FORTUNE+ VIDEO SPONSORED CONTENTS ADVERTORIALS FORTUNE AUDIO Fortune Careers TRADE AFRICA Election 2026 New TIME REMAINING UNTIL ETHIOPIA’S NATIONAL ELECTION 0Days 0Hours 0Minutes 0Seconds

Fortune Logo

Author: Digital Editor

The Wedding Before the Wedding Erodes “Shimgilina” Tradition

Posted on by Digital Editor

At a close friend’s “Shimgilina”, a traditional betrothal intercession, I saw how the old rules remain visibly present. They had merely moved into a modern setting, softened by decoration, food, friends and the quiet staging now common in family celebrations.

The invitation had reached beyond immediate relatives to include close friends from both families. The bride wore a carefully made “Habesha” dress, with light, natural makeup. Beside my friend stood two other friends in coordinated traditional attire, giving the gathering a visual order that felt deliberate but not excessive. A small buffet had been prepared for guests. Inside the house, the elders held their discussions.

Outside, the rest of us waited in a relaxed mood, dressed in a mix of traditional and casual clothes. It felt less like a negotiation than a farewell gathering, a moment marking one stage of life before another began.

The decoration was modest but elegant, suited to the size of the gathering and to the new aesthetic shaping many local celebrations. When the ceremony ended and the elders left, the bride-to-be’s mother greeted us warmly, with grace and hospitality. One detail stood out, though. The groom was not there. His absence offered a glimpse of the older structure still surviving within a contemporary ceremony. Later, I learned that he was holding a separate gathering with close family members who had not attended the “Shimgilina”. It was a parallel celebration that, even as the practice changes, parts of its original design still find a place.

As generations change, cultures move with them. Some traditions return in altered form. Others retreat quietly under the pressure of modern life. Few customs show this tension as clearly as “Shimgilina”, a pre-wedding ritual that once belonged to a narrow circle of family elders but now, in many cases, looks like a small wedding ceremony in its own right.

The traditional betrothal intercession is the formal approach by elders from the groom’s family to the bride’s family to ask for her hand in marriage. It is more than a procedural visit and a symbolic act built on respect, diplomacy and the joining of two families. The central figures are the elders, selected for their wisdom, social standing and ability to speak for the groom’s family with dignity and tact. The ceremony has its own rhythm.

The groom’s side presents its request, often praising the groom’s character and personality, upbringing and ability to provide. This presentation could be taken as a “sales pitch”, not in a literal sense, but as a poetic and respectful account of the groom’s virtues. The bride’s family responds with a traditional resistance, a ritual hesitation that signals the gravity of the decision rather than actual opposition. They may ask the elders to leave and return later, allowing time for private family discussion.

Dowry customs have also formed part of the marriage traditions. A few days before the wedding, the groom’s family presents symbolic gifts to the bride’s family. These often include sheep, alcohol, gold or traditional clothing. They are meant to show honour, commitment and serious intention. In recent practice, this custom has started to merge with “Shimgilina” itself, with elders sometimes arriving at the initial visit carrying such offerings. Practices that were once separate are increasingly being folded into a single event.

Historically, Shimgilina unfolded slowly. Once a groom decided to pursue marriage, his family would select three or five elders to represent them. That choice was treated as an art. The elders had to be respected people, often with close ties to the family, who could manage delicate conversations without causing offence.

They would visit the bride’s home and meet her family’s representatives. They would stand while making their request, a gesture of humility and respect. The bride’s side would ask questions about the groom and his background, then seek time, often up to two weeks, to consult relatives before giving an answer. The exchange could take two or three rounds, and acceptance was never guaranteed.

There was no celebration during these first visits. The elders might not even be invited inside the house or offered food until the answer was favourable. The process was restrained and serious, with meaning attached to each gesture. Neither the groom nor his immediate family accompanied the elders, preserving the formal and mediated nature of the approach.

In the older arrangement, the ceremony drew its force from what was withheld. Delay, silence and distance were not signs of hostility but parts of the language of consent. Families used them to measure seriousness, protect dignity and allow elders to carry words that younger people could not easily speak for themselves. That structure gave Shimgilina its power, because the decision appeared to emerge from consultation rather than display, and from family authority rather than personal announcement. Its restraint was itself a message, carrying weight before any celebration could properly begin.

Only when a final answer was given would the bride’s family prepare a modest gathering for elders and close relatives. That moment marked the start of the next phase, when engagement plans could be discussed and, later, celebrations arranged. Its simplicity contrasted with the weight of the process that had come before.

In recent years, however, social media and the expanding event-planning industry have reshaped the ritual. What was once a quiet and deliberate negotiation has become, in some circles, a curated social event. Shimgilina now brings to mind not only elders, but event organisers, caterers, makeup artists, florists, clothing designers, videographers and photographers.

