Eid al-Fitr was his favourite holiday. Mohammed Ahmed delighted in distributing chocolates to children whenever the festive day arrived.
For him, it was a small but meaningful gesture that bridged generations and nurtured bonds with loved ones. Over the years, his tenure at Ethiopian Airlines provided access to a variety of sweets from across the globe, which he amassed meticulously. If his stash dwindled, he depended on relatives living abroad to replenish it, ensuring his tradition would not be interrupted.
Yet Mohammed was far more than a curator of global confectioneries. He served as Chief Aeronautical Engineer (CAE) and eventually became the Chief Executive Officer (CEO) of Ethiopian Airlines, presiding over a particularly difficult chapter in its history from 1980.
He was born, by official records, in 1932, though he shaved off two years from his age to meet the enlistment criteria of the Ethiopian Air Force in 1950. That slight act changed the trajectory of his life, granting him entry into a world of aviation, maintenance, and operational safety, fields he would later master and use to guide Africa’s largest and most revered airline to steady success.
His upbringing in Harar, under the watchful eye of his father, Ahmed Bomba, a respected trader, laid an early foundation of responsibility. He began his education at an Islamic school, cultivating intellectual curiosity and discipline. A degree in aeronautical engineering from Saint Louis University in the United States followed, equipping him with the technical acumen that was then a rarity in Ethiopian aviation.
His children — Khalid, Omar, and two others — speak of him as a figure who was strict but scrupulously fair, a father who instilled in them the same rigour he displayed professionally. They ascribe this iron discipline to the rigours of his military training, which shaped his outlook on work and family alike.
Away from the office, Mohammed harboured a deep affection for chess, a pursuit that mirrored his strategic mind. He would often be found playing at a cafe near the old Agip gas station on Africa Avenue (Bole Road), dissecting moves with the same precision he applied to aircraft safety checks. His children and grandchildren still recall how he outmanoeuvred nearly every human opponent, though the computer elicited his particular ire. Once bested by software, he would exhibit a flash of frustration only to double down and attempt to anticipate the machine’s strategies.
“He got furious at that,” they fondly remembered.
By the 1960s, Mohammed’s expertise made him a linchpin at Ethiopian Airlines, first as an engineer, then as regional manager in New York, and later as CEO. The era in which he assumed the leadership helm was hardly auspicious. The military-Marxist regime, then known as Derg, ruling Ethiopia after 1974, exerted persistent pressure to edge the airline with Soviet preferences. Most notably, the pressure of replacing the existing American-made fleet with Soviet aircraft loomed. Many believed the shift was inevitable, given the Derg’s pivot towards the Eastern Bloc.
But, Mohammed resisted forcefully, insisting that such a move would compromise safety and service quality. That instance of defiance proved momentous. Ethiopian Airlines continued with its fleet of Boeing-built planes, earning a reputation as “an island of capitalism in a sea of communism.”
Contemporaries attested to his unwavering commitment to excellence.
Girma Wake, who also served as CEO, admired Mohammed’s strategic vision and integrity. He recalled how Mohammed quit cigarettes in a single and decisive stroke. He resisted a pressure to join the ruling political party, the Workers Party of Ethiopia (WPE) actions that were considered risky at the time. He made difficult decisions that few wished to shoulder. He reduced the workforce by 20pc, a controversial and indispensable move in forging a leaner organisation equipped to compete internationally. Indeed, Girma credited Mohammed with laying the groundwork for what Ethiopian Airlines ultimately became, a global carrier with routes that now touch nearly every corner of the world.
“Without those moves, Ethiopian Airlines wouldn’t be what it is today,” he said.
Fellow colleague and onetime CEO Bisrat Nigatu echoed these sentiments, noting Mohammed’s eagerness to modernise and streamline. Under his watch, Ethiopian Airlines stabilised its finances, returned to profitability, and acquired the wide-body aircraft that heralded its transition to modern aviation. Bisrat recalled the arrival of the Boeing 767 was preceded by weeks of suspense, promotions proclaiming “767 is Coming” generating buzz throughout Addis Abeba.
Others remember Mohammed his profound conscious of inclusivity, believing that women deserved more place in an industry long defined by male expertise.
Assefa Ambaye, a colleague who grew to become a close friend, noted Mohammed’s willingness to open management and technical positions to women, insisting that ability, not gender, be the determinant of advancement. He was equally zealous about preserving the airline’s standards. He was remembered as a “walking leader,” who was rarely found in the office but often inspecting workstations and chatting with employees, from gardeners to technicians.
Omar, one of his sons, recalled a day when Mohammed took it upon himself to clean a bathroom at work, determined to exemplify the quality and cleanliness he expected from others.
“He led by example,” he said.
After leaving Ethiopian Airlines, he served as Secretary General of the African Airlines Association, championing the cause of African carriers on an international platform. Those efforts earned him a reputation as a pioneer far beyond Ethiopia’s skies. Throughout his career, he consistently rejected perks that he deemed unethical, such as government land grants, preferring instead to finance his own ventures. For his family, it was a mark of his integrity.
“He was a man of ethics,” said his other son, Khalid, who came to serve as a founding CEO of Ethiopia’s Agricultural Transformation Agency (ATA).
In retirement, he remained characteristically active.
Long walks became a daily ritual, and the pension in his right pocket was often distributed to those in need. He died on November 25, 2024, and was laid to rest at Kolfe Muslim Cemetery on St. Phillipos Road. His wife, Fethia Ahmed, has vowed to continue this habit, an apt embodiment of the generosity for which he was renowned.
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