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Author: Digital Editor

Authorities Target Reckless Driving With Mandatory Retraining

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In a marked departure from traditional deterrents, transport authorities are set to impose a compulsory rehabilitation program for drivers whose licenses are suspended due to serious traffic violations. If successfully implemented, the directive would make driver re-education a condition for reinstatement, shifting road safety enforcement from a punitive to a corrective approach.

Suspended drivers will be barred from operating any vehicle until they complete a mandatory 14-hour rehabilitation program, attending sessions that are two hours each day, over the course of a full week. To regain their driving privileges, they also have to pass a post-training assessment. The entire cost of the training will be borne by the driver, reinforcing personal responsibility for their actions.

The measure is part of a broader push by officials of the Road Safety & Insurance Fund Service to reduce accidents by addressing reckless driving through structured re-education, a departure from relying solely on monetary fines that officials acknowledge have failed as deterrents.

“So far, monetary penalties have done little to correct reckless behaviour,” said Yohannes Lemma, executive director of the Fund. “The training is not only disciplinary. It’s rehabilitative.”

The directive is based on the amended Road Transport Traffic Control Regulation issued by the Council of Ministers in August last year. The regulation identifies specific offences and their corresponding penalties. Causing bodily harm attracts 14 demerit points, resulting in a six-month suspension. Serious bodily injury or a fatality carries 17 demerit points and triggers a one-year suspension. The most severe violation, causing the deaths of two or more individuals, incurs 21 demerit points and leads to a suspension of one year and six months.

According to Yohannes, the new curriculum targets psychological and behavioural transformation, addressing critical areas such as speeding and negligence, which are major contributors to fatal crashes.

The training will include understanding the conditions and causes of road accidents, learning prevention strategies, and exploring both the physical and psychological aspects of driving safely. Modules on safe highway usage, emergency first aid, and basic traffic laws are also incorporated. Drivers will be required to present documented proof of suspension and completed training at accredited centres to regain their licenses.

Vehicle associations and vehicle owners will also bear new responsibilities. Owners are mandated to verify drivers’ records, ensuring that employees have no unresolved suspensions. Associations should monitor their drivers’ compliance, coordinate retraining, and provide administrative support as needed. Yet, many drivers are pushing back, arguing the directive unfairly burdens drivers and associations.

“We’re being punished from every angle,” said Nuredin Ditamo, chairman of Blen Taxi Owners Association.

He described the directive as “repeated, humiliating” and criticised the requirement, claiming it treats professional drivers like delinquents. According to Nuredin, associations often know the vehicle owners, not individual drivers, which complicates compliance enforcement.

Abebaw Kassa, chairman of the 500-member Tsehay Taxi Owners Association, echoed the frustrations.

“I don’t even know my demerit points,” he said. “Broader educational efforts, rather than costly punitive measures, would be a better solution.”

Drivers are also critical of the officials’ intentions to enforce the directive. Yohannes Mulugeta, a taxi driver with a decade of experience, believes drivers are unfairly penalised twice.

“If we pay the fine, why must we also shoulder a costly training?” he wondered. “It feels like double jeopardy.”

While acknowledging the need for safer roads, Yohannes worries about the financial strain on drivers already earning limited incomes.

Despite opposition, city officials say they are determined to pursue the directive, pressing for coordinated action. Kebebew Midekisa, director general of the Addis Abeba Traffic Management Authority, called for active involvement from all stakeholders to curb road fatalities, which decreased slightly from 408 deaths two years ago to 401 last year. However, injuries surged by 35pc since the 2020 and 2021 period, primarily affecting pedestrians.

Pedestrians made up 86pc of all traffic fatalities in the 2023/24 fiscal year. The Megenagna area was identified as the city’s most dangerous location, with 13 pedestrian deaths recorded. Private cars and vans each accounted for a quarter of pedestrian deaths, while heavy trucks made up another quarter. Vans seating between 12 and 16 passengers caused more than 400 injuries last year alone, and automobiles caused 677 injuries. Young males aged between 20 and 39 accounted for 45pc of the fatalities, with speeding blamed in nearly half of all deadly accidents.

