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Month: May 2025

Ethiopia Courts the AI Future While the Lights Flicker

Posted on by Digital Editor

Last week, Millennium Hall’s biggest technology fair, ETEX 2025, looked like a scene from tomorrow.

Drones zig-zagged over polished floors, holograms shimmered, and entrepreneurs pitched start-ups against walls of pulsing LEDs. Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed (PhD) moved from booth to booth with a contagious optimism, as if Addis Abeba had already vaulted into the future. For three days, the capital toyed with what artificial intelligence (AI) promises. Yet, behind the flashing screens sat a quieter worry, echoed in capitals from Washington to Beijing.

What would happen to the world of work?

A report Goldman Sachs released two years ago estimated that up to 300 million full-time jobs worldwide could feel the force of AI, with developed economies taking the heaviest hit. According to this report, roughly a quarter of work in the United States falls under the shadow of generative tools that write emails, imitate voices and drive cars today. Tech giants frame the upheaval as a productivity gift whose benefits will trickle everywhere.

Ethiopia’s worries are different. Here, the risk is less that robots replace people than that the country is excluded from the conversation altogether. Nearly three-quarters of jobs are informal. Only about one-fifth of citizens are online. Individuals cannot be displaced by a technology they never had.

The economy, still anchored in agriculture and low-margin services, faces limited exposure to the white-collar automation jitters of the rich world. But immunity is not safety. Silence in a debate that will shape global labour markets could prove costly.

The story is as much about digital inequality as about automation itself. While policymakers abroad argue whether AI hollows out middle-class jobs, millions of Ethiopians struggle with the basics, such as steady electricity, affordable smartphones, and mobile data that does not swallow half a hard-earned monthly paycheck. The GSM Association pegs mobile internet penetration in sub-Saharan Africa at 28pc. Ethiopia trails even that modest average.

For contemporary Ethiopian leaders, ambition appears in abundance. Launched in 2020, the “Digital Ethiopia 2025” blueprint imagined a leap into the digital age. Four years on, many targets still hover out of reach. The Digital Transformation Council and a clutch of projects to digitise government services show promise, but the backbone is weak. Information and communications technology contributes less than two percent to gross domestic product (GDP), and start-ups battle paperwork that can feel Sisyphean.

AI could be written in code, but it is forged in silicon and steel. Chatbots rely on data centres, high-performance chips, and rock-solid power grids. Here, Ethiopia’s infrastructure gap turns from nuisance to deal-breaker. Fewer than half of households have electricity. Without juice, the smartest algorithm is a stranded file.

Abroad, countries such as India and Vietnam are building the machine rooms of the AI era, fabricating semiconductors, wiring servers, and supplying parts at a global scale. Inside Ethiopia’s industrial parks, most factories still stitch garments. The capacity to build or even assemble digital hardware is close to zero. Without that muscle, talk of an AI economy remains that—talk.

Platforms coded in London and hosted in Frankfurt already make decisions for Ethiopian users with scant local oversight. The result is a creeping erosion of digital sovereignty. Data generated in Addis Abeba flows abroad to be analysed, monetised and locked behind foreign terms of service. Ethiopia lacks a complete legal framework to protect that traffic.

Project forward, and the hazards multiply. An algorithm could deny a trader’s loan because it fails to grasp informal credit circles known as Iqub. Recruitment software might filter out a brilliant graduate because her university never appears on global rankings. Left unchecked, AI risks are becoming a bureaucratic blender that purees nuance and reproduces inequality.

Still, the country holds cards worth playing. Ethiopia’s linguistic wealth can be a competitive edge. Localised natural-language processing for Amharic, Afaan Oromo, Tigrinya and other vernaculars could transform government hotlines, e-learning and rural health outreach. Some seeds exist. The Ethiopian Artificial Intelligence Institute (EAII) is pushing research, and private outfits such as iCog Labs are training language models and diagnostics tuned to African realities.

However, those shoots will wither without broader support. Venture cash is scarce, and policy remains patchy. More urgent is the hardware shortfall. In an ecosystem where there are no chips to be sourced and no cloud to locate, there can be no serious AI. Investment in reliable electricity, whether hydro dams or solar mini-grids, would light homes and power server racks. Streamlined import rules for equipment could quicken the pace. Clear data-protection law would signal that digital rights matter and encourage investors.

Ethiopia’s population could top 150 million by 2050, most of them under 30. Whether that youth bulge becomes a dividend or a liability may depend on how the country handles AI over the next decade. Today’s students watch Wi-Fi connections from cafes that flicker whenever the power drops, and they are aware that peers abroad are already training machine-learning models.

For now, the robots are nowhere near the garment lines in Hawassa or the teff fields outside Bishoftu (Debre Zeit). The greater danger is that they may never arrive. The future migrates to places with stronger signals and fewer blackouts.

In the afterglow of ETEX 2025, it is tempting to believe the future has landed on Ethiopian soil. But a trade show is a snapshot, not a trend line. Ethiopians’ choice is clear. Either build the pipes, rules and factories that let AI take root, or watch as decisions about the economy, jobs and data are made elsewhere. The technology need not replace workers; it could empower them. First, though, it has to show up, and stay here.

Animals Need A Better World Too

Posted on by Digital Editor

A three-legged cat loiters at the gates of the Louvre, not the Parisian Museum, but a high-end French restaurant in Addis Abeba where I have had the privilege to dine on several occasions. The sight immediately reminded me of Puss in Boots: The Last Wish, the critically acclaimed animated blockbuster released in 2022. The film tells the story of a swashbuckling cat who burns through his nine lives with reckless abandon. But unlike the lucky feline on screen, the cat at the restaurant had only one life to live, and part of it had already been lost.

