PRIVATE EDUCATION COSTS CLIMB FAST

Addis Abeba’s first rains have coincided with a sweeping rise in private school tuition, prompting the city’s education regulators to cap increases between 40pc and 65pc after most schools sought hikes of up to 263pc. Families earning the median urban wage face fees that can now top 6,500 Br a month, further eroded by rent, food inflation, and supply costs. Officials insist caps are necessary to tame “unjustifiable” demands. Yet, parents already juggling credit lines with corner shops fear they may have no choice but to transfer children to public classrooms. The dispute exposes a two-tier system. Of the capital’s 1,227 private schools, only 151 teach at the secondary level, enrolling 79,000 pupils against roughly 145,000 in public equivalents. National exams compound the dilemma. In the past two academic years, more than 95pc of Grade 12 candidates failed to reach the 50pc pass mark, exposing quality gaps that extend from kindergarten to university and prompting a ratings framework that links any future fee rise to exam performance.

Under a three-year scheme, each school is graded from “Centre of Excellence” to “at risk of closure”, determining the room it has to lift prices. Negotiations are meant to begin with parents; stalemates trigger arbitration by the Education & Training Quality Regulation Authority, followed by an appeals committee. In practice, parents have mediated down a 45pc rise to over 30pc, yet many fear fresh shocks before year-end as inflation remains in double digits. Private schools argue that the costs exceed the cap. Property owners typically demand 17pc to 20pc annual rent increases, forcing some schools to pay well over a million Birr a month for leased compounds. Chalk, paper and cleaning chemicals have doubled, and principals report funding “annual raises to keep teachers from leaving mid-term”.

Strains are visible in the public sector. Tuition fatigue led to 98,000 pupils entering state schools last year alone, prompting the city to invest 1.9 billion Br in high-storey blocks, as well as new ICT labs and cafeterias. Nationwide, the Education Ministry says 85pc of schools are below standard; its “Education for the Generation” drive has raised 135 billion Br over two years, building 6,815 schools and refurbishing tens of thousands more, yet capacity still trails demand. Experts warn that fee caps without parallel support risk throttling a sector that serves nearly half the capital’s pupils. Several argue that granting schools land leases or low-interest construction loans would cut overheads and tame future price spikes. Without them, closures could widen class sizes, erode quality and undermine public confidence in a system already stretched by surging enrollment and chronic underfunding.

As School Fees Soar in Addis, Families Choose Between Education, Survival

Late June in Addis Abeba brings its first curtain of rain, a grey veil that slows the minibuses and muffles the usual din of the capital. It is the season when schools close, children tumble into the streets, and families cheer another grade completed.
For Mihiret Yohannes, a mother of three renting a two-room house in the Saris neighbourhood, the rain feels less like a lull and more like a warning bell. Her eldest two, now 17 and 18, make the daily trek to Maria Rubatto School on Bekelech Street (near what is popularly known as Chechenia) in Bole District. The youngest is still in nappies and needs formula, costs which already strains the household budget.
The family survives on a monthly income of 25,000 Br; rent alone claims 10,000 Br. Groceries, transport and baby supplies stretch the pay packet to its limit, while credit from the corner shop fills the gaps. The increase confronting Mihiret is only the sharp edge of a wider problem.
When she joined the parents’ meeting on June 21 and learned that monthly fees would leap from 3,300 Br, on top of a 400 Br tutorial payment, to 6,560 Br, a 65pc jump, she could only stare at the classroom walls.
“It has already been hard to keep up with the economy,” she said afterwards. “My only choice now is to change public schools.”
Contemplating this option would lead her to enrol her children in one of the 85 secondary-level public schools that cater to about 145,000 students. In contrast, Maria Rubatto is one of the 151 private secondary schools that enrol about 79,000 students.
Across Addis Abeba, 1,227 private schools have been told that tuition rises should be between 40pc and 65pc. The city’s Education & Training Quality Regulation Authority (ETQRA) introduced the ceiling after, according to Deputy Head Tagayitu Ababu, more than 90pc of schools requested jumps of 100pc to 263pc, figures she called “unjustifiable.” The Authority’s review panel rates each school every two years, weighing its resources, management and, crucially, performance.
Judged by the results of national exams, student performance has been all but pleasing. In the two academic years beginning in 2022, over 95pc of grade 12 students who took national exams failed to score the minimum passing grade of 50pc, exposing severe deficiencies extending to higher education institutions. Those active in the education sector helplessly observed colleges and universities producing graduates who lack essential literacy and numeracy skills.
Education authorities in the city have placed a three-year framework that ties the cap to scores. Level Four learning institutions, tagged as “Centres of Excellence”, may increase fees the most; Level One schools, judged to be on the brink of closure, are held to the smallest gains. Parents and boards are meant to negotiate first; if they cannot agree, the Authority steps in, and a grievance committee hears any final appeal.
Tegegn Work, father of two, has already tested the mechanism. His children’s school wanted a 45pc rise. Parents had bargained it down to 32pc but were warned that another request could come before the year’s end. One child’s preschool bill of 1,882 Br would climb to about 2,485 Br. The second-grader’s 2,070 Br fee would shift to roughly 2,732 Br.
“We’re all struggling,” Tegegn said. “Us with income, schools with rent.”
The rent, school heads say, is merciless.
Falcon Academy, which operates four branches, employs 300 staff and educates 3,000 pupils, paying half a million Birr monthly for mostly leased compounds, subject to 17pc annual increases every two years. Its Principal, Yazachew Kelkile, remembered applying in 2023 for a 120pc rise, but 100pc was approved. Because increases are authorised every other year, the Academy’s bid for 2025 was rejected.
Prices of chalk, paper, and cleaning chemicals have surged, while salaries have edged up, and Falcon has frozen fees for three straight years.
Yazachew argued that giving schools land would slash costs.
“There should be a regulation that ensures teachers stay for at least a semester,” he added, blaming high staff turnover as a hidden drain. “We give annual raises to retain teachers.”
For now, Falcon bills 2,200 Br for preschool, 2,160 Br for grades one to four, and 2,755 Br for Grade 12. This year’s proposal ranged from 45pc to 60pc. Parents rejected the top end.
Across town, owners and managers of the New Flower Academy, founded 28 years ago, fear closure. Their 1,600 students and 130 staff members occupy three rented sites, which are billed at 1.2 million Br per month. Rent rose 20pc this year, and paper prices have more than doubled.
“Our costs have skyrocketed,” said Hirut Assefa, executive principal. “We’re afraid that we’ll have to shut down.”
Hirut has trimmed discretionary spending, postponed maintenance, and pleaded with property owners, yet the balance sheet still does not balance.
The core of the issue remains to match educational quality with affordability. For Mihiret and thousands of parents like her, the meeting with her children’s school ended not with a resolution, but with resignation. The future of her children’s education remains uncertain. As she prepares for yet another day worrying about budgeting, the promise of quality education seems to drift ever farther out of reach.
“We just want what is best for our children,” she said in a low voice. “But the cost is becoming too much to bear.”
Leta Sera, associate professor of economics at Jimma University, says ideology should bend to affordability. Fee controls squeeze school finances, he admitted, but subsidies or rent relief could soften the blow. He argued that the goal should be to strike a balance between affordability and quality.
“The government can’t simply regulate prices and hope for the best,” he told Fortune. “It needs to support both public and private schools, or the system risks failing everyone.”
He notes that many parents already stretch every Birr to pay fees, proof of a strong demand for perceived quality. If those doors shut, the public system should absorb not only numbers but rising expectations. One suggestion is for the state to underwrite low-interest loans, allowing private school owners to build instead of rent, thereby smoothing future fee curves.
However, some question whether any ceiling is fair. Others, such as Samuel Woldekidan, deputy managing director of the School of Tomorrow, questioned the Authority’s action as an affront to the free market.
“Fee negotiations should occur between schools and parents, not dictated by the authorities,” he told Fortune.
The chain owns five branches and leases six; rental fees have ballooned to 10 million Br a year.
“The fee ceiling does not reflect inflation,” Samuel argued.
He fears a wave of closures, pushing another generation into already crowded public classrooms.
Private schools have expanded impressively over the past two decades, particularly in Addis Abeba. The city has 585,000 students, 46pc of its student population, attending in 74pc of all schools in the city. Kindergartens alone number 935, accounting for 57pc of private schools. Although numerous in Addis Abeba, private schools represent only about five percent of the 40,000 educational institutions across the country, serving a relatively small fraction of the total student population.
Observers warn that the ratio will widen if inflation continues to erode pay packets and if property owners maintain their unbroken run of rent increases.
However, families of students attending private schools are caught in the middle, seeing no easy answer. Near the Alem Bank neighbourhood, in the western outskirts of the city, homemaker Tsehay Lemma pays 2,050 Br monthly for her preschooler and first-grader at Tewlid Primary School. Tsehay’s husband drives a taxi; fuel costs and rainy-season traffic mean income fluctuates. New uniforms feel like a luxury, let alone higher fees.
And, the School seeks a 45pc rise; parents like her are lobbying for 10pc lower.
“It’s getting too expensive,” she said. “My only option is public school.”
There are at least 235 public primary schools that educate around 384,000 students, while 554 private primary schools teach approximately 312,000 students.
Many parents are already voting with their feet. Public schools in Addis Abeba took in 98,000 new pupils last year as private tuition drifted out of reach. Mayor Adanech Abebie’s Administration has scrambled to keep pace, adding 48 four-story blocks inside existing compounds, building 27 G+2 and 13 G+3 structures, and opening seven preschools, 12 primary and four secondary schools. Artificial football fields, cafeterias, and modern sanitation facilities are being installed, while ICT labs and libraries are also promised.
Wonidmu Hussen, deputy head of the Addis Abeba Education Bureau, disclosed that over 1.9 billion Br has been allocated for expansion.
Nationally, the challenge is even larger still. The Ministry of Education has judged that 85pc of schools across the country are below standard. Its “Education for the Generation” campaign raised 81 billion Br in its first year and 54 billion Br in the second, building 6,815 new schools and upgrading tens of thousands more.
When the new academic year begins in September, parents like Mihiret will probably enrol their children in one of these public campuses. Administrators, officials and academics may yet devise a model that keeps private education afloat. For the moment, Addis Abeba’s classrooms mirror the city’s rainy streets: clouded, congested and waiting for the storm to clear.

