While Bahru Zewde was a third-year student at Haile Selassie University (now Addis Ababa University) in 1968, he took part in a demonstration that left a deep impression on him. The demonstration did not center around a domestic issue, but instead, it focused on Pan-African concerns. It was in response to the execution of five black nationalist leaders of Rhodesia (now Zimbabwe) at the behest of Ian Smith, the prime minister of the predominantly white government in the country. On the eve of this demonstration, during the general assembly, Tilhan Gizaw, the future student leader who was killed by police two years later, laid out the itinerary for the demonstration. ‘First, we go to the OAU; then we march to the British Embassy; after that, nature will take its own course!’

As Tilahun outlined, on the following day, March 13th, “around three thousand students initially marched towards the Organisation of African Unity (OAU), where we presented our grievances to Diallo Telli, the OAU’s secretary. Then we crisscrossed the streets of Addis Ababa and eventually reached the British Embassy. When the ambassador came forward to address us, a student hurled a stone toward the compound. The police, equipped with riot control gear and vehicles mounted with water hoses, dispersed us. At that moment, for the first and last time, I resorted to acts of violence against government entities. I picked up a rock and threw it at the vehicle, which was unleashing torrents of water upon us. The projectile was so pointed that it pierced through the vehicle’s windshield, and I heard a loud clang echoing as it struck the glass. A surge of triumph washed over me”, chronicles the distinguished historian and author Professor Bahru Zewde who has recently published his memoir in Amharic, ‘Hibir Hiwote.‘

The Birth of the Memoir During a Pandemic

Bahru has used his time in the Covid lockdown to pen this intimate account, which sees modern Ethiopia through the lens of his own life and that of his friends and contemporaries. Despite contemplating writing his life story for years, it was the onset of the pandemic that finally prompted him to embark on this literary journey. Published by the Ethiopian publisher Eclipse, this 313-page book comprises interesting autobiographical essays that detail pivotal moments in the historian’s life that are so vast in their energies. A comprehensive portrait of the influences, academic life, and personal struggles and triumphs that shaped his life. The author’s adult life was anchored in Addis Ababa University where he was a lecturer at the history department for several decades and later achieved the esteemed title of professor emeritus. But his distinction was international: he held positions at the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign and Hamburg University. He was a visiting scholar at Boston University and a visiting fellow at St. Cross College and St. Anthony’s College, Oxford University.

In his earlier historical works, Bahru has written about his era and reminiscences of his classmates and contemporaries who were actively involved in the student movement for years. He now directly addresses his own story, inviting readers in a warm and engaging tone to follow him in a narrative through 76 years of life. In the preface, Bahru says he set out to tell the story of his life within a limited number of pages. Some of the earlier chapters stand as a keenly observed recollection, providing insight into the influences that have shaped him. He meticulously explores the narrative of his grandparents and parents, offering a remarkable level of detail, emphasizing the importance of not only recounting the stories of well-known figures but also recognizing the significance of ordinary individuals and their experiences.

From his upbringing in Geja sefer of Addis Ababa as the son of an Anbessa bus driver and a dedicated housewife mother who took on the role of nurturing their rapidly expanding family, eventually growing to twelve children, who both hail from the Kistane Guraghe ethnic group, to his student years at Prince Makonnen school and the Addis Ababa University (AAU), his scholarship at the School of Oriental and African Studies (SOAS), before becoming a history lecturer at AAU.

The History of Geja Sefer

From Bahru’s narrative, we gather that Geja Sefer is a locality that has been inhabited by successive generations of the Kistane Guraghe ethnic group, including his own. Early Kistane settlers, who contributed to the construction of the Menelik Palace buildings, established their residence on a hill known as Geja, which later came to be known as Géja Sefer. This area was allocated to them specifically for storing spades, it was said.  The first edir, or self-help group, in the city, was formed in this area, serving as an early model of voluntary organizations dedicated to assisting with funeral ceremonies. The individual responsible for announcing a death by going around the area would do so in the Kistane language. (which is also known as Soddo and Aymallal.’ One of Bahru’s earliest scholarly contributions was an essay titled “The Aymallal Gurage in the Nineteenth Century: A Political History“, which came out in a scholarly journal in 1972 based on the oral information he gathered from family members.) Today, Geja is a polyglot of ethnicities, all living side by side and people from different walks of life.