She had lost a leg after being electrocuted while climbing a wall laced with exposed power lines. A French friend dining with me that evening was deeply moved as we came across the animal outside of the restaurant in the parking lot. The cat has been lucky to survive, thanks to the restaurant staff and parking attendants who were vigilant and arranged the lifesaving emergency treatment needed after the accident. The outcome could have been entirely different in a less privileged, more dangerous neighborhood, one with a less sympathetic community and a harsher environment.

He bent down to observe the animal, noting solemnly that the wound was still open, raw and in need of further medical intervention. He wanted to do more, even contemplated taking her abroad for treatment, but he was flying out the next day, and the idea, however noble, was impossible to realise.

Flying animals out of the country is no small feat, something I learned years ago during a train ride from Frankfurt to Hamburg. Aboard the Deutsche Bahn, I met a Lithuanian woman traveling with a small pitch-black bulldog named Blue. I was hesitant to interact with the animal, then still indifferent to pets, but she encouraged me to pet the dog’s head. It pulsed gently beneath my palm, tender and warm.

Blue had flown in from Miami at a cost four times higher than her owner’s ticket. Between the custom-built crate, veterinary checks, insurance, and freight fees, the price was staggering. His owner was especially worried whether the tropical pup’s thin coat could withstand the harsh northern European winter.

Blue, however, was lucky. The cat at the Louvre, not so much. I had promised my friend I’d check on her, maybe arrange vet care in his absence. But once we left the restaurant, I forgot.

Months later, I sat with Michaela Engst, a German fashion designer and educator, working back and forth between Addis and Berlin since 2016, navigating Ethiopia’s unpredictable creative scene. Over glasses of Gebeta white wine at “The Space”, a vibrant art hub near the city’s Post Office Museum, Michaela struck me not just for her resilience and discipline, but for her compassion. As one subject led to the other in our laid-back evening in the small garden, the topic shifted to one that brought the cat’s fate back to mind.

We spoke of hobbies and passions, and to my surprise, she revealed she is an ardent animal rights advocate. She cares for a donkey and several dogs, feeding, sheltering, and providing medical attention out of her own pocket and her busy schedule.

When I told her about the three-legged cat, her reaction was immediate and visceral. She urged me to find out if the animal was still around. I reached out to my contacts at the restaurant. To my dismay, the cat was gone. Word had it she had been repeatedly impregnated by stray tomcats and considered a nuisance by passersby. Her disappearance remained unexplained, but not unexpected.

Michaela was heartbroken as the cat could have been afforded better medical attention only if located. Michaela’s unyielding German spirit persisted and her hope of retracing the cat was not extinguished. A close collaboration with the restaurant is giving her some leads though sketchy, but she still has not given up. She might succeed in finally rescuing the cat that she still did not see apart from my and other’s accounts. I really admire her kind heart and resilience in trying to resolve the existential problem of a helpless living creature living in distress. I keep my fingers crossed for good luck in the search.

There is a cruel irony here when you contrast her fate with that of world-famous Garfield, the lasagna-loving, Monday-hating comic strip cat who believes he adopted his owner. In the 2024 film, Garfield ends up in an animal shelter, bewildered and annoyed to find himself among the vulnerable. Watching that film last December and later spotting a Garfield T-shirt on a street in Bangkok during Christmas week, I could not resist buying it. The shirt reminded me of the comic, the movie, the nostalgia. But Garfield lives in utopian fiction. The real stories of animals, their pain, abandonment, and neglect play out invisibly around us.

Donkeys and horses suffer especially brutal lives in Addis Abeba and its outskirts. I once encountered a terrifying scene while driving along a cobblestone path. A horse, overloaded with household items, closets, chairs, tables, was being mercilessly whipped by its handler. The load was not only excessive but asymmetrically packed, causing the animal to panic. It reared violently, its hooves flailing in protest.

The chaos unfolded just feet from my car, and I felt trapped – like I was in the eye of a storm. Only a narrow gap opened up as the horse turned sideways, allowing me to hit the gas and escape. In my rearview mirror, I saw the cart lurch forward again. I could not help but wonder if my car’s presence had worsened the ordeal.

But that incident was far from isolated. In neighborhoods like Ayat, CMC, Bole Arabsa, and Legetafo, it is common to see horses too sick or injured to work, left to die slow, agonizing deaths. Some are covered in sores, blinded by infections, left to die a slow and painful death. Sometimes the hyenas relieve the equine of its misery by dealing the coup de grace.

Donkeys, whose population in Ethiopia exceeds 10 million, the highest in the world, fare no better. Their suffering is constant and mostly invisible. An article by Dawn Vincent from the Anglo-Ethiopian Society tells the story of a collaborative effort between the Donkey Sanctuary (a UK-based charity) and the Faculty of Veterinary Medicine at Addis Abeba University. They have established a clinic in Debre Zeit, one small but vital initiative in a country overflowing with neglected working animals.

I am reminded of the late Professor Andreas Eshete, Ethiopia’s renowned philosopher and public intellectual. During my high school and early university years, I would often see an amber-colored mule grazing outside his home near Sar Bet. Many were baffled by the sight. Why would a man known for championing heritage, justice, and culture keep a mule by his villa?

Word eventually spread that it was his. It turned out to be a powerful statement, an effort to inspire dignity and compassion for an animal that had borne humanity’s burdens for millennia without thanks or reprieve.

