there. I told him I was arrested. He asked if there
were other girls with me. I gave him Azeb and Hirut's names. He
left and came back a few minutes later carrying a piece of paper in
his hand, which he gave to one of the soldiers standing at the door.
They let the three of us go. On our way to the dorm, we asked Hailu
62 Tower in the sky

how he managed to get us out. He said he knew the Lieutenant in

charge of the campus Police Station.
The campus has been turned into a ghost town with the
lights out. Hailu asked us if Selam was okay. We didn't know. We
didn't even know where Sara and Kidist were. He said goodbye at
the "love spot." He asked us to convey his greetings to his
girlfriend. We thanked him and rushed to the dorm.
We found them all safe and sound. We learned that Kidist
and Sara had been hiding in the washroom at the Arts Building.
"All that bravado was for this?" this lecturer mocked them when he
saw them sprinting toward the washrooms. Everybody in the dorm
laughed. The Fetno Derash later chased them out.
The following morning, we heard that the male students
arrested with us the previous night had been taken to a Police
Station. Just after lunch, Azeb and I were summoned to the campus
Police Station. They interrogated us individually about the
fundraising and our meal cards were confiscated.
It was no problem for us eating at the cafeteria without a
meal card for the rest of the weeks. I knew one of the servers and he
always gave us extra food whenever we had friends over. It
wouldn't have been a problem even if he wasn't there. We could
have shared with Sara, Kidist and Anene. It was fun for us to go to
the cafeteria. It opened at twelve o'clock for lunch and at six for
supper. If you were in line before noon or before six, you could
definitely get better sauce. However, a watery stew would greet you
if you came late. There would often be three pieces of meat floating
around. Students called it therefore - after the three dots in a
triangle symbol used for therefore in mathematics.
My friends and I always arrived late at the cafeteria. It was
tacky to stand in line when you were "jolly." We were rewarded
 Tower in the sky 63

with a watery sauce for coming late. We did not mind. What
mattered was that we kept our "jolly" pride.
There was usually a long break in the line up between the
last girl and a male student queuing up behind her. Servers, all male,
usually loaded a girl's tray and shoved a pathetically small portion
of food into the tray of a man trailing her. So a male student lined
up behind a woman usually left a wide gap between them, hoping
that she would recede from the server's mind by the time he got there.

It was the end of December. We had finished the semester and had
gone back home. Azeb called me at home and suggested we go to
Sidist Kilo campus and get our grades. We agreed to meet in front
of the Arts Building. I arrived there first and waited for Azeb a little
while and climbed the stairs up to the Faculty of Arts on the third-
floor.
I had not the slightest suspicion of what was in store for me
when the Faculty secretary gave me two envelopes. I opened up one
of them, which happened to contain my grades. I was curious about
the second one. I presumed it was some sort of congratulatory letter
for passing with distinction. Instead, it stated that I've been
suspended from school for one year!
I was stunned.
The allegation was that I was 'agitating' and 'intimidating'
students in the donn. I walked down the flight of stairs pensively
and went outside and stood near the entrance of the building. I saw
\
Mr. James Lee, Assistant Dean of the Faculty of Arts, striding
toward the building. The Englishman had taught me English 111 in
my first year. He came over when he saw me.
"Did you get your grades?" he asked, his face turning red as
a tomato.
"Yes, I did."
64 Tower in the sky

"Come to my office. We will talk about that nonsense."

I followed him.
"First, congratulations on a job well done," he said, sitting
on his chair. "I am so sorry you are suspended. I don't understand
what kind of nonsense that is. Don't worry. I am going to fight on
your behalf: I will take it to the Dean's office and, if that does not
work, I will take it to the Faculty Council. They can't do that."
I didn't know what to say. I simply said, "Thank you."
"You know what Hiwot? Even if you are suspended, you
will still be in third-year when you come back. I will see to it that
you don't lose a year." He promised.
While he was saying this, Monsieur Chaume, head of the
European Languages Department, came in. "They can't suspend my
best student! We have to do something about it," he shouted,
speaking English in a French accent.
Mr. Lee did not seem to like the Frenchman's presence. The
latter got the message and left asking me to come to his office when
I am done. I went to the French Department.. a few minutes later.
"You are the best student in my class. I was looking forward
to seeing you graduate with flying colors. They can't do that to you.
You are not going to lose a year. When you come back, you will be
in third-year. I will give you lessons and all the materials you need."
"I think I have lost the Mauger book. I will pay for it," I
said, remembering about the textbook I was supposed to return.
We were warned we were not going to get our grades unless
we returned the textbooks.
"I don't care about the book. You have your grades,
anyway."
Not all those promises allayed my anxiety, I was nervous
about how to break the news to my sister Almaz. I came out of the
 Tower in the sky 65

European Languages Department and went outside. I saw Azeb

coming. "Guess what! I am suspended for one year!"
"You've got to be kidding. What for?" she asked with
furrowed eyebrows.
"I guess because of the fundraising thing. But the letter says
for 'intimidation' and 'agitation.' I don't know what intimidation
and agitation they are talking about."
"Oh, my God! I must be suspended too. Etiye would kill me
for it," she cried, referring to her mother.
We ran up the stairs to the fourth-floor where the Faculty of
Business was located. The secretary gave her two envelopes. She
too was suspended for one year. We later found out that fifteen of
us (three girls and twelve boys) arrested the night of the fundraising
event were suspended, Meles Tekle among us.
I broke the bad news to my sister and my brother-in-law
over dinner that night. As I expected, my sister was upset about it.
She was upset even more because I had done well that semester.
The year ended with a suspension from school and a scary
dream. I had the dream a couple of days before we vacated our
dormitory, I had slept on the top bunk with Sara that night. "Oh my
God, I am glad it is only a dream." I breathed a sigh of relief when I
woke up, drenched in sweat. I didn't know what time it was. The
room was bright and the sun was at its peak and came through the
tiny window that had no curtain. I sat up in the bed gasping for air
and shaking. I heard voices in the hallway. It was Kidist, Azeb and
Sara.
"You are alive! We thought you were dead. We tried to
wake you up. We tried everything hut nothing worked. What
happened?" Sara asked, putting her hands on the bed.
"What time is it?" I asked, trying to breath.
66 Tower in the sky

"It is past noon. Get up, take a shower and let's go have
lunch," Azeb insisted.
"I had this horrifying dream. 1 am glad it is just a dream.
Every time I tried to wake up, I just couldn't. It felt like I had
dreamt all night and all morning."
"It must have been a nightmare," Sara said, laughing.
"What did you dream about, anyway?" Kidist asked me.
"I saw this white thing that looked like an inflated balloon. It
came into each person's house through the door and came out of the
window or vice versa. People tried to pop it with sticks but it kept
flying in the sky. Then Janhoy came out and addressed a multitude
of people. 'A terrible thing is happening to our country. We need to
pray. We need to pray,' he implored them. They knelt on the ground
and prayed with the Emperor. He ordered soldiers to shoot at the
balloon. They shot toward the sky non-stop but none of the bullets
hit it. It actually went further up in the sky. Finally, when they
managed to hit it ...it popped and fourteen crescent-shaped stars
spread across the sky. Everybody was scared and knelt down
saying, 'Egzio!' They prayed and prayed."
"Wow! What a long dream? It is spooky too. It must have
some kind of meaning," Sara said.
"I don't know. I am glad it is just a dream. It was so scary."
We met Yordanos, Sara's cousin, at the cafeteria and told
her my dream. She said she would have her mother interpret it for
her when she goes home in the evening. Yordanos' mother said that
something terrible was going to happen in the country that would
spread throughout the fourteen provinces.
We couldn't figure out what possibly could happen to the
country that would spread throughout the fourteen provinces.
 Tower in the sky 67

It is possible to predict the time and progress ofrevolution.

It is governed by its own more or less mysterious laws.
-Vladimir Ilyich Lenin

Had I known the whirling wheels of history were about to shake up

the rhythm of our leisurely existence, January 1974 wouldn't have
felt like the longest month of my life. Alas, those January days
dragged by painfully slow.
Azeb and I were not even allowed on campus since we
didn't have ID. We met Kidist and Sara off campus. It was painful
not to be able to go to school. We didn't know what to do with
ourselves. It was then that the suspension had sunk into our head.
We had no choice but to look for ajob. We didn't even know where
to go. We went to the Central Personnel Agency (CPA) in Arat Kilo
once and found the lineup dreadfully long. We turned back vowing
never to return. Finally, I got a tutoring job through my brother-in-
law, teaching Amharic to a British woman.
February 18 started as a day like any other when I left home
in the morning to meet Azeb in Piassa - Piazza. We had planned to
go to Reis Engineering to apply for a job. I was standing in front of
Mona Lisa Bar in Abware, a few steps from home, wondering
where all the taxis had gone until a passerby told me that I was
wasting my time waiting. He informed me the taxi drivers had gone
on strike.
They went on strike protesting high gas prices precipitated
by the Organization of Petroleum Exporting Countries (OPEC) oil
embargo. The price of oil had skyrocketed overnight because of
American and other Western countries' support to Israel during the
war with Egypt and Syria at the end of 1973.
Later that day, I learned teachers had joined the taxi drivers
protesting the new education refonn bill, which they believed would
have scaled back the strides the country had made in education.
68 Tower in the sky

It wouldn't have been complete without the participation of

students. They were out in the streets to give the protest a political
color. The day after the strikes by taxi drivers and teachers, people
spontaneously poured out into the streets. We didn't realize that it
was the revolution that was igniting. We didn't see it coming. It
caught us all by surprise, including those who diligently worked
underground to ignite one in their own time.
The cabinet of Prime Minister Tsehafi Tizaz (Minister of
pen) Aklilu Habtewold (educated in Alexandria and France)
resigned and was replaced by that of Lij (title given to men of royal
blood) Endalkachew Mekonen. Endalkachew was an Oxford-
educated member of the aristocracy. He was the son of Ras
Bitwoded (meaning military officer of the highest rank) Mekonen
Endalkachew, the first Imperial Prime Minister in the country.
Pressured, Endalkachew promised reform and pleaded for time.
Demonstrations and strikes paralyzed the country at the end
of the month. Factory workers, civil servants, small businessmen,
and lower and middle-rung officers of the armed forces, some of
whom had already mutinied in January, jumped on the bandwagon
demanding better wages and living conditions. Demonstrations and
strikes reached their peak in March. Workers, deacons, nurses,
students, teachers and women came out with demands. Women
demanded "equal pay for equal work."
The university campus seethed with turmoil, Once again the
students' demands included the reinstitution of the union and its
organ and the release of political prisoners (such as Getachew and
others), as well as the unconditional return of the fifteen students
suspended in December of the previous year--meaning us. A leaflet
was distributed on campus calling on students to rally behind the
suspended 'militants,' such as Meles Tekle, Azeb Girma and me.
Azeb and I were not too pleased with such publicity. But I found
 Tower in the sky 69

myself once again on campus shouting slogans and raising my

hands in the air.
The han on the union and its organ was lifted on 21 March.
We, the fifteen students, were allowed back without any conditions.
The university campus had never been so animated. There was a
sense of triumph and jubilation in the air. Preparations were started
for the election of USUAA congress and officials. Newspaper and
magazine clippings were pasted everywhere. Electrifying and bold
campaign speeches were delivered by candidates in English, the
officiallanguage of USUAA. Some of the speakers dazzled us with
their eloquence, others held us in thrall with their oratory, and still
others struck us dumb with their good looks and command of the
English language. My friends and I whisked from one campaign
speech to the other, feverishly applauding every speaker. I had
always dreamt of participating in demonstrations and class boycotts
at the university, but never had I imagined I would witness anything
like these campaign speeches.
My entire being quivered with excitement.
Meles Tekle, who was on campus for eight years and may
have been set to go for another eight or so, asked Azeb and me to
help out counting ballots at the Ras Mekonen Hall. We felt it was
the ultimate honor.
The day USUAA was inaugurated at the Christmas Hall
(adjoining the Sidist Kilo campus cafeteria), Eshetu Chole, a former
student activist and university lecturer with a PhD in economics,
and Ginnachew Lemma, a law student and former president of
USUAA, left us spellbound with their intoxicating speeches. But it
was Eshetu Chole who captured our imagination. We roared in total
rapture when he revealed to us that all we needed to do was three
things: "Organize! Organize! Organize!"
It was a delirious moment.
70 Tower in the sky

Impassioned debates raged on campus over whether or not

to withdraw. Most students favored withdrawal but, at a rally at
Arat Kilo campus, Meles Tekle pleaded with us to remain on
campus. We would have no power once we were scattered, he
warned, and that tipped the scale in favor of staying. Withdrawal
was deemed the most potent weapon for pressuring the university
administration and the government, and those who pushed for
withdrawal held their ground. The debate went on for days.
OUf friend Ephrem Kebede was one of those students who
ardently supported withdrawal. Kidist, Sara, Azeb and I were on our
way to the donn one day when we saw him scurrying, a piece of
paper on hand.
"Hey Ephrem, where are you going?" we called out.
"I'm going to the registrar office to submit my withdrawal
form," he shouted.
"What are you talking about? We haven't yet reached a
decision. " We burst out laughing.
"I don't care! I am going to withdraw, anyway," he cried.
He went ahead and withdrew but stayed on campus.
Such was the vigor with which withdrawal was held.
We held a one-day sit-down hunger strike in front of the
Arts Building, hollering slogans and demanding the resignation of a
myriad of ministers, including the new Prime Minister. We gave
that day's breakfast and lunch to the famine-stricken, squatting near
Alert Hospital. They had come from afar in search of food.
Sara, Kidist, Azeb, Anene, and I volunteered, along with
other students, to distribute the food to the hungry. When we came
back, we found the campus almost deserted. Most of the students
had gone home after a grueling day in the sun. Kidist and Sara went
home too. Azeb, Anene, Meles, the recently elected president of
USUAA, Getachew Begashaw, and I went to an eatery close to the
 Tower in the sky 71

university and talked about the events of the day. Azeb, Anene and I
spent the night at the dorm.
The strikes and protest rallies persisted through April.
Muslims held the biggest demonstration on the zo", demanding
equality of religions. A great number of Christians came out in
solidarity. Azeb and I were astonished at the number of housewives
who came to the rally that day. Housewives went to church, the
market, funerals, and mehaber (self-help association). The
revolution threw them out in the streets babies strapped to their
backs, shouting slogans, raising their anns in the air, waving flags
or umbrellas and ululating.
Something new was happening.
Placards fluttered high up in the sky bearing slogans such as:
"Land to the tiller," "Democratic rights now," "Education for all,"
"Peoples' Government," "Equality of religions," "Lower food
prices," "Down with feudalism" and "Down with imperialism."
I chanted slogans with others until my lungs burst like
balloons, demanding the resignation of a countless number of
ministers most of whose sins I didn't know. "Resign!" was perhaps
the most shouted slogan at the time.
Every day, teachers, workers, civil servants and students
thrust themselves into the streets and burst into spontaneous
demonstrations. I quit my tutoring job. Taking to the streets became
a full-time occupation.
Onward we marched fervently shouting slogans and
condemning our enemies with one voice. We demanded change and
a better future with the same zeal and determination. The
camaraderie and sense of solidarity among demonstrators was
unsurpassed. Our communion with one another brought out the best
in us all.
We felt suspended in time and space.
72 Tower in the sky

The phrase 'peoples' power' was abstract to me until I

witnessed real people rising up collectively. They had neither
weapons nor ideology, neither party nor leader, they were,
nonetheless, a formidable force. I came to realize that their power
and fearlessness was a product of their unity. It was that unity that
shook the very foundation of the age-old system. What was believed
to be an Addis Ababa phenomenon swept like a tsunami through
other major cities and towns in the fourteen provinces, submerging
the country in turmoil.
My friends and I recollected my dream. I felt I had seen it all
about two months ago. I told people around me about it. They were
all amazed.
I felt proud.
The Emperor appeared on TV pleading for calm and making
promises and concessions, but no tangible changes or swift action.
His pleas fell on deaf ears. The high tide of the revolution had
stripped him of his godlike aura. Nothing could abate the tempest.
Nothing could appease the people.
It was obvious that the monarchy was on its death-bed,
fighting for its last breath. The system couldn't cater to the needs of
the modem social forces and of the radical elements by fulfilling
their revolutionary demands. Even though the Emperor was widely
recognized a pioneer, in modernizing the country, he was no longer
able to keep up with the changing social and political environment
and effect any meaningful change. His government was in disarray
and its inability to control the situation undermined its legitimacy.
The famine in Wollo and Tigray had made people question its moral
fiber.
Change was needed. Change was in the air. Change was
inevitable.
 Tower in the sky 73

Like any upheaval, the revolution had moments of tragedy.

Some people died and many more were injured during the violent
suppression of demonstrations by government forces. Hundreds
were put behind bars. In the process, hooligans destroyed and looted
private property.
There was no lack of moments of comedy either. After a
massive demonstration was over in Dire Dawa Lefe, a street woman
a little weak in the head, trudged down a deserted street under the
scorching sun holding a piece of blank cardboard and shouting
"Resign! Resign! Resign!" at the top of her voice.
"Who should resign, Lefe?" a bemused passerby asked.
"All of them! UlJ1 OJCfi. UlJ1 ,e.p&,,,A!"

The revolution swept everyone off their feet. Normal life was in a
limbo, its rhythm shaken to its core. Euphoria and exuberance
became the norm. Spirited debates exploded about the course of the
revolution in newspapers, cafes, work places and school
compounds. Everybody wanted to throw in their two cents worth.
For a brief period of time, we enjoyed a taste of freedom of the
press never before seen in the history of the country. Leaflets were
everywhere. It seemed like they were coming down like rain from
the sky and sprouting from the earth like mushrooms. New words
such as Abyot - revolution - were coined. Parents named their
newborns Abyot. Students from abroad rushed back to the
motherland to partake in this historic and momentous event.
All of a sudden, we found ourselves in a new and
unexpected situation. Awe and reverence for the crown gave way to
a sense of defiance and liberation. The future looked bright The
rainbow was cast on Ethiopian skies.
There was hope.
74 Tower in the sky

Every revolution was first a thought in one man's mind.

-Ralph Waldo Emerson

The boundless hope that poured out of our hearts into the streets in
those revolutionary days had its roots in the sixties. The decade in
Ethiopia, as in many countries in the world, was a threshold to
change. It had ushered a new kind of people with new ideas, hopes
and aspirations for themselves and for their country. It was the
coming of these new people with new ideas that had sparked the
revolution.
In the sixties, as Ethiopia was embarking on the road to
modernization, a new class of people, a working class, was
emerging, heralding the development of a new system, capitalism.
Manufacturing and other industries expanded, leading the way to
capitalist development and the growth of the work force. As
Getachew had taught me, the pace of growth of the industrial sector
was too slow to guarantee a developed capitalist system and
accommodate the ever-increasing number of the unemployed.
The local capitalist, whom Getachew told me was known as
the comprador bourgeoisie - in communist parlance - was
dependent on foreign capital for his own growth. The expansion of
industries and the growth of the working class were inhibited as a
result. The first workers' union, the Franco-Ethiopian Railway
Company Workers' Association, was founded in 1947. Unionization
had heightened since then, and the late sixties and early seventies
brought in labor unions and strikes to an unprecedented degree as
workers hoped and fought for better wages and living conditions.
In rural areas, commercial fanning, though on a small scale,
caused rising expectations, while creating discontent among many
peasants rendered landless or unemployed by the process. It also led
to the increased export of certain items to fulfill the ever-growing
demands of foreign exchange for the government.
 Tower in the sky 75

Young modem or commercial farmers, with loans and

incentives from the government, were new phenomena in the
country in the mid and late sixties and early seventies. The
formation of large agricultural projects such as Chilalo Agricultural
Development Unit (CADU) and Wolayita Agricultural Development
Unit (WADD) and the Upper, Middle and Lower Awash basin
projects opened the door for the transformation of traditional
peasant agriculture into large-scale commercialized fanning.
Fanners, to me, were the illiterate in the countryside, with
rough hands and wide Bermuda shorts that looked like skirts. The
new fanners were educated, drove expensive cars, wore jeans,
danced at discotheques, and spoke fluent English or French.
Commercial farming promised growth, modernity and a new
life in rural areas.
The middle-class was meanwhile developing its own idea of
a new and modem Ethiopia with rising expectations and aspirations.
It was educated and employed by the government and the private
sector. It saw itself as modem, at odds with the aristocracy, which it
deemed archaic and a roadblock to the modernization of the country
and to its own growth and advancement. It was young, feeble, and
very small in number (not even one percent of the population), but it
was growing slowly and surely, with a relatively strong purchasing
power compared with the majority, whose life was plagued by
poverty and illiteracy.
This modem class adopted a distinctively Western life style
and values. They were keen on material possession, purchased new
cars and appliances and built exquisite villas with chimneys sticking
out into the sky. Trimmed gardens dolled up the paved, brick-
walled, fenced-in and guarded yards of their villas.
The middle-class clearly distinguished themselves from the
rest of the population, most of whom lived in shabby cluster or mud
76 Tower in the sky

houses. They changed, within their own circle, traditional

interpersonal relationships, brought women to the public sphere and
reinterpreted fatalistic elements in the culture, introducing the idea
that one can change one's circumstances through one's own effort,
secular education being the main avenue to social mobility. They
were a consumer class with taste for all things Western. Piassa was
the miniature world that symbolized the new Ethiopia that they had
envisioned. There was no other place in Addis Ababa that so
captivated their imagination.

I had seen Addis rapidly change since I first set foot in it as an

eleven-year old girL I came to Addis for the first time right after I
wrote my grade six Ministry - national examination. I still have
memories of the huge advertising signs - Shell, Mobil, Agip and
Cerelac - reeling in front of my eyes when the train accelerated
toward the city. I stared at them in awe.
They surely gave Addis a modem feel.
I remember going to Piassa every Saturday afternoon with
my cousin Elsa, who is my age, when I came in the summer from
Harar, I stared at the exquisitely dressed young married couples
leisurely strolling and enjoying the pleasant late afternoon weather.
Besides ordering clothes from Sears catalogues, they swarmed
stores owned by Greek, Armenian and Italian expatriates such as
Ariston, Hennes, La Bergerie, Moda Nova, Allonesta, Maria
Koshasha, Bartolotta, Sasso, Dannar and by nationals such as
Mecheresha Fashion. These chic stores flaunted Greek, French and
Italian fashionable clothes, fragrances and shoes.
The modem couples bought Scandinavian furniture from
Mosvold and had it delivered right to their doors in a matter of days.
I remember being impressed, since I never saw anything delivered
to anybody's house in Harar,
 Tower in the sky 77

They purchased dazzling Italian white and opaque red,

green and purple crystal glassware from Navis. They bought
crayons, spelling worksheets, children's books, flowered notepads
and fancy exercise books from the Artistic Printing Press. As a little
girl, I bought my exercise books in Harar from Aberash medeber -
kiosk - and there was nothing fancy about them. Their covers had
the pictures of the Emperor, the Empress and their sons. The
shoppers at Artistic sent their children to private, prestigious
schools like Sandford (English School), Nazaret, St. Joseph, and
Lycee Gebre Mariam with fancy exercise books, and their little ones
with crayons to kindergartens such as Jack and Jill, La Fontaine and
Peter Pan.
The men developed a taste for new sports. Saturday
morning, they played tennis at Juventus Club showing off expensive
sportswear, while their wives were talking about the latest coffee
grinder and Dr. Spack at Ghion or Hilton Hotel, watching their
children swim. After lunch, Russian women gave piano lessons to
the children, when their wives shopped at Chico and got their hair
done at Francesca's before heading over to Piassa. Some bowled the
night away at R.E.C.E or dined with their wives or friends at
Castelli, Sangham, Omar Khayyam, Lombardi a, and Buffet de la
Gare.
They drove their families to Sebata, Gefersa, Koka or
Debre Zeit Sunday afternoon and went on vacation to Sodere or
Langano. They flashed polished Mercedes Benz, Alfa Romeo,
BMW, Citroen, Peugeot, Renault, Opel, Taunus, and Volkswagen.
As a young girl, I looked with utter wonderment when they got out
of their cars and inserted coins into parking meters.
The parking meters added a tinge of modernity to the
drama unfolding in Piassa.
78 Tower in the sky

Piassa was also home to the new modem youth that were as
much consumers as the finely dressed men and womena They
shopped at Petit Paris or La Bergerie. Petit Paris was their Mecca as
Mode Nova was to the modem couples. Piassa was the promenade
where these elegant and stylish youngsters picked up their future
dates and made fashion statements. They indulged in hamburgers,
club sandwiches, baklava, banana shakes, ice-cream, pizza, and the
uniquely Ethiopian macchiato at cafes, creameries, tearooms, pastry
shops, delis, and pizzerias,
There was an art exhibition at the Belvedere Art Gallery in
Piassa featuring the works of distinguished artists such as Afework
Tekle and Zerihun Yetmgeta. Modern couples and singles streamed
into the gallery to witness celebrated works of art and even buy
some. Among the pieces hanging on the wall was Zerihun
Yetmgeta's "After Six" that made female viewers look away in
embarras sment It depicted a group of women, squatting in the
a

woods, their dresses hitched up to their knees, cleansing themselves.

My friend Mahlet and I watched the reaction of every woman with
amusement. We were standing at the door handing out exhibition
brochures I had never been to an art gallery and I felt so modern,
a

Piassa promised a new life. Piassa promised modernity and

affluence. Piassa gave hope to its pilgrims.
But Piassa was an oasis in the middle of poverty, You
would be amazed to know what it unabashedly hid in its bosom:
Serategna Sefer. Serategna Sefer was home to hundreds of sex
I

workers. It was the hotbed of sexually transmitted diseases. Squalor,

disease, utter poverty, dense population, illiteracy, and sexual
wantonness characterized the ill-famed neighborhood,
I thought Serategna Sefer was a scandal to Piassa that
glittered with gold, silver and fashionable Seiko and Roamer
watches.
 Tower in the sky 79

The mid-sixties and early seventies were boisterous years.

Discotheque, Cottage, Saturday Night Fever, Stereo Club, The
Cave, Osibisa, Sheba, Venus Cub and Hotel d'Afrique were
jammed with youngsters, who frenziedly shook their booties to the
tunes of The Beatles, Rolling Stones, Tom Jones, Temptations,
James Brown, Tyrone Davis, Elvis Presley, Beach Boys and The
Archies.
My friends and I threw parties in Harar and called ourselves
Evergreen Friends. Our parties began and ended with Cliff
Richard's Evergreen tree.
The joint concert of the various bands in Addis was a
novelty in those days. My aunt took me to the then new Mazegaja
Bet - City Hall - for the New Year's Eve concert when I came to
Addis for the first time. Since then, it became a tradition for my
sister, my brother-in-law and my aunt to go to the evening concert
every year, and for my cousin Elsa and me to go on New Year's Day.
The screens of the Ambassador, Haile Selassie I Theatre
and Cinema Empire in Addis Ababa, and Haji Ahmed Bomba
Cinema Bet in Harar, enchanted us with the faces of Paul Newman,
Clark Gable, Sidney Poitier, Tony Curtis, Doris Day, Elizabeth
Taylor, Greta Garbo, Lana Turner and Marilyn Monroe.
My friend Yodit and I collected bubble gum cards of our
favorite actors and actresses. I bought bubble gum after bubble gum
to find the Roger Moore and Michael Landon cards.
I never had enough.
In Addis, after a movie, fashionably attired youngsters
jammed Post and Meskel Rendezvous, where they exchanged
pleasantries, winks and phone numbers.
Shashi Kapoor, Nargis Dutt, Raj Kapoor and others made
us weep and laugh with Indian movies such as Mother India, Waqt,
Sangham and Duniya. We didn't always understand the words, as
80 Tower in the sky

some of the films didn't have sub-titles. But we understood them

enough to laugh and weep. My friends and I went to Haji Bomba
Cinema Bet with handkerchiefs whenever an Indian movie was on.
We knew we were going to cry for the young newlywed girl
inevitably abused by her old and stern mother-in-law.
I remember going to the Drive-in-Theatre in Addis on New
Year's Eve with my sister and my brother-in-law, who were then
young newlyweds, to see The Yellow Rolls Royce. I was only twelve
but I recall gaping when my sister got out of the car and brought in
a speaker from the dual speaker pole.
I was bewitched.
In Harar, my friends Martha, Yodit, Saba, and I made egg
sandwiches and buna be wotet - caffe latte - every Saturday
morning, spreading a blanket in the garden beside Saba's house to
"study." We sat so close to the street that we got easily distracted.
Saba's mother spied on us from a distance. She was never able to
figure out how we could study sitting so close to a main street.
Street kids roamed the town carrying a reclame with the
weekend's movie. We always asked with excitement, "What is on
this afternoon?" when they passed by Saba's house. They shouted,
"Elzabet Teller!" or "Rock Hudson!" or "Shashkapoor!" There was
no need to find out the title of the movie. The names of the actors
and actresses were enough to make us jump to our feet. We gulped
down our sandwiches and caffe lattes, gathered our things, changed
our clothes and off we went to Haji Bomba movie theatre in Feres
Megala.
TV was a novelty, then, and we were glued to the screen
watching The Fugitive, Perry Mason, Bonanza, and Mission
Impossible. There was no TV in Harar, and I only got the chance to
see all those series in Addis in the summer. I was almost in tears the
day I had to return to Harar at the end of one summer. The last
 Tower in the sky 81

episode of the Fugitive was showing. I was so curious, my cousin

Elsa had to write me the ending.
Listeners' Choice program was new on the radio and we
went wild listening to Etta James, Bettye Swann, Roy C, Bobby
Bland, Dean Martin, Frank Sinatra, Aretha Franklin, The Supremes,
Jim Reeves, Otis Redding, Wilson Pickett, Clarence Carter, Albano
Carrisi and Gigliola Cinquetti. Indian radio listeners' choice
program also brought us Mohammed Rafi, Lata Mangeshkar and
Asha Bhosle. My friends and I memorized the lyrics just as we did
the English ones, even if we didn't understand them.
We also had our own "soul music," with Ethiopian singers
such as Tilahun Gessesse, Mohamed Ahmed, Buzunesh Bekele, and
Alemayehu Eshete. Unlike Western singers, for whom love was the
major theme of their songs, our singers pointed to the crisis of moral
values, the loss of culture and tradition and the intrusion into our
society of materialism, greed and decadent values. Singers were
believed to be the forerunners of the revolution.
Writers had their fair share of contribution in prodding
peoples' consciences and sensitizing them to social ills as well. Abe
Gubegna's Aleweledem, burnt by the government and precipitating
the long time detention of the author in Mocha, in the province of
Ilubabor, was an instance. Whilst in exile there, he is said to have
written a book, 'Mocha al1ehu,' a pun with an apparent meaning of
'I am in Mocha,' but pronounced as 'mochallehu,' conveying the
hidden meaning: 'I am dead,' describing his existence in limbo.
Bealu Girma's Yehilina Dewel and Hadis Alemayehu's
Wonjelegnaw Dagna are other examples of the upsurge not only of
the literature of the time, but/ also of moral and social criticism.
Hadis Alemayehu's, Fiker Eske Mekabir - Love unto grave - was
another example. It exposed the exploitation, oppression and
82 Tower in the sky

backwardness of the feudal system. In a poignant poem, it subtly

provoked peoples' sense of indignation.
It was fashionable to go abroad at the time. But those who
made it to the airport were mainly SOIlS and daughters of the rich.
Their parents paid an astounding amount of money to American and
European universities and Swiss finishing schools to give their
children the best possible education.
Youngsters awaited anxiously the arrival of their 1-20 forms
to go to the favored destination - America. They threw farewell
parties when their F-l Visas arrived. TIley sent back pictures from
the dreamland leaning on opulent cars, while wearing winter
jackets, scarves, mitts, and winter hats. They looked to us like they
had just stepped out of a movie screen or a Vogue or Marie Claire
fashion magazine.

When Piassa teemed with modern couples and the sons and
daughters of the rich boarded planes, the university (a kilometer
away from Piassa) was like a cauldron simmering with student
unrest. The University College of Addis Ababa, nucleus of what
later became Haile Selassie I University, was founded in 1950, and
since the early 1960s, the students had been challenging the regime.
Their demands initially revolved mainly around their own
immediate needs, such as better cafeteria food or the safeguarding
of academic freedoms.
It was the December 1960 coup d'etat led by Genname
Neway, a former university student with a Socialist orientation and
a Masters degree from Columbia University, and his older brother,
Brigadier-General Mengistu Neway, commander of the Imperial
Bodyguard, that changed the way the monarchy was perceived.
Students came out in support of the coup, seeing it as the
beginning of a "new era" in the history of the country. The coup
 Tower in the sky 83

showed them that change was indeed possible, that kings did not
rule by divine mandate. Their demands shifted from their immediate
needs to larger social, economic and political issues. Even then,
their demands were more reformist than anything else. They still
saw the Emperor as a father figure, on the road to modernizing the
country.
However, the formation of the Eritrean Liberation Front in
1961, the Russian, Chinese, Cuban, and Vietnamese revolutions,
decolonization in Africa, the struggle against apartheid in South
Africa and the Civil Rights Movement in the United States, left
indelible marks on the imagination of the students, encouraging
them to challenge the regime. Students from other African countries
studying at the university through a scholarship program,
established by Emperor Haile Selassie, also contributed to the
heightening of the social and political awareness of the university
students.
The Ethiopian Students Union in North America (ESUNA)
and Ethiopian Students Union in Europe (E8UE) played a
significant role in raising the social and political awareness of
university students and the development of the student movement at
home. They published pamphlets such as Challenge, Combat,
Tenesh Ethiopiawit, Tiglachin, Yetigil Senselet and Tatek, which
were smuggled into the country. These pamphlets were hand
copied, distributed and widely read by students and teachers.
Marxist-Leninist thought was seeping into these publications
and a clandestine group, named Crocodile Society, was formed in
the early sixties. The Crocs, as its members were called, studied
Marxism-Leninism and helped its spread among university students.
As their social and political awareness heightened, the
students became incensed by the inequality, injustice and political
repression they saw around them and rebelled against the regime.
84 Tower in the sky

They were particularly appalled by the living conditions of the

peasants, who were robbed of their lands and produce by a land
tenure system that privileged the royal family, aristocracy, nobility
and the clergy. They spoke out against the suppression of political
freedom demanding freedom of speech, the press and of assembly.
They began to see themselves as children of the people and
champions for their causes.
The mid-sixties were a defining moment in the history of the
student movement when a new kind of student burst on the scene,
reshaping the political landscape on campus, Marxism-Leninism as
the guiding ideology. Karl Marx, Friedrich Engles, Vladimir Ilyich
Lenin, and Frantz Fanon were widely read. The movement
decidedly took on an anti-feudal and anti-imperialist posture. In
February 1965, the students demonstrated in front of the parliament,
where a bill to regulate tenancy was being debated. They fluttered
placards reading "Land to the tiller," thus setting the year as a
watershed in the history of the student movement. It was the first
time that the students had come out with such a radical slogan.
The students also looked beyond their country and espoused
anti-apartheid, anti-Zionist and anti-Vietnam war stances and
supported the Civil Rights Movement in the United States and
Socialist and National Liberation Movements in Africa and Latin
America.
The late sixties saw enhanced radicalism and militancy as
this new breed of students took center stage. They demanded no less
than radical change. They saw the problems and solutions of the
country through a Marxist lens. The new ideology was credited as
being panacea to all social, economic and political ills. It promised
to bring heaven down to earth and the students, seduced by its
utopian vision, yearned to transplant it in their country.
And so the idea of igniting a revolution was born.
 Tower in the sky 85

In January 1967, USUAA (the University Students' Union of

Addis Ababa) was set up a month after its organ, Struggle, was
published. The students had achieved many victories but had
difficulty uniting the student body under one union, since it would
have to include all the di ffcrent colleges in Addis Ababa. The
students defended and shielded l rSl 1AA like a mother protecting her
child.
It became the reason lor their being.
Students were boiling with hatred for the West, too, and
anything Western aroused their indignation. When some of the
female university students staged a fashion show at the Sidist Kilo
campus in March 1968, students threw eggs and tomatoes at the
invited guests and disrupted the show. Police shot tear gas and
many were arrested, leading to the closure of the university and the
banning of the students' union and its organ.
The students saw the fashion show as a shameless
subscription to Western cultural imperialism and the girls as a
dumping ground for bourgeois luxury that benefited imperialists.
Besides, fashion was seen as a way of distracting women from the
problems of the country, just as religion was regarded as the
'opium' that blinded students from the harsh realities of life. That
was why my year-mate, Alemzewd Araya, was harassed for her
Pentecostal beliefs after the Revos returned to campus. Pentecostals
were then an endangered species in a place where Marxism was the
de-facto religion.
For many years, tIle cycle was repeated: university students
boycotted classes, came out into the streets and distributed
underground pamphlets. In the process, they faced many
confrontations with the government. The university administration
would ban USUAA and its organ in retaliation, only to reinstate it
when students again boycotted classes or poured out into the streets.
86 Tower in the sky

Eventually, it dawned upon USUAA radicals that the

movement should go beyond throwing stones and reciting poetry.
The drill was that they recited poems, debated in debating clubs,
boycotted classes, took to the streets, chanted slogans, held up
placards and pelted stones on buildings and at soldiers. Truckloads
of them would be taken to Sendafa, a small town outlying Addis
Ababa, and those who remained boycotted classes calling for the
release of the detained. The vicious circle that defined the
movement became a dead-end.
The idea that the student movement was the 'vanguard' of
the revolution had been churning around in their heads for a while.
But as Marxism-Leninism illumined the trajectory of the struggle,
the students realized that only a Marxist-Leninist party could
safeguard the interests of the workers and peasants.
A group of students, with the prominent student activist
Berhanemeskel Redda, hijacked an airplane in August 1969 to be
mid-wife to the birth of this Marxist-Leninist party. They became
known as the AIg~ria Group because they chose Algeria as their
temporary home after they forced an Ethiopian airline to land in the
Sudan. Ethiopian students within the country and abroad hailed the
hijacking as a courageous revolutionary act.
Another group of students attempted another hijacking in
December 1972; that ended with the tragic mid-air death of six
students, one of whom was the intrepid student activist Waleligne
Mekonen, who was working at the time. A female student survived,
wounded. Another female student, Marta Mebratu, was killed.
December 28, 1969 was another turning point for the
students. Tilahun Gizaw, a celebrated student activist and the
incumbent president of USUAA, was shot and killed one night near
Sidist Kilo campus, while walking with his girlfriend and his
brother. This unleashed a huge uproar of anger among university
 Tower in the sky 87

students, teachers, intellectuals, high school and even elementary

school students throughout the country.
Thousands of university and high school students and
teachers assembled in the university campus the next day. They
carried Tilahun's coffm (which they took from the hospital) and
chanted slogans. Soldiers came into the campus and fired at them as
a scuffle ensued to gain possession of the coffin. Hundreds were
arrested and tortured and some were killed.
In response, even more high school and elementary students
and teachers burst into the streets of cities and towns across the
country in violent protest. Thousands more were arrested. Ethiopian
students studying abroad protested in front of the Ethiopian
embassies across Europe and North America, condemning the
brutality of the government. Nothing could abate the rage kindled
on December 28, 1969. Tilahun Gizaw's murder radicalized
thousands of students and intellectuals across the country overnight,
making it another turning point in the radicalization of the students.
As Gabriel Tafesse, a former university student activist,
imparted to me, "It was customary for USUAA congress candidates
to raise political issues such as land to the tiller. Tilahun spoke
about the national question that touched upon the sensitive question
of the right of nations to self-determination and up to secession. I
think that got the security nervous. Up to that time, the Haile
Selassie regime had been tolerant. The killings on campus sent a
shockwave through the student body. The very idea that the
government kills was a shocking revelation to us. The killing of
Tilahun became a turning point."
The Eritrean question was on the hot burner at the time and
the government was certainly nervous about these claims.
88 Tower in the sky

Despite all of that, the students were for the most part alienated
from the general population, as their struggle was generally limited
to the university campus. The abstract and elitist language they used
couldn't penetrate the hearts and minds of the people.
In the late sixties and early seventies, high school students
across the country flooded the streets of many cities and towns
demanding "Land to the tiller" "Lower food prices," "Education for
all," and "Political freedom," bringing these issues to the streets and
raising the consciousness of the people in the process. They took the
issues to homes, offices and factories sensitizing the public about
the plight of the peasants and the urban poor.
Ironically, the National Service program was instrumental
in the politicization of these high school students, as university
students were dispatched across the country to address the shortage
of teachers. Mekonen Ragas, killed in Harar in 1969, was one of
those students, who played a pivotal role in politicizing the students.
Harar, for one, was tossed upside down with student unrest
when I was in high school at Medhane Alem. Never a semester
passed by without class boycotts or protest demonstrations. Parents'
committees were set-up by schools so that parents could keep an
eye on their riotous teenagers. Medhane Alem was known for its
student militancy as were other high schools in the country, such as
Menilik II, Teferi Mekonen, Medhane Alem, Etege Menen, Leul
Mekonen, Kokebe Tsebah and Shimeles Habte in Addis, and
Woizero Sihen in Dessie, Atse Gelawdios in Nazaret and
Hailemariam Mammo in Debre Berhan.
Meanwhile, the student movement at the university was
beset by internal strife and became fraught with division, character
assassination, labeling and ostracizing. Extreme radicalism,
fanaticism, intolerance and dogmatism overrode common goals and
aspirations.
 Tower in the sky 89

The divisions were not limited to the students on the home

front. The Ethiopian Students Union in North America (ESUNA)
and the Ethiopian Students Union in Europe (ESUE), whose visions
for their homeland were the same, squabbled over which
"strategies" and "tactics" the revolution should follow, dividing the
students into two antagonistic camps, which would later tum
bloody. The unions also suffered from division and fractures within
themselves, realigning allegiance to differing stances of the times.
The Marxist theoreticians at Haile Selassie I University
scoffed, to put it mildly, at the liberals, moderates and reformists, as
well as at one another. The Marxist-Leninist pen became the means
for thrashing dissenting voices, just as the gun would later become
the weapon of choice for settling scores. However, the general -
student population was not that versed in Marxist literature. Their
consciousness was, for the most part, limited to political
propaganda.
Marxism was not only taken as the only Truth but also
canonized. Questioning or doubting it amounted to blasphemy,
Professor Andreas Eshete, Yale University philosophy graduate,
giving a lecture as part of his course, From Hegel to Marx, in the
1971/1972 academic year at Haile Selassie I University, asked a
packed lecture hall, "What is scientific about socialism?" Seyoum
Belachew, one of the students who attended the lecture, recalled,
"We were not too happy, We saw it as an affront to Marx!"
It was the very belief that Marxism was scientific that gave
it the mandate to be the Truth and the only Truth. Such was the
sense of irrefutability the students had internalized about the theory.
Such was the grip that Marxism had on their minds.
Such was the mind-set that paved the way for what was yet
to come.
90 Tower in the sky

Marxist-Leninist underground study circles sprouted in the early

seventies in the country, recasting the political landscape with the
underground struggle as the main path of resistance. The
professional revolutionary, who would later rule the underworld,
organized clandestine study circles inside and outside of university
campuses and work places, setting the stage for the emergence of a
Marxist-Leninist party. The Crocodile Society was the precursor of
these clandestine study circles. Abyot, the underground organization
I had joined, and other Marxist-Leninist groups inside and outside
the country, were born of such a movement.
Many years elapsed before Matheos Abera, a close friend of
Getachew Maru and a former student activist, related to me about
the new move within the student movement to getting organized
and the division that ensued as a result.
He was a freshman when Tilahun Gizaw was president of
USUAA, after a one-year indoctrination of being a Revo while in
Beedemariam School. Tilahun insisted that, instead of boycotting
classes and coming out with petty issues, they should go in a
different direction. One day at a general assembly at the Christmas
Hall at the Sidist Kilo campus, he cautioned them to be careful...
that they are alone ... and that they have to organize and rally the
people behind them. "Suddenly," Matheos said, laughing and went
on, "Getachew Maru sprang to his feet and thundered at Tilahun.
'Nearly a billion Chinese are with us! The whole world is with us!'
he said and reeled off Mao Tse Tung's thought!"
"What was his point?" I asked, bursting out with laughter.
"He was saying to Tilahun 'What are you afraid of?' You
know, Marxism-Leninism as a concept, as a guide to the student
movement, was not officially talked about before. In fact, Tilahun
was more leftist than Mekonen Bishaw in 1968, when he ran for
USUAA presidency and was defeated. In previous years, the 'I
 Tower in the sky 91

solemnly swear' oath was taken by raising your right hand. The
following year, when Tilahun came back, the oath was recited with
your left fist clenched. It was okay for us. Socialism was okay with
us. But when Getachew came with Maoism, he shook the whole
atmosphere! We said, 'We have somebody with courage.'?'
Tilahun was killed and the students withdrew and took
make-up courses in the summer. When they came back to school
the next year, with Getachew now a third-year and Matheos a
second-year student, the first thing they did was re-establish
USUAA. Matheos was on the election committee. He said, "We
knew who to have as secretary. We were the movers and shakers of
the union then. Getachew had to be the secretary."
Mesfin Shiferaw, a close friend of Getachew and a former
student activist, had stated to me about Getachew's preparation for
USUAA congress candidacy. Before Getachew went to Dejen for his
National Service, he was saying to his friends that he would run for
USUAA congress. The whole year he stayed at Dejen, all he did was
hone his public speaking skills. When he came back after a year, his
friends were surprised at how a better speaker he had become.

1970, the year Getachew became secretary of USUAA, was known

as the year a bitter division was born between the junior and the
senior radicals. Getachew and Matheos belonged to the junior and
students such as Tselote Hezkias and Tsegaye Gebremedhin to the
senior radicals. The younger radicals wanted to radicalize the
student movement even more, through increased class boycotts and
demonstrations, in order to politicize the general public. The older
radicals, on the other hand, were in favor of getting organized and
gaining access to the people in order to educate and organize them.
They wanted to remain on campus to realize this goal,
92 Tower in the sky

"We couldn't figure out why all of a sudden the Debteraw

group didn't want to boycott classes," Matheos told me. "It was
around the second semester, and the crisis in the student movement
was looming. High school students boycotted classes. Getachew
became a sensation among them. He became a symbol among high
school students at Teferi Mekonen, Leul Mekonen ...among
students like Mekonen Bayisa, even in places like Dessie. Getachew
was it!"
There was once a meeting on campus. Getachew got up and
gave a speech Matheos says he will never forget. "'OUf dear
calculators,' Getachew criticized the senior radicals in the
graduating class, 'you have come here calculating how much money
you are going to make, when you are going to buy a car, when you
are going to buy a house ... ' Our group was so happy."
"When the conflict between the 4 th year left and the 2nd and
3rd year left became bitter, mediation was started," Matheos
continued. "Getachew said he wouldn't even bother. We met on the
second-floor of the Engineering College. Tselote and Debteraw
came. You know, there are historical accidents. Guess who was
picked up to mediate between the junior left and the senior left?
Girmachew Lemma! He was considered liberal. Somehow, we
couldn't come to an agreement. Insults were hurled around. I must
have threatened Tselote with a stone. Anyway, something silly
happened. "
Getachew and some students boycotted classes but the
Debteraw group stayed on campus. Then high school students
boycotted classes protesting the soaring price of butter. University
students were supposed to initiate the boycotts. They lagged behind
and the university was "exposed."
But Mesfin pointed out to me that the conflict between
Getachew's and Debteraw's groups had started earlier, when
 Tower in the sky 93

Getachew and Mesfin were in the first year. They had a math class
that finished at one 0' clock and they always ran to the cafeteria so
that they didn't miss lunch. One day, while running, they heard a
student among the Debteraw group say, "I wish Christmas would
come and we could be rid of these." Getachew answered back,
"Those who are on academic probation....." Since then a friction was
created between the two groups. The Debteraw group spread a
rumor about Getachew being Pentecostal. Mesfin said, "I don't
know where that came from. I grew up with him. What is more, the
guys were showy and adventurous. We had reservations about
them."
Later, the younger radicals came to realize that there was a
move within the student movement toward organized revolutionary
struggle.
It was with great interest that I listened to Matheos when he
reminisced about their last days at the university and how they too
started getting organized. "When we got into third-year in 1971,
Ginnachew Lemma became president of USUAA.. I was in the
National Affairs Committee. Getachew had finished his term. By
the way, Getachew never had close friends from among the USUAA
radical circle. All his friends were from Engineering College. We
noticed that he was distancing himself from the student movement.
He became serious. He spoke less and you could see his radicalism
and rhetoric waning. In February, all of us, USUAA executives,
were thrown into jail. We were hoping to get out soon but we were
detained for almost six months. We were held in Gibe. After I was
released, Getachew and I met at Varsity Cafe in Amist Kilo. At the
time, he was living with Abiyu Ersamo and Shimeles Retta in
Afincho Ber. He invited me to their place. He cooked pasta. He
liked cooking pasta....you know chopping onions ...He was very
good at it. I was surprised. I didn't know how to cook."
94 Tower in the sky

"There was a study-material in nine series on Historical and

Dialectical Materialism, Political Economy, National Question and
so on," Matheos went on. "He gave me one of them and said that he
would give me more. 'Am I going to study this again?' I asked. He
said, 'You have no discipline! We've got to be serious.' Then I
sensed it had something to do with an organization. I had studied
Marxism-Leninism when I was in grade twelve at Beedemariam
Lab School, long before I met him. It was Tesfu Kidane who had
taught us Marxism-Leninism. Getachew then asked me to organize
study circles for all those who were in prison in Gibe and Kolfe, and
especially for students in high school, Woldeab Haile, Getachew
Assefa, Belay Kebede and I formed a core study circle."
"We helped Alemayehu Egzeru form a study circle in
Gulele, Nadew and Getachew Embusu formed one around Kebena,
Berhanu Gola established one around Shola and Abebe Gelashe
organized one in Teklehaimanot," continued Matheos, "Some went
to the provinces to do the same. Agere Miheretu went to Woldya,
Atalelegn and Marilgn went to Hosana, Alemayhu went to Harar,
Getachew Kumsa went to Adwa, Ginna Bucher went to Wolayita
Sodo and Tsegaye Zerihun went to Jimma. When we were supposed
to be admitted in September, the six of us - ex-active USUAA
officials - were suspended. We were hired as teachers. I went to
Ambo. Everybody quit university. Getachew started teaching at
Shimeles Habte. Ginnachew Lemma joined the labor force. We
started teaching because we were suspended, We had no choice.
Even those who were not suspended started working."
The reason the students quit school was to pursue the
struggle professionally, That was how Abyot was born.
"Endreas Mikael came to Ambo," went on Matheos. "He
was Abiyu Erasmo's friend. He was a fourth-year Alemaya College
student and was already recruited by Abyot. We became roommates.
 Tower in the sky 95

We were also in Gibe prison together. Later, Shimeles Retta came

to Ambo as a teacher. The three of us established cells in Ambo and
in various towns such as Gouder, Nekemt, Shambo and Chincha.
We also established cells in Debre Sina and Fiche. Endreas went to
Wolayita to link with other teachers. I went there too and did
organizational work. What can I tell you? Abyot literally became
large. It became an organization. The network was expanded. You
could feel it."
"Was there an organizational structure?" I asked.
"Absolutely not! There were only cells. The nucleus focused
down to a few people - Getachew and students in Engineering
College and in Gondar."

Organized, albeit rudimentarily, and armed with Marxist theory, the

students wanted to take their struggle to an even higher plane. It had
been quite a while since they were shouting, "Freedom is won
through struggle and violence." Che Guevara had cast his spell on
them and the jungle became bewitching and transcendental. Mao's
12,000 kilometer Long March gave hope and inspiration and Dien
Bein Phu symbolized victory in all its glamour.
The most celebrated revolutionary song of all time, Fano
Tesemara - onward rebel - was sung on campus and in the streets
of Addis, inciting marchers to go into the woods and lead the
struggle like Ho Chi Minh and Che Guevara.
4.'r 4-11 d1Jt? 1- £i '1-11 Of~
L/.£i 11] ~q +~tt-1 A~OD64
A 1,( If:cr1 ",,e :If 1-1!lj~

The Ethiopian Students Union in Europe (ESUE) promptly

hurled its scathing criticism at the students at the university calling
their action "left adventurism," "left infantilism" and "ultra-
leftism." They also charged USUAA leaders of "ultra left errors"
96 Tower in the sky

when the university students commemorated the one hundredth

anniversary of the Paris Commune. No matter what criticisms were
thrown at them, the university students were determined to emulate
Che Guevara.
Armed struggle became the unmistakable avenue to radical
social transformation.
It was from Matheos that I learned about their preparations for
armed struggle. "Getachew talked to me about scouting and things
like that. I had a couple of cameras, a sleeping bag and a tent. I got
those things I guess when I was working as a Research Assistant at
the Faculty of Science. Getachew used to come to Ambo on the
weekend and one day asked me if he could borrow the tent. I will
never forget this. I was pitching the tent in the front yard of our
house in the morning. A cigarette was dangling from my mouth. I
used to smoke like crazy. I saw this man coming. He wore a black
coat, a hat, a black tie, and sunglasses and carried a cane. He looked
like a Mafia debt collector. It was my dad! I threw away the
cigarette. 'Duriye, pick it up!' my father said. 'You see, I've been
telling him to quit but he refused... ' Getachew said. What do you
know? He became friends with my father! Oh! How that guy bonded
with my dad! He then informed me that a student called Eshetu
would introduce Endreas and me to someone who would give us
commando training. The fellow was a retired Paratrooper Sergeant.
He trained us in Taekwondo in Ambo for three weeks in a trench
after school hours."
"Endreas had a gun ...a Beretta," went on Matheos.
"Getachew suggested we should get one too. A gun cost 250 birr at
the time. I had friends in Mercato. We bought one for me and one
for Abiyu Ersamo, We started getting serious. We got permits for
our guns. You could easily get a license if you went to the
 Tower in the sky 97

provinces. You get your gun registered but you are penalized for
buying it contraband. That was it."
"In the summer of 1973, it was suggested that we get in
touch with the Sergeant again. It was around Filseta fasting season.
The four of us - Getachew Maru, Abiyu Ersamo, Endreas Mikael
and I - went to Langano with the Sergeant. The place was behind
Aklilu Habtewold's summer house. It was about three kilometers
from Bekele Molla resorts. Getachew had surveyed the area ahead
of time. We stayed there in a tent getting military training for one
month."
That was the time I went on summer vacation to Harar. I had
no idea Getachew was involved in something like that.
"We did not go out except for more training," Matheos went
on. "I had started dating then. I wanted the training to end sooner. I
used to sneak out in the middle of the night and have a Sprite at
Bekele Mella's. There was a discussion every night. Our trainer
didn't understand much. We had interesting discussions, more on
social and interpersonal issues. At some point I said, 'This is a poor
country and it would be a problem when socialism comes. How are
we going to feed the people let alone build the economy? I don't
think it will be that easy.' At the time, there was famine in the
country. Abiyu said, 'It is easy to feed the people.' We asked him
how. He said, 'Kocho - enset - grows easily in dry soil. If only the
people could get used to it.' I said, 'Getachew! I was thinking of
feeding the people injera with chicken sauce! If we are feeding
them kocho, why am I struggling? I was thinking of giving them a
better alternative. There is no need to fight to eat kocho.' He said to
me, 'What kind of person are you?' I said, 'Getachew, I'm telling
you the truth. There is no need for bloodshed to feed the people
kocho!'"
98 Tower in the sky

I burst into a roar of laughter. Kocho is flat bread made from

pulverized and fermented false banana.
"We had near misses when training," Matheos continued.
"One day, we were practicing air pipe chock with a rope. You are
not supposed to turn when you do that. Getachew turned his head
and he had this scar on his neck. We suggested to him to wear a
turtleneck sweater. When you throw kicks, you lift your leg up and
kick and the other person is supposed to retreat or defend. I hit him
on his side. He stopped breathing for almost five minutes. I didn't
know what to do. This is training. You hit unintentionally. We even
practiced how to kill and revive. We used real knife too. We took
the training seriously. Well, we returned from camping after a
month. Something about Taekwondo is that it teaches you self-
discipline -and inwardness. We were young - we were in our early
twenties. The year was 1973. We were physically strong and we
came out tempered. That was also how great our friendship was."
What was interesting was that, without communication of
any kind, at exactly the same time Abyot members were training in
Taekwondo in Langano, some members of the Algeria Group, the
group that hijacked an Ethiopian airline in August 1969, were
taking military training with Nayef Hawatmeh's Popular
Democratic Front for the Liberation of Palestine - and the rest with
Vasser Arafat's Al Fatah in Syria!
The students had labored for many years to incite a
revolution. They were the only organized body and the sole vocal
opponents of the Haile Selassie regime. But a new era had begun by
which the people, mainly urban dwellers, took matters into their
own hands but were haunted by the specter of another organized body.
 Tower in the sky 99

What we call the beginning is often the end. And to make an end is to
make a beginning.
The end is where we startfrom.
-T. S. Eliot

On Apri123, 1974, a little over two months after the revolution had
erupted, Endalkachew's government declared that the party was
over. It prohibited demonstrations and strikes. Some ministers and
high-ranking officials of the previous government were thrown into
jail accused of corruption and mismanagement. The government
was not unified and had no full control over the military.
That was its undoing.
As for us university students, even before we made up our
minds whether or not to withdraw we were ejected out of campus
with the excuse that there was not enough time to complete the
academic year. Closing the university was one less headache for the
government that was simmering in a pressure cooker. The radicals
were impatient with a reformist government and demanded the
resignation of Endalkachew and the establishment of a Provisional
Peoples' Government.
Nothing short of regime change was acceptable to them.
We had taken it for granted that the army would have rallied
round the people, when it had earlier staged a series of mutinies
across the country. However, it had gone back to its barracks after
the government had tried to satisfy its demands. We accused it of
betraying the revolution and the people. It came out again, this time
in support of the people, and held a series of mutinies and watched
demonstrations with their muzzles pointed down - a bad omen for
the government.
The Seven-man Committee, set up earlier by the armed
forces and led by a Major named Tefera Tekleab, sent a telegram in
June to members of the army to send their representatives. Thus was
100 Tower in the sky

born the Derg, the Coordinating Committee of the Armed Forces,

comprising middle and lower-rung officers. Lieutenant-General
Arnan Mikael Andom, a man with an illustrious military career,
became chair of the Derg. An obscure Major, Mengistu
Hailemariam, dubbed a "trouble maker" by some, became the vice-
chairman. Even though Arnan Andom, who was not a member of
the Derg, was the chairperson, Mengistu was the real leader who
maneuvered behind the scene.
When it became clear that the Derg was poised to fill the
vacuum created by the revolution, uncertainty, anxiety, fear and
ambiguity began diluting the hopes, optimism, sense of euphoria,
and aspirations of the people. A military government was by no
means desirable but they didn't know what to make of the Derg's
promises of respecting their rights and realizing their dreams.
It kept telling them that it was born in their bosom and was
there to serve them and protect the revolution from those who
wanted to turn back the tide. However, many were suspicious of its
motives. Particularly the students and progressive forces warned
that it would hijack the revolution, as there was no civilian
organized body contending for leadership. Others wanted to give it
the benefit of the doubt and hailed the vice-chairman, Mengistu
Hailemariam, as the "man of the people."
All too soon, events would prove their naivete.
The Derg took power unofficially in June and did some
housekeeping until August, setting the stage for its ascent to power.
In July, it replaced Prime Minister Endalkachew with Lij Mikael
Imiru, son of Ras Imiru Haile Selassie cousin of the Emperor.
Ras Imiru was briefly leader of the Resistance in western Ethiopia
after Emperor Haile Selassie went into exile during the occupation
of the country by Fascist Italy in 1936. The Derg issued a series of
warnings and imprisoned members of the aristocracy, royal family
 Tower in the sky 101

and some of its radical members. It coined its first slogan, Ethiopia
Tikdem - Ethiopia First. It took control of the media and other
government establishments - a bad omen for the country: it
foreshadowed the beginning of the end of the revolution.

Getachew had missed out on all of that. It was only during those
tumultuous months that it got through my head that what was
happening was what he had worked so hard to bring forth. I
marveled at the irony of life. I often wondered what he did, what he
ate and how he felt. I dreamed of the day he would come out. I
hankered for our theoretical discussions in the tiny and semi-dark
room and our endless talk and laughter at Harar Migib Bet.
I missed his timid smile and his gentle soul.
I wondered what had happened to the gods' herald who
brought me the tidings of my Abyot membership. I later learned that
he might have been Nolawi Abebe. Nolawi was one of the founding
members of Abyot. He was in prison with Getachew at the time.
I had not read a single Marxist book since Getachew was
arrested. In many ways, the revolution itself was my teacher. I had
leamed so much more about revolution and change from life itself
than I did from books.
I felt I had come of age.
It was sometime in June, almost five months after the
revolution had erupted. I was home and casually picked up the
phone when it rang. I couldn't believe it. All I could say was,
"Getachew!" He was released after nine months of imprisonment.
We met in the afternoon in the small house behind Engineering
College. He looked thinner and darker but cheerful.
"I don't believe you are out, Getachew. I didn't even know
where you were held," I said.
102 Tower in the sky

"We were held at the Kerchele. They accused us of

subversive activities. I'm not sure if you had heard about it, there
was a riot by inmates in March. Many were killed. It was terrible."
"Was it the first time for you, to have been arrested?"
"I've been in and out a few times but only for short periods."
I wanted to tell him how I felt about him but I was terrified.
I then mustered my courage and said, "Remember what you told me
in that classroom just before you were arrested? I meant to tell you
how I felt about you the next time I saw you. I was too shy and too
overwhelmed to say it that day. Besides, I was ashamed you saw me
in that skirt. I felt bad when you were arrested before I even got the
chance to tell you how I felt about you. So you can take this as a
confession..." My heart almost burst asunder. He clamped my
mouth with his hand as if what he was going to hear would be too
much to bear.
"I thought about you all the time. I don't remember a day
that passed by without thinking about you. I am so glad to be with
you again," he said.
It was only years later that I leamed from Mesfin,
Getachew's childhood friend, why "Getachew Maru's group" was
thrown into jaiL
"Ten of us - eight from here and two from Gondar - were
arrested," Mesfin reminisced. "We were accused of plotting to
overthrow the government and of producing and distributing
divisive and subversive leaflets. A letter, actually a twenty-eight
page hand-written propaganda material, was mailed to someone
with whom we had communication in Gondar and it was intercepted
by the security. However, when we appeared in court, they could
not present that twenty-eight page letter as evidence for the
accusation because it was considered a personal letter and
intercepting individuals' personal letters was illegal then as long as
 Tower in the sky 103

the material was not duplicated and distributed to others. We were

also accused of supporting a group of people who protested the
Emperor's intention to give up a piece of land to the Sudan. One of
the documents confiscated from us was an explosives manual. We
were studying about explosives and weapons. Let me tell you
something about Getachew. When he was arrested, he and Tadesse
took all the responsibility upon themselves to save the rest of us.
Some of us were taken away later. They were ready to die and save
the rest of us. They told us not to admit anything and that they had
taken the responsibility for everything."
Matheos had misgivings about the letter intercepted by the
security. "Getachew... and the rest of the Abyot inner circle - all of
whom were in Engineering College - were jailed. Endreas and I
were not. You have no idea how angry I was. All that
organization...the training we took ... Getachew Maru was a demi-
god. 'How is it that things got so messy?' I thought. Anyway, I
couldn't forgive him."
He refused when other Abyot members, such as Endreas and
Getachew Assefa, suggested they talk. He told them they had to
reengineer the whole thing from scratch. He made some people
dissociate themselves from Abyot.

I promised myself that now Getachew is out, I would be a good

revolutionary. The past few months had taught me what it meant to
be a revolutionary and why I was studying Marxism/Leninism. We
went back to our weekend ritual of going to Harar Migib Bet and
studying Wednesday evening. We discussed articles, pamphlets and
books. He gave me three books that transformed my life. While
reading, I felt I was spellbound and transported to a magical world.
I even found the danger embedded in the stories beguiling. Maxim
Gorky's Mother was actually the one that gave me an idea of what I
 ,
104 Tower in the sky

would be doing in the underground organization. Pavel Vlassov

became a model revolutionary to me. More than anything else, I
was inspired and moved by the story of his mother.
Nguyen Van Troi, a book about the story of a young Viet
Cong who attempted to kill Robert McNamara, the then US
Secretary of Defense, and Henry Cabot Loge Jr, gripped me from
beginning to end. Troi's "Long live Vietnam!" during his execution
remained engraved in my imagination. I was amazed at his audacity
to shout a slogan in the face of death. He became the ultimate
source of inspiration to me. Song of Ariran, the story of a Korean
man who had joined the Chinese Communist Party, was another
book that I found fascinating and inspiring.
Those were one of the best times of my life .
.' "Why? Why me?" I asked during my illness and before I
met Getachew. My restless heart had kept on searching for an
answer. There was no answer, but healing later came in the shape of
a young man named Getachew Maru, Every book he discussed,
every word he uttered, every concept he defined and every sentence
he completed had a healing touch. It awakened my brain and
soothed my troubled heart.
Getachew was the shaman who resuscitated my lethargic
soul and solved my existential riddle.
I never told Getachew about my illness. Neither did he say
much about himself. I learned about him only in bits and pieces. He
had come from a large family of eight brothers and sisters. He was
rebellious when he was in elementary schooL One day he ground a
pinecone and put it in the house. The house smelled so bad
everybody had to leave. His father, a colonel in the army, even
contemplated putting him in Tebai Maremia - youth correctional
institute. He completely changed when he went to high school. He
retreated to his room and buried his head in books. He either read or
 Tower in the sky 105

wrote when at home. When he was in grade eight, he brought home

a typewriter and taught himself how to type in one day! He may
have been unknowingly preparing himself for what was to come. He
was recognized as "best teacher of the year" when he was teaching
at Shimeles Habte.
Mesfin and Getachew were friends since seventh grade.
They went to Arbegnoch School. "He used to call himself
Communist when we were in grade eight," Mesfin laughed. "I've
never heard anyone say anything like that at that age. He didn't
even know what it was."
Getachew used to fight in elementary school and no one
could beat him. One day, he had a fight with a boy who was older
and bigger than he was. He threw him on the ground and Mesfin
and other friends laughed. The boy got up and wanted to hit him but
Getachew flung him to the ground again. The boy's mother later
said, "1 know Getachew. He is kecherot" In grade eight, this teacher
was about to beat him one day but Getachew got up and held both
his legs. The teacher couldn't do anything so he let him go.
When Getachew and Mesfin finished grade eight, Getachew
went to Beedemariam Lab School. Mesfin remembered, "In Lab
School, Getachew became a different and disciplined person and
excelled academically. He didn't do that well in elementary school
because he never took school seriously. When he graduated from
Beedemariam, he was the best student and was the valedictorian of
1966. At the university, he was brilliant and the best in the
//

department of Mechanical Engineering just as Abiyu Ersamo was in

the Faculty of Education. We were members of the Science Club
and we used to do things in the lab such as rockets. Getachew was
very creative."
106 Tower in the sky

Getachew Maru giving his valedictorian speech at Lab School,

1966; left to right Kassa Woldemariam, President, Haile Selassie
/ University, Akalewold Habtewold, Minister ofEducation,
Mulugeta Wodajo, lecturer Haile Selassie 1 University.

