Last Saturday marked three years since war broke out between the Ethiopian Government and forces from the Tigray Liberation Front or the TPLF. The TPLF is a left-wing, ethno-nationalist, paramilitary group which ruled Ethiopia from the early 90s until 2018.
The war has seen as many as 600,000 people dead, displaced millions and sparked one of the world’s most dire humanitarian crises. Amnesty International has investigated and reported instances of targeted attacks and massacres of civilians which could amount to crimes against humanity perpetrated by forces on both sides.
Most of the fighting took place in the northern Tigray region of the country and civilians there faced the brunt of the violence. As communities return to this devastated region and try to put the pieces of their lives back together, the process of grieving continues for members of the Tigrayan diaspora.
Salem Tewelde: We had this three-day mourning period a couple of weeks ago where the government released names of all of the martyrs in the Tigray genocide. And everyone found out about someone in their family who had been killed as a part of the Tigray genocide.
This is the voice of Tigrayan American, Salem Tewelde. She and I went to college together and have been speaking about the impact the war has had on her life since the summer.
Tewelde: And I called my mom, and I was like, hey, what did you guys learn? And she said that five of my dad’s nephews had been killed. So just like reconciling how much loss there was in my family and, you know, a total of seven people killed in our family. And there are some people in our Denver community who heard that weekend that their entire family had been killed in Tigray.
This summer I also spoke with Tewelde’s cousin, Jerusaliem Gebreziabher. They both described the slow and unpredictable trickle of information that broke through the communication blockade that was in place during much of the war.
Jerusaliem Gebreziabher: And when I go back, it will have to be with my mom to bury her mother. I got a phone call in February of 2021 from someone who ran across the border to tell me to tell my mom that her mom died, and they didn’t have very much else to say.
Gebreziabher said it will be a long time before she’s processed her grandmother’s death.
Gebreziabher: I really was looking forward to the day where I could be a support for her and learn from her, learn more about farming and gardening. I think that I’m still processing that loss even though it’s been like two years-ish. And I think I’ll make more sense of it when I’m back in her town and like, burying her for real.
Going forward, Tewelde says she’s finding inspiration in the strength of her family in Tigray who have turned to rebuilding. In a video that circulated among her diaspora community this month, Tewelde’s aunt spoke with local leaders about the persisting needs of everyday Tigrayans and her worry that national politics were moving on to ports and trading routes too quickly.
Tewelde: She was like, What? Why should we be concerned about the Red Sea and having access to a port? She was like, our concern is Western Tigray, is the displacement of Western Tigrayans and the occupation and the protracted violence that’s still ongoing there.
For herself, Tewelde says, she’s processing her own grief through solidarity.
Tewelde: The urgency of the moment, of course, is really activating people. And my hope is just that we really think about, like how far we are willing to extend our solidarities. And why, if ever, do we think our solidarities have an end? Have a boundary?
For Annenberg Media, I’m Jules Feeney.
***This story has been updated to clarify that most of the violence affected Tigray and civilians there. It also now reflects the correct spelling of Jerusaliem Gebreziabher.***