Michaela once told me: “Animals have no voice to speak of their suffering. They cannot demand dignity. That responsibility falls to us. We must act with reason, conscience, and care in this shared world.”

She muses pensively in a manner that makes me really question our collective conscience and says “At least if one does not care about animal’s wellbeing, why be cruel? Just do no harm!”.

A powerful argument that triggers the need for serious soul searching as it is a rampant practice and an uneasy truth as most people are vicious against animals for no apparent reason. In my mind came flashbacks of people on the street raining a hailstorm of rocks on a stray dog, or a donkey driver mercilessly hitting the loaded animal with stick and no one bothering to remove the gruesome remains of cat or dog hit by speeding car. I really wonder what went wrong with us or where we derailed from basic moral universe when it comes to animals.

Indeed, the world should not just be better for humans, but for animals too!

Getting Debt Sustainability Right in Developing Countries

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A slowing global economy, rising trade tensions, and increased risks of recession could mean a perfect storm for low- and middle-income countries (LMICs) burdened by high sovereign debt. Faced with exorbitant borrowing costs and an increasingly jittery international environment, these countries’ potential for economic growth and development will be severely curtailed.

Given the circumstances, the current international financial architecture, particularly its approach to debt sustainability, needs to be overhauled. Only by embracing a new approach to developing-country debt will these countries be able to generate the investment flows they so desperately need to kickstart long-term growth.

The concept of debt sustainability remains heavily influenced by the International Monetary Fund (IMF)-World Bank Debt Sustainability Framework, even though economists within both institutions have long recognised the DSF’s inadequacies. It is supposed to balance the need for development financing with debt sustainability, but it often advocates suboptimal levels of government spending and investment, inadvertently contributing to future economic distress in developing countries.

It also frequently fails to account for the scale of investment required, and it is insufficiently sensitive to economic and external shocks.

The DSF has historically overstated the potential of fiscal consolidation to spur economic growth, leading to persistent forecast errors and higher-than-anticipated debt ratios. One critical flaw is its limited consideration of the long-term benefits of debt-financed investments, particularly in areas like the green transition. The framework needs to evolve from a tool focused on debt reduction at all costs to one that incentivises investments designed to drive future growth and long-term fiscal sustainability.

We are already seeing some advanced economies, such as Germany, moving beyond their debt ceilings to increase public spending on defence and other urgent needs. Policymakers in these countries understand that borrowing to fund government consumption is fundamentally different from making strategic investments in infrastructure or climate adaptation, which can offset future economic losses and bolster debt sustainability over time.

Similarly, lending decisions for LMICs should be based on long-term models of debt sustainability, not simplistic rules-of-thumb like countries’ debt-to-GDP ratio. Achieving debt sustainability is more likely if adjustment programs facilitate high investment since this can underpin stronger economic growth. Investment-driven borrowing, when managed effectively, has been linked to low sovereign debt risks and should, therefore, be encouraged.

Of course, the most immediate issue is the large debt overhang many LMICs face. Past successful interventions have already shown that debt relief, deep reductions or suspensions of interest payments, cuts to charges and surcharges on credit, and increases in grant allocations and available special drawing rights (SDRs, the IMF’s reserve asset) should all be on the table.

But, addressing LMICs’ long-term financing needs requires broader reforms. A major boost in long-term, low-cost financing is essential. Multilateral development banks and international development finance institutions can and should play a central role in gradually increasing affordable lending. They are the only ones who can provide countercyclical lending when private financing is limited, commodity prices are falling, or the global economy is in crisis.

We need more initiatives like the African Development Bank’s African Development Fund, which provides concessional funding, grants, project preparation resources, and guarantees for low-income regional members.

The current conception of debt sustainability for LMICs is based on a fallacy that hinders global growth and sustainable development. We should move from a narrow focus on debt reduction to a broader understanding of debt sustainability that focuses on long-term investment-driven growth.

By rethinking debt sustainability, the international community can empower LMICs to embark on a path of sustained economic development. A bold reimagining of the international financial architecture is imperative to avert prolonged debt crises, restore fiscal sustainability, and ensure global economic stability.

The Fourth UN International Conference on Financing for Development, which will take place in Seville, Spain, in July, will give developing countries an opportunity to speak with one voice to the Western-backed institutions that oversee the current international financial architecture. These institutions hold the key to unlocking developing countries’ shackles of unsustainable debt and bringing about the systemic changes that could revolutionise development finance.

Foreign Aid Looks Good Now That It’s Gone

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When Joni Mitchell sang the line “Don’t it always seem to go, that you don’t know what you’ve got ’til it’s gone” in 1970, she was lamenting the destruction of the environment, but the sentiment applies to many issues. Today, we can add official development assistance (ODA) to the list.

For some 80 years, the United States (US) spent more on humanitarian assistance, economic development programs, and other types of foreign aid than any other government. In the 2023 fiscal year, the US government disbursed 72 billion dollars, with much more coming from private NGOs and individual citizens.

But, the US does not spend the most as a share of its income. By that measure, the US contributes only 0.24pc, a quarter of what northern European countries give, putting it in 24th place globally. Foreign aid accounts for a mere one percent of total US government spending, a far cry from the 25pc many Americans believe the US allocates.

Many Americans, including some prominent scholars, believe that foreign aid has a negligible impact, with some, such as Dambisa Moyo and William Easterly, arguing that it does more harm than good. Critics highlight examples of misguided aid programs falling prey to mismanagement, government overreach, or corruption, including Vietnam in the 1960s, Zaire in the 1980s, and Afghanistan in the 2000s. While some economists, such as Paul Collier, insist that foreign aid is useful, especially when certain conditions are met, the dominant message seems to be that foreign aid is suspect.