Central Bank Claims Monetary Policy Overhaul as Forex Reforms Take Root

Central Bank Governor Mamo Mihretu claimed a bold reconfiguration of monetary policy and foreign exchange management, marking a break from years of fiscal dominance, closed financial architecture, and constrained market signalling. He told federal legislators last week that the reforms reflect a systemic recalibration that anchors macroeconomic stability, enhances foreign exchange liquidity, and restores credibility to the central banking regime.

Over the first three quarters of the fiscal year, the National Bank of Ethiopia (NBE) absorbed 377.9 billion Br through 19 liquidity auctions, while the interbank market recorded 482.3 billion Br in transactions at an average interest rate of 16.8pc. Commercial banks absorbed 66.8 billion Br in treasury bonds, pushing total outstanding holdings to 161.3 billion Br, stressing the persistence of captive financing in the domestic debt market.

Governor Mamo recalled a policy rate hike to 15pc and a lending rate to 18pc, moves that not only signalled tightening to contain inflation but also heralded the end of direct monetisation of fiscal deficits. According to the Governor, the structural decoupling of central bank lending to the federal government is seen as a foundation in the central bank’s transition toward greater autonomy and inflation-targeting credibility.

Perhaps most striking was the tripling of foreign exchange reserves to cover 2.7 months of imports, a 235pc surge from the previous year, backed by strong external sector performance. The Governor projected a 2.6 billion dollar surplus in the overall balance of payments for 2024/25. Export revenues doubled to 5.3 billion dollars in Q3 alone, aided by solid returns from coffee, gold, electricity, and floriculture, while remittance inflows rose by 22pc to 5.1 billion dollars.

The capital account was buoyed by 3.8 billion dollars in receipts from foreign direct investment (FDI), public sector financing, and private loans. Official development assistance and external borrowing increased by 93pc and 77pc, respectively, partly reflecting renewed international support following policy reforms and debt restructuring agreements under the G20 Common Framework.

To counter mounting pressures from illicit capital outflows and speculative forex hoarding, the Central Bank revised its foreign exchange directive. These included caps on advance import payments, expanded allowances for travellers and businesses, and tighter margins for Forex Bureau commissions, now capped at four percent.

“We’re curbing incentives for capital flight,” asserted Governor Mamo, who rejected concerns over the Bank’s profitability, arguing a 10 billion Br “unrealised loss” was due to currency depreciation, not operational mismanagement. “There is no such thing as loss. The Bank is not a profit-making institution. It pays high interest when absorbing money from the market.”

Despite booking 26 billion Br in profits, the Bank reported a net forex loss of 28.3 billion Br and raised its impairment provisions by five billion Birr, mostly for loans to state-owned enterprises according to the 2024 audit report.

