“Life was a constant horror”: Stories from a survivor of one of the deadliest massacres in the Tigray war

“Life was a constant horror”: Stories from a survivor of one of the deadliest massacres in the Tigray war

The [Tigray war] in Ethiopia’s Tigray region, one of the bloodiest wars in recent years, left hundreds of thousands dead and over a million displaced. Goitom Mekonen, author of  Primed for DEATH, survived this devastating war. In an interview with journalist Natalie Sousa from Seznam Zprávy, a Czech news website, he recounts his memories from the worst period of his life. Here we provide a translation of the full interview. 

Can you briefly introduce yourself? Your name, where you are from, what you did and do as an occupation, a little bit of your background.

Thank you for the opportunity to speak. My name is Goitom Mekonen. I was born in Tanqua Abergele, Tembien in Tigray, the war-ravaged northernmost region of Ethiopia, into a family dedicated to serving their community. I’m a typical Tigrayan, having been raised in various parts of Tigray. I spent most of my childhood with my dad in Mandar Aurora – a small town near Dansha in Western Tigray. Prior to the war, I was a university lecturer at Adigrat University, one of Ethiopia’s public universities. Beyond the classroom, I was actively engaged within my community and channeled my free time and energy into numerous social entrepreneurial efforts. I co-founded and led TigraiCodes, an initiative to teach coding to high schoolers. I also co-founded Tigrai Hiking Group, an initiative to promote a healthy lifestyle among our youth and to explore Tigray’s breathtaking landscapes.

How was your life before the Tigray war?

My life before the war was inspiring and meaningful. I was fully occupied with bringing my ideas to life and dedicating my time and energy to initiatives that I believed were transformational. I was happy with my life overall, enjoying a romantic relationship and the support of my partner, and planning to start my own family. The years from 2019 up until the day the invaders came into Tigray and destroyed our homeland were especially significant—those were the best years I had ever experienced.

 What was it like when it [the war] started? What is your recollection of the start of the war? What do you remember, what were you doing when you realized that something bad was going to happen? 

It was back in November 2020, an ordinary month like the ones before, when my team and I were in Aksum giving training to high schoolers at Aksum University. The training was fully sponsored by the university, and we were in our third week, just one week away from completion, when the war broke out. At that time, the regional government declared a state of emergency, and it was then that we officially learned that Ethiopia had declared war on Tigray. Again. Around midnight on November 4th, everything went dark—network, banking, telecommunication, and all modes of transportation were cut off from Tigray. We had no choice but to helplessly await the horror that was coming our way. I was deeply sad, confused, and heartbroken, especially knowing there was nothing I could do to stop it.

When did you realize that you had to escape from Tigray? 

As I mentioned, I was in Aksum, Tigray, at the start of the war. As Tigray was systematically blockaded and besieged from all directions by the central government in Addis Ababa, and with the invading forces coming in from all sides, there was no way to escape. Nearly two weeks into the war, on November 19th, around 2 pm, Aksum and its neighbors were heavily and randomly bombarded by the heavy artillery of the Eritrean and Ethiopian forces. Everyone was fleeing the town to neighboring areas, and some of my colleagues even made it on foot all the way from Aksum to Mek’ele, the capital of Tigray. My family members, who were in town at that time, urged me to flee with them.

I decided to stay in Aksum because I realized that the chances of escape were quite slim, and I doubted the feasibility of survival given that we were surrounded by enemies from all directions. I told my family, “I have decided to stay in town. I came to Aksum with a mission, and I am still committed to fulfilling it.”

I stayed for two horrific months in Aksum, barely surviving the Aksum Massacre. I lost my younger brother. Also, my younger sister’s arms and legs were heavily wounded, and she was left in the town with no medical support like many Tigrayans languishing in despair. I felt powerless, desperate, consumed by the darkness of it all. Our lives were in constant horror, day in and day out. The Ethiopian and Eritrean forces were committing unimaginable atrocities that still haunt me to this day. The longer I stayed in Aksum, the more I believed I was wasting my time without contributing [to the cause] unless I joined the Tigrayan forces. So, I decided it was best to leave Aksum for Mek’ele.

On January 9, 2021, following the ENDF’s [Ethiopian National Defense Forces’] occupation of Mek’ele, I was able to travel there—regrettably without fulfilling the mission for which I had gone to Aksum. Two weeks after I arrived in Mek’ele, I shared my personal account of the Aksum Massacre with the public, which was published on Tghat.com. The response to the story was touching. So far, it has received more than 94,000 viewers. 

A couple of months after my stay in Mek’ele, I went to Addis Ababa for personal matters, planning to return to Tigray in early July 2021. I never made it back after the Tigrayan forces conquered Mek’ele and liberated most of Tigray on June 28th, as the government in Addis Ababa once again blocked all means of transportation to and from Tigray. To this day, nearly three years later, I have not returned to Tigray, having been forced to escape not only from Tigray but also from Ethiopia.