Modern ceremonies often resemble mini weddings. The bride and groom may appear together in matching traditional attire, surrounded by friends and extended family. The number of elders may grow from the traditional three or five to 10 or more. The groom himself may accompany them, a presence that earlier practice would have found unthinkable.

These changes raise a difficult question.

Does the evolution strengthen the tradition by keeping it relevant? Does it weaken the purpose that gave the ritual meaning?

When both families gather, already aware of the outcome, the negotiation risks becoming a script. The suspense, the gradual building of consensus and the symbolic resistance that once defined the betrothal can be replaced by performance.

Zemanwit Tasew, a 52-year-old widow, remembers a different process. Her betrothal took place in 1993. The process took three rounds. During the first two visits, the elders were not even allowed to enter her parents’ house. They were turned away at the door, a gesture that underlined the seriousness of the request and the need for careful consideration.

Now, Zemanwit speak with a sense of longing.

“I wish we could go back to the traditional way and save all the celebration for the engagement and wedding,” she said.

Her words echo the fear that the essence of Shimgilina is being overshadowed by its contemporary reinterpretation. The tension is not simply between old and new but between meaning and display. Shimgilina survives because families continue to value respect, patience and communal unity. Yet its survival now depends on whether those values can remain visible beneath the costumes, cameras and carefully arranged scenes of a changing culture.

The Geopolitical Battle Over Monetary Infrastructure

Posted on by Digital Editor

The development of payment infrastructure in emerging-market economies (EMEs), from instant payment systems in retail markets to wholesale central bank digital currencies (CBDCs) for cross-border interbank settlement, is part of a broader technological transformation. But the intense scrutiny these initiatives face from the United States (US) signals that what is at stake is not only technical supremacy, but monetary power itself.

Changes to how payments are executed imply a shift in control over the critical infrastructure through which money circulates, with consequences for the exercise of monetary sovereignty. While sovereignty in monetary affairs was traditionally understood as the authority to issue currency, it expanded over time to include oversight of banking systems and financial flows. In an increasingly digitalised world, however, sovereignty now hinges on the mechanisms underpinning payments and settlements, and the data generated by financial transactions.

This shift is especially visible in EMEs, where formal sovereignty has long coexisted with structural dependence. For years, the dollar’s dominance has rested not only on its status as a global currency but also on a dense network of privately governed infrastructure, such as the Society for Worldwide Interbank Financial Telecommunication (SWIFT), the New York Clearing House Interbank Payments System (CHIPS), and the Continuous Linked Settlement (CLS). These networks shape how cross-border payments and financial settlements are conducted.

Far from being neutral conduits, these US-dominated systems embed geopolitical power into the routine functioning of global finance, enabling “weaponised interdependence” through sanctions, exclusion, and control over financial flows.

Brazil’s Pix is a case in point. An instant payment platform created and managed by the Central Bank of Brazil, Pix has rapidly become a central pillar of the country’s financial architecture, surpassing payment cards in transaction volume. It embodies a governance model in which the state manages both payment rules and the data generated by transactions, an increasingly important source of economic and strategic power.

This has clearly spooked the US. The Office of the United States Trade Representative (USTR) opened an investigation into Brazil and included Pix in its 2026 National Trade Estimate Report on Foreign Trade Barriers, under the broader category of “non-market policies and practices” that may generate “economic and national security risks” to the US. The report positions state-led payment infrastructure, data-localisation measures, and digital regulations as potential distortions of competition that disadvantage foreign firms, particularly US financial-service providers.

But Brazil is not an isolated case. The USTR report expresses similar concerns about efforts in India, China, Indonesia, Turkey, Vietnam, Pakistan, Algeria, Oman, Kuwait, Qatar, and Thailand to develop domestic payment systems and strengthen regulatory control over digital and financial infrastructure, including through data-localisation requirements.

This trend reflects a broader global shift toward a state-led approach to building financial infrastructure for the digital economy. Domestic payment systems, including Pix and India’s UPI, should therefore be understood as part of a wider movement among EMEs to reclaim control over the rails on which money and financial data move. Such a structural shift becomes even more consequential at the cross-border level, unlocking the potential to connect domestic instant payment systems (such as the Bank for International Settlements-led Project Nexus) and, crucially, to use CBDCs for wholesale transactions.

Projects such as mBridge, which brings together China, Hong Kong, Thailand, the United Arab Emirates, and Saudi Arabia, with initial support from the BIS, as well as emerging BRICS+ initiatives, illustrate how CBDCs can be used to redesign international payment infrastructure. By integrating messaging, clearing, and settlement, a single, state-governed platform may reduce reliance on traditional intermediaries and enable direct settlement in local currencies.

More importantly, this approach embeds public authority into the technological architecture of payments and settlements, expressed in code, protocols, and governance rules. Monetary sovereignty, in this context, becomes infrastructure. It is exercised through the design and control of systems that support cross-border financial flows.