Observers, such as London-based analyst Mekbib Tesfaye, have flagged the need for IFRS-compliant asset valuation and transparent reporting.

“Fair value mechanisms,” he argued, “can restore trust in central bank balance sheets.”

The Governor argued that NBE’s transformation was further reflected in structural reforms such as a revised banking proclamation that allowed foreign bank entry, the first mobile money license awarded to a foreign investor, and key institutions like the Deposit Insurance Fund and pension agencies reported digital and regulatory overhauls.

Yet, Parliament’s Budget & Finance Standing Committee, chaired by Desalegn Wedaje, raised red flags. Members of the committee criticised persistent forex crunch, the widening premium in the parallel market, unattractive deposit rates, liquidity mismatches, and operational inefficiencies in pension funds. MPs also flagged cybersecurity risks, farmers’ exclusion from financial services, and pension fund inefficiencies, including low collection rates and a lack of investment planning, as critical bottlenecks.

Vice Governor Solomon Desta reiterated the NBE’s commitment to inclusive finance, citing the rollout of warehouse financing and green card services in northern regions. He disclosed that a Rural Financial Inclusion Council is also being formed.

Inflation, persistent at 14.4pc in May, with non-food prices climbing 17.8pc, fueled legislators’ scepticism about Governor Mamo’s bullish forecast of a decline to a single digit next year.

Economist Girum Ameha, while lauding reserve gains, warned that 2.7 months’ coverage still falls short of the three-month prudential benchmark. He urged diversification beyond gold and coffee exports.

While the Bank’s position may reflect a conservative approach, it exposes a structural shortcoming. Equity investments in international financial markets offer not only diversification but also a hedge against currency depreciation. Targeted allocations in low-risk, liquid foreign assets could strengthen the Bank’s portfolio resilience.

“This is where Ethiopia can take a page from global peers,” Mekbib told Fortune. “Central banks in comparable economies have leveraged equity exposure to bolster policy flexibility and manage reserve adequacy.”

Experts also questioned the sustainability of foreign liabilities, such as Abu Dhabi’s deposits ballooning to 174 billion Br at a rate of four per cent interest. Projections reveal these could swell to 390 billion Br with further Birr depreciation, causing latent fiscal exposure.

Fuel subsidy removals stirred controversy, with veteran banker Ameha Tefera (PhD) labelling the decision “economic sabotage,” despite the government’s push for cost-reflective pricing.

“Our dependence on imports is a huge loss,” he told Fortune. “There’s a huge gap between what we import and export.”

To close this gap and boost official remittance flows, Girum recommended a combination of targeted incentives and reforming the commission structure that banks earn from facilitating remittances.

“Flat caps on commissions don’t work, banks should be rewarded for performance,” he said.

Bureaucratic bottlenecks, he warned, are nudging users toward the informal market. He also weighed in on treasury bond policy, following the National Bank’s directive requiring banks to purchase government securities.

“If bonds are to fill the deficit gap, they must be priced to attract,” Girum argued.

The existing bulk-purchase structure, he said, adds to investor hesitation. Still, with the advent of capital market trading, he remains optimistic.

“Wealthy investors will show up if the returns are worthwhile,” he said.

Ethiopia expects to receive 750 million dollars in budgetary support from the IMF and the World Bank imminently, followed by one billion dollars next year. These inflows are tied to policy reforms, including foreign exchange liberalisation that now allows exporters and service providers to retain half of their foreign exchange earnings.

However, experts say vulnerabilities remain. Inflation control is elusive, the forex premium with the parallel market persists, and the Central Bank’s 430 billion Br in sub-market loans to government agencies presents long-term fiscal risks. While the economy grew by 8.1pc this fiscal year and is projected to reach 8.4pc next year, exceeding the Sub-Saharan African average of 3.6pc, the growth masks underlying fragilities, chief among them, a shallow export base and the residual impact of monetary repression.

What emerges is a Central Bank in mid-transition. Governor Mamo is expected to strike a balance between policy orthodoxy and political economy constraints, capital account reforms and reserve management discipline, as well as monetary tightening and developmental mandates. These experts say that whether these reforms coalesce into a sustainable framework remains an open question. But for the first time in over a decade, the NBE appears to be charting its own course.

Authorities’ Crackdown on Road Safety Risks Testing Transport Sector Fault Lines

The federal government is betting on a sweeping overhaul of the driver licensing regime to reverse a grim road safety trajectory, but its single-minded focus on professional certification has sparked criticism from experts and industry insiders who argue that the strategy overlooks the broader systemic issues plaguing the transport sector.

Set to launch next year, the Ministry of Transport & Logistics’ (MoTL) reform begins with the country’s most consequential drivers, those steering tens of thousands of freight-laden trucks across a fast-expanding, but often crumbling, road network.

Transport officials claim nearly 10,000 drivers will undergo rigorous competency testing and finance their own retraining to earn professional certification. The goal, they say, is to purge unqualified and unethical drivers from the roads, individuals they blame for a staggering 68pc of accidents.

Transport Minister Alemu Sema (PhD) minced no words in laying responsibility for the carnage at the drivers’ feet.

“Unethical behaviour is the root cause,” he declared. “The new system won’t allow uncertified individuals behind the wheel.”

His Ministry has already rolled out pilot training in transport hubs like Dire Dawa and Modjo, with plans to extend to key cross-border corridors with Djibouti.

“The new system won’t allow uncertified individuals behind the wheel,” said KedilMagist Ibrahim, an advisor to the Minister. “The revamped licensing structure directly connects licence issuance with verified occupational competence.”

The sense of urgency is backed by data. Last year, Ethiopia recorded 35,196 road accidents, killing 2,722 people and injuring 4,941 others. That marked an increase of 489 incidents and 474 deaths over the previous year. Even with improved accident reporting, particularly from previously under-monitored regions such as Tigray Regional State, the numbers displayed a deteriorating safety environment.

Yet critics contend that the Ministry’s understanding of the problems is alarmingly reductive.

For heavy truck operators and their representatives, the reforms border on scapegoating. Yirgalem Sefani of the Ethiopian Heavy Truck Employers Association acknowledged the long-standing issue of license fraud but contended the Ministry’s training focus is misplaced.

“It isn’t about tests,” he told Fortune. “It’s about discipline.”

He attributed most accidents to deep-seated issues, such as poor driver motivation, substance abuse, abysmal wages, and insufficient vehicle oversight.

“Many drivers exhibit a lack of fulfilment in their work,” Yirgalem said.