You mention that you managed to escape the massacre in Aksum. Can you elaborate on that more concretely (if not, I totally understand, no pressure at all)?

The Aksum Massacre was a massacre of civilians that took place between November 28th and 29th in Aksum by the Eritrean forces. Aksum was preparing to celebrate St. Mary’s Zion Day, an annual celebration held in the town usually on November 29th and 30th. At that time, I was staying in a hotel that the university rented for us for our training, and that’s how I witnessed it all. During the massacre, I was in the hotel, watching the murders in the street from the hotel as it was located on the main road.

One question people asked me was: how did I barely escape the massacre? My answer was this: our hotel, along with another hotel at the other corner, was one of only two not searched by soldiers during their systemic house-to-house search in the town. The reason they skipped our hotel was that its doors were made of glass, and the owner had cleared the items from the balcony before the Eritrean soldiers’ arrival in the town. It was visible from the outside, making the soldiers believe there were no people inside. They headed to the next building, which was a bank, while we were on the top floor of the hotel inside our rooms, filled with great fear, despair, and waiting our turn to be killed. 

Please describe the process of fleeing. How was it? Which route did you choose and why? 

This was the experience I really wanted to share with the public someday. To our dismay, Ethiopia wasn’t just hell for us when we were inside its territories but also when we tried to flee. My first attempt to flee the country was in early July 2021, when the Tigrayan forces were marching toward the capital and had already begun winning in many areas in the Amhara region. Tigrayans in the capital and other parts of Ethiopia were being detained en masse. With no transportation to and from Tigray at that time, my only option to escape from that calamity was to leave the country and stay in Nairobi, Dubai, or elsewhere until the war ended. Sadly, even before I could succeed in booking a ticket and fulfilling the necessary documents, the police arrested me, and I stayed in prison for 96 hours.

Once I was released, I completely abandoned the idea of leaving the country and decided to document what my fellow Tigrayans and I had been through in the capital. I stayed there for another year — it was really a tough time. My days and nights in Addis were dark and depressing. The fear that the police would come to my place at any time deprived me of my peace and sleep. I had to change locations every three months to avoid being easily recognized and catching the eyes of the police or neighbors.

On October 26, 2022, I decided to leave the country for good. Nairobi, Kampala, and Dubai were on the list as my next destinations. I had two options to travel there: either by road from Addis Ababa through Moyale to Nairobi or by airplane from Addis Ababa to Nairobi or Kampala or Dubai. I sought detailed information and advice from people I knew.

Traveling by road to Nairobi, though cheaper, posed significant risks due to the many checkpoints. With a Tigrayan name on my passport, I would be an easy target, and the chance of safely passing through was low. There were also smugglers who could facilitate this, but I didn’t feel comfortable with that option. Ultimately, I decided to travel by plane.

I arrived at Bole Airport around 6:30 am on November 27, 2022, despite my flight being scheduled for 10:30 am. I arrived early in the morning because I feared I might get in trouble, a common concern among Tigrayans for the same reason. Everything seemed fine until I reached the departure hall. There was a long queue. The clerk checked my passport and flight details and informed me that I needed to clear the immigration desk before they could pack and send my luggage to the cargo. This immediately posed potential trouble ahead.

At the immigration desk, almost everyone was granted an exit visa without any issues, except me. When it was my turn, the officer handling the cases stared at me after reading my name on the passport. Without speaking a word, he gestured for me to stay far away from him, motioning with his hands. I asked him why but received no answer despite my repeated questions. I had all the necessary documents: a renewed passport, travel histories before the war, and previous abroad study experiences. Yet, he continued to ignore me. Abruptly, he shouted at me, threatening to tear up my ticket and passport if I didn’t comply with his instructions to stay away. He called me a “traitor,” showing his anger.

Feeling frightened, I obeyed. I waited alone in a corner of the hall for about an hour, fearing my travel plans might be disrupted or worse. Suddenly, luck intervened when a security officer noticed me standing at a distance. He approached and asked about my situation. After reviewing my documents and confirming all my past travel histories, he told me, ‘You are okay to travel.’ Together, we returned to the immigration officer, who finally allowed me to proceed with the clearance.

With just 10 minutes left before the departure terminal closed, I finally received clearance and hurried towards the boarding gates to leave Ethiopia behind once and for all.

But first, could you briefly describe how you escaped from Tigray to Addis Ababa? If you could say something about it, shortly and maybe why you didn’t go back precisely.

