The Journey to Death: 72 Hours in Sahara Desert and 41 Hours on Red Sea

By Daniel Gezahegn Wendemu

The book explains briefly the way what it took for the writer to get to the Arabian Gulf waters of Yemen, starting from the long-distance heart of Ethiopia. After that, he talks of his childhood villages on the way to Jijiga, the eastern city of Ethiopia, and then to the port city of Bosaso. But he passed a lot of difficulties on his journey.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Stratton Press
• Release date: Feb 10, 2020
• ISBN: 9781643459158

Daniel Gezahegn Wendemu

Daniel Gezahegn is Ethiopian Exiled Journalist currently living in United States Of America. He born grow and follow his Accademic and journalistic study in Ethiopia. He was the editor in chief of Moged, an Amharic language newspaper in Addis Ababa. After his first News Paper Gemena banned by government. He was one of the many opposition journalists arrested by the Ethiopian regime years ago. He was arrested over six times during he was Ethiopian Free Press Journalist and one of press Activist. As he was accused of writing false and slanderous stories about the defection of the members in the Ethiopian Air Force and of defying the ruling system. He also dared to speak out on other contentious issues involving: The Ethiopian Orthodox Church Remaining silent police brutuality during the political event of on the year, the Ministry of Defence, and influential personalities such as General Bacha Debela the Ethiopian government high official of The Deffence Force).

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Acknowledgments

In my belief, the dedication of a book shouldn’t be limited to only persons past or present in the writer’s life. Since the writer has complete right over the book, he can dedicate it to whomever he decides.

Even though many people have connections with my entire life, I wish to dedicate this book to the few who were vital.

The person who taught me to be respectful to others and to make knowing and learning my purpose in life, the person I lost just when I could be of some help, the one whose funeral I couldn’t attend because I was in prison—my dear mother, Tsige Goshu (Tsigemariam).

My father, Major Gezahegn Wendemu, who was a veteran of the Ethio-Somalia war. Later he was taken prisoner of war with seventy of his colleagues in the battle of Fiq and imprisoned in Lantebur for eleven years. During his prison time, he was demanding for the rights of prisoners and secretly communicating with the International Red Cross Society in Geneva, which caused him to face horrendous prison life.

When he returned from prison, the administration at that time did not keep its promises to compensate the veterans returning from being POWs. Even though my father was reinstated to his previous job, most of the veterans were left without anybody to help them. So he and some of his friends had set up an organization in Dire Dawa that could help generate income for the veterans. Later he was unfairly retired from the army. He was unfairly removed from his job by the current racist Ethiopia government administrators.

My daughter, baby Leulwa Daniel (Anderi), whom I had to separate from and I still can’t meet until now, no matter how hard I try.

The hardworking journalist Mekonnen Worku, who had said to me, Where can I go now because the bail amount I require has reached ninety thousand birr, and Judge Leul Gebremariam is going to send me straight to jail. Then a few days later, he murdered himself, leaving the free press journalists in deep sorrow.

My journalist friend Teodros Kebede, who had worked on Zog and The Sun newspapers and who killed himself around the same time without telling anyone what was troubling him.

Editor in chief of Mebrek newspaper, journalist Worku Alemayehu, who was jailed unfairly due to the Ethiopian People’s Revolutionary Democratic Front’s (EPRDF) evil deed. During that time he was jailed together with tuberculosis patients, and so he contracted the disease. He was also harassed due to his profession as a journalist.

Journalists Gizachew, Abbay, Getamesay Gebremesqel (Kushu), Wondimeneh Nigussie, Tsega Kumelachew, Tsegaye Ayalew, Yoftahe Tsegaye (Papa), Kassahun Geleta, Jemil Yassin (Tadele), Leykun Engida, Semir and Tesfaye Tadesse, who had been jailed in various prisons, stabbed while being transferred from prison to court, and shot while at work and died.

Journalists Mulugeta Lule Sileshi Tegegn, Tefera Asmare, and Metsihafe Sirak, the free press journalists who had immigrated and passed away in exile due to the pressure and harrasement imposed upon them by the government.

All the refugees who had fled their country due to various pressures. Ato Assefa Maru, who was killed by the EPRDF fearlessly.