In his childhood recollections, Bahru evokes his schooling journey, starting at a local church and transitioning to Tesfa Kokeb School, which was established for orphans who had lost their parents during the Italian occupation, where he studied for six years. Subsequently, he was transferred to Prince Makonnen School, where he continued his education for an additional three years. During those years, he discovered English literature such as the works of Charles Dickens at the Ethiopian National Archives and Library Agency (Wemezekir), which had a profound effect on his imagination. An interesting anecdote about Bahru depicts him as a diligent young student deeply committed to his studies and motivated by a competitive spirit. Once, forced to miss school, he feared falling behind a friend in studies. Determined to catch up, he was studying under a kerosene lamp at night. In an unfortunate incident, engrossed in his studies, his partially shaved hair lock of hair caught fire unnoticed until his mother, alarmed by the burning smell and flames on his hair, rushed to his aid.

Homage to Peace Corps Teachers

Bahru’s account of how he became a historian, citing the influence of his Peace Corps history teacher is interesting. Before entering his 11th year of education, Bahru held a strong interest in mathematics. But his Peace Corps history teacher at Prince Makonnen School, Clifford Binder, ignited his passion for history, by breathing life into the subjects of the French Revolution and Napoleon for him, later inspiring him with the notion that the study of history could be a path worth pursuing. Bahru also acknowledges his English teacher, Thomas A. Grange, whom he credits with playing a crucial role in improving his English writing skills by providing rigorous corrections and guidance.

Student Politics

When Bahru joined Addis Ababa University in 1966, it marked a period of great political awakening. During high school at Prince Makonnen, he and his classmates had shown little interest in the country’s affairs. However, upon entering university, their focus shifted towards involvement in broader causes that extended beyond their individual and family’s private lives.

Bahru details how the student movement took a revolutionary turn with the ‘Land to the Tiller’ demonstration staged by university students on February 25th, 1965, a year when he was in twelfth grade at Prince Makonnen school. Among the first student organizations was the Main Campus Union had been formed with Eshetu Chole as president, he explains. That union was later succeeded by the University Students Union of Addis Ababa, USUAA in November 1966, emerging as a unified Marxist opposition group against the imperial government.

“The ‘Land to the Tiller’ demonstration served as a catalyst for future student protests and demonstrations. Following this event, there was not a single year at the university without some form of demonstration or confrontation with the government,” Bahru writes.

“Our first demonstration occurred in May 1965. Our slogan was “Is Poverty a Crime?” and the objective was to shed light on the plight of people fleeing the famine in the countryside who were detained in a shelter built by the government in Shola Lamberet. This facility was referred to with usual student hyperbole as the “Shola Concentration Camp.” Students secretly entered the camp and took photographs. The photos taken by students were blazoned on what used to be the main entrance to the building that now houses the ILS. Deeply stirred by the sight, the students took to the streets with gusto.”

The account notably highlighted that during that period, both students and the police were unfamiliar with the concept of sit-down strikes. “We were in the beginning perplexed by Abdulmejid’s (He was the Vice President of NUEUS at the time) call “to sit down”: How could we sit calmly while surrounded by a horde of policemen? We later understood this to mean a “sit-down strike”. The police too were confused and helpless. After a while, we were told to proceed.”

Ph.D Studies

In 1972, at the age of twenty-six, he arrived in London to pursue his PhD at the School of Oriental and African Studies (SOAS), the University of London, sponsored by the British Council Scholarship, During those years, revolution was in the offing in Ethiopia. He began writing his thesis on ‘Relations between Ethiopia and the Sudan on the Western Frontier’ under the supervision of Peter Malcolm Holt, the author of the seminal work “Mahdist State in the Sudan (1880s–1890s)“. Diligently engaging in library and archive research, including the Public Record Office (now part of The National Archives), he laid the groundwork for his thesis. “I found myself inundated with documents, and the sheer volume of available information overwhelmed me with happiness,” he writes. “Dispatches sent at various times from British ministers, councils in Ethiopia, and administrators at different levels in Sudan were plentiful, complicating the task of selection for me. On the other hand, some of the reports, particularly those written by the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and characterized by condescending and racist tones, left me repulsed.”

During a five-month research expedition in Sudan and Ethiopia, he conducted thorough searches to locate documents, conducted interviews to develop his thesis. In Ethiopia, the political winds of change were blowing, and by sheer coincidence, he arrived in Addis Ababa in March 1974, the same day of the first general strike in the country’s history, paralyzing the capital—a pivotal moment that unfolded on the countdown to the demise of the imperial regime. He also witnessed a large demonstration staged by Muslims advocating for religious equality, which took place on 20 April.  