Getachew Maru
as freshman, 1967 Getachew Maru, 1969

/'
 Tower in the sky 107

Hiwot, 1972

Hiwot, 1972

Around the time J met

Getachew, 1973
108 Tower in the sky

Kissing Pool

Ras Mekon en Ha ll
 Tower in the sky 109

Beedemariam Laboratory School was inside the Sidist Kilo

university campus and students with the highest grades from all
over the country were sent there .
"I was introduced to Getachew when we were in our
freshman year in 1967," Shimeles, a friend of Getachew,
recollected. "We were dorm-mates and later rented a house
together. He didn 't come to class for one week when we were in our
freshman year. When he came back, he had his hair almost shaved
off. We didn 't know what had happened. We later learned that his
mother had passed away ."
Getachew did not eat or talk for several days after his
mother died. He must have been deeply affected by her death.
"Getachew's father drove a Volkswagen and used to come
to campus whenever there was a mass demonstration," Shimeles
went on. "He always ~happ ened to see me first and asked me if his
son was okay. He used to worry about him so much. I always went
to look for Getachew and brought him to his father. Getachew was
younger than I was. He was an outstanding student and very good at
giving response instantly. He slept at the desk in the classroom
covering his head with his jacket whenever he found a lecture
boring. The lecturer would feel that he had not motivated him.
When we studied and worried about exams, he would sit and draft
his speech but had a 3.86 average!"
Shimeles was referring to the speeches Getachew made
when he was secretary of USUAA .
"When we were in our freshman year," Shimeles continued,
"Getachew had a lawyer's briefcase in which we put loose tea, a
kettle, a spoon, and a ball. We would then go to room number 237,
one of those larger classrooms, and play soccer and go to our rented
house at Amist Kilo around one in the morning without turning a
single page . Getachew used to read Peking Review. His mail slot
110 Tower in the sky

was always jammed with subscription magazines. He was funny

and was a man of iron discipline. He had finn adherence to what he
believed to be genuine principle. He also had high regard for his
friends."
This was also what Matheos had told me about Getachew.
"For instance, if 1 asked him to meet at Kryiazis or have ice-cream,
he would say, 'Are you out of your mind? That is jolly Jackism.'
When we pushed it, you could see him becoming uneasy. Getachew
was an introvert. He was serious and disciplined. He had strict
standards of revolutionary behavior and about anything personal.
He did not smoke, he did not drink... we did everything. He was
dogmatic about Maoism too."

Right after Getachew was released, Abyot, the organ of the

organization I had joined, started coming out. It was only later that I
learned Getachew was its editor. One day, not too long after he was
released, we met at the bus station adjoining Anbessa Gibi and took
a long walk toward Menilik Hospital.
"A discussion is going on in our organization about a
possible merger with other groups with similar goals," he said.
"There are progressive groups that we can potentially work with
such as the Democracia group, Meison and the Red Flag."
"I know a little about Melson and the Red Flag but nothing
about Democracia;" I admitted. I have recently been reading issues
of Democracia but I knew next to nothing about the group. Meison,
the Amharic acronym for All Ethiopian Socialist Movement -
AESM - was also circulating its organ, Voice of the Masses, at the
time.
"It is a small group. The Red Flag is a very small group too.
Actually, there is a joke about the Red Flag. They say their
membership is not even 'enough for one bercha. ,,, Getachew
 Tower in the sky 111

laughed. "Jokes aside, we have common goals. We are by far the

largest group. We have organized particularly the youth. We are
even thinking of preparing ourselves for the ultimate."
"The ultimate?"
"You know, no ruler gives up political power willingly," he
explained softly. "In a country like ours, rural armed struggle is the
main avenue through which the masses seize political power. Some
of the groups have differing views on this. For instance, Meison
says that we should first focus on educating and organizing the
people. They say the time is not ripe for armed struggle. We say it
is. We may have differences with all of them on certain issues, but
to my mind, we should be able to work together. OUf twin enemies
are feudalism and imperialism and we should work with all anti-
feudal and anti-imperialist forces, including the military junta.
There is no group capable of giving leadership to the revolution at
this point. We were caught off guard by it. Because of the power
vacuum, you could say that the military junta has assumed power
even though it is not yet official. We have to work together for a
common goal. Think about all the groups and cast your vote. I don't
want to influence your decision. If you have questions, I can
answer them."
All the groups claimed to be Marxist-Leninist and it was
--dJfficult for me to make up my mind. There was already a negative
rumor spreading about Meison for its position of support to the Derg
when Democracia pushed for a civilian provisional government. I
did not like the Red Flag because of an individual, who looked
down upon my friends and me. I needed to talk to Azeb. I wondered
if that would be a violation of discipline but I didn't see any harm in
it. I found her in the same situation. Finally, we cast our vote in
favor of the Democracia group even if we didn't know anything
112 Tower in the sky

about them. We had read Democracia and liked it and that was
enough for us.
It was only later that I learned that Abyot, the Democracia
group and Meison had actually been working jointly, before the
revolution, for a short period. They had an internal publication
called Ewneta -Truth.
The Democracia group, so called then by its organ,
belonged to the Ethiopian Peoples' Liberation Organization (EPLO -
a merger of various groups, one of which was the Algeria Group).
Unlike Abyot, which was founded in the country, EPLO and Meison
were established in Europe. All of them had eminent names
attached to them. Getachew belonged to the young generation of
radicals that came on the university campus political scene in the
late sixties and early seventies. He was the most famous member of
Abyot. The celebrated student activist, Berhanemeskel Redda, was
Secretary-General of the EPLO. Haile Fida, another distinguished
student activist, was Meison's leader.
It was Matheos who enlightened me about the early days of
the various organizations and their publications. "We duplicated
leaflets with adefris," he reminisced. "Adefris was a wooden frame
with a silk screen on top and a cutting-board like wood at the
bottom. Democracia started coming out in June 1974. Abyot came
out later, in July or August. Like Democracia the Voice of the
Masses, the organ of Meison, had come out earlier. Abyot was hard-
hitting, while Democracia was more moderate. The content was the
same, though. We later found the first real duplicating machine,
which could print the Democracia logo in red. We duplicated
Democracia and Abyot in shift. One day, somebody from Meison
came and asked me to duplicate Voice of the Masses for them. He
told me that their duplicating machine was broken. I duplicated it
for them."
 Tower in the sky 113

"1 hadn't seen Getachew for a while," Matheos went on.

"Merger between Abyot and Democracia was in the air. I met
Getachew Assefa one day and he asked if Getachew Maru has
gotten a "promotion over there?" I told him I didn't know."
Getachew Maru was one of the two negotiators sent from
Abyot when negotiation about the merger took place between Abyot
and the Democracia group. That was the "promotion" Getachew
Assefa was referring to. Abyot members had reservations about the
Democracia group and were not yet ready for the merger. The
Democracia group, with people like Tselote Hezkias, Zero Kishen
and Tsegaye Gebremedhin (Debteraw), was associated with the
EPLO.
"I had dissociated some people from Abyot and brought
them to Democracia," Matheos told me. "This was after Getachew
and the others went to prison. When it was asked who had brought
Abyot members to Democracia, my name came up. Getachew was
angry with me and he did not want to speak to me."
"One day, I saw him at Sidist Kilo around the zoo. He was
with a girl. I was astonished because I had never seen him with a
woman. You have no idea! I think it was you that I saw," Matheos
said, looking up at me. "You know, you are off guard when you are
with a girl. He nodded to me with a sense of bashfulness and a half
smile. Apparently, when 1 saw him with a girl he had a sinking
feeling of what I was thinking of him. All that inhibition had left
him. I was in a hurry to go to town and spread the news. Later I
heard that he was saying, 'Dating is good. It is good for the
revolution.' I was surprised. Then the merger took place and he
joined the Politburo."
The merger between Abyot and the EPLO took place and
some members of the Red Flag joined them. The organization took
the name EPLO, retaining both Democracia and Abyot as its organs.
114 Tower in the sky

Abyot was directed at workers and Democracia targeted the general

population.

We, university students, returned to campus at the beginning of

September 1974, but there were no classes. Azeb and I stayed in the
dorm. One day, we flocked to the Christmas Hall to watch A luta
continua, the film about FRELIMO, the Liberation Front of
Mozambique, struggling to free Mozambique from Portuguese rule.
I saw Josina Machel's -Samora Machel's first wife's - epitaph on a
tomb. In a moment of madness, I wished it were mine.
Even death has its seductive moments.
I saw myself in the jungle, a rifle dangling from my
shoulder, just like the FRELIMO guerrilla fighters. I was so excited I
wanted to scream. When the film ended, the audience was
enraptured. Some ran wild and threw chairs; others pushed and
shoved to get out. My friends and I were terrified of being trampled.
We made it out safely. We had watched October, the silent film
about Lenin and the October revolution, earlier. It was nowhere
near as arousing as the FRELIMO film.
The jungle had its own fascination.

On the 12th of the month, the Derg deposed Emperor Haile Selassie,
ending fifty years of rule and the Solomonic Dynasty. The Derg
filled the vacated throne, called itself the "Provisional Military
Administrative Council" and promised it would return to its barrack
after transferring power to the people.
Nobody believed it.
After seven months of turmoil, the revolution, as many
feared, was officially hijacked by the military.
The conflict between students and the Derg became
apparent. On 16 September, university students organized a
demonstration that commenced from Arat Kilo campus. It was
 Tower in the sky 115

going to be the litmus test for the Derg's patience. Azeb was already
there in her white thin corduroy pants, white T-shirt and white
snickers when I got there. Students carried placards with slogans:
"Democratic rights now!" "Provisional Peoples' Government!"
"Down with feudalism and imperialism." We marched peacefully
toward Piassa.
All of a sudden, we heard shots when we reached Berhanena
Selam Printing Press in Arat Kilo. There was total chaos. We ran in
all directions. Many tried to scale the barbed-wire fence of
Berhanena Selam, to no avail. Others, including me, fled toward the
street that led to Amist Kilo. We invaded the compound with a
cluster of houses just across Princess Zuriash Building. I thought of
running into one of the houses but got into a mud wall kitchen
instead. I saw a huge barrel behind the door and hid beside it,
leaving the door open.
I tried to peep through the crack in the door to see what was
happening outside but something was in my way. A soldier passed
by the kitchen door and suddenly I heard a cry. I looked toward
where I suspected it had come from. A boy, about eight years old,
was squatting beside me! "Shush! What are you doing hiding here?
They are not going to do anything to you. You will get me arrested
instead," I said in a whisper.
I saw through the crevice on the door soldiers knocking on
peoples' doors and dragging out students. A soldier came into the
kitchen carrying a baton. I watched him clamping my hand tight
over the boy's mouth. He scanned the kitchen and left. Another
soldier came in, did the same thing, and darted out. It never
occurred to them to look behind the door.
After about twenty minutes or so, everything became quiet. I
asked the boy to go out and see if the soldiers had gone. He never
came back. After I made sure it was all quiet and after seeing
116 Tower in the sky

demonstrators coming out of their hideouts, I emerged from the

kitchen and stepped out of the compound. I saw soldiers hauling off
and kicking students in front of the Second Police Station, which is
just across the street. I took the small street that led to Amist Kilo
and hailed a taxi from there.
It was already lunchtime when I got home. I changed my
clothes before my sister and my brother-in-law came home from
work for lunch. It was when I took off my brown pants and beige
jacket that I noticed that they were marred with soot. I heard my
sister's footsteps coming toward my bedroom. I was sitting on my bed.

"Have you been at the demonstration?" she asked.

"No, I didn't even know there was one," I lied.
"What is on your hair?"
"I don't know," I said, touching my hair with my hand.
She left without saying anything. I rose and went to the
mirror. My hair was covered in spider webs!

A few days after the protest rally, the Derg declared a state of
emergency prohibiting protest demonstrations and strikes. It held
union leaders and members of the armed forces in custody, accusing
them of calling out for Provisional Peoples' Government, and killed
peasants in different provinces for demanding land. In October, it
threw teachers and others into jail, on charges of pushing for a
Provisional Peoples' Government. Five members of the armed
forces were killed, and several wounded, in Harar. A number of
people standing in front of the office of the workers' union looking
for a job were mercilessly shot dead.
The Derg's motto, Ethiopia Tikdem ..valeminim dem -
Ethiopia first without bloodshed - became tainted with blood.
The Derg realized right away that it was not going to
consolidate its grip on power as long as it kept the students in its
 Tower in the sky 117

bosom. Before October was out, it openly talked about dispatching

us to rural areas in the name of a Zemecha - National Campaign for
Development through Cooperation. We were to educate the
peasantry about the spirit of Ethiopia Tikdem, and prepare them for
land reform and conduct a literacy campaign. University and high
school students (those in grade ten and above) and teachers would
be sent off to rural areas for ten months.
At the university, we were divided over the question of the
Zemecha. Some saw it as an opportunity to educate and organize the
peasantry. Most students, however, were suspicious of the Derg's
motives. They saw the Zemecha as nothing but an ingenious plot to
stifle the struggle and solidify the Derg's power. We assembled at
the Christmas Hall and saw debates seething on whether or not we
should go. We took lunch breaks and packed the hall for days to
continue talking.
My friends and I were against the Zemecha, but each
position had its own merit. One moming, Meles Tekle, a vocal
opponent of the Zemecha, gave the speech of his life. There was a
thundering applause when he said in English, "Try to teach the
Eritrean peasant how to wash his hands; he will instruct you how to
pull the trigger!" We became ecstatic and kept clapping feverishly
and non-stop.
We overwhelmingly voted against the Zemecha.

On November 22, the Derg's brutality was officially unleashed. I

was home when the radio announced the execution of sixty people,
over fifty of whom were ministers and high officials of the former
regime; the rest were members of the Derg. Lieutenant-General
Arnan Andom, chair of the Derg, was also killed. Among the
executed were also the two former Prime Ministers, Tsehaji Tizaz
Aklilu Habtewold and Lij Endalkachew Mekonen. I stood unable to
118 Tower in the sky

say anything, while my sister Almaz was crying and shivering. She
kept saying, "They killed them alL They killed them all!"
The entire country was gripped by shock, fear and terror. All
progressive forces condemned the brutal act through their
publications. Democracia declared that Fascism reigned in the
country.

I was sitting and chatting with Getachew in the small house a few
days after the executions. Suddenly, he asked, "So Hiwot, what do
you think of Democracia claiming that Fascism prevails in the
country?"
"Oh I don't know ...."
"The measure the junta has taken on the sixty people is
definitely fascistic," he began, in his usual gentle voice. "There is
no doubt about that. But can we say that Fascism has reigned in a
country where capitalism is only now budding? I don't claim to
have knowledge of Fascism, but I know that we are merely being
pedantic. The problem is that we are not theoretically equipped to
grasp some of the emerging issues. We have to have a clear
understanding of the objective conditions of the country, the nature
of the military junta and all the anti-feudal and anti-imperialist
forces that we can work with. Right now, we are merely throwing
around terms and labels we don't even know much about."
"1 don't know. I don't know anything about Fascism," I
admitted.
"Besides," he went on, mixing Amharic and English,
"besides, we need to be clear about our characterizations of the
Derg. We have to be careful too. It is not a unified entity. There are
democratic forces in its midst. There are also individuals with
militaristic dictatorship tendencies and others loyal to the previous
regime. We will alienate the democratic forces and push the Derg
 Tower in the sky 119

toward more political repression if we continue to characterize it as

such."
I promised myself I would read about this new thing called
Fascism. I had heard the word in association with Benito Mussolini
of Italy.

It might have been around the end of the month or beginning of

December, Azeb and I were heading toward the Arts Building when
we ran into Meles Tekle in the parking lot in front of the building.
Our group had become friends with him lately. He had taken a
liking to our friend Mekdes even though he saw her as his class
enemy. One day, he even took Azeb and me to a place where
Struggle, organ of the students' union, was duplicated. We helped
out with stapling the pamphlet.
"You contradicted Abebech on the national question last
night. How dare you? Don't you know that she is your
mastermind?" he screamed at Azeb.
Azeb had a debate with Abebech on the national question
the previous night. That was what he was referring to. Azeb became
flustered and simply stared at him. I became indignant.
"How can you talk to her like that? Who do you think you
are? And who do you think Abebech is? She is not our mastermind!
We can think for ourselves and can say whatever we want to say
and it is nobody's business." I poured out my anger.
I could not usually summon that kind of courage to talk to
people like that. But I was so outraged by the way he treated Azeb, I
couldn't control myself We decamped, leaving him there.
"How could you allow him to talk to you like that?" I asked
her on our way back to the donn. She didn't say anything. I saw her
eyes moist I felt bad about the whole situation. I didn't like talking
to Meles like that but neither did I like the way he treated Azeb. I
120 Tower in the sky

looked at her one more time and my stomach churned. I will talk to
him again when I see him next.
The next day we were stupefied when we learned that he'd
been arrested. He had recently become more popular because of his
electrifying speech against the Zemecha at the Christmas Hall. We
suspected they arrested him because of that speech or for ridiculing
Derg members, Captain Sisay Habte, Captain Endale Tessema and
others, who had come during the revolutionary days to talk to the
students at the Arat Kilo campus. Students signed petitions for his
release, to no avail.

On 19 December, the Derg officially declared its version of

socialism, Ethiopian Socialism and subsequently nationalized all the
country's banks and insurance companies. It cloaked itself with
leftist slogans and spoke the language of the left in order to find
currency among them.
During the revolution, EPLO and Meison had emerged as the
two main organized and most vocal forces in the political landscape
of the country. EPLO, on one of its organs Democracia (Abyot being
the other), repeatedly demanded the Derg to return to its barrack
and called for the transfer of power to the people in the form of a
Provisional Peoples' Government (PPG). Meison, on the other hand,
maintained that the people have to be educated and organized first
before they assumed political power. As a result, it took the position
of "support" to the Derg, which would later be revised as
"constructive criticism," that is, encouraging the Derg on certain
issues and criticizing it on others. Meison insisted that its support
was rather to progressive elements within the Derg.

The Zemecha was declared, and no one who refused to go would be

able to go back to school or be able to work, the Derg had warned.
 Tower in the sky 121

It was launched on December 20 at the Jan Meda Many students

went. My friends and I did not. Mengistu Hailemariam, vice-chair
of the Derg, addressed the zemachoch - campaigners - and they
shouted "Menge! Menge!" Many still believed he was the "man of
the people." It was obvious that day that Mengistu took this
endearment to heart.
Even though we had overwhelmingly voted not to
participate in the Zemecha, the Derg was heedless of our decision.
Zemach - campaigner - assignment list was posted right away at the
Arts Building. Kidist, Sara and I were assigned to the Southwest, in
the province of Wolega, I was assigned to a tiny village called
Guliso, Kidist to Gimbi and Sara to Nejo. Azeb was to go to Shilabo
to the East, in the province of Hararghe.
Before the end of December, I took the train to Harar to say
goodbye to my mother and my younger sister Negede, I came back
to Addis a week later, thinking that I wou.ld soon be dispatched
to Guliso.
122 Tower in the sky

All is not well.

-William Shakespeare, Hamlet

In January 1975, the first batch of the 60,000 zemachoch was

dispatched to the South. They kept us on standby with a twenty-four
hour notice to leave. We tuned into the radio, watched television
and pored over the papers every day to catch on our departure dates.
Sara and Kidist left toward the end of the month. A few days after
they left, I learned that Guliso Zemecha Tabia - Zemecha Station -
was being renovated and my departure date had indefinitely been
postponed. Azeb was not called either, for reasons I cannot
remember. In the mean time, I found out that there was an
exemption from the Zemecha for those with genuine reasons.
When the issue of the Zemecha came up, my family's
greatest concern was my health. How was I to deal with the lack of
balanced diet and regular visit to the doctor and continued supply of
medication?
After I found out about the possibility of exemption from the
Zemecha I consulted my sister Almaz and visited my doctor to get
a medical certificate. I took the certificate to the Zemecha Memria>-
Campaign office - right away. Engineering College, in Amist Kilo,
has once been the seat of higher education but had been turned into
a Zemecha office, swarmed by people clad in uniform. It W3:S the
first time I set foot on the campus.
I waited in the hallway until it was my tum to be attended to.
Looking at the classrooms, I wondered which ones Getachew had
taken courses in. I was then asked to come into an office. A man in
a military uniform sitting behind his desk pointed me to a chair to
sit down. "How can I help you," he asked, fumbling through a stack
of papers. I gave him my medical certificate without a word. He
examined it for a few seconds, put it on the desk, went through a
list, and told me I was assigned in Addis Ababa at Ba'ta Mariam
 Tower in the sky 123

Zemecha Tabia. It wasn't what I had hoped for but staying in Addis
was not a bad idea, after all. But I was rather surprised that it did not
take the man that long to approve my application. The certificate
was signed by Dr. Taye Mekuria, one of the two renowned surgeons
in the country at the time, the other one being Dr. Asrat Woldeyes.
Azeb too applied for an exemption and was assigned in Addis at
Etege Mesk Zemecha Tabia.
By the beginning of February 1975, I was already registered
at Ba'ta Mariam Zemecha Tabia, located in Ba'ta Clinic, a Family
Planning Clinic located beside Ba'ta Mariam church, just below the
Parliament Building. We held meetings in the morning with the
Azmach - the Zemecha Secretary - my fanner teacher at the
Woizero Yeshimebet Elementary School for girls in Harar.
In the afternoon, we taught literacy as part of the Derg's
literacy campaign. I started volunteering at the clinic right away,
helping distribute milk and hygiene items to poor mothers. I was
later elected Assistant Secretary of the Zemecha Tabia. In the
afternoon, I worked in the office for an hour or so and went to the
YMCA where I held a literacy class with children.

Just after I was registered at Ba'ta Mariam Zemecha Tabia, the day
I've been dreaming about finally arrived. Getachew told me that I
would be working with women when we met one day at the small
house. He had told me to recruit zemachoch into study circles,
thinking that I was going to Guliso. Now that I remained in Addis,
he told me that the focus would be on Addis Ababa zemachoch.
"You will be meeting the comrade tomorrow. She will be
waiting for you in front of Meske1Rendezvous," he told me.
I noticed that members of the organization called one
another comrades, just like Chinese Communist Party members.
"Oh great!" I uttered gleefully.
124 Tower in the sky

He gave me a secret code and I met the comrade the next

day. We talked and set an appointment for another day. We met a
few times after that She even took me to her apartment once. I later
learned that she had come from abroad. As for our underground
work, there was nothing much we did except talking. I was eager to
roll up my sleeves and get on with it. After we met a few times, I
felt my eagerness ebbing away.

At the time, I lived with my sister Almaz and family in Abware,

which was within walking distance from Ba'ta Mariam Zemecha
Tabia. I often walked to and from the Zemecha Tabia and heard
someone callout "Teacher!" It was always one of my female
students sitting under the sun selling charcoal or vegetable in the
market I felt sorry for the girls, who came to class in the afternoon
after a trying day in the market.
The girls lived in the neighborhood just below the
parliament. It was one of the poorest neighborhoods in Addis. I
became acquainted with their mothers, who sometimes welcomed
me into their homes. Tears welled up in my eyes to see the girls,
looking hungry, their clothes tom and their hair dusty but assuming
family responsibility at such a tender age. They swept the floor, did
the laundry and ran errands. They were seven, eight, nine or ten
years old.
I stole flour, oil, onions, coffee, sugar, hair oil, just about
anything I could lay my hands on, from home and gave it to the
mothers of my students. My sister once gave me children's clothing
and I distributed it all to the kids. The humility of the mothers of my
students was so touching; I often wiped my tears leaving their
houses.
My literacy class was the noisiest and the kids got the most
breaks. The classrooms were located behind the YMCA building and
 Tower in the sky 125

were made of corrugated sheet metal. It was dark inside and the heat
was intolerable. Unless one kept them active, most of the kids dozed
off because of the heat. Most of them were palpably hungry too.
They farted every second, which I often found unbearable.
I would have them go to the toilet and then wash their faces,
anns and legs under the standing water pipe in front of the
classroom. They always looked as if they were just excavated out of
the ground, with their tattered clothes and dirt on their faces, hands
and legs. I would let them prance around for a few minutes and,
once they were refreshed, shepherd them back to the classroom.
Now and then, I made it easy for them, and asked them to tell
stories or what they wanted to do with their lives when they grow
up.
"F assil r:
"Falice!"
"Befekadu?"
"Folice!"
"Weinshet?"
"Teacher!"
"Sintayehu?"
"T eacher! "
The boys wanted to become policemen and the girls,
teachers. The world they lived in was so limited; there was "no
scope for imagination." Only one boy was different, passionately
beating the desk with two pencils. He wanted to be a drummer.
Some of these kids were not lucky enough to start school, as
their parents could not afford to send them to Yeneta's - a priest -
who charged one birr per child per month to teach the Ethiopian
alphabets. But when news reached the neighborhood about a free
Zemecha school, many parents pulled their kids from Yeneta 's and
126 Tower in the sky

brought them to us. However, the Zemecha Tabia could absorb only so
many.
Our priority was to register those children who didn't know
their alphabets. Mothers came and told us how poor they were and
how many children they had and how they could not afford to send
their kids to Yeneta's. The kids lied, pressured by their parents, that
they were not going to Yeneta's and didn't know their alphabets.
We turned a blind eye to some of the children obviously going to
Yeneta's.
A priest came into the Zemecha office one afternoon,
swishing his chira - fly-whisk - his white turban neatly wrapped
around his head. He wore a netela - shawl - over his white long
sleeve shirt and white breeches. I was sitting at the desk in the
comer talking on the phone. I hung up the phone and sprang to my
feet A priest normally held out his cross for people to kiss. This one
did not. It was obvious that he was not on a sacred mission that
afternoon.
"Who is in charge around here?" he asked, looking me up
and down.
"The Azmach is not here. I am the Assistant.. .Azmach .. .How
can I help you? Have a seat," I said, using the polite you and
pointing to a chair.
He continued standing in the middle of the room. Then he
asked, a look of disappointment setting in his eyes, "Can I talk to
someone older?"
"I am the only one around."
"What kind of injustice is being done around here? How
could you throw me out of business? Do you think: God would
appreciate that?" he lamented, laying his chira on his shoulder and
still standing in the middle of the room.
"I am not sure what you are referring to," I pretended,
knowing very well what he was talking about.
 Tower in the sky 127

It was the first time for me to talk to a priest. I was never

fond of them because of my mother's ye nissiha abat - soul father -
who came to our house once a month and blessed our house with
holy water. I always covered my face with my hands or with my
book when he sprinkled me with holy water. I had no qualms about
showing him my annoyance. Embarrassed by my behavior, my
mother would apologetically say "yezare lijoch" - today's young
people. She would tell me I had "the devil" in me after he left.
"You took away all my students and put me out of business.
That is what I am referring to. May I know how you expect me to
feed my children?"
I was stunned.
"We wanted to enroll only those children who were unable
to start school. When we made the screening, we asked the parents
if their children went to schooL We were told none of them did ....
Now classes have already begun. We can't send them away," I said
firmly in spite of my sympathy for him.
He made an inventory of his mishaps swishing his chira
from side to side as if to ward off flies. I did not know what to say.
"Where do I go to complain?" he asked, frustration
obviously mounting in his voice. "But what is the use? No one is
going to listen to me. Things are upside down these days."
"The Azmach is available mornings," I told him. I knew
there was nothing she could do for him. I just wanted him to leave.
His pleading eyes had made me uncomfortable.
"Let God give you what you deserve," I heard him say when
he left. He never came back.
We kept all our students. Our plan was to enroll them, which
we later succeeded at, into public school.
Fassil, one of my students and who was about seven, had a
terrible infection on the inside part of his right elbow. The infection
128 Tower in the sky

was so bad he scratched his arm ferociously. I feared that his arm
would be lopped off in a matter of days. I wanted to help and asked
a health worker at the Ba'ta Clinic to give me hydrogen peroxide,
cotton swabs, gauze and an antibiotic ointment. She looked at me
with a grin on her face and asked me what I would be doing with all
those supplies. When I told her, she said the boy had to go to the
hospital. Hospital was a luxury for the little boy. I begged, pleaded,
and finally won her heart.
Every day, I brought the boy to the standing water pipe and
washed his arm with soap and water, rubbed it with hydrogen
peroxide, spread ointment and swathed it in gauze. My students
stood in a circle, watching with the utter fascination only children
are capable of. I did that for a couple of weeks. At first, the
infection seemed to be unrelenting. Finally, I began to see
improvement. I went back to the health worker and asked for more
supplies. She was not convinced but gave in, anyway.
About a month after I started my medical experiment on
him, I was about to go into the classroom when Fassil ran after me
and cried, "Teacher! Look! Look!" I looked at his arm and tears
pooled in my eyes. The infection was gone! I bent down to kiss him.
Suddenly, something fell at my feet and I looked down to see. It
was a woman with a red headscarf kissing my feet! I was moved. I
helped her up and looked at her questioningly.
"I am Fassil's mother. I don't know how to thank you. My
boy had suffered so much for so long. I feared that he was going to
lose his arm one day. May the Mother of Our Lord reward you for
what you have done for my son? I have no way of rewarding you. I
a.~ utterly poor."

Tears rolled down my cheeks. "It is nothing....1 just..." My

lips quivered.
 Tower in the sky 129

She wished me a thousand blessings and left, wiping her

eyes with her netela. I was humbled by her humility.
Such moments solidified my commitment to the struggle.

On March 3, the Derg proclaimed its land reform program,

changing the age-old social relationships between landlords and
peasants. It had quickly realized that it could stay in power only so
long as it appropriated the language and goals of the progressive
elements of society. A few days after the proclamation, EPLO stated
on its organ, Democraica, that the proclamation was the right step
forward but doubted its practicality.
The land reform, according to Democracia, was supposed to
herald the arrival of a new system. However, the people who should
have reaped the benefits of such a proclamation were not allowed to
get organized under the leadership of the proletariat, and democratic
rights (that would pave the transition to socialism) had not been
guaranteed to the people. By tithe people," Democracia meant
workers, peasants and all progressive elements. To that extent the
proclamation, Democracia maintained, "is like giving the meat but
denying the knife," meaning giving with one hand and taking away
with the other.
Right after the proclamation, Getachew and I met at the
small house. He was wearing his dark red jersey top and jeans. I
settled down on the chair beside him and we talked about the land
proclamation. "The proclamation has implications on the tactics and
strategies we have devised. We have to understand the meaning of
all this and give appropriate leadership to the revolution," he
stressed.
The land question was the most important issue of all.
Revolutionaries of the time had pinned their hopes on rallying the
people around the slogan: "Land to the tiller." It had been the single
130 Tower in the sky

most important slogan in a country where 90% of the population

lived in rural areas and whose lives were tied to the land.
A few days after the land proclamation, a seminar was held
for women; eighteen of them were elected to form a Women's
Coordinating Committee. The purpose of the committee was to
organize a seminar to raise the political consciousness of women of
all walks of life.
The Derg took another brutal measure in the same month.
Meles Tekle, under custody since November, was executed with
Gidey Gebrewahid and Rezene Kidane, They were accused of
throwing bombs at the City Hall and Wabishebele Hotel and of
attempting to set a gas depot ablaze. They were killed along with
feudal lords, who were accused of sabotaging the land reform.
Another wave of shock ripped through the city. I felt bad for a long
time for parting with Meles Tekle the way I did that day in the
parking lot in front of the Arts Building.
Before the end of March, Addis Ababa zemachoch were
called for a meeting at Christmas Hall at the Sidist Kilo campus.
They told us that a seminar would be held for 360 women in April
and that we should select three female participants. Amsale Tamrat,
Azeb and I were selected.
Getachew was excited when I told him about the seminar.
The seminar, he explained softly, would create the perfect
opportunity for me to work with women. Since all kinds of women
would be represented at the seminar, he instructed me to focus
particularly on factory workers. I was to learn about their working
and living conditions and recruit them into study circles.
The Women's Coordinating Committee, which had recently
been formed and most of whose members came from the EPLO and
Meison, organized the historic seminar. The two-week seminar
began on April 17 at the parliament. Participants were recruited
 Tower in the sky 131

from among factory workers, sex workers, housewives, teachers,

businesswomen, civil servants and students. Azeb and I were
thrilled to be part of this historic event. Like every participant, we
got complimentary bus passes and free lunches at the Theological
College cafeteria for the duration of the seminar.
Mengistu Hailemariam gave the opening remarks the day
the seminar started but left as soon as he finished his speech, to the
disappointment of many eager to ask him questions.
I met the female comrade I was assigned to work with at the
seminar. She was one of the organizers. Azeb and I also got to see
some of the notable names in the political circle such as Nigist
Tefera from EPLO and Atnaf Yimam from Meison. The
organizational affiliations of these women were not public
knowledge but we associated them with the organizations because
of their positions on the issues.
Most importantly, Azeb and I were excited to talk to factory
workers. I was not able to recruit anyone and didn't know if Azeb
had succeeded on that front. But we learned so much about their
lives by simply talking to them. We had lunch with them every day
and after lunch, we sat down with them on the lawn in front of the
cafeteria until we got back to the afternoon session. The women
were from factories such as Diabaco Cotton Spinning Company and
Lazaridis Cotton Ginning Company.
The seminar led to the formation of a Women's Association
under the Chairmanship of Nigist Tefera (a Haile Selassie I
University graduate). The Derg later hijacked the Association and
started harassing the former leaders, mainly EPLO members, forcing
individuals like Nigist to go underground.
Our main responsibility, as seminar participants, was to go
back to our respective organizations and groups and educate our
132 Tower in the sky

peers. I made a presentation of whatever I had learnt at my Zemecha

Tabia.
In the same month the seminar was held, my friend Kidist
returned from the Zemecha. She had a job -at the Political Science
Department at the university. Since Azeb and I were staying on
campus, we went to visit her often in her office. She got married
right away and rented a house around Teret Sefer.

One afternoon around the end of spring, I tapped the door of the
little house and pushed it open. Getachew always left the latch off
the door, while waiting for me. I closed the door and pushed the
sliding lock into the latch. I sat down beside him. We chatted for a
while about recent events and the situation in the country in general
and about the book that he had recently given me to read.
"Hiwot, I would like to invite you to see Enat Alem Tenu. I
want us to go see it on Saturday," he said, taking my hand in his.
I was thrilled.
Enat Alem Tenu was an adaptation of Bertolt Brecht's
Mother Courage by the celebrated Ethiopian playwright, poet,
Laureate Tsegaye Gebre-Medhin. I was startled he asked to go to
the Theatre. We've never been to public places. Harar Migib Bet
was the most public place we've been to.
On Saturday, we had lunch at the restaurant, and then
walked together to Haile Selassie I Theatre. At the Theatre, I was
surprised when he held my hand. He had never done that in public.
The only time he did that outside the small house was when we
were in the streets in the dark. We later came back to the restaurant
and talked about the play and other issues until dark.
"How is the assignment with the women coming along?" he
asked after a while.
 Tower in the sky 133

"Oh... I don't know. We haven't been doing anything. We

met a few times but we haven't done anything. I wanted to mention
it to you ..."
"Are you telling me you haven't yet met anybody else?"
I nodded in the negative.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"I was going to one of these days."
He didn't say anything. He sounded disappointed. "Some of
our comrades are only Social Democrats," he said in English after a
brief silence.
I didn't know what to say. I was familiar with the tenn from
my readings and discussions with him about the Russian revolution
but I wasn't quite sure what he was trying to tell me. I didn't ask for
an explanation. I felt it would be prying for me to ask.
I hoped he would go on. Instead he said, an ironic smile
glinting in his gentle eyes, "There is also this subtle division among
comrades...between homegrown revolutionaries and those returned
from abroad. The ones who had come back from abroad look down
upon the homegrown. I don't think that is fruitful. Only our actions
will testify to what kind of revolutionaries we are ...not where we
come from." He was a homegrown revolutionary,
All is not well. I thought.

All was not well in the country either. For the first time in our
history, May Day was celebrated but it was punctuated with
bloodshed. At least 21 workers and students were shot dead at the
parade that day for demanding Provisional Peoples' Government
(PPG) and democratic rights.
After the execution of Meles Tekle and others in March, the
Derg had gone on a killing spree of students, workers, military
officers, and peasants across the country. It claimed that many of
134 Tower in the sky

the executed were former feudal lords engaged in "counter-

revolutionary activities." It accused them of sabotaging the land
reform. Some of them had indeed taken up arms and fled to rural
areas to restore their confiscated land. But the Derg had no qualms
about killing progressive elements along with the so-called counter-
revolutionaries. EPLO and Meison denounced the imprisonment and
killing of progressive forces.
Executions were unabashedly announced on TV and radio.
The dreadful and hateful Yefiyel Wotete was played along when
executions were announced.
rer.A aiaun: An- fflmfl,J-
~ ''',:J 1In- ")lIC "hn~
POfJ"'~fJ f:PA Jlm>f +OlA~"':f
"~!I!r fA~f)w JI!tJP' +rr'~":':

Yefiyel Wotete was a traditional incantation of bravado - a

sort of war cry - until the Derg turned it into a doomsayer. It is the
story of a cocky kid goat that challenged a Leopard to a showdown.
The moral of the story is closer to Aesop's The Donkey, the Rooster
and the Lion fable: false confidence often leads to misfortune. I
always listened to that song with a sense of utter dread. Even if I
had seen him the day before, I always feared that Getachew might
be executed.
Azeb and I had moved in earlier to our previous donn when
we (Addis Ababa zemachoch) found out that we could stay at the
Sidist Kilo campus dormitory and dine at the Science Faculty
cafeteria at Arat Kilo. We went to Emama University's with our
male zemach friends, all of whom were university students, when
we tired of cafeteria food and whenever there was Yejiyel Wotete on TV.
The eatery was in Amist Kilo, right behind Engineering
College near the little house where Getachew and I met. The owner
was nicknamed Emama University, as the overwhelming majority
 Tower in the sky 135

of her customers were university students. She was illiterate but

knew names of university students, turned-lecturer students,
campuses, cafeterias, and buildings. She had several anecdotes
about debtors and campus trips. "Do you know Bekele Asfaw?
Hailu Ashebir? Ketema Ketema Sebsibe? Ketema owed me five
birr.. . Bekele two-fifty and Hailu seven-fifty. They all stopped
coming here. I once went to the Arts Building to look for them. I
bumped into Worku instead , who stopped coming here a long time
ago. He owed me two-fifty," she would spill out her frustration.
My friends and I went to Emma University's, counting every
penny, not only to eat but also to watch TV. Emama was heavy set
and told her endless debtor stories sitting on a chair, her back
against the TV, making it difficult to watch. Filled with dismay, we
often left.
Varsity, which was also in Amist Kilo, was our main hang
out. Sometimes we had no money to buy each of us a drink. Henok
Belew, my high school classmate and friend, was bold enough to
order a bottle of Ambo Wuha - mineral water - and five glasses!
The waiter served us with a suppressed smile . We went to the
Varsity mainly to listen to the Derg 's execution list accompanied by
Yefiyel Wotete.

With Azeb Girma in

front of the prefab
dorms, 1976
136 Tower in the sky

During the Zemecha, 1976

On August 27, 1975, Emperor Haile Selassie died at the age of 83.
Rumor was circulating that Mengistu Hailemariam himself had
killed him. People had anticipated that something might befall the
country when he died. Nothing happened.
His death symbolized the end of an era.

Two days later, EPLO officially declared its existence under

the name of the Ethiopian Peoples' Revolutionary Party (EPRP). Its
program was distributed in several ethnic languages. The need for a
New Democratic Revolution aimed at overthrowing feudalism and
imperialism, a Provisional Peoples' Government, the safeguarding
of democratic rights, redistribution of land, ensuring the right of
nations to self-determination, right up to secession and nation
building, were put forward in the program as the main goals of the
Party. There was jubilation among members and supporters.
 T ower in the sky 137

Soon EPRP called for all zemachoch to evacuate their

Zemecha Tabias. But the Derg extended the Zemecha by one year,
even though many zemachoch were at the time evacuating their
Zemecha Tabias.
On 12 September, Addis Ababa zemachoch were forced out
for the parade commemorating the first anniversary of Abyot Ken -
Revolution Day - the day the Derg usurped power. Thousands of
people, Addis Ababa zemachoch, workers, peasants, civil servants,
teachers, students, representatives of ethnic groups and others from
allover the country, marched toward the former Meskel Square,
christened Abyot Square, the equivalent of the Russian Red Square.
I marched with Ba'ta Mariam zemachoch and Azeb with
Etege Mesk zemachoch. We wore our khaki uniforms, scarves and
hats. The parade moved painfully slowly. There were hundreds of
spectators standing on the pavement marveling at the human ants
surging toward the square.
When we reached the United Nations Economic
Commission for Africa Building, I thought I saw a familiar face
among the crowd. Before even I ascertained who he was, he stepped
out of the crowd and came toward me. He was smiling. That was
when I realized it was Eshetu Chole, the university lecturer who
gave the sensational "Organize! Organize! Organize!" speech at the
USUAA inauguration. He had been arrested in October 1974, along
with a number of teachers accused of demanding a Provisional
Peoples' Government. He was released when amnesty was given to
some prisoners on the occasion of the commemoration of the first
anniversary of Abyot Day. "How are you?" he said, shaking my
hand with a huge smile.
I was stupefied. I never thought he knew me, let alone that
he would recognize me amidst hundreds of zemachoch.
"Congratulations!" I cried.
138 Tower in the sky

"Thank you." He stepped aside when the parade started to

move.
I did not know if Azeb was ahead of me or behind me but I
wanted to shout to her, "I just shook hands with Eshetu Cholet" I
remembered the times Azeb, Kidist, Sara and I whispered "Gash
Eshetu! Gash Eshetu!" walking behind him, nudging, and giggling
like school girls in our university days.
In the same month, Kidist gave birth to a baby girl. We were
all overjoyed, saying, "the first child of the group is born." She quit
her university job and got another orie. Azeb and I stopped going to
the Zemecha Tabia after the Abyot Day parade as more and more
students returned from the rural areas, evacuating their Zemecha
Tabias.

September 1975 was marked by agitation among workers. The

Confederation of Ethiopian Labor Unions (CELU) which had
spearheaded the struggles of workers since its inception in 1963,
made a resolution demanding democratic freedom, Provisional
Peoples' Government and the release of political prisoners. CELU
had thus far perhaps received the harshest blow from the Derg,
including disbandment in May of that year and imprisonment and
execution of its leaders.
At the end of the month, the Derg declared a state of
emergency. Strikes, demonstrations, producing and distributing, and
even the reading of leaflets became illegal. Anyone caught
committing such a "crime" faced severe measures. Even schools
were closed. Another state of emergency, declared in October,
lasted until April 1976.

Just as the Derg was quashing political opposition, my own

underground career was gaining momentum. October of that year
was another milestone in my underground career. Getachew said to
140 Tower in the sky

"Alia? It's Tito ..."

"Selamt"
"The boy-"
My nephew stood there looking puzzled. Then I heard him
say, "Mummy, Hiwot has changed her name to Alia!"
Wey goude - woe to me! "Oh, he is my nephew," I said to
Tito, interrupting him. I knew that I had blundered. I should have
given him my real name once I had given him my phone number. I
wondered ifmy sister and my brother-in-law had heard my nephew.
They were sitting in the living room. The TV was on and they were
chatting. Nobody seemed to have heard my nephew. I was relieved.
Tito told me to come the next day to a place I could not remember. I
hung up the phone and ran into my room, unable to contain my
excitement. I had a feeling that it was going to be different this time,
but I had no idea the gateway to heaven had been thrown wide open
before me.
 Tower in the sky 141

It is not a garment I cast offthis day, but a skin that I tear with my own
hands.
-Kahlil Gibran, The Prophet.

The next morning, unable to even imagine what would await me, I
knocked on the door of the house Tito had told me to come to. My
heart was pounding. When I stepped in the small and semi-dark
room, I saw three young men sitting around a table. They looked
businesslike and serious for their age. I instinctively adopted a
formal demeanor. Tito introduced me to Samuel and the two
brothers, Sirak and Dawit Tefera, as members of the cell. The cell
had just been formed and Tito was the contact person.
He said that Addis Ababa was divided into four Zones and
that Sirak, Dawit, Samuel and I would each be responsible for a
Zone. The three of them have already been assigned Zones. Dawit
was responsible for Zone One (comprising Mercato, Gulele,
Teklehaimanot etc. areas), Sirak for Zone Two (Nifasilk, Kera etc.),
Samuel for Zone Four (Arat Kilo, Sidist Kilo, and Entoto) and I
became responsible for Zone Three (Bole, Casanchis - a corruption
of Case Inces - etc.). Our primary task was to establish committees
in our respective Zones. The committees would be responsible for
organizing and directing the activities of each Zone. Members had
been randomly recruited thus far and had to be shuffled around the
four Zones. We were given codes that would allow us to meet
members, who would populate our Zones.
When I left at the end of the meeting, I was immensely
enthused by the prospect of doing actual work. I had the sense that
this was the beginning of the underground life that I had been
waiting to throw myself into.

The Youth League was fashioned after the Komsomol - the Russian
Communist Youth League. It was a semi-autonomous organization
142 Tower in the sky

and contact with the Party was established at Central Committee

levels. Its organizational structure was parallel to that of the Party.
The supreme body of both organizations was the Congress, even
though it was a much later development for the League.
After the merger with EPLO, Abyot had sent a large
contingent of youth that saturated the League leadership and other
higher committees. Many of its members had filled higher Party
committees as well. Contrary to the belief that EPLO was the largest
group that "swallowed up" other smaller groups, it was Abyot that
had the largest membership, not only compared to EPLO but also to
all the groups that had surfaced during the revolution.
The cell I joined later became the Addis Ababa Youth
League Inter-Zonal Committee, with Tito as secretary. The Inter-
Zonal Committee was below the League Central Committee in the
hierarchy of the organization. It played a major role, providing
leadership to the League in planning, organizing, directing,
coordinating, and facilitating communication among members.
When I had enough people to populate my committee (with
individuals transferred from other Zones), I formed Zone Three
Committee. Semegne Lemma, whom I met through a code, was
one of the committee members. We clicked right away and became
best friends. Like me, she was originally from Harar and lived with
her wealthy uncle, at the time kept in prison by the Derg.
Each Zonal Committee was responsible for forming sub-
Zonal committees below it. Sub-Zones fanned Regional committees
below them and Regions created sub-Regions. Below sub-Regions
were Cells: the very foundation of the organization. One of the most
important tasks of cells was expanding the base of the organization
through recruitment of members. Each cell comprised five
members. The secretary linked the cell to the sub-Regional
Committee above it.
 Tower in the sky 143

Once the framework of the organization has been laid down,

recruitment took place at lightning speed. Cells sprouted in
neighborhoods like hydra tentacles. The League wasted no time in
absorbing in its hierarchy zemachoch back in town with their
enormous Afros, abandoning their Zemecha Tabias.
They were the perfect raw material. Some were already
'handled' in study circles at their respective Zemecha Tabias.
Others were pushed around by the Derg and were highly politicized.
They boasted 'knowledge' of the peasantry and saturated the
League structure in a flash. There was a sense of urgency to speed
up recruitment partly because of the need to beat rival Meison,
which the Ethiopian People Revolutionary Party (EPRP) kept at
ann's length from the youth with wicked labels.
One had to be between the ages of fifteen and twenty-five to
become a Youth League member. An individual was recruited to
study circles and required to study the basic tenets of Marxism-
Leninism. An individual can become a League member after a
three-month probation period. At least two members, who studied in
the study circle with the candidate and are themselves League
members, had to write recommendation letters for membership.
Anyone who had been in the League for ten months could be
recruited to the Party. To become a Party member, committee
members who had worked with the individual and were Party
members had to write a recommendation letter to the IZ (Inter-Zonal
Committee).
Strict discipline was required of us. The League, like the
Party, upheld the principles of democratic centralism. We were
taught that individuals were subordinate to the League, and the
minority to the majority. Members could discuss and debate policies
and issues, but once a majority decision was reached, we were
obliged to uphold it.
144 Tower in the sky

We used code names to minimize danger. Unless we

happened to know one another before, we did not reveal our
identities. Neither were we supposed to know more than what was
necessary. Only the chair of the committee knew the people who
worked in the committee immediately above.
We had to use a secret code when meeting a new member.
The codes were memorized and if they were on paper, the paper
was destroyed immediately. Telephone conversations were brief
and coded. Punctuality was of utmost importance. As far as
appointments were concerned, we were not expected to wait for a
person for more than ten minutes. If appointments failed, they were
reestablished through a 'mechanism' - we met again at a certain
designated place and time. We buried incriminating documents in
our backyards, mattresses and in boxes with false bottoms.
We had to be vigilant at all times. Scanning a cafe before
entering was indispensable. If I went into a cafe and saw a member
whom I knew sitting with anyone, I turned back and went
elsewhere. Mere association with a known League member might
confirm an individual's membership. Paying attention to our
surroundings helped us spot security agents, who went in and out of
cafes in search of prey. If a member was arrested, those who
worked with that individual would leave their homes for a few days,
or at least be cautious, in case the detainee succumbed to
interrogation.
Cafes sprang up like mushrooms in the city, as ifin response
to our need for meeting places. Committees met once or twice a
week under normal circumstances (these regular meetings were held
in houses), but committee chairs met with individual committee
members daily in cafes or in the street, often more than once a day
to ensure League members were kept abreast of events. Situations
changed daily or even hourly. They needed to know pertinent
 Tower in the sky 145

security information such as license plate numbers and makes of

vehicles driven by secret service agents, descriptions of agents,
targeted cafes, and bus stops.
All major instructions flowed from the League leadership
via the IZ to committees all the way down the chain of command.
Instructions were disseminated throughout the organization in a
matter of hours.

The beginning of 1976 saw spurts of League activity, as well as new

and sensational ways of attacking the government. The end of 1975
had been a time of organizing the youth more or less "quietly" in
cells and committees, hosting Zemecha Tabia evacuees and refining
and adapting the organization's structure. The League made
significant strides in recruitment of members during that period.
It was time to go on the offensive.
"There will be a graffiti and banner hoisting day. Banners
with slogans should be hoisted at night on electric poles and walls
should be painted with slogans. It is going to take place city wide
simultaneously. The date will be announced later," Tito told us at
one of the IZ meetings in early 1976. He gave us the slogans to be
painted.
We diffused the instruction throughout the League structure
that very day. Preparation started for the big day with utmost
secrecy. No one, not even the IZ~ knew the day of execution. Every
neighborhood formed its own Intelligence Unit that assessed the
security situation in its locale. Once an intelligence report was
gathered, the IZ passed on a favorable report to the Yebelay Akal -
higher body - that is the League leadership.
Tito revealed to us at a meeting one day that the big day had
arrived. When the meeting ended at five-thirty in the afternoon, we
raced to meet our Zonal Committee members. By eight o'clock, the
146 Tower in the sky

word had crackled throughout the League structure. The next

morning, the entire city was submerged in a sea of red with banners
hoisted everywhere and walls ornamented with slogans.
Addis looked like a carnival city.
The graffiti and banners were as much the delight of
members as they were the Derg's nightmare. Outside the League
structure, neighborhood juveniles littered walls with EPRP slogans,
taking matters into their own hands. As an unintended result, graffiti
became their preferred pastime, often complicating the League's plans.

The Derg declared the mass organization proclamation in April

1976. Kebeles - urban dwellers associations - and Youth and
Women's Associations arose in neighborhoods. Kebeles were
Administrative Zones that divided the city in various units. A
political school was set up and manufactured cadres, dispatching
them across the country to spread the tidings of socialism and
counter EPRP's activities. Wuyiyit Kibebs - discussion forums -
were established in factories, companies, government offices,
hospitals, schools, and the army, People were forced to attend these
forums during working hours.
At some forums, quizzes were even given. An older man I
knew one day asked, "When was that Eleni born?" when preparing
himself for a quiz at the Wuyiyit Kibeb. By Eleni he meant Lenin.
Eleni is a woman's name. I burst out with laughter when Getachew
one day told me that he saw their Kebele chairman going to his
office, a few days after he was elected, holding a page of Selected
Works of Marx and Engles between his thumb and index finger. He
was assuring the government and the cadres that he was indeed
sipping from the fountain of Marxism!
 Tower in the sky 147

The League also created mass organizations, such as the Students

Association, Women's Association, and the Youth Vanguard, that
ran parallel to its structure. Almost every secondary school in Addis
had a Students' Association Committee. Women's Association
Committees were set up both in schools and in Kebeles. The Youth
Vanguard initiated boys and girls, between the ages of eleven and
fourteen, into the world of underground life.
Besides other Associations, the Party later formed what it
called the Democratic Front to expand its networks among teachers,
workers, civil servants and the military. The mass organizations
were as much underground as the Youth League or the Party. They
were the main recruitment fields for the Party and League. Tens of
.new recruits were funneled into the League each day from these
organizations, eventually reaching the point where it became
difficult to coordinate the activities of the manifold cells blossoming
in each Kebele.
The IZ once spent an entire day trying to figure out how to
coordinate the activities of the cells in each Kebele. After an all-day
deliberation, we came up with the idea of Basic Organization. It was
a "Eureka! " moment. The Basic Organization became the
foundation of the entire League structure and of the Party that
coordinated and directed the activities of all cells in each Kebele.

Creation of mass organizations was one of the Derg's strategies to

rally mass support and smother "counter-revolutionary" activities.
Kebeles would later become the most effective machinery of control
and repression. Every Kebele resident was required to have a Kebele
residence identification card, which the Derg used to control the
movement of people. Travelers had also to obtain travel permits
from their Kebeles, another ploy to curb mobility. But Kebele
associations, such as Youth Associations, became recruitment fields
 148 Tower in the sky

for the EPRP and helped it spread its Gospel. They also became the
battlefield between EPRP and Meison for conquering souls and were
instrumental in "exposing" League members to Kebeles, cadres, and
security agents, just as Wuyiyit Kibebs had become responsible for
revealing the political affiliations of participants,

The Derg called for a United Democratic Front at about the time the
mass organization proclamation was made. For EPRP, a Democratic
Front is possible only when it is representative of the proletariat,
peasantry, petty-bourgeoisie, mass organizations, political groups
and National Liberation Fronts. Therefore, EPRP demanded that the
Derg should first guarantee democratic rights before trying to forge
a United Democratic Front.
In early 1976, EPRP and Meison engaged in a sizzling
debate (without claiming authorship) on the government owned
Amharic daily Addis Zemen - New Era - and Goh - Dawn -
magazine over the kind of democracy needed at that particular point
~ in time. The question of political freedom was one of the most
important issues that has long been championed by students and all
progressive forces. The eruption of the revolution made the issue
even more pressing.
Melson advocated for limited democracy, claiming that
unlimited democracy would help reactionary forces tum the tide of
the revolution. For Meison, the people were not yet savvy enough of
the democratic process and needed to be educated, organized and
armed first. Unlimited democracy could only be guaranteed in a
Democratic Republic, according to Meison. It accused EPRP of
opening the door to reactionary forces that would enable them
highjack the revolution by advocating unlimited democracy.
EPRP, in addition to its response to the debate on Addis
Zemen about what kind of democracy was needed and for whom,
 Tower in the sky 149

clarified its position in a late June issue of Democracia. It

proclaimed democracy to be a basic human right, but at the same
time acknowledged that there was no such thing as absolute
democracy. By demanding unlimited democracy, EPRP was asking
the Derg to lift the restrictions that it had imposed upon the rights of
the people. In answering the question of democracy for whom,
EPRP stated that democracy is, in essence, partisan. It has a class
nature. Therefore, it was advocating for the institutionalization of
democracy only for workers, peasants and progressive forces. The
institution of democracy was not the goal, claimed Democracia, but
the establishment of a classless society. There is no democracy in a
classless society. There is not even the need for it.
Political power was one of the burning questions that arose
since the outbreak of the revolution. EPRP was at odds with the
Derg and Meison over what kind of government should be forged at
the time. The Derg had made it clear that it was the "provisional
government." EPRP called for the immediate establishment of a
Provisional Peoples' Government. By that, the Party meant a
popular government representing all anti-feudal and anti-imperialist
forces: political organizations, National Liberation Fronts and mass
organizations. Meison, which was the champion of the slogan
earlier on, gave support to the Derg on the premise that the people
were not yet ready to take power in their hands. A bitter squabble
arose over this between the two organizations.
EPRP ended up on the Derg's blacklist over this.
The other crucial issue the revolution brought to the fore
was the kind of revolution needed and who the friends and foes of
this revolution would be. In Marxist thought, a bourgeois revolution
paves the way for socialism. Even though this revolution ultimately
benefits the bourgeoisie, it helps the proletariat get organized and
prepare itself for a socialist revolution. Freedom of expression,
150 Tower in the sky

institutionalized to facilitate bourgeois competition, helps the

proletariat heighten its consciousness and facilitates the way for the
struggle for socialism. At the end of the day, the idea is for the
proletariat to make a bourgeois revolution in conjunction with the
bourgeoisie, then turn against it, and abolish capitalism through a
socialist revolution.
Both EPRP and Meison advocated a New Democratic
Revolution targeted at feudalism and imperialism, bringing on
board all of the anti-feudal and anti-imperialist forces. According to
EPRP, a New Democratic Revolution can take place only when the
proletariat assumes political power. This revolution would pave the
way for socialism, vanquishing feudalism and imperialism rather
than completely destroying capitalism, maintained EPRP. The goal
was to build communism where there was no class structure.
However, a series of revolutions should take place before the
establishment of communism.
The idea of a New Democratic Revolution was taken from
the Chinese Communist Party leader, Mao Tse Tung. Mao claimed
that a bourgeois revolution could not take place in the so-called
Third World countries because of imperialism. The growth of the
national bourgeoisie in developing nations is stunted by imperialism
and is incapable of carrying out a bourgeois revolution. Therefore,
in semi-feudal and semi-capitalist countries, the New Democratic
Revolution overthrows feudalism and imperialism and prepares the
transition to socialism. This revolution brings on board all anti-
feudal and anti-imperialist forces struggling under the leadership of
the proletariat and the Communist Party.
The difference and antagonism between Meison and EPRP
rose to a crescendo with polemics, innuendos and name calling
becoming the primary means of exchange. Democracia labeled
Meison members petty-bourgeois opportunists or Bandas - after
 Tower in the sky 151

Ethiopians who collaborated with Italians during the five-year

occupation of the country by Fascist Italy - for supporting the Derg.
Meison labeled EPRP Achir guzoyists - for demanding Provisional
Peoples' Government, which it saw as nothing but a shortcut to
power. It also called EPRP members anarchists and Temenja nekash
- literally meaning gun biters - for picking up arms, EPRP had a
military wing - the Ethiopian Peoples' Revolutionary Army (EPRA)
-already operating in the terrain of Assimba in the province of
Tigray.
This squabbling was just a prelude to what was yet to come.

One spring afternoon, I went to see Getachew at the small house.

He was as usual reading a book. He got up to greet me with a broad
smile and we chatted for a few minutes, catching up with what had
happened in our lives since we saw each other last.
He then said casually, "Hiwot---I would like you to develop
a study-material."
"What do I know about developing a study material?" I
murmured. I was bewildered. I thought developing a study material
was beyond my reach.
"You will know. I have brought you a handout. Read it and
then develop a draft and show it to me. I know you can do it. If you
don't try you can never learn the skill. If you really think you can't
do it on your own, ask the comrade to work with you," he insisted,
giving me the handout.
I knew he was referring to Azeb when he said the comrade
in the feminine.
There was silence.
"There is a title for you," he said and scribbled on a piece of
paper - Yesetoch ekulnet: yekeberte setoch kimtlenet - Equality of
women: overindulgence of bourgeois feminists.
152 Tower in the sky

The title scared me even more. I listened with trepidation.