It is a voice partly echoed by Solomon Zewdu, representing the Ethiopian Heavy Truck Drivers Association. He believes technical skill gaps are a red herring. Instead, he called for a systemic rethink that encompasses working conditions, employer accountability, and broader enforcement.

He argued that the real culprits are not drivers but employers. According to Solomon, most drivers already possess adequate technical skills, and attributed the real issues to poor work ethics and insufficient vehicle inspections.

“Drivers are overworked, underpaid, and treated unfairly,” he said, accusing employers of routinely violating labour laws.

Academics, too, are unconvinced. Abiy Aleneh, a transport and education specialist at Kotebe University, described the Ministry’s approach as “overly simplistic and very biased.”

For Abiy, the real drivers of the crisis lie elsewhere. They include poor infrastructure, aging fleets, lax pedestrian safety enforcement, and a deeply flawed vehicle inspection regime.

“The annual checks are riddled with corruption,” he said, calling for an independent body to investigate crash causes and enforce standards.

Indeed, last year’s crash fatality data from Addis Abeba supports this view. Of the 401 deaths in the capital, 86pc were pedestrians. Most incidents occurred on weekends between 6:00pm and 10:00pm, with speeding cited in nearly half of the cases. Experts say that such figures uncovered deeper issues in urban planning, policing, and traffic calming, beyond driver competence alone.

Despite mounting criticisms, federal transport officials remain resolute. Minister Alemu’s report to Parliament last week illustrated a paradox where commendable financial discipline was shadowed by structural inefficiencies.

Budget execution surpassed 90pc across multiple projects, with 1.8 billion Br in expenditures. Freight turnover hit 14.28 million Br, with logistics transactions exceeding 14.4 million Br, evidence, officials say, of improved alignment between fiscal planning and execution.

Yet, beneath the financial sheen lies a tangle of dysfunction. Chronic power outages in rail transport repeatedly disrupted schedules. A plan to relocate the Ministry’s Policy Research Institute was shelved due to procurement red tape. Efforts to eliminate informal checkpoints faltered amid regional noncompliance, exposing a lack of regulatory authority.

A telling episode involved a regional administration allegedly continuing illicit road collections under a different guise, despite the formal removal of physical checkpoints.

Gadaa Bank Debuts on Securities Exchange

Gadaa Bank has listed 1.2 million shares on the Ethiopian Securities Exchange (ESX), becoming the second financial institution to go public after Wegagen Bank.

The listing, done through an “introduction” method that places existing shares on the secondary market without raising new capital, marks a major turning point for the two-year-old bank and the evolving financial sector.

Each share is valued at 1,000 Br, providing over 30,000 shareholders with newfound liquidity and market access, an advantage the Bank’s executives say is a strategic move to enhance shareholder value, financial transparency, and long-term capital mobilisation.

“Our listing on ESX will help us raise capital and ensure greater transparency,” said Eshetu Dheresa, chief customer experience officer at Gadaa Bank. “We see this as a way to build investor trust through mandated financial disclosures.”

Founded in December 2022 with 1.3 billion Br paid-up capital raised from an initial pool of 28,000 shareholders, Gadaa Bank has since expanded its investor base while demonstrating rapid growth. Its total assets have reached around nine billion Birr, backed by a deposit base of seven billion Birr and a loan portfolio exceeding three billion Birr.

The Bank has a rapid financial turnaround after posting a net loss of 84.3 million Br during its first year ending June 2023. It swung into profitability with a 90.2 million Br net gain by June last year, registering a net profit of 247.2 million Br by the end of December 2024.

Gadaa Bank’s President, Wolde Bulto, views the listing not only as a liquidity boost for shareholders but as a channel to extend financial services into underserved markets.

“It broadens our reach and supports our drive to innovate,” Wolde said.

Market observers characterised the listing as a test case for investor appetite in an untested but promising public equities market.

The ESX, officially launched in January 2025, is regulated by the Ethiopian Capital Market Authority (ECMA), which mandates rigorous compliance and disclosure protocols from participants. Gadaa Bank reportedly underwent a five-month approval process to meet the ESX and ECMA’s listing standards.

“Gadaa Bank completed all documentation and passed the regulatory scrutiny,” said Solomon Kitata, senior advisor at ESX.

He acknowledged early-stage challenges, including misinterpretation of listing requirements and a dearth of qualified investment advisors in the country. In response, the ECMA allowed both Gadaa and Wegagen banks to self-prepare their prospectuses, a temporary deviation from international norms where licensed advisors typically handle such tasks.

Despite the celebratory tone, some experts caution against complacency.

Dakito Alemu (PhD), a finance professor at Addis Abeba University, warned that the shift to public ownership may invite governance complications, particularly over majority control.

“There is a serious risk of majority shareholding undermining minority rights,” he said. “The Bank should ensure governance mechanisms are in place to protect all shareholders.”

He also pointed to the financial and legal weight of compliance.

“Transparency isn’t optional, and non-compliance is costly,” said Dakito, echoing concerns about the sustainability of such regulatory burdens for younger institutions.

Nonetheless, the listing is expected to stimulate market participation and provide a benchmark for other financial institutions considering similar steps. According to Eshetu, Gadaa Bank plans to eventually issue new shares to raise capital, though its current focus remains on secondary market activity.

The Bank’s Chairperson, Hassan Hussen (PhD), described the move as a statement of institutional credibility.

“This listing demonstrates our commitment to trust and transparency,” he said. “It enhances our financial profile and positions us for strategic growth.”

The Quiet Roar Beneath the Calm

There is often a sense of awe when encountering someone who appears to have everything under control. Impeccably dressed, composed, and seemingly immune to stress, such individuals exude a calm that feels almost enviable. Yet, beneath that exterior may lie a hidden condition known as highly functional anxiety. It has become increasingly common, slipping by unnoticed precisely because it wears the mask of competence.

Outwardly, life seems polished: achievements line up neatly, calendars are colour-coded, and every detail appears mastered. Inwardly, however, there is a relentless current of unease, a silent but persistent hum of anxiety that never quite fades. This form of anxiety does not paralyse; instead, it propels, driving one to overachieve, overthink, and overprepare. It whispers incessantly, posing endless “what ifs” that rarely rest.

A personal encounter once brought this reality into sharp focus. Someone deeply admired for their composure and success shared, in quiet confidence, their inner turmoil. Behind their carefully curated routine was a constant fear of failure, self-criticism, and mental exhaustion. The image of serenity was, in truth, the product of an exhausting internal struggle.