For EMEs, this represents a strategic opportunity. By reducing dependence on dollar-based infrastructure and enabling settlement in local currencies, multi-CBDC platforms and a standardised protocol linking domestic instant payment systems provide a pathway, albeit still limited, to expand the external dimension of monetary sovereignty.

To be sure, these developments do not signal the end of dollar dominance. The structural foundations of today’s US-led system, from deep and liquid domestic financial markets to strong network effects and global demand for dollar-denominated assets, are robust. The rapid expansion of dollar-backed stablecoins may even reinforce this dominance in the digital realm.

But a more fragmented and contested landscape is emerging. The new initiatives are reconfiguring the existing system at the margins, creating alternative channels, redistributing power (albeit to a limited degree), and, above all, demonstrating that infrastructure, not currency, is the primary terrain of monetary competition.

This evolution has two important implications. First, future conflicts in the international monetary system are likely to centre on standards, platforms, and data governance rather than exchange rates or reserve currencies. And, EMEs are no longer merely passive recipients of global financial standards. They are becoming drivers of institutional and technological innovation.

In this context, the central question is no longer who issues money, but who designs and governs the infrastructure through which it moves. The answer will not be determined by technological efficiency alone. It will be shaped by law, institutional choices, and geopolitical strategy, ultimately defining the future distribution of monetary power.

African Development Finance Blind Spots

Posted on by Digital Editor

Africa’s development-finance gap is the continent’s biggest challenge, and at its core, it is a design problem. In the absence of the instruments and regulatory pathways needed to channel domestic savings toward productive investment, much of the continent’s capital remains trapped in short-term sovereign debt. This raises a fundamental question.

What would it take to build a development-finance system that can actually finance development?

The answer is intelligence. Integrated and forward-looking macro-financial analysis can identify whether the system is functioning and where risks are building before unexpected shocks bring vulnerabilities to the surface.

Africa currently lacks three key elements of financial intelligence, starting with a clear view of contingent liabilities. This is most evident not in distressed economies, where some form of oversight exists, but in countries that are not subject to close macro-financial monitoring. Ironically, these are often the countries where new financial instruments are spreading most rapidly.

A second vulnerability lies in the nature of macroeconomic discussions between development-finance institutions and governments. These interactions tend to be strictly transactional. While they often reassure policymakers that the country’s fiscal position is stable, new liabilities are rarely incorporated into macroeconomic risk assessments, allowing pressures to build.

Lastly, there is no pan-African analytical benchmark for pricing new financial instruments. Without a common framework to evaluate a credit-enhanced bond in Nairobi, a blended-finance vehicle in Abidjan, and a guaranteed infrastructure bond in Lagos on comparable terms, risk is bound to be systematically mispriced. When the first default arrives, investors will not retreat selectively. They will exit the asset class altogether. Consequently, the track record needed for these markets to mature will not develop.

This is a structural problem, not an institutional failure. Global macro-surveillance institutions focus on systemically important markets by design, leaving most African capital markets outside their purview. Meanwhile, regional development banks have the necessary macroeconomic expertise, but their analytical work is oriented toward stability rather than tracking capital flows and contingent liabilities. National regulators, for their part, operate within narrow jurisdictions, and credit rating agencies mostly cover sovereign debt rather than the local and blended instruments on which the new credit architecture depends.

The result is a fragmented analytical landscape in which no institution can integrate available information into a system-wide risk assessment.

That said, creating a new institution is neither necessary nor practical. In advanced economies, the market itself integrates pricing and risk assessment through a mature buy-side and sell-side ecosystem that guides capital allocation. While Africa’s ecosystem remains less developed, with limited investment-banking capacity and sparse buy-side research, this is merely a transitional condition.

Transitions, however, do not manage themselves. Until markets become deep enough to sustain their own intelligence infrastructure, a larger institution should fill the gap. The African Development Bank (AfDB) is uniquely positioned to fill that role. Working closely with the governments of its 54 regional member countries, it has direct knowledge of fiscal positions, debt structures, and domestic policy constraints.

The AfDB also structures transactions across a growing range of new instruments, in cooperation with domestic pension funds, global asset managers, and development finance institutions. No other body has that kind of sovereign reach, transaction visibility, and investor access. Yet this role is not fully reflected in the Bank’s mandate. As the financial system evolves, its mandate must evolve with it.

Closing Africa’s intelligence gap requires tracking contingent liabilities as guarantees are approved, not after financing has already been structured. Each guarantee adds to a government’s balance sheet and, therefore, should be tracked as it is created, taking into account the country’s debt trajectory and the conditions under which the government would have to honour the liability. Another priority is developing common analytical standards for emerging asset classes, as markets cannot mature without shared frameworks for pricing, monitoring, and stress-testing.

Few institutions are better suited to establish such standards than the AfDB. Its transaction volume, continental reach, and investor relationships give it the credibility needed to ensure they are widely adopted.