The unforgettable Professor Asrat Woldeyes, who in his medical career has been helping helpless sex workers and performed patriotic activities in politics and died due to EPRDF’s evil deed.

The twenty-nine-year-old Yenesew Gebre, who burnt himself to death protesting the violation of human rights in Dawro area, Tercha.

Gash Legge, Mr. Legesse, the sixty-four-year-old senior citizen who I met in central investigation prison suspected of being member of OLF. His whereabouts is unknown.

All those killed in Ethiopia due to the 2005 election in June 2005 and October, especially kid Nebiy Alemayehu and Teenager Shibirre Desalegn. My friends in refuge who are still suffering in Yemen. All political prisoners and journalists who hunger for justice in Ethiopia, I dedicate this book.

I have mentioned names of several persons I have come across. I haven’t tried to change the names of all these people. I have tried all I could to keep the facts as they are. Moreover, I have tried not to include indecent items.

I have presented names and their deeds of those who had done improper activities in history without adding or reducing anything. I want readers to understand that this is a true story, not fiction. The events covered are those related to the Ethiopian election in 2005 and during the time from 2005 up to 2009.

The reason I chose the title of this book as Seewan is that in the old Bible testament in Hebrew language, the month of May is called Seewan. At the same time in the current Hebrew language, speakers call May calling sivan. So many including me have been jailed, killed, fled, and exiled. Many lives have turned upside down in connection to the election in May 7, 2005. So as a dedication to them, I have named this book Sivan.

On the other hand in writing this book, I haven’t tried to follow the required literary requirements. I couldn’t write the ends of the stories of some individuals because I only met them during my journey in immigration, so I apologize for that. And I will mention in the next volume those I meet by chance after this book is completed. On the other hand, since this is a true story I haven’t tried to novelize it. So I apologize in advance for any mistakes.

I cannot tell how much the purpose for the inception of this book will hit the target. I have written this book with the belief that everybody should understand the difficulties faced during immigration. Apart from that, I don’t intend to convince anyone not to flee his/her country.

Because everyone has the natural right to move from place to place, personally I don’t oppose immigration. But I advise that it is good to have a proper knowledge and information about the destination and route of one’s intended immigration.

Anyone who flees his/her country or leaving his/her property must not be getting any other solution for his problem. Considering the reality in our country, I believe, in my own opinion, that immigration is one way of protesting against dictators.

Pleasant reading.

Contents

Foreword

Gratitude

Prior Immigration

Part One: Addis Ababa Main Bus Terminal

Part Two: Bossasso (Port City of Northern Somalia)

Part Three: Shebwa Ber Ali (Yemeni Coast)

Part Four: Yemen—Sana’a

Foreword

The term boat people came into the political lexicon in the 1970s with the Vietnamese escaping communism to settle in other places. Then the term started to be used in other spots of the world, including the Caribbean in the 1980s when Cubans and Haitians flocked to the United States fleeing political and economic downturns.

In the past couple of years, Ethiopians and Somalis are joining this group in leaps and bounds—Somalis fleeing chaos, and Ethiopians leaving their homeland for a myriad of reasons. The latter are an odd addition to the club in that they are boat people of a landlocked country.

The boat people of the Horn of Africa began grabbing world attention with reports of hundreds of people drowning in the high seas. While there have been some attempts to document these treacherous sea journeys, its full story is far from being told.

Among such attempts is Daniel Gezahegn’s work entitled Siwan, the word—we are told—means May in Hebrew. The 279-page story written in Amharic is a firsthand account of a refugee heading to Yemen by all means available. There lies the main advantage of the work as opposed to reports of the media that happen to write the news from exhausted survivors of the arduous sea journey. Daniel says he was fleeing persecution for stories he published while working in the private weeklies of Moged and Gemena, which he edited at different times.

The book explains in detail the routes the writer took to get to the waters of Yemen, starting from the good old long-distance bus terminal locally known as Atobis Tera at the heart of Addis in December 2005 following the chaos of the general elections earlier in May. He talks of his childhood villages on the way to Jijiga and then to the port city of Bossaso in the self-declared state of Puntland. The situation where gangs and warlords control large swath of territory and even levying tax begins in the peripheries of Ethiopia.Then that pattern follows the immigrants all the way to the shores of Yemen.