"The idea is to show the limitation of bourgeois feminists'
conception of women's oppression and emancipation. They believe
that the root cause of women's oppression lies in patriarchy. For
Marxists the root cause of women's oppression is economic.
Women's emancipation comes when they, like men, become
owners of the means of production," he explained.
I took the piece of paper, put it in my purse, and leafed
through the handout indifferently. I was not too happy with the
assignment. I have been studying with him for so long and I felt the
assignment would be the acid test of my knowledge. He had always
praised me for my performance and I felt he had placed great
expectations on me.
I worried that I would not measure up.
"I haven't seen you in a dress since that day I saw you on
campus," he sighed, looking down at my brown skirt. He was
alluding to my outrageously short skirt.
"I was so ashamed of myself that day... ," I said absent-
minded.ly, still thinking about the assignment.
"Why?" he asked, putting his hand around my neck.
"Well, because you were not supposed to see me dressed
like that. I was worried you might think I am-"
"Why would I think anything of you? Besides, I didn't even
know what I was doing that day. I was choking with fear not
knowing how to express my feelings to you. It is not that I did not
notice, though. I was actually going to tell you not to wear this skirt
again," he said, touching the hem of my skirt.
"Why not?" I asked, leaning on his shoulder.
"There is a comrade who resembles you. She wears the same
kind of skirt. The security is after her and you might end up in their
hands by mistake."
 Tower in the sky 153

I didn't think there was an immediate threat so I did not say

anything. Instead, I picked up the book sitting on the table that I
wanted to look at ever since I got there. It was covered with a white
paper. I leafed through it and saw the title. It was about Fascism.
I put it back on the table when he said, "Democracia still
claims that Fascism has reigned in the country. If you ask me that is
sheer pedantry. To say that the Derg takes fascistic measures and
Fascism has reigned in the country are not altogether the same. The
way we characterize the Derg and define the situation has
implications on our political and social analysis of the country and
the strategies and tactics we design. If we want to lead the
revolution, we have to have an accurate assessment of the objective
conditions of the country. We have to identify our real enemies and
all anti-feudal and anti-imperialist forces that we can work with.
The way I see it, we are antagonizing everyone."
"Doesn't the leadership know that?" I ventured.
We had never talked about Party leadership and wasn't sure
how he was going to take it. I had no doubt that the Party knew
what it was doing. I believed that whatever was on Democracia was
inerrant.
Getachew did not say anything about the leadership but
talked about Fascism and Bonapartism and the similarities and
differences between the two and between Egypt's Gamal Abdel
Nasser's "brand of socialism" and that of the Derg's. "Nasser's
regime was Bonapartist. To my mind, the Derg is akin to
Bonapartism than to Fascism," he maintained, throwing around
many words and phrases like imperialism, state capitalism, National
Socialism, scientific socialism, militarism, NCOs, Fedayeens...
This was the second time he had raised the issue of Fascism.
But since my mind was on the assignment that day, I did not give it
much of a thought.
154 Tower in the sky

In the evening, we hailed a taxi In front of the German

Cultural Institute. I went in by myself and looked through the back
window as he got into another. I sighed deeply. Why did he have to
burden me with such an assignment? What made him think I can do
it?
The idea of not delivering made me cringe.
I told Azeb when I saw her the next day. "He thinks we can
do it, huh?" she said, laughing. She agreed to work with me, but we
worried we might not do a good job. We divided the parts between
us so that each of us came up with a draft We rummaged through
Kennedy Library looking for books.
The handout that Getachew had given me contained Engles'
Origin of the Family, Private Property and the State, and excerpts
from Betty Freidan's the Feminine Mystique and Germaine Greer's
The Female Eunuch. Azeb and I were put off by Greer's obsession
with the "Temple of Venus." We thought she was frivolous and
obscene. We wanted to tear her apart if only we knew how. After an
incredible toil, we finally came up with a draft and I gave it to
Getachew. He praised our work. He told me it was "beyond" his
expectation. I thought he was humoring us, as I never saw the
material being used in the League or anywhere else.
Long afterward, however, I saw it in a booklet form. I told
Azeb and we remembered the agony we went through putting it
together. It was the first time we had written anything, and the
experience gave us both the opportunity to understand the various
ways of looking at women's oppression and liberation (or
emancipation, in Marxist terms) as well as experience doing
research and of course writing. All that brought my commitment
and dedication to the Party to a higher level.
 Tower in the sky 155

Having plunged myself into the League, I now saw the texture of
my existence changing rapidly and completely. I had peeled off the
layers of my fanner self and felt like a new person was emerging
out of the old skin. Life became imbued with meaning. It seemed
that I was leading a conscious, purpose-driven, value-laden, fuller
and richer existence. ,
A feeling of plenitude ascended in me.
Almost before I knew it, I had been tossed into a solemn but
fascinating and fulfilling adulthood. I took myself seriously and
aligned my behavior to the new person that I had become. I made
significant changes to the way I looked, keeping to bare essentials
and denying myself things that my peers indulged in.
My Afro shrank. I descended from my platform shoes.
Let me quickly say that I did not even try that much to make
changes in the way I looked. Rather, it sprang out of the depths of
my being. Besides, living dangerously was the mode of existence of
the underground life and it commanded that I remained as
inconspicuous as possible. I felt I had found my essence, my soul's
vocation and my true self in the struggle. I came to believe that I
was cut out just for that. It was as if my journey for knowledge and
self-development has been consummated.
My wandering soul finally found an abode.
Indeed, my preoccupation to become a dedicated and single-
minded revolutionary reached the point of obsession. Pursuing my
education suddenly seemed selfish and inconsequential in light of
the plight of the masses that needed to be lifted out of poverty.
What was education when the people needed me? How could I
aspire to have it all when there were millions who had not even a
hope to hold onto?
The struggle was my present, my future, my life.
156 Tower in the sky

It did not matter to the Party whether or not I was educated,

or so I thought. I believed with all my heart that the Party was al1-
inclusive. Anyone committed to the good cause was welcome. The
story of students returning from abroad, abandoning their education,
inspired me.
The revolutionary times had called return to the motherland a
moral duty.
I often thought of !Uy vanity over my physical affliction.
How could I ever have been so conceited? I forgot about the issue
that once upon a time shook me to my core.
I was a great admirer of the French language and culture
when I was in high school. I fell in love with the language in grade
nine. I learned about French culture from our textbook, cours de
Langue et de Civilisation Francaises, and mostly from my readings
of English translations of Maupassant, Zola, Dumas, Flaubert, and
Victor Hugo.
When I was in grade eleven, I almost jumped in excitement
when my French teacher promised to find me a scholarship upon his
return to France. I never heard from him again. He had even had
me apply at the Ecole Normale Superieure, in Addis. I never knew
what happened to my application. I would have given anything to
go to France and pursue my studies. I had often imagined myself
promenading on the Champs-Elysees and reading in the Jardin des
Tuileries.
After I joined the League, I longed to visit Karl Marx's
grave in Highgate Cemetery in London instead of reading in the
Jardin des Tuileries. I found meaning in Gorki and Sholokhov,
when it was revealed to me that my teenage passions - Dickens, the
Brontes and Jane Austin and all those French authors that I adored -
were indeed bourgeois writers, whose literature served the ruling
class. I recognized that I had actually been subscribing all those
 Tower in the sky 157

years to "decadent bourgeois culture," aimed at brainwashing and

duping people through books, film and clothes.
Azeb and I often watched movies at and borrowed books
from the British Council during the Zemecha. We stopped going to
this bourgeois institution as our consciousness increased.
I had never been religious even though I grew up with my
mother, a devout Christian, and knew the scriptures by heart. Even
my sister Negede, almost six years younger than me, knew the
scriptures by heart at a tender age. She went to church, sang in a
choir and fasted in a way that made me look like a heathen. When I
was in Harar, my friend Yodit and I must have owed the Trinity
hundreds of birr from promising a ten-cent incense for every
trifling.
That had been the closest I had come to religion.
Marxism had become my religion. I was baptized by those
poetic words in The Communist Manifesto, the Economic and
Philosophic Manuscripts of 1844, Theses on Feuerbach and the
Holy family. Marxism opened my eyes to the injustice around me
and inspired me to fight and destroy the oppressive and exploitative
system and build a better one on its ashes. I did not look out for my
own salvation but wanted to live and die for the liberation of the
masses.
Marxism brought out the best in me.
It gave me hope. It promised me victory would be ours in
the end, when the proletariat prevails and brings happiness and love
not only to our land but also unto earth. Our great spiritual fathers,
Marx, Engels, Lenin and Mao had assured us that the "Kingdom of
Heaven" was not only within reach but was inevitable.
Many of us did not even know any more than the basics of
the theory. It did not matter. We believed in it and that was what
counted. I did not reject the existence of God outright nor did I find
158 Tower in the sky

it particularly necessary to do so. I was too busy making history to

worry about the existence of God. There was no more need for me
to make promises to the Trinity. I knew I could rely on my own
resources, the guidance of the League and the Party, and faith in the
people.
We were the supreme masters of our destiny.
Marxism was the lens through which I saw the world. What
I saw was a world portioned out into black and white. The people,
whom I passed on the street, rode in a taxi with or saw dining in a
restaurant, were no longer individuals with their own worries,
anxieties, ambitions, and sorrows. They were workers, peasants,
feudal lords, petty-bourgeois, bureaucrats, and lumpen proletariats.
They were either enemies or potential allies. I did not see rich or
poor people any longer. I saw poverty, oppression, and exploitation.
I did not feel compassion toward blind or maimed beggars. I went
past them without giving alms as I used to. Instead, I felt outrage at
the system that rendered them so utterly poor and robbed them of
their dignity.
I walked past them with a renewed sense of commitment to
the struggle.
I often visualized in my mind the "shining city on the hill,"
where justice prevailed. That was the "tower in the sky" we had set
out to bring down to earth. I would have set the foundation for this
"tower" with my blood, flesh and bones if need be. It did not matter
if I did not live to see it. What counted was that I fought the good
fight then and dedicated my life to the cause. I had no doubt in my
mind that we were struggling for a just cause. I believed in my heart
and soul and with every fiber of my being that victory would be
ours in the end.
It was so fulfilling, so promising.
 Tower in the sky 159

I found the thought of struggling alongside a multitude of

comrades inspiring. I was bound with them by the promise of the
future. We were the true sons and daughters of the masses - their
heartbeat.
The feeling was heartwarming,
The very sight of my comrades assured me that I am indeed
part of something bigger and greater than myself. I felt a sense of
solidarity and oneness with them even if I did not know them
personally. The very knowledge that they were out there struggling
alongside me was inspiring. I didn't even know the real names of
many of my comrades I was working closely with nor did I know
what they liked or disliked, whether or not they were happy or sad
on a particular day. But I knew more about who they were and how
they felt than I did about anybody else. I knew them because I knew
the Party. I knew what the Party stood for and where it was taking
us. That was what I knew about my comrades. That knowledge was
what bound me to them. I did not need to know anything else.
To my surprise, it was the friends I grew up with that I had
difficulty understanding any longer. I could feel an abyss separating
us. I felt sorry for them for living in darkness, for not realizing their
true selves by joining the struggle.
It was my comrades for whom my heart leapt every time I
saw them in the streets. They were easily- recognizable. They
dressed the same way and had the same drinks (coffee or tea) or ate
the same thing (bread) in cafes. All I needed was to glance at the
streets and I could easily identify them standing at bus stations
reciting codes or in cafes leaning over tables and speaking in
undertones. They walked briskly with their jackets zipped or
buttoned to hide paper stuffed in their faded jeans. Their eyes darted
around streets and cafes to outwit the enemy and to avoid
undesirable identifications. .Ihey looked serious and purposeful and
160 Tower in the sky

had aged beyond their years, saddled with the heavy responsibility
of transforming a country at such a young age. I came to believe
that comrades were not ordinary human beings; I thought they were
a bit above ordinary mortals and a bit below angels.
They were in a league of their own.
All the sentiment I had for family and friends was channeled
into this new breed of humanity. What bound us with family
members was blood, with friends it was love. What bound us with
comrades was ideology, the revolution, the Party, and the future. It
did not mean we had no sentiments for family and friends. It meant
they came second. The Party came first and comrades embodied the
Party and what it stood for. They were the new family and friends,
with the Party as the Father. They were in fact more than family and
friends. The sense of camaraderie, selflessness, devotion and trust
we had toward one another was unparalleled.
Our relationship touched the sublime.
Powerful slogans stirred my sense of justice. Democracia
became my Bible. It was like manna, whose revolutionary power
was magically transferred to me. It inspired reverence for the Party,
and its magical words helped me rediscover my sense of justice. It
guaranteed me triumph and the undoing of the enemy. It exulted
and glorified the Party and the people and demeaned the adversary.
I hung on every word in it.
The very sight of red banners adorned with our emblem -
the hammer, sickle and the red star - evoked in me a deep sense of
joy and pride. The emblem was the totem that bound me to my
comrades. There was something mystical about it. It roused awe and
inflamed fervor in me. It promised me that the Party was indeed
powerful and invincible.
I felt reassured.
 Tower in the sky 161

Revolutionary songs rekindled in me a sense of sacrifice,

altruism, justice and human dignity. They excited my senses and
warmed my heart. Just as Mao warned, "revolution is not a dinner
party," they cautioned me that the road to freedom is "paved with
thorns." Ewagalehugn Ie mebte inspired me to stand up for our
rights and to partake of the struggle.
}, tp,:JIII)-:r nUD1/-/: I) 1111,:J{lOJ- rs 7C },i)rf;
fr7A ODell ~:r* ,)-o;A )OJ-£1 /h,ero'l:

Le Zemenat, the most famous of all revolutionary songs,

wheedled me to take up arms and vanquish the oppressor.

IJnOlJ£I~· n~4JLJ OfT fl7f: fl1111Jr)· ~h6.

00111:1 I)lJh1/C ab:J:1-1 ATA
,r)lIfFtJlr I/If, ,e lim- ;J-T4:fn/r I/If,

I regarded the Party with profound love and veneration. It

became the embodiment of what I stood for. My comrades and I
spun and wove stories about its power and invincibility.
We idolized and deified it.
I learned to love Getachew passionately as our relationship
grew and deepened. His complexity enthralled me. The man who
was frighteningly disciplined, ascetic and had rigorous standards
was soft-hearted, timid, affectionate and passionately loving, but not
as demonstrative. Romance was considered as a trivial pursuit by
the revolutionary culture of our time. We worked under austere
conditions and what came first was the struggle. We had little time
or interest to indulge in personal flatteries and almost all our time
together was spent on talking about our work.
Even from the beginning, I had seen something in him that I
had not seen in other men. As I got closer to him, I knew I was
destined to be with him. He represented to me not only the Party but
also what was best in it. The love I had for him was meshed with
162 Tower in the sky

the love I had for the Party. It was hardly possible to distinguish
between them. Social justice, oppression and political freedom were
not my idea of conversation before I met him.
He put an edge on my sensibility.
I wanted to emulate him and become a dedicated
revolutionary. I took pains to copy his asceticism. Whatever I did, I
had always had him in the back of my mind. He was both my
inspiration and my conscience. I always felt that I had to say
something intellectual or talk in Marxist terms whenever I was with
him. I wanted to impress him as he did me with words and phrases
like "ideological," "bourgeois conception of," "Chc's focoism," or
"war of attrition." First, I was not as conversant as he was about
those things and second I was afraid he might think I was an echo.
Therefore, I preferred to be myself. As I got to know him better, I
learned that I could talk to him just about anything. I was no longer
mystified and intimidated. We talked and laughed in abandonment
in the little dingy place or at Harar Migib Bet. He laughed like the
innocence of a child, 'often with tears trickling down his cheeks.
Our love was as underground as the organization we
belonged to. It was something special. It seemed profounder, richer,
and grandeur, just as I believed the Party was.
 Tower in the sky 163

...these must be gods who couldfly through the air.

-Ovid, Metamorphoses

May Day 1976 was even bloodier than the previous year's had been.
A number of students, workers, teachers and others were killed and
imprisoned in their hundreds, followed by more executions and
imprisonments in June and July. EPRP repeatedly condemned the
escalating repression and continued to call the Derg Fascist.
It was around the end of May 1976 that Semegne Lemma
and I fancied that we could form a Women's Association in Kebele
18 and later in Kebele 19, which were both in Bole. My sister and
family had by then moved to Bole, and Semegne and I lived close
by. She lived in Kebele 19 and I lived in Kebele 18. Since there
were only a few youth in the area, it was difficult to form a Youth
Association. The middle and upper midd.le-classes populated
Kebeles 18 and 19. The Kebeles were also home to many of the
embassies.
I brought the idea offonning a Women's Association to Tito
and he gave me the go-ahead. When I mentioned it to Getachew, he
said, "You should target peasant women living in the area as welL
Ask the Kebele to invite them to the meeting. That way, you would
have a good turnout of peasant women."
He was referring to the peasant population in the outskirts of
Bole. The. peasants were from the Oromo ethnic group and many of
them came to town every Saturday to sell their produces and craft
such as clay pots and baskets.
Semegne and I went to Kebele 18 one afternoon and
announced our intentions to the chairman. He was far behind many
Kebeles in organizing the youth and women and was happy and
enthusiastic about it. We prepared flyers, which he printed for us,
and disseminated them throughout the Kebele. We asked him to
164 Tower in the sky

mobilize the peasant women in the area. He sent out criers, who
announced the time and date of the meeting.
The open-air meeting was held around the beginning of
June, just across the Kebele office. There was an unexpectedly large
turnout. Semegne and I made speeches over the megaphone
explaining the purpose of the meeting. Two interesting things
happened that day. First, all the middle and upper middle-class
women sat on one side and the peasant women on the other, making
it clear that they had nothing to do with each other. Secondly, their
husbands accompanied the peasant women. The husbands sat on
one side, their sticks planted in the ground, and listened to the
speeches, suspicion written allover their faces. They said they had
come to find out why only their wives had been invited.
A Coordinating Committee was set up. Almost all the
committee members were from the middle and upper-middle
classes. Some of them were my sister Almaz's friends. My sister did
not come to the meeting since she was expecting a child. She gave
birth to her third child a couple of days later.
To our dismay, none of the peasant women was represented
in the committee. Their husbands refused on the grounds that they
could not accompany their wives to meetings. Semegne and I
learned that it was going to be a long journey toward the
emancipation of women.
I gave a written report to the IZ about the meeting. I also
told Getachew what had happened at the meeting. He said it would
take time to educate people and above all organize them. Our focus
should be, he insisted, "on getting access to the peasant women. It
wasn't bad that the men showed up, after all. They would learn
something and when they understand the purpose of the association,
they would allow their wives to come to meetings."
I agreed.
 Tower in the sky 165

"Ajirit, you would be working in the Party Women's Inter-Zonal

Committee," Tito told me around the end of June. "Things are very
slow there. They need someone with organizational experience and
you will be a great asset to the committee."
Ajirit in the feminine and Ajirew in the masculine were
terms of endearment that we used to call one another.
"Is that in addition to what I am doing?" I asked Tito.
"Yes, of course. I know you can handle it."
I met Nigist Tefera a couple of days later. She was wearing a
brown skirt, which was the same as mine. I remembered what
Getachew had told me about a comrade that had a brown skirt. I'm
not sure what Nigist has been told about the skirt but Tito had also
once told me that a Yebelay Akal had told him to warn me not to
wear the brown skirt because they might arrest me mistaking me for
a comrade who resembled me. I would later learn that Yebelay Akal
was Getachew.
I had seen Nigist at the women's seminar held at the
parliament in April of the previous year. She had become chair of
the Women's Organization until the Derg snatched the leadership
from them and gave it to its cadres, driving individuals like her to
the underground. We had also bumped into each other on several
occasions in back alleys and cafes.
I went to the women's IZ meetings a few times. The women
in the committee were older than me and educated in the United
States, or had graduated from Haile Selassie I University. I had met
Nigist individually several times and would rather have met her
alone than go to those meetings. They were nothing like the ones in
the fast-paced League. I was not sure if I could say so to Tito. One
day, I summoned my courage and told him my misgivings about
working in the committee.
166 Tower in the sky

"You know what? I don't think I like working in the

women's IZ. First, I feel that I am not contributing anything.
Second, it is not like working in the League."
"What do you mean?
"I can't see how I can help. It is so different from working in
the League. Things are so slow ...so laid-back."
"So, are you saying you don't want to work there any
longer?"
"It is nowhere near like working in the League."
"Well, if you feel that way, then you should stop going."
I breathed a sigh of relief.

It was around the end of August. Getachew put the book he was
reading face down on the table and rose to greet me cheerfully when
I pushed open the door of the tiny house. I went in, sat beside him
on a chair, and threw a furtive glance at the book sitting on the
table. It was Antonio Gramsci's Prison Notebooks. I picked it up
and leafed through it as I always did when I saw a new book.
Getachew told me about Gramsci and his difference with Marx. He
then picked up a recent copy of Democracia lying on the table.
"Have you seen this? It states that we have to defend the
revolution through both rural and urban armed struggle. As a result,
the whole concept of the Provisional Peoples' Government (PPG)
has changed," he expressed his discontent, waving the leaflet.
"PPG has been a tactical slogan," he went on. "It was meant
to rally all anti-feudal and anti-imperialist forces behind us. When
discussions took place for the merger between Abyot and EPLO, the
agreement has been to treat the PPG as a tactical slogan. The PPG is
something that mayor may not be fanned. Now it has become the
end game. If it becomes the end result, then conducting urban armed
 Tower in the sky 167

struggle could be justified. It is dangerous to even think of

embarking on military activities in the city."
I had never seen him talk so serious. "What is the
justification for conducting urban armed struggle, anyway?" I
asked, taking the leaflet from his hand.
I had noticed for quite a while how feudalism, imperialism
and Fascism were redefined as enemies of the revolution instead of
the long-standing enemies - feudalism and imperialism. Besides,
discussion was taking place in the League about urban armed
struggle and the phrase "defense squad" was swirling around.
"The comrades say that the objective conditions have
changed," Getachew paused, then added. "They say the land
proclamation has complicated our role in rural areas so they claim
that the focus of the struggle has shifted to the cities. Besides, they
say the Derg is killing our members and we have to defend
ourselves. We are not even equipped to carry out military operations
in the cities. What we should be doing is intensifying the rural
armed struggle and weakening the junta's power through attrition.
There are quite a number of strategic areas that have been studied
and are being studied. We should educate and organize the
peasantry and attack the Derg from different directions and force it
to spread itself thin. The Derg does not have any mass base. That is
where our advantage lies. We are the ones who have mass support.
What we need to do in the cities is limit our activities to political
organization and propaganda and prepare the people for the final
struggle. Instead of concentrating our forces in the cities and getting
our members needlessly killed, we should send them to the army."
I loved those discussions. That was my only opportunity to
discuss theoretical issues. I agreed with all what he said but did not
know what to do with that knowledge.
168 Tower in the sky

A "Rectification Movement" took place throughout the League

structure. IZ members were asked to talk to lower committee
members and identify weaknesses and strengths. We learned
criticism and self-criticism. I recall reading Mao's Little Red Book
on Criticism and Self-Criticism. We documented all our strengths
and weaknesses and passed them on to Yebelay Akal. We continued
our work with renewed zeal and determination.

Near the end of the summer, in order to strengthen League and

Party relations and encourage horizontal communication, a Party
Inter-Zonal Committee member joined the League IZ. One day he
told me to work in Party Zone Three Committee. I met with Adane,
whom I knew by sight, with a code. He was my senior at the
university and was later arrested and killed at the checkpoint in
Wukro, in Tigray province,
I went to the Party Zone Three Committee meeting on a
Saturday afternoon. I had great expectations about the Party. If the
League was that efficient and dynamic, I imagined how much more
the Party could be. To my dismay, it was not at all what I expected.
By the time I left I was a bit disappointed, if not disillusioned. The
laid-back attitude in the committee put me off.
Of course, Tito and I usually gossiped about the Party. We
enjoyed our small talk during our individual meetings in cafes. We
talked about the paternalistic attitude of the Party and how things
were much slower there in contrast to the League that glided on the
fast-track. Meetings in the League IZ were full of fire and
enthusiasm. Tito's dynamic personality inspired vigor and ardor. He
brought energy, radiance and the sense of urgency to meetings.
I told him about my new assignment (working in the Party
Zonal Committee), when I saw him next. He was outraged. "This
kind of paternalistic attitude is not acceptable. The IZ would lodge a
 Tower in the sky 169

complaint against the Party. The League IS an autonomous

organization. The party cannot say I want this person or that person.
If it needs individuals, it has to request through the proper channel,
not horizontally. They should give us the criteria and we would
recommend individuals based on the criteria," he fumed.
He raised the issue at the next IZ meeting and I was
criticized for not informing the League IZ before I took orders from
the Party IZ.
I was embarrassed of what I had done.

Each Zone submitted an annual report to the League IZ the first

week of September 1976. Membership had skyrocketed along with
membership contributions. The League started with a few
individuals in October 1975. In one year, membership had risen
well over 9,000 in Addis alone. This did not include those embraced
in study circles, members of the Women's and Students'
Associations and the Youth Vanguard, ready to embark on the boat,
nor the hundreds in prison.
The Party gained organizational momentum in all the major
cities. It made headway in establishing study circles in factories, the
army, offices and school compounds. It taught discipline, hard
work, commitment, self-sacrifice and altruism to a legion of youth
and others. It embraced members of many ethnic groups in its ranks.
Its members and supporters spoke out at Wuyiyit Kibebs, raising
levels of political consciousness among workers, the army, teachers,
and civil servants.
The League sent out a squadron of youth to Kebele Youth
Associations, where they ignited fiery discussions and recruited
members in thousands. It introduced graffiti and banners, which
turned out to be effective tools for conveying messages. Banners
inscribed with slogans were hoisted east and west, north and south,
170 Tower in the sky

with the red star, hammer, and sickle inscribed In the middle.
Democracia added glamour to the magic of banners and littered
walls. The government's socialist propaganda, designed by its
Marxist mentors, paled beside the biting and blistering Democracia.
All this took place in a very inspiring international situation.
1975 was the year FRELIMO declared itself a Marxist-Leninist state
in Mozambique. 1976 was the year South Vietnam was unified with
the North that Cambodia became Democratic Kampuchea, Guinea
Bissau was preparing for parliamentary elections and Communist
and Socialist parties in Western Europe such as Italy, France,
Portugal and Finland, were making strides in parliamentary
elections. It was also the time they sought independence from
Soviet domination.
EPRP reached its zenith of popularity in 1976. Its fame
crossed land and water. Everybody whispered its name. It appeared
mighty and invincible. It soared into the sky. The clouds and the
moon seemed to fall under its dominion.
But, like Icarus, who flew too close to the sun and got the
wings of his chariot burned, it came too close to the "sun" for its
own good, too.
 Tower in the sky 171

We mustn't consider assassination - after all- as the chiefpath to political

truth.
-Andre Malraux, Man's Fate

The day was September 23, 1976, a few days after the League IZ
had received the annual report. A chill went through my bones
when I heard on the radio about the assassination attempt on
Mengistu Hailemariam, the vice-chairman of the Derg. I was
bewildered by the actions of the Party,
I was frightened to go out.
Getachew came to mind. What did he think of the attempt
on the vice-chairman's life? I know he wouldn't approve of it. I
wanted to see him right away. I figured that he might be hiding. A
few days later, three Meison members were gunned down by EPRP
squads followed by the assassination of Fikre Merid, a Central
Committee member of Meison. I had met Fikre once, when I was in
high school. He ~ad just arrived from Paris with a PhD in law and
his family had thrown a welcome party for him at his parents' house
in Dire Dawa. My friends and I were invited through his younger
brother.
The Derg declared war on EPRP officially. Instead of the
usual counter-revolutionaries, CIA agents and anarchists, it called it by
its name for the first time. The pro-EPRP magazine, Goh, was shut
down. The "Revolutionary Platform" on Addis Zemen, which had
become the theoretical battlefield between EPRP and Meison, was
discontinued, followed by arrests and official executions.
The omens warned of a catastrophe.

A few days after EPRP's bullet ripped through Mengistu's pelvis, I

was standing on the steps of the front door of our house, when I saw
a notorious security agent surveilling the neighborhood. He was
standing in the middle of the road adjacent to our house. I ran into
172 Tower in the sky

the living room and opened the tiny window behind my niece's
piano. I struggled to move the heavy instrument so that I could have
a full view of the security agent. I couldn't. I knelt on one knee on
top of it and spotted the agent's car, with the infamous license plate
number, parked at the roadside. I saw the agent going to the late
General Abebe Gemeda's house on the opposite side and talk to the
guard. The General was one of the fifty-two officials of the previous
regime executed by the Derg in November 1974.
There were no EPRP activities in the upscale Kebele. I had
never seen a single leaflet or slogan littered wall in the
neighborhood. I could not sleep that night. Who was he looking for?
What was he talking to the guard about? I thought of the trouble
that might befall my family on my account.
A few days later, my sister Almaz called me to her bedroom.
"I've been trying to figure out what you are up to. You leave home
at six in the morning and come back late at night. I can't say you go
out on a date at six in the morning. You go out rain or shine. Where
are you going? What are you doing? Even your telephone
conversations are brief and business like. What are you up to?" she
asked, looking perturbed.
I stood there silently.
"Well, you can't go out as of tomorrow a "

"I can't." How could I have told her about my underground life?
"What do you mean you can't?" I saw terror inscribed in her
face.
I had always respected her and had never disobeyed her. I
did not want to disobey her now. But what about the struggle?
"Well, you can't leave home without my permission," she
said firmly.
 Tower in the sky 173

I went back to my bedroom in silence. What she did not

understand was. that I was carrying Ethiopia's problems upon my
back as Atlas did "the vaults of the sky."
I did not sleep that night. I knew I had to leave home but
wondered if I would ever have the resolve to do it. I drifted into
sleep around dawn. When I woke up, I reminded myself that I still
had to make up my mind. I got up, bathed, listlessly packed a few
things in a bag, wrote a note to my sister ending it with, "You will
understand someday," put it in an envelope with her name on it,
flung it on the coffee table in the living room and left. I was in tears
when I stepped out of the compound. I loved my niece and nephew
and always enjoyed playing house with them. Then there was the
youngest, only a few months old, and it was even harder to part with him.
I had to leave because my obligation to the revolution was
beyond and above family love.
I didn't know where to go. I took a taxi to the apartment that
my friends from Harar, Martha, Mahlet and Hanna, had rented in
Piassa. I chose to stay there until I found a place to settle. I knew the
League provided "shelter" - a home (a member's or supporter's
house) - for members who needed it. I told Tito that I had left home
when I saw him later that day. He told me that I could work for the
Party "full-time" and that I would be given 70 birr for my upkeep. I
had become a professional revolutionary! I was unable to contain
my excitement.
I flew up to the heavens.

Classes resumed in October for the first time since the Zemecha
started. Sara, Azeb and I re-enrolled. We were given a crash
program to make up for the lost time during the revolutionary
upheavaL I changed my major from European Languages to
Governmental Affairs, a new department merging Political Science
and Public Administration, which meant I still had to be in second
174 Tower in the sky

year. I didn't care. I re-enrolled only as cover for my underground

activities. But I decided to stay in a campus dormitory for as long as
I could. Azeb, Sara and I moved into the new dormitory, built not
too long before. Kidist changed her major to Economics, took
evening classes and worked during the day. Semegne enrolled in the
Faculty of Science at Arat Kilo campus.

Preparation for the declaration of the Youth League was underway,

despite the harsh repression by the Derg after the assassination
attempt on the vice-chairman, I met Tito one day in mid-October,
after an IZ meeting at Noh Cafe on Churchill Road, across Lycee
Gebre Mariam, the French language school.
"Ajirit, you have to go to Alamata to deliver a stencil," he
told me. "It contains the declaration statement of the Youth League.
It should be duplicated and distributed simultaneously everywhere.
They should prepare banners and paint slogans on walls. Everything
should be kept secret until the day of the declaration. They will be
notified of the declaration date later."
I was both thrilled and proud to be entrusted with such an
assignment. It also came at the right time.
I was out of reach of family control.
I got the communication code from him a couple of days
later. I memorized it and discarded the piece of paper. The day
before I left, I committed a cardinal sin of breaching discipline. I
told Azeb about my trip. We talked about our underground activities
in general terms but I had never told her in what capacity I worked
and neither had she. I told her about my trip so that in the event that
something happened to me, she could notify my family.

I took the Mekele bus to Dessie attired in traditional apparel, which

I stole from my cousin Elsa. I wore a headscarf and put on white
 Tower in the sky 175

sneakers and red socks, the only ones I could find. I hid the stencil
in my pantyhose and a few papers in my sneakers.
It was my first time taking that route and I was looking
forward to seeing Dessie, about which I had heard so much from my
mother. She was born there but came to live with her grandfather in
the province of Hararghe, when she was still a young child.
I arrived in Dessie, the capital city of the province of W 0110,
located in north-central part of the country, about 400 kilometers
from Addis. Dessie was a historical place, home to prominent and
historical personalities such as Negus Mikael (a war hero and
member of the nobility) and Lij Eyasu (son of King Mikael and an
uncrowned Emperor). Dessie's Woizero Sihen was also the school
best known ~ for its student militancy. It had produced students of
great revolutionary credentials, such as the famous Berhanemeskel
Redda and Waleligne Mekonen.
I got there around four-thirty in the afternoon and checked in
a hotel not far from the bus station. I took a cold shower from a pail
of water sitting in the toilet. Refreshed, I went out to look for
something to eat. I took a stroll up and down the main street to see
what was available.
I finally came across the Etege Hotel, which looked
impressive by Dessie's standards. I went in, my head covered with a
netela. There were only a few men seated at scattered tables. I could
tell what kind of people they were from the way they were dressed.
They were office workers, teachers, cadres and bus drivers. I was
the only female there. I sat down at a table in the comer and placed
my order - injera with key sega wot - hot and spicy beef sauce. I
went to my hotel as soon as I was done and went to bed.
When I woke up I thought it was still the middle of the night
and was about to go back to sleep, when I thought of consulting my
watch instead. I squinted at it and it read a few minutes to six. I
176 Tower in the sky

jumped out of bed and dashed to the toilet and used water from a
pail to wash myself. I dressed up in a hurry and ran to catch the
Mekele bus. I was a bit late but fortunately, I made it before the bus
left. The buses never left on time.
The bus came to a halt at the Woldya checkpoint, a two-hour
drive from Dessie. Men were asked to get off the bus but women
were allowed to remain on board. While they were searching
luggage, I went with the men to an eatery called Zerai Deres, named
after a folk hero.
Zerai Deres, a man of Eritrean origin who worked as a
translator in Rome, was marching in a parade when Italy was
commemorating its fourth anniversary of the establishment of the
Fascist empire in 1937 and saw the statue of the Lion of Judah,
symbol of the Ethiopian monarchy, pitched as war booty. He was
incensed and is said to have killed five Fascist soldiers with his
sword. He was shot and wounded. He later died in prison.
Zerai Deres was a small place with mud wall and dirt floor
but apparently famous for its dulet - minced lamb, liver and tripe
with butter, salt and hot spice (my favorite dish). One could get
dulet for one birr and yogurt, in a Kibur Zebegna glass - named
after the Imperial Guard for its tallness - for twenty-five cents. One
had the choice of sprinkling berbere or mitmita (hot spices) on the
yogurt I had mine with berbere. The yogurt was thick and smooth,
just the way I liked it.
It was heavenly.
It was only after I drained the last dregs of my yogurt that I
became conscious that what I was actually doing was uncommon.
My attire was meant to make me look like a traditional housewife.
The red socks and white sneakers alone could have betrayed my
efforts, let alone lunch at an eatery unchaperoned.
 Tower in the sky 177

I had always wanted to see Wollo, particularly places like

Bati, Ambassel, Yeju and Wadla ena Delanta, subjects of Wallo
songs. I took it upon myself to see Woldya around. I took the street
that led to the centre of the town and wandered around. Woldya was
bigger than I had imagined. I came back from my touristy excursion
just on time.
Two soldiers searched male passengers boarding the bus and
peered through their ill cards. I was not searched but one of the
soldiers asked me to show him my ID. I fished in my plastic bag and
produced my student ID. He took it from my hand, examined it and
gave it back. I climbed into the bus and went back to my seat. When
I sat down, it struck me that what I had just done could have put me
in trouble. I was in a jeans jacket and aT-shirt in the picture with an
Afro hairdo, which did not altogether go with my new look. The
soldier wasn't smart enough to pick up on that one.
There was no incident and the bus sped to Alamata, a small
town about hundred-twenty kilometers from Dessie. Upon arrival, I
got off the bus and went to the hotel I had been told to check into. It
was only a few yards away from the bus stop. Tito had told me,
"The comrade won't be at the bus stop to fetch you as originally
planned. She teaches in a nearby town and won't be there before
dusk. You have to check into a hotel until she comes to get you."
Two or three sex workers were sitting on the lawn when I
entered the hotel compound. They looked very unfriendly. I ran into
a woman on the veranda and asked her if they had a room available.
She ignored me, went over, and sat with the women. Thrown off by
her rudeness, I went into the bar and found a man who helped me
check in. He gave me the key and told me the room number. I
turned to see the women and saw them laughing. It was obvious that
they were laughing at me. Once in my room, I wanted to rinse my
body off the dust from Woldya and went to the toilet. There was no
178 Tower in the sky

water. I was also dying for a glass of water. The hot and spicy dulet
at Zerai Deres had made me extremely thirsty. I went outside and
asked a woman standing on the veranda if she could please get me
Ambo Wuha and a pail of water. She gave me a "Who do you think
you are?" look and climbed down the stairs to sit on the lawn beside
her colleagues. They all broke into a hysterical laughter.
I couldn't figure out why they were so hostile. I went to the
bar, got myself a bottle of mineral water, and came back to my
room. I told myself I would take a bath at the comrade's house later.
I lay down on the bed and was dozing off when I heard a knock on
the door. For a fraction of a second, I thought the women had come
to tear me apart. I tiptoed to the door in utter dread and looked out
through the crevice. It was a man. Relieved, I flung the door open.
He recited the code I was supposed to exchange with the female
.comrade,
"Se/am! Come on in!" I said, smiling.
"The comrade who was supposed to come and get you
teaches in another town and won't be back until much later. We did
not want you to stay long in the hotel for security reasons. So I
came to fetch you," he told me, coming in.
That was how I met Mekonen Bayisa for the first time.
Mekonen was an EPRP member and had come from Addis to work
in the area. He deposited himself on a chair, we talked for a bit, and
then I grabbed my plastic bag and went out with him. I went to the
bar, settled my bills and returned the key. I glanced fearfully toward
the women when we approached the gate. They did not look as
hostile any more. As soon as we stepped out of the compound, I told
Mekonen what had happened.
"You know why?" he asked.
''No.''
 Tower in the sky 179

"They thought you had come to become just like them. That
is what they do when they first arrive here. I mean they check in as
guests and become hosts after a couple of days. So when they see a
woman checking in by herself, they automatically assume that she
has come to compete with them. Now that you are leaving, they are
happy," he said, smiling broadly.
I burst out laughing. I imagined myself coming from Addis
to dusty and sedate Alamata to become a sex worker!
Mekonen took me to a house, where we spent the afternoon.
He told me about the area and general Party activities. The female
comrade came in the evening and the three of us headed to her
house. There were no streetlights and I couldn't see in the dark. I
stumbled every second in the deep grooves of the dirt road,
interrupting the conversation. Mekonen held my arm and practically
led me through the dark streets of Alamata. At home, the female
comrade served dinner and we talked about the situation in Alamata
and surrounding areas.
After Mekonen left, I wanted to ask the female comrade if I
could take a bath but was afraid it might look bad on me. There was
no electricity and the only lighting in the room came from a
hurricane lantern sitting on a small round table in a comer of the
room. While I was contemplating the best way to ask, she brought
warm water in a plastic bowl and put it under my feet. I thanked her
and started taking my sneakers off. She brought a stool over, and sat
down to wash my feet! I was touched by the extent of her
hospitality. Tears welled up in my eyes. I pulled my feet up and
refused to have her wash them.
I came to learn that the organizational structure in Alamata
was very rudimentary. The Party had many members and supporters
but, being a small town, everybody knew everybody else. That
caused serious security problems. My assignment was to deliver a
180 Tower in the sky

stencil. When I heard about the way things were done, I offered to
share my experience. The female comrade organized a meeting with
all the representatives of the surrounding towns in the following
days. I drew the League structure and explained how it worked, the
way information was relayed, and how secret service surveillance
was maneuvered and "exposure" minimized.
The comrade representing Dessie asked me to come to
Dessie and share my experience with the rest of his committee
members. I went there after a few days' stay in Alamata.
I stayed longer than I had intended to because of my trip to
Dessie. After I came back to Addis, I wrote an eleven-page report
about the organizational limitations in Raya ena Azebo - a region
bordering the provinces of Wallo and Tigray. I also reported the
lack of organizational activities in the so-called "peasant areas." I
wrote that the membership and support to the organization has not
been properly harnessed and the comrades needed experienced
people who could work with them. There was enthusiasm and
commitment, but compared to Addis, the level of organizational
experience left a great deal to be desired. I offered to go back and
work there. Tito told me I was needed in Addis more and somebody
else would be sent instead.
"It is from Hadis" he said when he gave me a piece of
folded paper, a few days after I came back from Alamata. I
suspected it was from Getachew but didn't know who Hadis was. I
opened the folded note. It read, "Tomorrow - six o'clock - Abune
Petros Square - Hadis." I recognized Getachew's handwriting. For
the first time I leamed that his code name was Hadis,
I was happy to hear from him. I have been worrying about
his safety after the assassination attempt on the vice-chairman. I
hadn't heard from him for a while. I had left home and he had no
way of reaching me. I did not know how to contact him either.
 Tower in the sky 181

I met him the next day at the square dedicated to Archbishop Abune
Petros, who was executed for his support to Ethiopian resistance
fighters during the five-year occupation of the country by Fascist
Italy.
We checked in at a hotel. 1 was anxious to hear his thoughts
on the assassination attempt. "I saw the report," he said, hugging me
as soon as we went into our room. "It was excellent. I am so proud
of you, I was really impressed by the maturity of your assessment. You
did an excellent job."
How does he know I wrote it? Being the youngest member
of the Central Committee, he linked the League Central Committee
to the Party Central Committee. That was how he learned about the
report, He teased me for saying Raya ena Zebo in the report. The
correct name was Raya ena Azebo.
The waiter knocked on the door and asked if we would like
to order something.
"Yes, we would like to order supper," said Getachew. He
turned to me and asked me if I wanted to have the usual. I shrugged
my shoulders. He ordered Yebeg tibs and Yedoro firfir.
"You can get us tea after supper," he told the waiter, closing
the door behind him. He came back and sat next to me on the couch.
"I want to go back. 1 really want to. There is so much to do
over there. But I was told I was needed here more. So many people.
can take my place here. I don't understand why I am told I am
needed here more every time I ask to be sent," I complained.
"When was it that you asked to go and you were told you were
needed here more?" He grinned, looking amused by my seriousness.
"Well, for one, now. I also asked more than once to be sent
to Assimba, The comrade and I even hiked to get fit but we were
both told we were needed here more."
The comrade in the feminine was Azeb.
182 Tower in the sky

"If you were told you were needed here more, it was
because you were needed here more," he said, flashing a smile.
Joining EPRA, the army in Assimba - our Sierra Maestra -
was the ultimate dream of every League member. Azeb and I
wanted to go there so badly we went on hiking from time to time.
She had more physical endurance and used to be upset when I
struggled to climb a hill. I would say to her, "If ever I get to go to
Assimba, I will remain in the base area cooking and washing." She
would laugh, covering her mouth with her hand.
I would have loved to continue the discussion about going
back and working in Raya ena Azebo but realized that Getachew
would not say anything more about it. Instead, he looked at me from--
top to bottom with a concerned look.
"Are you okay? You look pale and you seem to have lost
weight"
"I haven't been feeling well since I came back from
Alamata. I have a stomach ache and have lost my appetite."
"You should see a doctor. You might have picked up a
parasite. You don't look well at all."
The waiter brought supper and put it on the table and left. I
got up to wash my hands and came back. He went to wash his hands
too. He had left his glasses and berretta hat on the couch. I had
never seen him in those glasses and the hat since I saw him at the
university campus. When he came back, I asked the question that
had been on my mind for the past few weeks.
"So what do you think of the attempt on Mengistu?"
He sighed heavily. "It was utter insanity. There IS no
explanation for it. An assassination attempt on a leader amounts to a
coup d'etat. Killing individuals amounts to terrorism. A Party such
as ours should not be engaging in things like that. The idea of urban
armed struggle is a departure from the path of the struggle outlined
 Tower in the sky 183

at the beginning. The Party is treading a dangerous avenue. If we

follow that course, the struggle for which so many have already
shed their blood would be derailed. The very existence of the Party
will be imperiled. We have no capability of defending ourselves
from what is to come. Some of us have expressed our opposition to
the assassination attempt as well as the whole idea of urban armed
struggle. "
I loved it when we talked about issues. That was when my
brain cells were awakened. I listened intently.
"What we should be doing instead is strengthening our army
in Assimba, building armies at various strategic areas and
intensifying the rural armed struggle. Rural armed struggle is
protracted. You weaken your enemy through attrition. The
peasantry, in a country such as ours, is not only the backbone of the
army but also of the revolution. We have to educate and organize it
in order to win its support. If we don't do enough in the rural areas
and if we can't organize the peasantry on time, we won't be able to
rally it behind us and we will have nowhere to retreat. We have
recruited thousands, particularly the youth. Where are we going to
hide all those young people when and if the Derg becomes more
repressive?"
We sat quietly for a few minutes. A feeling of uneasiness
enveloped me. "But what was the point of killing Mengistu? If
anything, it would backfire on us, as we are already seeing. Killing
one person wouldn't make a difference," I said.
"All I can say is that it is very shortsighted."
"We had a discussion about urban armed struggle at our last
meeting. There was talk about the need for staging a Paris
Commune type insurrection," I put in eager to prolong the
discussion.
184 Tower in the sky

The Party had recently popularized the Paris Commune. In

the May 1976 issue of the EPRP-dominated Goh magazine, the Paris
Commune was hailed as the first seizure of power by the proletariat
and as having no equal in the history of revolutionary struggles,
setting the tone for urban armed struggle.
"I know it has become fashionable these days to use the
phrase. We don't even have a clear idea of what it is. We are again
being merely pedantic. The Paris Commune was a failure. How can
we model our revolution after something that has failed? The
Commune is useful only as far as it teaches us a lesson. Thousands
of people have died in the insurrection. The idea of insurrection is
adventurous. Do you have any idea how many lives would be lost in
an insurrection? We have neither the military capability nor the
political and organizational readiness to stage an insurrection. We
are underestimating the power of the Derg and overestimating that
of ours. We think the Party is invincible. But that is not the case. I
can tell you that much. All this talk about insurrection is a rush to
seize power at any cost. We are looking for a shortcut to power; the
PPG is our shortcut to power. We want to achieve the PPG through
insurrection even if it means bloodshed."
I wished he could eat and talk but he stopped eating as he
started getting agitated. I wished I had not raised the subject
before supper.
The room had a gloomy cast. A feeling of despondency began to
swell in me.
"It is not that we do not want the PPG. It is more than
welcome if it must come," he went on, "but not through a bloody
insurrection! But our comrades want it at any cost. There is a clique
in the Party dominating the leadership. It is that clique that is
pushing the idea of urban armed struggle. You know, Hiwot, some
 Tower in the sky 185

of our comrades are power-mongers. Power, at any cost, is what

they are after." 1/

I didn't know what to say. I was frightened by the

magnitude of his frustration.
He explained to me briefly, what the Paris Commune was
and reiterated his discussion on the Chinese rural armed struggle. I
very well knew that he was impressed by Mao's idea of "protracted
armed struggle." That was the path the revolution should pursue in
order to guarantee the formation of a Democratic Republic, he
believed.
I noticed that his gentle soul has been stirred. I did not
know how to help. Who are the members ofthe clique?
"One thing I am concerned about is that our members do
not read," he said after a brief silence.
"There isn't enough time to read now. There is so much
organizational work to do," I pointed out.
I loved the theoretical discussions I had had with him. My
love for knowledge was rekindled only when I was with him. That
was what I had been missing after I transferred to the League. But it
had been a while since we had stopped our informal study as both of
us became busy. Security issues were also becoming a problem on
his side. In addition, there was no meeting place like before. So I
did not read any more Marxist Literature. I read only Amharic
translations of Russian books by Pushkin, Gogol, Dostoevsky,
Lennontov, Korolenko, Belyaev, and others to satisfy my hunger
for reading.
"I know we are overwhelmed by fast moving events. I
understand that perfectly. But the dilemma is how we can interpret
situations if we don't have the theoretical clarity. That is one of the
things that bothers me," he said.
186 Tower in the sky

We stopped eating. He was too agitated and I was too ill to

eat. The waiter came and cleared the table. He came back with tea
and put the tea glasses on the table and left. Getachew locked the
door, came back, and sat down beside me.
"I left home. I saw this agent spying on our neighborhood
one day. I did not want to endanger my family," I said to change the
subject.
"That is why I couldn't get a hold of you. I tried to call you
several times. Have you found a shelter?"
"Not yet. I called you too ...at your parents' house."
"Where are you staying?"
"At the university...They said they would find me a shelter
soon. I won't need it right away, anyway. I am staying at the dorm."
"You still wear this skirt, I see," he said, shaking his head
but smiling.
I was happy to see his timid smile on his face again. "This
is the only skirt I've got," I said, holding out the hem. "The security
people think women comrades wear pants and sneakers. They say
that is one way of identifying us. I'm trying to look different. We're
telling our female members not to wear pants all the time."
"I understand. My fear is that they might get the idea that
you are her."
I knew he was again referring to Nigist Tefera, "I know.
You've already told me that."
"I always worry about your safety. You don't seem to care.
You don't pay attention to your surroundings. I'd noticed that when
you walk with me. You've got to be vigilant."
"You seem to be preoccupied and frustrated. I've never seen
you so preoccupied... so disturbed. I don't like to see you this way.
I want you to smile and laugh as you used to. You have to take it
easy," I said, changing the focus from me to him.
 Tower in the sky 187

"I'm sorry to take it out on you. I'm sorry to make you feel
bad. I didn't mean to burden you with all that," he said, smiling
ruefully and tenderly drawing me to him.
I felt emotion rising in me. The tender gaze in his eyes
touched me. We've had discussions like those before. He had before
pointed out what he thought were the mistakes of the Party. But
never had I seen him so engrossed.
"It is not about me. It is about you. But what do you mean
when you say burden me? Am I not part of it? Is it not my life as it is
yours? Is it not what I do? "
"Of course it is your life. It is what you do. That was not
what I meant. If I am frustrated, it is because of what I see around
me. What is at stake is the struggle... the revolution so many are
fighting for ... so many have died for. We have claimed leadership of
the revolution and we have to do it right. I understand there are
vicissitudes. That is a given. But we are responsible for the lives of
people we bring on board. We can't totally avoid imprisonment and
execution but we should do our best to minimize it I would have
loved it if we saw each other more. I feel bad about that too because
I want to see you more and spend more time with you like before.
But you know how it is."
"I have no problem with that. I know why we can't see each
other as we used to. That is not even an issue for me. It is you I am
worried about."
"Don't worry about me. I am already feeling good. I am
already happy."
"Yeah, but tomorrow you will go back to your worries," I said.
We laughed and everything seemed to be like before. We
talked for most of the night and then went to bed.
I couldn't sleep.
188 Tower in the sky

The Party can never be mistaken ... You and I can make a mistake. Not the
Party.
-Arther Koestler, Darkness at Noon.

He was tossing and turning too. I kept thinking. Can the Party make
a mistake? Suddenly, I wanted to tum the light on and ask him that
very question but did not. I had always believed the Party was
infallible. I had refused to believe that it would make a mistake.
What Getachew had been saying all along made sense. I believed it
too. I just could not come to terms with the idea that the Party could
make a mistake. Getachew always gave me a copy of the Red Star,
the internal organ of the Party. It was only later that I learned he
was Secretary of its editorial board, as well as being editor of Abyot.
Red Star raised theoretical and organizational issues, but its
publication had recently been discontinued for reasons I did not know.
I knew that there was no viable training for defense squad
members in the League. I'd believed all along that Party defense
squads had better training and enough ammunition. I could gather
from what Getachew said that the Party was not even equipped to
engage in military activities in the city. Who is doing all that? Who
are the people Getachew called the "clique?" They must be the ones
who are making such blunder, not the Party.
The Party cannot make a mistake.

I lost weight drastically in the following weeks. There was

something in my stomach that gnawed at me. Tito asked me what
was wrong and I told him I had stomach problem. He said it was
"gastritis" and advised me to drink milk. As advised, I bought milk
and went to my friends' apartment in Piassa. It came out even
before I emptied the glass. I did not want to go to the hospital.
Tsege, one of the girls who lived in the Piassa apartment,
told me that she would ask her doctor if she could see me. The
 Tower in the sky 189

doctor agreed to examine me without going through the regular

procedure. She was from Eastern Europe and worked at Menilik II
Hospital. She wanted me to do various tests the day I went to see
her. I was sitting in front of the laboratory waiting for my test results,
when one of the technicians came out with a contorted face.
"It is scary! Where did you get it from?"
"Get what?"
"I can't tell you what it is. But oooooh... it is disgusting!"
"What is it?"
"I am net supposed to say," he said and went back in.
I went back to the wait area and sat on the bench. After a
few minutes, the doctor carne out and signaled for me to come in .
"Have you been outside Addis lately?"
"No," I lied, afraid of giving out information.
"You can't have this here. You must have been traveling
outside Addis. You have Strongyloidiasis. It is a nasty parasite. If it
is not treated, it will obstruct your intestine and kill you. Come, I
will show you something."
She took out a huge medical book and showed me an x-ray
of the parasite in a human intestine. I wanted to throw up. I was
both scared and disgusted at having such an abominable creature in
my gut.
I left the doctor's office, went to the hospital pharmacy to
buy the prescription drug and proceeded to the apartment in Piassa..
I spent the night at Aster's, Martha's older sister and my friend. She
lived on the second-floor of the same building as her sister.
The next morning, I took two tablets as prescribed. About
two hours or so later, I started having severe cramps, nausea and
diarrhea. Fortunately, Aster had taken the day off from work and
was home. The pain got worse and I started sweating profusely. I
became so weak I couldn't even get up and go to the bathroom
190 Tower in the sky

anymore. Aster wanted to take me to the hospital but I refused. In

the afternoon, I was 'so sick I began slipping in and out of
consciousness. Every time I opened my tired eyes, I saw Aster and
her little boy kneeling down and praying in front of an image of the
Virgin Mary. The whole thing seemed to me like a dream or
something that I was watching from a faraway place. Finally, ]
drifted into sleep. In the morning, I was too scared to take the
remaining two tablets. I felt weak and drained. My lips were
chapped. I began to feel better after a couple of days of taking the
rest of the tablets.

It was the morning of November 17. I went to see Semegne at her

donn at the Arat Kilo campus, as I did almost every day whenever I
spent the night at the dorm. Semegne's dorm had two double-decker
beds and she slept on the lower one. The dorm was quiet and I
found her alone lying on her bed and reading. She put the book
away and sat up when she saw me. I sat on the edge of the bed. We
chatted for a few minutes and I said, getting up, "I should get going.
I have a meeting in less than twenty minutes. I will see you
tomorrow." We stood in the middle of the room and a chill ripped
through my spine when I looked at her eyes. Something told me that
I was not going to see her again. I wanted to say something but the
words refused to come out. I stopped at the door and looked at her
one more time. There was something disturbing in her eyes .
I left with an unsettling feeling. I trudged toward the gate
debating with myself. I stopped for a few minutes to make up my
mind. Should I go back and tell her? But what am I going to tell
her? I exited the compound absorbed in deep thought. I flagged a
cab almost reluctantly, when I came out onto the street..
I couldn't shake the premonition from my mind all day..
 Tower in the sky 191

The next day, I leamed from Tito that Semegne has been
arrested the previous day. The news of her arrest had come from
"our people" in the secret service. She went to the airport but turned
around at the checkpoint, when they asked her to open her poncha
Suspicious why she did not want to be searched, the soldiers
stopped her and searched her and found a copy of Democracia in
the pouch,
She must have endured a horrible torture but nobody had
come to look for me, the other Zonal Committee members, or her
sub-Zonal Committee members, proof that she had never given in to
torture. She was an incredibly committed and disciplined person. It
was so hard to go on after she was arrested. She had a great sense of
humor and we laughed all the time at home, in a cafe or in the
street. She had the knack to notice the most unnoticeable but funny
things about people or places and we used to burst out laughing
every second walking in the street. Bole Mini was our hang out
when we didn't have meetings and when we were not at my place or
hers. That was where we laughed the most. We had become
inseparable living close by and even after we moved into the
campus dormitory,
I learned only later that she was executed sometime in
December, about a month after she was arrested. She lost her life
over a copy of Democraciat She was only twenty-two. I was
distressed by her death. I felt bad for a long time for not telling her
about my premonition. I often wondered if I could have prevented
her death by warning her. But I didn't know what to say to her. It
was the first tragedy I had to deal with after joining the Party. It was
the frrst time I had lost such a close friend, as well. Every time I
thought of her, that disturbing look in her eyes kept coming at me,
at times making me blame myself for her death. However, most of
the time, it was her bashful laughter that kept coming back into my
192 Tower in the sky

mind. Only my commitment to the Party helped me cope with such

a tremendous loss.

It was still November. Tito said to me, "Ajirit, you are going to
Mekele. I know you just got back from Alamata but you have to go.
From now on you will be doing liaison work for the Party as well as
for the League. This time, you are going for a League assignment.
You have to deliver documents."
"When am I supposed to leave?"
"In a couple of days ... I will get back to you with the details of
your trip."
The next day he gave me travel allowance and the name and
phone number of the comrade I was supposed to meet. He also gave
me the communication code and papers that I must deliver to the
comrades in Mekele. I didn't know the contents of the papers. I
confided in Azeb again so that she could notify my family in case I
never returned. I rushed to my cousin's to steal back the traditional
dress and netela that I wore during my trip to Alamata. I left before
I got the chance to see Getachew. I didn't know how to reach him.

Mekele is the capital city of the province of Tigray. It is about 770

kilometers or so north of Addis Ababa. Mekele was then a two-day
bus ride from Addis. I made it safely to Dessie the first day. I spent
the night at a hotel with a woman called Abeba, with whom I had
made friends on the bus. Abeba asked me if I wanted to share a
room with her so that we could save money. I agreed, thinking it
might even reinforce my appearance as a regular traveler. We
shared the same bed. She told me that she was a housemaid and was
going to visit her mother in Mekele, whom she had not seen for
years.
The next day, we started our long ride to Mekele. The bus
stopped at the Woldya checkpoint as it did during my trip to
 Tower in the sky 193

Alamata. I asked Abeba to come with me to Zerai Deres to have

du/et and yogurt. She told me that she had age/gil - lunch in a
traditional lunch bag. She had brought dried food. I reluctantly had
the age/gil. My heart was at Zerai Deres. The men came back from
the eateries and boarded the bus after being searched and their IDs
scrutinized. The women were neither searched nor asked for ID. I
did not have an 10. I did not dare bring my student ID with me again.
The bus stopped at Korem, a small town past Alamata. A
few people got off for a drink, food or to relieve themselves. Abeba
and I ran to an eatery to use the toilet and came back. Once we
passed Korem, I was in for a surprise. I marveled at the beauty of
the magnificent and rugged Alamata mountain chains, particularly
Amba Al~ghe. It was breathtaking. I saw a plateau for the first time
in my life.
It was a hair-raising experience riding through those
majestic mountains. Many passengers threw up as the bus curled
and twisted through the steep road. My heart stopped beating when
the bus ascended what seemed to me like the summit of the
mountains. I thought it was soaring into the sky. I covered my face
with my netela to avoid looking below but, unable to resist the
temptation, I would now and then look down and tremble like a leaf
when I saw buses and cars slowly climbing the formidable
mountains. That was when I knew how high we were going. The
seemingly bottomless pit would send a chill up my spine every time
I looked down.
Before I knew it, the bus arrived at Endayesus, which is
about ten kilometers away from Mekele. Endayesus is buttressed by
walls built by the Italians during their invasion of the country in
1895', before they were defeated at the Battle of Adwa in March
1896. The place was intimidating with its fortress and solemnly
standing soldiers. The bus stopped and male passengers were asked
194 Tower in 'the sky

to get off. Two soldiers came in and conducted a massive search,

asking for identification cards and rummaging through luggage.
One of the soldiers asked Abeba to show him her ID.
I had a window seat and pretended to look out, my netela
over my head to hide my face. What is my excuse for not having an
ID? What am I going to say if he asks why I am going to Mekele?
Why hadn 't I thought about it before? How could I be so stupid?
Abeba did not have an ID. The soldier asked her where she was
going and why. She told him she was going to Mekele to visit her
mother. He asked her to get off the bus with her belongings.
I was shocked.
I knew I was next. I was happy when Abeba said she did not
have an ID, which would make the two of us. I could no longer
pretend I was not aware of what was going on beside me. I turned
around and stared into the soldier's eyes. He peered into my eyes. I
kept staring at him. He did the same thing. The unthinkable
happened. He swung around and left without saying anything! I
followed him with my eyes until he got off the bus. I could not
believe it. Once he stepped out, I gave a sigh of relief. Then I
remembered that Abeba was standing outside, surrounded by
soldiers. I waved at her when the bus started moving. I drew my
netela across my face to hide my tears.
The bus arrived at Mekele around four-thirty in the
afternoon. The town was highly militarized with police, army,
Abyot Tebaki - the Revolutionary Guard recently formed by the
Derg under the aegis of Kebeles - and Nebelbal - Blaze - Mengistu
Hailemariam's version of a Red Army that he had recently built. It
was answerable only to him.
I got off the bus and looked for a public phone. I went into a
drugstore and asked the man in a white smock if there was a
payphone nearby. He let me use his telephone. I made the call but
 Tower in the sky 195

there was no response. I thanked the man and went out. I didn't
know where to go. I was hungry and had a terrible headache. I was
dying for a cup of tea and wondered about going into the cafe a few
steps away from the drugstore. I went in even before I paused to
make a conscious decision.
The youngsters in the cafe stared at me curiously when I
went in. I knew I would be completely out of place with my
traditional dress, netela, red headscarf, sneakers, red socks, and a
plastic bag. Adding surprise to their curiosity, I took a seat at a table
near the door and ordered hamburger and tea. I hadn't had such a
delicacy for quite some time and I wasn't going to miss the
opportunity. Besides, I wouldn't have known what to order in a
place like that. The youngsters seemed to be innocuous and were
giggling and flirting.
They reminded me of my own recent past.
When I was done, I went back to the drugstore and asked the
man if I could use his phone again. I dialed the number and the
phone kept ringing but there was no answer. I didn't know what to
do. I went back to the cafe and ordered pineapple juice. I stayed
there for about twenty minutes and went back to the drugstore to try
my luck one more time. Again there was no answer.
I got nervous.
What am I supposed to do if I can't get a hold of the
comrade? What if the line is down? Where is the nearest hotel? I
might need an ill card to check into a hotel. I don't even have one!
"I don't think it is a wise idea to go back and forth. Please
stay here until you find the person you are looking for. Have a seat,"
the man said, pointing to the bench in the comer of the room when I
was about to step out.
I thanked him and sat on the bench. I felt bad about my
behavior. I shouldn't have done that. What if he was a security
196 Tower in the sky

agent? After about fifteen minutes, I told the man I was going to try
one more time. My heart was pounding, holding the telephone
receiver to my ear. It was getting dark and the drugstore would soon
close. I didn't even realize that the call has been answered.
"Hello!"
I couldn't believe my ears. I asked for the comrade. When
he said "speaking," I recited the code.
"Where are you?"
"I am close to the bus station. I'm calling from-"
"You know what? Go up a few meters and you will find a
drugstore. Wait for me there. I will be right there," he said,
interrupting me.
I went back and sat on the bench. A young man came in
after about fifteen minutes. He came straight to me and after we
exchanged greetings, he went over to the man, for all I know was a
pharmacist, and talked to him for a few minutes. I suspected the
mali was one of our own. I thanked him when I went out with the
comrade. The comrade took me to a restaurant. I had already eaten
so I just had a drink. I gave him the documents when we got to his
place. He showed me around Mekele during my stay. Mekele is
small but had its own beauty with houses made of stone. I left after
a few days. I passed the Endayesus checkpoint without any incident.
I was not asked to produce an ID. I was not searched.
We arrived in Maichew after almost a three-hour ride.
Maichew, hilly and green, was the place Ethiopia lost a battle (after
a fierce resistance and victories elsewhere) to the Italians during the
Italo-Ethiopian war in 1936. I was just wondering about the
historical significance of the place when the bus stopped in the
middle of nowhere. An older police officer came in and asked the
men to get off. After all the men disembarked, a tall and burly
Nebelbal came in. The Nebelbal and the police officer searched
 Tower in the sky 197

peoples' belongings. I Was sitting by the window seat; an older

woman was sitting beside me. The Nebelbal asked every woman for
an ID. He was loud, brusque and authoritative. He demanded the
woman beside me to show him hers. I hoped that she did not have
one. I was disheartened when she produced a Kebele ID. I looked
through the window to give the impression that I did not know what
was going on.
It was dangerous to travel to Tigray at the time, even with an
ID. Mekele was the gateway to Assimba, home base to EPRP's
army, and to the mountains where the Tigray Liberation Front
operated. It was also one of the routes to Eritrea, where the Eritrean
Liberation Fronts have been operating.
"Madam, your identification card," I heard the Nebelbal say,
using the polite you.
I turned around and saw him standing beside the woman.
"Your identification card!" he repeated with the familiar you .
"I don't have one."
"How come?"
"Our Kebele has not yet issued the cards to everyone," I said.
Many Kebeles were quite behind on issuing ill cards at the time I
was traveling. I knew that and I thought I might give a shot at that
excuse.
"Get off the bus!"
I leapt to my feet.
"Get your belongings," he commanded in a gruffvoice.
I grabbed my plastic bag and got off the bus. Two young
soldiers were standing outside. I went over and stood beside them. It
will be all right as long as they don't touch my belly or ask me to
remove my sneakers, I said to myself. I had papers stuffed in there.
But I was suspicious of the Nebe/bal, whose eyes had an evil cast.
He was abrasive and had a no-nonsense approach. The older police
198 Tower in the sky

officer and he got off the bus and the Neb elba I ordered the bus
driver to go. The bus did not move. The young Autanti - ticket
collector - stood at the door watching us.
"Sir, I said you could go. There is no reason for you to
wait," the Nebelbal glared at the driver, his rifle slung over his
shoulder.
"Why are you telling him to go, while the girl is still
standing here?" asked the older policeman, tapping his palm with
his policeman's club.
"Close the door!" the Nebelbal snarled at the Autanti.
The Autanti closed the door. But the bus did not move.
"What about the girl? Why are you asking him to go?" The
older policeman asked again.
"She is under arrest," the Nebelbal said, giving me a baleful
glance. "She is traveling without an identification card. Take her
away," he ordered the two young soldiers, pointing his index finger
behind me.
The two young soldiers grabbed both sides of my arms, one
on each side. I managed to turn my head toward the direction the
Nebelbal pointed at and saw a small grey building with a huge sign
that read Marefia Bet - rest area. I knew it was a police station. The
Marefia Bet was the only sign of human existence in the area. The
very sight of it shot an icy wave of terror through my body. I
imagined myself in that dreadful place and what would become of
me. My brain raced with an incredible speed. It was a moment of
decision. I had to do something dramatic to save my life.
"Oh my child! My poor child!" I suddenly screamed at the
top of my voice.
"Poor thing, you have a child?" asked the older policeman
with palpable sympathy.
 Tower in the sky 199

His sympathetic question induced in me a deluge of tears. "I

have a one-year old boy. I left him with my bedridden mother," I
said, wiping my eyes with my netela.
"Where do you live and where are you coming from?"
asked the burly Nebelbal unmoved by my torrent of tears.
"1 live in Addis Ababa and I am coming from Mekele."
"Why did you go to Mekele?"
I knew I had to be convincing and above all, I had to say
something that would probably soften the diehard's heart I said,
sobbing violently, "I went to look for my husband. My husband is a
soldier and had gone to Eritrea to fulfill his gedaj. He left just
before our son was born. He didn't even have the chance to see him.
I haven't had news .from him for over a year. I was told that he was
sent to Mekele for some kind of training so I wanted to come and
look for him. I went to the division he was said to have been staying
at but ...1 was told that he has never been there. Now I know for sure
he is dead ...How is it possible not to hear from him for over a year?
My poor son! Who is going to look after him? My mother is an
invalid."
I believed my own story. I took a risk by saying that my
husband was sent to Mekele for training. I didn't even know if
soldiers were sent to Mekele for training. Besides, I wouldn't have
known what to say if asked which division I've been to. But I hoped
the word gedaj might somehow save the day. Gedaj -obligation to
the motherland in Derg's parlance-was their treasured word and I
hoped to bet my life on it.
"Please let her go. What harm can she possibly do? She is
just a child?" said the policeman to the Nebelbal, genuinely feeling
sorry for me.
200 Tower in the sky

I felt the two young soldiers loosening their grip on my

anns after my stage act. They too seemed touched by my story. The
Nebelbal was the only one who didn't buy it.
"She is lying. I don't believe a word she is saying," he said,
throwing a suspicious look at me.
"What do you mean? Can't you see her tears and her pain?"
"I know her kind. I have worked in Eritrea. I have seen the
bandits. It is women like her that do the most damage. They are the
ones who transport ammunition from one place to the other. I can
tell when I see one. You will see she will spill out everything under
that ...," he said unflinchingly.
"What do you gain by getting this poor child in trouble?
Don't you have a mother? Don't you have a sister? Aren't you born
of a woman? Don't you have any compassion in you? Let me beg
you in the name of the Mother of our God. Let her go. Your soul
will be damned if you arrest this innocent girl," the police officer
pleaded, looking disgusted by the behavior of his colleague.
I was touched by his kindness. I couldn't control my tears
watching him talk. I looked at the Nebelbal. 1 thought I saw a glint
of softening in his eyes! I had to seize the moment... dramatize
even more to win his complete sympathy. "1 know my husband is
killed in a battle. How could I've never heard from him for so long?
He died for his country fulfilling his gedaj. I am being detained in
an unknown place. Who is going to take care of my son when 1 am
in prison or if I die in the wilderness? 1 know my mother does not
have much left to live. The God of my child, please look after my
little boy. That is alII ask of you!" I wailed convulsively.
That did it. "Go! Askonagnet" he shouted, lifting one leg to
kick me on my behind. The Autanti opened the door and I dived
into the bus. He barely missed me. The Autanti closed the door and
the driver speeded up.
 Tower in the sky 201

The people in the bus were glued to the window watching

the drama. When I got inside, some of them congratulated me. I
went back to my seat and I became emotional and cried anew as
people around me showered me with congratulations. I knew that
the bus driver was instrumental as much as the policeman saving
my life. Had he left, I would have ended at that sinister place in that
evil man's hands. That was what I thought of him then.
I wanted to go over and thank the driver but I could not
move. I felt sorry J did not even get the chance to thank the
policeman. I knew many of our comrades came that way and I
wished that the policeman always worked with the Nebelbal who
seemed vicious. How much blood that man must have spilled?
I shuddered by the magnitude of the danger I was in. It was
that glance to the Marefia Bet that prompted my theatrical
performance. It wasn't death alone that spurred me to act but also
the idea of being forcefully violated by the burly Neb elba I. Who
knows how many of them could there be ... ? They would have later
killed me and hurled my corpse over a top of a hill, Nobody would
have ever known what had happened to me.
I was amazed by the survival instinct in all of us when we
are faced with danger. I was never aware I was capable of such a
theatrical performance. I became convinced that there was an actor
in every one of us. Up to that moment, I had danced around danger
but had never really come face to face with it the way I had that
day. I knew there was the possibility of being arrested or even of
dying before I left for Mekele but that was only a fleeting thought
that crossed my mind. I was more into the excitement and adventure
aspect of it and of course undertaking a dangerous task for the sake
of the Party than anything else. This was my first real brush with
death (because there would have been no chance of getting alive out
202 Tower in the sky

of that situation was I apprehended) and I found the whole

experience tempering.
When we arrived in Korell, we stopped for lunch. I had a
terrible headache and my eyes were swollen after the Maichew
incident. I was nauseous as the bus zigzagged through the Alamata
Mountains. Everybody got off except for a few women. I didn't
want to have lunch. I could hardly open my eyes because of the
pounding headache. The bus driver, a tall, heavy-set man, who
seemed to be in his late forties or early fifties came over and asked
me to go have lunch with him.
"By the way, thank you so much. I really appreciate what
you've done for me. I don't feel like eating now. I have a severe
headache. Thanks you anyway," I said.
"Come have lunch with me. I will buy you Aspro and coffee.
You will be fine," he insisted, pulling my hand.
I had little energy to resist. We went to the eatery and he
ordered lunch. I went to wash my hands.
"I didn't want to leave you with those men," he said when I
came back and slumped in a chair. "I said to myself, 'I can't leave
this girl in the middle of nowhere with all these men. I should stay
till the end.' I have daughters your age. I just couldn't do it. That
was why I stayed. I am glad it turned out for the best."
"I can't thank you enough. I would have ended at the police
station were it not for you. The police officer was a kind person too.
It is because of you two that I am here now."
He smiled flirtatiously. "How could I have left a girl like
you in the hands of that beast?"
I pretended I did not get the message. I could hardly eat so I
had tea instead. The driver went out and came back with Aspirin. I
went to the toilet, washed my face, came back, and took the Aspirin.
He ordered another cup of tea for me. After an hour, we went back
 Tower in the sky 203

to the bus. I looked at my face in the tiny mirror I had brought with
me. My eyes were still red and swollen. I leaned on the window and
closed my eyes when the bus started to move.
I woke up at the Woldya checkpoint. I did not get off the
bus. I didn't feel like eating. Even the dulet and yogurt at Zerai
Deres couldn't appeal to me. The driver came and asked me to go
with him and have "konjo dulet," I told him I was not feeling well.
When he left, I covered my face with my netela and leaned back on
the window. I woke up around five in the afternoon in Dessie.
I got off the bus and scurried as fast as my legs could carry
me to avoid the driver. I knew I would have to return in-kind the
favor bestowed upon me in Maichew. I checked into a different
hotel than the one I stayed at with Abeba on my way to Mekele. A
young man, the son of the owner of the hotel, helped me check in. I
went to my room and washed myself with a bucket of water sitting
in the toilet. I felt fresh and the headache had gone away, thanks to
the Aspirin and the long nap I took on the bus. After what I had
been through at Maichew, I needed a bit of relaxation. Besides, I
was hungry.
I went to Etege Hotel throwing my netela over my head. As
soon as I sat on a chair, I saw someone waving at me. It was the
driver! He was sitting with a group of men who appeared to be
drivers. He signaled to me to join them. I politely declined by
shaking my head. The waiter came and took my order. I saw the
driver waving at him. When the waiter came back, he brought all
sorts of food that I had not ordered. I looked up to ask him and saw
the driver coming toward my table. We had dinner together and I
rose up to go. He told me he had reserved a bed for us. I was
gracious about declining the pass. He said he would catch up with
me after having a few laughs with his friends.
How does he know where I am staying?
204 Tower in the sky

I went to bed as soon as I got to my room. I was in a deep

sleep when a loud and incessant knock on the door woke me up. I
looked at my watch and it was past midnight. I tiptoed to the door,
peeped through the crack, and saw the driver. The youngster, who
had helped me check in earlier, came and asked him not to disturb
me. They walked down the hallway; I waited until their footsteps
died down before heading back to bed, thanking the young man all
the while. A few minutes later, I heard a light knock on the door. I
cursed the driver - would he never let up? I tiptoed and looked
through the crack. It was the youngster! I went back to bed, smiling.
The next day, when I got back to Addis, I went straight to
the campus dormitory. Sara, as alert as she always is, said to me,
"Have you been to Wollo? You have a Wollo accent. Where did
you pick it up?" I was amazed.
I was more amazed by what I was about to learn.
 Tower in the sky 205

Citizens, did you want a revolution without a revolution?