But now foreign aid is gone, or at least going fast. Soon after Donald Trump returned to the White House, his administration, and, in particular, his unelected billionaire crony Elon Musk, began frantically dismantling the US Agency for International Development (USAID). Almost immediately, reports began flooding in. What was being defunded were often life-saving and high-return projects.

Since George W. Bush launched the President’s Emergency Plan for AIDS Relief (PEPFAR) in 2003, the program has saved millions of lives from HIV and AIDS, especially in Africa. The President’s Malaria Initiative has prevented two billion cases of malaria over the last 20 years, and halved the mortality rate.

Gavi, the Vaccine Alliance, which receives US government support, has vaccinated more than a billion children against measles, diphtheria, tetanus, whooping cough, and other potentially fatal diseases, preventing an estimated 19 million deaths. Polio has been eliminated in all but two countries, and smallpox has been eliminated everywhere. These efforts have contributed to a steep decline in child mortality globally. Today, four percent of children die before their fifth birthday, compared to 40pc a century ago.

Foreign aid also enabled the development and diffusion of improved crop varieties, as well as synthetic fertilizers, new pesticides, and modern irrigation, in the second half of the 20th Century. This Green Revolution in agriculture doubled cereal crop yields in Asia; enabled many countries, such as India, to become self-sufficient in food; and raised incomes in many developing economies. This contributed to a reduction in infant mortality by two to five percentage points, from a baseline of 18pc, in the developing world.

The US Marshall Plan achieved spectacular success in helping European economies recover from World War II, and in laying the groundwork for 80 years of relative global peace and prosperity. More recently, foreign aid has played a key role in enabling Ukraine to withstand the worst attack on a European country’s sovereign territory in the postwar era.

The US reaps massive benefits from the aid it provides. One need only recall the COVID-19 pandemic to see that participation in global health initiatives is not pure charity, especially when it comes to infectious diseases like Ebola, HIV/AIDS, and Tuberculosis.

More fundamentally, international assistance, including for causes like disaster relief and support for human rights and democracy, has been a pillar of US soft power. That soft power has been at least as important as military might, which costs far more to maintain, in sustaining US global leadership since the Cold War. But now, the Trump Administration is assiduously undermining it, to China’s benefit, no doubt.

The effect of foreign aid on economic growth is difficult to quantify, because so many other causal factors are involved. Much of US aid is designed to advance political or military objectives. The top recipients of US foreign aid, after Ukraine, are Israel, Jordan, and Egypt.

Nonetheless, we know that reduced morbidity and mortality and improved nutrition can boost an economy’s performance. It thus stands to reason that foreign aid is a contributor to development, even if not the most important one. The US undoubtedly benefits from having more developed, higher-performing trading and commercial partners.

Why, then, has the pessimistic view of foreign aid dominated public discourse for so long?

One explanation is that the pessimistic view of everything, especially what governments do, has prevailed for years. A 2018 survey showed that a substantial majority of people in rich countries believed that the child-mortality rate in poor countries had either risen or stayed the same over the previous 20 years; in fact, child mortality had been halved. And a whopping 80pc of people in rich countries believed that the share of people in extreme poverty had either plateaued or risen, even though it fell steeply from 1990 to 2013.

If people are so wrong about these trends, how can they possibly know about foreign aid’s role in driving them?

Of course, foreign aid has its flaws and limitations, including instances of inefficiency, mismanagement, or unintended side effects. But, whatever the limitations of foreign aid in the past, it is clear that Trump’s destructive approach is making things far worse.

Rural Health Workers Battle Burnout, Bureaucracy, a System Under Strain

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Health specialists cluster around teaching hospitals in Addis Abeba and a handful of regional hubs, leaving remote and pastoralist communities dependent on overstretched health-extension workers or, often, no one at all. It is not uncommon to see parts of the Afar and Somali regional states endure months without an anaesthetist.

Rural clinics routinely lack necessities such as gauze, antibiotics, and reliable power, undermining patient trust and staff morale. Expectant mothers often travel for hours to receive routine scans, exposing severe gaps in rural healthcare.

The imbalance drives a continuous migration toward urban centres and an exodus to better-paying opportunities overseas. Resource scarcity compounds the issue, with workforce attrition further thinning the ranks. Thousands of physicians trained in Ethiopia now practice abroad. Meanwhile, younger clinicians frequently leave remote assignments for the capital, citing burnout, bureaucratic inefficiencies, and slow-moving supply chains. Purchase orders vanish into paperwork, hardship bonuses often arrive late, and essential training fills before rural staff can enrol.

Five interrelated challenges sustain this healthcare crisis.

Specialists are disproportionately based in urban centres, causing severe shortages elsewhere, especially in specialist surgery. Chronic resource shortages plague rural health facilities, leaving them deficient in essential equipment, medicines, and infrastructure. Ethiopia faces a brain drain, both domestic — from rural to urban — and cross-border, further eroding an already fragile healthcare workforce. Bureaucratic bottlenecks and weak supply networks frustrate clinicians, even the most dedicated.

Lastly, harsh working conditions lead to burnout and demotivation among rural healthcare professionals, restricting their development opportunities.