It is difficult to track how many days and nights the writer spent before crossing the Gulf of Aden. In those circumstances, days and nights lack meanings. One hardly tells what day of the week is any given day. All that matters is getting there at all cost. However, the most dangerous trip was the over forty hours’ journey on the water where about 150 people are crammed into a rickety boat made for a dozen people. Some of the stories told in this fateful journey are too gruesome to mention. Suffice to say it is a life-and-death situation. The harsh circumstances, however, hardly deter refugees from getting to the Middle East. According to the UN Refugee Agency UNHCR, only last year, 84,000 Ethiopians crossed the Gulf of Aden in similar manner.

The writer is lucky in that he lived to tell the tale. Somehow the risks paid. His four years’ sojourn in Yemen was concluded with a resettlement to the US. Many have not been as lucky.

The book is informative and gives a good picture of life of refugees in that part of the world. One cannot help but point out that readers could have benefitted from some images of daily life in Bosaso, Aden, or Sana’a.

Among the challenges of writing such stories is the author’s exclusive reliance on personal memories. The problem arises when conversations begin. One can hardly remember each and every sentence as spoken. Years back when veteran journalist and a one-time minister Ahadou Saboure wrote his memoir, some of the criticisms revolved around the conversations aboard a vessel in the port of Djibouti, most of which were held in French.

While these exchanges are important to stories, there must be other ways of presenting them, at least not in direct quotes.

That in general becomes a challenge to all those who embark on such endeavor.

This article is hardly a review, rather an appreciation to a writer who brought the story against all odds.

Reported on ECDF Ecadef forum, most Ethiopian issues reporting and observing web media

Hindessa Abdul

Gratitude

While many people had helped me to overcome the obstacles in my life especially through the trying events leading up to the birth of this book, I offer my first gratitude to God Almighty.

Thanks to Elsabeth Wichell, Shirin Mendez (CPJ), Prisca Orsano, Marital Tornaro, Robert Minard (RSF), Lidya Tabtab (Doha Centre for Media Freedom), Rig Jel (PEN Netherland) Wayne, Elsabeth Kenteni, Nadine Jurat, Nicholas Rugger (Rory Peck Trust UK), Tamsin Michelle (PEN International UK), Ernest Sagaga Ifj, Elias Wondimu (PEN America), Alexandra (World Association of Newspaper – RAP), Nejla Dean, and Jima Woods (UNHCR).

Journalist and author Tesfaye Gebre-ab, I have learnt special lessons from you without having to go to school. Thank you.

The great respected elderly man of my nation, Abba Osha Guda Si Geleta, God bless, Abba. The brilliant journalists Abiey Afework and Atkilt Assefa.

Thanks to my younger brother Henok and all my brothers and sisters. I always have you in my heart. God bless all those who have good will for me and those I have not mentioned.

Prior Immigration

If you want to know the situation ahead and what is going to happen next ask those who are coming from where you are going.

—Chinese saying

Anybody knows about the main necessities for a person to stay alive. But for a person who has endured hardship for days on end without food and water, hope is the most important necessity. In fact, it is mentioned in spiritual teachings that man cannot live on food alone.

But mine is exceptional. I wouldn’t suggest to anyone to go through what I did. But I had to go through all that trial and test of life.

I recall a proverb, though I can’t recall who said it. Hope is a necessary ration in life’s journey. Indeed it is. Only if we remove it from inside of us it becomes otherwise. In order to see tomorrow and to have a bright future, it is better to have hope.

I say that to understand the value of hope, it is enough to think of the pride of Americans, Abraham Lincoln, who has taken desert insects as examples to make his dream come true.

So life cannot be lived by dropping one’s anchor at a spot in the middle of the ocean and waiting to receive bread from the moon.

I love my country. But after having the bitter taste of being unfairly and repeatedly imprisoned, injured, and harassed in my own country, I was forced to choose the more difficult hardship of migration.

Believe it or not, I have seen death in the eyes; I have confronted death and defeated it. Please don’t misunderstand me; I am with my conscience, and I am writing exactly about what I went through.