Building the necessary analytical capacity also demands a profound cultural shift. Inside development banks, economic analysis and project financing have long worked in parallel, with economists producing reports while deal teams structure transactions. For the system to work, economic intelligence cannot remain merely a research product. It should inform decision-making in real time, guiding capital allocation and risk assessment. Crucially, that shift cannot be imposed from outside. It has to be led from within.

Most importantly, financial intelligence cannot be separated from the creation of coordination platforms and domestic savings reform. The three are mutually reinforcing parts of the same system. Platforms without intelligence allow risks to accumulate unnoticed, and without platforms, new instruments never scale beyond one-off transactions, leaving risk analysts with nothing to price.

Africa has the savings and the ambition to build a world-class development-finance system. What it needs now is the analytical infrastructure that can translate coordinated initiatives into functioning capital markets, along with the institutional and political support required to sustain them.

Making Roads Pathways of Progress, Not Corridors of Grief

Posted on by Digital Editor

For decades, Ethiopia’s roads have been described through the language of fate. The dominant word has been “accident,” a term that softens responsibility and connotes a sudden and unavoidable misfortune.

The new thinking behind road safety rejects that comfort. It treats crashes not as random events, but as the outcome of choices in infrastructure design, law enforcement and public policy. The human body can absorb only a limited amount of kinetic energy. When a fast-moving vehicle hits a pedestrian, a cyclist or another object, the force can quickly exceed what the body can survive. That is why specialists frame crashes as a public health and design problem, not merely a matter of individual blame.

This is the basis of the “Safe System” approach. Its core idea is “forgiving design.” People make mistakes, with drivers misjudging distance, pedestrians crossing at the wrong moment, cyclists moving through traffic and passengers forgetting to fasten restraints. A safe road network assumes these failures will happen and is built so that a lapse does not become a death sentence. Speed management, physical barriers, safer crossings and road layouts that explain themselves to users are all part of that logic.

Transport authorities are now trying to give this philosophy legal force through a traffic regulation issued in 2024. It is intended to replace a fragmented and reactive system with a more unified, preventive standard. It codifies stricter speed limits, mandatory safety restraints and a national demerit point system. More importantly, it signals that safety is not only the duty of drivers. It is shared by those who design roads, manage cities, enforce rules and use the transport system.

The harder question is whether the law can work across the country’s varied regional realities. Its first tests are now visible in cities, freight corridors and post-conflict communities, where modern policy is meeting uneven capacity, local habits and infrastructure often not built with vulnerable road users in mind.

A multi-stakeholder coalition is working hard to reap the fruits of implementing the new regulation.

There is the Road Safety Insurance Fund Services (RSIFS), the federal lead agency for road safety under the Ministry of Transport & Logistics (MoTL). It is the guardian institution for regulations, public policy, and investment in road safety. The Addis Abeba University has also proven instrumental in providing scientific expertise and technical support for the RSIFS. Such technical support, in the form of road crash data and risk factor analysis, has formed the evidence base for the new regulation.

The two institutions have found a financier for this crucial initiative in the Global Road Safety Partnership (GRSP).

Together with the federal entities, regional transport agencies and regional universities have also joined this effort. Experts selected from Dire Dawa, Mekelle, Bahir Dar, and Hawassa universities have also joined Addis Abeba University to assist the transport authorities in their respective regions with all manner of technical and scientific activities that support the enforcement of the regulation. This is probably the first time universities are working in close coordination with government agencies at a national scale to effect change in road safety.

How are different areas of the country doing in enforcing the regulation?

Dire Dawa shows the promise and the limits of the new order. The city is a logistics hub where heavy freight traffic meets narrow urban streets and traditional animal-drawn carts. Its administration has pushed enforcement into the digital age by integrating traffic fine management with Telebirr. This has created a more transparent system, reduced room for informal handling of fines and generated data that can help authorities understand driver behaviour.

Yet Dire Dawa also exposes a gap between the law’s ambition and the tools available to enforce it. Breathalysers needed to detect alcohol impairment are scarce. Radar guns needed to capture “Special Grade” speeding violations are also in short supply. The result is a regulatory paradox. The law now demands precise, technology-backed enforcement, while officers on the road still rely heavily on observation. Some of the most dangerous conduct, therefore, remains difficult to measure, prove and punish.

In Amhara Regional State, the problem appears more direct. Speed is the central threat, where nearly all recorded violations involve speeds well above the legal limit, while more than half reach extreme levels that would sharply raise the chance of death in a crash. Regional transport officials have identified a “speeding culture” as a public-health danger in dense urban or market areas. Their response has focused on the “Safe Speeds” pillar of the “Safe System.” They are establishing 30Km/h speed limits around schools and markets in cities such as Bahir Dar and Gondar.

For pedestrians, the risk of death rises steeply as impact speed moves from 30Km/h toward 50Km/h. A modest increase on the speedometer can mean a drastic change in survival. The experiment is not simply about ticketing drivers but separating fast traffic from people least able to survive a collision.