Ethiopia’s situation closely mirrors Thailand’s healthcare struggle of the 1970s. Thai physicians faced a similar choice between urban opportunities and rural necessity. In response, idealistic medical graduates founded the Rural Doctors Movement (RDM), calling their campaign “Doing the Impossible.” They meticulously documented infant mortality and drug shortages, using this data to lobby Bangkok for reform.

By framing healthcare as a fundamental right, they transformed rural postings into respected assignments and pathways to leadership.

Inspired by this, a new generation of Ethiopian medical students emphasises health equity, studying Thai memoirs alongside epidemiology textbooks. They recognise the need for a unified mission, followed by strong advocacy. Teams have started developing dashboards tracking drug shortages, vacancy rates, and emergency referral travel times, hoping to convince federal health officials to protect rural incentives and make job postings more transparent.

Already, informal peer networks are forming.

For instance, surgeons in the Bale zone in Oromia Regional State connect with residents in Mekelle through WhatsApp, while anaesthetists in Dire Dawa mentor interns in improvising recovery rooms. These conversations offer clinical guidance and crucial emotional support, especially when the nearest specialist might be hundreds of kilometres away. Collective voices backed by hard data carry greater influence, making it harder for authorities to overlook.

Innovation could also play a crucial role. Health-extension workers, predominantly women trained for a year, have already improved immunisation and family-planning services. Building on these successes, doctors propose smartphone-based triage tools, remote ultrasound consultations, and community-managed transport funds for emergency obstetric cases. Addis Abeba University debates offering credit equivalent to a semester of residency for a year served in a rural district, incentivising rather than penalising rural postings.

Experienced neurologists volunteer in the Bench-Sheko region, jointly logging cases with local nurses for academic publications. Paediatricians spend vacation time in rural areas training interns in neonatal resuscitation techniques. Their underlying belief echoes Thailand’s experience in providing equitable healthcare as a professional responsibility, countering the allure of urban hospital positions.

Healthcare workers also address broader social determinants of health. A midwife in Oromia Regional State tracks malnutrition alongside maternity care, and a pharmacist in Amhara Regional State promotes kitchen gardens for nutritional diversity. They emphasise that clean water, nutrition, and education can prevent more illness than any single medical intervention.

Those in charge of policy at the federal government are at a critical juncture, facing a choice between dismissing frontline grievances or treating them as actionable insights. Dialogue marks the initial step toward meaningful reform. Thai veterans recall that progress began with structured discussions between doctors and the health officials. Ethiopian medical associations seek similar forums to untangle supply-chain complexities and streamline staffing rules, using frontline data as invaluable guidance for resource allocation.

Professionals have outlined a clear roadmap comprising six essential steps.

First is creating an ongoing dialogue between health workers and the government while formally recognising frontline clinicians as expert advisers. Decisively investing in the healthcare workforce and jointly developing practical solutions are crucial to ensure accountability at every bureaucratic level. Most importantly, supporting innovative ideas emerging from field experiences is indispensable. Individually modest, these steps together could shift Ethiopia from emergency responses toward sustainable healthcare improvements.

Thai veterans caution against disunity within the healthcare profession. Once internal divisions over privileges emerge, the moral authority weakens immensely. Challenges such as entrenched bureaucratic interests, budgetary limitations, and international salary attractions remain substantial. Yet, health sector reformers persist, repeating a familiar rallying cry that “Impossible only means not yet tried.”

The urgency should be unmistakable. The health extension program, launched two decades ago, demonstrates the country’s capability to mobilise effectively when policy serves professional dedication. Despite past successes, disparities remain, particularly reflected in urban-rural maternal mortality rates, exacerbated by the rapid attrition of skilled personnel. Without timely intervention, the promise of universal health coverage risks slipping away.

The COVID-19 pandemic exposed vulnerabilities in the healthcare supply chains, while rising inflation and internal conflicts have strained financial resources, pressuring policymakers toward more cost-effective responses. Strengthening rural healthcare capacity could reduce costly patient transfers and maintain rural productivity. International donors, increasingly reluctant to fund repetitive training cycles, are more likely to support reforms promoting workforce retention in underserved areas.

Some health ministry officials advocate for cooperation rather than conflict, recognising that frontline insights identify practical gaps. Their task is to incorporate these frontline experiences into policymaking processes before accumulated frustrations push more workers away.

Equitable healthcare depends on the courage of frontline clinicians matched by responsive governance. Healthcare workers seek partnership rather than charity. If government officials embrace this partnership, history may record this era not for wage disputes, but as a crucial moment to “do the impossible” on its own terms. Only then will rural patients regularly see dedicated medical professionals, and young graduates will view rural service as an essential career step, driven by the conviction that medicine is most impactful where it is most needed.

Gates Fortune Looms Large as Promise, Forging Strategic Partnerships

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Bill Gates’ pledge to donate nearly all his wealth by 2045 to his established foundation is exceptional in modern philanthropy. Already, the Foundation spends billions of dollars annually, steering global conversations on health, vaccines, agriculture, and digital finance.

Such a vast new influx of resources promises an even deeper impact, particularly in countries like Ethiopia, which have been key partners for two decades. They have demonstrated that each dollar goes far. Ethiopia presents an urgent need and an immense opportunity, a potential global case study for successful development despite adversity.

Since its creation, the Gates Foundation has dedicated billions toward addressing global problems, from child mortality and chronic hunger to gender inequality and digital exclusion. Gates’ new pledge, paired with political determination, could fundamentally reshape Ethiopia’s development aspiration. Home to over 100 million people, it faces major issues from high unemployment among its young population and disease to recurring droughts and entrenched poverty.