This book is the result of extreme injustice caused by dictators. Bad deed begets bad deed. Trying to force people to accept what they don’t want only leads to rebellion and immigration.

Nowadays, Ethiopia takes the lion’s share in the number of immigrants who, for various reasons, cannot live in their own country and so are forced to seek life elsewhere.

Still, when the immigrants’ numbers gets out of their control, the dictators try to relate the immigration with freedom of movement from place to place. At the same time, if they can, they catch those who try to run away from the system and torture them in one way or another.

When you think of it, nobody who has the ability and the opportunity to work and live in his/her own country opts to immigrate to another country to be a servant and lead a degraded life. But if they don’t have the personal freedom in their own country, it is not considered odd for them to choose to be servants in another country.

I was forced to decide to immigrate due to the events during and following the 2005 election in Ethiopia. I had six different accusations before, during, and after the election, out of which I was granted bail for the three.

In April 2000, I was jailed for fifteen days in Wereda 14 prison and then for one month in the main notorious jail (Kerchellae). The reason was because of the report released in the Gemena newspaper of a corruption case against three church officials and the then prime minister Tamerat Layne in coffee sale.

I was editor in chief and Girum Teklehaimanot was deputy editor in chief of the newspaper. Girum was jailed with me in District 14 prison, and we both were attacked by fierce police dogs there. I will write about this and about other colleagues of mine in another book. Anyway, since the editor in chief had to take responsibility, Girum was released, and I remained in jail. That case was in debate for a few years, and after the election I got a phone call from the police and was told that I was wanted for questioning. At that time some journalists have been arrested along with Kinijit (the main opposition party) leaders, and I knew bail was not granted at that time. I was told by a legal expert even though I had the chance to be freed due to the debating points I had, since the government and its court system are not fair, I would be jailed for at least four years without bail.

Then while I was in dilemma about what to do, I got another call from crime investigation center saying that I was wanted. So I had to choose immediately whether to hide within the country or to cross the border and flee.

Dictators usually snatch nationalities from their citizens, and I had been writing about such cases for many years. At last a similar case knocked on my door. I always remember the Ethiopian free press journalists who had to flee and were forced to live in exile due to the oppression they face from dictators.

I’ll be glad to receive comments at [e-mail].

Daniel Gezahegn Wendemu

2019

Sioux Falls

SD

Part One

Addis Ababa Main Bus Terminal

To give up freedom for a little safety Will result in loss both freedom and safety.

—Benjamin Franklin

I am wide awake. The whole day, my travel partner and I have been discussing about our travel. Even now in the middle of the night, there is nothing else in my mind except my travel (immigration), cursing the system, which forced me to flee, leaving my infant baby girl. I feel more tenderness toward my first child now that she is just past one year of age. She and her mother are in deep sleep. I am sitting at the edge of the bed and looking at them tenderly. I had not given my child as much time as I would like because I had to work most of the day, so her mother and the housemaid had to take care of her. I admire my wife for her ability in managing and taking care of the household. The circumstances under which our baby was born were different, and those under which we met and got married were amazing.

I was a journalist in a newspaper, and she used to read. I had written a true story article about a man who was killed and buried at his workplace by his employers. She read that article and wrote all that she felt about the case to the newspaper editorial office from abroad where she used to live. I found the letter in the office, and I replied, thanking her. Then we continued communicating and started understanding and liking each other. Things didn’t stop there. When she came back to Ethiopia, a lot happened between us to make us fall in love, and we got married.

But then since she had family responsibility, she had to go back to the country she came from. And because our love had a very good basis, we were eager to have a child.

Then she had to come back again after six months because she was pregnant, and we started living together. Amazingly we had named our child before she was conceived, and my wife had brought all the necessary baby stuff, including girl clothing for her when she came from abroad. Sadly the baby died within two days after her birth. Though our hearts were broken, we hurried to conceive another child. God blessed us, and my wife conceived again. But then I was accused along with the press (I will talk about this case later). Both me and my wife agreed that I had to flee the country, but I was caught at the Kenyan border by Ethiopian immigration authority and was accused of passing information to OLF (Oromo Liberation Frount) and was jailed in five state and city prisons in Ethiopia. My wife along with her entire family were coming from state to city prisons to visit me and pass me food. Then after ups and downs, just when I was released after paying a large sum of money as bail, my wife was attacked by leukemia. Her white blood cells were multiplying excessively, and the red blood cells were reducing in numbers. Her condition was getting worse day by day. I had just come out of prison. I had to take care of my wife, and the expenses for her treatment were very high.