The Sidama Regional State offers a different lesson. There, road safety is treated as a social contract and a legal obligation. In partnership with Hawassa University, the Regional State has deployed the Road Accident Data Management System (RADMS), using Geographic Information Systems (GIS) to map “black spots” where crashes are more likely to occur. This allows the authorities to focus on high-risk locations, including the Gelana River bridge, rather than relying solely on broad patrols.

The approach is important because it brings several institutions into the same frame. Police, health professionals, educators and insurers all have roles in reducing crashes and managing their consequences. The model of the Sidama Regional State demonstrates that the 2024 regulation would gain force when communities see it not only as a punitive instrument of the state but also as a shared safeguard for lives, household incomes, and regional productivity.

The Tigray Regional State demonstrates another dimension of enforcement, aligning road safety practices with benchmarks set by the World Health Organisation (WHO) during post-conflict recovery. The new regulation’s attention to pedestrians and wheelchair users is especially relevant because it places some of the most vulnerable people on the road within the protection of the law rather than outside its practical concern.

But the Regional State also reveals a weakness that extends beyond one region. Equipment standards remain uneven. Cycling is deeply rooted in the region, yet many cyclists do not wear helmets. Many motorcyclists who wear helmets use construction-grade headgear rather than certified motor-safety equipment, creating a false sense of “compliance.” A person may appear to obey the rule while receiving little of the biomechanical protection the rule is supposed to provide.

Turning the federal regulation into a life-saving system will require more than legal text. National and regional authorities need major investment in enforcement technology because a rule that cannot be measured cannot be managed. Breathalysers, speed cameras and radar guns should not be viewed as luxuries. They are the instruments that convert a written standard into a credible deterrent.

The country also needs roads that guide behaviour instead of merely warning against danger. In low-speed zones, signs alone are unlikely to be enough. Narrower lanes, raised crossings, textured surfaces, and other self-explanatory infrastructure can make speeding feel uncomfortable and wrong. The private sector also has a role. Certified helmets, child restraints and other safety gear should be affordable and available.

Import tax exemptions for traffic safety equipment deserve consideration because the fiscal cost is likely to be outweighed by the lives saved and injuries avoided.

The goal is a transport system that moves toward zero fatalities. That will require scientific discipline, institutional persistence and a willingness to confront old habits. The shift from “accident” to “forgiving design” is a test of whether every safe kilometre and every enforced speed limit can spare families grief and turn roads into pathways of progress rather than corridors of tragedy.

Debtor Countries Finally Have a Group of Their Own

Posted on by Digital Editor

A group of developing countries launched the Borrowers’ Platform last month to create a stronger collective voice in debt management discussions and international financial negotiations.

While the initiative is grounded in the Sevilla Commitment, adopted at last year’s Fourth International Conference on Financing for Development held in Spain, it was long in the making. To paraphrase the French literary giant Victor Hugo, nothing is stronger than an idea whose time has come.

For decades, developing countries have been forced to navigate an increasingly complex international financial system. With systemic and geopolitical risks mounting, uncertainty has become the new normal, prompting a growing chorus of Global South policymakers to call for greater collaboration and coordination. The Sevilla Commitment formalised this idea, with United Nations (UN) member states agreeing to “establish a platform for borrower countries with support from existing institutions, and a UN entity serving as its secretariat.”

The hope was to create a venue for these countries to discuss technical issues, share information on addressing debt challenges, access technical assistance and capacity building in debt management, coordinate their approaches, and influence the global debt architecture.

The Borrowers’ Platform arrives not a moment too soon. In 2024, 61 developing countries spent at least 10pc of government revenue on debt service, while 3.4 billion people live in countries that spend more on interest payments than on health or education. The high costs of servicing the debt these countries have accumulated to finance their development are now threatening that agenda.

Interdependent and overlapping global crises, coupled with the most significant and prolonged period of monetary policy tightening in more than two decades, have resulted in a widening gap between developing countries’ interest payments and government revenue. This leaves policymakers with extremely limited fiscal space for public investment, including to achieve the Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs) by 2030 and to build climate resilience.

Compounding these countries’ dilemma, the nature of sovereign debt has changed remarkably in recent years, reflecting shifts in creditor composition and the use of more complex instruments and contractual innovations.

Negotiating such a complex system requires informed and capable policymakers supported by skilled teams in finance ministries and debt-management agencies, a challenge even for advanced economies. Meanwhile, existing global debt frameworks have not kept pace with these changes and remain unresponsive to the needs of countries in debt distress, many of which are in the Global South. As a result, these economies are left to face acute financing pressures on their own, lacking the institutions (both formal and informal) that have long enabled creditors to align their activities.

The Borrowers’ Platform seeks to change that. It recognises that indebted countries have much to learn from each other’s experiences. Equally important, it can help these countries build capacity to identify and address debt challenges by providing coordinated technical assistance on issues ranging from debt management to engagement with rating agencies and other financial-market actors. There is strength in numbers when it comes to advocating for relevant and necessary reforms to the global debt system.