-Maximillian Robespierre

It was around the end of November, just after I came back from
Mekele. Dumbstruck, I stared at Tito when he read out from a
"circular." We were at an IZ meeting at one of our meeting places.
rita said the "circular" had come from the Party Central
Committee. It read that Ha and Le - A and B - were expelled from
the Central Committee. We knew who they were. Ha was
Berhanemeskel Redda, and Le Getachew Maru. I could not bring
myself to believe that the Party could do such a thing. I could
faintly hear Tito saying Yebelay Akalat would come to our meeting
to explain the "new policy."
I wanted to see Getachew immediately but I didn't know
how to reach him. What did he think about his expulsion? I thought
of asking Tito after the meeting if he could set up an appointment
for me. Getachew had sent me a note through him. Can I do it? But
Getachew has been drummed out ofthe Central Committee!
I went out to the street, shock, disbelief and confusion
pressing on my shoulders. I was profoundly disturbed not just by
the shocking news but also by the very idea of confusion creeping
into my heart. I had been wondering these past few months if the
Party could ever make a mistake. Now that I heard about the
weeding out, I felt the very fabric of my being shaken.
The Yebelay Aka/at came to our meeting a few days later. I
recognized one of them, Ginnachew Lemma, who had spoken at the
USUAA inauguration at the university. He was wrapped in gabi -
handmade wrap made of cotton - as camouflage. He did most of
the talking. The talk centered on the Party's new policy: the need
for staging urban armed struggle. The justification was that the
"objective conditions" of the country had changed and that the Party
had to defend itself from the repression and executions perpetrated
206 Tower in the sky

on it. They said that Ha and Le were expelled for disciplinary

reasons.
My heart sank. I knew why they were expelled. They were
expelled because they were against the launching of urban guerrilla
warfare. Their words left a bitter taste on my mouth. I had been
almost excited to see them, but when I realized that those were the
very people who had expelled Getachew and Berhanemeskel from
the Central Committee, my excitement vanished.

It was early December. The situation in the city had become tense
following the assassination attempt on Mengistu Hailemariam.
"Ajirit, you are going back to Mekele. You have to explain
the new policy to the Tigray Youth League Zonal Committee.
You're going to meet a comrade tomorrow who is going to tell you
the details of your trip," Tito told me.
"When am I expected to leave?" I asked anxiously.
I was eager to get in touch with Getachew. I didn't want to
leave before seeing him. But I didn't know how to get in touch with
him. I couldn't think of anything else except for seeing him.
Berhanemeskel and he were branded Anjas- factionalists. Things
were getting serious.
"Soon. The committee is meeting in a few days. You have to
be there before the meeting ends. Anyway, the comrade will tell you
the details," Tito said, giving me the communication code.
I met Aklilu Rimy, Secretary-General of the Youth League,
in Mercato the next day. He wore a green blazer with black pants. I
could tell he was Tito's older brother. The resemblance was
striking. Unlike Tito, who was outgoing, Aklilu was soft-spoken,
reserved, and shy. His Afro was not as enormous as his younger
brother's was.
 Tower in the sky 207

We went to a cafe in the Adarash - shopping area - in

Mercato and talked about my trip. We set up an appointment for the
next day and parted. We met at a cafe in Arat Kilo the next
morning. We ordered our drinks and sat quietly. He looked nervous.
I watched him, sipping my tea. He then pushed a piece of folded
paper across the table and stuck it underneath my teacup saucer.
I opened it right away. I knew it was from Getachew. The
note said to meet him the next day at the same time and place. I
beamed with obvious excitement. Aklilu watched me silently.
"Some Yebelay Aka/at may be theoretically advanced, but
they have misguided views on certain issues," he said, looking at
me pointedly and patting his mouth with his hand. "We should be
vigilant and not subscribe to their views."
I held my tongue. I knew he was referring to Getachew. "I
understand I'm going to Mekele, but I don't have a Kebele ill," I
said, changing the subject.
"I will surely get you one, but you've to get a new picture
and give it to me later today. I'm sorry to tell you, though, I won't
be able to get you a real Kebele ID. I can only get you a fake one.
The chair of the Kebele who was supposed to get us a real one is
away."
"That is okay, but I can't travel without an ill to Mekele
again. It is extremely dangerous. I will definitely end up in jail this
time around."
"You will be fine. You look innocent and nobody suspects
you of anything of that kind. Besides, you have done it before," he
said with a shy smile.
We came out of the cafe a little later and I took a cab to
Piassa to have a one-hour picture taken at Photo Berhan. It was late
afternoon when I saw Aklilu again. I gave him the picture.
208 Tower in the sky

I met Getachew the next day at Abuna Petros Square. I couldn't

even wait until we got into our room. "Getachew, I am so sorry! I
couldn't believe it when I heard of your expulsion!" I said with a
crack in my voice.
He smiled and asked me after my health. We crossed the
street and advanced to the hoteL We checked into a room. He tossed
his reading glasses and berretta hat on the couch. I put my small
bag, with change clothes, on the floor and settled on the couch. He
came and sat beside me and put his arm around me.
"I kind of sensed it was coming," he said. "The saddest part
is the reason the comrades gave for our expulsion. Among other
things, they accused us of talking to individuals outside the proper
channel. They want to continue with their dangerous idea of urban
warfare no matter what the consequences. Our members and
supporters are paying for it every day. The Derg executes forty or so
people in retaliation for anyone person we kill. The ratio is forty to
one. Tell me if there is any sense in that ratio."
He was referring to the two recent killings of over fifty of
our members by the Derg in retaliation for the assassination attempt
on the vice-chairman and the killings of Meison members by the
Party. The executions had been announced, accompanied by the
infamous Yejiyel Wotete.
Among the executed was Wubishet Retta. He was our
neighbor in Harar, a brother and uncle of my childhood friends. He
was studying in Russia but had abandoned his studies to join the
EPRP army, I remember the picture he had sent home wearing a
Russian fur hat. This framed picture sat on an armoire in the living
room. I peered at it with admiration every time I went over. At the
time, he was the only one I knew of in Harar who had gone abroad
to study.
 Tower in the sky 209

Getachew went on, "They make it sound as if we've

infringed upon the principle of democratic centralism. The issue is
not disciplinary but political. The comrade and I are expelled
because we are against the idea of urban guerrilla warfare, the
assassination of Mengistu Hailemariam, the use of PPG as a
strategic question and, frankly, a host of other political issues. We
also suggested that we should accept the Derg's recent call for a
United Front. They accused us of reconciliation with a government
whose hands are smeared with blood."
He continued, "Our members need to understand the
implications of the policy of urban armed struggle. I am sure they
will not support it once they know what is at stake. I am positive
that things will be rectified and resolved once a congress is called.
The problem is the comrades don't want to call a meeting of
congress. CC meetings are not held as often as they should be;
decisions are made by the clique and communicated to others by
phone. Their excuse is "security problems." It is all the doing of the
clique."
I didn't know what to say. I was startled that he still called
the people who kicked him out "comrades." I was amazed by his
confidence that the differences would be resolved. Is he naive? I
knew how passionately the Yebelay Akalat defended the idea of
urban guerrilla warfare the day they came to our meeting. "Three
Yebelay Akalat came to our meeting the other day to explain to us
the new policy. They talked about your expulsion too. They were
Ginnachew Lemma, Tselote Hezkias and I think the third one
was ...K.iflu Tefera," I said.
Tselote and Kiflu were Central Committee members.
Ginnatchew was not. He was a member of the Addis Ababa Party
Inter-Zonal Committee. One of his own comrades would later kill
210 Tower in the sky

Tselote in Assimba, and Kiflu Tefera was destined to meet his end
at the hands of the Derg.
"How did you know their names?" Getachew asked taken
aback. I knew I had disregarded discipline.
"I know Ginnachew. I heard him speak at the USUAA
inauguration. As for the other two ...uh ...We are told to explain the
new policy to committee members all the way down the League
structure. I am going to Mekele to do the same," I said, switching
to a different topic.
"When are you leaving?"
"I am not sure yet, but very soon." I told him about my
recent trip to Mekele and the Maichew incident.
"Make sure you get a proper ID. They won't let you get
away with it this time," he warned.
He had changed even more than when I had seen him a few
weeks ago. He looked tired and drawn. "I would like you to meet
the comrade and his wife one of these days. I have told him so
much about you," he said.
I looked at him quizzically. I knew he was referring to
Berhanemeskel Redda but I didn't know Berhanemeskel was
married.
"He is married," he said as ifhe had read my mind.
"I didn't know he was."
"His wife has recently come back from abroad. She is very
nice and interesting. I can see you two becoming good friends. I
want you to meet them both soon."
I was thrilled with the idea of meeting the legendary
Berhanemeskel Redda. He had become a household name for quite
a while. "Wow! It would be nice to meet the comrade."
There was a considerable age difference between
Berhanemeskel and Getachew, the latter being the younger one.
 Tower in the sky 211

However, there was a parallel between what they did and the views
they held about the course of the revolution.
"I know. The comrade is a great and committed
revolutionary. It is sad that things have come to this level in the
Party," Getachew sighed. "By the way, I would like to see you
before you leave. Why don't we meet tomorrow afternoon?"
"Sure, we can do that"
He said he was thinking of inviting the comrade for a
discussion about "the so-called" new Party policy. By the comrade
he meant Azeb. "We are talking to members individually to ignite
discussion in the Party and the League," he said. "We would like
them to see the mistakes of the comrades and where they are taking
us. Particularly, those members in the higher hierarchies could push
through their channels to urge the Central Committee to call a
meeting of congress. Can we meet tomorrow in front of Leul
Mekonen School at six o'clock? We will take a long walk rather
than sit in a cafe. I hope the comrade will make it."
In the morning, we checked out of the hotel and I saw him
off. In the good old days, he was the one who made sure I was in a
taxi safely. Now that security had become tight, I became the one
who remained behind and saw him off I took a taxi to Mercato to
see Aklilu.
I wondered about the fate of our relationship riding in the
cab. Could I continue my cherished relationship with him or would
I be expected or even be forced to sever it? What am I going to do if
they expect me to stop seeing him? Leave him or run away from the
Party? Neither of them were options to me. I was equally
committed to both. On the one hand, I couldn't have left the Party
because the ultimate thing was not my personal life but the struggle.
The Party came first, more than anything else in the world.
212 Tower in the sky

On the other, I couldn't leave Getachew just because he was

expelled from the Party's CC. It was due to his inexhaustible efforts
that I was involved in the Party in the first place. Beyond that, my
life was tied to his with a love as unbreakable as the revolutionary
spirit he had instilled in me. I had not yet seen any changes towards
me among the comrades except for the little "advice" from Aklilu.
Tito had played the mail carrier for Getachew, and later Aklilu had
taken over.
I decided to keep my poise and see what the future held in
store for me.
Democracia would later make a vitriolic attack on Getachew
and Berhanemeskel, calling them "spineless," in one of its issues. It
stated that, "Some individuals, who started the struggle by mistake,
want to shun us when the going gets tough... those who would like a
struggle without sacrifice...they say the Party is responsible for the
death of the youth ...they want to discontinue the struggle..." I was
astounded and appalled by what the Party said in, public about two ----.
of its most famous and senior revolutionaries. None of the Party CC
members, for that matter anyone in the organization, was as famous
as those two.

When I saw him that morning, Aklilu gave me the communication

code, my forged Kebele ill, money for transportation, food and
accommodation, and the name and phone number of the comrade I
was supposed to meet and said, "We called the comrades in Mekele
several times but there was no answer. I think the line is down. Here
is what you can do- Go to the house and knock at the door- I will
give you the direction..."
"What? You want me to ..."
 Tower in the sky 213

"Hold it, hold it ...it is pretty easy," he said in his gentle

voice. "The house is right by the bus stop. All you do is get off the
bus and make a-"
I burst out laughing. "You've got to be kidding. You want
me to go to Mekele and knock on a door?"
"I am telling you it is easy. Besides, we will keep calling
them even after you have left. The committee starts the meeting the
day after tomorrow. You really have to be there," he said, giving me
the direction.
I knew I had to go.

Azeb and I took a cab to Mercato to meet Getachew in the evening.

I used to confide in her everything that Getachew had been telling
me. We wondered what was going on inside the Party, but we didn't
have the courage to say anything. We just wished the problem
would go away and the leadership would come to its senses.
We met Getachew in front of Leul Mekonen School. He was
wearing his yellow-brown corduroy jacket, a book stuck in one of
his pockets. I hadn't seen him in that jacket for a long time. We
meandered around the neighborhood. He talked about the Party's
policies on urban anned struggle and the PPG. He explained again
how the two were interrelated and how it was damaging the Party
and how it would lead to intensified repression, how it had to stop
before our members were wiped out.
Neither Azeb nor I said anything. We were overwhelmed.
When he was done, he told me to stay behind. I told Azeb to meet
me in Piassa in front of Cinema Ethiopia in an hour.
"When are you leaving?" he asked as soon as she left.
"Tomorrow."
"Did you get your ID?" I nodded, saying nothing.
 Tower in the sky 215

Getachew and Berhanemeskel were branded Anjas and were

accused of wanting to collaborate with the Derg. Berhanemeskel, in
particular, was accused of staying at the Derg office when he didn't
. have a proper shelter after being expelled from the CC. Years later, I
leamed that Getachew also didn't have a place to stay, after he was
expelled, and once even had to spend a night in the woods by
himselfl
Finally, I decided to read the note and make up my mind. I
unfolded the paper, a feeling of shame hovering over me. I thought
it would be a breach of discipline on my part even though Getachew
had asked me to read it. The note, in three or four lines, condemned
the killings of Kebele officials and of Meison members, calling it
"utter terrorism" and "senseless killing" and saying "It is costing us
lives." It appealed to the comrades in the army to "pressure the
Party Central Committee into calling a meeting of congress."
I was reading a note written by Berhanemeskel Redda! I
reread it. What was in it was the very reason he and Getachew had
been expelled from the Party Central Committee.
I crumpled the piece of paper and closed my eyes. What
should I do? I wished I had read it when I was still in Addis, or at
least told Azeb about it. The very idea of passing it over would be
incriminating. What is going to happen to me if they find out? I will
become a fugitive! I wished Getachew was there with me. I knew he
would not have left me agonizing. Why didn't I read it when he
asked? Am I going to let him down? I did not know Berhanemeskel
personally and that made it easier for me. But Getachew? I went
back to bed but I couldn't sleep. Finally, I sat up in the bed,
shredded the paper slowly and burst into tears.
I felt I had betrayed Getachew.
In the morning, I took the bus to Mekele. When we arrived
at Woldya, the bus stopped for a routine search. The men were
216 Tower in the sky

asked to get off but not the women. I ran to Zerai Deres to have the
usual dulet and yogurt, while the soldiers were ransacking our
luggage. When I came back, men were being shaken down and
asked for ID. I was neither searched nor required to produce an ID.
We resumed our trip and braved the Alamata Mountains. I
shuddered when I saw the Marefia Bet at Maichew. I was terrified
of seeing the burly Nebelbal. What kind ofexcuse am I going to give
this time? He would have definitely arrested me. Thankfully, the
bus did not stop at Maichew but at Endayesus , which was as
intimidating.as ever. I arrived in Mekele safely. When I got off the
bus, I went into a store and made several calls to the comrades'
house. There was no answer. I went to the house as per the
direction. I knocked on a red gate and a man came out to open it for
me. I recited the code.
What a relief I was at the right place.
I met the Tigray Zonal Committee members (who came
from various districts) the next morning and spent all day with
them. It was tough for me to explain to the group, after all the
discussions I had had with Getachew, about the new policy. What
can I do? I rationalized to myself. As long as I am in the Party, I
have to do what the Party asks. I focused my talk more on
organizational issues and shared the League experience. I enjoyed
my stay with them. I returned to Addis a few days later without any
incident.
I met Aklilu in the afternoon, the day after I got back. I
asked him if he could arrange an appointment for me with
Getachew. He said he would try. I met Azeb in the evening, and she
told me that she had a discussion with Aklilu about the new Party
policy after I left. He told her that she should not ''waver.'' He had
no idea she had met Getachew. We agreed not to say anything to
anyone.
 Tower in the sky 217

Azeb had never told me that she knew Aklilu, and neither
had I told her. I saw them together only once, at Lidet Biskut Bet, a
cafe and pastry shop at Teklehaimanot Square south of Mercato. I
came in with one of my Zonal Committee members. They left right
after we came in. That was how I learned the two knew each other.
Aklilu and I met most of the time in a cafe near Tourist
Hotel in Arat Kilo. I once saw Azeb with a man in Arat Kilo when
Aklilu and I were heading to the cafe. Azeb and I pretended we
didn't know each other. That was how Azeb found out I knew
Aklilu. Since that day, Azeb and I referred to him as "the comrade -
Arat Kilo."
A couple of days after I asked Aklilu to arrange the
appointment with Getachew, he gave me a piece of folded paper. I
slipped it into my breast pocket of my jacket without reading it.
"It might be a good idea to distance ourselves from some
Yebelay Akalat," he said. "They maybe theoretically advanced but
they have misguided ideas on certain issues. We have to be careful
and not subscribe to their views." He repeated word for word what
he had already told me.
I pretended not to understand. I could see that they were not
going to stop me from seeing Getachew. I had never done or said
anything to implicate myself, except for seeing him. I took out the
note the minute I parted with Aklilu. It read, "Same place, same
time, tomorrow-Hadis."

I met Getachew in front of the hotel the next day. He looked

relieved to see me. There was always danger in traveling to Tigray
at the time, more than any other place in the country. Lately, it had
become even more dangerous for anyone who was not Tigrigna
speaking. I knew he worried. I worried about him too, particularly
since his expulsion, which I still had difficulty understanding.
218 Tower in the sky

After we had finished dinner and the waiter had cleared the
table, Getachew ordered tea. I thought it was time to break the news
about the note.
"After reading it at a hotel in Dessie, I tore up the note you
gave me," I said, speaking slowly. I felt ashamed of my cowardice.
"It is okay. Don't worry about it. I told you to read it and
make up your mind. In any case, I admire your honesty. You could
have told me you had delivered it. I would have no way of finding
out. tt He took my hand in his. I wasn't sure if he had noticed the
troubled expression on my face. He said, "Thanks anyway." His
voice was full of warmth and affection.
I felt a lump in my throat.
The agony I was going through was obvious, even if I didn't
say it in so many words. I had felt bad when I tore up the note. I felt
wretched when I heard him utter those words and even show
tenderness. I would have almost preferred to be criticized for my
failure to understand the implications of my actions for the
revolution. I would have felt I deserved it.
But it wasn't like him to say that to me. Instead, he thanked
me for my honesty. Honest! I would have preferred to die right
there than lie to him. The guilt and shame that had gnawed at my
heart since I destroyed that note troubled me even more. His words
could not console me.
I knew I would live with the guilt and shame for as long as I lived.
What triggered shame and guilt was the idea of letting down
Getachew. What was happening in the Party or the course of the
revolution was too abstract to me at that point. I did not tell
Getachew the agony I went through before I tore up the paper or
when I made the confession.
It wouldn't have made a difference. I had let him down. I
was ashamed of what I did and did not have the words to express
 Tower in the sky 219

my feelings. Even, "I am sorry" or "I feel bad about what I did,"
would not have been good enough.
I chose to remain silent.
"As I told you, I want you to meet the comrade and his wife.
I want you to meet them one of these days. Actually, we will go see
them next time we meet. I really want you to meet him. I have told
him so much about you. I know you can become good friends with
his wife," he said as if to make me feel at ease.
I still wanted to meet Berhanemeskel, but my burning desire
was tempered by what I had done to his note.
220 Tower in the sky

The revolution needs the enemy.

-Fidel Castro

The day was February 4, 1977. I had spent the night at the
apartment in Piassa. Martha and I were waiting for a taxi at the bus
stop opposite Cinema Ethiopia, when we saw our friend Sewasew
Tewahade coming toward us.
"What are you doing here? Why don't you leave?"
Sewasew said, waving his hand.
It was around eight-thirty in the morning. Martha was going
to work and I to my underground enterprise. "Weare waiting for a
taxi. What are you doing here? Where is your car?"
"My car is in the garage. Why don't you leave? It is over."
"What are you talking about? What is over?"
"It is over! Your people, Lieutenant Alemayehu Haile and
Captain Moges W oldemikael, have been killed. The coup has
failed! What are you waiting for? You should go. Aleke dekeke!"
The expression aleke dekeke - "It is now allover" - alluded
to the 1960 announcement on the radio of the coup d' etat by
Ginname Neway and his brother Brigadier-General Mengistu
Neway. Alem Mezgebe, the then radio host, had proclaimed that the
era of oppression, aleke dekeke - "It is now allover," - when the
Neway brothers detained ministers and took key government posts
under their control. Alem Mezgebe then fled into exile when
Emperor Haile Selassie restored his government. The Emperor had
been on a state visit in Brazil when the coup took place.
Before we even got the chance to absorb what Sewasew had
just told us, our hilarious friend yelled, "Taxi!" When the taxi came
to a halt, he shouted at the top of his voice, "Hulet sew Assimba!"
It was rush hour, and there were dozens of people at the
bus station waiting for taxis and buses. To shout out at the top of
one's voice to a cabbie to take two people to Assimba was utter
 Tower in the sky 221

madness. Many people by then knew the rugged terrain was the
home base of EPRP's army in the province ofTigray.
"You want us get killed?" We screamed at him and
jumped into the taxi. It was only after the taxi drove away that we
started laughing. He was still standing and cackling at the bus stop
when the taxi disappeared into the traffic.
That was how I learned about the carnage at the Derg
offices.
February 4, 1977 was the day the Ethiopian revolution took
a frightening turn to- darkness and savagery. Mengistu Hailemariam
became the undisputed, supreme dictator. He massacred seven
members of the Derg, who had been called to a fake meeting at the
Derg offices. It was the talk of the town that EPRP had supporters in
the Derg. At least one of the two officers Sewasew mentioned was
an EPRP member (That was why our friend Sewasew told Martha
and me to leave town. It was rumored that EPRP had a hand in the
alleged coup).
At the time, there was a move within the Derg to restructure
and redistribute power that had accumulated in Mengistu's hands.
Members of the Derg, including Mengistu, had approved the
restructuring plan. But, apparently, Mengistu was not all that keen
to let all that power slip through his fingers. He was plotting to get
those people out of the way.
So he accused the slaughtered Derg members of plotting a
coup d' etat to oust him, and eliminated all those whose political
views he believed to be "left" or "liberal." One of the slain was
Brigadier-General Teferi Benti, the incumbent chair of the Derg and
said to be "liberal" and "conciliatory." He had, a few days before,
called for a "national reconciliation," and a "United Front," in the
speech he gave at Abyot Square. The Derg approved his speech, but
Mengistu considered it "too conciliatory" to the EPRP. EPRP had
222 Tower in the sky

immediately rejected the call for a United Front on the grounds that
democratic rights had first to be guaranteed.
"Our enemies were planning to eat us for lunch, but we had
them for breakfast," Mengistu bragged at a speech he had made at
Revolution Square two days later. "The revolution has moved from
the defensive to the offensive," he trumpeted. He shouted slogans
until the veins on his neck bulged. "Revolutionary Ethiopia or
death! We will fight until the last man and the last rifle," he roared.
At the time, he was at war with the EPRP, the Eritrean
Liberation Fronts in the North and the invading Somali army in the
East. Once he had cleaned up the Derg, he fancied that it was time
to stamp out the rest of the pests. That was the only way he could
consolidate his power. When America had earlier turned down his
plea for help he had turned to Russia, and was not disappointed.
Russia then promptly brought its people and ammunition and
paraded them at his doorstep. He not only had immeasurable power
in his hands but also all the armaments he needed to wipe out an
entire people.
Fidel Castro's advice to create a one-Party system was taken
to heart by the new dictator. He had recently fanned the Abyotawi
Seded - Revolutionary Flame - a Party with people who had proven
their loyalty to him. His monster army, Nebelba1, along with the
Abyot Tebaki - Revolutionary Guard - would playa pivotal role in
his "White terror will be vanquished by Red terror" campaign.
Mengistu would later in 1977 give a crushing blow to the
invading Somali army, but his bitter and bloody war with the
Eritrean Liberation Fronts would continue. He galvanized all his
armed forces, and when that did not seem enough, boys as young as
fourteen were rounded up and taken from their homes and streets
and sent to war, with little or no training. Most of them perished in
the wilderness.
 Tower in the sky 223

As for EPRP, the piecemeal executions were not enough. For

them, he had another plan in mind.

On March 23 1977, the Derg launched a five-day assessa - search.

The Derg, Meison, Nebelbal, Abyot Tebaki, the army, and Marxist
groups such as Woz League (Workers League) and Malerid
(Amharic acronym for Marxist-Leninist Revolutionary Organization)
all rolled their sleeves up to crack down on the common enemy -
the EPRP. All the Marxist groups around the Derg, including
Meison, had their own differences and were in one another's way,
but what united them was hatred of the EPRP.
Driving became illegal within certain hours. House-to-house
searches were conducted to disarm the EPRP. Many of its members
and supporters were thrown into jailor killed. Anyone suspected of
"counter-revolutionary" activity was subject to netsa ermeja and
could be shot by cadres and Abyot Tebakis with impunity.
Meison and EPRP had reached the zenith of their enmity.
Even siblings sought one another out for blood. Meison, formerly
on the receiving end ofEPRP bullets, struck with a vindictive zeal.
The table was turned.
Warnings about the assessa had been disseminated in the
League structure to make the necessary precautions. The Youth
League had boldly declared its existence at the beginning of the
month under the name The Ethiopian Revolutionary Youth League,
amid an impending clampdown. Gutsy League members had braved
Abyot Tebakis bullets and distributed pamphlets, littered walls and
J

hoisted banners.
I spent the assessa eve at the apartment in Piassa. I went to
bed wondering where I would be spending the next five days. An
idea popped into my head in the middle of the night. I woke up
around five in the morning, took a shower and left. I took a cab to
224 Tower in the sky

the TB Centre. I figured a hospital would be the last place to be

searched, and I could at least spend the first day of the assessa
there.
Sitting on a bench in the garden, I was amazed by the sheer
number of people suffering from TB. Some of them were wasted
away to skin and bones. I looked back at the days I suffered, which
I had been so ill at ease talking about. I had completely forgotten about
it. I had stopped taking medication long ago. "There are people amidst
you who pretend to be patients," I suddenly heard a male voice say
over the megaphone, around eleven 0' clock. Oh my God! I thought I
was being smart hiding in a hospital!
The voice continued, "They pretend to help the sick or show
them around. They target especially the very ill and those from the
countryside. Beware of them. They are pickpockets!"
I laughed, relieved.
I didn't have breakfast when I left the apartment. I was
hungry but didn't feel like buying food in the compound. The whole
place had an ominous feel to it. I wanted to leave but I had to
choose between the sinister place and jail and or even death. I
emerged out of my sanctuary around quarter to six in the evening.
The street was deserted and there was no taxi in sight. After what
seemed like time without end, I found one that would take me only
as far as Mercato.
The usually bustling place was abandoned. Only a handful
of people scurried around mostly Nebelbal and soldiers. I tried to
talk the cabbie into taking me to Piassa, offering to pay more. I got
off when he told me one more time he couldn't. While I was
scampering and anxiously looking for a taxi, I saw two soldiers
advancing toward me. I accelerated my speed. They caught up and I
heard one of them shout, "Halt!"
 Tower in the sky 225

I couldn't pretend I didn't hear him, so I stopped. "Your

identification card," one of them said with an air of authority. I
didn't want to bring my fake Kebele ill with me, for all practical
purposes. I fished my university ill out of my purse and handed it to
him with a confidence that matched his authoritative posture.
The card had been washed several times, stuck in my
pocket; it had lost its color and had become cloth like. "You can
go!" he said, after glancing at it for less than a second. I knew he
did not read English, or he would have known it had expired at the
end' of December of the previous year. I flagged a taxi and hopped
in. I had a good laugh with my friends at the Piassa apartment when
I told them where I had spent the day.
On the second day of the assessa, I heard that EPRP Central
Committee and Politburo member Tesfaye Debessay had jumped to
his death from Kidane Beyene Building, near Ambassador Theatre,
when Kebele and Meison cadres were chasing him. A wave of
shock went through the Party and the League. Tesfaye was chair of
the Central Committee and had a PhD in philosophy. He had come
back from Europe to take part in the revolution.
That day, I went to my cousin Elsa's around six-thirty in the
evening. Days before the assessa, I went there to spend the night
and saw a man sitting on the couch in the living room. I
instinctively knew he was a Party member. I made friends with him
easily and since that day, I sat and talked with him whenever I went
there. I became his window to the outside world. At times, people
came, took him in a car, and brought him back. He had an infirmity
of his legs and I often wondered how he could survive those
horrible conditions with those legs. I wondered ifhe was still there.
He was not. My cousin sadly told me that he had been killed
trying to leave town before the assessa. I learned that his name was
Nega Ayele. He was a university lecturer in the department of
226 Tower in the sky

Political Science and had co-authored a book, Class and Revolution

in Ethiopia, with John Markakis (the Greek Social Scientist and
lecturer at Haile Selassie I University). Nega was killed with Dr.
William Hestings Morton, an Englishman (a lecturer at Addis
Ababa University - Haile Selassie University was renamed Addis
Ababa University by the Derg), who drove the car. They had been
heading to Langano (a resort area) to avoid the search but returned
when they heard shots. They were gunned down by Abyot Tebakis.
Party Central Committee member Yohannes Berhane and Party
member Melaku Markos were also killed that day.
The death of Nega and other Party members sent a chill up
my spine,
Ououta, Yowling, Committees were set up by the Youth
League to counter the assessa. Mothers yowled at night and
youngsters broke streetlights when soldiers and Abyot Tebakis
raided homes. This was meant to mobilize the people against the
assessa and imprisonment and killing of the young by the Derg, The
yowling led to chaos and the arrest and murder of even more
youngsters. The assessa ended after the detention of hundreds and
the death of many EPRP members.
Jail was coming closer to home. I hadn't seen Sara since she
came out of prison. She had been arrested at a meeting held at the
university campus over a month ago. She was released but was
arrested again, this time for a longer period. She, Azeb, and I used
to go to Kidist's house for lunch, when running EPRP errands. We
used to say, "Let's go to Kidist's and have a balanced diet." It had
been a while since we had done that and since I saw Sara
and Kidist.

It was sometime in April. I had an appointment with Tito in front of

the old Post Office Building. I saw him coming up, smiling, and
 Tower in the sky 227

then turning away and going back down the street. I was wondering
why he did that when someone tugged at my elbow. I turned and
saw Getachew!
I was happy to see him.
He had his usual camouflage: the white rimmed reading
glasses and the berretta hat. He wore khaki pants, a light blue shirt
and a khaki jacket. There was a taxi beside him and the door was
open. He spoke rapidly with a buoyant smile, "Tomorrow, same
place, same time" and dived into the taxi.
I had desperately wanted to hear from him. All I could think
of at the time was him. Is he still alive? How is he faring? Did he
get a proper shelter? Did he leave town? The questions replayed in
my head. Every time I heard somebody had died or had been
arrested, I quivered, fearing that it might be him.
I had recently heard that Berhanemeskel had gone to
Merhabete (in Shoal and had started an armed struggle. Has
Getachew gone with him? Anjas are the recent enemies the Party
has created. The war with them was escalating by the day. I have
had this ominous feeling that the Party might hurt Getachew. It was
quite a relief for me to see him again.
I strode down the street to meet Tito who was waiting for
me at the far end of the building. It was then that I understood why
Tito turned back. It was because he saw Getachew. I met Getachew
the next day in front of the hotel. I knew he was not going to tell me
how and where he had spent the assessa.
But his childhood friend, Mesfin, told me years later, "Let
me tell you about Getachew. After he was expelled from the Central
Committee and during the first assessa, they sent me to ask him if
he wanted a shelter... that is, to go out of town. He said to me, 'I
cannot ask kids to throw Molotov cocktails and yowl at night and
then go out of town to save my skin. I am not going anywhere. '"
228 Tower in the sky

Getachew did not ask anyone to throw Molotov cocktails but

took responsibility for others. That was exactly who he was.
"I was worried about you too. Where were you during the
assessa]" he asked when 1 told him that 1 was worried about him.
He burst out laughing when he learned where I had spent the first
day.
"Getachew... 1 heard the comrade is gone," I said, referring
to Berhanemeskel. We were sitting side by side on the couch.
"I am sure you did."
"Why didn't you go?"
"Why would I go?"
"I don't know. I thought...actually...1 was hoping you
would."
"1 have a lot of respect and admiration for the comrade. We
share common ideas. But I see no reason for me to go."
"Why don't you join him? Maybe it is better if you did?" I
suggested.
"Why? Why do you say that?"
"I don't know. I fear for you. I have a feeling they might
hurt you," I told him, sighing heavily.
The waiter knocked at the door and Getachew leapt to his
feet and opened it for him. The waiter brought our order and placed
it on the table and left. Getachew locked the door, whirled around
and said, "What did you say again?" He stood there a look of
surprise written allover his face.
"I said... I fear for you. They might hurt you. You know."
He came back and sat beside me. "We have disagreements,
without a doubt, but that doesn't mean they are going to hurt me.
Why would they want to hurt me, anyway? We are comrades!
Comrades who fought side by side for so long."
 Tower in the sky 229

I was looking for a way to explain my forebodings to him

but I felt embarrassed at what I said, but at the same time, I had this
vehement urge to say it. I forewarned, "I don't know why, but I
have this unsettling feeling ...a feeling ...that they might hurt you."
"No, they are not going to hurt me. Don't worry. Right now,
two or three individuals are leading the Party- They are the ones
who make decisions. Yes, ... it has come to that. Some of our
comrades in 'the CC have gone abroad, some have died, some have
gone to Assimba and the comrade and I have been expelled. There
is no Party leadership to speak of."
I looked at how he had changed. He looked even more
haggard. A feeling of frustration and fear started to compound in me.
He went on, "If you ask me, it is the League that is
providing leadership to the revolution at this point. The comrades
still don't want to call a meeting of congress. That would have been
the solution. I believe we will be able to iron out our differences
once a congress is called. As it is, the comrades are not willing to do
anything to rectify the situation. They still want to hang onto their
ideas, even if they are witnessing the death of hundreds of our
members. I just wonder how much blood will be spilled before they
realize their mistakes."
I wondered if he was naive or if I was being bad for
suspecting my comrades of foul play. He still believed that they would
"iron out" their differences, after all what he had been through. His
positive attitude amazed me. I was moved by his innocence. Tears
came to my eyes. Why does he have to suffer so much? All the
things he and Berhanemeskel said have come true. The Party is
witnessing the death and imprisonment of so many members and
supporters. What went wrong in the Party? It was so beautiful.
Things have become murky and ugly. I want him to go! How am I
 230 Tower in the sky

going to make him change his mind? Why should I think badly of
the comrades when he trusts them?
The thoughts reeled through my head.
"How long is this going to go on? You have changed so
much. You have lost so much weight. How long are they going to
keep you this way?" I managed to say without looking at him. My
eyes were wet and I didn't want him to see them. He stared at me,
smiling, and I had to look up. He must have seen my tears. He took
my hand in his. "It is okay. We will work it out," he tried to put my
mind to rest. But I was not to be easily reassured. We stayed up late
talking and went to bed.
When I woke up in the morning, I felt this strong urge to
insist that he should go. I felt I had to press him to go away. I
wanted to tell him what I had heard at a recent lZ meeting, but was
. afraid. How can I say something like that about the Party? Am I
going to defile its name? Should I tell him or shouldn't 1? Would it
have any bearing on his decision? "The other day, I heard one of
the comrades say at an IZ meeting that this comrade interrogated a
former comrade, accused of being Anja. He said he put out
cigarettes on him, when interrogating him. I was staggered when I
heard that. I never thought we could do something like that. That is
why I insist you should go."
I got it off my chest.
"I don't want you to worry too much about me," he said,
without batting an eye. He was tying his shoelaces. He stood up and
put his jacket on. "I will be fine," he tried to reassure me again and
went on, "I actually worry about you. Often, I shudder when I think
about what might happen to you."
What did he think about the cigarette burning? Why doesn't
he listen? Why doesn't he see the danger? How can he not sense it
even when I can? There was no ground for my fear. It was just a
 Tower in the sky 231

hunch based on what was going on against Anjas. If Anjas were

blamed for everything that had gone awry in the Party, and if
Getachew and Berhanemeskel were the "creators" of Anja, then it
was easy to glean for me that the Party may turn against them with
vengeance. I understood that much. How could he not? "I would
have loved if you had gone somewhere," I entreated him. When he
did not respond, I asked, "How are we going to meet again,
anyway?"
"We will find a way. I haven't been .able to send you a note
through the comrades. I will try to find a way. The problem is
neither of us has a permanent address. Don't worry. We will find a
way," he said, smiling and patting on my shoulder.
We came out to the street and flagged a taxi. He looked me
in the eye and told me he would send me a note soon and got into
the taxi. My heart gave a violent leap. Something told me I was not
going to see him ever. I wanted to shout and beg him to go
somewhere but the words would not come out. Something choked
my throat. The taxi moved and he waved at me smiling.
I did not wave back.
I stood there watching the taxi disappear through the mist of
the tears in my eyes. I thought about my premonition. Why am I
feeling this way? It is the same feeling that I had when I saw my
brother and Semegne for the very last time! Tears trickled down my
cheeks.
The first time I had a premonition was when I went with my
mother to visit a relative at the hospital when I was in grade seven.
The lady was sitting up in the bed when my mother and I got up to
go. I gave the woman one more look before we left and my heart
jumped. Something told me she was going to die. She died the next day.
Before Getachew's expulsion from the Party CC, I always
worried that the Derg might kill him. After his expulsion, I feared
232 Tower in the sky

that the Party would somehow hurt him. I kept thinking about what
might happen to him. In as much as I didn't want the Party to hurt
him, the very idea of having these thoughts about the Party troubled
me. Why am I having these thoughts about the Party that I love so
much? I kept asking myself
Three days later, I was sitting in the cafe in Arat Kilo with
Aklilu, He looked me 'straight in the eye. He had a strange
countenance. I could hear my heart suddenly start pounding. I
sensed there was something wrong. "Do you know where the
comrade is?" he asked after a brief silence. I knew he was referring
to Getachew.
"I don't know. You know I have no access to him. Wasn't it
through you he sent me notes? I met him three days ago and that
was by sheer accident. Why did you ask, anyway? Is he okay?" I
could feel alarm choking my throat.
"Well.. .they couldn't find him. They don't know where he
is. I thought you might know."
My heart quivered at the idea the Party might do something
grave to him. I could barely talk. "I don't," I managed to say.
"In case you find out, let me know," he said.
I said nothing further. My tea was sitting on the table
untouched. I could not stay a minute longer after that. I hailed a taxi
and went to the apartment in Piassa, tears in my eyes. I didn't know
what to think. I hoped he had joined Berhanemeskel in Merhabete. I
felt relief surging in me. Maybe that is where he is! I knew better
than that. He had told me only three days ago that he wouldn't go.
I

Besides, if he thought of doing anything like that, I was confident

that he would take me with him. Where is he? Is he in jail? He was
in danger on both sides: the Derg and the Party. I was paralyzed
with fear. I didn't know what to think nor who to ask about him or
 Tower in the sky 233

where to look for him. I met Azeb the next day. She looked
distraught.
"I saw the comradelast night at the Casanchis house. The
Party has detained him. A squad is guarding him. I was stunned to
see him," she said tears in her eyes.
I couldn't believe my ears. "Getachew is detained by the
Party? A squad is guarding him? What are you talking about?"
"Yes, I saw him. I saw him last night," she said.
I told her what Aklilu had said to me the day before. "I knew
they would do something like that to him. I asked him to go away,
to go somewhere... But he didn't listen," I poured out my
frustration.
"What is going on in the Party? Where is this leading us?"
We said to each other.
We were perplexed.

"I heard that the comrade has been detained by the Party," I told
Aklilu when I saw him later that day.
"I know."
"You know? Why did you ask me his whereabouts if you
knew?"
"I wanted to find out if you knew."
My heart sank. Aklilu is a nice person. We had become
friends ever since we have met. We met twice a day but we had
nothing in particular to do. I often wondered why we met. It was
futile to try to get anything out of him about Getachew.
Azeb told me the next time I saw her that Getachew was no
longer at the Casanchis house. That was bad news. She could have
brought news about him had he stayed there. I was desperate. I
wondered what his fate might be. I often imagined him guarded by a
squad. I missed the good-natured man whom I'd been with for four
234 Tower in the sky

and a half years. I had never been with a man that long. I had
become attached to him. Above all, I looked up to him. These and
other thoughts racked my brain and tormented my soul but I
continued my work with the same zeal and commitment.

It was just before the second round of assessa started. Azeb and I
went to the 'Piassa apartment one day around mid-morning. It was
safer to be there than being in a cafe. Besides, we didn't have
money so we had to stay there until our appointments. We found
Askale Nega chatting with Meskerem. The latter was one of my
friends at the Piassa apartment. Asku was our year-mate at the
university and an EPRP member. I had never worked with her but
had crossed paths with her in back alleys. I was toying with the
zipper on my pouch, while we talked. The pouch fell and hundreds
of safety pins were scattered on the parquet floor. Azeb, Asku and I
scrambled to pick them up. We used the pins to hoist banners. I was
supposed to pass them on to my Zonal Committee members later
that day.
Meskerem was bewildered. We had laughed when she said
earlier, "Look at Hiwot's cheeks. They are red like ripe tomatoes.
She roams every day in the sun. She is always on the road.
Asku... you will end up having red cheeks like her... you
too ...Azeb."
She was concerned about us getting red cheeks. We worried
about ducking bullets.
"What are you going to do with all those safety pins?" She
was puzzled.
I did not respond.
I was the only one amongst my Harar friends who was
politically involved. Even though I had never said I was an EPRP
member, they knew I was somehow involved with the organization.
 Tower in the sky 235

Martha always begged me to tell her "frankly" if I was a member. I

always told her that I was a "sympathizer."
My friends made all kinds of jokes about my EPRP
activities and me. Meskerem always said to me, "When EPRP
seizes power; I know they are going to make you Minister of
Foreign Affairs. I beg you to give me a passport so that I can leave
the country."
One day, Kidan, one of my friends living in the apartment,
was sitting by the window in the living room. I was chatting with
the other girls, when she asked me to come over. I ran to look out
the window. "Look...Look," she cried. "That is what you want to
tum us into." I looked down the street and roared with laughter. I
saw four Chinese men sauntering in their drab blue uniform
Another day, Martha said, "1 hate revolution. I want to leave this
country and go to another one."
I asked, "What if a revolution breaks out there?"
"Then I will go elsewhere. By the time I go around the
world, I will get old and die." That was how much my friends at the
Piassa apartment hated revolution and politics.

After the safety pin incident, Azeb and I left the apartment and
agreed to meet in the evening. She went her way and I went mine.
Azeb said she might find us a shelter for that night. She showed up
late, as usual. We met in Mercato in front of Leul Mekonen School.
We had had nothing to .eat all day and we were desperately hungry.
We had only one birr and thirty-five cents between us. We could
only spend thirty-five cents on food. The rest was our taxi fare for
the next day.
236 Tower in the sky

The 75 birr stipend given to us by the League was spent

mainly on transportation, as we constantly moved from one
appointment to another. The substantial financial support for me
came from my cousin Elsa. I couldn't ask my sister Almaz for
money after I ran away from home, even though she always asked
after me and even came to the Piassa apartment to look for me.
Martha also gave me money for transportation now and then.. As for
a place to stay, the door to the apartment was always open for me .
There was also my cousin ever ready to have me over. She was
married by then and had a baby.
Azeb said she knew a place where we could buy food for
thirty-five cents. We zigzagged through the area looking for it. We
couldn't find it. I became nervous. It was dark and the area was one
of the breeding grounds of League members and the epicenter of
EPRP activities. The Abyot Tebakis and the secret service closely
watched it. I didn't know my way around Mercato. Almost all of
my appointments were in the Adarash and they were with Aklilu.
"You don't know where the place is?" I asked impatiently.
"Of course I do. It is just I couldn't find it. It's got to be
around here ... somewhere."
"I hope you won't get us arrested or shot. I think we should
go to the shelter. Forget about the thirty-five cent meal," I lamented.
After so many twists and turns, we finally found it. The
place was a dungeon. The people sitting in the semi-dark room were
apparently beggars or homeless people. We ordered injera with split
pea sauce. The food did not look palatable. It was even worse when
I tasted it. The portion was so small it did not even appease our
ferocious hunger. Afterwards, we went to the shelter, which was not
very far from the eatery.. It was a tiny, dimly lit room with a dirt
floor. There was nothing but a dirty straw mattress and a wooden
box . The place was swarming with bugs.
 Tower in the sky 237

"1 am not going to sleep on the mattress," I declared.

"Where are you going to sleep, then?" Azeb asked, looking
at me in surprise.
"On the box," I said, pointing to the wooden box.
"When are you going to learn?"
"Learn what? First, the mattress is too small. Second, it is
obviously infested with bugs. They are already allover my legs," I
said, bending down to scratch my leg.
Azeb lay down on the mattress, giving me her back and
putting her sweater on her shoulder. "Let's sleep now. I have to get
up early in the morning," she said after a pause.
"1 have a meeting at seven o'clock. I have to get up early to
go to the apartment, shower and change."
"I have a meeting too. I have to go first to Casanchis to take
a shower."
I used my purse for a pillow and lay down on the box. Azeb
was tossing, turning and scratching. I felt sorry for her. I too was
scratching. The wooden box was not comfortable either but I
couldn't say anything after refusing to sleep on the mattress. The
cracks on the door and the mud wall were so large one could see
what was going on outside. I stared through a crease, unable to
sleep. Just when I was about to drift off, I felt a violent cramp in
my stomach. I sat up to figure out what was wrong with me.
Suddenly, I felt an intense urge to go to the toilet I also wanted to
throw up. "Azeb! Azeb!"
"What?"
"I am sick. I am going to throw up. I think I'm having
diarrhea too."
"Sebebegna. That is why I hate to go with you anywhere."
"What are you talking about? Is it my fault that I am sick? It
is your thirty-five cent food that made me sick!"
238 Tower in the sky

She laughed. "I don't even know where the latrine is. I made
a grave mistake bringing you here, anyway."
My head spun and I barely heard what she was saying. "Can
you take me or not? I am going to throw up right here!"
She got up reluctantly and helped me get up from the box.
We went out to look for the latrine. We were heading toward where
we thought it might be when we saw four Abyot Tebakis. They were
conducting their night patrol. We found the latrine but I was too
scared I might slip into the pit. It was dark and I couldn't see the
hole. When I was done, we came back and halfway through I said to
her, "We've got to go back."
She was indignant. "You will get us killed tonight. Look
how they are watching us. They will know we are not from around
here if we hang around too long."
I didn't care. I was too ill to worry about them. "Can you
please take me back?"
"She is going to get us killed tonight!"
We had to go back and forth four or five times, closely
watched by the Abyot Tebakis. The only reason they didn't stop us
was, I believe, it was obvious that I was in distress. Finally, I curled
on the box and drifted into sleep. I was too sick to get up in the
morning. I dragged myself out and we took a taxi as far as Piassa. I
got off in front of Cinema Ethiopia and she continued her ride to
Casanchis.
I figured I might sleep over at Aster's (Martha's older sister)
that night. I didn't bother to go to Martha and friends' apartment on
the third-floor. Around midnight, the doorbell rang. Aster and her
husband Demissie and I woke up. I was sleeping on the couch in the
living room and went to the bedroom. The little boy was still
sleeping. The bell rang incessantly. We didn't know what to do.
Aster and Demissie suspected it was the secret service looking for
 Tower in the sky 239

me. Who else would ring the bell after midnight when a strict
curfew was in effect?
Demissie struck upon an ingenious idea: send me down the
building by a rope through the window. They lived on the second-
floor. He said he could braid a rope out of their bed sheets. I looked
at the snow-white linen. I held a smile in check. I went over and
drew the curtain and saw three Abyot Tebakis in front of Omar
Khayyam restaurant, their Kalashnikovs slung over their shoulders.
I saw myself shot in mid-air and plunge to my death down the
building and my body sprawled in front of Gebre Tensay Pastry
Shop,. where I had my daily cream hom fix. "There is no way I can
do that," I said. I wanted to burst into a loud laughter.
The bell kept ringing. They would definitely break in if no
one answered the door. The couple and I stood in the bedroom
trying to come up with a sensible escape plan. They wanted to hide
me under the bed or in the armoire. But those were places the Abyot
Tebakis and secret service first searched. Finally, Demissie decided
to see who was at the door through the bathroom window, which
faced the elevator. But there was full moon and whoever was at the
door could see him. He tiptoed to the bathroom, while Aster and I
were watching him in silence. I thought he would never get there
watching him drag his long legs. Finally, he reached the window
and leaned over to the side, lowering his head to have a glimpse of
who was at the door.
The doorbell suddenly ceased ringing and Demissie saw
Martha and Mahlet hopping into the elevator. He shook his head
and grinned. Relieved we went back to bed. The next morning, I
went to the third-floor to find out what the girls were ringing the
bell for after midnight. They were angry with Aster and Demissie
for not answering the door. They had no idea I was there. They had
a visitor and had come to borrow a mattress!
240 Tower in the sky

The incident led me to believe that I really needed a shelter.

I didn't like the idea of subjecting my friends to what Aster and her
husband had gone through that night.

Not long after that, Tito found me a shelter at a Kebele adjacent the
Derg office. The owner of the house was a teacher whose name I
never learned. The infamous Solomon, who had killed and
imprisoned a squadron of youth, was the cadre of the Kebele. He
rambled through the Kebele with a machine gun in his hands and
often stopped people and searched them. He even shook down
women's baskets when they came from the market.
One night, I was on my way home when I saw this tall man
leaving a kiosk, located off the street. He was carrying a machine
gun in his hands. I knew it was Solomon. He never liked people
behind him. We were the only ones walking in the street. I didn't
want that machine gun aimed at me so I ran down to the kiosk to
avoid him.
"Weird guy!" the shopkeeper said when I asked for chewing
gum. I pretended I didn't hear him. I paid for the gum and looked in
the direction Solomon was heading. He had disappeared in the dark
but I lingered behind, just in case. I didn't want him to ambush me.
Thanks to God, I got home safely.
All the youngsters in the Kebele had left home. Solomon
once called a Kebele meeting. These meetings were mandatory.
Anyone who did not show up was labeled "counter-revolutionary"
or adhari - reactionary - if the person was well-to-do. People were
also punished in various ways for not attending the much-hated
meetings. At the gathering, Solomon asked the people to hand in
EPRP members. He told them that it was easy to identify them.
"You will find them at bus stations pretending to read newspapers,
telling the time, scratching the tip of their noses. In a cafe, they
 Tower in the sky 241

order either tea or coffee. They whisper amongst themselves. They

look shabby - girls with Afros, netelas and sneakers, and boys with
worn-out jeans and dirty sneakers."
That was largely an accurate description of EPRP members.
What was interesting was that he was asking parents to hand in their
own children! The Derg later executed him. That was how the Derg
paid its gratitude to its zealots.
But it saved its monstrous brutality for EPRP members and
its supporters.
242 Tower in the sky

And behold, a great wind came from across the wilderness and struck the
four corners ofthe house, and it fell on the young people and they died...
-Job 1:19, New American Standard Bible

On the eve of May Day, April 30, 1977, the Derg committed the
most atrocious crime in Addis. It was a Saturday afternoon, and the
Youth League had organized small demonstrations in each Kebele.
By six o'clock, hundreds of youth had been killed and many more
arrested.
That night, I was at my shelter when Abyot Tebakis went
door-to-door, searching and arresting more youth. A youngster from
the neighborhood, the teacher who gave me the shelter and I were
sitting at home when we heard their footsteps. The house was tiny,
with two-rooms but no back door. Since there was no route to
escape, we awaited our fate in death-like silence. The Abyot Tebakis
would definitely take away the young man and me, should they
come in. Finally, we heard them knocking at the house next to ours.
We waited in silence. They skipped our house. We were spared
because the teacher was a Kebele official.
The entire city was gripped with shock by what had
happened that evening.
The next day, I left home early for a short IZ meeting. We
talked about the tragedy and all Zones were asked to bring the tally
of the dead on Monday. When I came back home that night, I heard
the wailing of a woman next door. I leamed that she'd been looking
for her missing son since the previous night. He was neither among
the dead nor among those in prison. Like hundreds of parents, this
woman has been scouring the city night and day to find her SOD.

Parents who went to the hospital to claim the bodies of their

dead children were asked to pay 120.00 birr for the bullets wasted
on their sons and daughters.
The level of atrocity was unfathomable.
244 Tower in the sky

Firing squads inundated the city. Targeted raids took place;

hundreds and thousands of young people and others were thrown
into jail, and hundreds more killed. The Derg unleashed its
bloodthirsty force in frenzy. Melson was still on the offensive,
avenging the blood of its members spilled by the EPRP. Its vendetta
knew no bounds.
The streets of Addis and other major cities turned red with
blood.

I started working In the Field Committee which facilitated the

sending of members to the army in Assimba, We had to provide
money and contact names for members on a daily basis. The
comrades had left home and had no place to stay, as members and
supporters were "exposed." The number of members that needed to
be sent to Assimba became overwhelming, a logistical as well as a
financial nightmare. Some members spent nights under bridges,
exposing themselves to danger. Many of the members sent to
Assimba did not even make it. They were heard of no more.
Cafes became dangerous, as more and more were identified
as EPRP hang outs. I had to meet Tito at Noh cafe one morning, just
before our seven o'clock meeting. When I got there, the door, which
normally opened at six in the morning, was closed. I wondered if
Tito had already been there and left. I looked around. He was
nowhere in sight. I waited for a few minutes and went to the
meeting. I found him there.
"Sorry! I had no way of informing you of what had
happened. "
"What happened?"
"The cashier at Noh was taken away this morning just after
they opened the door. They shot him several times. But they said he
was still alive when they took him away."
 Tower in the sky 245

"No wonder the place was closed."

"I got there a few minutes after they left. I couldn't wait."
Another day, I went to Lidet Biskut Bet, the cafe and pastry
shop at Teklehaimanot Square. The place was always jam-packed
with League members. One of the servers always greeted me
enthusiastically; as soon as he saw me coming in he would yell,
"Tea for one!" He might be serving customers or simply standing,
tray tucked under his arm. When I looked in the direction of the
voice, he would wink at me and get me tea as soon as I sat down.
When I came in" that day, he did not shout his usual, "Tea for one!"
He came to my table with a somber face.
"You should leave quickly. They came in, about fifteen
minutes ago and took one of the young people. I have seen the guy
with you before. That is why this place is empty."
That was when I noticed that the place was indeed deserted
and eerily quiet. There were only a few older people. "What did he
look like?"
"He is of medium-height. He was sitting over there," he
said, pointing to a table in the comer. "A young man came in and
sat with him for a few minutes and then left. Just after, men in
civilian clothes came in and took your friend away. Please leave.
We are alerting all."
I bolted from the pastry shop and took a cab. I wasn't sure
who the person was that was taken. I feared it might be the Zonal
Committee member I went to meet. I later found out that it was him.
I had missed jail by a few minutes.
Luck was what kept us alive, for the most part. As the hunt
for EPRP members reached a peak, meeting places became hard to
come by. The IZ often scrambled to get one. We went to a house,
once, for a day meeting, around seven in the morning. It was locked
by a padlock. There had been a raid the previous night; some
246 Tower in the sky

members had been taken away. If the soldiers had still been there,
the IZ would have landed in jail. A few days later, the soldiers
raided another house a few minutes after we had left. Another five
minutes, and we would have been caught with incriminating
materials.
"Let's go to the Ij meschia" we often said when we ran out
of meeting places. Ij meschia - a place where you surrender - was a
tiny, dark, one-room mud house in Gola Mikael. The Kebele knew
it was as an EPRP nest Going there amounted to surrendering.
Ij meschia had a tiny bed and a chair. Most IZ members sat
on the bed when having a meeting. Tito sat on the chair. There was
always a soft knock on the door around noon. Tito opened it
halfway and a dark wrinkled woman's hand passed on a tray to him.
Without fail, there was one coal black injera with a handful of
yellowish macaroni in the middle of the tray. That was lunch for
five people, four men and a woman. The yellowish macaroni
reminded me of the Pasty Bet my friends and I used to go to during
our university days.
Once, the IZ found a meeting place on the second or third-
floor of a building just above Omar Khayyam Restaurant in Piassa.
In the middle of the meeting, we heard men's voices and footsteps
in the hallway. A deafening silence fell over the room. We
scrambled to stowaway our papers. The parquet floor in the
hallway squeaked much louder as the footsteps came closer and
closer. We stared at one another. The lone escape route in the house
was the tiny window facing my friends' apartment. The only chance
of getting away would have been jumping two or three stories down
through the tiny window. That meant hitting the ground beside
Omar Khayyam and being greeted by the bullets of the soldiers
guarding the Electric and Power Authority Building, which is just
across the street. There were also Abyot Tebakis and soldiers, rifles
 Tower in the sky 247

flung over their shoulders, pacing up and down the neighborhood on

the lookout for a kill, not to mention soldiers on machine gun-
mounted patrol cars.
There was nothing we could do but wait.
We heard two men talking, but we couldn't figure out what
they were saying. We then heard papers shuffling and the men
walking away. We waited in silence until the sound of their
footsteps died away. We wondered if we should leave or carryon
with the meeting. We figured they wouldn't come back so we
decided to stay. We finished our meeting around five in the
afternoon. When we opened the door, it was sealed with a paper
with a Kebele seal. Tito bent down to read it. It was an eviction
notice.
The tenant was in rent arrears of two months!

It was time for me to leave the shelter at Solomon's Kebele. Tito

told me that they had found me another around Kidist Mariam in the
house of one of the League CC members, Gezahegn. Gezahegn' s
mother lived with her three daughters, two of whom were in their
mid-teens and the youngest of whom was six years old.
Etiye, as I called Gezahegn's mother, told her neighbors that
I was her oldest daughter from a previous marriage. She said I had
come from Arsi where I lived with my father. Gebeyehu Dagne, a
League CC member, used to come there to play cards. I thought he
was trying to lighten up the kids' and their mother's lives. Etiye was
always worried about Gezahegn, whom I had never met. He had left
home some time ago. It was safer to be there than at Solomon's
Kebele. But my heart was somewhere else. I was worried about
Getachew.
248 Tower in the sky

Father, forgive them; for they do not know what they are doing.
-Luke 23:34, New American Standard Bible

Anjas became the object of the Party's fury. In the same way the
Biblical Jewish high priest transferred the sins of the community to
the scapegoat on the Day of Atonement (the day Jewish people
made atonement for the sins of Israel), the high priests of the
revolution transferred their sins to the Anjas. Anjas, many of whom
were falsely accused, became responsible for all that had gone
wrong in the Party. In the same way Getachew and Berhanemeskel
were driven out of the Party Central Committee, and in the same
way the scapegoat was chased away and banished from the Jewish
community, Anjas were tracked down and killed. The most
prominent witch-hunt was conducted against former Abyot founders
and members.
Their own comrades shot them dead at night or in broad
daylight.
Abiyu Ersamo, one of the founding members of Abyot, and
other Abyot members, such as Endreas Mikael and Bekri Mohamed
were gunned down after Getachew was detained. Getachew Assefa
was never heard of after he went to North Shoa with a Politburo
member.
EPRP went on rampage to banish Anjas from the face of the
Earth. The rank-and-file did not know the political differences that
precipitated the purging of Getachew and Berhanemeskel from the
Politburo and Central Committee of the Party. What most of them
"knew" or rather were told, was that Anjas wanted to work with the
Derg, that they wanted to break up the unity of the Party and that
they denounced members to the secret service.
The threat of or even the existence of Anjas was
exaggerated.
 Tower in the sky 249

At a time when morale had gone down and members gave in

easily to interrogation, Anjas became responsible for every arrest
and execution. They became enemies that had to be severely dealt
with. In some Kebeles, members distributed leaflets with names of
suspected Anjas, exposing them to danger. They did not realize the
implications of their actions. But they did it, anyway. They were
blindly and readily following whatever was filtered down to them.
The scapegoating of Anjas served a purpose. It diverted the
attention of members from the mistakes of the Party leaders who
shifted responsibility from themselves to Anjas_ The hatred against
Anjas became a unifying factor, even more than the hatred of
Meison.
Many Anjas, chased by Party and League squads, were
forced to surrender to the authorities, hoping for mercy. Some of
them gave up people and information. They were either imprisoned
or executed for their "trouble." Others joined the various Marxist
groups surrounding the Derg, such as Woz League and Malerid, to
save their lives. These individuals were not even in the top ranks of
the Party, who enjoyed privileged information about the Party or the
League.