Back in London, Bahru would engage in discussions and debates with friends and compatriots of various political persuasions regarding the political changes they were advocating. Important factional differences within the Ethiopian Student Union of Europe concerning issues such as the future of Eritrea were coming to light and the turbulent environment led to a growing rift between the two prominent groups that were to organize Meison (All Ethiopia Socialist Movement) and EPRP (Ethiopian People’s Revolutionary Party).

On September 12, 1974, news of Emperor Haile Selassie’s deposition arrived. “I was working part-time at the SOAS library, things were heating up back in my country. My radio was on, keeping me updated on the unfolding events. When the news of the dethronement of the king was announced, it left me with mixed emotions. While I felt satisfaction with the removal of the emperor, the announced decree hinted at potential future danger.”

Hard Choices

After completing his Ph.D. in African history from the SOAS in 1976, Bahru found himself at a pivotal crossroads. The Ethiopian revolution loomed on the horizon, with the two groups, the MEISON and the EPRP engaging in fierce conflict at home. The political climate became increasingly repressive. Faced with a challenging decision, Bahru grappled with the choice of returning home, knowing that it held the power to significantly shape his future trajectory. Edward Ullendorff, a Semitic scholar at the Soas in London extended an offer for him to stay and teach Amharic at the Africa department of SOAS, an offer he ultimately declined. Alongside many of his friends, he made a pledge to return home and contribute in some way to the country. Some warned him against returning, cautioning that EPRP leaders had begun to go into hiding. Bahru was undeterred from the idea of returning because he didn’t see himself as a prominent figure within the party. “I reached out to a few friends to gather their perspectives, and two individuals, Gebru Tareke from the US and Nega Ayele from Ethiopia, strongly encouraged my return,” he wrote.

Detained On Return From Post-Graduate Studies Abroad

During the difficult transition, Bahru came back to Ethiopia in September 1976 to take up a lectureship in the Addis Ababa University history department. Shockingly, just three weeks after his return, he was arrested. It was a highly tense period. An assassination attempt was made on Mengistu Haile Mariam, the Chairman of the Derg on that month. Following this, on October 2, Fikre Merid, a prominent figure in MEISON and a government cadre, was killed. In response, the Derg issued a chilling decree: for every revolutionary killed, a thousand counter-revolutionaries would face execution. A sense of foreboding filled the air. “When I went to talk to him at his place, Nega Ayele, despite his previous encouragement of my return, told me that he himself was not staying the night at his place to avoid being captured,” Bahru wrote describing the gloomy mood.

“It was in this situation the Derg squad knocked on the door of my office around 3:30 pm, catching me at my desk in the history department where I had not yet achieved anything significant. When I allowed them in, a man wearing a cape pushed his head in, inquiring if I was Dr. Bahru. He was cross-eyed, he had a repulsive appearance that left me unsettled. Another person stood behind him. After confirming my identity, he informed me that I was wanted at the Derg’s office for five minutes, a line I later discovered was commonly used.” They embarked on the journey to Arat Kilo in a speeding Volkswagen.

Bahru wrote that the circumstances surrounding his arrest immediately upon his return from abroad puzzled many. “When the event was reported, it was even presented as if I had been captured at the airport. There have been various theories circulating about the reason for my arrest. One theory suggested that I was a victim of mistaken identity, with authorities believing I was the author of ‘Ethiopia: From Autocracy to Revolution,‘ a critical book penned under the name Addis Hiwot. But actually, Addis Hiwot was the pseudonym of another student activist Abraham Gebre Egziabher.  Another theory suggested that when prominent EPRP leaders, known to the government, went into hiding, I was seen as one of the new leaders stepping in to fill their roles. That assumption was far-fetched as I wasn’t even recruited as an official member of the EPRP, let alone considered to be in line to replace any of their leaders. However, it appears to me that the actual reason behind my arrest was my anti-Derg stance, which I openly took while abroad. This stance was known by Meison members, and I believe I became a victim of their denunciation.” Here one should pose a question. Does the author’s inclination to attribute blame primarily to Meison individuals for the arrests overlook the possibility that EPRP members, too, might have divulged information under torture?

While Bahru was in prison in November 1977, Meison and its associated mass organization went underground. The same ruthless brutality once aimed at the EPRP was now consuming Meison. He wrties :

“I’ll never forget the day when captured Meison members were brought to the prison. Initially, there were 12 of them upon their arrival. The prison staff approached us, urging us to witness the individuals responsible for our arrests. As I entered, I recognized Haile Fida and Yeraswork Abebe, both visibly distressed. It was ironic that we, unable to resolve our minor disagreements, encountered each other in the prison under the Derg’s regime.”