Developing countries were quick to seize on the agreement reached in Seville. To move the process forward, a working group comprising representatives from Egypt (chair), Zambia, Pakistan (vice-chair), Nepal, Colombia, Honduras, and the Maldives was established. With support from UN Trade & Development experts, the group developed and agreed on a preliminary framework outlining the platform’s objectives, membership eligibility, and governance structure, which prospective members can consider and adapt during the interim phase.

Membership is open to developing countries that are UN member states, bilateral borrowers, and not permanent or full members of a creditor association. Of the more than 100 countries that meet these criteria and have been invited to join, over 30 have done so.

As the interim chair of the Borrowers’ Platform, I am committed to ensuring that the group delivers tangible results and evolves into an effective mechanism for all participating countries. Members have already begun working together on a voluntary, non-binding basis to achieve common objectives, such as promoting peer learning, establishing a knowledge repository, and enhancing the quality and integrity of debt-related data. Thus, borrower countries are signalling to markets a willingness and ability to improve debt practices and development-finance outcomes.

While the launch of the Borrowers’ Platform is a welcome milestone, it is only the beginning. Its success will require sustained engagement by member countries, continued support from international partners, and a shared commitment to practical, results-oriented cooperation.

The Silence That Leadership Can’t Keep

Posted on by Digital Editor

A few days ago, I attended a virtual conference in Canada that stayed with me, not because of the agenda alone, but because of how people spoke to each other. I expected a structured gathering where leaders present reports, participants listen quietly, and decisions move forward with minimal friction. What I witnessed instead was something far more demanding and far more honest.

Over several hours, the atmosphere shifted from formality to accountability in real time. A mentor of mine, who later secured the global mission Executive Director position, was among the candidates. The voting process brought together staff from diverse regions and experiences. Early on, the tone changed. It stopped feeling ceremonial and started feeling real.

Participants began raising direct concerns. They spoke about weak communication, withheld information, financial opacity, and a broader sense of neglect in parts of leadership. These were not softened remarks or carefully coded suggestions. They were precise, pointed, and at times uncomfortable.

What stood out was not that leaders were challenged. It was how they responded. There was no deflection or dismissal. They listened. They acknowledged gaps. More importantly, they were pressed not only on what went wrong, but on what concrete steps were being taken to fix it, and how recurrence would be prevented. The underlying message in the room was clear: authority does not cancel responsibility, and position does not provide immunity from scrutiny.

For hours, the discussion continued with intensity but also discipline. Participants insisted on clarity. Leaders were expected to move beyond vague reassurance and offer grounded, actionable responses.

As I listened, I kept comparing it to meetings I have attended in other contexts, both locally and internationally. The contrast was hard to ignore. In many local settings, meetings begin with structure and end with fatigue, often without altering outcomes.

Time is spent on long speeches that circle familiar phrases, while the real issues remain unspoken or only lightly touched. There is often an unspoken rule that discomfort should be avoided, especially when it involves questioning authority.

In such environments, honesty carries a quiet cost. People learn quickly that pointing out problems can be read as disrespect rather than contribution. Over time, behaviour adjusts. Issues are not raised early. Errors are tolerated. Decisions that clearly fail are endured rather than challenged. What forms is not harmony, but stagnation dressed as stability.

What I witnessed in the Canadian conference was the opposite. It was not conflict for its own sake. It was structured honesty. Disagreement was treated as participation, not disloyalty. Leaders were not weakened by scrutiny. If anything, their credibility strengthened as they engaged directly with criticism instead of avoiding it.

That distinction matters. When leadership is insulated from critique, it drifts away from reality. When people are discouraged from speaking, problems do not disappear; they simply move underground. Eventually, they surface in ways that are harder and more expensive to resolve. By then, the cost of correction has multiplied.

In contrast, systems that normalise accountability tend to respond faster and adapt better. Mistakes are identified earlier. Solutions are tested openly. Trust is built not on perfection, but on transparency. The expectation is not flawlessness, but responsibility.

My experience working with international organisations has reinforced this pattern. In those environments, the emphasis is less on protecting hierarchy and more on protecting outcomes. Meetings are judged not by how smooth they feel, but by whether they produce clarity and direction. When something is wrong, it is named. When something is unclear, it is questioned. When decisions fail, they are reviewed without fear of personal retaliation.

One of the most important effects of this culture is psychological safety. People speak up because they know their input will not cost them their place in the system. That safety is not softness. It is structure. It allows truth to surface early, when it is still useful, instead of late, when it is costly.

Watching that conference made me reflect on what this means in contexts like Ethiopia, where institutional culture often struggles with openness. The real challenge is not whether problems exist. It is how systems respond when they are named. When speaking up leads to punishment rather than progress, silence becomes rational. And when silence becomes normal, problems compound.