It was years later that Nebiyu Aynalem, a former EPRP member,

told me about the genesis of Anja. "The Politburo removed
Getachew from the committee," he said. "There was no due process.
They just decided that he should not attend their meetings. The CC
elects Politburo members but they expelled him, anyway. They
expelled Berhanemeskel at the same meeting. They had asked me to
give shelter to Berhanemeskel two months prior to his expulsion
from the ce. I did not know he was the same Berhanemeskel Redda
at the time. I was working in the Addis Ababa Party IZ Committee
representing Zone One. Berhanemeskel and I often shared our
250 Tower in the sky

concerns about the armed struggle staged by the Party in the cities.
One day, he confided in me that there were comrades who shared
our concerns and that we should meet them. 'We have to save the
Party,' he said. So the six of us, that is, Berhanemeskel Redda,
Getachew Maru, Getachew Assefa, Abiyu Ersamo, Bekri and I met
one day. We had a discussion and an argument all night. That was
how I got to meet Getachew Maru. I never knew him personally.
Getachew Maru had a resolute position on urban anned struggle. He
was saying, 'All this bloodshed is not necessary. It is adventurous.
But it can be rectified. '"
"We met again the following week," went on Nebiyu. "At
the meeting Berhanemeskel said, 'The existing leadership is illegal.
It has no legitimacy. Let's assume the leadership until congress is
called.' Getachew Maru said, 'Are you crazy? We cannot create a
parallel leadership behind the comrades. This will hurt the Party. It
will hurt comrades. Comrades have made a mistake. We should
give them counsel not hurt the Party. We cannot endanger the
Party.' Abiyu said, 'We can go to Wolayita. There is an area that I
know of and we can negotiate from there.' Bekri said, 'I got contact
with defense committee members. We can take the ammunitions to
Wolayita. ,,,
"An argument ensued over this," Nebiyu continued. "The
three of us, that is Getachew Maru, Getachew Assefa and I said we
shouldn't do that. 'As it is, the Party does not have adequate arms to
defend itself; we cannot expose it to greater danger. What we can
and should do is give advice to the comrades.' I was tired, finally,
Around two or three in the morning, I said to them, 'I'm an EPRP
member. I am going to report to the Party that we had this meeting.
I'm out of it.' Bekri said to me, 'You can't get out of it. They are
not going to let you get away with it, anyway.' I went to bed. They
 Tower in the sky 251

went on with their discussion and voted on it around four in the

morning."
"On one side stood Berhanemeskel, Abiyu and Bekri, and on
the other Getachew Assefa and Getachew Maru," went on Nebiyu.
"The next day I told Berhanu Ejigu, my contact person, what had
happened. They asked me to submit a formal report. I told them
everything...who said what. They expelled me from the IZ. Zero
Kishen told them to let me stay. 'It might look like elimination,' he
said. However, Ginnachew Lemma said, 'How can we work with
such an opportunist?' Berhanu Ejigu took the same position. So I
was expelled on the grounds that I was sabotaging the urban armed
struggle. "
Zero Kishen was a member of the Party Central Committee
and Berhanu Ejigu that of the Addis Ababa Party IZ.
"Abiyu Ersamo, Endreas and Bekri started their own
activities," continued Nebiyu. "Getachew Assefa and Getachew
Maru maintained their contact with the Party. The Party killed
Bekri, Abiyu and Endreas sometime in April. In the same month,
they asked Getachew Maru to come to Hayahulet Mazoria and
detained him."
Getachew's friend, Shimeles Retia, told me that, all of them
that is, Berhanemeskel Redda, Abiyu Ersamo, Endreas Mikael,
Getachew Assefa, Getachew Maru and Bekri Mohamed, had the
same position on the three questions: urban armed struggle, Fascism
and a United Front with the Derg.
"Their difference was on the how," he said. "Getachew
Maru had seen the problem ahead of time. From among those I
knew, he was the only one who did not want to leave the Party. He
used to say, 'Let's have an internal and democratic discussion. Let's
put pressure on the CC to allow discussion within the Party. ,,,
252 Tower in the sky

That was exactly what Getachew was saying to me too all

along.

"Ajirit, you have to accompany a Yebelay Akal to Mekele. He

cannot travel on his own. This time we will get you a real ill card.
Go get a picture and give it to me later today," Aklilu told me
sometime in May.
I got my picture taken at Photo Berhan in Piassa and gave it
to him around five in the afternoon.
"Here is the code, your ill and money. You are going to
meet the comrade around Somale Tera tomorrow afternoon. He will
be wearing khaki pants and a khaki jacket, a black cap and a black
ann band," Aklilu said when I saw him the next day.
I met Fikre Zerga, a Party alternate CC member, the next day
at the Somale Tera. I got there first and saw him coming from a
distance. He was about six feet tall and good-looking. I wanted to
smile. The camouflage did not work. He didn't look like the kind of
person he was trying to look like. It was obvious that he was an
educated person despite his efforts to disguise himself as an
ordinary person. I later learned that he had studied law at Haile
Selassie I University and went to America for further studies. He
told me that we would be leaving the next day around one in the
afternoon and I should wear black clothing.
"We will be traveling as a married couple, mourning the
death of their son. I want us to avoid the main bus going to Dessie,
We will take the Lonchinas, one or two towns at a time. Ifwe make
it to Dessie safely, then we will take the Mekele bus from there," he
told me.
I ran to Mercato and bought a black headscarf and went to
my cousin's to steal a black dress and a netela. I didn't have the
time to notify Azeb, I didn't even know how to reach her, since she
 Tower in the sky 253

didn't have a permanent shelter. We had a "mechanism" for

meeting, but that was only if our appointments failed. I contacted
my Zonal Committee members and some of my "single contacts"
and notified them of my absence for a few days. In the event that I
did not make it back, my Zonal Committee members knew how to
contact Tito.
The next day, I went to the bus station in a long black dress,
a black headscarf wrapped around my head. The borders of my
netela laid over my shoulders, the way mourning women do. I met
Fikre at precisely one o'clock at the bus station beside the ticket
counter. We bought our tickets and he told me that Debre Berhan, a
small town about 130 kilometers northeast of Addis, would be our
destination for the day. We didn't have much to say to each other in
the bus. He was very tense. There weren't that many people. We
arrived in Debre Berhan after two and a half hours and checked into
a small hotel. We took a room with two beds. It was only after we
retired to our room that Fikre began to relax. We talked about the
Party, the League and the situation in the country over dinner. I
wondered if he knew where Getachew was and how he was doing. I
couldn't have asked, since it would have been an infraction of
discipline.
Fikre and I got up early in the morning and rushed to the bus
station in the biting morning chill to look for a Lonchina that would
take us to Kara Kore, our destination for the day. Lonchinas are
buses that only go short distances. We found one and went to a
teahouse at the station to have breakfast until departure.
We arrived in Kara Kore without incident. We had lunch at
an eatery, just off the main street and wondered if we should spend
the night there or proceed to Dessie. Finally, we decided to leave
when a Lonchina arrived. We happened to get one around one or
two o'clock, and arrived safely in Dessie in the late afternoon.
254 Tower in the sky

We checked in a hotel Fikre seemed to know. It was close

to the bus station. He called his friend, who came right away. The
hotel patron gave us a private room and the three of us dined and
talked for a few hours. I was tired and went to my room leaving the
two there. I slept through the night and woke up early in the
mormng,
I wasn't sure if Fikre's friend took a room with him or if he
came in the morning. I saw them together at breakfast. The hotel
owner had prepared breakfast with coffee and tea, which we
gobbled down and rushed to the bus station. Fikre's friend came to
the station to see us off. We boarded the Mekele bus, which was
filled to capacity. Fikre became relaxed once we passed Dessie. He
had worked in Dessie for quite some time and didn't want to be
recognized.
Endayesus checkpoint near Mekele was the major challenge
after Dessie. The bus stopped in the open space before the fortress
and men were asked to get off Two young soldiers came into the
bus and asked the women to open their luggage. Fikre had two
suitcases: one green and one yellow. He had given me the keys
before he got off. He stood on my side of the window and looked
inside. He looked nervous and I saw beads of sweat on his forehead .
.He wiped them off nervously with a white handkerchief. I didn't
understand why he was so tense.
"Whose suitcase it is that," the taller soldier asked, pointing
to the green one sitting on the rack.
"It is mine," I said.
"Bring it down," he ordered his colleague.
The soldier brought it down and put it on an empty seat.
"Open it," the taller one said to me.
 Tower in the sky 255

I unlocked the padlock and opened the suitcase as naturally

as possible. There were military uniforms inside! I was stunned but
kept my composure.
"What are those?" the taller soldier asked me with a frown.
"They are my husband's uniforms."
"Your husband is in the army?"
"Yes, he is."
"Put it back!" he ordered his colleague and asked, "Whose
suitcase is the yellow one?"
"It is mine," I said with an almost flirtatious smile. I knew I
was in danger. I didn't know what else could be in the yellow
suitcase. I didn't want him to open it.
"It is okay. Leave it there," he said to his colleague and went
past me.
I looked at Fikre. His eyeballs seemed to pop out of their
sockets. Who knows what else is in those suitcases? Why didn't he
tell me? What if I had made a mistake? Fortunately, I was poised
betraying no emotion.
The male passengers came in after being searched and
showing their ID. Fikre came back and sat beside me. He looked
relieved but sweat still trickled down his cheeks. He had
surmounted the last and most formidable hurdle. He smiled at me,
took my hand, and pressed it as a way of saying "Thank you." I
smiled but said nothing. We got off the bus in Mekele and went to a
house not too far from the bus station. I was standing in the middle
of the living room when Fikre came over and embraced me.
He said, "You are a brave girl. I stood there trembling and
thinking about what might happen to you, while you were sitting
there collected. When you were asked to open the suitcase, I said to
myself, 'What have I gotten this girl into?' But you did very well. I
was impressed with the way you comported yourself."
256 Tower in the sky

"Why didn't you tell me you had military uniforms in your

suitcase? I told the soldier they were my husband's. He asked if my
husband was in the army and I told him yes."
He laughed and hugged me again. "I had a discussion with
the comrades about it before I left - I mean whether or not to tell
you about the contents of the suitcases. We decided that it was
better not to because if you knew you might become nervous if and
when you were searched. There is 12,000 birr, cassettes with
revolutionary songs, military uniforms and other things in those
suitcases. Everything is going to the army."
I shook my head and laughed. My guardian angel was there
once again to protect me. I spent a few days in Mekele, and then it
was time for me to get back. The night before I left, Fikre told me
he wanted me to come back and work in Tigray with them.
"I will take you to Assimba next time you come. I have
written a note asking the comrades to send you up here," he said,
giving me an envelope.
I smiled and told him I would deliver the letter. He gave me
another envelope to give to his friend whom I met at the hotel in
Dessie. I left for Addis the next day. I popped into Zerai Deres
when the bus stopped at the Woldya checkpoint. The bus arrived in
Dessie late afternoon. Before checking in a hotel, I ran to the Post
office to drop off the envelope to .Fikre's friend who worked there.
Fikre's friend came along and helped me check in a hotel and we
went to Etege Hotel to have dinner. We then went for a walk and
finally he accompanied me to my hotel and left.

The second assessa was in full swing when I came back from
Mekele. Addis has never been so tense. People were taken away
from their homes, work places and cafes without question. They
were stopped and searched in the streets, and often arrested or shot.
 Tower in the sky 257

I proceeded to my friends' apartment in Piassa from the bus

station. I always brought a skirt and a blouse with me when I
traveled so that I wore them on my way back to Addis. All I had to
do when I got there was remove my netela and my headscarf. My
friends were home when I got there. I was so tired and all I wanted
to do was go straight to bed. "Where have you been? You have
become so dark." They bombarded me with questions. I laughed it
off as usual. I spent the night there.
The next day, I stayed home all morning. I would have to
wait until seven in the evening to call Tito or get in touch with
Aklilu. Besides, I was not feeling well. Every time I traveled, I
became ill. I brought back all kinds of parasites with me. I had
diarrhea and nausea again so I decided to buy the pills that the
doctor had once prescribed for me in the afternoon. My friends
came back home for lunch and as soon as they left, I changed my
mind and wanted to see if I could run into Tito at the Ij meschia.
When I got there, I looked around quickly to see if the coast
was clear. I neared the house and found the door ajar, which meant
there was no meeting going on. It also meant that there could be
someone or no one. I hoped Tito or at least someone I knew would
be there. Otherwise, I would be making a blunder. I peeked through
the door and saw Alemayehu Egzeru standing, his back to the door,
sorting through papers. He twisted around when I came in.
"Ajirit, you are back! You were supposed to come back the
day before yesterday. We thought you were done with!" Alemayehu
was a League CC member.
"I got back yesterday. Everything went weI1. H
We chatted for a few minutes and when I rose to go, he
asked if I could pass hundreds of leaflets of Democracia to
Habteselassie, whom he was supposed to meet at five o'clock.
Habte was a comrade in whose house the League IZ met a few
258 Tower in the sky

times. The leaflets were to be distributed that night and I squeezed

them in my round straw purse and took off. I hated carrying a purse
and when I joined the university, I had bought the straw purse from
Harar for its casual look. Only female American Peace Corps
carried it then. Azeb and Sara used to tease me saying I was
aspiring to be a Peace Corps.
I still had some time to kill before seeing Habte, so I decided
to go back to the apartment. It was the first time I had ever taken
,
anything implicating there. I took off the sweater tied around my
shoulders and threw it over the round lid on my purse as a
precaution. I decided to go via Nyala Hotel, located on a side street
just a few meters away from the Piassa apartment.
"Halt!" I heard someone yell when I came into the street
leading to Piassa. I wasn't sure where the command had come from.
I looked behind me and there was no one. "Halt!" I saw two Abyot
Tebakis standing on both sides of a small side street off the road
leading to Piassa. They had stopped a man and were searching him.
The man had both hands raised up in the air. I didn't know what to
do. If I turned back, they would be suspicious and pursue me,
maybe even shoot me if I attempted to run. If I went up the street,
they would definitely stop me. What am I supposed to do with the
hundreds ofleaflets I am carrying?
I went up the hill slowly watching them from the comer of
my eye. I made it seem like I was out for a mid-afternoon
promenade. By now they had let the man go and were watching my
movement. There was a vegetable stall a few yards away, just below
Pizzeria, but the question was how to get there before they stopped
me. I reached the stall after what seemed an interminable walk and
dived in.
I grabbed brown paper bags and threw in fruit displayed by
the window so that I could follow the movements of the two
 Tower in the sky 259

predators. I saw their eyes riveted on the window. I got almost

every type of fruit without letting my eyes off the window. It
occurred to me that I might have more fruit than I could pay for. I
had only twenty birr on me.
So I went to the cash counter and the bill came to sixteen
birr. I went back to the window pretending to get more bananas. I
found the Abyot Tebakis still looking through the window. I
fumbled with the bananas until a miracle happened. I saw two men
coming from the side street behind the Abyot Tebakis. I quickly
moved to the door but kept out of sight of the Abyot Tebakis.
"Halt!" When the two men put their hands up and the Abyot
Tebalds started to search, their backs facing the stall, I darted out
and briskly walked back down the street. The apartment was only a
few meters away, but I didn't dare go up there as I would definitely
be stopped. I wasn't even sure if that Kebele hadn't also been raided.
My best bet was to go back where I came from. Once I made a tum
on the side street to Nyala Hotel, I dumped the fruit and sprinted. I
didn't even look back until I reached Lion Pharmacy, which was
quite far from where the Abyot Tebakis were. It was only then that I
noticed I was running in a quiet street!
I went back to the Ij meschia. Well, Alemayehu was still
there. "You almost got me nailed with these pamphlets!" I said,
breathing heavily and giving back his bundle of Democracia. We
talked until he had to go to his appointment. I had nowhere else to
go so I decided to go back to the apartment. I went up Churchill
Road to kill time. If there was a raid at the Piassa Kebele, it would
be over by six 0' clock, I assumed.
When I arrived at the apartment, my friends' housemaid told
me I was lucky. The Kebele was raided by the Abyot Tebakis
minutes after I left. They searched every apartment in the building
and took away the son and nephew of the owner of the pastry shop
260 Tower in the sky

downstairs, who lived on the same floor as my friends. Had I stuck

with my previous plan of staying home till seven in the evening, I
too would have ended in their hands.
I had cheated prison or death twice in one day.

I met Aklilu the next morning and gave him the envelope Fikre had
given me. I didn't think I would never see him again when we
parted that afternoon.
"Guess what!" Azeb said, looking alarmed when I saw her
around one in the afternoon the next day.
"What?"
"1 was walking with Aklilu this morning in Teklehaimanot ...
near Lidet Biskut Bet. We heard men shouting 'Halt!' We turned
around and we saw them get out of a car carrying machine guns.
Aklilu started running toward Black Lion Hospital. I ran into a tej
bet. There were men drinking tel and the servers hid me in a back
room. I later escaped safely. I learned about an hour ago that Aklilu
has been arrested at the back of the hospital when an Abyot Tebaki,
who saw the Meison cadres chasing him, hit him on the head from
behind. He became momentarily unconscious and fell to the ground.
They took him away. "
I was speechless.
Tito and I had an appointment around six in the evening in
front of Nyala Hotel that day. I wondered if he knew his older
brother has been arrested that morning.
"Have you seen Aklilu today?" I didn't even bother using
Aklilu's code name.
"No. Why? Did you have an appointment with him?"
I realized that he didn't know. "I am sorry to tell you that
he's been arrested." I told him what Azeb had told me.
 Tower in the sky 261

"Is that so?" he said in English, his big eyes suddenly

turning red.
Aklilu, we later learned, daily faced the most brutal torture
imaginable. News came almost every day about the unspeakable
torture he had to go through and how he endured it all with silence.
He later died hanging upside down from a pole!
As Secretary-General, his loss was a huge blow to the
League. His death had a tremendous impact on all of us who had
worked with him. He had come from Switzerland where he was
pursuing his education. He was one of the most committed
revolutionaries I had ever met.
Aklilu, like Getachew, used to be concerned about my laxity
as far as security was concerned. He insisted that I should never
enter a cafe with another comrade before I made sure someone I
knew was there. But I always ended up making a mistake. There
were times that he left a cafe, like he did with Azeb, as soon as I
came in with a comrade or comrades. He became frustrated with me
every time that happened. He was a real gentleman and always
expressed his frustration politely.
I rarely had appointments in Mercato before I met him. We
met every day, at times twice a day, at Arat Kilo or in Mercato. One
day, I was waiting for him early in the moming at a cafe in
Adarash. A man came in and sat down beside me and told me that
he has been 'coming to Mercato for business everyday and that he
has seen me in the same cafe or in the area. He offered me a job at
Reis Engineering if I was not going to school. "It is not a good idea
to be seen in a cafe everyday in these dangerous times," he said.
While the man was talking to me, Aklilu came in. I started up when
I saw him. He went back out. The gentleman asked if I knew him. I
said "No" and took leave right away. Aklilu was waiting for me in
the Adarash.
262 Tower in the sky

He was not too pleased with my behavior. "First of all, you

shouldn't have reacted when you saw me. It was obvious from your
body language that you knew me. Second, you shouldn't have left
the cafe right away. That is the kind of thing I've been trying to tell
you to avoid. What if the man was a security agent? It would have
been the end of you. .. and me too:' he chided me with a gentle
smile.
"Sorry, I know what you mean," I said and told him what
the man had said to me. "Incidentally," I continued, "after I met you
here yesterday, I took a cab to Casanchis. The taxi driver told me
that was the fourth time that I'd been in his taxi since morning. I
wasn't even aware of that. He said I should never do such a thing in
these precarious times."
"That is the kind of/thing I am trying to tell you to avoid.
You really ought to be aware of your surroundings. I don't
know...you just walk around as if nothing is going on. It is by sheer
miracle you are still alive. You look innocent and I think that is
what is helping you," he said, patting his mouth with his fingertips.
A few days later, I was making a phone call from a
payphone in Amede Gebeya, a shopping area in Mercato. I was
holding the receiver when I swirled around and saw him going
down the street with a couple of men. I gave a start, smiled, and
unintentionally put the receiver back on the hook. He pretended he
did not see me. I re-inserted the coin into the slot, re-dialed and
turned. There he was standing beside me unable to control his
laughter. "You never learn, right?" he said, shaking his head.
Aklilu had a point. It was mostly through associations that
members got to know one another. If a comrade is seen with an
individual, that individual is automatically taken as a League or
Party member even if he or she is not. Such identifications had
serious security repercussions, especially in areas with dense youth
 Tower in the sky 263

populations, which are also hot spots of EPRP activities. Many

League members were mostly known to Abyot Tebakis, secret
service agents or cadres, through associations.
It was the same with labeling others as Meison or Anja. If
someone was seen with a known or suspected Meison or Anja, the
entire League structure "knew" that individual was a Meison or an
Anja, even if the person was not.

Not long after Aklilu was jailed, I started feeling malaise and
getting frequent headaches. I was taking a shower one morning
when I found a lump on the back left side of my neck. It was as if it
had burgeoned in one day. I had forgotten about my health
problems. I had stopped taking medication since I left home. I
waited to see if the swelling would go down. It actually became
bigger. The idea of being sick again terrified me. Not because I was
afraid I might die, but because I would be unable to continue my
party activities.
I say this without irony. To understand my frame of mind at
the time, you have to understand the prevailing feeling within the
movement toward our own mortality. As far as we were concerned,
the fear of death had long been vanquished. Our love and
commitment to the Party had washed away the stain of fear. There
was no terror of the unknown: death caused us neither angst nor fear
of annihilation. Death was not a lonely journey: we were interred
together in mass graves, comrades-in-arms in death as in life. Death
did not concern us. The struggle, the Party was all.
There was nothing enigmatic or mysterious about death, it
was simply a sacrifice. We knew what we were dying for. Historical
Materialism had taught us that History is intelligible and
explainable. It ascends unerringly toward its goal. There might be
bumps on the road but we will inevitably get there.
264 Tower in the sky

Death had meaning. The meaning was not founded on the

sense of being "part of that vast harmonious whole" or "oneness"
with nature or God. It had meaning because of the sense of being
part of the great march of History. Above all, it was the feeling of
"oneness" with the Party. The meaning invested in the Party was
too deep and too profound to be destroyed by death.
There was no "Toistoyan moment" no flash back, no self-
analysis when we came face to face with the Reaper. Many endured
horrendous deaths, the image of the Party enshrined in their hearts,
shouting slogans: "Long live EPRP!" "EPRP will win!" Their stories
inspired the rest of us awaiting our turn. We had faith that our
deaths were not to be in vain. Other comrades would pick up the
torch when we fell. Thousands endured the most gruesome torture
so that their comrades could relay the torch to the finish line, so that
the Party might continue to fight. They kept silent so that the Party
could speak.
They died so that the Party could shine.
Death was the least price we could pay for the noble cause;
for the people. Our comrades' unmarked mass graves were etched
in red: "I will wash the path to freedom with my blood so that you
can live happily ever after."
A testament to the heights to which the human heart could soar.
Oh Marx! How he wounded my heart! How callous of him
to say that we "must perish in order to make room for the people fit
for a new world." We were not like the Jews whom "Moses led
through the wilderness." We thought we were the new generation!
We did not think we were to be surpassed. We chose to perish
because we believed in the cause, not for glory or to gain
immortality. We surrendered our lives out of pure dedication to the
struggle.
It was a sublime, even a holy act.
 Tower in the sky 265

When the swelling on my neck became even bigger, I called my

sister Almaz and asked if my mother could get me the traditional
medicine that I used to take before. A couple of days later, I met
my mother at Arat Kilo, at the taxi stand beside the Ministry of
Education. She and my sister Negede had earlier fled from Harar
when the invading Somali army started bombing the town. She gave
me the herb and ·plied me with questions, hoping to know where I
lived and what I did, perhaps knowing that it was a futile effort. I
received the herb and went home. The swelling came down after
about ten days I started taking it. I did not have the time to worry
about myself so I discontinued the herbal medicine altogether,
thinking the rest of the swelling would go away on its own.

It was around mid-June, not too long after Aklilu was arrested. I had
to meet Azeb at a bus station. I waited around for her for an hour,
knowing very well that it was extremely dangerous to stand in one
spot for more than a few minutes. Azeb was always late for our
appointments. When she arrived, we usually spent the first five
minutes or so arguing over her tardiness. I always said to her, "If
ever I get arrested in the streets, it would be when I am waiting for
you." She always laughed it off. That day, I left; it was the first time
I did that.
The next day, I saw her walking down Churchill Avenue
with a couple of men near the Post office. I was going up the hill on
the opposite side. She looked at me with a restrained smile. I looked
away so as not to see the people she was walking with. I wondered
if she had shown up for the appointment the previous day. I was still
angry with her for making me wait that long. The next day, I had to
see an IZ member, a new addition to the committee. "Ajirit is
arrested," he said with a grave look on his face when I met him in a
cafe.
266 Tower in the sky

"Which one?" I asked alarmed, The first people that came to

mind were Azeb and Meron Assefa. Meron, a tall and beautiful girl,
and I had not worked together but we knew each other by sight. I
always worried about her because I saw her everywhere. Since I
saw Azeb the previous day, I didn't think it would be her.
"Azeb!" he said.
I was dumbfounded. "But... 1 saw her yesterday around five
in the afternoon."
"She was arrested this morning at a meeting. One of the
comrades did not show up but they went ahead, anyway. The
comrade was apprehended on his way there and led the soldiers to
the meeting place. The comrades were caught with papers and
ammunition. One of the soldiers slapped Azeb on the face and
asked her what she was doing there but didn't take her away. She
could have escaped had she not hung around. A soldier came back
and took her away. The comrade must have told them that she was
with them."
I was once again in shock. Azeb and I had come a long way.
We had become inseparable the past couple of years. She was clad
with iron discipline and had unbounded commitment and dedication
to the cause. She was one of the most pure hearted people I had ever
met. I wanted to cry out loud. I could not imagine my Party
activities without her. Even if we had never worked together, we
had always shared money, thoughts, ideas and concerns. Lately, we
had shared fears about the way things were going in the Party. I
wondered how long I could hold out before I faced her fate.
I dragged myself through the days following her arrest. It
was not advisable to go to someone's house who has been arrested,
but I often went to visit her mother. Azeb and I exchanged letters,
which were secretly smuggled in and out of prison. I wrote to her
about the "son" - the League - and the "father" - the Party.
 Tower in the sky 267

Azeb, like Aklilu and so many others, had to endure the

most harrowing torture. She would be taken to the hospital only to
render her fit to endure more torture. They said every bone in her
body had been broken.
She never gave in.
Besides Azeb's fate, I worried about Getachew's. There was
no news about him. There were all sorts of rumors about Anjas. The
anger directed at them did not seem to let up. I wondered how long
the Party was going to keep Getachew under custody. I longed to
see him but my instinct had told me that I was not going to see him
for the rest of my life.
268 Tower in the sky

...in whose name he had sacrificed others and was himself being
sacrificed: in the precept, that the end justifies the means. It was this
sentence which had killed the great fraternity of the Revolution and made
them all run amuck.
-Arthur Koestler, Darkness at Noon

Tito's eyes had something about them. They gave a foreboding

import. We were at an IZ meeting. It was only a couple of weeks
after Azeb was arrested.
"Thirteen houses were raided last night. The comrade has
died ... Getachew Maru...has died," he said, speaking slowly.
I was speechless. I could hardly hear what he was saying.
His voice grew faint. It seemed to come from a distant place. I
thought I was going to lose my senses.
"Getachew Maru...killed ...squad... shot..."
What is Tito talking about? Am I dreaming? It can't be true.
Getachew can't be dead. That is not possible. This must be a bad
dream. "Can you say that again?" I said in a cracked voice and
struggling to clear my head.
Tito recounted, "Thirteen houses were raided last night. One
of them was the house the comrade has been detained in. When the
comrades heard the soldiers knocking at the gate, Getachew told the
squad leader that they should escape. The squad leader refused.
'You are not going anywhere,' he told him. Getachew asked, 'Are
we going to surrender arms folded?' The squad leader then took out
his pistol and aimed it at him. Getachew hit the comrade's arm with
karate and when the pistol fell on the floor, he jumped out of the
window. The squad leader picked up the pistol and followed him
and shot him dead."
There was an eerie silence.
 Tower in the sky 269

Tito then said, "Girmachew Lemma has also been killed.

The Party's duplicating machine was confiscated. It was kept in a
house in Abware..."
We got up to go. Tito asked me to meet him at the cafe
around Cathedral School, as we usually did after a meeting. I told
him I would rather go home and see him the next day. I didn't feel
like talking to anyone. I wanted to go some place where I could be
alone and try to make sense of what I had just learned. A boundless
despair enveloped me.
The world turned dim.
Getachew is dead? He is killed by the Party? I wanted to
scream but nothing could come out. My brain became bleary. I felt
like I was standing at the top of a mountain and looking down
through a fog.
I didn't want to go to my shelter. I didn't know where else to
go. I dragged myself to the apartment in Piassa knowing that there
were going to be people there. All I needed was to be alone and a
pillow to bury my head in and cry my heart out. I tried to cry on my
way to the apartment but my tears refused to come out. I saw the
world I had built for the past four and a half years crumbling in
front of me. The young man I had loved, respected, admired, and
looked up to has died.
I wanted to know about his last moments. How did he feel
when he was shot? What did he say? Did he say anything at all?
Did he think about me? What were his last thoughts? What a cruel
world it is? Could it have been bearable ifthe Derg had killed him?
What did he die for? For trying to save lives? Is all this in the name
ofthe revolution ...in the name of the people? Are we justified to do
away with peoples' lives in the name ofthe revolution? How can we
do good ifwe kill one of our own? We started out with a sense of
270 Tower in the sky

comradeship, love and trust but where are we going? Have we

forgotten where we are going? What about our collective mission?
The world suddenly turned opaque.
I could not fathom how anybody could pull the trigger on a
person like Getachew, who was so peaceful and so gentle. He had
never lost his trust in the Party nor in his comrades. Can I remain in
the Party after all this? How can I continue to work for the Party
alongside the people who had killed him? Is it going to be the same
again?
Everything became a blur.
I got to the apartment in Piassa dazed. Everybody was home.
They were chatting and laughing. I envied them for a fraction of a
second. Their world seemed peaceful, bright, and gay. Can I go
back to that life again? I was too tired to answer the questions that
p,?pped in my head. I sat with them for a couple of minutes and
went to the bedroom feigning headache. I couldn't even confide in
Martha.
How could I tell her that his own Party has killed my
boyfriend? Martha used to tease me when she saw me fret over the
executions followed by Yefiyel Wotete on TV or on the radio. She
always asked if I was afraid my boyfriend in the "cave" would be
killed. She never knew I was going out with Getachew. She just
assumed that I was dating a mysterious man in a "cave," whom I
feared might be killed by the Derg. The "cave" for her was the
underground. I found out that I was lonely. I wished Azeb was
there. I missed her so much.
I felt hollow.
As I lay down on Martha's bed, I wondered what was
happening to me. Why am I not able to weep for Getachew? I was a
cry girl who shed tears over every trifling but when I needed my
tears the most they would not come. I wondered if it was normal.
 Tower in the sky 271

I wanted to get up and run away but didn't know where to go. Will
they hunt me down and kill me if I run away? Where am I going to
run? Should I run away? What about the struggle?
I pretended I was asleep when Martha slipped in beside me.
I stared at the ceiling in the dark. I didn't want to close my eyes.
Closing them amounted to forgetting Getachew. I wanted to stay
wide awake so that I could feel the pain. I kept thinking about how
we met and the times we spent together. His shy smile, his tender
gaze, his trembling hands, his quivering lips, his pounding heart, his
peculiar laughter, his noble soul, his loving heart, and his serious
discussions paraded in front me. It all seemed like a dream.
I looked back at the love we had, a love that was
underground...a love that was intense, always threatened with
danger but all the more profound. He was my mentor, the lamp who
led me through the darkness and showed me the new life stretched
ahead ofme.
I wondered about destiny. How 14-'as it that I met him instead
of somebody else? I went back to the first day I met him to look for
,an answer. There was no answer. Even though the pain was
unbearable, I was happy I met him. After knowing him, I wouldn't
have wanted to meet anybody else. I wouldn't have traded the time I
had spent with him for the world.
Why is all this happening to me? I had lost another friend,
Afework Demissie, before Getachew. He had asked me to come
with him to Amsterdam when he went to do his Masters degree in
Geology. I didn't want to because going to Amsterdam at the time
meant getting married at seventeen. Afework died in a car accident
a few months after he came back from Holland. I went to his funeral
in Harar and cried until my tear ducts dried up. Only Getachew and
my involvement with the Party had helped me come to terms with
his death.
272 Tower in the-sky

I remembered Minasse, my little brother, whose death I had

never come to terms with. I thought about my affliction. Why are
these things happening to me? What have I done wrong? Why I am
chosen for all this tragedy? For the first time; I realized how
precarious existence was. I discerned that life was full of tragedy
and some people are chosen to shoulder the better part of it. I
thought I was one of them.
I felt life had closed in on me.
I saw Getachew coming with his shy smile. He had his ugly
berretta hat and white rimmed reading glasses on. "Getachew is
alive! He is alive! Why did I think they had killed him? Why did I
think he was dead? He is alive!" I heard myself say. I sat up on the
bed shaking and sweating. I looked around and the girls were
sleeping. I must have drifted into sleep' for a few minutes. It is only
a dream! Getachew is dead! That was the last time I dreamt about
him. It was already morning. I wanted to wake up the girls and tell
them Getachew had died. I wanted to tell the whole world that the
Party has killed Getachew. I had no strength left. The words would
not come out. My tears had still refused to come out. .
Something had snapped in me.
In the morning, I dragged myself out of bed, took a shower
and left with a heavy-laden heart to see Tito. How am I going to
face him? For the first time since I joined the Party, my faith in it
was shaken. I had two alternatives: to renounce it or to continue to
fight beside those very people who had killed Getachew. " ,
I was confounded,
I met Tito at the cafe in front of Cathedral School. He
looked crestfallen. His eyes had the same expression they had when
I told him about the imprisonment of his brother, Aklilu. 'We sat
with a sullen silence for a few minutes.
 Tower in the sky 273

"I'm sorry about the comrade. It is unfortunate," he said a

while later, shaking his head.
I looked away. I did not say anything. There was nothing to
say. I wouldn't bear mention Getachew's name to any EPRP
member. I knew Tito would feel as bad about Getachew's death. He
was an Abyot member. He probably knew Getachew from the time
he was recruited in addition to working with him in the League ce.
A few days went by. I learned from Tito that Getachew was
not only shot and killed by the squad member but that they had put
acid on his face to disfigure him. They put his body in a sack and
left it in a corner in a toilet. When the Derg found his body, Tito
said, "It took them three days to identify him. "
I thought I was going to lose consciousness. We were
standing in front of Nyala Hotel. I wanted to sit on the ground and
regain my consciousness. I couldn't say anything. Wasn't killing
him enough? Who is capable of committing such a horrendous
crime?

Years later, Nebiyu Aynalem told me that he knew an eye-witness

account of Getachew's death. Nebiyu was the member of the Party
IZ Committee who had told me about the genesis of Anja.
"The Derg's intelligence was wiretapping conversations and
tracing calls at the time," he said. "They were able to identify
twenty to thirty houses. The Party had warned its IZ that the house,
the one Getachew was detained in, was one of the houses the secret
service had eyes on. Getachew was at the time guarded by two
squad members. Mezgebnesh, the wife of Berhanu Ejigu, lived
there. Berhanu Ejigu had already been killed in Wolayita. The
house was considered safe and we used to meet there."
By ''we,'' Nebiyu meant members of the Addis Ababa Party
IZCommittee.
274 Tower in the sky

He went on, "1 used to inquire about Getachew after he was

detained because I was the one who reported our meeting after the
six of us had met. They said to me, 'We have no issue with
Getachew's position. Is he going to take revenge? That is our
problem. What ifhe creates a problem for us if we let him go? Is he
ever going to forgive us?' At the time, Zero Kishen had already
gone to Assimba. I was already expelled from the IZ."
Zero Kishen was one of the Central Committee members of
the Party and by "they" Nebiyu meant the Party Politburo members.
"I think June 28, 1977 was the date the thirteen houses were
raided," said Nebiyu. "The IZ had a meeting that day and when they
found out that they were indeed surrounded, they had to make a
decision about what to do with Getachew. They didn't want to leave
him there because they didn't want the Derg to capture him alive.
They decided to kill him and then they put his body in a sack and
threw it away. I am not sure if it was a committee decision or the
decision of an individual."
"Mezgebnesh came out of the house first but they let her go
when she said she was going to buy oil," continued Nebiyu. "Then
Ginnachew Lemma and Asfaw came out. When they were told to
stop, Ginnachew told them that they were peaceful people. He then
started shooting and a commotion was created but they escaped and
went to a car wash and spent the night in a Lonchina. In the
morning, they went to a house in Casanchis unaware that there were
security people in the compound. They told them to stop but
Girmachew ran on one side and Asfaw on the other. Then Asfaw
saw Ginnachew fall. He was shot dead. I heard it all from Asfaw.
He has not been seen or heard from since."
The "benevolent" killing of Getachew appalled me. I
thought it was even more vicious and callous. I asked Nebiyu about
Getachew's alleged attempt to escape.
 Tower in the sky 275

He said, "Somebody told me that Getachew had tried to

escape when he was at the Casanchis house hitting the squad with
karate. But there is no proof for that. H

Getachew's friend, Shimcles Retta, told me that Getachew

was at his place the day the Party detained him. "He left home
around eight in the evening that night. My brother and I saw him off
to a taxi. I told him to bring a gun with him. He got angry with me.
'How can I bring a gun with me when I am going to see comrades?'
he said. I heard about his death when I was in prison. I was arrested
on June 25. When I was there, I heard that squad member Surafel
Kaba and his colleagues gave a statement during interrogation
saying that Getachew was not shot dead. They beat him to death
with a club. They put bleach on his face and encased his
dismembered body in a sack. The Derg identified him by his ID
card and by his thin mustache. I heard that in their interrogation
statements, Surafel and Co. stated that, 'We beat a comrade like
Getachew Maru to death. We didn't even have respect to a founding
member such as him. ,,,
I found this account even more gruesome.
This was what I also found out from Nebiyu later. "They
asked me to prove that I am not Anja. They told me that a death
sentence has been passed on Berhanemeskel Redda and' that the
only way they could carry it out was through me. They said he was
in Merhabete and he has EPRP' s arms at his disposal. They told me
that I should take an armed squad to Merhabete and meet a
commando in Fiche. So I went to Merhabete."
By "they" Nebiyu meant the Party Politburo members.
"The squad members and I discussed the issue," went on
Nebiyu. "We said, 'These people are cruel,' and we cried. We did
not carry out the mission. I said to them, 'Berhanemeskel is very
alert. He probably knows about our plan. There is no point in
276 Tower in the sky

looking for him.' I told them to-go back to Fiche and I came back to
Addis. When they found out that the mission had not taken place,
they killed the teachers, who they thought had possession of the
arms that Berhanemeskel had allegedly taken. One of them, a
school principal, survived being wounded. There was no Party
leadership at the time. There was only one person. He was the one
who made all the decisions."
Abiyu Ersamo, a member of the Addis Ababa Party Inter-
Zonal Committee, has had custody of the organization's arms in a
house located in Akaki, which is about twenty-two kilometers from
Addis, before they were shipped to Merhabete.
Shimeles reminisced, "Abiyu had refused to surrender the
arms, saying that he wouldn't give anns for the purpose of killing
people. We transported the ammunition to Debre Berhan, gave them
. to some teachers, and came back to Addis safely. They killed the
teachers and only one survived after a volley of seven bullets was
sent through his stomach."
" "Getachew used to live with me but he later got a shelter at
Haile Wolde's house in Afincho Ber where Berhanemeskel was
staying," continued Shimeles. "The house was located behind Sidist
Kilo university campus, across Etege Menen School. Behind the
\
house Ilis Ketchene River. which runs past Arat Kilo assuming the
name Oinfle. I used to pick up Getachew and Berhanemeskel from
there and drive them to different places where they might have CC
or Politburo meetings. Haile Wolde's house was rounded up one
day and Berhanemeskel and Getachew almost got arrested. The
house was exposed deliberately so that when the Derg eliminated
Berhanemeskel and Getachew it would serve as an item of
propaganda and a blessing in disguise to them."
By them, Shimeles meant the Politburo members Getachew
called the "clique."
 Tower in the sky 277

"Being CC and Politburo members in hiding, Getachew and

Berhanemeskel shouldn't have shared the same shelter," Shimeles
said. "The house at Afincho Ber was known by many members. A
vehicle that transported anus taken from Sendafa, was parked right
at the edge of the road leading to this house. The secret service
knew the car. These actions say a lot to me. Getachew and
Berhanemeskel escaped, anyway, and Getachew came to my house.
He walked from Ginfle to Asko barefoot. That fateful day, Haile
Walde was at a Kebele meeting of election of officials. Unaware of
the raid, he came home and was apprehended by Nebelbal forces
and executed. His girlfriend and her parents were killed too later."
Haile Wolde was a member of the Party and a friend of
Shimeles.
Shimeles told me that Getachew had written a seven or
eight-page paper on three questions. I learned from somebody else
that Getachew referred to them as the "three pillars." They were
urban guerrilla warfare, Fascism and United Front.
According to Shimeles, "Getachew's paper was meant for
discussion. He talked in the paper about the distinction between
brutality and Fascism, He said, 'The Derg is indeed brutal. There is
no question about that. However, that on its own cannot make it a
Fascist regime. Labeling it as such is ignorance. Ethiopia's level of
development cannot warrant such labeling. ' He wanted to
theoretically confront them citing the outstanding literatures of the
day. Whatever his views, they had no mandate to take such brutal
action on anyone, let alone on him, who was one of the founding
members of the Party. It remains a paradox to see that someone who
believed so strongly in negotiation has been killed."
"Regarding urban armed struggle, Getachew argued from
two standpoints: from EPRP's principle and practical point of view,"
went on Shimeles, "It is stipulated in the Party's principle that
278 Tower in the sky

liberation comes through armed struggle and politicization of the

peasantry. Anything other than that was a shortcut to power. It
became self-evident that urban guerrilla warfare was impractical. In
the absence of liberated areas, the squad members had no place to
hide after completing their mission. This is mere abuse of dear lives
and unnecessary sacrifice. It is total disregard of ethical
considerations. Based on these arguments, Getachew asked the
immediate cessation of this practice and the referral of the issue to a
new Party congress to be convened as soon as possible."
"His call for a new congress was based on the fact that the
then congress was not representative of the current membership of
the Party," Shimeles went on. "He noted that it was narrow and
represented only those members present at the time of the formation
of the Party. Since membership had grown tenfold, the Party should
have had a new and a more representative congress. His opponents
excused themselves by saying that the security situation could not
warrant his call. Getachew refuted their excuse as sham because
they were holding CC and Politburo meetings guarded by their
infamous defense squads. They knew the upcoming congress would
not condone such breach of principle and that it would hold them
accountable for the damage sustained thus far. It seems to me that
this was the reason that led them to a hasty decision to take his life."
"Getachew was clear about the need for a United Front with
the Derg, however short-lived," Shimeles said. "It was intended to.
gain legality and reach the masses as much as possible. It was a
tactical move to strengthen the Party and help grow its membership
and support. He cited the example of Chinese Communist Party's
temporary alliance with Chiangai Shek's Nationalist Party. When it
is required, forming a United Front is tactical. His opponents gave it
a different color because of his brother's presence in the Derg, They
implied that he was pro-Derg. Unfortunately, our comrades gave it a
 Tower in the sky 279

blind eye and indulged in eliminating brilliant comrades like

Getachew. Getachew was everything to us an exemplary friend, a
comrade, an organizer, a leader, a patriot "
Getachew's older brother, who was in the Derg, was a
sympathizer of the EPRP and Mengistu Hailemariam had given an
order that he must be shot dead wherever he was found. He was
outside of Ethiopia at the time as an envoy to the Derg. He never
returned to the country.
Getachew had asked his position to be debated internally by
members through the internal organ: Red Star. The "clique" denied
the request.
Shimeles said, "I always said that 'I would have willingly
died in his place because he was the one who would have benefited
the country more.' Berhanemeskel was older. He was in the student
movement longer, had worked for a while, and had lived abroad. He
. had all that life experience and was able to understand the intrigues
and machinations of the people he worked with. Getachew was too
young to understand all that. He trusted them and made us trust his
judgment. He unquestioningly trusted his comrades, which finally
resulted in his death. It was a weakness on his part to do that. They
did not excel him in IQ or academically. They excelled him only in
intrigue. "

I was confused when Getachew's friend Mesfin said to me years

later, "Let me tell you something. Getachew is responsible for the
death of our guys."
Then I realized what he was trying to tell me. By "our
guys," he meant Abyot members killed by the Party.
"Abyot was an organized body before the merger with the
EPLO," Mesfin went on. "We had many members and EPLO had
only a few individuals. We already had a constitution. Actually, one
280 Tower in the sky

of the criticisms directed at us was that we had made it very difficult

to join the group. The recruitment criteria were very stringent. We
had embraced the youth and to some extent the labor force. For
instance, we had good footing at Wonji Sugar Factory. The only
group that could compete with us in the factory was Woz League.
When talks began for the merger between EPLO and Abyot, we
didn't like the way they were rushing the merger. Getachew was
one of our representatives. They wanted to speed up the process
because they wanted our people."
By they, Mesfin meant members of the EPLO.
"We didn't want to be rushed into the merger," went on
Mesfin. "We wanted to slow it down so that we could discuss the
issues at length and get to know one another better. We also wanted
to know if some of the people we knew from campus were involved
with the group. We didn't like those people. Getachew said they
were 'militant' and 'comrades' after he talked to them. He was very
trusting. He was pure...innocent. He was the one who trusted them
and allowed them to push for the merger. He gave them the
opportunity to do whatever they wanted to do. They pressed him to
precipitate the merger too early. After the merger, he had a key
position before he was elected to the Central Committee of the
EPLO which was later re-named EPRP. He was chair of the Political
and Organization Committee. That was a key position."
"I know why, but why do you think he didn't go to
Merhabete with Berhanemeskel?" I interjected.
"He believed till the end that the issue would be resolved
through discussion and that they would work together again. You
know, Getachew loved discussion. He was very rational. We
warned him several times not to go to them but he didn't listen. He
trusted them. Berhanemeskel was not so positive about them. He
used to say to him, 'You don't know them.' You know, Getachew
 Tower in the sky 281

made us even feel-guilty. We felt bad about thinking that way about
the comrades."
"He made me feel the same way too," I said.
"One day, they told me that they had killed him. I don't
know ...1 just don't know. I was confused," he said, becoming
emotional.
"Getachew had a positive attitude toward Tesfaye
Debessay," he continued. "From what lleamed from him the death
of Tesfaye had hurt him."
Tesfaye Debessay was the chair of the Central Committee of
the Party who threw himself out of a building during the first
assessa. "But Tesfaye believed in everything that Getachew was
against," I put in.
"Yes. But Getachew said that Tesfaye could compromise on
issues. He could take a sort of middle-of-the-road position."
There was silence.
"You know, some of the comrades who came from abroad
looked down upon homegrown revolutionaries," said Mesfin with a
wry smile.
"Yes, Getachew told me that."
"Getachew never liked ESUNA. We never liked them. We
used to call them Tupamaros."
By ESUNA, Mesfin meant students who were members of
the Ethiopian Students Union in North America. The Tupamaros
were a Marxist guerilla group engaged in urban guerrilla warfare in
Uruguay from the early sixties to the mid-eighties.
I told Mesfin all that Getachew used to tell me about Fascism,
the PPG and urban armed struggle. I asked him if he had heard them
from Getachew.
"Those were not just Getachew's positions. They were
Abyot positions as well. We had our study circle intact ever since
282 T ower in the sky

we started it. We grew up together and kept the group for no reason
other than being friends and comrades. We discussed theoretical
issues all the time. I remember we spent the whole night one time
discussing the transition - the transition from socialism to
communism."
"We were against the Party claiming Fascism has held sway
in the country," Mesfin continued. "We were against the use of the
PPO as a strategic question and the launching of urban guerrilla
warfare. We also believed that we had to accept the Derg's
invitation to a United Front. What we suggested was that the
underground structure remained intact and those who were already
exposed worked overtly. There was of course danger in that. There
is sacrifice...but we understood that. One day Getachew came and
told us that the CC had made a decision to assassinate Mengistu
Hailemariam and that he had spoken against it. We were outraged
by the decision. He even argued on their behalf playing the devil's
advocate. He had a habit of doing that. The next day, I met my
contact person from the CC, Kiflu Tefera, and he told me about the
assassination plan. I didn't do it on purpose but I told him that I had
heard it from Getachew and we'd had an argument with him. He
reported on him and Getachew was accused of breaching the
principle of Democratic Centralism."
"Did you know about my relationship with Getachew?"
"You know," he laughed, "Getachew never told us directly
about your relationship. He started saying, 'It is good to have a
relationship. It is even good for the revolution. It is not necessarily a
negative thing. ' We knew about you and we used to laugh at him
and say, 'Hiwot must have changed his life.' You know, Abyot had
by-laws even on personal conduct such as drinking, smoking .
Getachew was puritan. We used to do everything... smoke, party .
H
He was puritan.
 Tower in the sky 283

Matheos, Getachew's friend, once told me, "I heard that

there was regret in detaining Getachew, Most of them had a soft
spot for him. One thing in history... if the Chinese have to give him
a medal or whatever, it was Getachew Maru who introduced
Maoism in Ethiopia. In fact, Mao's books, Peking Review... all that
came to Ethiopia...he must have been the first subscriber."
Melaku Takele, a former EPRP member, once said to me,
"Just as Berhanmeskel Redda had changed a generation of students;
Getachew Maru had transformed a generation of youth with
Maoism. He was able to achieve all that at such a young age."
Getachew's "sin," as presented officially by the Party, was
that he did not pass on the CC's decision to the League CC about the
launching of urban armed struggle. He was also accused of talking
to people out of the proper channel and that he had relationship with
former Abyot members. He was accused of campaigning against the
Party's decision to assassinate Mengistu Hailemariam, the killing of
notorious Kebele officials} Meison, and other cadres, and damage to
infrastructure.
Getachew became a CC member in August 1976, a little
over a year after the merger of Abyot and EPLO. He was a Politburo
member linking the committee with the CC. He was the youngest
member of the CC and linked the Party CC with the League CC. He
had worked in various important committees of the CC and was sent
to various important missions.
He was only twenty-seven when he died.
I salute him for his courage for speaking out his convictions.
He did not give a blind eye to what he saw around him, like most of
us, for the sake of maintaining his position in the Party or for fear of
being labeled. I admire his untiring effort to right the wrong through
dialogue.
284 Tower in the sky

Getachew Maru, 1972

 Tower in the sky 285

The Party, comrade, is more than you and I and a thousand others like
you and 1.
The Party is the embodiment ofthe revolutionary idea in history.
-Arthur Koestler, Darkness at noon

I wanted to hope in spite of doubt and confusion clouding my

world. Getachew's brutal death had left an indelible scar in my soul.
My being was shaken to its core. It wasn't his death alone that had
left me nonplussed, but the very idea that the Party could kill one of
its own. The persecution of Anjas was as distant to me as the stars in
the heavens; before Getachew's death, I simply refused to accept it.
But Getachew's death brought it close. As a result, my attitude
toward death changed: the halo surrounding sacrifice faded away,
the lofty meaning attributed to it waned, the burning desire to lay
my head under the guillotine cooled off. Revolution, change and
progress became tainted with cynicism.
But in spite of it all, my love for the Party endured.
As the shock subsided, helped along by the escalating
political repression and heavy workload, I began to see the future
and not the present. True, it was not the same Party I had wanted to
live and die for, but I still wanted to believe in it, and in the future. I
had heard Getachew often say that the "struggle is above and
beyond anyone individual or group."
I wanted to emulate that.
I would be dishonest if I said my love for the" Party was the
only reason I stayed. I remained in the Party partly because there
was no choice for me at that point. I couldn't and didn't want to go
back home and endanger my family. I didn't know where else to go.
The only alternative had been surrendering to the Derg, which
would have caused the death of so many. In my own right, I knew
enough to wreak havoc. I could never have done that. The only
286 Tower in the sky

thing left for me to do was to keep going until I faced the same fate
of thousands of other comrades.

At the beginning of September 1977, Tito told me that he was going

away for a three-day meeting. He went for the meeting of the
congress of the Youth League and when he came back, he told me
that, with the recommendation of comrades, I had become an
alternate League CC member. The "promotion" didn't excite me. I
was dead inside.
Around the end of October or beginning of November, Tito
informed me that I was transferred to the Party. It was a huge blow
to me. I couldn't imagine myself leaving the League. Tito didn't
like my transfer either but there was nothing that could be done.
A couple of days later, I met my Party contact person
through the communication code that Tito had given me. He let me
know that I would be working in the Party Shoa Inter-Zonal
Committee. I would be secretary of the Zone that included towns
like Nazaret, Debre Zeit, Awash and Metehara and Nazaret would
be my home base.

It was the end of November and I was in Mercato trying to flag a

cab around seven in the evening. None of them was willing to take
me to Kidist Mariam even if I offered to pay more. The street
slowly became deserted. I started getting anxious. I could be singled
out standing in the dark and frantically looking for a cab. Staying
that late in Mercato was suicidal. Finally, I decided to go to the
apartment in Piassa instead and hopped in a taxi.
I spent the night there and left at six in the morning to
change my clothes. When I got home, I saw the gate thrown wide
open and wondered why. I lurched to the back of the house to see if
Etiye was up. Hearing footsteps, the woman who baked injera for
the family rushed out of the kitchen, located beside the house.
 Tower in the sky 287

"Go away! Go away!" she said in a lowered tone, waving

her hand.
"Why? What is the matter?"
"The house has been raided. Soldiers were at the gate when I
arrived a few minutes ago. Haven't you seen them? "
"I didn't see any soldiers. Where is Etiye . . .T"
"She slept over at her sister's and came back this morning a
few minutes after I got here. She went to the Kebele to report the
incident. Please go away!" the old woman pleaded.
I went to the back door and found piles of wood at the
entrance. The door was broken into pieces. When I went in, the
door, which opened into the dining room, was smashed too. My
bedroom was close to the back door and I went in. The mattress was
hurled on the floor, cotton swabs scattered allover. My clothes were
tossed on the floor. I anxiously opened the book sitting on the
bedside table. I had taken pictures at Speedy Studio in Piassa to get
a new ID. I found all four intact. They had ransacked the place but
had not even touched the most important thing. I knew they
wouldn't find anything. I never left anything incriminating in the
house. I threw a few things in a bag and rushed out.
I wasn't sure if they were looking for me or Gezahegn,
Etiye's son. I was glad Etiye was not there when it happened above
all, the two girls. They would have definitely taken them away. The
girls have been hiding for quite a while at Etiye's brother's place in
old airport.
I was amazed at how fate worked. I was willing to pay extra
to get home but none of the taxis would take me. I thought of how
many times I had cheated death. I considered myself the ultimate
trickster. Had I known the story of Sisyphus then, I would have
believed I was as much a match to death as he was.
288 Tower in the sky

Later that day, I learned that Tito and many League CC

members were arrested the previous night. Tito had become
Secretary-General of the League, replacing his brother Aklilu.
Habteselassie, in whose house the IZ met, had also been arrested. I
had become friends with him lately. I learned that the same League
CC member who got Tito and Habte arrested was the one who came
to look for me at three in the morning. He was the one who
suggested I move to the shelter in the first place.
I learned that the comrade told his detainers that he would
confess if only they would not touch him. They did not. The first
person he got arrested was Habte. I was supposed to meet Habte at
six-thirty the previous evening. He was the reason I stayed late in
Mercato that evening. Tito always got home by seven. We all knew
that. The CC member led the security to his shelter just after he
stepped in.
I called Etiye in the late afternoon to ask her if I could see
her. She thought it might be dangerous for me after what had
happened and suggested I come the next day.
The following day, I took a cab around eight in the evening
and got off beside Shoa Bakery, looked around carefully and went
home slowly. The place was still in disarray. The Kebele had told
Etiye that there was nothing they could do for her. She had waited
for me until ten 0' clock that night and went with her youngest
daughter to her sister's house, who recently had a baby. Etiye and I
had a pact. She would lock up the gate and go to bed if I stayed later
than ten o'clock.
She learned from neighbors that the soldiers had come
around three in the morning and had stayed there until about six. I
got there after six, missing them by only a few minutes! I felt bad
about the broken doors, since it had happened on my account. I had
no money that I could offer Etiye. I packed the few belongings I had
 Tower in the sky 289

and left the house with tears in my eyes. Etiye was an amazing
woman with so much kindness and generosity. She had treated me
as her own child.

Since that fateful night, the entire League structure started

crumbling. The CC member was there right from the beginning and
knew everything. Our people in the security said, "Hide everything
that he knows." It was impossible to do so. Another League CC
member did the same thing. With most of the League CC members
arrested, there was no leadership. Sirak Tefera would later be
arrested. He had left the League IZ, like Samuel, to join the League
ce. The League structure was battered every day with so many
members arrested and killed and all that was blamed on Anjas.
But it was the Derg that had unleashed an untold terror in
the country.
290 Tower in the sky

There, sighs, lamentations, and deep wailings

resounded through the starless air,
so that at first! began to weep.
-Dante Alighieri, The Divine Comedy

I remember dreading having to go out in the morning during Lent

when I was in my early teens. Every morning, I listened to the
begena - lyre-like instrument - on the radio, instead of the usual
secular songs, while I was getting ready to go to schooL The begena
is many things at the same time. It is prayer, meditation,
thanksgiving, an inquiry into the meaning of life and death and
social and moral criticism through wax and gold (the literal and
hidden meaning of a word). The melancholic tune on the radio
matched the dark grey hanging clouds outside.
I felt the whole atmosphere was gloomy, morbid and
foreboding.
That was exactly what it felt like in the country from
October 1976 to February 1978. On February 4, 1977, Ethiopia saw
Satan rise up like a bolt of lightning from its belly in the shape of a
man named Mengistu Hailemariam, Mengistu drew his sword
against everybody and anybody committing one of the most heinous
crimes in history. He plunged the country into mourning, tears,
trepidation and horror.
His "red terror" campaign reached cataclysmic proportions.
Particularly, September 1977 marked a heightened stage of
the Derg's "White terror will be vanquished by red terror" campaign.
By white terror, the Derg meant the killing binge of Meison cadres
and others by the EPRP. It called EPRP members "mercenaries,"
"anarchists," "counter-revolutionaries," "revisionists," "sellouts,"
"CIA agents" and "instruments of imperialists." The "Life of one
revolutionary will be avenged by the lives of a thousand counter-
revolutionaries," Mengistu roared, letting his demons loose. When
 Tower in the sky 291

he spoke, his voice rumbled like a volcano, his body jerked with
spasm, his mouth spewed foam, the ground beneath his feet quaked
and the sky above his head whirled. On February 6, 1977, he
smashed three bottles of a red liquid at the Abyot Square
symbolizing the shedding of our blood.
Indeed, he slashed our veins and arteries open and spilled
their contents in the streets, avenues and squares.
Marx would have been proud in his grave to have been
proven right. All hell broke loose when Russia appeared on the
political landscape. She gave ammunition to the Derg enough to
annihilate its people, mainly the young. Her AK -47 rifles became
the pride of every Nebelbal, Abyot Tebaki, cadre, and soldier. It was
as if the weapon automatically spewed bullets.
The country trembled with violence.
Young people were rounded up and thrown into jail, tortured
with ruthless brutality and executed. They were driven to the
slaughterhouse in droves every single day. Their bullet-riddled
corpses were displayed in the streets for days as a deterrent to the
living.
The Derg reveled in voyeurism.
Blood flowed like water in the streets all across the country.
Mothers wished they were sterile. Their tears of anguish drenched
the earth and their wailings reverberated through the heavens. This
woman's lamentations fell on the deaf ears of the notorious Major
Melaku Tefera who had killed thousands in Gondar. But they were
echoed by mothers from east and west and north and south.

UD"'~ ,rtl.f1. pJ. '7/1,C ;r£llj tD1.e-r

PIf&.' 07JCA:r ~~oo1f hAm/:t,e-r

Meleaku Tejera God's younger brother

I beg your mercy, spare me this child today
292 Tower in the sky

And I promise} I will not bear another again.

Death struck everywhere. Family members scoured cities for

their missing children only to find their corpses sprawled in the
streets. The lucky ones found their children's bodies at their
doorsteps at night or at daybreak. Others were not so fortunate.
Their children's bodies were dumped in mass graves. It was not
uncommon for a family to have lost three or four children in one
day or in a short span of time.
Even God wept in regret.
Babies were wrenched from the breasts of their young
mothers. Many were orphaned. Those who survived Abyot Tebakis',
soldiers' and cadres' bullets trekked out of the country. Parents sold
their belongings to sneak them out, but militias ambushed many of
them in the jungle and either imprisoned or shot them dead point-
blank. Some vanished in the jungle, devoured by beasts. Others
perished in the desert, unable to endure the thirst and the scorching
sun. Girls were violated. Parents were accused of being members or
supporters of the Party or of hiding their children, and were thrown
into jail. Some were mercilessly shot. Others were not allowed to mourn
for their dead.
It was a reign of terror.
Ethiopia's proud children, who stood up valiantly against
foreign invaders, whose blood boiled with the slightest affront to
their dignity, watched with blank eyes when their country convulsed
with violence. They gaped in utter horror, as the gates of "the first
circle" of hell were hurled open in front of them. Gruesome killings
and grisly torture numbed their faculties. The people who had risen
up during the turbulent times of the revolution and shook the very
foundation of the previous regime succumbed to the atrocities now
perpetrated upon them. Violence shattered their existence to its core
and they didn't know how to respond to it.
 Tower in the sky 293

They became dazed and overwhelmed by shock, fear and grief.

Armored cars, uniforms, corpses in the streets, martial
music, intimidations and warnings on television, radio and
newspapers, forced meetings, rallies and demonstrations, constant
raids, imprisonment, mass massacre and mass graves fragmented
everyday existence. The whole array of government machinery -
Kebeles, Abyot Tebakis, Nebelbal, army, police, secret service
agents and cadres - not only altered the physical landscape of cities,
but also the very fabric of social and human existence. It seemed
like there were more armed people in the streets than civilians and
more spies in bars, restaurants, hotels and hair salons than
customers. The level of trust that existed among family members,
friends, neighbors and colleagues became as ancient as Biblical
times. The world they lived in was no longer recognizable.
They became strangers to themselves and others.
The people who spontaneously poured out into the streets
with bold slogans during those tempestuous months were dragged
out to support pro-government demonstrations with threats,
intimidations and punishment. Television and radio reported as if
they enthusiastically burst into the streets.
Marx, Engles and Lenin glared at us from a huge billboard
at Abyot Square. The trio was mockingly called the "Trinity." A
life-size statue of Lenin was later erected in front of the Jubilee
palace. "Comrade" Mengistu's picture frowned at us wherever we
went
It was a travesty of the revolution.
Many believed that what was happening to them was an act
of God. Churches and Mosques filled up more than usual as people
sought answers from above. Marginal religious groups, such as
Pentecostals and Jehovah Witnesses, mushroomed as people
scrambled to make sense of what was happening to them. The
294 Tower in the sky

buoyant spmt that characterized those seven months of the

revolutionary period was smothered.
Hopes were dashed. Euphoria turned to despair. The
rainbow, cast on Ethiopian skies during those revolutionary times,
was rolled up.

Jokes, parody and social ridicule became the only weapons for
getting even with the enemy. Mengistu, the Derg, cadres, Kebele
officials, Russians, Cubans and heads of state, such as Castro and
aging Soviet Union presidents, became subjects of cruel jokes.
A joke ran that a woman, who was worried about her dying
daughter, went to see a sorcerer after medical treatments failed to
cure her. The seer told her to hang a picture of the devil on the wall
above her daughter's head. The woman couldn't find a picture of
the devil, so she bought the picture of Mengistu Hailemariam
instead, believing him to be the devil incarnate. The girl died
instantly. Angrily, the woman returned to the magician saying he
was a liar because her daughter died after she put Mengistu's
picture over her head. But the diviner reprimanded her, saying if she
had followed instructions everything would have been fine; by
using Mengistu's picture instead of the devil's, she had given her
daughter an overdose!