These factors align closely with the Foundation’s mission to ensure everyone leads a healthy and productive life.

Ethiopia already offers evidence of what well-targeted investments can achieve. The country surpassed the Millennium Development Goal (MDGs) for reducing child mortality, proving the effectiveness of strategic and focused efforts.

However, other flagship initiatives have encountered difficulties. The health extension program, initially celebrated for low-cost community healthcare, has in recent years shown signs of stagnation due to its lack of dynamism in adapting to internal and external environmental changes. Without significant innovative advancements in the next five years, current health sector transformation strategies and the flagship health extension program are unlikely to achieve Universal Health Coverage by 2030. A lack of climate-resilient seeds and inadequate local research continue to limit farm productivity in agriculture. A national digital-development plan has not yet inspired grassroots innovation or scalable solutions.

I have witnessed firsthand the tension between ambition and reality in development. While working at the Ministry of Health (MoH), I observed the Foundation’s respectful yet rigorous approach. Its staff co-designed ideas with local officials rather than dictating terms. However, short funding cycles and high leadership turnover  often slowed sustained success.

Later, as a fellow in the Foundation-supported International Program in Public Health Leadership at the University of Washington, I visited the Foundation’s headquarters in Seattle. The environment was bold yet intensely data-driven, focused on experimentation and modelling , and quickly translating pilot projects into widely shared and spread solutions. One program officer broke down the Foundation’s guiding principle. Preventing newborn hypothermia doesn’t always require expensive incubators. Sometimes, skin-to-skin contact is the most effective intervention.

Simple, cost-effective, and locally appropriate solutions consistently outperform imported technologies. Ethiopia should internalize this lesson.

The Foundation’s investments are strategically placed in areas often overlooked by larger global funds. Rather than duplicating efforts by entities like Gavi or the Global Fund, which are co-funded by the foundation, it identifies neglected opportunities where solid evidence, effective partnerships, and sustainable business models can transform outcomes. Simple, cost-effective, and locally appropriate solutions consistently outperform sophisticated technologies. This data-driven, solutions-oriented mindset reflects the Foundation’s desire for deep, long-term partnerships; it looks for committed collaborators willing to jointly design, meticulously test, and then scale interventions, moving beyond a simple recipient dynamic to one of shared ownership and mutual accountability. Moreover, the Gates Foundation’s engagement serves a crucial catalytic function, extending its impact far beyond its direct innovation partnerships. It plays a pivotal role in mobilizing additional resources, notably through its significant co-financing contributions to vital global health initiatives such as GAVI and the Global Fund, as well as supporting newer mechanisms like the ‘beginnings fund’.

Examples from other countries show what can be accomplished.

Bosede Afolabi (PhD) combines frontline obstetrics with clinical research to lower maternal deaths in Nigeria. Radhika Batra’s (PhD) initiative, “Every Infant Matters,” provides vital but straightforward services to address early newborn deaths in India which is currently scaled globally. In Malawi, Lameck Chimango, an engineer, has successfully adapted neonatal equipment to warm babies in rural hospitals, demonstrating innovation with marginal resources.

These individuals are deeply embedded within their communities and not parachuted in as external consultants.

Ethiopia has the potential to develop similar innovators, but clarity and focus are essential. Broad national strategies often fall short as successful change typically emerges from specific individuals addressing clearly defined issues in particular communities. Each initiative should directly answer a fundamental question.

How does this effort reduce health and development burdens in a meaningful way?

Grim statistics press for urgency. Each year, over 8,000 mothers and more than 100,000 newborns die. One-third of Ethiopian children experience stunted growth, and one in 10 suffers from severe malnutrition. Alarmingly, nearly 90pc of 10-year-olds cannot read simple text or perform basic arithmetic, keeping the Human Development Index around 0.5, jeopardising the country’s future workforce.

Addressing these issues requires domestic experimentation anchored by clear and measurable goals.

In education, digital tools and artificial intelligence (AI) can assist teachers in identifying learning gaps, but only if officials require evidence that such technologies genuinely enhance student performance. Farmers-led experiments, resilient seed varieties, and climate-smart methods should supersede traditional subsidy approaches. For digital inclusion, policymakers should prioritise frequent piloting, openly published results, and scaling only solutions proven effective.

The Gates Foundation already invests a substantial amount in Ethiopia, expanding vaccine coverage, strengthening primary healthcare, improving cereal production, and exploring mobile money. However, the future of these efforts depends less on additional funding and more on demonstrable results. Its leaders should convincingly show that resources translate directly into meaningful outcomes, or, as an internal memo describes it, “lives saved, suffering prevented, futures transformed.”

This will require quicker feedback loops, transparent monitoring, and political commitment so that successful pilot projects endure leadership changes. Three practices could accelerate this progress.

Solutions can be designed collaboratively with communities, who typically identify and overcome barriers faster than external teams. The authorities should strive to adopt the Gates Foundation’s emphasis on real-time and accessible data tied explicitly to decision-making processes. Dashboards need to clearly indicate whether initiatives like drought-tolerant crops or text-message reminders to pregnant mothers yield measurable results.

Protecting continuity is crucial as frequent political reshuffles often erase institutional memory. Long-term commitments, managed by research institutions and networks , can ensure programs withstand political and financial volatility.

Without these deliberate steps, Ethiopia risks stagnation. The country’s economy is fragile, international investment is limited, and donor enthusiasm is waning. Yet, a focused alliance with the Gates Foundation, noted for its rigorous and data-driven methods, provides it a unique opportunity. The Foundation expects Ethiopia not merely to accept funding but to implement essential reforms, swiftly test new ideas, and transparently publish outcomes, whether successes or failures.