That is the paradox of highly functional anxiety: it thrives beneath the surface of high performance. Many who experience it are perfectionists, meticulously organised and often the most dependable people in the room. They succeed not out of ease, but from a deep-seated need to stay ahead of the next potential crisis. Every achievement offers only a brief reprieve before the cycle of worry resumes.

The drive to excel is rarely about joy or growth; more often, it is about controlling chaos or silencing self-doubt. Each task becomes a lifeline, a temporary barrier against the creeping dread that something might go wrong. Even when celebrated, success can feel hollow, overshadowed by the anticipation of the next hurdle. It is not ambition for its own sake, but rather a constant bracing for disaster.

This kind of anxiety feels like waking with a vague sense of dread, as if something vital has been forgotten but cannot be recalled. It is rarely a sharp panic, more a dull, persistent hum that shadows every activity. The mind replays past conversations, forecasts future catastrophes, and clings to the illusion of control through endless mental rehearsal. Rest becomes elusive when thoughts refuse to slow.

Physical signs often go unnoticed or are normalised: clenched jaws, tight shoulders, and shallow breaths. Nervous habits emerge unconsciously tapping feet, twisting jewellery, fingers fidgeting with whatever is nearby. Social interactions, even with loved ones, can become performances curated to avoid judgment or boredom. What truly exhausts is not the activity itself, but the mental vigilance required to appear unaffected.

The origins of such anxiety may lie in something deeply foundational: the ability to trust the world. Erik Erikson’s theory of “Trust vs. Mistrust” suggests that when infants receive consistent care, they internalise the world as safe and dependable. But when that care is inconsistent or frightening, they may learn that the world cannot be relied upon. This early imprint shapes how future stress and uncertainty are processed.

Zooming out, the wider environment seems increasingly untrustworthy. Employment is precarious, economic pressures are mounting, and global crises dominate daily news cycles. Social media reinforces feelings of inadequacy through curated glimpses of perfection, while community ties, once sources of stability, grow thinner. When the external world feels unsafe, many attempt to build inner stability through over-functioning and hyper-control.

Thus, highly functional anxiety emerges not just as a personal burden but as a collective symptom. Societies that prize productivity above well-being reward those who appear most composed, regardless of what lies beneath. Expressing struggle is often mistaken for weakness, while silence is mistaken for strength. The better one becomes at hiding anxiety, the more invisible the struggle becomes.

To recognise this hidden roar in oneself or others is a powerful beginning. It requires an attuned awareness that the calmest face in the room may carry the heaviest emotional load. It challenges the notion that worthiness is tied to productivity or constant motion. Most of all, it calls for a gentler, more compassionate way of living, one that allows room for imperfection, rest, and vulnerability.

AG Meseret Flags Billions in Unrecovered Funds

The federal government continues to wrestle with entrenched fiscal mismanagement, a scathing audit report by Auditor General Meseret Damtie revealed.

Presenting her findings to Parliament last week, she commended the uptick in the number of federal agencies receiving “clean” audit opinions for the fiscal year 2023/24. However, Meseret’s report painted a picture of chronic inefficiency, unaddressed irregularities, and billions of Birr in both unspent budgets and unrecovered public funds.

At the heart of the revelations is an alarming 14.5 billion Br in budget allocations that went unused, funds earmarked for capital projects, development programs, and operational costs. The figure, though a decline from the 19.9 billion Br unspent the previous year, represents an ongoing systemic failure in budget absorption and implementation.

Leading the roster of underperforming agencies is the Ministry of Agriculture, under minister Girma Amente (PhD), which failed to utilise a staggering 7.8 billion Br in capital allocations. The Customs Commission left 574 million Br idle, while Arba Minch University exhibited the paradox of overspending by 210 million Br while simultaneously leaving 420 million Br unutilised, an embodiment of the widespread disarray in institutional cash flow planning.

Officials at Arba Minch University attributed the discrepancy to advance payments made on undelivered equipment and emergency reallocation of internal funds amid bureaucratic inertia at the Ministry of Finance. Yet, such explanations exposed the deeper issue of a governance culture where informal workarounds replace formal compliance.

Federal universities emerged as recurrent offenders in the Auditor General’s findings. Haramaya University overshot its budget by 422 million Br, while Gambella and Wollega universities trailed with 214 million Br and 198 million Br in excess spending, respectively. Overspending often comes from underestimates in recurring costs like student meals and academic services, aggravated by inflation and the rigidity of mid-year budget adjustments.

Audit directors at several universities, including Gondar’s Amsalu Ayenew, voiced frustration over allocations that failed to keep pace with market realities. Their recourse, reclassifying funds outside standard budget lines, while arguably pragmatic, runs afoul of the legal requirement to seek formal budget amendments, a lapse Meseret categorically condemned.

“Institutions must report anticipated shortfalls and request transfers legally,” she cautioned. “Unauthorised spending undermines fiscal discipline and impedes public service delivery.

A particularly damning revelation involves the ballooning stockpile of public receivables, amounting to 32.9 billion Br, comprising debts that are long overdue, with some stretching back over a decade. The Ministry of Health (MoH), under Mekides Daba (PhD), alone accounts for 6.7 billion Br, while Abraham Belay’s (PhD) Ministry of Irrigation & Lowlands (MoIL) trails with 1.7 billion Br. Compounding this are 3.6 billion Br in uncollected tax and customs arrears, and an additional 346 million Br lost due to valuation and foreign exchange conversion errors.

Despite years of audits identifying recoverable amounts totalling 20.49 billion Br, a mere 14.2pc – 2.91 billion Br – has been collected. Meanwhile, the federal government itself owes 11.3 billion Br in overdue payments, raising questions about intra-governmental fiscal accountability.

Procurement remains another area plagued by audit violations. Over 404 million Br was spent outside the parameters of public procurement law, including 229 million Br in direct purchases where competitive tendering was required.

Nonetheless, AG Meseret noted a considerable improvement in audit opinions, with 115 agencies receiving unqualified or “clean” audits, up from 79 the previous year. Adverse and disclaimer opinions dropped by half to 10, while qualified opinions fell to 38.

However, these improvements in financial reporting have not translated into operational discipline. The Ministry of Innovation & Technology, led by Molla Belete (PhD), failed to justify 65pc of its 1.58 billion Br in expenditures flagged by auditors. In contrast, Jimma University accounted for 97pc of its questioned spending, showing that improved compliance is possible.

“There’s a significant disconnect between technical reporting improvements and actual accountability,” Meseret said, branding the persistent “negligence” in addressing past audit findings as a systemic governance failure.