“More cars don’t have to mean more casualties,” said Yohannes, citing a public awareness campaign launched by the Fund, which pointed at drivers’ error as the primary cause in 68pc of traffic accidents nationwide. Last year alone, Ethiopia imported 67,633 vehicles, coinciding with 46,571 recorded traffic accidents, resulting in an average of nine fatalities daily.

Experts are not in agreement about the directive. Abiy Alene, a transport expert lecturing at Kotebe Metropolitan College, criticised the authorities’ assumption that drivers alone are responsible for accidents.

“This is a simplistic framing,” he said. “Roads lack proper crossings and signage, and are equally hazardous.”

Abiy also expressed doubts about the training’s one-size-fits-all approach, arguing that it fails to address the varied causes behind driver errors adequately. He pressed for differentiated training, tailored to specific deficiencies, such as behavioural issues against technical skills gaps.

“Otherwise, this will simply add more pressure on an already burdened group,” he warned.

The authorities, however, stand by their position, viewing the directive as crucial to changing driver behaviour and ultimately saving lives.

“Speed is a silent killer,” Yohannes reiterated. “Several accidents occur not due to poor roads but because drivers miscalculate their control at high speeds.”

Feds Push for Product Prestige While Global Market Profits Elude Local Producers

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Federal authorities are pushing ahead with an ambitious plan to institutionalise Geographical Indications (GIs), a legal framework designed to link product quality and origin. Launched through a partnership between the Ethiopian Intellectual Property Authority (EIPA) and the World Intellectual Property Organisation (WIPO), the initiative marks a landmark moment for Ethiopia’s export strategy and rural development.

According to Innovation & Technology Minister, Belete Molla, geographical indications go beyond mere legal classifications. They serve as strategic development tools that leverage identity-based branding to spur economic transformation. Woldu Yimesel, director of the EIPA, reinforced the Minister’s message, stating that GI certification could open new trade routes, enhance product pricing, and promote job creation locally.

The Authority handles most GI-related work, and provides training and awareness programs involving multiple intersted parties, which are planned after the legal groundwork is completed.

The two-day conference held last week at the Skylight Hotel, on Africa Avenue (Bole Road), brought together local producers, policymakers, business leaders, and international experts to discuss a path toward implementing a comprehensive Geographical Indication (GI) protection system. Participants reviewed a draft proclamation for GI, a legal framework defining clear distinctions between geographical indications and trademarks. The bill would establish collective and non-transferable rights, introduce formal opposition and appeals processes, and mandate detailed specifications to guarantee consistent product quality and traceability.

GI certification ensures that a product’s quality, reputation, or other notable characteristics are directly linked to its geographical source. Globally recognised products, such as Champagne from France, Parmigiano Reggiano cheese from Italy, and Darjeeling tea from India, illustrate the benefits, with these items typically commanding price premiums of up to 50pc higher due to GI protection.

Goods such as Yirgacheffe coffee, Adaa Teff, honey from Tigray Regional State, spices, and traditional hand-woven textiles are prime candidates for GI certification.

Experts argue that GI certification could boost the pricing power of producers, build lasting brand loyalty, and improve global competitiveness. These protections can stimulate rural tourism, attracting visitors interested in authentic cultural and agro-tourism experiences tied closely to the products’ geographic origins.

However, despite its promising potential, the aspiration toward a fully functioning GI system is not without problems. Sisay Bogale, chairperson of the Gamo Farmers Fruit & Vegetable Cooperative Union, identified critical obstacles such as high transportation costs and inadequate structured monitoring, both of which could compromise the full realisation of GI benefits.

According to Adugna Debela, director general of the Ethiopian Coffee & Tea Authority (ECTA), existing difficulties in clearly identifying and differentiating coffee beans produced in geographically adjacent regions may lead to consumer confusion.

Others view the GI system as an essential strategy to rebalance power dynamics within the coffee market, reducing monopolies and addressing the role of middlemen.

“We haven’t met all the requirements yet,” admitted Hussein Ambo, president of the Ethiopian National Coffee Association (ENCA), praising ongoing research collaborations with academic institutions.

Hawassa University is developing precise specifications for Sidama Coffee, with similar efforts underway at Jimma, Haromaya, and Dembi Dolo universities for coffees from their respective regions. According to Hussien, each specification book is detailed and tailored to ensure product authenticity. However, he is troubled by the issue of “widespread mislabeling,” whereby sellers inaccurately market coffees from one region as originating from another.