Meison, "the bad boy of the revolution," fell out with the Derg and
went underground in August 1977. The Derg showed no mercy.
Assisted by the other Marxist groups (Woz League and Malerid) it
drew its dagger against it. Some of its prominent leaders, with PhDs
frorn European universities, such as Daniel Tadesse, Kebede
Mengesha, Kedir Mohamed, Terefe Woldestsadik and his wife
Atnaf Yimam, were hunted down and massacred. Haile Fida,
 Tower in the sky 295

Daniel's younger brother Desta Tadesse and his wife, Nigist Adane,
were arrested and later executed.
Once Meison was out of the way, the Derg aimed its gun at
Woz League and later at Malerid.
No one was spared.
EPRP, Meison, Woz League and Malerid fell one by one like
"Autumn leaves." They swore by Marx but were unable to sort out
their trivial differences and work together. Their behavior and
actions caused bedlam in their respective organizations. In the
process, they helped the Derg feast upon their corpses and have
power all to itself.
They paid the ultimate price for their intolerance, rigidity
and miscalculation.
Except for a handful on either side, whom Getachew might
have called "power-mongers," they were genuine revolutionaries
who wished their country the best. Many came from well-to-do
families or were well placed in society. They were doctors, lawyers,
engineers, university lecturers, teachers, pharmacists, geologists,
economists, accountants, businessmen, nurses, military officers and
students.
They were indeed tragic heroes. No matter what their flaws,
they were the 'golden generation' - a generation of 'shameless
idealists' with a great vision and altruism. They killed and died for
equality, freedom, social justice and human dignity. Ethiopia will
always remember them with weeping eyes for their selflessness and
vision and with a forgiving heart for their follies. Alas! She was
orphaned of her children in the twinkling of an eye.
The curtain fell on her. She receded into darkness. The
revolution "froze."
Uprooted from their native land, survivors of those deadly
years were "scattered like seeds" throughout the world. Many of
296 Tower in the sky

those who fled to neighboring countries languished for years in sub-

human living conditions. Others flooded European and North
American cities. Wherever they lived, many of them became eternal
strangers to the world and to themselves. Devoid of dreams and
ideals, they lost meaning in the present or the future.
They kept chasing the elusive past.

I took the train to Nazaret around the beginning of December 1977.

When the train pulled in the station in Debre Zeit (a small town
about 45 kilometers south of Addis), a search was conducted. I had
papers tucked in a small green bag, which I kept away from me.
When soldiers came in, one of.. them asked whose bag it was.
Nobody responded. He poked at it with his boot trying to figure out
what was in it I watched him from a distance, my head covered
with a netela. Finally, he left it alone and demanded passengers to
show their IDs, while his colleagues were rummaging through our
bags. When we arrived in Nazaret, I picked up the green bag and
got off the train.
Nazaret is a small, yet bustling town about 92 kilometers
southeast of Addis Ababa. It was an important town connecting the
capital city through the railway and bus routes in different
directions.
Kifle, chair of the Nazaret Zonal Committee, came to fetch
me at the station and took me to meet a girl who came on a bike.
The girl took me to her house where I spent the night. The next day,
Kifle came and took me to an apartment that was going to be my
home for as long as I stayed in Nazaret. I did not get the chance to
meet the Zonal Committee members right away, They were
supposed to come from nearby towns but were unable to travel for
security reasons.
I was at home when I received a call a few days after I
arrived in Nazaret, It was late afternoon and it was from a friend
 Tower in the sky 297

and co-worker of the comrade in whose house I was staying. He

told me that my host has been taken away from his workplace and
that I had to flee. He also told me that Kifle was apprehended and
that he was the one who had gotten the comrade arrested. "They can
be there any minute. Leave the place immediately," he urged.
I grabbed my bag, vaulted out, and took a cab to the bus
station. I had nowhere else to go. I was new to the town and did not
know anyone. I didn't know how to contact the girl in whose house
I had spent the night I arrived in Nazaret.
My only bet was to go back to Addis.
There were a couple of buses standing at the station but
there was no sign of movement. It was getting dark and I did not
know what to do. I couldn't check in a hotel because I had only a
few birr on me.
There were about seven or eight men at the station anxious
to leave, like me. Around eight 0' clock, I saw them talking at length
to a short stocky man. I figured he was a bus driver. He probably
didn't want to go because there were no more than eight people
going to Addis. After what seemed an interminable negotiation, I
saw the driver nodding. My heart skipped a beat. Maybe there is
hope! It looked like the men had negotiated a fare with him. I
couldn't believe it when he waved his hand for us to board the bus.
Each of us contributed whatever we could. I gave ten birr. The
regular fare was two. We arrived safely in Addis a little after eleven
o'clock. The bus dropped us off at the Nazaret bus terminal near
Legehar.
I didn't know where to go. I teetered between going to my
cousin's and the Piassa apartment. I finally decided to go to my
cousin's. But there was no taxi to be seen and the only cars swirling
around were military patrol cars, machine guns mounted on them. I
ran back and hid in the middle of two buses every time I spotted one.
298 Tower in the sky

Midnight curfew was fast approaching. I prayed for a

miracle to happen. My prayers were answered. I saw a taxi
accelerating toward Mexico square. "Taxi!" I yelled at the top of
my lungs. When it stopped, I raced to the other side of the street,
opened the door and dashed in. There were two passengers in the
taxi. One was sitting down in the front, the other in the back.
"Where are you going?" the driver asked.
"Tobacco Monopoly."
"You are lucky. That is the direction I am heading. You are
paying one birr."
"No problem." I was relieved.
The driver was kind enough to drop me off before my
cousin's house, which was meters away from the main street. ]
knocked at the gate softly but insistently. I had to go in before the
Abyot Tebakis saw me. It was past midnight by then. They were or
the prowl and that was how they ambushed people, beat them, took
them away and often killed them. After a few knocks, the guard
heard me and opened the gate. I went to the back door and found the
housemaid in the kitchen. Everybody else was sleeping. I went to
the bedroom I usually slept in feeling safe, at least for that night.
The next day, I stayed home all day. I was watching TV in
the evening when all of a sudden Kifle surfaced on the screen. He
had conceded everything and had taken them to all the places that
he knew. He had even taken them to a mountain where
ammunitions were hidden. They found one buried during the Italian
occupation! Nazaret and surrounding areas received a harsh blow
after that. I later learned that the young girl with the bike, the one
who let me sleep over at her place the day I arrived in Nazaret, was
shot dead in the streets.
 Tower in the sky 299

Coming back to Addis brought back memories of the times I had

spent with Getachew. It had almost been six months since he had
died. I was never able to come to terms with his death. Nothing could
fill the void it created in my heart.
I got in touch with my contact person, secretary of the Party
Shoa IZ Committee, and told him what happened in Nazaret. I
learned that Kifle had given my description to the secret service.
For the first time since I joined the struggle, I was known to the
secret service. I was in a far greater danger than I had ever been. As
a result, it curtailed my movement.
I learned that Nigist Tefera (the one who had the same
brown skirt as me) had died. She had had no shelter and was living
as a housemaid. She was supposed to be sent to Assimba since she
was unable to function in Addis, but the Party wouldn't let her
because of her relationship with someone related to Getachew.
When the Kebele arrested her, she took the cyanide she always
carried with her and died in a Kebele prison.
Talking of cyanide, the IZ had had a meeting at Habte's
house one night. In the morning, Tito put on the table some cyanide
pills he had brought with him. I picked one up like everybody else,
but put it back. The idea of taking my own life revolted me. Leaving
the place and walking down the street that morning, I wondered if I
had done the right thing. I kept asking myself if I did not have the
courage to die. I hoped, as I always did, to die instantly in the hands
of my captors before betraying anyone.
There was break down in the League structure (the Party
too). The organization had slid down the slope unbelievably fast
There was nothing much happening in Addis except for members
being jailed and killed-not even daily, but hourly. Only the ghost of
the League remained.
300 Tower in the sky

As it was battered on a daily basis, new members were

recruited without the rigorous recruiting methods used before. The
staunch discipline demonstrated by members over the past years had
become a thing of the past. Many had neither the resolve nor the
capability to protect their comrades as they had nothing to live or
die for. There was nothing to bind them together. So they gave up
names and information easily. Others continued with what seemed
like a Sisyphean defiance.
According to Greek mythology, the gods condemned
Sisyphus, the great trickster, to eternal punishment (after his death)
in the underworld for sins he had committed on earth. He had to
push a stone to the top of a mountain. Each time he pushed the stone
to the top, the stone rolled down. According to Albert Camus,
Sisyphus was conscious that his efforts were futile but rolled the
stone to the top with defiance. He rose above his fate by the very
fact of knowing his ''wretched condition." He rose above his destiny
because he scorned it
EPRP members did not scorn their fate. They hoped they
would win a war that they had lost a long time ago.
There was no more stamina for me to go on after so many
League CC, 1Z and Zonal Committee members had been arrested.
The comrades I had struggled alongside had all been killed or
thrown into jail. Only a couple had managed to flee. All that had
taken its toll on me. I dragged myself daily with outward composure
and equanimity, a trick I learned while nursing my affliction.

Around mid-December, the Secretary of the Party Shoa 1Z

Committee informed me that I was assigned to work in the sub-
secretariat office (which was under the Secretariat of the Party
Central Committee) and had to go to the South, as the secretary of
 Tower in rhe sky 301

the southern IZ Committee, comprising three provinces: Sidamo,

Gomu Gofa and Bale.
My immediate task was to send a report to Addis on the
insurrection that was staged in Wolayita in the province of Sidamo.
Why did it fail? The Party has been waiting for a report and nothing
had materialized. I was also to send a report on the Gomu Gofa
strategic area chosen for armed struggle. The study report has been
delayed. I was to go to Kuyera (a small town in east Shoa, some 240
kilometers from the capital city) first and stay there until I met IZ
Committee members. I was given a contact name and address and
another address in Gondar (the historic city in northern Ethiopia) I
would have to use in the event that contact with Addis failed.

I took the bus to Kuyera, Getachew locked in the vault of my heart.

Arriving in the late afternoon, I knocked at the door of a doctor's
house which would be my temporary home.
I met Mend Gebrechristos, the comrade I was supposed to
contact upon arrival, a couple of weeks later. Merid was a member
of the southern IZ Committee. I knew him by sight at the university.
He was my senior. He lived in Shashemene, a large town about 250
kilometers from Addis Ababa and about 12 kilometers from
Kuyera.
Kuyera was famous for its hospital that catered to three
provinces. The doctor who sheltered me lived in the compound of
the hospital. Kuyera was also well-known for another reason: it was
home to thousands of lepers. There was also the Kuyera Adventist
Mission School.
Life in Kuyera was dreary, but safe. Merid and I had called a
meeting of the IZ but the comrade in Bale couldn't travel because of
security reasons. Mend came occasionally to Kuyera to update me
on the developments. I had nothing much to do except for cooking,
302 Tower in the sky

cleaning and doing other household chores. For once in my life I

became domestic ... too domestic for my liking. I pretended to be
cheerful and carefree and never discussed Party or League with
anyone. There was an opportunity for me to read, but I could not
find the type of books I wanted.
As well, my health was not the best. I skillfully concealed
my physical ordeal even from the doctor in whose house I lived.
Now that I had all the leisure in the world to pay attention to my
body, I found out that the swelling on the back left side of my neck
was still there! I often had headaches, which I kept to myself.
I made up my mind to call home and ask my mother to bring
me the herbal medicine she had brought me earlier. I went to
Shashemene on a Wednesday, to call my sister in Addis, with a
young boy who was a relative of the doctor. I asked my sister if my
mother could bring me the herb to Mojo. Mojo is a couple of hours or
so from Kuyera. She said she would send it right away.
Sunday morning, I took a taxi to Mojo instead of the bus.
Only people with leprosy got on the taxi there. The driver opened
the front door for me, but I did not want to attract attention sitting in
the front. As all the seats in the back were taken, I sat on the floor
wedged between several lepers. The stench was unbearable. I
thought about the stigma and ostracism the people faced. They were
the lowest of the low. I was moved to tears. At the same time, I was
scared of seeing their maimed hands and toes and disfigured faces.
But I quickly reminded myself that I was fighting for them and
couldn't be afraid of them. I relaxed after a few minutes. After all, I
was safe. No one would have suspected I was sitting amidst them.
Nobody stopped the taxi at a checkpoint as it spun on.
I arrived in Mojo and met my mother after so many months.
I inquired after the rest of the family. They were all doing fine. She
wanted to know where I lived. I made it seem like I lived in Mojo.
 Tower in the sky 303

But she said, "A couple of weeks ago, somebody saw you in
Shashemene and told your aunt." I insisted that it was a mistake. I
had gone to the market on a horse-drawn carriage in Shashemene
with the young boy to buy foodstuff. That must have been when the
person saw me. I wasn't sure how the person recognized me since I
always pulled my netela over my head to hide my identity. I took
the herb from her and saw her off. I had to take the main bus that
came from Addis since there was no taxi around. I arrived at Kuyera
around three in the afternoon.
The next day, I took the herbal medicine, but only a small
dose. Taking more would have meant diarrhea and vomiting. At the
time, a guest from Addis had come to hide there for a few days. He
was the person in whose house Getachew had been detained in
Casanchis. I pretended I didn't know; I was as friendly and as
sanguine as ever. Merid also came, and I did not want to appear sick
in front of all those people. Merid told me that there would be a
meeting of the IZ the following Tuesday.
I went to another doctor's house in the hospital compound
for the meeting around six on Tuesday evening. It had taken over
two months to bring the people to that meeting. The comrades came
one by one: Taye Merid, Agere Miheretu and Mustefa and of course
Merid, who had come from Shashemene a few days earlier. We also
had an unexpected visitor from Addis: Mekonen Bayisa. It was the
first time for me to see him since I met him in a small hotel in
Alamata. He had come to hide in Kuyera.
Mekonen told us that there was neither Party nor League
structure in Addis. Everybody had been thrown in jail, killed or had
fled. He also told us Tito had given a television interview. I wept
when I heard that not because I thought he had betrayed the Party or
the League, but because I felt sorry for him having to go through
that painful process. Of all the people I had worked with in the
304 Tower in the sky

League, he had impressed me the most with his youthful vigor and
dynamism.
I mentioned to the committee members that I would go to
Gondar to resume contact with the Party. I had never seen what was
written in the piece of folded paper that I was given in Addis before
I came to Kuyera. Mekonen laughed shaking his head and said I
must have been out of my mind to even think of something like that.
"How are you going to enter Addis, let alone go to Gondar? You
have no idea of what is going OD," he said.
We agreed that Yirga Alem, the then capital city of the
province of Sidamo, would be my home base and that I would leave
on Thursday. I was to make a tour of the three provinces and speed
up the completion of the two reports. The meeting went on until five
inthe morning. We went to bed intending to continue the next day
at one in the afternoon. Mekonen and I slept on one of the twobeds
in the room. Two others slept on the other bed and the rest in
another room.
The next day was Wednesday, February 16, 1978. I awoke
around eight-thirty in the morning and thought of going home to
change and come back for the afternoon session. When I opened the
door, I saw a girl whom I suspected was a member. I went back to
bed feeling bad for having seen someone I was not supposed to. I
slipped in beside Mekonen quietly and lay down for almost half an
hour, figuring how to get out without bumping into anyone I was
not supposed to see, when the door flew open and that very girl
shouted, "Get up, the house is raided!"
 Tower in the sky 305

The great mistake of the Marxists and of the whole of the nineteenth
century was to think that by walking straight on one mounted upward into
the air.
-Simone Weil, Gravity and Grace

I pulled back the curtain on my left instantly and gaped through the
window in disbelief We were indeed fenced in! "Wake up!" I
yelled, jumping out of bed~ "Get up!" I screamed at Mekonen who
was still asleep. I shook him and turned toward the others. They
leapt out of bed and we crowded in the middle of the room. The rest
of the IZ members rushed into the bedroom and joined us. It was then
that I learned there were documents and even a rifle in the house.
It was utterly impossible to use the rifle. First, armed
soldiers had encircled the house and second, there were two little
girls inside, Is there enough time to hide the weapon and the
documents? Can we try to escape? We questioned one another.
Before we even got a chance to come to a decision, a male voice
from outside urged us to surrender with a loudspeaker.
We opted to buck the odds, anyway. Somebody told me to
go first; I ran into the hallway and saw the doctor's two daughters
whisking around in utter terror. They may have been four and eight.
I asked the older of the two to show me the exit. She led me to her
parents' bedroom and pointed to a window. I dashed toward it and
looked out. There was no sign of soldiers.
I dived out and fell on my knees.
"Halt!" I heard a voice shout when I got up and started
running. I kept sprinting and then heard a blast. It was apparently
shot in the air. My aim was to run to the end of the earth but I
scooted into the back door of the house next door. I had no choice. I
saw soldiers hiding in the lush garden beside the house. Had I kept
running, they would no doubt have shot me. There was no one in
the kitchen so I cruised into the living room. Wondering if the house
306 Tower in the sky

was indeed empty, I burst into a bedroom. I found two frightened

women looking out the window. I later learned that they were
nurses.
I bluntly asked them if they could hide me somewhere, just
anywhere. When they didn't respond, I climbed onto the unmade
bed and curled up under a pile of blankets. I thought for a moment
that a disheveled bed would perhaps be the last place to be searched.
But I soon realized the futility of my effort and jumped back out
The nurses stared at me as if I was a lunatic just escaped
from the asylum.
I went to the window, abandoning the whole idea of hiding.
I saw the doctor emerging from his house, hands up, followed by
Mekonen, Mustefa, Taye, Merid, Agere, the girl who had
announced the raid, and others whom I didn't know. I had thought
that at least some of them had managed to escape. My eyes were
still transfixed on the sad spectacle, when two soldiers came into the
house through the back door and drove me out, hands raised high.
I was escorted to the open space before the doctor's house,
where the other prisoners were. I was handcuffed behind the back,
like everybody else, and ordered to sit on the ground. There were
cadres and two men, whom I afterwards learned were security
agents from the Meakelawi Mirmera - the central investigation
agency. A huge crowd was watching the drama from a distance.
A man emerged out of a Land Rover, accompanied by a
couple of armed cadres. He hid himself behind dark shades; the
hood of his military green jacket pulled up over his head. He looked
like a character out of a mystery noveL It was obvious that he was
brought to identify people. I would find out later that he was an
EPRP member. He had at some point taken shelter at the doctor's
house or had worked in the area.
 Tower in the sky 307

The cadres and security agents had come for the doctor and
a nurse. The nurse lived with the two women into whose house I ran
but was in Addis at the time. They didn't expect to find the rest of
us in the doctor's house. They got so many in one place.
We were a windfall.
"Mekonen Bayisa! Isn't it interesting I found you here? I
had gone as far as Gondar to look for you. I can't believe I found
you here and so easily at that," one of the cadres, who accompanied
the man with the dark shades, said to him.
"Don't I know you from somewhere? Don't I know you at
the university campus?" the guy with the dark shades said, coming
toward me.
May be that is where I know him. He certainly looks
familiar. If only
he could take off those dark sunglasses and the
hood. "No. You don't know me. I never went to university," I told
him quietly.
"I am sure I have seen you somewhere," he insisted, peering
into my face.
The older of the two security agents came over and kicked
my leg with his boot for no apparent reason. But Taye was the one
who was subjected to the most abuse, probably because he was
sitting at the far end. Every cadre or security agent passing by gave
him a kick with his boot or a knock with a rifle butt
Once the cadres and security agents got everybody out and
thoroughly searched the doctor's house, taking away whatever
evidence they could find, they shepherded us to the two Land
Rovers parked on the side. The man with the dark sunglasses
watched his former comrades struggle to get into the vehicles with
their hands tied to the back.
"I am pretty sure I know this girl," he mumbled, while I was
waiting in line to get into the back of one of the Land Rovers.
308 Tower in the sky

"She is probably the daughter of one of the feudal lords

around here," I heard someone say and the next thing I knew was
getting a hard whack in the face. It was the older of the two security
agents. I wasn't aware he was standing beside me. He grabbed the
strings my hands were tied with at the back and flung me into the
back of one of the Land Rovers. I ended up on Merid's lap, face
down. I struggled to get up and squeezed myself between Merid and
the doctor's wife, Meskerem, who was a nurse. Finally, the Land
Rovers moved and cut through the throng of spectators.
They turned south when we came out of the hospital
compound. I had thought that we were being taken to Addis Ababa.
They brought us to a militia training camp in Shashemene, which is
about 12 kilometers from Kuyera. We entered into the compound
and were directed to an empty room with an earthen floor.

Lying beside Mekonen on the floor, I pondered over what had

happened that morning. I knew the inevitable would come one day
either in the form of imprisonment or death. But when it happened,
it seemed so unexpected. I have had several narrow escapes from
death in Addis which I was lucky to circumvent with no skill of my
own.
I had been sheltered from the savage witch-hunt taking place
in Addis since I arrived in Kuyera, I had almost gotten used to the
somewhat lackluster but peaceful life there. A moment came that I
had come face to face with death. I just couldn't come to terms with
my fate. I closed my eyes and was rehearsing the story that I've
been concocting since we got at the militia camp when I heard
someone say, "Haven't I seen you on the bus last Sunday?"
I instantly opened my eyes to a policeman standing in front
of me, a rifle slung over his shoulder. He looked familiar. I am
ruined!
 Tower in the sky 309

"No, you haven't," I said sharply.

"What? What a liar? Are you telling me I haven't seen you
last Sunday? You got on the bus at Mojo ... you wore a netela. You
came over and sat next to me. You bought oranges just before you
got on the bus. You got off at the Kuyera hospital around 3:00 in the
afternoon. Let me see if you can deny that."
Oh my God! He had indeed seen me just a week ago coming
back from Mojo, after receiving the traditional medicine from my
mother. "You must have seen somebody that resembles me," I said
quietly.
"No, it was you that I saw. I remember your face very well.
You were sitting right beside me. I have never seen such a liar in
my life," he said, wiggling his head in disgust.
I did not intend to carryon the conversation so I kept my
mouth shut. He left still shaking his head. Fortunately, there were
no cadres or security agents around. That would have complicated
things for me.
"This is not a good sign," Mekonen said, a faint smile
crossing his face.
I had been telling him earlier that I was going to deny
knowing any of them. I even told him that I would go to Gondar to
reestablish contact with the Party if I managed to get released. The
little note that I was given in Addis over two months ago with the
contact information was still hidden in my bag. I had to deny I was
on the bus that Sunday for my story to hold.
Around lunchtime, two soldiers came and led us out, and we
lined up side by side on the veranda facing hundreds of militiamen,
separated only by a small shade garden. The militias, peasants
conscripted from allover the country, had been training and had just
come back for lunch. Russians and Cubans were training them.
310 Tower in the sky

Someone, perhaps the administrator of Shashemene,

addressed the officers, cadres and militia, claiming that "twelve
counter-revolutionaries have been taken prisoner red-handed in
Kuyera." Before he even finished his speech, the militia surged
forward and demanded that we should be handed over to them so
that they could take a "swift measure" against us. They had to be
coaxed into having lunch. "The counter-revolutionaries will be
turned over to you - the owners of the revolution - as soon as we
are done with their interrogation. There is so much that they could
give out," the administrator lulled them.
They were not to be pacified.
Standing beside Mekonen on the veranda, I was astounded
and perplexed by their behavior. Why are they overzealously hostile
toward us? Wasn't the peasantry one of the main classes we've
been fighting for?
Suddenly, Getachew's words reverberated through my head
-like a thunderclap. "The peasantry, in a country such as ours, is not
only the backbone of the army but also of the revolution. We have
to educate and organize it in order to win its support. Ifwe don't do
enough in the rural areas and if we can't organize the peasantry on
time, we won't be able to rally it behind us."
It was a moment of illumination. With sudden clarity, I saw
the mistakes of the Party that Getachew had so earnestly been trying
to make me see. Did he have to die for me to realize this? Had we
done something to educate and organize these people, had we not
concentrated our forces in the cities, they would not be behaving
this way.
I felt in my being of beings the seeds of doubt, planted a few
months ago, sprouting and tearing through every fiber in my body.
When Getachew was killed, I had believed that it was a few
individuals who had created all that mess, not the Party. It was the
 Tower in the sky 311

hope that those individuals would come to their senses that allowed
me to carry on. But now, the edifice that I had painstakingly built
around the Party was tumbling down right in front of my eyes. I felt
my hopes and dreams dissipate into the oppressive atmosphere of
the militia camp.
Tears pooled into my eyes.
I gawked at the militia who were still chanting and pressing
forward. Why are they doing this? Are they doing it to prove their
loyalty to the same Derg that is sending them to war and getting
them killed by thousands? Are they making us responsible for all the
misery the Derg has brought upon them?
The administrator tried to mollify them saying we would be
handed over to them as soon as we were through with interrogation.
I was relieved when the two soldiers convoyed us back into the
room.
Emotionally drained, I fell asleep as soon as my back
touched the floor, despite the heartache, the pain on my right ann,
the few kicks and the slap that I had received from the older security
agent and the burning sensation on my lacerated knee. My knee was
hurt when I leapt out of the window of the doctor's house.
Around six in the evening, we were asked to come out on
the veranda again and stand facing the militia. There were also
military and police officers, district administrators, and cadres who
had come from as far as Yirgalem. In a formal speech, the
administrator of the province conjectured that the capture of twelve
"counter-revolutionaries" was a huge victory for the revolution.
The militiamen once again shouted slogans and pressed
forward 'only to be pushed back by soldiers. They were told once
again that we would be all theirs once we were done with the
investigation.
312 Tower in the sky

The soldiers untied our hands and allowed us to go to the

toilet one by one. When we came back, we were handcuffed, our
hands to the back, and were escorted to the two Land Rovers parked
in the compound. When the two Land Rovers left the compound,
the peasants banged the windows, hurled insults and wagged their index
fingers at us.
I was relieved once we exited the compound.
Not long after we started our journey to Addis, the Land
Rover I was in shook violently and almost slid to one side. I thought
it was going to rollover, killing us all. For a fraction of a second, I
regretted that the accident didn't happen. I was convinced we might
have been better off dying in a car accident than face gruesome
torture and execution.
I stared at the landscape through the window, unable to
make sense of what had happened to us all that day. My senses had
become numb. I looked at the comrades sitting facing me and
beside me. They all seemed lost in deep thought.
My stomach turned from side to side.
I was wearing a short-sleeved blouse and a skirt. My right
arm, the one I had a problem with, was so swollen I thought my
muscles were going to burst any minute. At some point, I asked one
of the cadres to please tear the sleeves off my blouse. He did, giving
me respite.
We reached the capital city around the middle of the night. I
thought we would be brought to one of those dreadful prisons: the
prison in the compound of the Derg headquarters (which is
commonly called the Derg office) or the Meakela wi Mirmera.
Instead, the car made a left tum at Nifasilk, by the Gotera, and
entered a villa compound. The first thing that I saw on our right was
forty to fifty young men huddled in the garage. In a fleeting second,
I realized that they were prisoners. The place was Kefitegna 19.
 Tower in the sky 313

The Derg had created Kefitegnas to centralize and manage

the activities of hundreds of Kebeles. Every Kefitegna had a number
of Kebeles under its jurisdiction, and many of these Kebeles and all
of the Kefitegnas had prisoners in their custody.

Once we got off the Land Rovers, we were steered into the villa.
We settled on the cement floor and were given pen and paper to
write our statements. I wrote that my name was Senait Hailu and
had come from Assela (from the province of Arsi), which is about
175 kilometers from Addis and 60 to 70 kilometers from Kuyera, to
seek medical treatment at the hospitaL
I had gone to Assela a couple of times before the revolution.
On one of my trips, I had stayed for over three weeks at my
maternal uncle's, a police officer, and had just been transferred
from Massawa. I thought I would be able to say a few things about
the town if I had to. I didn't have to worry about making up an
illness. I wrote that I was on my way to the hospital when I noticed
the raid, and I was so frightened I went into the first house I came
across. I didn't know what else to say for being in the house at the
time of the roundup.
When we were done, some of us were directed to the
independent service quarters in the back of the villa. They told me
to come into a room, which was, in fact, a torture chamber. I had to
stand at the door and watch the doctor being tortured.
The chamber had all sorts of torture paraphernalia devised
by the ingenious human brain. It was dimly lit, and the older
security agent and a cadre were busy hoisting the doctor on wooden
poles. They blindfolded him and gagged his mouth with a rag. Then
I saw a swinging baton violently falling and rising on his feet.
Occasionally, the older security agent would loosen the rag on the
doctor's mouth and ask him to tell the truth. Unable to watch, I
314 Tower in the sky

closed my eyes, forgetting that was the reason they made me stand
there. I then let my eyes wander in the ominous room.
Finally, they untied the doctor and two men carried him
outside. I had the chance to look at his blue and inflated feet when
they took him past me. The security agent then beckoned me over.
"Do you want to tell the truth or go through what you just
saw?" He glared at me when I stood in front of him.
"I have already told the truth in my statement," I said
calmly.
He nodded to the cadre and before I knew it I was hanging
on the poles upside down, my feet tied with a rope. They
blindfolded me and gagged my mouth with the same rag that the
doctor was gagged with. The same cadre beat me with a yellow
rubber pipe. He would stop beating me for a few minutes and the
security agent would untie the cloth on my mouth and ask me to tell
the truth and I would say I had already told him and the cadre would
resume his beating.
The worst part of it was when the security agent chocked me
for a few seconds. Just when I thought I was going to pass out, he
would remove his hand and then ask me to tell the truth. I stuck to
my story. When I was finally led out of the room, Mesekerem, the
wife of the doctor was called in.
Those of us who were tortured were told to walk barefoot on
the cemented ground outside. It was the most painful sensation I
had ever experienced. A couple of Abyot Tebakis sauntered around
us, rifles on their shoulders, to ensure we moved along. Since I
couldn't take the pain any longer, I squatted to take a few minutes
break. "Keep walking!" one of the Abyot Tebakis shouted. I stood
up. "Keep walking!" I heard someone else yell, and the next thing I
knew was receiving a huge slap on my right cheek. I thought it was
 Tower in the sky 315

from another Abyot Tebaki. It was the older security agent. He had
come out of nowhere. He really hates me.
They led us back to the villa. Mekonen, the girl who notified
us of the roundup in Kuyera and I were taken into a room. There
were a few girls sleeping on the floor. They sat up when we came in
and offered us a gabi. Mekonen took off his light blue jacket and
gave it to me. I folded it and put it under my head. The three of us
shared the gabi to cover ourselves and we lay down on the bare
cement floor. My feet hurt badly when I stretched my legs. It had
been a long and grueling day. Instantly, I fell asleep.

I opened my eyes when I heard someone shout, "Make sure the

Shashemene group stays in!" I looked around and tried to figure out
where I was. Then I saw girls across the room getting dressed in a
hurry. I remembered that they were the ones who gave us the gabi
the previous night. I saw Mekonen sleeping beside me. I felt pain on
my feet and remembered the beatings. I am in jail!
It was five in the morning and prisoners had to go out for
their daily compulsory exercise. A cadre came into the room and
told us that the three of us should not come out. I wondered where
the rest of the comrades were..
"How are your feet?" Mekonen asked, looking at me
sideways.
"Okay," I said, trying to cover them with the gabi.
"It is amazing how fast you fell asleep," he said, smiling and
shaking his head.
I forced a smile and went back to sleep.
The girls offered us breakfast later In the morning.
Mekonen, the girl and I headed out to meet the rest of the
Shashemene group, as we were referred to. We went to the back of
the villa where we found them sitting in a circle outside. I noticed a
316 Tower in the sky

beautiful young woman, Konjit, talking to Meskerem, the doctor's

wife. I leamed she was one of the nurses in whose house I sought
refuge in Kuyera. She had come to Addis Ababa the night before we
were arrested and had been brought in that morning.
There were twelve rooms in the service quarters and were all
filled up with prisoners. There were hundreds of them outside, some
strolling and others sitting and chatting. There was absolute silence
when the radio announced (through a speaker tied onto the office
window) that twelve "counter-revolutionaries were apprehended the
previous day in Kuyera." We, the Shashemene group, looked at one
another in surprise. Around mid-morning, we were summoned to
the office and asked to give our statements once again.
I did not change my story.

One morning, about a week after we were brought in, I was in room
#3 when I heard someone callout, "Senait Hailu!" Limping out, I
was told to come to the office. At the front of the villa, I saw the girl
'who had warned us about the raid and a young boy, also arrested
with us, standing beside a Land Rover. The older security agent and
Muluneh, one of the cadres who had come to Shashemene the day
we were arrested and had tortured the doctor, his wife and me, were
with them. Muluneh motioned to me to come. I went up to him.
He told me that I was released and that they were taking me
back to Kuyera. It was too good to be true. I was not prepared for
such an early and easy exit and didn't know how to react. I didn't
have to go back to the donn since I had no possessions of any kind.
"Get in the back," cadre Muluneh called out to the three of us,
pointing to the Land Rover. Just when I was about to climb in the
vehicle, the older security agent said, "I have changed my mind.
This girl is staying. The others can go."
 Tower in the sky 317

"Why? Didn't we agree she was to be released?" asked

Muluneh.
"I don't believe a word she has told us. I have a feeling she
is not telling the truth," he said, looking at me with hostility.
"I told the truth. I don't know any of those people," I
protested. His eyes told me that his decision was final.
"Please let me go," I pleaded.
"You will go through another round of interrogation and if
you are innocent, I will drive you back to Kuyera. For now these
two can go." He closed the back door of the truck after the girl and
the boy.
The girl and the boy were released because they had stated
in their statements that they were personal servants of the doctor. I
went back to my room, brooding on the missed opportunity.
Getting released was not going to he so easy, after all. The
next morning or the morning after, Mekonen signaled to me when I
came out of room #3. He was sitting outside with Taye and Agere.
"It is over," Agere said when I sat on the lawn. Agere was a student
at Leul Mekonen Secondary School and a political science major at
Haile Selassie I University. He was one of the earliest recruits of
Abyot and had worked in Wolayita before the merger of Abyot and
EPLO. He was a straight-A student from high school to university.
He had an exceptional sense of humor. In the sophomore year, he
was one of the few theoreticians on Marxist theory on campus. In
third-year, he was in the executive of USUAA congress. He was
arrested in February 1972, by the Haile Selassie government and
held in the Meakelawi and in the Kolfe and Gibe (Boater) camps for
about 6 months. He went to Woldya to teach after he was released.
He returned to campus in 1974, but went to Dejen (in the province
of Gojjam) for Zemecha.
"What is over?" I asked.
318 Tower in the sky

"They know everything," Mekonen said.

"How do they know? What happened?" I asked, shifting my
eyes from one to the other.
"They have been told by one of the comrades brought with
us. He is in the office right now. He was there last night, too," said
Taye. Taye was a university student and had gone to Shimeles
Habte in high school, He was president of the Students' Council at
the school. He was also a member of the Students' Council of
Councils representing his school. The Council of Councils was formed
in 1970.
Minutes later, they summoned us to the office. Zerihoun, the
lead cadre of the Kefitegna, told us that they are trying to handle our
case "democratically," and that we should cooperate for our own
sake. The security agents from the Meakelawi would like us
transferred to the prison at the Derg office. Going there would mean
undergoing severe torture and much more. Later, they let us go so
that we could mull over what we had been told.
The next morning, we were all called back to the office and
asked to give our statements anew. So our identities had become
known. Berhanu, one of the cadres, led me into an office and
pointed to a pen and paper neatly placed on the desk. I sat on one of
the chairs and began writing down my confession. There was
nothing to confess. Before I was arrested, I always prayed to die
instantly before I betrayed anyone. The idea of giving up my
comrades was what really worried me whenever I thought of going
to jail.
But this time, there wasn't anything to give up. Almost
everybody I had worked with was either in prison, dead or had fled.
I hadn't worked in Kuyera or in the South, so I had no knowledge of
what was going on. It was my first time to meet all the IZ members
brought in with me except for Merid, whom I met upon arrival in
 Tower in the sky 319

Kuyera. I had never met the rest of the people except for the doctor
and his wife. They occasionally came to the doctor's (my host in
Kuyera) house, but I had never been to their house before the
meeting date and never knew they were involved with the EPRP.
My detention hadn't even given me the chance to see for
myself if I had the resources to withstand torture. I knew that what I
had gone through the night I arrived was just a slap on the wrist
compared to the horrendous torture many were subjected to. The
cadre was sitting across the desk and watching me write, when the
phone rang. He jumped to his feet, walked over to a desk in the
comer and answered it.
"Hello! Yes sir! We've started working with them, sir. Right
now, I am in the middle of taking the statement of one of the girls.
Sir, I don't think they need to be transferred at this point. If there
are some who do not cooperate, we will definitely move them there.
Yes, the security here is very tight, sir. Don't worry, sir. We watch
them carefully. No, they have not yet notified their families, sir. We
make sure that they won't until the investigation is completed. Yes,
sir, I understand that," he said, a thin line of sweat running down his
temple.
"The comrade was a high ranking Derg member. He wants
you all transferred to the prison at the Derg office. I assured him
you are cooperating. I hope you will, for your own sake. If you
don't, it is going to be bad for you and for us too," Berhanu said.
Soon after, the girl and the boy who had been released were
brought back with a few more girls, perhaps from Wolayita and
Shashemene. The boy and the girl would eventually be released
again, a couple of months later.
The day after I gave my statement, I was outside sitting on
the steps of room #3 when I noticed someone trying to get my
attention through the office window. It was an older man, one of the
320 Tower in the sky

Kefitegna officials I had seen in the office during my interrogation.

I pulled to my feet and went to the office. He was the only one there
and asked me to have a seat He handed me a pencil and a red
cardboard. I stared at him, not understanding.
"I want you to draw the youth organization structure.
Actually, that is not what I called you for," he said.
I looked at him with questioning eyes.
"If someone comes in, you have to pretend you are drawing
the League structure. You know...1 feel sorry for you," he said,
looking me in the eye with a touching sympathy.
"Why?"
"Because I know they are going to kill you. I hear what they
say about you and your friends. I know you are not allowed to
notify your family about your arrest until you are through with the
interrogation, but I want to help. Call your parents and let them
know you are here. Remember if somebody comes in, you are
drawing the youth organization structure." He pushed the phone
toward me.
"Thank you, but no. I want them to forget about me and live
their lives. I know they have suffered the past few years because of
me and I don't want them to suffer more."
"You fool, it is even worse for them not to know what has
happened to you. You should call them and let them know you are
here. Do you think they will forget you just like that?" he said,
snapping his thumb and middle-finger.
He went on, "Don't be so cruel. It is much better for them to
know you are dead than wonder what had happened to you for the
rest of their lives. Hurry up! What is the number? I will dial it for
you. Tell me the number please before somebody shows up."
I gave it to him reluctantly.
 Tower in the sky 321

"Here, it is ringing," he said, handing me the receiver and a

smile of encouragement crossing his face.
"Hello!" It was my sister Almaz.
I almost hung up on her. "Etete!"
"Hiwot! Where are you?"
"I am in ... I am in prison."
"Oh, which prison? When were you arrested?"
"About ten days ago. I am at Kefitegna 19. It is by the
Gotera"
"I will be right there."
I hung up the phone and stared at the older man.
"God bless you. Now I am relieved. I felt so sorry for you
ever since I heard about your case. I wish I had never seen you. I
will always remember you. I will pray to God to save your life. You
have touched my heart. Now go. Keep this to yourself. I have a
family to take care of: I know I can count on you. Be brave and
believe in God. He will look after you," he said with a heart-
wrenching s-ympathy.
"Thank you so much and trust me I won't let you down," I
said with a lump in my throat.
He came over, grabbed my hand, blessed me and wished me
good luck one more time. Just when I was about to go, a cadre came
in. I had no idea who he was. I looked at the older man who was
standing and staring at me. He winked at me and looked down at the
cardboard. I seated myself back on the chair, picked up the pencil
and started drawing the Youth League structure. The cadre went to
another room, came, stood behind me, and watched what I was
doing. The older man went back and sat down on his chair.
He said to the cadre with a nelVOUS smile, "It is the youth
organization structure - you see? That was how they divided the
city. Isn't it amazing?"
322 Tower in the sky

The man did not seem to understand. He listlessly stared at

the red cardboard and without saying a word. A few minutes later
Muluneh came in, his Kalashnikov dangling from his shoulder. He
came over and looked on silently.
"She is drawing the youth organization structure," the older
man said with a feigned excitement.
I felt sorry for him for desperately trying to cover up what
he has done earlier. Muluneh was impressed. When I was done, he
picked up the cardboard from the desk and told us that he was going to
paste it on the wall. He was asking for a tape when I slipped out.
I went back to room #3 thinking about my family. What I
did was wrong. I shouldn't have made that call. It would have been
better for them not to know. There are so many families who don't
know what had happened to their sons and daughters.
My family had been through an ordeal because of my
illness, and in the past year and a half I had caused them much fear
and anxiety by running away from home. The last thing I wanted
was to make them suffer more. I became morose and lay down. A
few minutes later, I heard a girl asking for me. I ran out and found
her carrying plastic containers, a thermos, clothes and a pair of flip-
flops. She was on duty to deliver food that day.
"It is from your sister. She sends her regards," she said.
"Tell her I am doing fine," I said, taking the clothes from
her. She brought the food and the thermos to room #12. I was
assigned in room #12, but I went there only in the evening to sleep
since my two friends, Meskerem, the doctor's wife, and Konjit, the
beautiful nurse, were in room #3.
I ran to room #12 and immediately changed into jeans, a top
and a brown sweater. They were clothes that I had left behind when
I had walked out in September 1976. It felt good to have something
to change into. I was tired of borrowing clothes and washing mine
 Tower in the sky 323

at night. I had no shoes either (I had lost my flip-flops the day I was
arrested) and walked barefoot and put on-somebody's flip-flops from
the pile at the door to go to the toilet.
I came back from room #12 and sat at my usual spot: on the
doorstep of.room #3. I sensed someone watching and saw the older
security agent peering through the office window. Moments later, I
saw him coming toward me. Every time he came to our quarter,
girls would tell me to hide since he had made it a habit of either
kicking me with his boots or slapping me on the face for no reason.
He looked furious and walked faster than usual, his chest puffed up
and swinging his arms violently. He came over, kicked me with his
boot on my legs, and barked, "Where did you get those clothes?"
I did not respond. I simply stared at him.
"Tell me where you got those clothes! Come to the office.
Actually, bring your belongings with you. You are going to the
Derg office," he growled.
I went to room #12, grabbed the plastic bag that contained
the few clothes my sister had sent, and followed him to the office.
There were several cadres in the office chatting noisily. The older
man, who made the phone call, was among them.
The agent demanded, "Tell me how you got those clothes.
How did you manage to inform your family about your arrest?" He
then turned to the head cadre, Zerihoun, and screamed, "If this is
how the Shashemene group is being handled, I should report the
matter to the authorities and have them all transferred to the Derg
office. How can we continue with the investigation if they alert their
people and help them escape or hide or destroy evidence? The hell
with your idea of democratic method! What these people need is a
good beating."
I saw the old man through the comer of my eye. His eyes
implored me.
324 Tower in the sky

"Do we have any evidence that she had informed her

family? Hiwot have you informed your family?" Zerihoun asked.
"No, how would 1 inform them?"
The agent roared, "Where did you get those clothes then?
You have been wearing the same thing since you got here. All of a
sudden you show up.in wrangler and fancy slippers?"
I didn't say a word, which seemed to make him even more
furious.
"I know she won't say anything. Why would she? -She
knows nothing is going to happen to her. She is being handled
democratically," he said sarcastically.
There was clearly antagonism between the security agents
and the cadres. The agent came over and struck me on the face,
saying, "Follow me; I am taking you to the Derg office."
"You can't. She is under the authority of this Kefitegna. It is
the chair of the Kefitegna or I who have authority here. You need an
authorization letter from the Derg office if you want to take her
away," said Zerihoun firmly.
The security agent came over and hit me on the face again
so hard that I became dizzy for a second.
"Please stop it. We will investigate the matter," Zerihoun
said visibly upset. He then turned to me and said, "You can go back
now. Please respect the rules for your own sake."

About a week or so after our real identities were known, I was told
that I had a visitor. I limped to the gate and saw Azeb's mother
outside the prison compound. I was excited to see her. We were
standing too far apart to hear each other. I asked after Azeb and she
nodded indicating that she was doing fine. I didn't know how she
had found out I was in jail. It was only afterwards that I learned it
was Azeb who had asked her to come and visit me.
 Tower in the sky 325

A month or less after I was arrested and two weeks after

Azeb's mother came to visit me, Tayech, a former EPRP member,
asked me to come to the toilet with her. As soon as we went in, she
put her arms around me, tears streaming down her cheeks.
"What happened?" I asked, getting alarmed.
"Azeb Ginna has been executed!"
For a moment, I didn't know where I was. We cried on each
other's shoulders. We wiped our tears and went back to room #3.
Meskerem, the doctor's wife, knew that Azeb and I were friends
and didn't know how to break the sad tidings to me. Tayech must
have heard of Azeb's execution from her.
I cried all that night. I remembered everything Azeb and I
did together. Even though we had never worked together, we were
inseparable and had shared so many things. I closed my eyes and
thought of the ordeal she must have endured. I remembered her
courage and determination, which I had heard so much about. Her
sincerity and innocence came back to me. I could see her shy smile.
I could feel her pushing me away when I leaned on her sitting in a cab.
She was the sensible one in our group on campus, holding us
back every time we crossed the line. Her sense of responsibility and
discipline was unparalleled. The image of her walking in front of
the Post office kept coming again and again. That was the last time I
saw her.
I thought of Semegne and Getachew. Oh my God! They are
all gone. The pain became unbearable. The only solace was that I
was going to join them soon. It was about a month since I'd been
arrested and I didn't believe I was going to last long.
I kept crying under my blanket and couldn't sleep for
several nights. I dragged myself through the days that followed,
wondering when some of us would be executed or simply expire
under torture. I wondered if Sara and Kidist had learned about
326 Tower in the sky

Azeb's death. I didn't even know if Sara was still in prison. I later
learned that she was released after a x~ar. Kidist had her second
child, a boy, around the time I was arrested.
I had no doubt in my mind, until I was brought in to the
Kefitegna, that what we had started would continue no matter what
the obstacles. I had believed that our goal had a linear progression,
which could not be stopped no matter how bumpy the road was.
Tossed in prison, I realized our project had failed, our comrades
were wiped out, and our very lives were hanging on a thin thread.
I found out the hard way that the Party had not only made
grave errors, but had at the time been totally quashed. How it could
have been vanquished so quickly and easily was beyond my grasp.
Where did we go wrong? It started so beautifully; but what
happened? Didn't the Party claim victory was ours ...that it would
turn its enemies into dust? Where did all that might go? My dreams
were shattered, my heart throbbed with grief, and my mind became
numb with disillusionment.
Only my spirit struggled to persevere.
 Tower in the sky 327

Man never made any material as resilient as the human spirit.

-Bernard Williams

Even though executions and torture were meant to break: our spirits,
we survived daily tensions through a variety of ploys. It wasn't just
what was taking place at Kefitegna 19 that created suspense and
nervousness but also lurid accounts of torture and executions at
other prisons and Kefitegnas.
Kefitegna 19 was originally a villa. It belonged to a feudal
lord, Dejazmach Kebede Bizunesh, a war hero during the Italian
occupation and executed by the Derg in the western part of the
country, in Jibat ena Mecha. He had been fighting against the Derg
and was killed in action.
There were close to four hundred prisoners at the Kefitegna,
almost all of whom were EPRP members or suspected members.
The Derg had shifted its fury to Meison after it had cleaned the
country of EPRP. Most of the new prisoners, jailed after we were
brought in, were either Meison members or others who had no
political affiliation. One day, even a sorcerer was brought in,
accused of duping people. There were also those thrown in for
contraband arms sales. The illegal arms trade flourished in those
days, the network extending from Addis to Ogaden, in the eastern
part of the country.
The Kefitegna compound was spacious. The service quarters
had about ten individual rooms filled with prisoners, except for
room #8, which was the torture chamber. Torture later took place in
one of the rooms in the villa. Room #1 used to be a traditional
kitchen with clay hearths. Room #12 is a kitchen inside the villa. It
adjoined the dining room turned office. There were on average
twenty-five prisoners in each room. The garage had the most
number of prisoners, about 40 or so. Women occupied rooms #2, #3
and #12.
328 Tower in the sky

Room # 12 was the cleanest and brightest There was a

bathroom past the kitchen, where the four of us slept, as there was
not enough room in the kitchen. We used the bathroom only for
sleeping. The pipe below the sink leaked and we had to get up
several times in the middle of the night to fold our blankets and
gabis, as the water threatened to wet our beddings. Oftentimes, we
found a blanket or a gabi drenched in water. It was only after a few
girls were released that we moved into the kitchen.
Torture was routine at Kefitegna 19. Some of the cadres, like
Muluneh, were experts in the trade and were sought after when new
prisoners were brought in. There was this EPRP member, Tesfaye
Kebede, whose feet looked horrendous with charred flesh and deep
wounds from beatings and burning at another Kefitegna (perhaps at
Kefitegna 15). They had sprinkled gasoline over his feet and ignited
them. They said he had never given in to the brutal torture. He
couldn't walk and room-mates carried him out and back in his
room. He gradually started walking with a cane. Of all the prisoners
I had met at Kefitegna 19, he was the one who had really touched
my heart. He was quiet and smiled all the time despite his horrific
mjunes.
It was not only political prisoners who resisted torture and
protected their "comrades-in-arms." This older man, taken in for
contraband arms sales, was tortured like no other. Fellow prisoners
asked him why he would not give up names instead of going
through all that. He told them that it was "un-Christian" to give up a
fellow human being. His torturers finally gave up, unable to force a
word out of his mouth and later released him.
Death was a constant threat, but we were not paralyzed by
the fear of it. We did chores, chatted, laughed, loved, hated, played,
and read. The only time it showed its power over us was when a
cadre or a Meakelawi agent came to a donn and asked to light a
 Tower in the sky 329

candle in the middle of the night. Except for rooms #8 and #12,
none of the dorms had electricity. When cadres or security agents
came in the dead of night, everybody sat up and watched with an
unnerving silence. The question on everybody's mind was, "Would
I be the one to go tonight?" The cadre or cadres may have come to
drop off a new prisoner or they were simply drunk and were making
a "round" in the middle of the night, sending waves of terror across
dorms.
Another spine-chilling moment was when we heard cars
coming into the compound at witching hours. We would be at our
wits' end, thinking they had come to take prisoners away for
execution. Often, the cadres were only coming back after a night
out, usually drunk.
Once, cadre Berhanu was going from donn to dorm late at
night when he stopped at the door of one of the men's dormitories.
Everybody instantly covered their heads with blankets, pretending
to be asleep. He stood at the door silently for a few minutes. One of
the prisoners poked his head out of the covers thinking he had gone.
Berhanu, tipsy as usual, commanded the prisoner to get up and
follow him to the torture room. He beat him, simply out of spite.
Since room #12 was adjacent to the office, we could hear
every move from the cadres. After the torture chamber moved
inside the villa, we even heard prisoners being tortured. Everybody
sat motionless, in torture jitters.
Samrawit was one of those people who was constantly
racked with these jitters. She was my dorm-mate and the daughter
of one of the richest men in the country. Samra and some friends,
also from wealthy families, were arrested during the mass
mobilization denunciation and self-denunciation frenzy, which took
place in Kebeles earlier.
330 Tower in the sky

When people were forced to denounce themselves and

others at a Kebele meeting, Samra and her friends had nothing to
say, for they had no political involvement. At the same time, they
worried they might be suspected of holding back. So they chose to
'confess' that they had read Teyik - inquire - a glossary of
revolutionary terms sold in bookstores. The cadres were so enraged
over what they thought was an indefeasible apathy they brought the
girls in so that they could be "enlightened." They kept them there
for about four months.
Samra was so terrified of being tortured she often flared up
when someone called her name at night.
"Samra!"
"Who is calling my name?" she would say, rolling her big eyes.
"It is me. Have you seen... T
"Why are you calling my name at night? I don't want
anybody calling my name at night!"
"She is scared of Megelbet" Someone would say. Megelbet
means to be hung upside down on a pole and be tortured.
"When they hear her name the cadres might remember that
they have to torture her," somebody else would say to tease her.
"Can you please keep it down? Don't you know that they
can hear you? I don't want to be called to the office at night. I don't
even want amorous moments at night, let alone being called to the
office," Samra would implore.
We enjoyed those Samra moments. They put smile on our faces.
Love was another potion that made news of executions from
other prisons and tortures at the Kefitegna bearable. Many were
paired and nestled together or took a walk. Some even went on a
date outside the prison compound, with the excuse of seeing a
doctor, if they were one of those prisoners whose cases were not
senous,
 Tower in the sky 331

The Kefitegna allowed many prisoners to go to school

during the day and come back in the evening. They took turns to go
home every Friday afternoon and came back Sunday evening. A
few older prisoners also went to work and returned before dusk.
During the day, most prisoners sat outside in small groups
and chatted or told jokes to lighten up the tense atmosphere. Some
walked up and down with friends. Most prisoners took their daily
walks around five in the afternoon. Others stayed inside and read
books.
Two male prisoners, whom we called police, were assigned
every day from each dormitory. At six in the evening, they clapped
their hands, which meant we had to go inside. Their main
responsibility was to make sure that everybody in each dorm used
the only toilet by eight o'clock. We were not allowed to go out after
that. If there was an emergency, we called the Abyot Tebakis.
The two "police" passed around cigarettes, books, tea, notes
and other items from room to room. Sunday was a busy night for
them. Some dorms had more goodies than others did, and boys and
girls sent them to their friends and sweethearts.
Volleyball was an important pastime for some. I had a
passion for it, and had played for my school in junior high. At the
Kefitegna, we bought a medium-sized latex ball for seventy-five
cents and played for hours.
Life at the Kefitegna was communal. We shared many
things, but each "house" had absolute ownership of all the food that
came in every day. There was not enough food to go around after
many prisoners were released. To mitigate the shortage of food,
every dorm designated two individuals to serve as its "Food
Committee." Food Committee members counted the number of
"dishes" that came in each day, and reported it to two prisoners who
would go from donn to dorm and get all the numbers. This was my
332 Tower in the sky

job for a while. These two individuals tallied the number of

"dishes" received and redistributed them to each dorm based on the
number of prisoners they housed. The Marxian maxim, from each
according to his ability, to each according to his needs was thus put
into practice.
The Food Committee also made tea in the morning, washed
cups, and raised money to buy bread for breakfast. After breakfast,
they took out the double folded blankets - mattresses were not
allowed - out into the sun and shook them well before they brought
them back in.
Other duties included keeping the cement floor swept and
mopped; no one entered the dorm with their shoes on. They also
received our lunches and returned empty containers. Around noon,
they served lunch. We sat on the floor in the middle of the room in
two or three groups and ate from large trays. After lunch, the Food
Committee washed the dishes and kept them apart, so that they
could be returned to the families the next day.
In the evening, they served dinner if there were any
leftovers. A few family members, who lived nearby, also brought
food in the afternoon. My sister and my cousin took turns to bring
mine every morning. My mother often came in the afternoon,
despite my insistence that she should not. She had to come all the
way from Semen Mazegajia and without fail told the prisoners who
received my food that she was just passing by and thought she
might as well drop off my supper.
That was her way of making sure that I was still alive.
Mandatory Marxism-Leninism sessions took place for two
hours every morning. Each dorm was provided with a handout on
the basics of Historical Materialism. The idea was to "raise" our
political consciousness. None of us liked these sessions. To begin
with, many of us were familiar with the literature. Most importantly,
 Tower in the sky 333

no one seemed to be interested in it any more. It was in a way a

reminder of our failed dream. There was this older woman called
Etiye Zenebu. She was accused of being involved in the teeming
contraband arms sales. After most of her roommates in room #2
were released, she came to room #3 to participate in the daily
Marxism-Leninism study sessions, which was meaningless as far as
she was concerned.
"Do you have a supplementary Etiye Zenebu?" the
chairperson asked her one day, while a discussion was going on.
"I have more important things to think about than worry
about your supplementary. I have four kids at home. I am concerned
that my ten-year old daughter will bum herself trying to cook for
her younger siblings. She asks me if I have a supplementary! You
are all good for nothings putting your parents into trouble. They go
to such lengths to bring food for you every day and all you do is sit
here adding and subtracting nonsense," she snarled.
We burst out into a roar of laughter. We were too immature
to understand her motherly concerns.
Afternoon sessions were torturous. It was singing time, and
almost all the "revolutionary" songs were denouncements of the
EPRP. A general assembly was also held in the garage once a week.
Questions that were not answered in each dorm during the
Marxism-Leninism sessions were brought to the general assembly
for discussion. Every so often, we organized "camp fire" (even
though there was no fire). Talented boys and girls performed skits,
sang songs or read poems. Those moments brightened our lives and
gave a sense of normalcy to the otherwise uncertain and often tense
situation.
When visitors came on Sunday, we stood a few steps away
from the gate and waved at them. If the Abyot Tebakis were kind
enough, we could have a quick look at them on a weekday, too. The
 334 Tower in the sky

Shashemene group was not allowed to enjoy this privilege for a

period of time.
Cadres and officers trooped into the Kefitegna to have a
glimpse of the most famous member of the Shashemene group:
Mekonen Bayisa. He was the highest-ranking Party member in their
hands at the time, and cadres from the Political School or other
Kefitegnas and even some military officers (perhaps Derg members)
came to see him. I was often called in with him on such occasions.
They would say, "Is this Mekonen's secretary?" They spoke as if I
were Mekonen's personal secretary just because they had heard that
I was a member of the sub-Secretariat office in the Party structure.
The Shashemene group was inspirational to many prisoners.
Some of the members of the group were high-ranking Party
members and the rank-and-file looked for opportunities to hear from
them about the Party and the League.
Mekonen, in particular, was highly regarded by the
prisoners. He had been a charismatic president of the Students'
Council at Leul Mekonen High School in Addis Ababa when he
was in grade eleven. He was elected twice to the Students' Council
of Councils representing his school. He left for the Sudan in 1970
when the security was after him. He came back and in June 1971 he
went back, this time with Taye Merid, when the secret service
started looking for him again. He re-appeared in 1974, when the
revolution broke out.
It was years later that I learned that Getachew and Mekonen
knew each other, when the former was secretary ofUSUAA in 1970.
Mekonen was an Abyot member and had close relationship with
Getachew. Prisoners at the Kefitegna were often eager to sit and talk
with Mekonen because of his high position in the Party hierarchy
and his knowledge of history of the Party and the student
" movement.
That was not meant to last long.
 Tower in the sky 335

...people hastily accept whatever they have heard from their fathers and
shy away from critical examinations. But God created man to be the
master ofhis own actions, so that he can be whatever he wills to be.
-Zere Yakob, rr century Ethiopian philosopher

Even Zerihoun, the lead cadre instrumental in keeping us (the

Shashemene group) at the Kefitegna, didn't last long. One day, we
found out that he was executed. He was a member of Woz League,
one of the MarxistlLeninist organizations that had sprung up and
made a marriage of convenience with the Derg. The Derg had been
unleashing its fury on them as it earlier did on Meison.
I wondered if the "democratic" era was coming to an end.
A new cadre, Daniel, was assigned to the Kefitegna in place
of Zerihoun. Daniel was one of those EPRP members who had
"returned to the revolutionary camp." Many EPRP and Me ison
members were all the while switching organizations (some of them
more than once) in order to flee from the Derg's wrath. Malerid and
Seded (Mengistu's Party) were their last refuge until the fanner was
spurned by the Derg. Some of the tumed-Seded EPRP members
became cadres of many Kefitegnas.
Daniel held a one-on-one meeting with a few former
members of the EPRP in his office the day after he arrived at our
Kefitegna. I was one of those individuals called for the meeting.
When I went into his office, he greeted me flashing his snow-white
teeth and told me to sit in a chair across his desk.
"The reason I called you today is to gauge your
understanding of the Party's positions on issues ... such as the
Provisional Peoples Government, the nature of the Derg, United
Front and so on," he said.
The image of Getachew flickered before me. He had worked
so hard to ensure I had a clear idea of what was what. I answered
the questions as best I could and went back to my donn.
 Tower in the sky 337

reluctant to accept the task owing to the d.ifferent color it might be

given by the general prison population. Other prisoners came and
advised us to accept the appointment. "More than enough people
have died and we don't want any more to die," they reasoned.
A couple of days later, I went to Daniel's office to collect
the handout. He gave me a few days to prepare myself for the
meeting. Finally, the day I dreaded the most arrived. I hated
speaking in front of a group. I was the quietest even at 1Z meetings.
I installed myself on a chair in the middle of the garage,
surrounded by hundreds of fellow prisoners. I summed up the
content of the handout, which was a theoretical analysis of the
national question. It was also a critique of the Eritrean Liberation
Fronts' claim that the Eritrean question was a colonial question (i.e.,
that Ethiopia had colonized Eritrea), which raised the disquieting
issue for the Derg of the right of nations to self-determination, right
up to secession.
I kept saying the Eritrean tagayoch - fighters - instead of
tegentayoch - separatists - as they were referred to in the handout. I
was so much used to saying tagayoch I couldn't force out the word
tegentayoch. Every time I said tagayoch, I looked at Daniel from
the comer of my eye. He watched me, smiling. I then opened the
floor for discussion. To my relief, the discussion went smoothly.
That was the first and last time I chaired the meeting.

On March 21, a little over a week later and less than two months
since we had been arrested, Etiye Zenebu was standing at the door
of room #2 when she signaled me over. It was just after breakfast
and I wondered why she would call me. I had never talked to her.
"1 have good news for you," she said.
"What kind of good news?"
338 Tower in the sky

"I dreamt about you last night. It was such a vivid dream.
Everybody was lining up over there to make tea," she said, pointing
to the spot where we made tea on an improvised hearth. Each donn
took turns making tea in the morning at the wood fire. That was
before each dorm bought portable kerosene stoves.
"I saw you standing in line behind one of your friends," she
said.
"Mekonen?"
"I don't know his name. It is that one, the one wearing a
jacket." She pointed toward where Taye and Agere were sitting.
"His name is Taye."
"Your friend had made tea and was filling up his thermoses,
while you were waiting. When he was done, you picked up a pail
and were about to pour the water into the pot when I grabbed your
ann. I lifted up the pot from the hearth and threw out the tea that
you friend had left, washed the pot with soap and water and
splashed clean water into it and put it back on the hearth to boil."
I wasn't quite sure what she was getting at, but listened to
her, nevertheless.
"When I woke up, I was amazed by the mercy of God. I
said, 'God has saved this girl's life.' I have heard that your case is
serious. God has given you another chance at life. I am telling you, I
don't usually dream, but when I do, it always comes true. Your life
is spared. I threw out the old tea, washed the pot and poured clean
water into it. That is the beginning of a new life for you. Mark my
words!" she ended excitedly.
I thanked her and went back to my room. I didn't think much
of the dream.
Around five o'clock, we were all told to go inside. I went to
room #12 and dashed to the bathroom window, along with a few
girls, to watch what was going on behind the house. We saw two
 Tower in the sky 339

men, who looked like security agents, heading toward the prisoners'
quarters, accompanied by Daniel. One of them was wearing a navy
blue T-shirt.
They went door to door calling names. Nine prisoners were
called out. They were Taye Mend, Agere Miheretu, Merid
Gebrechristos, Fatuma Ali, Meseret Lemma, Tesfaye Kebede (the
one badly tortured at another Kefitegna), and three other prisoners
whose names I did not know. Everybody knew what that meant.
The first three were members of the Party IZ Committee in southern
Ethiopia. Meseret, who was in her teens, was the youngest among
them. I saw Fatuma coming out of room #3 twirling a green scarf
over her head. She was a member of the Shashemene group brought
in after us.
I couldn't stand there and watch all that. It was so painful.
Then it occurred to me that I too might be called out! I took off the
green scarf twined around my hip, threw it over my shoulders, went,
and stood quietly beside the hand-washing sink. The girls were still
looking through the window and suddenly they lowered their heads
down whispering, "They are coming to our dorm! They are
coming!"
We scurried to the kitchen and sat on the folded blankets on
the floor. The two men and Daniel came and paused at the foot of
the stairs. My eyes darted from the stocky man with the navy blue
T-shirt to his colleague. Their sinister eyes were fixed on us sending
out a whirl of terror in the dorm. Daniel was standing behind them,
head down.
I was the only candidate there as all of the girls were rank-
and-file members of the League or have been thrown in for
practically nothing. But the authorities were unpredictable. I
expected to hear my name any minute. I was numb, unable to think
of anything. I knew the end had finally arrived, but couldn't even
340 Tower in the sky

make out my feelings. My head felt light and empty. I sat there
frozen like everybody else.
What seemed like an end.less stare lasted only a few instants
forcing upon us an unbearable suspense. All of a sudden, the men
turned around and headed to the office. Everybody was relieved.
Many even shed tears of joy. At least, for that day, none of us had
been taken away, Some girls came over and kissed me for being
spared. But the tears of joy and relief were short-lived. We
remembered the less fortunate ones. We cried quietly. I suddenly
remembered Etiye Zenebu's dream. Oh my God! Taye is taken
away!
I was astounded.
The next morning, news of the nine prisoners came. They
had all been shot and their bodies displayed in the streets! It was a
horrendous and atrocious day. Some of us were not able to sleep
after the prisoners were taken away that evening, and had heard
several gunshots at night in the vicinity. It had never occurred to us
that the nine prisoners were killed so close to where they have been
held. We were told to stay in that morning and were not even
allowed to cry; we had to hide our tears. We sat in the dorm with
sullen faces and bloodshot eyes.
News of the slaughtered prisoners spread far and wide.
Parents flocked to the prison. They demanded to see their children.
We heard women wailing. Family members by then knew what it
meant when the Abyot Tebakis refused to accept a prisoner's food
from a visitor. It meant that the prisoner had been killed Of, if lucky,
transferred to another prison. It was a desperate moment for the
family members crying and sobbing that day, suspecting the worst.
Only one woman saw her son. She was screaming and
wailing and the Abyot Tebakis were unable to manage her. The
cadres finally gave in. When the boy came out to wave to his
 Tower in the sky 341

mother, she ululated. In the afternoon, they told him to come to the
gate again. When he returned, he brought a new shirt with him. His
mother had bought him a new shirt for defying death! Everybody
awkwardly smiled despite the sadness.
My mother brought my lunch that morning and was in line
when she heard about the execution. Her hands shook and the lunch
containers slipped off when she heard that one of the girls, whose
body was thrown in one of the streets, wore a green scarf. Helpless,
she ran to call my sister Almaz at work.
The previous day, I was doing the dishes under a pipe in the
front yard of the villa and had waved at my mother when I saw her
standing a few meters away from the gate. I had a green scarf
draped around my hip.
She and my sister found out right away that I was not among
the slain prisoners. They came in the afternoon with my aunt,
anyway. The girl who brought my supper to the donn told me that
they wanted me to send them something that would prove to them
that I was still alive. I gave her a green food container telling her it
belonged to my aunt. That was how they knew for sure that I had
survived the execution.
The prisoners' death had made my own imminent; I knew it
was only a matter of time before I drank from its cup with my
departed comrades. Death was no longer the existential horror that
shattered 'our everyday world.' Its banality had dulled my senses.
I awaited my fate with a come what may attitude.
Days after the execution of the nine prisoners, the gloom
that hung over the compound started to give way and a semblance
of normalcy set in. But another tragedy struck. One afternoon,
Tayech (the girl who told me about the execution of Azeb) asked
me once again to follow her to the toilet. I was trembling with panic
walking behind her. She threw her arms around my shoulders
342 Tower in the sky

sobbing as soon as she closed the door behind her. She told me that
Askale Nega was dead. She took the cyanide hidden in her collar
when she was apprehended. It was indeed a very sad moment.
Azeb and I had become friends with Asku during the Zemecha. The
last time I saw her was at the apartment in Piassa the day those
safety pins were scattered on the floor.