Lawmakers across the aisle reacted with visible exasperation.

Opposition MP Abreham Berta (PhD) of the Ethiopian Citizens for Social Justice party questioned the moral basis of aggressive tax collection when the state itself haemorrhages resources through mismanagement.

“How do we justify this waste while burdening citizens with tax hikes?” he asked.

Even MPs from the ruling Prosperity Party expressed dismay. Nezif Zinab attributed delays in infrastructure delivery not to funding shortages but to the mismanagement of available resources.

Economic analysts echoed these concerns. Mered Fikire Yohannes, CEO of Pragma Capital, raised inflation-induced forecasting errors and the rigidity of the public financial management system.

“We’ve a clear legal framework,” he noted. “The problem is enforcement. Budget shortfalls and overspending are preventable if institutions seek authorised reallocations.”

Mered also criticised the Auditor General’s lack of enforcement teeth, blaming the absence of prosecutorial powers to hold violators accountable.

Some institutions, including Gondar University, claimed they had warned of budget insufficiencies, but were met with bureaucratic inertia. Whether this constitutes a systemic communications failure or a strategic deflection remains open to interpretation.

Meseret urged a multi-pronged reform response, including recovery of outstanding funds, enforcement of penalties for violations, and the institutionalisation of real-time budget redistribution to address urgent shortages.

“Unused budgets should be rechanneled in real time to institutions facing shortages,” she argued. “This would maximise fiscal efficiency and improve service delivery.”

Real Respect Shows Up First

A couple of weeks ago, I found myself at a social gathering where strangers and old acquaintances mix in a haze of small talk and light laughter. It was meant to be forgettable, a blur of pleasantries and passing moments. But something I witnessed there stayed with me, not because it was loud or dramatic, but because it revealed something quietly unsettling about how we assign worth to people. It was a moment that exposed the mechanics of respect, how it is given, withheld, and too often delayed.

Among the guests was a woman visiting from abroad, part of the Ethiopian diaspora.

She carried herself with confidence, stylishly dressed, fluent in Amharic and English, and accustomed to attention. Her voice had the tone of someone used to being heard; she took up space with ease. People noticed her, and she seemed to enjoy being noticed.

Also present was another woman, visibly pregnant and moving with the slow grace of someone carrying both life and fatigue. Her outfit was soft and practical, her demeanour quiet and warm. She greeted people with gentle nods and kind smiles, without demanding attention. There was nothing flashy about her, only a quiet presence.

At one point, the pregnant woman rose to get some water and crossed paths with the visiting guest. She greeted her with a warm smile and a polite hello. The visitor barely looked up, gave a brief nod, and turned away. It was not loud or confrontational, just a cold shoulder that spoke volumes.

Later, in the usual way these gatherings fragment, people began breaking off into smaller circles. Someone nearby mentioned the pregnant woman’s name and her professional accomplishments. The visitor’s ears perked up immediately, her eyes widening with recognition. Suddenly, everything about her posture changed.

The visitor repeated the woman’s name aloud, this time with familiarity and interest.

She leaned in, her voice softer, more admiring, as she confirmed the pregnant woman’s identity. What followed was a full performance of warmth, greetings, compliments, animated conversation. Gone was the aloofness; in its place stood a woman eager to connect.

But the pregnant woman had not changed. She had not said anything new, or altered her appearance, or revealed a hidden talent. Only one thing had shifted: the visitor now knew her resume. And with that knowledge, her respect suddenly appeared, too late to be real.

What was revealed in that moment was not just a social misstep, but a troubling pattern many of us have seen before. Respect is withheld until a person’s achievements are revealed. Dignity offered not instinctively, but transactionally. It is a kind of social calculation that asks: “Are you worth my attention?”

We see this all the time, people assessing value by titles, not by character. They ask, “What do you do?” before they ask, “How are you?” They scan for prestige, status, or opportunity before showing warmth. And often, they offer their best manners only when they believe someone can offer them something in return.

The tragedy is not just in individual moments like these; it is in the pattern they create. The default becomes indifference until someone proves they are “somebody.” And by the time recognition arrives, it feels more like a correction than a connection. It is a respect that feels rehearsed, not real.

Real respect is not reactive. It does not need a title or a backstory. It does not require someone to impress first. It simply sees people as people.

This is not a call to flatter strangers or fake admiration. It is about making dignity the baseline. Offering a smile, a kind response, and a moment of presence. Not because someone might be important, but because they already are.

You can feel the difference. The visitor’s sudden admiration, however well-intentioned, rang hollow. It was not rooted in the woman’s presence; it was unlocked by her portfolio. And that makes all the difference.

People are not LinkedIn profiles in motion. They carry stories, pain, wisdom, and resilience, none of which are visible at first glance. The woman standing quietly in the corner might be holding the weight of the world and still choosing grace. She should not need to hand out a résumé to earn basic decency.

Respect is most meaningful when it arrives early, before credentials are revealed. It is what we show to the person clearing our table and the one sitting at the head of it. It is eye contact, sincerity, and presence. It is choosing to value humanity over hierarchy.

We live in a world that trains us to network, to leverage, to perform. But people can feel when they are being sized up for usefulness. They know when your kindness is conditional. And that knowledge creates distance, not connection.

There is nothing more transparent than respect that comes too late. And nothing more powerful than respect that comes without being asked for. We do not need to know someone’s qualifications to be kind. We do not need to be impressed to be respectful.

If we want to be people who build trust, who create safety, who foster belonging, then respect must come first. Not earned, not negotiated, but offered. Freely, instinctively, and sincerely. Because how we treat people before we know their resume says everything about who we are.

A Make-or-Break Moment for Global Debt Reform

Amid rising poverty, sluggish growth, escalating climate disasters, and geopolitical instability, sovereign debt has emerged as the single greatest obstacle to achieving global development goals. Without bold structural reforms, the current financial system will continue to serve the interests of the few while crushing the prospects of billions of people, especially in the Global South.

On June 30, world leaders will gather in Seville, Spain, for the Fourth International Conference on Financing for Development (FfD4). Despite today’s complex geopolitical landscape, countries have reached consensus on a draft outcome, an encouraging signal that multilateralism remains a viable path forward. The “Seville Commitment” was agreed last week in New York and will be adopted on the last day of the conference.

Among the positive developments are two notable pledges. It wants to create a new intergovernmental process to make recommendations on sovereign debt, giving developing countries a seat at the table in setting global debt norms. And, it establishes a debt facility focused on reducing the costs of capital and scaling up tools like debt swaps to help countries free up much-needed fiscal space.