As I said, the war on Tigray started on November 4, 2020. Almost within a month of fighting, the ENDF easily seized Mek’ele, the capital of Tigray, on November 28, 2020. The central government then began resuming transportation in all the areas it had controlled. Around the end of December, civilians were allowed to travel from Aksum to Mek’ele for the first time during the war, with many strict checkpoints along the way from Aksum through Adwa, Adigrat, and finally to Mek’ele. Most of the soldiers on the roads and at the checkpoints were Eritrean forces. 

After hearing rumors and seeing minibusses arriving in Aksum for about two weeks, I traveled to Mek’ele from Aksum on January 9, 2021. I stayed there for three months with family members. After three months, as transportation to and from Tigray to Addis Ababa – both by road and airplane was permitted, albeit with high security, I went to Addis Ababa on May 11, 2021, by airplane. After staying in Addis for a month and a couple of weeks and completing my exams at the British Embassy, it was my plan to return to Tigray.

However, the Tigrayan forces fought back, conquered Mek’ele, and liberated most of Tigray in late June. Following this, the central government blocked all roads leading to Tigray once again after losing battles. That’s why I didn’t go back to Tigray and had to seek other means for my survival.

Where did you flee exactly and did it bring a sense of relief to you? 

I came to Nairobi, Kenya, which has become my second home since I left Ethiopia. The city is peaceful and beautiful, and I feel relatively secure here. The community shows much more sympathy to us compared to my experience in Addis Ababa. In Addis, I constantly feared that the police would knock on my door any day and arrest me, especially when they found out I was writing a book. I know that Tigrayans are not safe anywhere since the war started, but I feel somewhat thankful to have fled that disgraceful country and to be able to pursue my aspirations here in Nairobi, which was very difficult while I was in Addis. I am okay now.

What are you doing now? Do you have any plans to return to Tigray?

After my life was harshly interrupted by the war, I am now dedicated to surviving and committed to telling the world about the Tigray Genocide. Currently, I am working on another project related to the war, combining my professional background with storytelling. This project aims to quantify the efforts made by our diaspora community during the war. The idea for this project was born after my memoir was published. Over the past year, I have been studying courses related to data analytics and data science from ALX Africa and other boot camp courses to complete this project. I see this as another contribution I could make towards raising awareness and supporting Tigray and its just causes.

My heart is still in Tigray, and it remains my passion. I always think about how I can contribute to my community’s rebuilding, but the political situation and overall environment back home are really discouraging right now. Returning feels like I might waste my efforts again. I had placed my trust in the government and community, along with my commitment to making a positive impact in Tigray. When the war broke out, however, I found myself lacking the safety and support I needed, which left me feeling deeply betrayed. I really suffered a lot, and I am still in the process of reinventing myself. Therefore, I haven’t decided when I will return or where I will relocate after completing my current project. But, I greatly hope that there will be a day when I can return to my passion projects in Tigray.

Can you describe – in general – why Tigray people are facing this violence in  Ethiopian society? And what are your personal experiences facing oppression by the majority?

The background for the Tigray war is really complicated, cyclical, and historical. There are incompatible ideologies, especially between the ethnicities of Amhara and Tigray in the country, on how Ethiopia should be shaped economically, culturally, and politically. And now external forces have added to it with their geopolitical interests in the country as well as the region.

Throughout history, we Tigrayans have fought for a federated Ethiopia, while the Amhara have aimed to build a “unified Ethiopia” dominated solely by their irrational and old-fashioned thinking and culture. Tigrayans, being a minority in the country, have been subjugated by the regimes in the capital and seen as the enemy of the Amharanized Ethiopia project by the majority. It was, and still is, key for them to erase us from the face of the earth so they can claim the whole of Ethiopia with no opposition. For this reason, we have endured numerous brutal atrocities, and this current genocide is no exception.

And personally, in this war, I have been subjected to widespread discrimination and harassment: I have been called “Junta,” a term the majority of Ethiopians used quite often as a pretext to target and exterminate Tigrayans. While the police were arresting me, they called me “Devil,” “Cancer,” and “His mother’s breast biter.” I was denied the opportunity to apply for jobs in the country and was interrogated unlawfully by the police, the security personnel, and their supporters whenever I tried to go outside in the capital.

What about the situation in Tigray right now? Do you have any family members? How do you stay in touch? 

The situation in Tigray is volatile, stressful, and unpredictable. We had hoped that the Pretoria Agreement would bring optimism, peace, and rebuilding to the region and its people. While the active fighting has stopped, the crisis remains largely untouched. Our people’s miseries are worsening as time passes.

All my family members are still back home. I talk to my sister and other family members over the phone or sometimes on the internet. Hearing their accounts makes you lose hope in everything that is happening in Tigray as well as in Ethiopia. They live in constant fear, unsure if another war will break out, perhaps even tomorrow morning. They told me that many young people are leaving Tigray at any cost as they are already jobless and have no hope for the future.