Change in this area requires a shift in how leadership is understood. Leadership cannot remain a position to defend; it must function as a responsibility to serve. A strong leader is not one who avoids criticism, but one who absorbs it, responds to it, and acts on it. A strong organisation is not one where everyone agrees, but one where people can disagree without fear and still remain part of the system.

What I witnessed was not perfection, but something more valuable: a willingness to confront problems in real time. That honesty created trust even in disagreement. It showed that accountability does not weaken leadership; it strengthens it. When truth is allowed to surface freely, systems do not collapse. They correct themselves.

Looking back at past meetings I have attended, I realise how much energy is often lost not because people lack effort, but because openness is restricted. Time is spent protecting image instead of solving problems. Effort goes into avoiding discomfort instead of producing clarity. People leave meetings unchanged, only more exhausted.

The alternative is not complicated, but it is demanding in practice: speak clearly, listen fully, address problems directly, and accept that leadership is accountable to those it serves, not above them. These are simple principles that become difficult only when fear and hierarchy dominate the culture.

When people commit to honest engagement, even when it is uncomfortable, the quality of decision-making changes. Conversations become sharper. Outcomes become more grounded. Institutions become more responsive to the people they are meant to serve.

Real change rarely begins with grand declarations. It begins in moments like that conference, where a different standard quietly takes hold: truth is not delayed, accountability is not optional, and leadership is measured not only by authority, but by the willingness to carry responsibility in full view.

Motivation Drops as the Day Begins in Sleepwear

Posted on by Digital Editor

We have all seen the aesthetic. The “work from home” dream usually comes packaged with a plush sofa, a laptop balanced on a pillow, a neatly arranged coffee cup, and someone in an expensive-looking silk pyjama set pretending life has finally been figured out. No traffic. No office politics. No uncomfortable shoes. Just freedom wrapped in soft fabric.

At first glance, it looks ideal. If there is no commute and no boss physically watching over your shoulder, why bother with the ritual of getting ready at all?

Yet there is a quiet danger hidden inside the perpetual pyjama lifestyle. What begins as comfort slowly mutates into stagnation. For many people, the shift is almost invisible until they catch themselves staring at the mirror at 2:00pm, still wearing the same oversized sweatshirt or loose pyjamas they slept in. Their hair has become a chaotic nest. Their skin feels dull. Suddenly, even replying to one email feels emotionally exhausting.

Most of us have an ultimate “home uniform.” It may be an old hoodie, shorts, pyjamas, or a soft Dirac (Diriya) that signals the end of the day. These clothes are designed for rest, which is exactly what makes them so seductive. Once you start working from home or spending long periods indoors, it becomes dangerously easy to let comfort swallow the entire day.

The problem is not laziness, but association.

Psychologists call this phenomenon “enclothed cognition,” a term coined by researchers Hajo Adam and Adam Galinsky. Their study found that participants wearing a white coat believed to belong to a doctor demonstrated stronger focus and attention to detail than those wearing the same coat described as a painter’s smock. The clothing itself did not change. The symbolism attached to it did.

Our brains absorb those signals constantly. Nightwear tells the mind it is time to rest. Old lounge clothes signal comfort, retreat, and emotional shutdown. Those messages work perfectly at night. They become destructive at noon when you are trying to summon motivation, creativity, or focus.

Without realising it, many people working from home keep themselves trapped in what can only be described as a sleep-adjacent state. There is no clear separation between resting and functioning. The boundaries blur until everything feels emotionally heavy.

I realised this recently during one of those strangely unproductive days where nothing felt possible. I was still in my pyjamas long after the morning had disappeared. My hair was undone, my room felt stale, and I could not gather enough energy to focus on anything meaningful. Even tasks I usually enjoy felt irritating. The longer I stayed in that state, the worse I felt.

What struck me later was how much my outward appearance reinforced my inner lethargy. It was not vanity. It was feedback.

There is something uniquely draining about catching a glimpse of yourself looking completely undone. It quietly chips away at your sense of capability. You stop feeling like someone prepared to participate in the world. That feeling creates a cycle psychologists often associate with low self-efficacy, the belief that you are incapable of handling tasks effectively.

This is why changing clothes matters more than people admit. Pulling on fresh trousers, combing your hair, or washing your face may appear insignificant, yet these acts function as small declarations of self-respect. They send a message that you are still engaged with the day and still capable of movement.

For people working remotely, these rituals become even more important because the physical commute no longer exists. In the past, getting dressed, leaving the house, and travelling to work created a psychological transition between the “home self” and the “working self.” Without that separation, clothes become one of the few remaining boundaries left.

Research consistently shows that putting on “day clothes” creates a cognitive shift. It tells the brain the resting phase is over and the active phase has begun.

A shower creates a similar effect. People often reduce showers to hygiene, yet the psychological impact runs much deeper. In clinical psychology, sensory grounding techniques are commonly used to manage anxiety, stress, and emotional fatigue. A hot shower works almost like a built-in grounding exercise. The steam, temperature, and pressure of the water pull the brain away from spiralling thoughts and back into the present moment.