Even after visiting all the known hospitals in Addis Ababa, my wife could not get cured; most of them said that she had to go to South Africa or India in order to get cured. In the end, following the advice we got from an unexpected medical expert, my wife’s (Yimenu’s) condition started improving, and with intensive follow-up, she was cured.

After that my wife gave birth to a beautiful child in a good condition.

Now I couldn’t be with my child to even see her become one and a half years old. Sitting at the edge of my bed, I continued with my memory of the past.

I thought about the project I was working on from my office (Daniel Promotion and Advertising Agency) before the complication of the election started. The project was of my own conception, and it was named Miss Visionary Ethiopia. It was a beauty contest between HIV-positive women. I had planned to run it first nationwide then in the African continent. I was busy working on the promotion (using documentary film and colored magazines) to collect up to one million birr for the project. After the work within the country, we had an opportunity to work in South Africa and Thailand.

So my company and Tesfa Goh Ethiopia, the HIV-positive people’s association, signed a contract to do the work at an equal share. Mr. Tadesse Aynalem from Tesfa Goh, the chairperson, and model Woynishet from my company were supposed to do the work according to the agreement. Then some of the free press journalists who were following the project closely printed articles about the agreement in their papers. After the articles were read, a person I had never seen before (later I discovered that he was a representative in Tesfa Goh and a member of ruling party political person) called me to his office and asked me to cancel the contract. I had to cancel.

Then my mind went to another unfinished work of mine. It was on victims of pedophilia. I had gathered a lot of information on the case, and I was planning on getting it printed, which would be my first book. I regretted having to flee before completing that work, and since most of the information was still in voice data, I couldn’t carry it with me. I am not sure whether I can get these data later.

I thought of Somalia, the country I have to transit on the way to Yemen, where I planned to seek asylum. I and my travel partner, Tamerat Serbessa, had been seeking information about the conditions in the route and at our destination (Yemen) where another of our colleague, Girum Teklehaimanot, was staying. We got most of the information we needed from Tsion (Girum’s younger sister). She told us that apart from a little bad incident with the police at Jijiga, Girum had arrived in Yemen without much of a problem.

But she couldn’t tell much about his condition in Yemen. To go to Yemen, I had to pass through Somalia. Somalia was divided in three parts and especially the northern port (Bessasso), where I am supposed to pass through, was under Puntland administration. Bessasso, relatively, was more peaceful than Mogadishu, which was under Baydewa administration. I’ve heard that though the administration of Bessasso has a good relationship with the Ethiopian government, the people of Bessasso were more cooperative toward immigrants from Ethiopia than the Ethiopian government.

The Middle Eastern nation, Yemen, has a lot of connections with Ethiopia. They lay claim to our Queen Sheba (Saba) and King Kaleb too. Documents show that Ethiopia and Yemen had considerable historical relationship during King Abraha of Ethiopia’s time. Even as recent as King Hailesilassie’s administration, many Yemenis used to live in Ethiopia freely until they were chased away during the Chairman Mengistu Hailemariam administration. There are quite a few people who have half Yemeni and half Ethiopian blood living in both countries having dual citizenship.

Then I thought about how I am going to be received in Yemen as a refugee. I’ve heard news of the Yemeni government gathering and deporting immigrants from Ethiopia back to their country. But I know that Yemen is the only nation in the Middle East peninsula that signed in agreement to the 1951 Geneva Convention and the 1967 protocols. Since I have the required documents by the convention to seek asylum, I felt confident. I had only a few hours left to start my journey to another poor country to seek refuge.

My travel partner was waiting for my phone call. I called him to tell him that I was starting from home. Before leaving, I kissed my child on the forehead for the last time until I could meet her again. My wife bade me farewell calmly and confidently. I also suppressed my feelings and