“While exporters and traders can operate freely,” he said, “they should act transparently and ethically.”

The Oromia Coffee Farmers’ Cooperative Union (OCFCU), representing over half a million farmers, has independently pursued certifications based on organic practices and specific geographic locations. Its General Manager, Dejene Dadi, disclosed that the certifications are not part of the formal GI framework, but they have helped the Union access international markets. He acknowledged that for a cooperative as large as OCFCU, the cost and effort involved in GI registration would be carefully considered, especially in the short term.

Dejene identified climate change and increasing labour costs as ongoing barriers.

Yet, many believe that legal infrastructure would not be sufficient. Lidet Abebe, an intellectual property lawyer, noted that Ethiopia already has established laws covering trademarks, copyrights, and patents. According to her, there is a need to study successful international examples of GI systems to enhance enforcement capabilities.

“The law gives producers the right to fight misuse and counterfeiting,” she said. “But, without local enforcement capacity, these rights are difficult to exercise.”

The experts dealing with intellectual property rights acknowledged persistent gaps. While they argue that awareness and technical consultations are improving, adherence to precise specifications remains inconsistent among some producers, which risks compromising quality assurance and credibility. For Tadesse Worku, lead executive on geographical indications at the EIPA, the issue is not limited to registering products.

“It’s about upholding the standards that justify GI status,” he said.

Another expert at the EIPA, Samson Tesfaye, a trademark examiner, stated the need for improved public understanding of the distinctions between trademarks and geographical indications. Unlike trademarks, which are individually owned, GIs represent a collective regional identity that cannot be bought or sold.

WIPO’s Alexandra Grazioli sees Ethiopia’s considerable potential, attributing the importance of a robust GI system to protecting the country’s global brand identity, reducing reputational risks, and shielding producers from imitation. According to Grazioli, effective GI labelling requires products to bear their place of origin explicitly, with intrinsic qualities inseparably linked to that locale.

Banks Split on Dollar Bids as Birr Slips from Policy Grip

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The foreign exchange market looked calm last week, yet its surface stability masked growing tensions among the commercial banks. Buying prices for the Green Buck clustered tightly around 131.95 Br, while average selling prices were near 134.60 Br.

Most banks barely budged from those levels, signalling a conservative posture that industry observers say reflected either regulatory guidance or plain caution.

Outliers, however, told a different story.

Oromia Bank, yet again, set the pace at the high end, posting an average selling rate of 134.73 Br, far above the industry’s average and the Central Bank’s weighted average. Three of the big private banks – Awash, Wegagen and the Bank of Abyssinia – alongside their youngest peers – Hijira and ZamZam banks – strayed from the pack, demonstrating a willingness to pay up for scarce dollars or to lure retail customers dissatisfied with more conservative contenders such as the state-owned Commercial Bank of Ethiopia (CBE).

In the background, the National Bank of Ethiopia (NBE) held its seventh weekly auction since it rolled out a managed-float strategy in August last year. The Central Bank offered 50 million dollars; only 12 commercial banks bid, down from 16 in the previous auction. The weighted average clearing rate landed at 134.95 Br to the dollar.

Analysts see that figure less as an anchor than as a signpost, a rough indication of where policymakers would like the market to drift.

However, the auction’s influence had limits. On Saturday, Oromia Bank quoted a buying rate of 134.65 Br, 30 cents below the auction average but a hefty 3.20 Br above the week’s industry buying average of 131.45 Br. Its top-selling quote reached 137.34 Br. The Bank’s persistent high-side posturing pointed to an aggressive bid to meet dollar demand, a sign that Oromia Bank’s executives may be scrambling to honour obligations to correspondent banks.

At the opposite end, the CBE acted almost as a brake on depreciation. Its average buying rate for the week sat at 131.01 Br, and its selling rate at 133.63 Br, both of which were the lowest on the board.

Between those poles lies a middle tier of private banks — Wegagen, Bank of Abyssinia, Awash, Hijira and Zamzam — that nudged their buying prices past 132 Br. Their approach appears calibrated. They are close enough to the Central Bank’s guidepost to remain credible, yet flexible enough to secure supply when client demand spikes. Their convergence indicated that a pragmatic bloc is emerging, one that strikes a balance between competitiveness and risk.