Ethiopia can either set an example, demonstrating that disciplined and evidence-based innovation can thrive even in difficult conditions, or risk being surpassed by more agile countries. The moment for decisive action is now, and its leaders should boldly seize this rare opportunity.

Healing the Healers

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Reliable information about the recent strike by health professionals in Ethiopia has proven elusive. The public discourse is muddied by sensationalism, bias, and deafening silences. Online, a stream of videos shows deserted hospitals, while an increasing number of doctors speak out, visibly exhausted and disappointed. Their frustration is palpable. Few professions demand as much as medicine; years of grueling education followed by daily confrontation with suffering and death. The burdens of the profession are carried quietly and, often, without thanks.

Yet, the conversation rarely moves toward meaningful solutions. A salary increment should not be a radical proposition. At the very least, targeted interventions such as subsidised housing, food allowances, or transportation support could ease the immense strain faced by health workers. These ideas are neither utopian nor extravagant; they are simple acknowledgments of the value of labor that saves lives.

The issue, however, stretches far beyond doctors. Across the country, highly educated professionals, from engineers to academics, find themselves earning less than a single appearance in a television advertisement. Drivers or janitors employed by NGOs or embassies often make more than licensed practitioners. There is nothing inherently unjust about blue-collar workers earning a dignified wage. The injustice lies in a system that undervalues intellectual labor while fetishizing spectacle.

If this pattern persists, society risks intellectual stagnation. Young people will flock to TikTok and live-streaming games, chasing thousands of dollars for silly stunts, rather than dedicating a decade to their studies only to struggle with rent. The consequences of such a shift will be deeply corrosive.

But there is another path. Imagine Ethiopia investing heavily in its healthcare system, offering its doctors world-class training and compensation that reflects their expertise. International hospitals could become hubs for regional medical tourism, attracting patients from across the continent. It is not far-fetched.

If the country can dream of robots in every household in ten years, then it is easy to envision Ethiopia as a country teeming with highly educated health professionals, specialists, and surgeons who earn in dollars simply for their consultations? Ethiopia possess the potential, and it must be cultivated.

Disturbingly, there are murmurs of foreign doctors being brought in to fill gaps left by striking professionals. The cost of such a policy, flights, accommodation, translators could rival the investment needed to pay local doctors fairly. Worse still, the language barriers pose a real threat to patient safety. There are translators who are not even proficient in the languages they claim to be experts in. Misinterpretation in a clinical setting can be fatal.

And even without linguistic hurdles, Ethiopia’s health sector is no stranger to human error; misdiagnoses, surgical accidents, and equipment left inside patients have all made headlines. One such story prompted an angry email from a doctor who accused me of disrespect. Yet that story was rooted in a devastating personal experience: a botched surgery that left a family member with a permanently damaged hand. The point was never to vilify doctors, but to spotlight a system stretched to its breaking point.

Depoliticizing this moment is crucial. The conversation must return to core concerns: dignity, fairness, and public health. A blanket condemnation of the strike, or punitive crackdowns on professionals, will solve nothing. That only deepens resentment. And while abandoning patients in protest is ethically fraught, so too is ignoring the root causes that drive professionals to such extremes.

There must be space for negotiation. Constructive dialogue, between the government, professional associations, and civil society, is the only viable path forward. This should not be a power struggle; the ball is already in the government’s court. A government, much like a parent, should scold citizens when they err, yet simultaneously extend a protective arm.

Politics is rarely straightforward. But some truths are simple. When those entrusted with saving lives feel unseen, unheard, and unvalued, the entire country suffers. Addressing that reality with empathy and clarity might be the first step toward real healing.

The Subtler African Stories Lodged in Luxury

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Every family has its ritual, one that bookmarks the year and brings everyone back to center. For ours, it’s the quiet, recurring pilgrimage to Kuriftu Resorts. Whether nestled in Bishoftu’s lakeside calm or perched in the cool canopy of Entoto, these retreats have offered more than just luxury. They have given us rhythm. Familiarity. That reluctant sigh that comes with checkout.

But this visit was different.

Kuriftu did not just offer rest this time. It gave us something layered, an experience stitched with identity, memory, and the quiet assertion of African complexity.

We were hosting family from the US for their semi-annual visit, and our gathering led us to the Africa Village Kuriftu Resort & Spa in Burayu. Just outside Addis Ababa and set atop a serene hill, the resort offers a sweeping view of the capital’s vast sprawl. It does not immediately declare itself as “Africa in miniature,” but it lives the idea with quiet intent.

Each of the 54 villas is themed after an African country. The architecture, artwork, furnishings, even the books and color palettes, work in concert to evoke the cultural essence of a nation. It is the kind of curation you would expect from a museum, not a resort. But here, it is interwoven with the polish of leisure and luxury.

Our family occupied four villas: Ethiopia, Egypt, Guinea, and Eritrea. My husband, daughter, and I stayed in the Eritrean villa. What began as a place to sleep became a space that breathed memory. The photographs, artifacts, and books summoned stories I had heard as a child, fragments of my father’s voice made tangible.

Unlike the other villas, the Eritrean one held books, actual reading material that gently walked us through the country’s history, culture, and psyche. That touch transformed the space. Eritrea was no longer just a country to me that weekend. It was a scent. A texture. A chair beside a window. It was the incense drifting through the air. A tactile archive. A lived intimacy.