Soon after came the day that changed the trajectory of my life.
Daniel called an early morning meeting. We had to go straight to the
garage after our morning exercise. I wondered what it was about.
They forced us out every day at five in the morning to the
front yard for the most hated drill. Muluneh rudely awakened us
banging the door and barking "Wake up!" Women were given
special consideration during their periods, but we used that excuse
as often as we could get away with sleeping in. "How often do you
have your periods... every week?" grumbled Muluneh. After
exercising, we lined up and chanted a few slogans to condemn our
enemies and ourselves.
"Down with feudalism!"
"Down with imperialism!"
"Down with EPRP!"
"Anti-revolutionaries will be vanquished!"
Daniel was standing at the edge of the crowd when I got to
the garage. Another cadre, Berhanu, stood beside him. Mekonen
Bayisa, bundled in a gabi, got up to speak. He gave an analysis of
Fascism and said that the Party had made a theoretical error when it
said that Fascism had reigned in a country like ours. He said that he
held that view even before his incarceration. A huge commotion
ensued and Mekonen was bombarded with questions.
Some of the prisoners asked, "How is it that those of you at
the top hierarchy of the Party believed that the Derg was not Fascist
 Tower in the sky 343

but convinced us that it was and had us hoist banners, distribute

leaflets and hold demonstrations and got us killed and imprisoned in
thousands?" They asked him why he did not leave the Party if he
did not believe in its position on an issue as important as this one.
Mekonen sat poised and responded to the questions, at times
smiling. He said he did not see the need for leaving the Party but
had tried to make his view heard through the proper channels. He
said, "There are people in other prisons who have worked with me
in committees and they can testify to that. You might think I'm
saying all this to save my neck, but believe me I have no illusions
about that."
Nothing could abate the fire that erupted in the crowd. When
the meeting ended, people broke into small groups and engaged in
heated discussions. "Did you know he held such views?" a couple
of prisoners asked me, while I was walking toward room #3. "No, I
did not. It wouldn't have mattered if I did. It is his right to hold any
view. I knew people who said the same thing," I responded.
As of that day, a very funny thing happened in the
compound: Mekonen became an outcast. Many had lived by the
words that came out of his mouth. Besides his top position in the
Party, he was an eloquent speaker with a ready smile and a
handsome face. Girls particularly worshipped him. After that
famous speech, he was not only unseated from his pedestal but also
dubbed "opportunist," which was totally insupportable.
I maintained my friendship with him, over the concerns of
some of the other prisoners. Soon, I too became excommunicated.
What Mekonen and I called a clique was created in the prison
compound that mobilized the prisoners against us.
I was very popular among the general membership of the
League. It was like high schools days for me. I laughed, played
volleyball and took a walk, rain or shine, with many League
344 Tower in the sky

members. I felt I was sixteen again, forgetting that death was

hovering over my head.
After Mekonen's speech, many avoided me like they did
Mekonen because they would be cast out off the community for
talking to me. I had moved earlier to room #3, where all the ardent
female EPRP members were. The girls were also members of the
clique created in the prison compound.
Interestingly enough, the issue of chairmanship, forgotten
after the death of Taye, was retroactively taken up to support some
of the accusations against us. Mekonen chaired his first and last
meeting a week after I did, a few days before the nine prisoners
were killed. In fact, the Marxist-Leninist sessions in the dorms and
at the general assembly had been held off after the execution. The
general assembly since then had focused on "campfires" and
performances,
To my mind, the comrades were not vexed because they felt
they were misled. They were incensed because Mekonen had
spoken the unspeakable. He had uttered the taboo word: mistake!
He had said publicly that the Party had erred. Blasphemer! The
Party could not make a mistake! Even if it did, one should not say it
in public, not even to oneself.
The Party had indeed made a mistake, as pointed out by
Getachew, Berhanemeskel and others. They had warned of the
danger and tragic consequences of embarking on the path of urban
guerrilla warfare. We had seen the truth of their words in a very
short time at that.
I had never heard anyone mention the names of Getachew,
Abiyu, Endreas, Bekri and Getachew Assefa, all killed by the Party.
It was as if these people had never existed. Talking about them
would have been as much a sacrilege as saying the Party was
mistaken. The prisoners were all of one mind on this (though some
 Tower in the sky 345

of them wouldn't have known who they were), silently echoing the
chorus in Agamemnon.
The rest I did not see,
Nor do I speak ofit.
It was all about the Party, not about the revolution, the future
of the country or the thousands of its members who had perished in the
blink of an eye.
But Berhanemeskel Redda, Getachew Maru, Abiyu Ersamo,
Endreas Mikael, Getachew Assefa, Bekri Mohamed and others who
spoke out should have been credited for their courage and
clairvoyance. They may have lost their lives, but when they fell,
they were the victors.
I too had difficulty accepting the idea that the Party could
err. Even Getachew believed that comrades had erred, not the Party.
As Matheos Abera, Getachew's friend, once told me, "Getachew
believed that the Party was good. It was comrades who had made a
mistake." Only two days after I was arrested, I remember cringing
in horror and shame when one of the comrades remarked at the
general assembly, "EPRP is responsible for the death of so many
young people." I thought that even the slightest questioning of the
Party would have somehow lessened my dedication. Earlier on, I
had compartmentalized Getachew and the Party and did not do or
say anything to rectify the situation.

I was a member of the Entertainment "committee" in the good old

days. That was around the time I moved in room #3. Lemlem, a
former EPRP member, and I were the "committee" members.
Sunday night, we made tea on a coal brazier and served it with
whatever desert we happened to get that day. Our role was to
entertain the "house." We had people tell jokes or stories or had
them solve puzzles. After the excommunication, I saw no reason to
346 Tower in the sky

cheer up my former comrades. I restricted my responsibilities to that

of making tea.

It was a Sunday afternoon in July 1978. I heard the girls (the clique
members) whispering that the wife of one of the Central Committee
members of Meison was being interrogated in the office. We had
heard that the Derg had killed her husband outside of Addis almost
a year ago. That night, Lemlem and I had just put the cups and the
brazier away and gone to bed when someone pushed the door open.
That was a most dreaded moment It might mean for a prisoner to
go and vanish from the face of the earth. We peeked our heads out
of our blankets to see who was at the door. "Light a candle!" a
cadre yelled. A couple of girls got up and scrambled to find a
candle. One of the cadres then made his entry into the room
carrying a woman in his arms. He put her on the floor close to the
door and left.
I knew she was the wife of the Meison leader. I immediately
got up and asked Lemlem to heat water. I went over and made the
woman lie down comfortably. Her feet were swollen and blue. I had
never seen anyone tortured the way she was in that Kefitegna. I
wondered why she had so many layers of clothing as I struggled to
remove them one by one. She was probably trying to run away, I
thought.
She threw up when we gave her tea. One of the girls, who
used to be her neighbor, got up finally to help me. She was a more
or less moderate follower of the clique. After cleaning the mess, I
soaked Emebet's feet in warm water, gave her a massage, and
rubbed them with Vaseline.
While all this was going OD, the girls interrogated the
traumatized woman about the whereabouts of her husband. Emebet
 Tower in the sky 347

did not know he had been killed! It was cruel, especially

considering the situation she was in.
I knew very well that what I had done that night for Emebet
was going to be taken against me. It was bad enough to stand by
Mekonen, but showing such humanness toward a Mesion was
unpardonable. Yet it would have been the ultimate betrayal of my
humanity had I not stepped up that night. Even then, I knew a
political person was a human being before he or she was a Meison
or an EPRP member. I shuddered at the behavior of my comrades.
Surely, there must be something that made them behave this way.
What was interesting was that day marked the development
of a close and lasting friendship between Emebet and me. I found
meaning and comfort in her sober outlook toward the political
differences between Meison and EPRP. She believed that both
organizations had made mistakes and that both lacked proper
leadership, which precipitated their downfall. Her great sense of
humor and wit was a fresh breath of air in the bleak atmosphere of
the Kefitegna. I also befriended other Meison members, which of
course, augmented my sins to unconscionable levels.
It took Emebet quite some time to walk on her own again.
She had suffered many slights in the donn, which she took with
maturity and equanimity. She was devastated when she later learned
of the death of her husband.
Her three kids (two boys and a girl) were staying with her
mother-in-law and came to visit her with their nanny a few days
after she was brought in. I went to the gate with her to see them.
Emebet, aghast, stood there speechless. They all appeared leaner to
her. She did not even recognize the youngest child, who had grown
up in a few months and appeared to her mother skinny. She was
happy to see them but at the same time she was utterly shocked. She
looked like she wanted to cry but couldn 't. Watching the reactions
348 Tower in the sky

of the kids and their mother many visitors and some prisoners were
moved to tears.

I started suffering from rheumatism in my right ann. The double

folded blankets were not padded enough to buffer the cold coming
from the cement floor. My right hand was usually swollen,
particularly after having played volleyball. Finally, I sent a message
to my sister Almaz to smuggle me some more traditional medicine.
A few days later, I was summoned to the office of the chair
of the Kefitegna. For a fraction of a moment, I thought it was the
older security agent who'd wanted to see me. When I went into the
chairman's office, I saw Fasika, a cadre whom my paternal aunt
knew, sitting on a chair and talking to the chairman.
I felt my heart skipping a beat. Who is it this time? I thought
he had come again to take me to the funeral of a family member, as
he did when my paternal uncle died a few weeks after I was
incarcerated. I had stayed at my uncle's for three days. It was a
miracle at the time for someone like me, who was in the higher
committees of the Party, to go home.
"You are going home for twenty days for treatment. But I
don't want you to be seen in public. Neither do I want anyone
outside of this compound to know that you are going home," the
chairman said to me. "I hope I can count on you on that one," he
said, looking at Fasika.
"Of course, you can count on me," Fasika reassured him and
told me to go and get my belongings.
I ran to the donn and told Emebet that I was going home and
threw some of my clothes in a plastic bag and bid her goodbye and
went to Mekonen's dorm and babbled something about going home.
He stared at me with a mixture of smile and surprise written on his
face. Before he even spoke, I took off, waving at him.
 Tower in the sky 349

Fasika was waiting at the gate. He gave the permission slip

to the Abyot Tebakis stationed at the gate when we went out. I
spotted my sister Almaz's car when we came out; my sister, my
mother and my aunt were sitting in it. I went over to greet them and
they told me to come home with Fasika. I went in his car.
We went to my sister Almaz's house. It felt strange to go
back home after so many months. I didn't realize how much I had
missed my family until I got there. My younger sister Negede was
at school and so were my niece and my nephew. I was eager to see
them from up close. Only my little nephew was at home.
We had lunch and my sister Almaz asked me to thank
Fasika, She divulged that he was the one who was able to get my
name successfully crossed off from three execution lists. I thanked
Fasika.
At home, I once again had to go through the horror of the
crystal like traditional medicine buried in my elbow in addition to
taking the herb every day. For twenty days, I went through hell,
crying daily.
I came back to prison to find the situation worse. I had
committed another cardinal sin: I had gone home for twenty days!
My comrades were furious, as if I was on vacation in some exotic
island. They had no idea what I had been through and they wouldn't
have cared less, anyway. However, going home by itself was proof,
as far as they were concerned, for some of the slanders leveled at me.
One of the girls was heard saying, the night I came back
from home, "Others who have done less than she did are killed but
she gets to go home. It is not fair." I didn't know what I did for
them to wish my death.

I was confused and didn't know how to respond to what was

happening around me. It threw me off balance. I nested in my donn
and buried my face in books to shield myself from hostile and icy
350 Tower in the sky

stares. I read Anna Karenina, The Resurrection, The brothers

Karamazov and a few others.
But the opportunity helped me tum inward and look at
myself as I had never done before. My comrades, in a way, were
like a mirror reflecting back at me. I was astounded by the
realization that I was once a blind follower. I had obeyed the Party
and had remained steadfast in my loyalty even when there were
enough grounds for me to question its actions. The Party was an
abstract entity to me, insulated from human limitations. Despite
Getachew's cold-blooded murder and what I had witnessed after I
was arrested, I'd still believed with all my heart that it was good,
omniscient and omnipotent.
I became engrossed in internal monologue.
Why do people imitate others? Why do they follow them
blindly? Except for the few who manipulate them, many of these
people are not bad; so why do they behave this way? Is it because
they are afraid to stand on their own? Doesn't each of us know the
difference between right and wrong? Isn't each of us endowed with
the ability to think for ourselves? Don't people know they are
hurting others when they wrongly accuse them?
Appalled by what I observed as a crowd mentality,
something in me rebelled. My inner cynic awoke, surmising, albeit
rudimentarily, that we are "plastic" beings easily shaped by others.
I knew my comrades suffered from the "death of an
illusion." We'd lived in a make-believe world: trying to build a
utopia inspired by Marxism. It was difficult to go on after what had
happened to our project. All that passion, sense of purpose and the
idea of building a redemptive future were gone, never to be
retrieved again. There is nothing sadder. It was obvious that it
would be difficult to pick up the pieces and move forward, even if
our lives were spared. But this didn't explain why Mekonen and I
 Tower in the sky 351

had become scapegoats. Were we responsible for the shattering of

our comrades' dreams? Why do people blame others for things that
go wrong in their lives?
I often asked myself whether my comrades had to project
their frustrations and disappointments on us for being relatively
senior members in the Party within the prison community. I came to
realize that people somehow lost their individuality and moral
independence when they belonged to a crowd whose collective
mind dictated their life. Will I ever belong to a group again? How
can I steer clear of the crowd mindset? How can 1 remain an
individual? What was it to me that our intentions were good if the
means made me lose my moral integrity?
I kept examining my thoughts and actions constantly so that
I did not backslide into the group mindset. I resolved to remain true
to myself and to the world around me. Whatever I did, I wanted to
do it with the full awareness of the moral consequences. This
became the single most important concern in my life. I often said to
myself, "I will never join a group again, if I live through this."
Turning inward gave me the will to hold onto the decisions I had
made. Yet I realized there was no guarantee I could stick to my
decision except for being forever vigilant and becoming acutely aware
of my beliefs, behavior and actions.
I became cognizant that the group is everything for its
members regard.less of the reality, which stares at them individually.
This helped me discern that the Party was equated with the
revolution and the ideal society we had set out to bring forth. Rather
than being a vessel for change, it had become the end. As a result, it
had to be armored from the gaze of others even if it meant false
allegations. It had to be defended at any cost so that its sacred
memory would live on.
352 Tower in the sky

Until that point, I had never really seen myself as an

individual. I was part of a group with a shared sense of identity and
destiny. I was at home with myself and with the world. My belief
about the direction of our struggle and what we would be able to
achieve was as robust as could be. The internal world of the Party
seemed to be suffused with certainty and. trust, until the detention
and liquidation of Getachew. Even then, my love for the Party
overpowered all the doubts and questions that I harbored. I'd
believed that all was going to be well again.
After all, life was what we made it out to be, or so I thought.
But at the Kefitegna, life became imbued with enigma,
confusion and doubt. We no longer controlled our destiny. The
Party was totally decimated. It had not proved to be as invincible as
I'd imagined. The deaths of Afework, Getachew and my little
brother, Minasse, had taught me that life was impregnated with
tragedy. The demise of thousands of comrades whom I had never
met and of close friends such as Azeb and Semegne had opened up
my eyes to the fact that the price we pay for the 'greater good' was
costly. What is more, I knew execution would not be long in
coming.
But what am I dying for? How lucky were the comrades who
had died? They knew what they were dying for. They knew their
deaths would be worth the while. There was nothing left for me to
die fOT, except for struggling to maintain my integrity,
I had become an outcast for sticking to what I believed was
right. I could have mimicked others and shunned Mekonen, but that
would have cost me my integrity and I would never have been able
to forgive myself had I done that. I took responsibility for the
decision I'd made and lived with the consequences. I lost my
comradeship with others but was able to reclaim myself.
 Tower in the sky 353

As for Mekonen, he never gave in to the sad treatment he

was subjected to. He always smiled and opened his heart and mind
to whoever wanted to talk to him. He was the one people still turned
to learn about the history of the Party. He continued doing that for
those who wanted to know, he became their passport to sanity.
He stood tall because of his maturity, patience and
gracefulness.

Whatever had happened at the Kejitegna meant nothing compared

to the grand scheme of things. But my heart ached at the time, and
the comrades were oblivious to their hurtful behavior and actions.
Defending a Party that no longer existed was more important to
them than showing empathy.
In my world before the prison, people were good. Life was
good. After the Kejitegna, not only people but also life itself
became suspect. It wasn't so much what the comrades did but the
knowledge that something like that could happen between comrades
that threw me off-guard. What kept me from plunging into the abyss
was the sheer love of life, the knowledge that I was innocent and the
resolve to be true to myself and to the world around me.
A difficult choice presented itself to me in the form of
renouncing or not renouncing the Party. For the first time in my life,
I was at a crossroads, unable to choose one way or the other. I
labored to mute the nagging voice that called upon me to disavow
my beloved Party. My heart simply refused to let go. How can I turn
away from the pillar of my life that gave me so much hope and
meaning? Who am I and what am I without it? What about our
noble project? It was all for naught? Didn't we promise the masses
a betterfuture?
A shiver went through my entire being at the very idea of
forsaking my Party, Turning away from it amounted to turning my
354 Tower in the sky

back on all those comrades who had sacrificed their lives. Did they
die in vain? How about the thousands who languish in prison? This
and other questions hammered my mind and tormented my soul.
But my mind connived against my cherished Party and
slowly I tore up the sacred veil draping my eyes. Without the
illusions, myths and sacred taboos surrounding it, to my horror it
became just an ordinary bunch of people trying to find their way in
the dark. I turned away not because the Party had made a mistake,
but because collective entities like it turned their members into
blind followers. I was also revolted by the hatred they instilled in
their members who thought differently from them.
But why does this happen? Is it because of their
underground nature? Is it the ideology they swear upon? Is it
Marxism-Leninism itself, which we tried to follow to its logical
conclusion? Is Marxism flawed, or is it us who distorted it trying to
translate it into practice? How can I turn away from the theory that
taught me how to change the world?
I dared to lift up the sacred halo surrounding Marxism. I
questioned its Promethean vision: a vision that was so sure of itself.
How did it dare impose inevitability on life that is too uncertain, too
ambiguous, too fleeting and too arbitrary? The nationwide massacre
perpetrated by the Derg and its allies, the death of Getachew and the
Kefitegna experience had taught me that life did not go in a straight
line: projects could be thwarted, dreams shattered, and humans
could be turned into automatons.
But who amongst us would have doubted the theory? Who
would have challenged its validity? The Russians and the Chinese
may have gotten it wrong, but we were going to do it right. We
never doubted ourselves and the ideology, which we surrendered
our lives to.
 Tower in the sky 355

Now that I took off the lens, the world appeared different. It
wasn't the black and white world that I had painted it to be. I
learned the dangers of trying to uncritically implement an ideology.
Marxism taught that the history of society is the struggle of
antagonistic social forces; progress comes only through the
destruction of one of these forces by the other. We took that as the
ultimate truth, and destroying the real or perceived enemy became
the driving force in our struggle.
How can we do good if what we do is achieved at the cost of
human life? I had seen too much violence and bloodshed. The very
idea of violence induced an aversion in me. Urban or rural armed
struggle engendered violence and I rejected both. The supreme
value of any change should be human life. Any change should come
peacefully, I resolved.
What I learned at the Kefitegna and thereafter was that I
could not be innocent just because my former comrades had
brushed me off. What I loathed about crowd mentality was not
simply becoming a cipher, but also the idea that I might hurt others
without realizing it. After so much soul searching, I came to realize
that I too was answerable for every mistake committed, for every
blood spilled and for every name defamed in the name of the
revolution. As E.M. Cioran says, "I shall no longer say H] am"
without blushing. "
My decision did not come without a price. I was rocked
from side to side like a ship in high seas. I felt the axis of my
existence wobbling beneath me. How am I going to hold out without
the Party? I reckoned I had cast its love out of my heart. I trembled
with the very idea of turning my back on it. Would life have any
meaningfor me again? What am 1 to hold on to maintain my sanity?
I became lonely amidst hundreds of comrades for whom I would
formerly have gladly died. Even though the loss of meaning in life
356 Tower in the sky

was the main issue confronting me at the time, I strove to keep my

composure. I was not totally successful. At times, I did not feel like
talking to the few people around me, such as Mekonen and Emebet.
For the most part, I kept my poise.
Slowly, I felt a new person surging in me. I gained
confidence in the knowledge that I can define and redefine myself. I
could determine who I wanted to be and where I wanted to go. I
didn't need a Party or a group of people to tell me who I am and
where I'm going. I tasted the beauty of freedom. I embraced it and
vowed to stand by it no matter what the ramifications.
I developed the consciousness that I would prevail in the
end, if only my life could be spared.
 Tower in the sky 357

Farewell my sister, fare thee well.

The elements be kind to thee, and make
Thy spirits all ofcomfort: fare thee well.
-William Shakespeare, Antony and Cleopatra

Around November 1978, nine months after I was arrested, news

came to the Kefitegna that the Derg had formed a committee that
would review the cases of political prisoners.
It may have been around January 1979, I was in the dorm
when I heard my name being called. I wasn't feeling well that
morning. When I went out, I was asked to come to the office. I
noticed that others, including Mekonen, had been called. In the
office, I saw several men sitting behind desks at different stations.
That was when I understood that the people were members of the
committee who would go over our cases. The first person I saw was
the older security agent. I was disconcerted. I hadn't seen him for
quite a few months. I sent a quick prayer toward the heavens so that
I won't be called to his station.
He had enjoyed abusing me physically through spanking and
kicking. His efforts to take me to the Derg office prison had been
frustrated. He was not able to do as much harm to me as he would
have loved to as long as I was at the Kefitegna.
I remember one afternoon, about a week after the identity of
the Shashemene group became public and after we started giving
our statements, he called me to the office and told me that he was
going to take me to a series of different prisons so that I could
pinpoint people I had worked with. He said he was sure there were
individuals who had worked with me whose names I had not yet
given up.
He took me to the Meakelawi first. Girls were asked to come
out and stand in line. He asked if I knew any of them. I looked at all
the girls and I saw Yordanos, Sara's cousin, whom I knew at the
358 Tower in the sky

university. I said I did not know any of them. The girls were asked
if they knew me. No one spoke. I felt so humiliated I couldn't even
look up.
I prayed he would not take me to the Third Police Station,
where Azeb was held. The Police Station was adjacent to the
Meakelawi. When we came out of the compound, the driver told the
security agent that he had to go to an appointment. I was waiting for
the agent's response in trepidation. I would have loved to see my
friend after so long, but not in such an undignified appearance. I
knew Azeb would know that 1 would not betray her, or anyone else,
for that matter. I heard the agent say, "Well, then let's take her
back."
I was relieved.
The car went past the Police Station. The agent turned to me
and said, "I will take you to the Military Police and the Derg office
prisons another day. I am sure you know a lot of people there." I
surely did. There were people like Tito, Habte, Sirak, Gebeyehu and
Alemayehu Egzeru. They dropped me off at the Kefitegna and left.
That night, tears poured down my face under the cover of the
blanket, burning with shame. The last time I had seen the agent was
when I was called into the office one day.
I had been taken to Kefitegna 15 by a cadre shortly after the
identity of the Shashemene group had been disclosed. I didn't know
why I was being taken until I got there. Martha, Mahlet, Hanna and
the rest of residents of the Piassa apartment were thrown in because
of me. I had to testify that they had no political involvement and
that I went to the apartment just because we were friends. They
were released after a week.
Since the day I got back from Kefitegna 15, one of the
cadres had fancied that he could come anytime and have me called
to the office and talk to me. The day I was called to the office, I saw
 T ower in the sky 359

the cadre from Kefitegna 15 chatting with Zerihoun, the older

security agent and other cadres. They were standing in the middle of
the room. The cadre from Kefitegna 15 shook my hand and
recklessly said, "So you were the secretary of Nazaret area which
made you my boss! I thought I was in control. You are a heroine.
Take this as a token of your heroism." He unstrapped his empty
cartridge pouch off his waist and handed it to me.
I held the pouch in my hand puzzled.
The older security agent became so indignant he snatched it
from my hand and gave it back to the cadre saying, "You can't spoil
prisoners like that. Praise is not what this girl needs. She is an
enemy of the state and she has done more than most people around
here. As to you," he said, turning to me, "as to you, I will be a dead
man if I don't throw your corpse in the streets."
I shrugged my shoulders.
"You see how arrogant she is? She must have some relative
that she is counting on. There is no reason for this kind of
impudence. Who is that relative of yours you are counting on, huh?"
he growled, giving me a hard slap on the face.
I felt I had lost my sense of sight.
Zerihoun, upset, asked the agent to restrain himself. The
agent was so outraged by the friendly attitude of the cadres toward
me he kept ranting. He said he would make sure that I would be
transferred to the Derg office prison and stormed out.

My prayers must have been lost half way through the heavens
because I saw the security agent trying to get my attention. I went
up to him filled with sudden disappointment and hatred. He told me
to sit down in a chair across his desk. I had spotted a pleasant
looking man from among the committee members and had hoped he
would call me. Instead, Mekonen was asked to go there.
360 Tower in the sky

"What is wrong? Why are you wearing a gabi?" the agent

asked me without looking up. He had a file in front of him and was
scribbling something.
"I am not feeling well."
"Let's get down to business. Your name?"
"Hiwot."
"Father's name?"
"Teffera"
"Grandfather's name?"
"Minda"
"Teffera Minda? Which Teffera Minda?"
"Teffera Minda," I muttered. I did not know another Teffera
Minda.
"Is Teffera Minda the Teffera Minda from Jijiga? Is he the
brother of Meharene and Mamite Minda?"
"Yes."
"Are you Teffera Minda's daughter?"
"Yes."
"Oh, God! What have I done? I've been torturing my
brother's daughter all along. I lived in Jijiga when your father was a
police commissioner. I am indebted to him forever. Like father, like
daughter. No wonder you are brave."
I never grew up with my father. My parents were separated .
when I was little. My father was a maverick and an avid reader of
English novels. He had a bit of Western education and spoke fluent
English, Italian, Arabic and Somali besides Amharic. I assumed the
security agent said, "Like father, like daughter," because he
probably knew the story about my father. My father was in jail
(before I was born) accused of "defiling the Emperor's name."
He was kept in prison for six months and was later sent to
the Supreme Court in Addis. The Emperor presided over the court
 T ower in the sky 361

and gave him amnesty saying his father had done them (the
government) a favor.
"My dear child, your case is very serious," began the
security agent. "I'm sure you know and I won't try to hide it from
you. The penalty is death. But I will see to it that you won't die. No,
I will not see Teffera's daughter die. Where is your father now? He
used to work in Dire Dawa."
"He is here in Addis. He is retired."
"Does he come and visit you?"
"He came only a few times. His knees hurt. He can't be on his
feet for long."
"How come your aunt didn't tell me about you?"
"I don't know."
I didn't know what to make of this sudden outburst of
emotion on the part of the security agent. I couldn't believe it was
the same ferocious and evil man I had known all along. He looked
gentle and caring. When I was done, he told me not to worry too
much and let me go.
It was only later that I learned that my aunt has been
desperately looking for him in vain. Years later, her son told me,
tears trickling down his cheek, that he once met the security agent in
a bar. When he told him his mom's name the security agent said to
him, "I once tortured and abused a girl without knowing that she
was Teffera Minda's daughter, but I saved her life."

It was sometime in March and I woke up one morning and thought

about the dream I had seen overnight. I don't usually dwell on
dreams, but there was something sinister about this one. I wished
Etiye Zenebu was there to interpret it for me. She was set free a few
months ago.
I dreamt that there was a dark alleyway adjacent room #3,
lined with barren trees on both sides. People were walking in a
362 Tower in the sky

straight line and I couldn't make out their faces. I was last in line. I
could vaguely identify Tito among them. The only person I could
clearly recognize was Mekonen, He was walking right in front of
me and had his light blue jacket on. I was tagging after him when I
suddenly saw a wider and brighter street on my right. I hesitated for
a moment but took it
In the afternoon, I was in my dorm still mulling over my
dream when Mekonen' s name was called out. I rushed out to see
what was going on and saw him shaking hands with some people. I
went over and shook hands with him, bid him goodbye and wished
him good luck. He was smiling as usual and it was hard to know
what his feelings were. I returned to my dorm, tears welling up in
my eyes. Why would they take him to the Meakelawi after over a
year? The answer was obvious.
It was a devastating blow.
Just about a month before that, we had heard Party alternate
CC member, Fikre Zerga, had been executed. He was captured in
Wallo in October 1978. Mekonen and I felt bad when we learned
about his execution. Fikre was the comrade I accompanied to Tigray
in May 1977.
Then in April, just before Ethiopian Easter, sad news came
to the Kejitegna. Mekonen Bayisa and League CC members Tito
Hiruy, Sirak Tefera, Gebeyehu Dagne, and Alemayehu Egzeru were
executed. Among them were also Habteselassie and Meron Assefa,
and others whom I did not know personally.
I felt bereft.
It was an enOImOUS tragedy. I could still vividly see
Mekonen's smiling face and kind eyes and the clothes he wore just
before he left. The image of Tito in his black leather jacket and
Meron's beautiful face is still memorable. All those bright young
 Tower in the sky 363

people were mercilessly butchered. The sadism of the Derg never

seemed to let up.
It was as bloodthirsty as it has ever been.
To our dismay, we also learned that Ashenafi, Tizazu (I Say)
and Tesfaye Pettie had been killed. The three had been brought to
our Kefitegna from Kefitegna 21 some months previously, along
with others, when a death list, which included their names, was sent
to their Kefitegna. Their cadre, Getahun, a friend of our cadre
Daniel, hid them in our Kefitegna until their cases were forgotten.
They were locked in one of the dorms so that the rest of us would
not see them. We had to be inside when they had to go to the toilet
or take a shower.
They were later taken back to their Kefitegna and then
brought back when another death list came. Getahun took them
back later, and the three were finally executed despite his efforts.
That was another heartbreak we had to deal with after the death of
Mekonen and League CC members.
It was interesting that many prisoners were against cadre-
turned EPRP members such as Daniel and Getahun. Even though
they claimed that they had returned to the "revolutionary camp," in
order to escape death and imprisonment in the hands of the Derg
and went around rifles hanging on their shoulders, these individuals
played a crucial role in saving the lives of many of their former
comrades.
Not long after the execution of Mekonen and League CC
members, we also learned that Berhanemeskel Redda was arrested
and was held at the hellish dungeons of the Derg Headquarters. The
legendary revolutionary finally fell in the hands of the enemy. I
wondered what had happened to his wife. I had looked forward to
meeting her.
364 Tower in the sky

Ayalew Temesgen, a fanner EPRP member, once told me

that he was at the Derg office prison with Berhanemeskel Redda,
He said, "They took away Berhanemeskel every day, from morning
till evening, for interrogation. Sometimes they brought him back for
lunch and took him away. He often played chess with a fellow
prisoner. I played with him once. The pieces were made of tom
slippers. Generally, Berhanemeskel kept to himself but he was
always relaxed. He also told me that he had told Getachew not to
trust them and had warned him not to go near them. He said, 'When
I told Getachew not to trust them,' he said to me, 'what is this talk
of not trusting comrades?' 'I had warned him but he didn't listen.
He believed he would change things through dialogue. ",

Everything had seemed quiet at the Kefitegna before all those

executions took place. The deceptively quiet situation had prompted
the will to live. The sense of resignation has been ebbing. Death had
lacked its immediacy. But the slaying of Mekonen and other
comrades jolted me out of my dream like existence. I once again
was sure my own death was imminent As the days went by, pangs
of survivor guilt began to gnaw at me, even though I did not yet
know my fate. It seemed almost a shame to be alive after all those
comrades were gone.
Life didn't make sense.
At the time, I went home for treatment, I had learned about
the efforts made by my family to save my life. I could not totally
rely on it. There were families who did their best and gave all they
had, but ultimately were unable to save the lives of their children.
Other families, who could grease the palms of security agents,
cadres, Derg members or Kebele officials or who had the "right
connections" were more successful. Prisoners' files were destroyed,
their names changed, and they were finally released. The most
 Tower in the sky 36i

painful blow was when others were unscrupulously executed in

their place for the sake of money!
What I learned during those tough times was how we
humans put things at the back of our minds quickly in order to
survive. Were it not for our capacity to forget, we would have
perished as a species, unable to take in the magnitude of tragedies
we faced on a daily basis. The life we lived at the Kefitegna was
make-believe. We moved as ijall was well, to maintain our sanity.
That was the only weapon at our disposal to face the terror
shadowing us.
Once the shock over the death of Mekonen, Tito and others
subsided, I felt the will to live creeping in again. All of a sudden,
life seemed precious. I wanted to cling to it. I felt sheer delight in
being alive. I was grateful and humble before the force that kept me
alive. It did not matter what the future held. I was alive and that was
what mattered.

I was going to take each day at a time, and did, until my world was
shaken up once more in the beginning of June 1979. It was around
ten in the morning and I was washing cups after breakfast beside the
water pipe in the front yard of the office. I looked toward the gate,
causally, and saw a military truck pull into the car park outside the
compound. I saw an officer with a Lieutenant's badge get off the
truck and enter the compound. He was carrying a piece of paper in
his hand. I knew what that piece of paper meant.
I gathered the cups quickly, dashed to the dorm and told
Emebet that our sentences had come. Since the interview by the
committee, we had been awaiting our verdict. We suspected that
Mekonen and all the comrades executed with him were sentenced to
death by the recommendation of the committee.
366 Tower in the sky

Minutes later, someone started calling out names. Mine was

one of them. They told us to get our belongings and come to the
office. I stuffed whatever I had into a plastic bag, said goodbye to
Emebet and rushed out.
There were about fifteen or so of us. They commanded us to
get into the back of the truck. While walking, I saw a young man
carrying the orange and white plastic containers in which my lunch
came. My cousin Elsa had hired him for just that purpose. It was my
first time seeing him in person, and he didn't know me by sight. I
secretly waved at him just before I climbed into the truck.
I saw him tum back, sprinting.
It was when we reached Menilik II Square that I realized
that they were taking us to the Meakelawi. I had always dreaded that
place. It was one of the bloodiest prisons in the country. They
dropped us off at the compound and led us through a narrow
passage to the dormitories.
There were two small rooms for women. I was taken to one
into which about twenty-five to thirty women were herded. After
about an hour, the Capo (a prisoner who has certain privileges and
duties) came and asked for me. He had brought my lunch and told
me that my mother, my sister Almaz and my aunt were outside, and
had sent me their greetings. He told me he knew my aunt. I was
relieved but wondered how they had managed to discover my
whereabouts in such a short time.
The next morning, I was in the donn when I noticed for the
first time a young pregnant woman surrounded by a few girls. They
called her Tady. A couple of days later, a newspaper circulated in
the dorm, which announced the execution of Berhanemeskel Redda!
I was shocked. That was when I learned that the young pregnant
woman was his wife. Her name, Tadelech Hailemichael, was on the
 Tower in the sky 367

newspaper. She was about six months pregnant. Some of the girls
hid the newspaper so she would not find out about the execution.
The death of Berhanemeske1 felt like it was the end of an era.
I was excited to see Tadelech. Getachew had wanted me to
meet her. I had always been reserved, but the Kefitegna experience
had made me even more so. Besides, the room was so overcrowded
it was hardly possible to talk in private. Almost all of us stayed
indoors since there was nowhere else to go. We had to take turns to
sit on the small bench outside. I got the chance to talk to Tadelech,
albeit briefly, when we were waiting our tum at the washroom one
day, and we exchanged a few words.
Another day, we ended up beside one another on the bench
outside. Somehow, Mekonen Bayisa's and Meron Assefa's names
came up during our conversation. She had heard from one of the
girls who had come from our Kefitegna about Mekonen, To her
shock, the girl had told her that, "Mekonen got what he had
deserved." I was as shocked to hear that as she had been. Tadelech
and I also talked about Anna Karenina, a book that I had read at the
Kefitegna. I was smitten by her charisma.
I instinctively knew we were kindred spirits.

Life in Meakelawi was boring, to say the least. I had no books to

read and no one to talk to. I never got the chance to talk to Tadelech
again. There was little or no movement. The longest trip one could
take was going to the washroom which was only steps away. The
days dragged on painfully slowly. How long are they going to keep
us here? Are they going to execute us? Is that why they brought us
here? I wrestled every now and then with those questions.
One morning around the end of June, after twenty-five days
at the Meakelawi, prisoners who had come from Kefitegna 19 and
other Kefitegnas were called out. I stepped out when I heard my name.
368 Tower in the sky

All of a sudden, there was a commotion in the dorms and

outside. People were walking rapidly back and forth. I was standing
at the door of our donn when the Capo came over and anxiously
asked me if my name was from one to five on the list. I did not
exactly remember but I knew it was among the first names called out.
"Why? What happens to those whose names are called one
to five?"
"Nothing...nothing. I can assure you that you are all given
sentences. I just wanted to know if your name was one to five on the
list," he said and walked away hurriedly.
I stood there trying to make sense of what he had said. Why
is he so anxious if I am given a sentence? Maybe those whose
names are one to five on the list are the ones to be executed. The
Capo was concerned because my aunt had told him to look after me.
I saw him coming back taking long strides.
"You are given only three years. It is okay. You are young
and you will still be young when you come out," he tried to reassure me.
I knew better than that.
"Why do you say that if I am given only three years? I've
already been in for more than a year, which means I will be out in
less than a year and a half. I don't expect to get a light sentence. Tell
me the truth. Am I on the execution list?"
"No, no, no! I swear to you. You are given---three years," he
said, avoiding my eyes.
I suspected that one to five were given life imprisonment or
were slated for the firing squad. While I was ruminating, we were
told to come out with our belongings. I darted into my donn,
grabbed my plastic bag and proceeded to the spot we were told to
stand in a line.
I saw Lieutenant Shimeles, the one who brought us to the
Meakelawi, standing next to a truck. A soldier was standing beside
 Tower in the sky 369

him, a piece of paper in hand. Lieutenant Shimeles instructed us to

go on the trucks when our names are called out. I heard my name
and I was number five on the list. I saw the Lieutenant look at the
paper and heard him say "Puuh!" slapping his forehead with the
palm of his hand and shaking his head incredulously. I got onto one
of the trucks.
Nebiyu Tefera, who was only nineteen and had come with
us from Kefitegna 19, was left behind. I wasn't sure where we were
being taken but I worried about him. If we were going to Kerchele -
the central prison - then Nebiyu would definitely be executed. I
couldn't take my eyes off him when the trucks left the compound.
He wore a navy blue sweater.
I felt a knot in my stomach.

Kerchele was our only hope. Kerchele is a corruption of the Italian

word carcere - prison. I knew from the behavior of the Capo and
the reaction of the Lieutenant that my sentence was long. How long
is it? Ten? Fifteen, Twenty? Life? But I did not care about that.
What mattered was that my life was spared.
When the truck went down Menilik II Square and passed by
the old Post office, it all came back to me. I saw the spot where I
accidentally met Getachew the day he got off the taxi and tugged at
my elbow. I remembered my appointment with Tito that day and all
the days we met there. There was the street that led to the Piassa
apartment: my friends Martha, Mahelet, Hanna, and Kidan!
The truck rolled down Churchill Road to Tewodros Square
and I saw the street leading to Gola Mikael and to the Ij meschia,
where the League IZ often met. We passed by Noh, our hang out,
and then by the Post office building. I remembered the last time I
saw Azeb walking in front of the building. Then I saw Mimo Bar,
where I had gone with my Zonal Committee members... and
370 Tower in the sky

Semegne! Will I ever get to see these places again? What if I die of
natural causes? What if the sentence was a mistake and is reversed?
How is my family going to take it ifI am given life? Am I going to be a
burden on them my whole life? The questions spun in my head.
When the trucks went down towards Kera, I was relieved
because I knew for sure we were being taken to Kerchele. I didn't
know where it was exactly, but I knew it was somewhere there. The
trucks burst in through the gate and came to a halt. We got off one
by one. There were several male wardens at the gate watching us as
we descended from the trucks.
Kerchele was bigger than I had imagined. It looked barren.
Everything around it was old and shabby. We were led to an old
building, which was the office. A Major, the prison administrator,
came out, talked briefly to Lieutenant Shimeles, and made a short
welcome speech to us. Lieutenant Shimeles then wished everyone good
luck and came up to me.
"Have those who gave you the sentence seen you?" he
asked, shaking his head.
"Yes ...well. .. 1 don't know ...1 think so," 1 answered. I didn't
know what to say.
"They are going to tell you your sentences in a minute. You
will still be young when you come out. Besides, only God knows
what is going to happen. You may get amnesty and come out before
you finish your term. Be strong, make yourself busy and take good
care of yourself. The best thing is to keep oneself busy. I wish you
good luck," he gave me words of encouragement. He was still
shaking his head when he walked away, shoulders slumped. I was
touched by his kindness. It was consoling to know that there were
people like him among them.
We went inside the office and they directed us to a room
where a man was sitting behind a desk. We were told to go one by
 Tower in the sky 371

one and tell him our names. He looked down a list and told each
individual his or her sentence. There were different reactions. Some
walked away in disbelief. Others sighed with relief. I went up and
told him my name.
"Fifteen years!" he said, a look of disbelief coming over his face.
I laughed.
"Are you laughing?"
I shrugged my shoulders.
He shook his head again incredulously. The Major was
sitting on the desk and looked at me in utter horror.
"Were you an executive?" he asked.
"No."
"You must have killed, then."
"No," I said and walked away.
I was soothed. By the look of the Lieutenant's and the
Capo's reactions, I thought I had gotten life. I was lucky to be alive
and get fifteen years. There were so many who did not get that
cl.ance. What mattered was that I was alive.
After all, life had become precious again.
I am given a second chance and I am going to take it
happily. I am not going to take anything for granted. I would make
the most out of life in Kerchele. Of course, there was 110 guarantee
that the Derg would not change its mind, given its whimsical nature.
But I left that to the future and seized the moment. I remembered
Azeb, Semegne, Mekonen, Tito, Aklilu, Habte, Sirak, Taye, Agere,
Merid, Fatuma, Ashenafi, and others who didn't get that chance. As
for the other prisoners from our Kefitegna, four (two of whom were
female) were given ten. The girls in room #3 got three and four, and
they had already served over a year.
I was contemplating my new lease on life when we were led
out of the office. I saw a couple of female wardens standing outside.
372 Tower in the sky

They were there to accompany us, the women, to the female

quarter. Walking down to our destination, I saw hundreds of male
prisoners strolling in the large courtyard.

Kerchele was built around the end of the 1930s. Men and women
lived in separate quarters and men were jammed into different
quarters such as Ketero (for those with pending court cases),
Firdegna (for those serving sentences) Alembekagn (for those with
life sentences and those convicted of murder awaiting execution),
Fitabiher (for those in for civil law violations) and the women's
compound. With the influx of political prisoners in the prison, this
classification no longer held true as political prisoners were thrown
into any quarter.
I was in for a surprise when the gate of the women's
compound was flung open. I saw a woman, whose name I later
learned was Zergi, in dirty clothes, colorful beads on her forehead
and her legs chained and screaming at the women around her. I was
terribly scared of her. So much/or Kerchele!
Cans of all sizes, mostly of tomato sauce and milk powder,
were arrayed on the gravel-covered courtyard and a woman was
scooping something out of a coal black medium sized barrel and
filling up the cans. I had learned that water was rationed at
Kerchele. They must be getting their daily water ration. Oh no!
They can deprive me ofanything but not water. What am I supposed
to do with water in a tomato sauce can? At a closer look, it was tea
that the woman was pouring out into the cans. It was just before
lunchtime when we got there and there were a couple of pails near
the tea barrel, with ladles inside. The pails looked filthy and the
sauce unappetizing.
My stomach turned.
 Tower in the sky 373

Someone yelled "Delday Committee!" and a woman, whose

name I later learned was Hilina, emerged out of Adarash and came
down the stairs and welcomed us and ushered us in. Adarash - hall
- was a rundown building built by the Italians during the five-year
occupation. It was the largest building in the compound at the time.
Women were sitting inside on their beds or mattresses,
chatting or knitting, when we went in. I was surprised to see beds
since we slept on double-folded blankets at the Kefitegna. There
were double-decker beds on opposite sides of the hall and
mattresses, rolled up in white, blue and green plastic covers, were
lined up in the middle. It was quite a spectacle. It looked like a
bazaar. Those who slept on the cement floor in the middle of the
hall had to bundle up their mattresses during the day so that people
could freely move around.
On the right side of the entrance were three double-decker
'beds; on the left, there were mattresses on the floor lined up against
the wall. Those who slept on those mattresses didn't have to roll
them up during the day.
A few moments after we'd been in Adarash, a couple of
girls, whom I knew from the university, came and took me out to
the "teahouse." Tea was made outside on a huge coal hearth. We
sipped our tea sitting on the ledge of the Emechat Bet - a rather
small building that housed mothers and their babies. Right away,
my name was called out. I ambled to the spot where two women
were standing. They were assigned to call names when food was
brought to the gate by male prisoners. I took the food and signed my
name in the book. I was once again amazed at how quickly my
family had learned of my whereabouts.
News spread of the longer sentences and many women came
over to see us. I learned that there was a girl who was given life and
another twenty years froIn among the former prisoners. They were
374 Tower in the sky

members of the Eritrean Liberation Fronts. I was the first female

EPRP member, and would remain the only one to get the longest
sentence.
Like any new prisoner in Kerchele, I was curious to see
members of the royal family who had been in prison since
September 1974. They came out to the volleyball court for their
late-moming stroll. The rest of the prisoners were not allowed to go
on the court during those walks. The royal family was kept in a
room at the back of Adarash.
Hilina, chair of the Delday Committee (the committee that
looked after sleeping arrangements), later took us to Sostegna Bet -
house number three. I was with a couple of girls who had come with
me from the Meakelawi. They were from another Kefitegna. We
swept the semi-dirt floor to make our "bed" and put our blankets
and linen on one of the top bunk beds, when this elderly woman
came over and threw them on the floor. She had a scarlet headscarf
tied around her head in a funny way. She was carrying a huge sack
on her back.
We were shocked. "Emama, we are sorry. We are new and
didn't know the rules around here," said one of the girls.
The woman was outraged and babbled, "He tried to get to
her. She is no one's fool. She threw it off her bed."
What? Who is he? Is the woman normal? I then heard a
couple of girls say, "Bogeye! Bogeye! Why are you throwing their
stuff on the floor?"
Bogeye? How can they call this old woman Bogeye?
Shouldn't they be calling her Emama as an old woman deserves to
be addressed? I later ended up calling her Bogeye, an endearment
of the name Bogalech.
 Tower in the sky 375

My greatest worry since I was brought in Kerchele was how to

break the news of my sentence to my family when I saw them
during visitation time on Sunday. The day we arrived in Kerchele
was a Wednesday. The days crawled, prolonging my agony.
Sunday morning, at nine o'clock the first name was called
out. Criers stood ten meters apart at designated spots and their
voices echoed throughout the compound. Some were stationed at
the door of each bet - house - and yelled out names, knitting,
chatting with friends or sitting or standing.
I was about to face the most dreadful day of my life. I was
anxiously pacing the volleyball court when, Zeleka, a fanner EPRP
member and a friend, came and joined me. Zeleka was a member of
the Mekrus I had joined. Mekrus was a group of individuals who
pooled their resources to survive in jail.
Zeleka tried to cheer me up, to no avail. When my name was
called, I exited the compound, my heart racing and my eyes blurred
with tears. At the visiting place, I paused, astonished at the sheer
number of people standing behind the wooden bars that separated
prisoners from them. I was apprehensively looking for my family
when I spotted Tsedey, my sister Almaz's friend, waving at me. I
was so happy to see her, I felt like crying. Her big, beautiful eyes
were red and I could see that she, too, was restraining herself. She
told me my mother and sisters were in the lineup. I breathed a sigh
of relief when she told me that they knew about my sentence. They
had brought food every day since I was transferred, but I had no
idea they knew how many years I was given.
Unlike Kefitegna, where we could only wave at visitors
from a distance, here we could actually talk to them, albeit
separated by two wooden rail fences running parallel to each other.
Female wardens stood every few meters between the fences and
passed things like food, money and clothing from visitors to
376 Tower in the sky

prisoners, or empty food containers and other items the other way.
The only hitch was the noise, as visitors and prisoners had to out-
shout one another to be heard.
Finally, I saw my family coming down. My mother started
to cry, but my older sister nudged her so as to say "don't make her
(meaning me) cry." I put on a brave face. I was spared of the burden
of breaking the long sentence to them. We chatted until one in the
afternoon, till the end of visitation time. I told them that they didn't
have to come every day to bring me food. We ate in a group and
each member was assigned to provide sustenance one day of the
week. No one was responsible for Sunday, as everybody's family
visited. My sister said Saturday worked best for them. Finally they
left It had been an eventful and overwhelming day.

I became an object of curiosity and pity in the compound for a few

weeks as a result of my long sentence. I was treated a little bit like a
celebrity, given priority at the water pump or in the toilet lineup.
Sunday visits were very awkward, as prisoners pointed their index
fingers at me (of course secretly), telling their family and friends in
hushed tones that I was in for fifteen years, causing them to recoil in
horror or shake their heads in disbelief. As the weeks went by, the
curiosity wore off and I became more relaxed.
"The day you arrived here," a wealthy lady, a resident of
almost four years, said to me one day, "they told me that this girl
has been given fifteen years. I wanted to check her out. I saw you at
the teahouse, sitting with girls, chatting, smiling and drinking tea as
if nothing had happened. For heaven's sake, you'd just been told
your sentence! Allow me to ask you a question. How did you
manage to swallow the tea?"
I smiled awkwardly. I didn't know what to say. She had no
idea how relieved I was at that point. The most important thing for
 Tower in the sky 377

me then was that my life was spared. I appreciated that even more
when news about Nebiyu Tefera's (the nineteen-year-old from our
Kefitegna) execution came. I was never able to erase the look in his
eyes that day at the Meakelawi.

I was naive enough to believe that whatever had happened at the

Kefitegna would be behind me. No such luck. No sooner had I
arrived in my new home than a rumor started that I was someone to
watch out for. I didn't have a friend except for Zeleka. I was
transferred to Adarash a couple of weeks after I arrived in Kerchele
due to my long sentence and didn't make any friends there. I was
not even at home in the Mekrus, yet I couldn't think of leaving. Not
because I didn't have the means to support myself, I could. But I
found the very idea of sitting and eating alone terrifying.
There was nothing left for me but to patiently wait for
better days.
378 Tower in the sky

Berhanemeskel Redda, 1979

Abiyu Ersamo, 1967

Agere Miheretu, 1973
Tower in the sky 379

Semegne Lemma

Mekonen Bayisa
380 Tower in the sky

Your friend is your needs answered.

-Kahlil Gibran, The Prophet

Better days came one evening in August 1979, a couple of months

after I was brought to Kerchele. I was standing outside when I heard
the gate clank open and Tadelech walked through with a belly that
looked like a distended balloon. I thought she was going to have the
baby that night. Brikti and I ran to welcome her. Brikti was
associated with one of the Eritrean Liberation Fronts; she had been
at the Meakelawi at the time I was there and had come to Kerchele
perhaps before me. Tade1ech was assigned at the Emechat Bet, since
she was expecting. We became fast friends. She was Berhanemeskel
Redda's wife and the ultimate Anja, and an outsider to the general
EPRP prison population.
The day was September 18, 1979. Just after the Adarash
door was opened at six in the morning, I heard that Tade1ech was in
labor. I jumped out of bed and ran to the clinic in fear and
trembling. I found her lying on a bed with a nurse prisoner assisting
her. It was my first time to see a woman giving birth. I prayed hard
nothing would happen to her or to the baby. Tadelech lay quietly on
the bed in obvious pain, sweat trickling down her temple. I helped
the nurse passing forceps, my hands shaking. The nurse kept telling
her to push and all of a sudden Tadelech screamed and I saw the
baby's head coming out.
She gave birth to a beautiful baby. Its lips were blue and its
body covered by a yellow paste. It was a girl! I shed tears of joy
when the nurse held her upside down and smacked her on her
buttock. The baby gave a shrill. The nurse then swaddled her in a
white cloth and gave her to Tadelech, who kissed her and held her
in her arms. It was the most beautiful sight. Tade1ech was taken to
the hospital after about an hour or so, and stayed there for a month.
 Tower in the sky 381

A woman in labor was usually sent to the hospital. In some

cases, as in the case of Tadelech, the woman may deliver at the
women's prison clinic because of delay. But she'd still be taken to
the hospital for fear of complications. The female wardens did not
usually respond as quickly when they were called in the middle of
the night or simply refused to call the health workers as they did in
the case of Tadelech. This is because they had to walk to the main
gate, which was at least a ten-minute walk from the women's
compound, to have the male wardens relay the message to the
health assistants stationed at the Health Center, which is another
ten-minute walk from the main compound.
The health assistants on duty were the only ones who had
the authority to refer prisoners to the hospital and it might take them
two or three hours before they came to attend to a situation. There
were two of them for seven thousand prisoners. When there was
such a delay, a woman could give birth at the clinic with the help of
a female prisoner, who could be a nurse, a doctor or a midwife with
no formal training.

Tadelech had not learned about her husband's, Berhanemeskel's,

death. Brikti and I were waiting to tell her until after she had the
baby. Even then, we were afraid to break the sad news to her. One
morning a prisoner, whose cadre daughter was killed by the EPRP,
told Tadelech indirectly about Berhanemeskel's death, knowing
very well that she didn't know about it. I wasn't sure what the
woman was in for, but she was very bitter towards the EPRP. When
I was at the Sostegna Bet, every time she saw me making tea she
would start to jabber, wagging her head, "Some of them had gotten
what they deserved. He has cloaked them with long sentences." The
some of them was me and the he was Mengistu Hailemariam. That
was her way of getting even with EPRP members.
382 Tower in the sky

Tadelech was distraught, and wanted to know what the

woman was trying to tell her. Brikti and I led her out of the area
telling her not to mind the "crazy woman." We took her to the
Emechat Bet and she was sitting on her bed when Brikti finally told
her that Berhanemeskel had been executed. She gave her the
newspaper that announced his execution.
Tadelech stared blankly past us and then tears poured down
her cheeks. Her entire body crumpled with grief It was a very
poignant moment. All we could do to alleviate her heartache was
remind her that she has three kids to remember him by. She leafed
through the newspaper and gazed at his picture with red and misty eyes.
Shortly afterwards, I felt the time had come to tell her about
Getachew. It hadn't seemed right to broach the subject when she
still didn't know about her own husband's death. "I knew about
you," I began. "Getachew Maru was my friend. He used to tell me
about Berhanemeskel and you. He wanted me to meet you both. But
Berhanemeskelleft before I got the chance to meet you."
My revelation blew her away.
"I remember Getachew saying something about a girl. I
remember also Berhane talking about this girl that Getachew was
involved with. Was it you? Well, this is amazing! What happened to
Getachew was really sad."
"I know. I often wonder if it was better if the Derg had
killed him."
"Getachew believed in dialogue," she said. "He believed he
would work things out with them. Berhane warned him not to trust
them and not to go to them whenever they called. The day he was
detained, Melikte Yohannes and Bekri had warned him not to go."
"I also told him they might harm him. He wouldn't listen," I
lamented.
"One day, Getachew told Berhane and me," continued
Tadelech, "that when the negotiation for the merger between Abyot
 Tower in the sky 383

and EPLO was taking place, he asked them who actually the EPLO
people were, He said, 'They told me they were with Berhanemeskel
Redda. That was when I thought we could work with them.' One of
the things that Berhane was accused of by the Party was cultivating
a personality cult around himself. It's ironic, then, that they were
using his name to convince others to work with them. Getachew
used to come to our house wearing khaki, white rimmed reading
glasses and a black berretta hat."
"That was his usual camouflage. It made him look old. I
never liked it, especially the hat. I feel bad for keeping silent about
what he used to tell me. I had never said anything to anyone. That is
the shame I have to live with for the rest of my life."
"Our faith in the Party prevented us from questioning. When
Berhane and Getachew talked about the weaknesses of the Party, I
used to get angry with them. They used to say to me, 'Here comes
the little Anarchist, '" Tadelech said.
Anarchist was the name the Derg gave to EPRP members.
Since that day, Tadelech and I never stopped talking about
th~two men. We went over and over again about how we met them,
what we did with them and what they had told us about the Party,
That was one way of keeping their memory alive.
Years later, I told her that all we talked about whenever we
met revolved around Berhanemeskel and Getachew. She looked up
at me and said, "You know, we treated these men as if they were
alive and that is why we have been unable to move on."
It is so true.
I had always known that if ever I came out of prison alive, I
would write a book about Getachew, that I would tell his story to
the entire world. As the years went by, I even became convinced that
my life was spared to tell his story.
"You know what I think?" I said to Tadelech one night after
she put the baby to bed. "We should write a book about Getachew
and Berhanemeskel and get it published when we get out. We have
384 Tower in the sky

to tell their stories. I've always felt that I should tell Getachew's
story."
"I want to write a book about Berhane too. Let's do it."
"Let's start right now."
We started working on our project right away. We sat down
every Monday night, after the baby has been put to sleep, to talk
about what we have written the whole week. News came to the
compound that there was going to be a search. I didn't know what
to do with my notes. After debating with myself, I tore them to
pieces. I didn't even tell Tadelech until after I did it. Tadelech had
destroyed hers too.

Tadelech's arrival at Kerchele made a huge difference in my life. I

didn't have close friends there. Loneliness and alienation had taken
their toll on me. Without hesitation, I left my Mekrus and joined
that of Tadelech's.
I found a good friend in her. I was often impressed by
Getachew's insight. He knew we could be friends. I often found it
impossible to believe that Getachew and Berhanemeskel had died
and Tadelech and I had become friends. Since she came, I regained
confidence in myself and trust in others. I allowed myself to make
friends and learned that the world is not that bad a place, after all.
A few months after Tadelech had her baby, my friend
Emebet came to Kerchele from Kefitegna 19. She was given four
years. It was so good to see her again after so long. Emebet and
Tadelech also became good friends. They had a lot in common.
Emebet studied at Haile Selassie University and then went to France
for further study and spoke French like Tadelech. The Derg had
killed their husbands and they had kids at home.
The story of Emebet and Tadelech was the story of many
prisoners in Kerchele.
 Tower in the sky 385

What cannot man live through!

-Fyodor Dostoevsky, The House ofthe Dead.