Lower-volatility players, such as Debub Global, Buna, and Cooperative Bank of Oromia (Coop Bank), formed a third group. They kept movements minimal through the six-day window, with standard deviations so small they nearly vanished from statistical charts. Analysts see these banks as the market’s stabilisers. Whether constrained by thin liquidity or internal risk caps, they offered predictability at the cost of flexibility, rarely tweaking quotes even when others moved.

The week’s median numbers displayed that stratification: 131.95 Br for buying, and 134.6 Br for selling. While mid-tier banks drifted gently toward the auction average, Oromia’s elevated bids and CBE’s subdued offers stretched the market’s range.

There are now three market layers. At the top, aggressive buyers, such as Oromia Bank, pay premiums that indicate either dollar shortages or sizable external commitments. In the middle, an adaptable cluster responds to the policy signals while juggling client orders. At the bottom, public and risk-averse lenders stay inert, moving only when forced.

United Bank and Development Bank of Ethiopia (DBE) exhibited minute day-to-day swings, signalling tight reins on their currency positions. High-volatility names, adjusted for obvious data errors, hinted at operational flux, either hurried adjustments to liquidity gaps or deliberate tactical moves to ride small price waves.

The Central Bank’s weekly auctions were designed to guide expectations as the forex market inches from a fixed-rate past toward a managed float. But the widening gap between the auction’s weighted average and retail quotes, sometimes more than three Birr, shows the guideposts alone cannot force convergence.

For a Brewed Buck on a gentle depreciation path, these differences matter. If the gap between high-end bids and official auction levels keeps widening, it could undermine the Central Bank’s credibility and tip the Birr into a faster slide. If auctions begin to attract broader participation and larger volumes, the midpoint could stiffen, reining in the outliers.

For now, the Brewed Buck’s value is being discovered less through collective alignment than through quiet divergence. Each bank appears to be making its own call on dollar scarcity, customer needs, and policy risk. The auction provides a reference, but the market’s real work happens in the gaps where Oromia bids boldly, CBE sits back, and everyone else decides how close to skate to the edge.

In a managed float, price discovery is supposed to be orderly. Last week’s market showed it is anything but.

Where the Roof Overhead Comes with a Ceiling on Hope

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Few promises shine brighter in Addis Abeba than the pledge of a roof for every family. Gleaming office blocks now punctuate horizons once defined by tin-roof shacks, yet the capital’s housing gap keeps widening.

More than five million people, according to the city administration’s official projection, reside in the city, and a growing share live in informal dwellings.

Officials insist relief is coming, but the latest scheme, a headline-grabbing pledge of 120 billion Br from the state-owned Commercial Bank of Ethiopia (CBE) to finance homes for members of the public service, with teachers first in line, risks repeating an old pattern. Grand announcements that collapse under arithmetic.

The plan’s optics were striking. Abie Sano, CBE’s president, stood beside Kidist Woldegiorgis, who runs the city’s Housing Development & Administration Bureau, to unveil a memorandum promising cheap mortgages and “affordable housing” that would “uplift public servants.”

However, beneath the fanfare, the sums tell a harsher tale. The cost-sharing formula assumes buyers put down one-quarter of the price while lenders and subsidies cover the balance. On that basis, the CBE would bankroll 75pc of the construction for about 30,000 units, each costing roughly four million Birr.

A prospective buyer should therefore raise one million Birr upfront. This alone bars most teachers, who take home barely 10,000 Br a month. Even if they somehow scrape together the deposit, equivalent to about eight years of untouched salary, the remaining mortgage is still punishing. At a 14pc rate over 20 years, monthly repayments top 35,500 Br, more than triple a typical teacher’s income.

The gulf between pay cheques and payment transforms a supposed lifeline into a mirage.

Such disconnects are not new. Successive leaders, from Mengistu Hailemariam (Col.) to Meles Zenawi and Hailemariam Desalegn, have long tried to marry ambitious public housing projects with modest fiscal means. What is new is the scale of the problem.

Population growth, rapid urbanisation, double-digit inflation, and a weakening Birr have deepened pressures on shelter. Last year, consumer prices rose above 30pc and the market value of the Birr against the dollar slid by over 140pc since mid-last year.