There is also the widely discussed “Shower Effect,” where warm water and a relaxed environment encourage dopamine release and allow the mind to wander more freely. That may explain why people suddenly discover solutions to problems or remember forgotten ideas while shampooing their hair.

After finally forcing myself to shower during that particularly miserable day, the emotional difference was immediate. My problems did not disappear, but I felt reset. It was as though the day had finally started.

Behavioural scientists often speak about “fresh start” moments, such as Mondays or New Year’s Day, periods when people feel psychologically ready for change. What often goes unnoticed is that fresh starts do not need to be tied to the calendar. Sometimes they begin with soap, water, and a clean shirt.

For people navigating modern life largely within the walls of their homes, these small routines matter. They are not shallow acts of appearance management. They are survival tools disguised as ordinary habits.

Some days, motivation will refuse to appear. Yet even on those days, most people can still stand under warm water for five minutes and change into fresh clothes. Those tiny actions represent agency. They prove that mood does not always get the final word.

The next time you find yourself sinking into that strange, unproductive fog, do not wait to “feel” motivated first. Action often arrives before motivation, not after it. You may not always be able to think yourself into a better state of mind, but sometimes, surprisingly enough, you can wash and dress yourself into one.

“It is imperative that another devastating conflict is avoided.”

Posted on by Digital Editor

The European Union’s (EU) Foreign Affairs Spokesperson, Anouar El Anouni, issued a statement on April 30, 2026, voicing the EU’s concerns, calling for immediate de-escalation, and warning against actions that could imperil the Pretoria Deal. The statement came amid rising tensions after the TPLF moved to restore the pre-war political structures in Tigray Regional State, a step that challenged the Interim Administration, led by Tadesse Werede (Lt. Gen.), created under the Pretoria agreement. Days later, the restored regional council elected Debretsion Gebremichael (PhD), the TPLF chairman, as regional president, reviving the political order associated with the disputed 2020 regional election, one of the flashpoints in the breakdown of relations between the federal government and teh TPLF before the civil war.

EIH Transitions to New Headquarters as It Oversees Major State-Owned Enterprises

Posted on by Digital Editor

Ethiopian Investment Holdings (EIH) is relocating its headquarters from its current site on General Wingate Street. The former headquarters was located behind the Ministry of Industry and near Abrehot Library.

The new office is expected to be on Mozambique Street, along the route from Mexico Square to Bulgaria Road. The building belongs to one of EIH’s subsidiaries, and all departments are set to move there as interior design and finishing works continue.

Under the leadership of Brook Taye (PhD), EIH oversees major state-owned enterprises, including Ethiopian Airlines Group, Ethiopian Electric Power, and Ethio telecom. Its portfolio covers 24 audited companies, with total assets reaching about 3.5 trillion Br in 2024.

The Commercial Bank of Ethiopia (CBE) remains the largest entity by assets, valued at about 1.4 trillion Br. The portfolio recorded a net margin of 13.1pc and a return on assets of 2.9pc.

Based on combined revenue of 774 billion Br, the enterprises generated an estimated net profit of about 101.4 billion Br in the 2024 fiscal year. Total liabilities stood at roughly 2.3 trillion Br.

Import Substitution Push Lifts Domestic Manufacturing, Industrial Recovery

Posted on by Digital Editor

A push for import substitution and industrial expansion has prioritised 96 strategic products for local manufacturing.

The “Ethiopia Tamirt” initiative reports 4.85 billion dollars in savings, supported by trade fairs linking local producers to domestic and international markets.

On average, 700 new projects enter the market annually, contributing to more than 2,800 investments over four years. At the grassroots level, 18,000 SMEs have been established, while 993 dormant factories have resumed operations, strengthening employment creation.

Financing has expanded significantly, with SME credit rising from 8.1 billion Br to 50 billion Br, and large-scale industrial lending exceeding 262 billion Br. Infrastructure support includes 3.3 gigawatts of electricity allocation and 2.28 billion dollars in foreign exchange backing.

Raw material supply has grown from nine million to 15 million tonnes annually, improving factory utilisation from 47pc to 67pc.

Federal Housing Corporation, Central Equatoria State Sign Housing Coorporation Deal

Posted on by Digital Editor

The Federal Housing Corporation and the government of Central Equatoria State in South Sudan signed a Memorandum of Understanding in Juba on May 5, 2026, to collaborate on housing development projects covering residential, commercial, and government buildings.

The agreement was signed by Federal Housing Corporation CEO Reshad Kemal (PhD) and Governor Emmanuel Adil.

The deal establishes a framework for joint work in housing construction and urban development in Juba, including the transfer of expertise in housing administration and project implementation. Reshad said the corporation will extend its housing development experience beyond its domestic market, noting a shift from preparation to implementation in its external engagement strategy.

The two sides agreed to form a technical committee to oversee project preparation, documentation, monitoring, and implementation, including design and administrative follow-up.