There is a lot of news from Tigray – people starving, violence, isolation, etc. – can you comment on that? 

It’s been a long time since I stopped following the news regularly on Tigray. I just want to focus on what I am currently doing instead. But I still hear bad news from Tigray, one way or another. Our forcibly displaced people are still suffering in the IDP centers. They are not getting enough aid or medical care, and no one is helping them return to their homes.

Even though the interim administration has made efforts to reopen schools, many children of Tigray are still not attending. This is because IDPs are residing in the schools, some areas are still under enemy occupation, and schools and other infrastructure are almost completely destroyed due to the war.

Tigrayan women and children are among those who have greatly suffered as a result of this genocide. While troops who gang-raped our innocent girls and women have not been brought to justice, these atrocities continue in some occupied parts of Tigray. Eastern Tigray, specifically Irob, and Western Tigray are still under occupation. The enemies should withdraw so our IDPs can return to their homes and the atrocities stop. Our immense suffering has lasted for years.

What do you think could help the situation?

Regrettably, I am not well equipped to answer that comprehensively. And yet, a little kindness and humanity towards Tigray and Tigrayans from the international community would help immensely. While the worst 21st-century devastation is in Tigray, sadly, the world’s entire attention is elsewhere. Freedom and justice for Tigrayans could also make a momentous difference.

And why did you decide to write a book about the whole experience?

Writing my memoir, “Primed for DEATH,” as my personal account of the Tigray Genocide, wasn’t something I purposely planned. I never intended that I would write about war or genocide. It all happened unexpectedly. As I witnessed the brutality of Ethiopians on us Tigrayans, I felt a responsibility to document at least what I had been through—from the Aksum massacre to Mek’ele, and then the unlawful mass arrests, disappearances, ethnic profiling, and other discriminations against Tigrayans in Addis Ababa. I felt compelled to do something about it. I knew it was pretty [unlikely] to survive this war, and in case I didn’t, people would still know our story. Luckily, I have survived the genocide, and I thank everyone who was part of making this project a reality. The journey was anything but easy.

What was the worst moment for you since the beginning of the war?

My worst moment in this war is still the Aksum massacre. I saw dead bodies lying in the street with my own eyes. I saw residents transporting corpses using carts to the nearby church because there were too many bodies to be carried by people. I saw Eritrean soldiers forcing a mother to jump back and forth over her only child’s corpse.

I witnessed the killing of a guy named Fitsum, who worked at the hotel where I was staying. Some units of the Eritrean soldiers wore EPRDF-era Ethiopian army uniforms to fool the residents into thinking they were from the Tigrayan forces. Suddenly, Fitsum went outside to tell them that the Eritrean soldiers had gone in the other direction. Shortly after, we heard gunfire, and Fitsum never returned. We found his body on the street next to the hotel the next morning, his blood dried on the ground and on his clothing. He was killed after being hungry for two days with no food. 

I always think about that experience. I always think about that innocent man. I wish he hadn’t gone outside, and I wish we had a chance to save his life. Just as I always think about this, my sister also comes to my mind. She was with our younger brother when the Eritrean soldiers murdered him. I wonder, if I am going through all this pain for people I met only once in my life, how is she dealing with witnessing the killing of a loved one right in front of her eyes? It is really tough to bear it all. This war has cost us a lot.

You mention that you have unpleasant memories and bad feelings about the whole experience naturally. How exactly do they pop up, and how do you deal with them?

I see my past experiences in my dreams. I get flashbacks when I am alone and have time to think about all the damage done to Tigray. Recently, I had a bad, [the] roughest dream. I was in a small village with only four or five tent houses spread out at some distance from each other. I don’t know exactly where this place is, nor have I ever been to such a place. I was standing near one of the houses when I suddenly saw an Eritrean soldier following me from behind. Immediately, I ran to another tent house and saw another soldier there as well. I ran in a different direction, but there was yet another soldier coming toward me. I realized I was surrounded by the soldiers and had no option to escape. I desperately wanted to escape, but there was no way I could. I was so angry about how I ended up in such a deadly situation and wondered why I was seeing Eritrean soldiers in a place I had never been to. The only way I could escape was to wake up from my dream. That’s when I realized I was okay and still in my bed past midnight.

I shared this with my sister and friends. They advised me that such experiences won’t disappear easily; they need time and will keep popping up in one way or another. They tell me that we are not yet fully healed, especially seeing things have gotten worse for Tigray and our people. They say it is good that I share my experience with others in writing – the best thing one could do if they really want to heal properly. Many people resonate with my experiences, and when I hear those messages, I feel okay. I feel heard. I feel I will be okay one day.

August 2024

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