Depressingly, public-sector wages barely moved. For many civil servants, housing already devours more than half of their earnings. They now face billion-Birr promises they cannot use.

Informal builders have always been on the sidelines. Across Africa, more than 70pc of new housing is erected outside formal systems, and Addis Abeba fits the rule. Rotating savings groups, such as “Equb,” remittances, and hand-to-hand loans, finance incremental construction.

The process is often opaque and expensive, yet it is faster and more responsive than formal credit channels. More than 800,000 people are on a waiting list for city-run flats, some of whom have been waiting for over a decade. Private developers, meanwhile, court the wealthy with units starting at 10 million Birr, placing even dual-income households beyond reach.

Mortgage systems are thin, and small interest-rate moves lock out swathes of buyers. The authorities’ pinning their hopes on commercial loans to fix a structural shortage is thus doubly perilous.

Other countries offer hints of what might help, drawing from two key ingredients: realistic financing and deliberate inclusion.

The state could target the hardest barrier, which is the down payment. A housing equity fund, financed by urban development bonds or concessional loans from partners such as the World Bank or the African Development Bank (AfDB), could provide deposits for teachers, nurses, and members of law enforcement.

Interest-rate subsidies or public guarantees could halve borrowing costs. At six percent over 20 years, monthly payments on a three million Birr loan drop to about 21,500 Br, still steep, but less ruinous than 35,500 Br. Policy should nurture cooperative housing and rent-to-own models that convert rent into equity over time, easing entry into ownership.

Developers, too, need incentives. Density bonuses, swift permitting, tax holidays, and grants of public land could coax firms to build below set price ceilings. Well-designed carrots cost money; nonetheless, they can be cheaper than the social cost of overcrowded slums and festering discontent.

Without them, the formal market will continue to target the tiny slice of households that can pay cash.

Any solution should also take into account land, which is scarce inside Addis Abeba’s city centre but plentiful on its outskirts. Transparent auctions, digitised registries, and predictable zoning rules would curb speculation and cut costs.

Yet money and maps alone will not suffice to address the housing policy, which straddles fiscal and monetary realms. The National Bank of Ethiopia (NBE) has juggled currency weakness and inflation; its cautious loosening this year offers space to align home-loan rates with social objectives.

But prudence is vital to avoid the likely situation where subsidised credit swells a new bubble. A coordinated push, combining cheaper finance, land reform, and incentives for builders, would be bolder than any single billion-Birr pledge.

With Addis Abeba growing by about four percent a year, the risk of inaction is mounting. The city’s dualism — formal aspiration against informal reality — grows starker. Commercial lending cannot bridge such a structural chasm. Each delay entrenches informal sprawl, strains water and power networks, and leaves newcomers in ever more precarious shelters.

Addis Abeba does not lack land, labour or demand. It lacks a housing finance system tailored to its social objectives.

City officials should be more aware of this. Although Kidist insisted the loans were “free from excessive interest charges,” the data reveal otherwise. A scheme that sets entry costs at eight years’ salary and monthly repayments at three times the income is not generous; it is exclusion dressed as inclusion.

Until it is redesigned, her scheme will deepen frustration among the very workers she pledged to reward.

Housing matters far more than shelter. It anchors families, encourages mobility, and buffers inflation. In a country where the cost of living is rising and public wages are either stagnant or lagging, access to a modest flat signals dignity and a stake in the city. When that promise fails, trust frays.

Finance Minister Ahmed Shedie and Central Bank Governor Mamo Mihretu can still salvage their administration’s credibility by matching policy with arithmetic. That means scrapping symbolic mortgages and embracing more demanding tasks, such as lowering rates, backing cooperatives, and compelling developers to build more affordably.

Other countries have shown that careful design, aided by technology and fiscal discipline, can bring homes within the reach of millions. Ethiopia’s contemporary leaders can learn from them.

The alternative appears clear. Waitlists that stretch past a million names, informal settlements that sprawl, and a middle class priced out of its capital. To build houses, the state should first create a system that works for its people. And trust, like shelter, is laid brick by brick, never by a memorandum of understanding.