These steps mark important progress, but they are far from sufficient. What remains missing is a credible, comprehensive mechanism for sovereign debt relief. Without it, many countries will remain trapped in a vicious cycle of debt, underinvestment, and climate vulnerability. This concern was also emphasised in the recent report by the Vatican-backed Jubilee Commission, which argues that “the international community has a moral obligation to advance a [second Heavily Indebted Poor Countries Initiative].”

As leaders from Africa, Latin America, and Asia, we know the developing world’s debt crisis firsthand. Our countries have grappled with impossible trade-offs between repaying creditors and investing in their future. What we need now is not charity, but a credible, rules-based system for sovereign debt relief that prioritises economic development and meaningful climate action over short-term financial gains.

The numbers speak for themselves. More than half of the world’s low-income countries are either in debt distress or at high risk of it. Since 2010, public debt across the Global South has grown twice as fast as in the Global North. As a result, over 3.3 billion people now live in countries that spend more on interest payments than on healthcare or education. In 2022-23 alone, developing countries recorded net cash outflows to external public and private creditors (excluding multilateral development banks).

The borrowing costs of low-income countries have surged to a four-decade high, driven by rising interest rates and slowing global economic growth. Given that this trend is unlikely to reverse anytime soon, World Bank Chief Economist, Indermit Gill, has warned that the world is rapidly approaching a sovereign-debt disaster, with “too many developing economies” caught in a “doom loop.”

The consequences are severe. More than 90pc of African countries now spend a larger share of their export revenues on interest payments than postwar Germany did under the 1953 London Debt Agreement. Small island developing states such as Dominica are forced to take on more debt to rebuild after recurring climate disasters. And Pakistan, facing devastating flooding in recent years, remains afloat only through repeated bailouts from the International Monetary Fund (IMF).

Yet, despite the high stakes, the international community continues to focus on incremental adjustments that treat the symptoms rather than the disease. Although initiatives like the G20’s Common Framework for Debt Treatments have brought some relief, the system remains ad hoc, slow, and fragmented, making it incapable of delivering timely or equitable solutions.

This year offers a critical opportunity to change course. The draft outcome of FfD4 reflects some momentum, but rhetoric should now be translated into results. We have to seize this moment to create a more coherent, predictable, and inclusive approach to debt relief.

We are calling for the immediate launch of a debt relief initiative for countries unable to invest in development due to unsustainable debt burdens or high servicing costs. Such an initiative should bring all creditors – private, bilateral, and multilateral – to the table and ensure that the process is both predictable and inclusive.

The solutions should go beyond mere financial fixes. Debt relief should be linked to strategic investments in healthcare, education, and climate resilience, enabling countries to unlock the fiscal space necessary to achieve the UN Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs) and promote green growth.

This also demands a fundamental shift in how debt sustainability is assessed. Current approaches fail to account for developing countries’ investment needs or the escalating risks posed by climate change and nature loss. Instead of penalising countries for investing in their futures, we need enhanced debt-sustainability assessments that align with development and climate goals.

The multilateral system was created to solve global problems. Today, however, it is struggling to keep pace with rapid geopolitical change. As the world moves toward multipolarity, calls for a fairer global order are gaining momentum. Europe, in particular, has an opportunity to restore its credibility in the eyes of the Global South by taking the lead on debt reform, both in principle and in practice.

Our commitment will not be measured by the declarations we make, but by the outcomes we deliver. The world does not need more promises. It needs real, structural debt reform – reform that empowers developing countries to invest in the futures their people deserve.

Addis Abeba’s Street Photographers Craft Futures Through the Lens

On a luminous Sunday afternoon at Mesqel Square, the chatter of conversation merges with the squeals of children who dart after pigeons, couples pose under sculpted arches, and the smell of chips, samussa, and roasted corn drifts through the air.

In the middle of the plaza stood Abraham Tebkew, a 26-year-old street photographer in a grey windbreaker, who lifted his camera. He caught a smiling family against a fountain that danced in coloured light.

Fewer than three years ago, Abraham was hauling sacks off lorries in Merkato, the vast open-air market where, legend says, Addis Abeba never seems to sleep. Born in the Awi Zone of the Amhara Regional State, he had travelled south in search of work. Yet, the clamour around the “Autobis Tera” bus terminal and the spectre of drifting into addiction unsettled him.

“I needed change,” he recalled, a shy grin forming as he twisted the lens cap in his hand.

A friend’s suggestion changed his life. Abraham scraped together enough money to buy a second-hand digital camera for under 30,000 Br and began wandering near the Sheraton Hotel, charging 200 Br for a half-hour shoot.

Today, most street photographers ask between 30 Br and 40 Br for a single image; group portraits fetch more, depending on props and edits. The business is lively, though official restrictions in some parts of the city leave Abraham uneasy.

His first camera served its purpose, but its limitations soon became apparent. He now shoulders a professional body and a zoom lens worth more than 165,000 Br.

“I planned to buy a modern camera to take good pictures,” he said, patting the strap. “If I earn more, I want to open a studio.”

For the moment, he shares a flat, splitting 8,000 Br in rent with a friend, yet still manages to save over 10,000 Br every month. Up to 2,000 Br is wired to relatives back home in Gojjam. For holidays, he covers the family shopping spree in full.

“Photography on the road is now our livelihood,” he told Fortune. “It sustains our lives and our families.”

But livelihood comes at a price. Photographers authorised to operate around Mesqel Square hand over 500 Br a day to the park administration, and earnings depend on the weather.

“It’s based on conditions,” he said.

A sunny afternoon can draw enough customers to generate between 1,000 Br and 2,500 Br; in the rain, the square empties. Weekends and evenings, when dancing fountains and neon floodlights switch on, deliver the busiest shifts.

The redesigned square is a microcosm of the modern capital. Uniformed security officers patrol tidy paths, vendors hawk fast food, and bicycle stalls do brisk business with children. At this stage, a new cohort of self-employed photographers is carving out a future in a city that is changing faster than at any time in its history.

Among them is Nahom Alemayehu, a native of Addis Abeba who has wanted to hold a camera since childhood. He trained for a year and collected his certificate in 2021, landing a first wage of 4,000 Br a month, “meagre,” he laughs, “but my heart was never about money”.

His debut birthday shoot did not go to plan.

“My first birthday shoot was a disaster,” he confessed. “I took photos all day, but very few were good. The client almost didn’t pay.”

Having learned on the job, Nahom now earns between 800 Br and 3,000 Br a day. Fasting seasons shrink footfall, yet weekends remain lucrative.