Kerchele was different from Kefitegna in tenns of the composition

of prisoners. It housed murderers, thieves, political prisoners and
others, unlike Kefitegna where almost all were political prisoners. It
was also home for those who had lost their mind or who feigned
madness like Zergi - the woman with the colorful beads that I saw
the first day I got there.
The overwhelming majority of political prisoners had no
sentences. They languished in prison year after year without
knowing their fate. Some of them had no affiliation to any
organization and were in j ail for no reason at all. Length of sentence
or length of stay in prison did not necessarily reflect a person's rank
in the Party or the League or any other organization for that matter.
Some prisoners had no files. Nobody even knew who had put them
in and for what.
It took years to sort that out and set them free.
Two or three year sentences were treated as days compared
to ten or fifteen. When a girl had only one more year to go people
talked about it as if she was leaving the next day. "You are lucky.
You have only one more year left," was a common remark. One
night, Hanna Tefera - Nebiyu Tefera's sister and a fellow Kefitegna
prisoner and who was given ten years - sat up on her top bunk and
clapped her hands and cried with excitement, "Attention everyone!
After four years, I would have only two more years to go!" Most of
us burst out with laughter but the older ones shed tears.
Long sentences were harder on those who were married and
had children. Marriages broke up and families were tom apart. Even
worse, children died, while their parents were languishing in prison.
This was the most tragic thing of all. The entire compound would be
gripped by griefbut mothers were stricken with terror and panic.
386 Tower in the sky

We lived in crowded bets - houses. Sostegna Bet sheltered

over one hundred prisoners at the time I got there. This was nothing
compared to the men's houses that took in up to seven hundred!
Sostegna Bet was a dungeon. It was made of corrugated zinc sheets
and was almost dark inside with no windows. It was stifling hot
during the day and chilly at night. There were single and double-
decker beds and, except for newcomers, almost everybody slept on
a bed. There was no toilet inside and a urine bucket was stuck in the
comer during the night. As a newcomer, I used to sleep on the dirt
floor near the door and the urine bucket. The stench was unbearable.
There were all kinds of prisoners in Adarash, unlike
Sostegna Bet, whose population was mainly EPRP. There were
wives and children of bureaucrats, ministers, army generals, and
feudal lords of the previous regime. They had already been there for
more than four years when I was brought in. Their crime was that
they were the children and/or wives of officials of the former
regime. There were also Eritrean prisoners of war, EPRP and
Meison members and at times a few murderers and thieves.
One hundred and seventy-five women were crowded into
Adarash. But it was cleaner and brighter than Sostegna Bet. Two
fluorescent lights glared at us all night. Unlike Kefitegna, where we
slept in the dark, lights were kept on during the night in Kerchele. If
the lights were out for any reason they were restored at once for fear
that we might escape.
There were two windows on opposite sides of Adarash.
Since they were in the middle area, it was stifling hot at night in the
upper section of the hall. It was called "the oven." At night, some
of the women in the "oven" section sat topless, their boobies
covered with scarves. The other section was called "the fridge." It
was chilly at night because of the draft coming in through the two
windows. Those in the "fridge" section usually wrapped themselves
 Tower in the sky 387

with gabi, particularly during the rainy season. There was a ''water
room" inside Adarash with a small window open twenty-four hours
a day. The air coming in through the window on cold nights made
the area even cooler.
Even though Adarash was better than Sostegna Bet in every
sense of the word, it had its own setbacks. There were women with
mental health disorders and they screamed incessantly in the middle
of the night. One of them shrieked every day around two in the
morning. It was a terrible screech and most of us were kept awake
for hours on end. At one time, about four women took turns
screaming in the middle of the night. One night it was so unbearable
many shed tears. The Discipline Committee member would call the
wardens when it became intolerable. The guards often pretended
they did not hear At times, they called the health assistants on duty,
a

who sedated the women with Largarctil. Other times, the

screeching woman would be taken to the mental institution only to
come back a few months later with screams worse than before.
It was a vicious circle.
Thieves had a section by themselves. We called them Oola -
slang for thief. Their house was a small room with a dirt floor and
mud walls. It was overcrowded during the rainy season. Many of
the temelalash - repeat offenders - stole and got caught on purpose
to be sheltered from the rain and the cold weather. Most Oolas were
proud of their trade and unabashedly called themselves leba - thief.
Some of the novices, including those from middle-class families
brought in for peccadilloes, usually felt embarrassed of what they
did and showed discipline and restraint. By the time they had served
two or three months, they had become unrecognizable. They had by
then learned the art of thievery from the veterans, who readily and
proudly imparted their expertise.
388 Tower in the sky

Water shortage at Kerchele was the most talked about

subject when I was at the Kefitegna. But never had I imagined it to
be so dire. There was only one standpipe outside for over five
hundred women. Adarash had a small one inside the building but the
precious drop clocked in after midnight, and briefly, too.
Women lined up their jerry cans, pails and water cans under
the large water pipe outside for days in the hope that a miracle
would take place under the plumbing. The pipe showed mercy twice
a day - in the morning and in the evening - and very often only the
lucky, the brawny and the bullies got water. Most took off
frustrated. It was usually Oolas who fetched water for political
prisoners and others for money or food.
The pipe was always left open and when water abruptly
gushed, a great deal of chaos ensued. Brawls broke out as people
always accused one another of jumping the queue. Fistfights were
not uncommon sights as "victims" seized the opportunity to release
pent-up energy. One or two women were often rushed to the clinic
with a bleeding nose or a scratched cheek. Precious water was also
wasted in the process.
Leaders arise in every crisis situation. The row around the
water pipe had been going on for quite a while until this woman
arrived on the scene. I didn't know what she was in for. She was tall
and commanded respect and inspired fear. She handled the situation
with an iron fist for which she was nick named dictu - diminutive
for dictator. Dictu would burst forth out of nowhere when the pipe
started running and silenced everybody with one word: Zor bey -
keep away! Or she would yell, "Put that jerry can back where it
was!" Everybody obeyed her. The self-appointed leader brought
sanity and order around the water pipe.
When I was with my previous Mekrus, each individual was
allowed to use only three jugs of water to wash herself. For
 Tower in the sky 389

someone like me, who loved water, it was hard to adjust to such
meager ration. There was only one "shower room" for all female
prisoners. Each individual was allocated two fifteen-minute shower
time slots on different days of the week. The list was posted at the
door of the clinic.
When it was my turn, I poured three jugs of water into a pail
and headed to the "shower room," wondering how I would be able
to "shower" and wash my hair with half a pail of water. What was
even worse was the "shower room," which used to be a toilet, was
locked from outside by a sliding lock. The woman before me locked
the door for me and I was just pouring the cold water on my body
when I heard a knock at the door. I heard someone warn me I had
only five minutes left. Oh, my God! Before I knew it, the door was
flung open. "Your time is up!"
I stood there naked with soap allover my body. The
interesting thing was that the "shower room" faced the gate, which
opened every second in the morning as male prisoners brought in
food to the gate. Men were not allowed into the compound. I
splashed water on my body and came out wrapped in a towel. Since
that day, I washed myself in a toilet used by everybody, including
the wardens. It was located mid-way between Sostegna Bet and the
clinic. Passersby popped in every minute, did their business and left,
while I was washing myself. The place was stinky and the traffic
heavy but I didn't mind. I also got used to taking a "shower" with
three jugs of water.
Roll call took place at six in the evening. We rushed to make
tea or cook supper on a coal-fire brazier before then. We feverishly
fanned the coal-fire with maragebia - a small and round straw fan.
Mekrus members may not necessarily be in the same house and
even if they were, supper was served before roll call. Supper for
most people might be a piece of bread and a cup of tea. The noise in
390 Tower in the sky

the compound was at its peak around roll call as individuals called
roll call mates: "Kotari meta! Kotari meta!" - roll call!
We had to stand in pairs in a straight line during roll calL A
newcomer or someone who had moved from another bet had to find
a roll call mate. The mate may not even be someone that person
usually talked to. But they queued up together every evening. The
sequence of the lineup remained the same day after day, year after
year. If a pair was number one, they remained number one until
they were both released. If only one of them is released, the other
one retained the number and found another roll call mate.
That served a purpose. There was only one toilet, Turkish
style, inside Adarash. One's tum to use the toilet was determined by
the roll call lineup sequence. The first woman on the lineup used the
toilet right away (even before roll call is over). Unless she was sick,
she was done for the night, or else she would have to wait till
number 175 has used the toilet, which was usually around twelve
o'clock at night. There were a few known individuals who took too
,
long and made the waiting even longer. However, we didn't need to
use the toilet before or after our turns unless there was an
emergency.
The roll call lineup also maintained our turns at the water
pump in the "water room." Water came after midnight and flowed
thin and painfully slowly. We had to fill up our jerry cans in the
dead of night Many of us fell asleep holding our jerry cans under
the water pipe.
Privacy was unthinkable, but many who slept in the lower
bunks draped their beds to make their own spaces. Those in the top
tier had to tough it out. The 'curtain' could be an old bed sheet or a
scarf tied around the bed.
Life in Kerchele could have been even worse were it not for
us prisoners who made it out to be what it had become.
 Tower in the sky 391

You desire to know the art ofliving, my friend? It is contained in one

phrase: make use ofsuffering.
-Henri Frederic Arniel

"We set out to build a utopia in the outside world but settled for
reforming Kerchele," my friend Dawit Sibihatu once observed.
Dawit was a fanner EPRP member thrown into Kerchele for years
without a sentence. Indeed, having spectacularly failed to build a
utopia in the nation at large, we turned things around and made
Kerchele habitable.
Proof of the triumphal power of the human spirit.
We formed committees that looked after our needs and
interests and pushed for many reforms. Committees such as Delday
(that looked after sleeping arrangements), Sports and Recreation
(that organized entertainment and sports), Food (that advocated for
better food provision) and Health (which pressed for adequate
provision of health care) met once a week and pressured the
administration to make changes and reforms in our interest. Chairs
of all committees met once a month to discuss issues and to further
exert influence on the administration to yield to our demands and
needs.
We had learned how to struggle for our rights and we made
use of it.
I became chair of the Sports and Recreation Committee and
Secretary of the Kine! - Arts - Group. The Group rehearsed every
week and performed to the prison audience. It was formed and was
active around the time of the Derg's Enat Hager Tiri - a call of the
motherland campaign - to raise funds to the war against the Eritrean
Liberation Fronts in the North and the Somali invaders in the East.
During the campaign, famous singers such as Tilahun Gessese and
Mohamed Ahmed performed at Kerchele in front of thousands of
pnsoners.
392 Tower in the sky

The overwhelming majority of prisoners did something to make

their dreary existence bearable. There were, of course, a few who
merely marked time. But most of these women suffered from
mysterious illnesses. Knitting was the most common pastime for
many. Others devised ingenious survival strategies. They sold
cigarettes and matches, sweaters, scarves, embroidered pens,
plaques, colorful baskets, and coin pouches. We bought them and
proudly gave them as gifts to family members on holidays,
birthdays and weddings. Embroidered pens with names of our loved
ones engraved on them, plaques with poems and sweaters were the
most favored gifts. Eritrean prisoners of war mass produced baskets
and sold them to the outside world through networks.
Oolas sold their labor to the 'elite.' They washed clothes,
made beds, cooked, washed dishes, and on Sunday called names on
behalf of their 'employers.' They were usually paid in-kind in the
form of food or articles of clothing. Some were paid in cash on Sunday.
A new bet was added from the men's compound to address
over-crowding. The building swallowed up all the residents of
Sostegna Bet and many more. It kept the name Sostegna Bet. It was
by far better than the one before.
A cooking stall was built with corrugated zinc sheets. Some
entrepreneurial non-political prisoners squatted with tomatoes,
potatoes, hot green peppers and coal, turning it into a teeming
market place. Others sold such niceties as Nivea Cream and
Vaseline. Oolas and other non-political prisoners, who did not have
the luxury of indulging in such extravagances, nevertheless
purchased fingerfuls when they were about to go to the soccer
match, to school, or on a Sunday with the hope of receiving a
visitor. They threw fifteen cents on the vender's outstretched palm
and stuck their index fingers in the containers to scoop out the
cream. They showed their fingers to the vender to reassure her that
 Tower in the sky 393

they had not taken more than they have paid for. They spread the
cream on the extremities and off they were with lubricated faces and
limbs.
School was the best thing that happened to us in Kerchele. It
was also our greatest achievement. The first political prisoners
taught literacy under a tree. Soon a school was built in the main
compound. It was a large building with a dirt floor and mud walls
and no partitions. Several classes went on simultaneously in the same
room. Grade 12 might be going on beside a literacy class. Several
classrooms were later built and the school that started with literacy,
expanded to high school and vocational training.
Vocational training in horticulture, poultry, auto-mechanics,
drafting and building construction was given. There were many
success stories about those who graduated from these courses and
made use of their skills when they got out. Language instructions in
French, Italian, German and Arabic were also given.
I took French, building construction, drafting, a six-week
criminal law course, soccer refereeing, first aid and some Italian. I
did a few weeks of Primary Health Care. A female warden had to
escort me to Primary Health Care classes but later they complained
that there were not enough wardens to take me back and forth. I was
told that I wouldn't be able to do the practical aspect of the course
at a hospital, so I was obliged to discontinue.
At first, men and women were not allowed in the same
classroom, and classes took place in shifts. After painstaking
negotiations with the prison administration, 'co-education' started.
A female warden sat outside the classrooms and watched any
'improper' behavior between men and women.
Grade twelve students sat for the ESLCE (Ethiopian School
Leaving Certificate Examination), a requirement to enroll at the
university, as with any other school in the country. The school
394 Tower in the sky

scored the highest in the country and was rated number one for
several years in a row.
There were all kinds of prisoners who were qualified to give
the courses: medical doctors, accountants, mathematicians, lawyers,
chemists, historians, economists, elementary and high school
teachers. I taught literacy and science in grade eight and English in
grade nine for a short time. Tadelech taught history in grade twelve
and gave French lessons. She had gotten her degree in Switzerland
in History.
A night school was opened for the wardens. The prisoners
not only taught one another, but the wardens as well. Older wardens
were able to complete elementary school and the younger ones, who
had discontinued their education, got the opportunity to graduate
from high school.
The women's compound had a clinic managed by a female
health assistant. When a volunteer at the clinic was released, her
position was up for grabs. I got the position after writing a test. I
was able to write the test because of the length of my sentence. I
moved to the Emechat Bet, where Tadelech and her daughter were
staying. That was the reward for giving free service to the clinic. It
was the best thing that happened to me.
There were less than twenty women at the Emechat Bet. The
room had a parquet floor and was clean, with a water pipe inside the
washroom. The children had cribs and the mothers slept on beds. I
was the only one who slept on the floor.
I later moved to the ward, which was even better. I got the
permission to bring a friend of mine, Chuchu Negussie - a former
EPRP member - from Adarash to work with me. The ward was big
and had about twenty or so beds. Chuchu and I slept on a double-
decker bed. I slept on the top bunk and Chuchu on the lower. We
waxed the parquet floor and covered the wall with newspaper and
 Tower in the sky 395

beautiful pictures tom from magazines. We made glue from a paste

of semolina gruel.
There was a shower in the Turkish style toilet in the ward.
Even some of our friends from Adarash took their daily showers
there. It was clean and for the most part only Chuchu and I used it.
The ward also served as the "dining room" for our Mekrus and a
meeting place for all my friends. We ate, chatted, dressed, danced,
sang, combed our hair, laughed, and cried in that room for over
three years. Often, Chuchu and I got permission from the good wardens
for our friends to sleep over.
We even smuggled in a tape recorder a couple of times to
listen to songs and tape ourselves singing and talking, Samson
Gashaw, a former EPRP member and Chuchu's aynuka - sweetheart
by sight -: was the one who lent us the tape recorder, which we
managed to keep a secret.
Our friends gathered in the ward to listen to music. When
rumor floated around that there was a tape recorder in the ward, we
immediately returned it to Samson. Radios and tape recorders were
forbidden items. Later, the tape was confiscated from the men and
my friend Dawit Sibihatu had to spend all day in a punishment cell
for one month for being found with it. He had to be on his feet for
eight hours a day because of the urine soaked floor,
Family visits were periodically allowed in the office. It was
an exciting' and anxious moment, especially for those who had
children. The permission, which could be obtained either at the
request of the prisoner or family members, may not be granted all
the time. The feeling we experienced after a family visit in the
office was indescribable. We talked about it for days.
Sunday was the biggest prize of all. Family members and
friends came to visit. We looked our best to show that we were
doing fine. Some prisoners even looked better than many family
396 Tower in the sky

members. Sunday also meant, pay day, for many of us. Visitors
gave us money. That saw us through the week and we awaited the
next Sunday with great anticipation.
Occasionally, family members or friends brought wedding,
christening or birthday pictures, which were considered great
treasures. We proud.ly showed them around and studied every detail.
Some of our siblings, such as my younger sister Negede and
Tadelech's younger sister, were abroad at the time, and we looked
at the pictures they sent us with so much joy and pride.
Those were our links to the outside world, to normal life.
Water became available after more pipes were installed.
Shower stalls were built, which eliminated the shortage of shower
rooms. A teacher who taught drafting built them. I was one of his
students. Some of my classmates and I helped him install the pipes
and shower heads. Water shortages became a thing of the past.
Suddenly, there was water flowing everywhere. Time slots for
shower became history.
Unlike Kefitegna, life in Kerchele was less communaL
Mekrus members were on the whole friends, siblings, fellow
Kefitegna, Meakelawi or police station prisoners or members of a
religious group. Mekrus played many important roles in our lives. It
provided material, emotional, psychological and social support.
Without it, many prisoners would have had serious health problems.
As it was, many suffered from various kinds of psychological
ailments. Mekrus also alleviated the burden on family members.
Many couldn't afford to bring food to their children, even once a
week. Those who had the means accommodated individuals who
could not provide for the Mekrus.
The prison had a small library stacked with books mainly
confiscated from prisoners. Later on, a nicer and bigger library was
built with money raised through the prisoners' shop. Female
 Tower in the sky 397

prisoners were allowed to go to the library only on Thursday

mornings. We were led like a flock of sheep by two women
wardens. We checked out books overnight; my friend Dawit
Sibihatu, the librarian, brought them to us, just before roll call. He
came back to collect them in the morning.
There were six soccer teams in the compound. Membership
was usually assigned, just like sleeping areas when prisoners first
arrived at the prison. We were recruited based on our political
affiliations. The teams were politically charged and there was much
animosity amongst some of them. Political differences, especially
between Meison and EPRP, had been imported into Kerchele.
The prison administration threatened to ban the teams unless
the names were changed. Netsanet (freedom) was renamed Nyala
(antelope), Andenet (unity) was christened Nib (bee), Abyotawi
. Netsebrak (revolutionary spark) became Walia (walia ibex),
Wozader (proletariat) was renamed Gureza (colobus monkey),
Tegbareid (technical) became Blue Nile and Teramaj (progressive)
was renamed Awraris (rhinoceros).
The overwhelming majority of members of Nyala, Nib and
Walya were fanner EPRP members. I was assigned to Nyala.
Gureza membership was for the most part Meison and Awraris
members were mainly security agents, former cadres, Kebele
members and soldiers.
Soccer was the biggest attraction in the compound. If there
was anything, even if temporarily, that transported prisoners to
another blissful world, it was soccer. It glimmered on Kerchele like
a shining star, giving meaning and purpose to life. It alleviated
boredom and anxiety which were typical of prison life. In the early
days, many girls vented pent up emotions through fistfights when
they returned from a soccer game because of the passion
surrounding soccer as well as the politically charged atmosphere.
398 Tower in the sky

Saturday morning or Friday afternoon, women curled their

hair and sat in the sun all morning to look their best at the soccer
games. Saturday afternoon, just after lunch, they lined up in pairs at
the gate to go to the game. The young, the old and the sick came out
in droves to pour out passion and enthusiasm around the soccer
pitch. Besides the Saturday and Sunday entertainment by the six
teams, the once-a-month "all star" game drove spectators to
intoxication. The "all star" team played a few times professional
soccer teams from outside, which was a bonus.
Each team built its own "tearoom" in the men's compound.
All prisoners went to "opening parties," including women. I went to
the Ketero compound for the housewarming party of one of the
teams. That was my only trip to men's compound. A tearoom was
built in the women's quarter and a ping-pong table was set up. Only
a few of us played the game. But one of the royal family members
made good use of the place. She taught children drawing, writing
and reading there.
We played volleyball for leisure or team tournament. I
played as a defender for Nyala for a good while. An "all star" team
once played a very famous professional volleyball team - Etu Mela
Michi - from outside the compound. I played in that match.
The best team in town trashed us.
The only occasional hurdle to playing volleyball In the
compound was Adey Silas. She was an old woman jailed because of
her son who had joined one of the Eritrean Liberation Fronts. She
weaved a basket sitting under one of comers of the volleyball net.
She always refused to go elsewhere, when a game was going on.
Every time the ball bounced on her head, she pricked it with her
owl. We were not discouraged so easily. We would immediately
raise money and ask one of the wardens to buy us a new one.
 Tower in the sky 399

Aynuka spiced up life in prison. Before the arrival of

political prisoners, male convicts had women aynukas whom they
may have never talked to. They fell in love with them by sight. In
olden times, the only time men set eyes on women prisoners was
when the latter were on their way to court. The only thing a man
could do when he saw his aynuka was wink at her from a distance,
and that was if she happened to see him. The woman may not even
know she was somebody's aynuka unless she received winks on her
way to court or a gift through a warden. Men often fought over a
woman without her knowledge.
When political prisoners came to the scene, they took
aynuka to a higher plane. Before 'co-education' started, they
exchanged love letters tucked under books and passed on through
female teachers, who had limited access to men. After 'co-
education' started, aynuka took center stage in school life. Almost
everybody had an aynuka. No longer was it done through an
intermediary. Men and women could sit and talk for hours under the
watchful eyes of Etiye Feleku - one of the female wardens. If Etiye
Feleku was in a good mood, she would let aynukas or any male and
female friends sit and talk for as long as they wanted. If she was in a
foul mood or if she wanted one of the well-to-do prisoners to slip a
note in her hands, she would walk around telling everybody to get
up benekis - one by one. There were many serenades for aynukas
sung by women during farewell parties or other occasions.
~'}n- li£j:tj>[ ~OJ- lin- htah~>[ ~OJ­

i)1),ev JiA ~cr PO'?1: 1/1f 'ItO-

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400 Tower in the sky

We organized farewell parties for prisoners who had

finished their terms. The day before a girl was released; she placed
curlers in her hair and sat in the sun all day. She washed, scrubbed,
and gave away things that she would not take home with her. There
was a feeling of elation among her friends. At night, a party would
start; tea and treats would be served, and then all would start singing.

It 111 , fltlulJ;rA ;;JI,.7J1..~'"

'11 OZOZ~ dD11,e/f r;'7·
nj?,fln UZOZ~ ;,~nA7f h1.
tr~r ,e~;rA or mLtf.
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'ttl:C ~7 aeo» Df'1r /J'r~6

The farewell party was also an occasion for prisoners to

express their own anxieties, hopes and wishes.
'pI) nd'J~11 .JIe ,//~ '} ,e~;;:A
n,l-line An. },~;r ,elf£j/l
J,£Jh7i tD~7: Itfl/AAll (j:t1,
;ruo6pA:r h 1,( IJ- rU06.;r7- OJ~
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1.617j!, ;,,1:r f'}d, /lUII.e
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uo'i,e- uo'i,e- h,,:r 1~r;' 1~S·
irA OJ,e~,ecr J.h1: ,eFJ:,t·:rLJ

BIen was a former EPRP member who was in about the same
time I was. She came up with an ingenious plan of making money.
When she exhausted her supply of cigarettes, she placed a bowl on a
 Tower in the sky 401

mattress, stood in the middle of the room and -sang English songs.
Bettye Swann's 'Make me yours' was her favorite. We got up and
threw cigarettes or coins in the bowl. That saw BIen through the rest
of the week.
Books became more and more accessible and even abundant
in Kerchele. In the beginning, Marxist books were not allowed,
even though the Derg professed to be Socialist. No one wanted to
read them, anyway. The authorities did not allow philosophy books
either as they were suspected of politically corrupting prisoners.
Videos became available. We went to watch them at the
school, paying fifty cents per movie. We watched films such as The
Champ, Amadeus, Gandhi, The Deer Hunter and Endless Love.

The food ration was a nightmare. For the most part convicts
depended on it. The bread was so sour many suffered from stomach
ailments. What is more, on one side of the room, a woman may sit
with a piece of dry bread and tea in a tomato sauce can. Next to her,
someone else might be having injera with chicken or beef sauce. It
was often difficult to witness that. However, we shared with others
whatever we had.
Every fortnight was a barbecue day for us. Meat was
rationed out and served an hour or so before roll call. We crowded
around the middle of the gravel-capped courtyard to welcome the
meat, excitedly fanning the coal-fire in our braziers. The meat came
in a half-barrel, hanging from two wooden bars carried by two
female wardens. Everybody got a fistful of boiled meat. We called it
ye menge sega - sega - meat and menge diminutive for mengist -
government - or Mengistu - for Mengistu Hailemariam. We
barbecued the boiled meat on the coal-fire until it turned brown.
Some even prepared awaze (a hot condiment prepared from ground
402 Tower in the sky

red pepper, salt and lemon or lime juice) ahead of time In

anticipation of the menge sega.
It was so divine we could forgive Mengistu his brutality.
We earned the respect of the wardens as our relationship
with them evolved. In the pre-revolutionary era, prisoners in
Kerchele were mainly thieves, murderers and others convicted for
civil violations. It was common for wardens to treat cons as their
personal servants. They brought all kinds of chores from home such
as grinding, washing and weaving, and had convicts do it for them
for free. Often they beat them for disobedience or for not
performing personal chores properly. They stripped them of their
dignity and subj ected them to sub-human treatment. Things changed
after the arrival of political prisoners. We gave convicts back their
dignity and freedom as permitted by prison conditions. Some of the
older wardens hated us for changing the status quo. They could not
treat prisoners as chattel anymore and whip them at will. Cons went
to school instead of slaving for guards.
Hibret Souk (a prisoners' shop) was opened and run by the
prisoners. Besides providing basic items to us, it gave employment
opportunities to some prisoners. Most importantly, it provided freed
prisoners, who had come from the provinces and had been a long
time in prison, with transportation and start-up money. Many of the
prisoners who had committed murder had lost their social networks
and had to start life from scratch.
Searches took place in the compound from time to time. The
plan always leaked and we hid things not allowed in the compound
such as knives, radios, tape recorders and bottles. The wardens, who
were also the ones who confiscated them, smuggled most of these
items in. Knives were either smuggled or carved out of the
corrugated zinc fencing. We gave money to trusted wardens to buy
us radios.
 Tower in the sky 403

Those who owned radios listened to music laying down on

their beds, radio stuck to their ears and their heads covered with
gabi. The volume was so low, even the person sitting on the next
bed might not hear. We called our favorite songs medeberia - blues.
If a favorite song of a girl was playing when she was socializing
with friends, somebody would callout, "Hey Aster! Your
medeberiat" She would rush over to her bed, cover her head with
gabi and stick her radio on her ear. Many newcomers and convicts
never knew what medeberia meant. Most cons wouldn't think twice
to report us to the wardens if they suffered the slightest offense by a
political prisoner.
Moged is the slang term for prison rumor. It was jocularly
defined as an acronym for Morale Genbi Dirijit (organization to
build morale). Moged was essentially unsubstantiated news of
release or amnesty, which spread like waves (the real meaning of
the slang term) throughout the prison community. It was these
stories of hope and release that kept most prisoners going.
Moged usually started circulating in the compound around
July or even as early as June. It went wild particularly in August as
we approached September 12 - the date the Derg took power,
officially celebrated as Revolution Day. The Derg released a few
prisoners for the occasion as a token of amnesty.
Sometimes Moged was just made up by individuals. It
diffused in the compound with lightning speed. By the time it came
back to its creators, it had become so elaborate with many additions
and omissions that they didn't even recognize it. Other times,
Moged was based on facts leaked from security or the Derg office,
often intentionally. The chief of security, Colonel Tesfaye
Woldeselassie, was rumored to be the number one creator of
Moged. Parents would come to Kerchele and confide in their
daughter or son that they had been told by the Colonel that she or he
404 Tower in the sky

would be released on Revolution Day. It mayor may not be true,

but that was how the Colonel sent many weeping parents home,
June, July and August seemed like running down a slope. The
months flew by, even for those of us not taken in by the Moged
hype. After Revolution Day, it was like going uphill allover again
for many prisoners.
Most prisoners were superstitious when it came to being
released. Gede - a species of falcon, which also meant luck - is
believed to be the harbinger of good news. She was the ultimate
lucky charm, A gede usually showed up just before roll call and
installed itself majestically on the roof of Adarash. Women
assembled in the courtyard and watched it with reverence, as if it
had been sent down directly from the heavens. Some swore in the
name of the Good Lord that some people would soon be released.
Even the release of one prisoner the next day or the day after was
proof that gede had brought the good news. At times a Moged
coincided with the arrival of gede.
That sparked a wave of euphoria in the compound.
The prison compound was so shabby it was hard to believe
human beings actually lived there. Sara Cosio, a half-Italian, half-
Ethiopian former EPRP member, completely transformed the
courtyard. She had the area dug to plant flowers and grass. We
named it Cosio Square. It was nice to see something green for a
change. Many lay down or napped in the "garden." During searches,
many, including me, hid radios and knives there.
Gabi and a warrant (gabi ena warrant) usually meant a
definite release in Kerchele. In previous times it could have meant
an execution or a transfer to another prison. A prisoner was asked to
come out with gabi and a warrant (a piece of paper with the name,
date of detention, reason for detention, length of sentence and date
of release, if any). A male friend of mine had mounted mine (with
 Tower in the sky 405

the fifteen-year sentence) on a piece of wood frame to preserve it

for posterity. .
Prison life would have been even more difficult had it not
been for the unfailing support of family members, visiting ~~ce a
week standing in line for hours rain or shine. It was never easy. I
felt particularly guilty when my mother and sisters had to come on
holidays. They came first to Kerchele and then went home to
celebrate. Those were the most painful moments.
We might have been in prison, but they were the ones who
carried most of the burden. We were indebted to them with
boundless gratitude. As for me, it was the support from my family
that helped me cruise through my prison years with human dignity.
406 Tower in the sky

Man---that is the mystery .... I work with this mystery, because I want
to be a man.
-Fyodor Dostoyevsky

What does it mean to be human? What is human nature? Kerchele

was the place where I came face to face with these questions. We
were conditioned and streamlined in the Party, and almost all of us
behaved uniformly. In my pre-prison days, I was too green to
understand the ebb and flow of existence. Whatever took place at
the Kejitegna, I saw it in terms of political context. Here in
Kerchele, I learned the complexity of human nature. It lay before
me in its naked state. Here evil is raw and frightening. It wasn't
disguised under politics, which made it look understandable when it
really was not. There was no ideological justification. It was just
stark. What does it mean to be human? The answer was often scary,
sometimes a mystery. But life would have been depraved, atrocious
and depressing were it not for its redeeming aspects.
There were murderers in Kerchele who had committed
heinous crimes. Every time I saw one of these, I asked myself, how
could a human being do what she did? To my horrof, only humans
were capable of committing such crimes.

Among those who committed murder was Zinash. She was tall,
slim, beautiful, and had long hair. She came in for killing a four-
year-old boy. She quarreled with the boy's mother and in order to
punish her, she crushed a razor and made the child swallow it with
water. When the boy didn't die, she hanged him from the rooftop of
his parents' house. What could have a four-old boy done to deserve
that? It was sickening. We were all stunned and repulsed by such
atrocity. I could feel my blood run cold in my veins every time I
 Tower in the sky 407

saw that beautiful woman standing at the doorstep of Adarash,

leisurely combing her long and lustrous hair. How could such an
angelic figure commit such a horrible crime?
It was beyond my comprehension.
Zinash was on the news and on the Polisena Ermijaw -
newspaper of the police force. Her crime has been so horrific it
caused quite a stir both in and outside of the prison compound. But
her story did not end there.
She got life, having children being the extenuating
circumstance. That was nothing compared to what she did to
herself. She started losing weight to the point of being emaciated.
She became bed-ridden and was admitted into the ward. All kinds
of tests were done and the doctors affirmed that there was no
organic cause to explain her condition. Finally, she was sent to the
hospital. The day before her departure, I went to the ward with
clean sheets to change her bed. The woman who was caring for her
lifted her up with both hands so that I could change the sheets.
Zinash slowly and painstakingly turned her head and turned
her eyes toward the woman with hollow and lusterless eyes. Her
cheekbones were protruded and her muscles wasted. She had shrunk
to a skinny twelve-year:old girl. Her hair had fallen off almost
completely and whatever remained had become thin and dull. She
couldn't move her arms or her legs. The soiled sheet was covered
with peeled skin. I had never seen anything like it. I stood there
staring at her with almost veneration.
It was compelling.
This woman has gone through a terrible penance and bears
tremendous suffering. She has quietly precipitated her own death.
Compassion and admiration stirred in me for the woman who had
committed the most horrible crime I had ever heard of.
I admired her capacity to suffer.
408 Tower in the sky

Some of those who had committed no less crimes feigned

madness in the hope that their sentences would be reduced. Those
who had killed children had become mad, but I doubted their
insanity. When they became nuisance to the rest of us, they were
sent to the mental institution. I believed that was where they became
mad, if at all. I had not seen in them the capacity to suffer as Zinash,
Their insanity seemed an escape, to me at least, from whatever was
troubling them deep inside.
Zinash didn't simulate madness. She faced her guilt squarely
and succumbed to suffering for what she had done. I came to
believe that there was no harsher punishment than one meted out by
a person's conscience. I became mystified by the workings of the
human conscience. Though I was in no position to forgive or
condemn anyone, I forgave her because of her capacity to suffer.
What Zinash went through appeared to me repentance par
excellence. I found it humbling.
She later died in the hospital.

Zergi was jailed for killing her step-son with rat poison. She was
given twenty or twenty-five years. She, like Zinash, had killed a
child, but showed no contrition, or so it seemed. We didn't see any
telltale sign of repentance. Did I have to see it to believe it? As
humans, we always demanded to see remorse in others for
wrongdoing. Perhaps this satisfies some deep-seated need in us for
reassurance. Perhaps it was a sublime human quality we desired to
possess and to see in others. All I knew was that Zergi was too
coarse to have such a refined human quality.
She was no Zinash.
Zergi was what we called Awko abed - one who habitually
feigns madness. The potential to do evil was also palpable in her. If
you wanted to irritate her, you just had to say "rat poison." She
 Tower in the sky 409

would roll her eyes and fix them on you in a way that warned you
your days are numbered. I always recoiled in utter terror when I saw
those chilling eyes. They were small but carried the seeds of danger.
What really intrigued me about Zergi was why she simulated
madness. Was it her way of telling us that whatever she did was
prompted by circumstances beyond her? Was it her way of coming
to terms with guilt? One thing was certain: her simulation had given
her the freedom that other prisoners could not enjoy, such as hurling
a torrent of insults at the guards or not taking a shower for a year or
two.

Bogeye, the old woman who threw our beddings away the day we
arrived at Kerchele, was in for murdering her Italian husband. She
was given twenty-five years. She had already served eighteen when
I got there. We all believed that she was crazy. Whether or not she
was crazy because of what she did or due to her long stay in prison
wasn't clear to me. She was surely a subject of psychotherapy.
Bogeye had so many superstitions that forced her to
constantly be on the lookout for malevolence intended on her. For
instance, she believed that odd numbers were a bad omen. Male
wardens came just before six to help out with roll call. The sick, the
old and the mentally challenged were allowed to stay in, while the
rest were lining up in pairs outside to be counted. A male and a
female warden would go in and count those inside. "One, two,
three, four, five," counts a male warden.
"Six!" shouts Bogeye, sitting on her top bunk bed.
"Oh, was it six? I thought I counted five. One, two three,
four, five ..."
"Six!" shouts Bogeye again.
410 Tower in the sky

"You counted five. Don't listen to her. She is crazy. Bogeye,

shut up so that we can do the roll call," would interject a female
warden.
Bogeye did that every time the number was odd and a new
warden always went through the same ritual every time she did that.
It was around the time I came to Kerchele. I was reading a
book lying down on one of the girls' bed, when I heard these two
older women chatting. "I was so happy I ululated upon hearing the
five-year sentence," said Etiye Alemitu.
"How can you ululate when you are given five years?"
"I thought they were going to kill me. I didn't care how
many years I got as long as they didn't kill me. That was why I
ululated."
Bogeye, who was sitting and knitting on her top bunk,
looked down and said, "Alemitu, six years is nothing. It will be
gone before you know it!"
Bogeye didn't like certain kinds of names, such as Hiwot or
Sophia. She believed they had an ominous import. Since she didn't
like my name, she gave me a few, one of which was Emebet. She
didn't like many people either. She liked me despite the dislike she
had taken to my name. She believed that I was one of the very few
who were not spell-casters.
To Bogeye, people were always on the lookout to bespell
her, so she is always .on guard. If she saw a woman scratching or
simply touching her chin, her forehead or her eyes, she would
automatically do the same. That was her way of "aborting" an
impending magical spell. She never missed any movements that
signaled a looming spell. If you passed by her without even
realizing that she was walking beside you, she would circle you to
untangle the magical spell you'd just cast on her, or were about to.
 Tower in the sky 411

Bogeye could be fun during the day, but she was annoying
at night. She would start her unceasing and senseless monologue
after ten o'clock and many newcomers found themselves unable to
sleep. She talked about how one day she was so dressed up and
went to the market and met him there... She did the same thing
early in the morning, rudely awakening us alL People at Sostegna
Bet had to cope with that every day. I believed that Bogeye was
crazy, but there were times she knew what she was doing. Was she
really crazy? I would never know. Like Zergi, her craziness allowed
her certain liberties. For instance, she would open apart the zinc
sheets of the fence and watch the men in the ward adjoining the
women's compound which was unthinkable for another prisoner to
do.

Biri came from the central province of Shoa. Biri was a respectable,
generous and kind person. She was stoic and did very well at
school. She killed her husband and buried him in her one-room
house, then continued to live there, sleeping directly above the dirt
floor where she had interred her husband's body. She told her
neighbors that her husband had gone to visit his family in another
town. They eventually got suspicious when the husband had not
returned even a year later, and reported his disappearance to the
police. When Biri got wind of it, she burned her house and took
flight to the South, where she lived for three years married to
another man.
The police had publicized her photo nationwide. One day
they apprehended her, while she was shopping at a market. They
brought her to Kerchele and she was given life.
There was something about some of those who had
committed murder, like Zergi, that bespoke their capability to
commit crimes. There was nothing about Biri that indicated that. I
412 Tower in the sky

often said to Tadelech, "If somebody like Biri is capable of

committing a crime, there is no reason why I wouldn't be able to.
What is in Biri must be in me too."
Growing up, I'd always thought that murderers belonged to
a separate set of people who had some overpowering reason to kill.
Kerchele had taught me that they are like everybody else and that,
as humans, we all have the seeds of evil planted in us. Some of
these people had committed crimes with premeditation and others in
a fit of anger often for trivial reasons. But what prompts people to
take such actions? How can a person as kind, generous, and correct
as Biri kill another human being?
The human mind is quite a mystery.

It is interesting to see why and how human beings would do

anything in their power to do things that are prohibited. In Kerchele,
many people would die for a glass of alcohol. Going to the hospital
provided an excellent opportunity for drinking. If you could bribe
the wardens (family members usually did it for us), you could meet
your family members at the hospital and go home. Some didn't
even have to go to the hospital.
We female prisoners were escorted by male and female
wardens when we went to the hospital. The best excuse was to
complain of persistent toothache. Once we left the compound, the
male wardens would leave us with the female wardens at the
hospital and go their own way. We would meet them at the end of
the day at the hospital or near Kerchele, and walk together to the
compound.
If a prisoner escaped, the warden who was responsible for
him for that day was jailed for three months. Only a few political
prisoners managed to escape. For the most part, everyone returned
at the end of the day.
 Tower in the sky 413

Once, four of us were taken to Menilik II Hospital, all

complaining of tooth pain. The female wardens who escorted us
couldn't have been more different. One of them was Emama
Tarikua, a very kind and lenient elderly woman, and the other was
Madam Brown, who was indeed very inflexible. She was called
Madam Brown because of the henna that turned her hair into red
brown. As soon as we arrived at the hospital, Madam Brown sat on
the pavement and started crying.
"What happened?" inquired Emama Tarikua, putting her
hand on her cheek.
"1 know what the girls are up to. They are poised to go
home. They will have me lose my job," she sobbed.
"Who is going home? Am I not responsible for the girls as
you are?" asked Emama Tarikua a look of disgust imprinted on her
wrinkled face. Emama Tarikua went to have us registered and came
back. We then asked both wardens if we could go and get
something to eat. Madam Brown let a torrent of tears saying she
"knew it was coming."
Emama Tarikua convinced her that nothing was going to
happen and we went and sat behind the fruit stall outside the
hospital. We contributed money to buy beer. Madam Brown
watched us with resignation. She knew that there was nothing she
could do at that point. Once we collected the money, Gifti Ebba, a
non-political prisoner - and I went to buy beer accompanied by
Emama Tarikua.
Gifti and I had two bottles of beer each and Emama Tarikua
one at the store. We went back to the back of the fruit stall. We had
bought each of the girls and ourselves two bottles of beer, besides
the two Gifti and I had at the store. Everybody kind of got tipsy and
started giggling. Madam Brown watched the drama with half
disgust and half resignation.
414 Tower in the sky

I had earlier had one of the wardens call Sisay Abdulkadir, a

friend of mine from campus days, before we left Kerchele. He came
and took us to an eatery to have lunch. We had another round of
beer with lunch and by then everybody was quite mellow. When we
got back to the hospital, we had become so unmanageable Emama
Tarikua surmised to get us all an appointment for another day. "I
cannot let you see the doctor in this state," she enjoined concern and
regret inscribed on her creased face.
That meant another opportunity to drink! The truck that
brought us arrived late in the afternoon. All of us went in the back
and Gifti and I begged the driver to take us for a joyride through
Piassa. The two of us stood up on the back of the truck and Emama
Tarikua pleaded with us to be seated like the other girls. We
refused. Madam Brown watched us with aversion. We waved at
every passerby, including at police and army officers riding in Land
Rovers.
When we arrived in Kerchele the driver dropped us off at the
gate. Before entering the compound, Emama Tarikua begged us to
walk in a straight line and not giggle so that no one would suspect
we'd been drinking. She told us to hold hands so that we could walk
in a straight line.
On occasion, alcohol was smuggled into the prison
compound. On the eve of one Genna - Ethiopian Christmas
celebrated on January seventh - my friends and I wanted to throw a
party in the ward. We contributed money to buy alcohol. We spent
the day cooking, cleaning and making beds for everybody.
Around four in the afternoon, one of the wardens working
on the liquor smuggling project, broke the news that the "ship had
sunk," which meant the drinks have been confiscated. There was a
huge garden behind the women's compound and that was the "pier"
where the "ship docked." It was usually there the confiscation
 Tower in the sky 415

occurred. We were not going to give up so easily, and we raised

money again and gave it to a warden. We anxiously awaited the
arrival of the drinks. To our relief, the warden brought them safely
to the clinic in a box.
The second hurdle was getting the permission for all our
friends coming from Sostegna Bet, Adarash and Emechat Bet.
Permission depended on the wardens on duty. You wouldn't know
who would be on duty for the night till after fOUf in the afternoon.
On a day like that, prayers are sent to the high heavens that wardens
like Madam Brown would not be working. Fortunately, they were
not that night.
Chuchu covered the door and the window of the ward with
blankets so that the wardens couldn't peek through the crevices. She
then turned the tape recorder on. Dinner was served. There were
about ten of us. Normally, it was just Chuchu and me. After dinner
we planned to spend the night dancing till our feet hurt. Drinks were
served and in no time most of us were knocked out. Tadelech,
Alemash and Genet were the only ones who were sober. The party
was over even before it began.
In the morning Tadelech told me that there was a half-bottle
of brandy left over and that we had to hide it. We looked frantically
for it but couldn't find it. It was a mystery. There was a patient
admitted into the ward a few days prior to Genna. Suddenly, I saw a
bottle sitting on the small table beside her. Then I noticed that the
woman was staring upwards lifelessly. I believed she was dead. I
ran to the clinic to call the health assistant.
The health assistant found out that the patient's blood
pressure had spiked. She had drunk the half-bottle of Brandy after
everybody had fallen asleep! Fortunately, she was okay and the
incident was covered up since the health assistant was a friend of
ours.
 J

416 Tower in the sky

There were political prisoners who would have made good

specimens for Sigmund Freud. At night or during the day, a cluster
of girls rushed an "unconscious" girl into the clinic. The health
assistants would inject the girl Vitamin B Complex without the girl
knowing what it is, just to make her feel that she is being given a
medication. At times the male health assistant, working at the clinic,
injected a girl with distilled water, used to dissolve penicillin or
streptomycin, when he ran out of Vitamin B Complex shots.
Seconds after they were given the injections, these girls "regained"
consciousness and opened their eyes.
The health assistants would wink at each other and smile.
Some of the girls, who transported the "patient" to the clinic, would
tell their friends to go back to their bet so that they too won't
"start." The "disease" was like an epidemic. Once it started, at least
two or three girls were hauled into the clinic every day.
Some of these girls would throw insults at their interrogators
or refuse to confess, giving the impression to people around that
they were reliving the torture experience. Most of them, however,
had never been tortured according to accounts by prisoners tossed in
with them at some Kefitegna or police station.
I thought that was their way of coping with reality in prison.
 Tower in the sky 417

When I let go ofwhat I am, I become what I might be.

-Lao Tzu

My own coping mechanism was reading. It gave meaning to my

life. I wanted to find an answer in books to what had happened to
our project and to me personally, and how I should live my life in
Kerchele. Material possession had never appealed to me except for
the insatiable urge to possess books. I was delighted by the sheer
sight of them. It was as if they would open up the mystery of
existence and of the whole universe to me. Perhaps that was
because of the environment in which I grew up.
Books were like gold or diamonds in our house. My mother
collected books, magazines and newspapers, discussed them with
her male friends and locked them up in a huge light blue wooden
box. She always kept the padlock key hidden. It was only when she
left it unlocked or forgot the key hanging on the padlock that my
little sister Negede and I got the chance to rummage through the
box and glimpse its contents. My sister was fascinated by the
medals our older sister Almaz had won for every kind of sport
imaginable. She caressed them, examined them and put them one by
one around her neck. I assuaged my curiosity peering into old and
new Amharic books, old newspapers and magazines.
Before I started reading in English, I borrowed Amharic
books from my mother and returned them as soon as I finished
reading them. Then they would disappear into the wooden box
where they would not see the light of day.
My reading career started with Tsehay Mesfin, which my
mother gave me when I was eight years old. My mother was an avid
reader of Amharic books and well-versed in Ethiopian history and
Amharic literature. She was schooled in traditional education at
home and had done the Psalms.
418 Tower in the sky

Traditional education in Ethiopia was mainly religious and

entrenched in churches and monasteries. For the most part, sons of
rich peasants ran away from home to escape the life of a peasant
and pursued the long journey to becoming members of the
traditional elite. Education included writing, reading, numerals,
translation, poetry, church music, liturgy, astrology and
commentary. The traditional elite were also chroniclers of the
history of the church and of kings and of their dynasties. The
students, commonly called yekolo temari (for subsisting mainly on
roasted grain) traveled on foot from monastery to monastery in
search of renowned Memhirs (traditionally educated religious
scholars), under whose apprenticeship they started the long journey
to becoming one themselves. This long journey usually took from
15 to 20 years. Aleka Gebrebrehana was the most legendary
traditional intellectual and was known for his brilliance, elegant
poetry, witticisms and a daring critique of Emperors and the
nobility.

When my mother gave me Tsehay Mesfin, I read it and wept for

Tsehay, the leading female character, who suffered and died of
tuberculosis.
Little did I know that I would weep for myself years later.
In grade seven, I started reading English books borrowing
three or four at a time from the library at Ras Mekonen School in
Harar. The books were children's books. I would finish them all and
return them on Monday. The librarian, seeing my thirst for reading,
started selecting books appropriate for my age.
Before I finished grade nine, I had already read most of the
Longman abridged editions such as A Tale of Two Cities, Oliver
Twist, Jane Eyre, Portrait of a Lady, and other abridged editions
such as The Thirty Nine Steps and The Prisoner of Zenda. In grade
 Tower in the sky 419

ten, I outgrew the abridged editions. I read The Three Musketeers,

Montezuma's Daughter, The Count of Monte Cristo, She, The
Woman in White and The Scarlet Letter. Before I finished grade
eleven, I had already read Les Miserables, Gone with the Wind,
Exodus, Madame Bovary, Germinal, Wuthering Heights, Sense and
Sensibility, Lady Chatterley's Lover, The Comedians and most of
Harold Robbins.

Most of the books that were available in Kerchele were thrillers by

authors such as Irving Wallace, Robert Ludlum, Ken Follet,
Frederick Forsyth, Jeffrey Archer, Arthur Hailey, and Sidney
Sheldon. I rabid.ly consumed them all, but got tired of them. I read
only a few non-fictions such as Roots and Adler's On Human Nature.
I then came across The True Believer, Darkness at Noon,
The Gulag Archipelago, The First Circle and Cancer Ward.
Alexander Solzhenitsyn was widely read in the compound,
particularly The Gulag and The First Circle. We wrapped the books
with newspaper to protect them from the gaze of the authorities.
The books resonated with our experience. I found myself and my
fellow comrades in all of those books.
I read Darkness at Noon twice and it stirred something in me
that had been bothering me since Getachew's death: the idea of the
end justifies the means. I was astounded by the similarity of our
experiences. How is it possible that people who grew up in different
cultures and lived in different times thought and behaved the same
way? My conclusion pointed to the ideology they espoused and to
their nature.
The True Believer gave me access to the group mind that
had puzzled me for over three years. I was once a true believer and
was shocked to find my former comrades and myself in Eric
Hoffer's book.
420 Tower in the sky

However, Hoffer simplifies our motives for self-sacrifice. It

is not always negative experiences such as alienation or external
factors like ideology that propel us humans to self-sacrifice.
Largely, it is compassion, the "sole non-egoistic motive," innate in
us that thrusts us to self-sacrifice.

The way I looked at my past and the world in general took another
sharp tum on my first visit to the prison library. Even if I read, I had
never set foot in the library for the very reason I avoided many of
the activities in the prison compound, staying away from my former
comrades. I had stopped teaching or even taking courses, just to
avoid being with most EPRP members.
That day at the library, I dawdled around the shelves and
found out that many of the books were Marxist-Leninist. The very
sight of them turned a knot in my stomach. I quickly moved away to
the Art section. A large book caught my attention: A History ofArt
and Music was the title. I casually found myself a seat and opened
it; little knowing that it would change the direction of my thinking
forever,
I read short biographies of Vincent Van Gogh, Mozart and
Beethoven. Van, Gogh's and Beethoven's personal lives and
tragedies moved me. I had to wipe my tears several times, reading
about those two giants. When it was time for us to leave from the
library, I told Dawit Sibhatu, the librarian, that I would like to sign
out the book. "You can't sign out a book before the end of the day,
but I will bring it for you later this afternoon," he told me, jotting
down the title.
I stayed up till three in the morning that night reading the
book. Dawit came in the morning to collect all the checked out
books. I asked him to bring mine back in the evening. I did that
every day until I finished reading it. I took notes upon notes, I
learned about the different forms of art and music.
 Tower in the sky 421

What am I to do with all that I've learned? I needed an

outlet. I bought an exercise book and started writing to my niece,
who was at the time nine or ten. She was a gifted piano player and I
had seen her play pieces from Mozart. It was from her that I had
learned the name Mozart for the first time. She started piano lessons
when she was five or seven. I became obsessed with taking notes of
the biographies and works of artists and composers, and smuggled
them out to my niece. Every week, I bought a new exercise book,
filled it with all the things that I had learned, tucked it in a food
container and sent it away on Sunday.
To crown it all, I came across Lust for life, a biographical
novel about Van Gogh by Irving Stone. Then other books surfaced
in the compound by the same author: Depths of Glory, about
Camille Pissarro and The Agony and Ecstasy, about Michelangelo. I
also read OfHuman Bondage by Somerset Maugham.
I felt my head reeling.
I discovered an exciting world. I found myself attracted to
the bohemian lifestyle of the artists and writers. I wondered if I
would ever go out of prison and lead the "authentic" existence I
imagined it to be. Their detachment from material possession and
the life of poverty attracted me.
Then there came to Kerchele my future friends, Sabela and
her younger sister Ariam. The two were incarcerated along with
their brother for refusing to condemn "counter revolutionaries" at
Youth Association meetings because of their religious beliefs.
Ariam was only fourteen when she was taken into custody.
Sabela was an accomplished sculptor, painter and musician.
She was a genius. She was the bohemian artist that I had read in
books about. She made sketches of everything in Kerchele, dazzling
us with her talent. She played the guitar and kirar (a five or six-
422 Tower in the sky

string lyre). She tried to teach me how to play the latter and how to
draw. It was a futile effort.
I was cut out for neither.

Marxism-Leninism had taught me that change was possible as

groups and in an organized way, and I had tussled with the idea
since Kefitegna days. I knew I could never shy away from doing
what changes peoples' lives for the better after having gone through
the EPRP experience. But what I asked myself all along was how I
could do it without compromising my individuality and moral
integrity.
After reading A History ofArt and Music, I concluded that it
was individuals who changed the world for the better through their
genius and inspiration. It may not have been an earth-shaking
discovery, but it was, to me at the time, something that helped me
see the world in a new light. Now that I came to realize that it was
individuals who changed society, I was able to shake off the belief
that had kept teasing my heart: that change comes only through
collective and organized effort.
I was acutely aware of the strong aversion that I had
developed toward politics. At times, I wondered if that was the right
thing to do. I was happy leading my life the way I wanted, but there
were constant questions in my head whether my focus in my own
personal development was completely acceptable--not to others, but
to myself.
Even though hooks gave color to what otherwise might have
been a monotonous existence, it was also the acute awareness of
why I was there that made prison life bearable. I did not brood over
my long sentence, not because I believed poetic justice had been
served but because I was bound by the vow that I had made when I
 Tower in the sky 423

subscribed to the struggle. I knew very well the price I had to pay
for getting myself into something like that.
Life in Kerchele taught me that what people were actually
going through was much more important than striving to build a
rosy future, which they may never live to see, if it happened at all.
Guarding my own freedom and integrity is much more important
and has primacy compared to trying to build a utopia, I concluded.
At the Kefitegna, I had learned to be suspicious of human
nature and of even life itself. It was not based on any philosophical
reflection but from something that had sprang out of my being.
I learned in Kerchele that I could still believe in the beauty
of life and the fundamental goodness of people. Kefitegna and
Kerchele had taught me that there were people who made me forget
the painful existence I was living, people who showed me the sunny
side of life and the good side to human nature and made me put all
that painful experience into perspective.
I had long ceased to believe that the struggle was my true
essence, in short who I really was. I had to deal with the sense of
hollowness and nothingness after I renounced the Party. I still
believed that what we set out to do was genuine, but it had gone
wrong and had serious consequences. It was only then it had
occurred to me that Getachew had believed that peoples' lives were
much more important than implementing an idea.
That was the legacy he had left me with.
I learned to stand away from the Party and see it critically
without nostalgia or regrets. Standing away from it was also a way
of standing away from myself, which helped me realize what is
most important to me and become focused on it. Once I learned the
uncertainty and unpredictability of life, I became humbled in the
face of the power that governed my life .
424 Tower in the sky

Without even being conscious of it, I adopted a

dispassionate attitude toward life. Deep inside, I felt I would always
be that "homeless hitch-hiker" who spun around the edges of
existence, looking for that something...which I "cannot lose." I
knew in my heart of my hearts the kind of life most people led
(even in the context of Kerchele) was not really for me. Neither had
I sought their company all the time. I loved my solitude and locked
myself in the clinic dispensary for hours and read books, or sat in
silence away from the hubbub of Kerchele life. Sitting in that small
room, I felt I was in my element - my 'mandala'- where I could
connect with my inner self. I struggled to find the perfect axis where
I could balance personal freedom and responsibility and the
situation around me.

A women's Hibret Souk (branch prisoners' shop) was opened in the

women's quarter and I started working there after my Mekrus
member, Sophia, quit. I applied for the position and got the job after
sitting in an interview. I quit my volunteer job at the clinic after
three years of service. I managed the shop and the tearoom and was
paid 54 birr per month, which was a substantial amount in the
prison context. A real tearoom was built where people were able to
sit and have tea chatting with fellow prisoners.
The shop was another retreat for me. I locked myself inside
on weekends just before roll call and read, did school assigmnents
and regained my sense of being. The downside of it was I had to go
back to Adarash. It was by then less crowded, and the most
vehement and fanner Kefitegna girls have been released long ago.
Every now and then I suffered from bouts of moodiness like
everybody else. I often kept to myself when that happened. Betty
Kassa was the only one who knew how to lift me out of that state.
Betty was a former EPRP member. She was ebullient, loud and
 Tower in the sky 425

hilarious. I usually locked myself in the -shop and sat in the dark.
She would come and knock on the door.
"What do you want?" I would snap.
"Please open the door for me!"
"No! Go away! I want to be by myself."
"Please, Hiwotiye let me in." She would never give up.
Annoyed, I would fling the door open.
"So what do you want to do? Talk? Laugh? Cry? I am ready
to do all," she would say, laughing.
We would sit there in the dark and talk and laugh until roll
call. By the time we came out, I was in a good mood again.
Mimi, Tadelech's daughter, also gave meaning to my life. I
played with her, fed her, washed her clothes, braided her hair and
cooked for her. I often slung her on my back with a gabi and took a
walk. Those were my soothing moments, my lullabies. She was my
pet and my friend. She used to say I was her best friend.

Whatever pain I experienced at the Kefitegna receded to the edges

of my existence. I chose to focus on the new and fascinating life
Kerchele had offered me.
The memory of the Party lives with me despite my vow to
stay away from the crowd mentality it had inspired. There is no
awe, no sense of sacredness, no adoration, no throbbing of the soul,
no illusion nor nostalgia; but there will always be respect and
admiration in my heart for what it stood for, for making us dare to
believe, for letting us dream, for bringing out the best in us, and for
giving us perspective about life. I am grateful for all the good things
I learned in the Party. It helped me tone up with discipline,
commitment, hard work, composure in the face of hardship, and
detaclnnent from material possessions.
426 Tower in the sky

Every so often I questioned myself if I could really blame

what I had suffered 'at the Kefitegna on crowd mentality or if each
of us has personal responsibility. What put me off guard at the time
was the same thing that shook me out of my depth when Getachew
was killed. I had never thought that comrades would hurt one
another and breach the trust they bestowed upon one another. I was
too raw to understand the complexity of human nature and the
workings of ideology and politics. I came to realize that our
comradeship was based on our dedication to the same goals, and
that brought our relationship to extraordinary and almost sacrosanct
and ethereal levels. I came to believe that was the reason I saw my
comrades as more than mortal beings. That knowledge, the sense of
my own fallibility and human frailty, and the longing to remain
human helped me heal, let go and set me free.
 Tower in the sky 427

I'm coming home, I'm coming home

Tell the world I'm coming home.
.p Diddy

Kerchele had become depopulated, as many prisoners were set free.

Emebet was released in July 1982, after completing her four-year
term, As difficult as it was for us, we were happy for her. Chuchu
was released in mid-1983, after five years in prison, three years in
Kerchele and two elsewhere. Life in the ward had become boring
after she left. It had been a huge blow for me. We had become like
sisters, sharing everything and having so much fun living together
in the ward. Sabela and Ariam were also released after four years.
It was another blow for me. As much as I loved to be by myself, I
loved my friends and enjoyed their company.

It was sometime in 1985. I was playing volleyball one afternoon

when I could lift my right ann no more. I immediately ran to the
ward and examined it. It was red and swollen. A little worried, I
took a shower, put my nightgown on and went to bed. I didn't say
anything to anybody. The next day, it was even worse. I stayed in
bed reading a book.
Tadelech came and asked me why I was in bed. I showed
her my ann. She urged me to see the health assistant right away. I
did and I was referred to the doctor who came once a week to
Kerchele, but had to wait a few days to see him. When he saw my
arm, he referred me to Black Lion Hospital (where he worked) right
away.
But I was told by the office I could only be sent to Menilik
II Hospital. I told my sister Almaz about what had happened when
she came on Sunday. The next day, I was called to the Major's
office. He asked why I had complained to the authorities. I wasn't
aware my sister had gone to the Meakelawi and had lodged a
428 Tower in the sky

complaint about me not being sent to Black Lion Hospital. When

the Major saw my inflamed and swollen ann, which hadn't changed
much since the day I played volleyball, he didn't hesitate to give me
the permission to go to Black Lion.
Through my brother-in-law, I managed to be seen by
Professor Asrat W oldeyes, one of the two renowned surgeons in the
country. I was admitted right away. One of the bones on my right
elbow had developed osteomyelitis (infection of the bone). The
Professor curetted the bone and I stayed for over two months at the
hospital. I could have stayed for as long as I wanted to, but I didn't
want to saddle my sisters with high hospital fees. Besides, my
family visited me every day and I worried it would be an additional
burden on them.
After nearly fifteen years, I eventually got respite. For the
first time, I felt I was rid of the curse that had been following me
around. I had put my pains and anxieties aside when I was
struggling under the banner of the EPRP. But in prison, the fear of
losing my ann someday had come back.

It was one of the most horrendous acts of the Derg. It was late
afternoon in September 1985. Zaid Belay and another woman's
names were called. They were detained, accused of being members
of the Eritrean Peoples' Liberation Front. We went to Adarash to
congratulate them thinking that they were going to be released.
About forty male prisoners have been called out too that afternoon.
They were ready to go home but all of a sudden, they were told that
they would be released the next morning. It was strange. It diluted
the euphoric mood. Then the sordid news surfaced that they were
actually going to be executed. A wave of terror swept through the
compound.
 Tower in the sky 429

The next morning Zaid and the male prisoners were

summoned to come out. Close to forty of them were executed after
being in prison for seven or eight years! Amongst the male
prisoners were Yohannes Ginnachew, Zewdu Belayneh and
Getachew Kumsa, who were EPRP members. Y ohannes used to
coach us volleyball and he was the only male allowed in the
compound for that purpose. Most of the executed were former EPRP
members and the rest were members of the Eritrean Liberation
Fronts, the Tigrian Liberation Front and even Jehovah Witnesses.
At the time, many Pentecostal and Jehovah Witnesses were thrown
in prison because of their beliefs.
We didn't know what to do with this sadistic measure of the
Derg. It was inconceivable how people, who have been jailed for
over eight years, could have been taken out and cold-bloodedly
killed. It was a reminder that the Derg was still bloodthirsty. For
those who had been awaiting freedom for many years, it seemed
like the end of the road.
It was as if we were back to square one.
430 Tower in the sky

Tadelech and her daught er. 1983 With Tadelech's daughter, /983

Black Lion Hospital, 1985

 Tower in the sky 431

"Guard! Guard! People are dying! People are dying!" we heard

male voices shouting in the middle of one night from the male ward,
located beside the female compound. All of us in Adarash sat up on
our beds and listened to the desperate calls with utter consternation.
The prisoners sounded desperate and their voices got louder.
Many of us cried. We knew something grave was happening in the
men's ward. The voices died down later and we went back to sleep
still wondering what had gone wrong. In the morning, we learned
that some men had died in the ward that night. They had died of
dysentery. The next night, we heard the male prisoners call the
wardens again. In the morning, we learned that there was a cholera
outbreak in the prison compound!
More people died and many more got sick. There was panic
and desperation. Every night we heard men screaming, "Guard!
Guard! Someone is dying!" The male ward became overcrowded
with more people getting sick. The school had to be turned into a
triage. In the women's compound, only one woman, who happened
to be pregnant, got the dysentery. She was immediately quarantined
and miraculously survived.
The Red Cross donated blankets and clothes of the dead and
the sick were burned. Tents were pitched before the school, where
patients were quarantined and treated. School was closed and
prisoners were not allowed to step out of their quarters. In order to
contain the outbreak, no food containers were allowed to go out of
the prison compound.
We (women prisoners) were given Tetracycline capsules
three times a day, as precaution. Most people stayed in bed to keep
away the cholera. They were scared of shaking hands with others or
even touching one another, and the best prevention was staying in
bed all day. I opened my shop at the usual time but had no
customers, as-most people stayed in bed.
432 Tower in the sky

Many took matters into their own hands and concocted

potions out of garlic, lime, ginger, hot green pepper and other hot
spices. They went to the clinic by the dozens complaining of
stomachache, nausea and vomiting.
At the Emechat Bet, there was even more terror because of
all the children. The moms burned incense to ward off flies. We
stopped kissing the kids.
We never learned how many people died in the men's
compound owing to the outbreak. The numbers ranged from fifty to
one hundred and fifty. Death hovered over us, once again becoming
an immediate existential threat. Fear and terror ruled the day. My
greatest fear, like many prisoners, was to die in prison. The cholera
threatened to make that fate reality. It had me thinking that it would
be a tragedy to die of dysentery in prison after surviving the Derg's
bullet and after being there for over eight years. I wondered if there
was any justice in that. Is this a mockery ofour existence?
I had recently heard about existentialism. A non-political
prisoner was said to have talked about it at a meeting held at the
school; others rebuffed him for his frivolity. Marxism was not yet
fully cast out of the heads of many political prisoners.
When the cholera outbreak occurred, I started contemplating
on the meaning and purpose of life. I was at the time reading one of
the most popular books in the prison compound: The story of
philosophy, by Will Durant. I was reading Arthur Schopenhauer, the
19th century German philosopher, and it was as if I was reading
from the pages of life in Kerchele.
How can we die ofcholera in prison? Where is the justice in
that? I asked myself repeatedly. Death had meaning eight years ago
when we were struggling under the leadership of the EPRP . We
knew why and what we were dying for; but to die of cholera in
prison seemed obscene. The previous three years have been brighter
434 Tower in the sky

"So what does it mean?"

"You know, a wooden raft is a relative. You will be released
through the help of a relative."
"Well, I hope it is true." We chatted for a few minutes and
he left.

It was Friday evening and word floated around that an amnesty was
given to one thousand prisoners and that the list had arrived in the
office. That night was a sleepless night for many.
Moged had never affected me. I never imagined I would
shake the remaining years of my sentence off my back and go
home. Therefore, I did not think I would be released, but I was
uneasy about remaining with only a few people for the rest of my term.
The next morning was Saturday, June 6, 1986. I was taking
a shower around eight thirty in the morning when Tadelech came in
the shower room. "They say people are going to be released today.
Do you think we will be released?" she asked excitedly.
. I didn't want to disappoint her. I wished her release more
than anybody else did. Her daughter was then seven years old and
would soon be forced to go home. No child above the age of eight
was allowed to stay in prison. There were also her two daughters.
At the same time, I did not want us to get excited and then feel bad
later. "I don't know. I am not expecting to be released today," I
responded, sounding a bit serious. She went out without saying a
word. I felt bad for being so cold and so serious.
Around ten o'clock, my lunch arrived as usual. Then the
most incredible thing happened. We heard a voice over a
megaphone calling the names of male prisoners. The list was
endless. Every time a name belonging to a person we knew was
called, we screamed. Everybody came out and congregated in the
courtyard. We froze with disbelief where we were standing. Then
 Tower in the sky 435

the gate was swung open and two male soldiers came in. One of
them started calling names. I was standing at the door of my shop.
People ran around when their names were called out. Others
rushed to congratulate them. All of a sudden, all that shock and
disbelief was turned into excitement, tears and nervous laughter. I
did not know what to think or expect. It would be very disastrous if
all those people were released and I was left standing there. I did
not know if I should cry for being left there alone or be happy for
the others.
Finally, I heard my name. It was unbelievable. People came
and kissed me on the cheeks and ran away to kiss somebody else. I
did not kiss them back. I stood there unable to even move. Once I
heard mine, I waited anxiously to hear Tadelech's name. Then I
heard her name! That was when I woke up from my reveries and
ran to where she was standing. I fell on her chest with an outburst of
excitement.
A few minutes later, disaster struck. Somebody came and
shocked us with the news that Tadelech's and another girl's names
were called by mistake! What? I could not believe what I heard. We
approached the gate to make sense of what we had just learned.
Sadly, they broke the news that she was called by mistake.
It was inconceivable. I just could not see myself going and
leaving them behind, especially Mimi, who was as much my
daughter as she was Tadelech's. I sobbed uncontrollably. All the
released prisoners left. I stayed behind leaning on Tadelech's lap
and crying. Two female wardens came over and pulled me away. I
could no longer walk and tumbled on the ground outside the gate. I
screamed wildly lying there. The wardens did not know what to do
with me. "You know they might change their mind if you are
behaving this way," they warned.
I didn't care.
436 Tower in the sky

It was after so much cajoling that the wardens were able to

lift me up and help me walk. They held my elbows on both sides
and begged me to stop crying and walk straight. I just could not. My
knees had given way. I felt desperate. When we approached the
office, where the Meakelawi people and all the 700 or so released
prisoners were crowded, the wardens got jittery that I might indeed
be sent back.
They wiped my tears and once again beseeched me to walk
on my own. I joined the prisoners and the two wardens stood on the
side. Among the released were my friends Tibletse Asmelash and
the librarian Dawit Sibhatu. It was raining and we stood there for
what seemed like an endless time. Then I saw Lieutenant Shimeles
charging through the crowd and coming up to me. It has been
almost seven years since he brought us to Kerchele from the
Meakelawi. "Congratulations! I am so glad you are out. You see
there is God, after all. What did I tell you? Don't cry now, you are
free," he said, smiling and shaking my hand.
I did not have the heart to appreciate my release. I could not
say anything to the good man. The words would not come out.
Tears started rolling down my cheeks again.
''No! Don't! It is not good for you," he cautioned, looking
around. He left after he gave me a few more words of
encouragement.
After what seemed an endless wait, we were taken to the
Meakelawi for "orientation" and then I was free after eight years
and four months!
When we came out, we faced a multitude of family members
in the compound pressing forward to find their loved ones. They
pushed and shoved to look for their sons, daughters, sisters,
brothers, husbands, wives, relatives, and neighbors. They laughed,
wept and ululated.
 Tower in the sky 437

Tibletse and I drifted through the crowd, hands clenched,

disoriented, overwhelmed and numbed. The two female wardens,
who had escorted me to the office, had asked me for my phone
number to call my sister Almaz and let her know about my release.
While Tibletse and I were walking, still dazed, I spotted one of my
aunts. She ululated when she saw me and fell on my shoulders, tears
ofjoy streaming down her cheeks. She held my hand and jostled her
way through the crowd, taking me to my mother, my sisters, my
brother in-laws, my aunts and my cousins. We all went to my sister
Almaz's house, including Tibletse. My mother refused to go and set
off instead to St. Mikael' s Church, to fulfill her pledge.

The society we had left behind, the idealism and concern for social
justice was no longer there. The EPRP experience was so near and
so fresh to us, but when I came out people talked about it as if it
were something that had happened in a distant era. They referred to
it as ''the EPRP era."
Tadelech was released in 1991 when Mengistu Hailemariam
was ousted. She got out after twelve years and five months!
However, that was not what mattered. What mattered was
that we had pulled through it all with courage, determination,
integrity, dignity and cheerfulness.
Prison was meant to crush our spirits and depersonalize us.
However, it turned out to be the place where I learned what it means
to be human. It was there that I discovered the value of freedom,
and realized that personal responsibility, individuality and moral
integrity are much more important in life than trying to build a
utopia,
However, it was what I leamed from Getachew Maru, the
hero of my life, that I always wanted to emulate: respect for human
life, tolerance and peaceful resolution of conflict.