The chapter on his experiences during his imprisonment is detailed, highlighting how the initially relaxed prison conditions deteriorated due to overcrowding and stricter policies over time. Additionally, it illustrates the strain his imprisonment placed on his parents, who were required to bring him meals every day.

Brief Tenure as the Director of the Institute of Ethiopian Studies

Bahru’s eleventh chapter delves into his tenure as the Director of the most prominent archive of Ethiopia, the Institute of Ethiopian Studies at Addis Ababa University, spanning from 1993 to 1996. He discusses his dismissal from the position as a result of his leadership at the Adwa Centenary Conference, an event that aroused suspicion from the government.

Setting the backdrop for the historical events leading up to the event, Bahru explains since the Ethiopian People’s Revolutionary Democratic Front (EPRDF), dominated by the TPLF, assumed power in May 1991, tension had been steadily mounting between the new rulers and the intellectual community. One significant event that highlighted this tension involved the violent repression of an Addis Ababa University student demonstration on January 4, 1993. The protest aimed to oppose the U.N.’s involvement in the Eritrean referendum and occurred during Boutros Ghali’s visit to Addis Ababa. A few weeks before this demonstration, Meles Zenawi, then head of the transnational government of Ethiopia, wrote a letter to the UN, requesting recognition of Eritrea as an independent country. In response, the opposition contended that the unelected government lacked the mandate to determine the sovereignty and territorial integrity of the country. The demonstration started peacefully at the university compound. However, when the students left the campus to protest publicly, security forces stationed at the gate fired upon the students, resulting in the death of one student and causing injuries to several others. The university president and deputy, who were purportedly supportive of the students, were subsequently dismissed from their positions. Following the incident, the university was closed for a span of two months. As preparations were underway for its reopening, on April 9, 1993, a significant event occurred: 43 university professors, many of whom were senior staff and highly respected scholars, were dismissed. Among those dismissed was Dr. Tadesse Beyene, who held the position of director of the Institute of Ethiopian Studies at Addis Ababa University.

“At first, I felt uneasy about stepping into the position left vacant by a colleague under such circumstances. Yet, after discussions with friends, I came to the conclusion that accepting the role was crucial to preserve the institution’s stability and prevent the possibility of less capable leadership, which would affect an institution that we hold dear.”

Among the tasks accomplished by the Institute of Ethiopian Studies was the preparation of the Adwa centenary celebration, commemorating Ethiopia’s decisive victory over Italy, which had attempted to colonize the country. However, controversy arose regarding both the choice of the centenary celebration location and the interpretation of its significance. The hero of the battle, Emperor Menelik, was being castigated by the regime, which espoused ethnic politics rather than Ethiopian nationalism, for invading the peoples in southern, eastern, and western Ethiopia and imposing upon them a brutal national oppression. Hence, any event that commemorates Emperor Menelik’s achievements in a positive light was not welcomed. Moreover, the regime disapproved of the event as it was led by individuals whom they believed would not promote or support their agenda. Instead of supporting the initiative, the regime appointed a parallel National Committee for the Preparation of the Centenary of the Victory of Adwa. Another committee was established under the Tigray Development Association, to emphasize the narrative that the Italian Army was defeated only by the Tigrayans. Excluded from any government subsidy, the committee led by Bahru had to turn to income-generating activities by seeking assistance from private individuals. Even individuals who had understood the government’s stance were reluctant to provide any contribution. In his opening address to the Centenary Conference held in Addis Ababa on February 26, 1996, Bahru felt compelled to express his sentiments. He mentioned that the commemoration of the Adwa victory had been met with considerable ambivalence and confusion in some circles. “It remains a curious historical irony that the commemoration of such an event as Adwa, which was notable above all for its demonstration of supreme national consensus and single-mindedness, could be attended by doubt and uncertainty,” he said. From what the book reveals, Bahru lost his directorial position at the Institute of Ethiopian Studies due to his involvement in the celebration, even though he was permitted to continue teaching at the university’s history department.

Bahru Zewde’s book adopts an honest and straightforward tone, lending the work a refreshing casualness. The writing maintains dignity, devoid of rhetoric or exaggerated emotion. The memoir excels in immersing readers in the fervent atmosphere of the revolution’s early days and its aftermath, narrating a personal odyssey and endurance. It stands as one of the most astute and eloquent chroniclers of contemporary Ethiopia.

Main Image: SOFIES Society of Friends of the IES launch of Bahru Zewde’s autobiography ኅብር ሕይወቴ on July 6, 2023. Courtesy of Alula Pankhurst.