That is a rare gift: to encounter a nation not as a news headline, but as a room.

From the balcony, Addis Ababa stretched out like a blinking constellation. The city’s noise faded. Silence settled in. Our daughter, normally a restless sleeper, found stillness in the crib provided. We walked with her the next morning, just the three of us, along the high, quiet paths above the city. It was one of those moments you want to fold and keep in your pocket forever.

Still, not everything was seamless. The villas are expansive, beautifully designed, with massive windows to take in the view. But from our balcony, we could see directly into the bathrooms of the villa opposite us. A privacy oversight, and not a minor one. The same issue appeared in our relatives’ villas. For a resort of this caliber, such design flaws should not be brushed aside.

That said, Kuriftu gets many things right. The setting is breathtaking. The stillness is profound. The staff, as always, attentive. And the concept, Africa as a village of nations, is bold. But boldness comes with responsibility.

Too often, Africa is flattened into easy visuals: drums, woven baskets, bright fabrics. While these aesthetics have their place, they are not the story. Africa is also language. Philosophy. History. Literature. Complexity. When committing to honoring the continent room by room, it must go beyond what is ornamental.

Imagine opening a drawer in the Ghanaian villa and finding Kwame Nkrumah’s Africa Must Unite. Or standing in the Senegalese villa, reading the verses of Léopold Senghor. What if the Ethiopian villa included a primer on Ge’ez, its ancient script, and numerals, untouched by colonizers? That is not just decoration. That is education.

Kuriftu is already halfway there. The vision is admirable. But to honor the spirit of Pan-Africanism, the resort must push further: deeper historical resonance, fuller cultural engagement across all villas.

Africa is too often exoticized, presented as distant, colorful, and simple. But here, just above Addis, someone dared to sketch something richer. A place that speaks not only to where we are, but who we are. And maybe, with more care, who we are becoming.

Africa Village does not lump the continent into a single, stylized trope. It insists on the dignity of distinction, each nation rendered with intent. That is rare. And for many of us, personal.

At 180 dollars a night, the experience largely justifies the cost. The villas feel royal. The food, while delicious, came in portions too modest for the price. The Wi-Fi was out during our stay. But these practical glitches were softened by complimentary snacks, juices, and the warmth of the staff.

Still, what stayed with us was not the meal or the décor. It was the conversation. Africa Village got us talking. About history. Identity. Absence. Belonging. It stirred something deeper than rest, it stirred curiosity. And in the end, isn’t that what the best kind of travel does?

“Some doctors are delusional.”

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Dereje Duguma (MD), state minister for Health, told state broadcaster EBC that many doctors who joined last week’s walkout misunderstood its purpose. He pressed them to resume work, warning that prolonged absence could cost them their job and medical permits.

Amendment Expands Access for Foreign Traders

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Foreign participation in Ethiopia’s wholesale, retail, import, and export trade sectors has come under renewed focus as the Ethiopian Investment Board(EIB) approved a significant amendment to Directive No. 1001/2016  in its meeting on May 23, 2025.

The amendment, proposed by the Ethiopian Investment Commission(EIC), focuses on refining the legal framework governing foreign investment in these sectors. The decision is part of a broader strategy to enhance the country’s appeal as an investment destination while ensuring a fair and competitive business environment.

According to the revised directive, except for the wholesale of fertilizers, any foreign investor may now engage in wholesale trade across all sectors previously reserved for domestic investors under the Regulation. Also, a foreign investor granted an investment permit under this provision may participate in the wholesale trade of goods they have imported using an import trade permit, or goods acquired from domestic manufacturers.

Yet, prior to obtaining an investment permit, and without prejudice to existing legal requirements regarding minimum capital, competence, or other standards, as well as laws already allowing foreign involvement in wholesale trade, prospective investors must provide written consent to enter into an agreement with the appropriate government body; and they must also contractually commit to developing modern marketing infrastructure and delivering streamlined logistics services that support their wholesale operations.

By recalibrating the rules on foreign involvement in trade, the directive seeks to strike a balance between opening market opportunities and safeguarding the interests of domestic stakeholders. The Board emphasised that the amendment will help create a level playing field, fostering healthy competition and sustainable economic growth.

NBE Sets Four Percent Ceiling on Foreign Exchange Fees

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The National Bank of Ethiopia (NBE) issued a new foreign exchange market directive on May 20, 2025, that caps commercial banks’ forex service fees at a maximum of four percent.

Banks are instructed to adapt competitive, transparent, and streamlined pricing for all forex-related services. Effective May 26, 2025, total charges for purchasing foreign exchange whether for imports, service payments, or cash note purchases must not exceed the newly set limit.

The directive also prohibits banks from imposing extra charges for minor or ancillary services. This is intended to simplify and clarify costs for customers.

Starting June this year, all banks will be required to publicly disclose their forex-related fees on the NBE website, ensuring transparency.

The reform package also raises transaction limits. The import advance payment ceiling has increased from 5,000 dollars to 50,000 dollars per transaction. Additionally, the foreign currency cash limit for travelers has been revised. Personal travelers may now purchase up to 10,000 dollars, and business travelers up to 15,000 dollars, either in cash or through debit card access.

Holders of foreign exchange accounts can now use up to 20pc of their balances via debit cards, which is double against the previous 10pc limit.

These reforms are expected to enhance flexibility for importers and travellers. At the same time, they align Ethiopia’s forex pricing practices with global norms.

NBE expressed confidence that these measures will foster a more active, competitive, and transparent foreign exchange market that meets the evolving needs of consumers and the private sector.