The city administration recognises the profession, issuing badges and areas of operation, but access depends on location. Nahom avoids Piassa, the colonial-era centre, and instead works at places such as the Sheraton forecourt, Mexico Square, and the National Park. Selam Park, located on Africa Avenue, farther from Mesqel Square, prohibits the use of freelance cameras altogether.

“Security tells us we can’t work there,” he said with a shrug.

In Casanchis, the gentrifying district of his youth, city code enforcers repeat the same mantra: “The area must be organised first.”

Even Selam Park has tweaked the rules. Management recently hired eight designated photographers, turning what was once a free-for-all into a structured rota of daily employees. In May, hoping to follow that model, Nahom and his mates petitioned the parks administration to form a cooperative.

“They tell us to bring a letter from the district,” he told Fortune. “But the district needs confirmation from the parks office. It just goes around in circles.”

However, he remained optimistic that the paperwork would align.

The backdrop to these turf battles is the city’s corridor development project, launched in February last year. Phase one resurfaced 48Km of arterial roads through Piassa, Arat Kilo, Bole, Megenagna, Mexico and CMC for three billion Birr, displacing more than 11,000 residents – Nahom’s family among them – and pulling down scores of small businesses. Municipal officials say the pain will yield long-term gains.

“We’re building more than just parks,” said Wubinet Belay, deputy chief executive of the Addis Abeba City Administration Public Recreation Areas Corporation, the agency overseeing the new green strips. “These are job-creating spaces.”

More than 85 parks already dot the city, and another 60 are on the drawing board. Fountains, low-energy lights, and permanent kiosks are designed to keep visitors and their spending power in place after dark. Each site currently provides employment for between 20 and 30 vendors, cleaners, maintenance staff, and restroom attendants. Plans would pass the water and electricity bills on to tenants.

Photographers are welcome, Wubinet insisted, as long as they present a united face.

“We prioritise those who have worked at a site the longest,” he told Fortune. “They will pay a fee based on location, then they can operate.”

Approximately 100 photographers work daily at Meskel Square, with numbers doubling on weekends. Another 23 photographers are active at the Adwa Museum, and 13 operate around the Ethio-Cuba Friendship Park.

Nahom already puts away roughly 10,000 Br a month and says formal recognition would help him grow.

Others are still climbing.

Dawit Amha, 25, embodies the new wave. He borrowed a 40,000-Br camera from a friend, took a year of formal training at Tom Photography & Videography School. He is now debt-free.

“When I started, I had only passion and a loan,” Dawit said. “Now, I can take care of myself.”

His dream is a high-end body and the freedom to shoot wherever the light falls.

He began outside the Sheraton on Taitu St., but drifted to Mexico Square after bulldozers cleared the old Total filling station and replaced it with polished paving, a fountain, and a softly lit café popular with evening strollers. Last month, local officials banned informal photography in the area.

“There’s no more work in that area or many others,” Dawit said.

He pointed to Mesqel Square as proof that order can work. There, photographers have grouped themselves and pay 500 Br each day in exchange for security guards leaving them to work. Around Mexico Square, the remaining camerapersons keep their shutters half-closed, wary of being moved on. In Piassa, a handful of unlicensed photographers have been arrested.

The elder statesman of the craft is Eshetu Lemecha, a father of three who has spent more than two decades behind the lens. A friend nudged him into the trade, and he learned by watching.

“With no training, but sheer courage and a friend showing me around, I started the very next day,” he recalled.

His first film camera cost 300 Br, the money borrowed from close friends. He still remembers the subject of his maiden frame, outside St. Yohanis Church on Arbegnoch Street, close to Ras Desta Hospital.

“My first pay was three Birr,” he laughed. “I was thrilled then.”

Before the corridor upgrade, Eshetu struggled to attract customers beneath a simple sign that read “Addis Abeba”. The sign has gone and he now works in a group of 20 around the Adwa Museum, an ensemble of plazas near the statue of Emperor Menelik II and opposite the Mayor’s office. His current camera, bought used for 60,000 Br, would once have cost 200,000 Br. The ambition is a family studio.

“I plan to print memories,” he said. “What my clients give me may disappear, but what I give them will never vanish.”

Eshetu’s collective has expanded to cover official functions at the museum, which celebrates African victories and pan-Africanism with an amphitheatre, youth centres, and public libraries. Tourists arrive by the busload, and photographers follow in their footsteps.

Not every lens is lured by the new boulevards, however.

Mulugeta Werqiye, a travel photographer and founder of the Ethiopian Photography Tour, has spent a decade guiding amateurs and professionals across Ethiopia. He shows first-timers how to navigate the capital, but seasoned visitors prefer older textures.

“They want to capture the old vibe, places like Lalibela, Merkato, and the traditional lifestyle in South Omo,” said Mulugeta. “They aren’t interested in photographing gentrified areas like Piassa or Mexico.”

One guest was so particular that he refused to press the shutter in Gondar after hearing that the castle had been limewashed.

“He said he would return only when it looked old again,” said Mulugeta.

The wildlife segment, by contrast, is booming. He observed that interest among foreign nationals and local wildlife photographers was growing.

“This is where Ethiopia’s true photographic value lies,” he told Fortune.

On the streets of Addis Abeba, reactions can be mixed.

“Some laugh or react negatively,” he said. “But, I still appreciate the work these cameramen are doing.”

Business consultant Misikir Mulugeta considers the shift overdue. He views the corridor development as an opportunity for photographers to diversify their income. Without organisation, he argues, they will miss out on larger contracts and tie-ups with tour groups.

“Photographers should get organised to gain legitimacy and access to better opportunities,” he said.

Misikir reels off ideas – selling prints on T-shirts or mugs, offering instant souvenir shots, partnering with travel operators – before laying down a challenge.

“They should give me something I can’t get on my phone,” he said. “Photography now needs to offer more: creativity, originality, and professional quality.”

He insisted that cameras can yet lead an industry “that preserves memory, tells stories, and shapes history.”

By twilight, Mesqel Square glows orange. The last rays of sun bounced off the wet concrete; children slid across the polished surface, their laughter mingling with the hum of generators. Abraham tweaked his shutter speed for a final frame while Nahom, a few metres away, scrolled through his day’s haul beneath a lamppost.

The park, once a patch of bare ground, has become both sanctuary and studio. The corridor development has redrawn the map of Addis Abeba, sweeping away long-established neighbourhoods yet opening unexpected paths to self-employment. For these photographers, each click is income, and each print is a reminder that memories still matter to many.