The Gig Economy’s Serfdom with WiFi

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When a muggy Tuesday dawns in Addis Abeba, a young driver unlocks a ride-hailing app and hopes, silently, for steady passengers and a generous surge. The compact sedan feels like his own, although the bank holds the title. He sets his hours, or thinks he does, before settling into another 13-hour shift of horns, heat and nasal electronic pings. He would tell riders he is “his own boss,” an idea that evaporates when the algorithm insists otherwise.

Addis Abeba hosts more than 30 ride-hailing platforms. They arranged upward of 90,000 trips a day in 2022, the latest available data, at average fares of nearly 300 Br. Roughly 30,000 to 40,000 drivers chase those trips, earning about 1,400 Br a day before fuel, data, repairs and bank payments. That is above the national average but falls short of a middle-class income once costs are settled.

Welcome back to an older order. In medieval Europe, serfs worked fields they did not own in return for the protection they seldom received. In 2025, platform workers labour in digital estates that no one can see and few can question. The stone castles have shrunk into cloud servers, and the lords now speak in software.

The industry advertises freedom, but the shimmer fades on close look. Choosing when to work is not the same as deciding how much to earn, nor does “opting in” create bargaining clout. It is medieval economics dressed for the smartphone age.

Flexibility, the pitch goes, equals liberty. In practice, it means remaining on call, waiting for jobs that may arrive late and pay little. Decline too many rides, and the “acceptance rate” drops. Drive a touch slower or misunderstand a passenger, and the star rating sinks. The rating screen works like a steward of old, noting conduct and handing out rewards or punishments with no debate. If a driver crashes, the risk is his. Perform poorly, or merely appear to, and the app can deactivate the account without notice and without appeal. Workers are labelled “independent contractors” until something goes wrong; then they become cautionary tales.

In the Middle Ages, peasants laboured on a lord’s land and paid rent in crops and loyalty. Present-day drivers obtain access to customers through apps, surrendering a slice of their income, torrents of personal data, and nearly all of their leverage. Platforms provide no cars, fuel or insurance; they supply only a portal. Workers shoulder the liability while the platform claims the heftiest share.

Most apps retain around 10pc of each fare, and food-delivery platforms often take a higher percentage. They refine routes, automate pricing and harvest rich user data, yet offer no benefits. There is no sick leave, accident insurance or pension. The labour code, designed for factory floors and office towers, provides gig workers with scant protection. Many drivers operate without tax licenses, and only a handful of platforms withhold the standard 30pc withholding tax.

Even then, drivers say they rarely see clear statements and have little guidance on recovering deductions or confirming what the government receives.

The appeal endures because choices are few. The youth bulge keeps urban unemployment around 20pc, and smartphone ownership grows each quarter. For many, gig work is not an opportunity, but a means of survival. Freelancers who find projects abroad often rely on services like Payoneer, while PayPal remains out of reach. Banking fees, slow transfers and withdrawal limits nibble at already thin margins.

Yet, the sector remains small. Most Ethiopians lack a suitable handset, a strong data plan and a private workspace. Even among those who qualify, earnings fluctuate so widely that budgeting becomes a matter of guesswork. Risk stays local; reward floats to the cloud.

There is irony in the exchange. Today’s workers do not till soil but mine information. Every ride, route and review feeds the code that controls them. Medieval serfs could not read the charters that bound them; modern drivers cannot inspect proprietary software. Data becomes capital for the platform, while the people who generate it stay in subsistence mode. They have no shares, no co-ownership, and most unsettling, no say. Ratings flash, stress mounts, and user agreements gather digital dust, unread and uninfluenced.

The young driver ends his shift long after dusk, pockets lighter than expected once he settles fuel and loan payments. He would wake tomorrow before dawn, open the same app and hope again for a run of strong fares. Freedom lingers in the marketing copy, but out on the street, it remains as elusive as any medieval dream.

Saving A Thousand Mathiwoses

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I was barely 18 in 1994 and just beginning my freshman year at Addis Abeba University when a friend asked me to accompany her on an errand to the nearby St. Mary Cathedral. The seat of the Ethiopian Orthodox Patriarchate, this church is to Ethiopia what San Pietro is to the Vatican, a spiritual and historical anchor. That was the only time I entered its sacred grounds, with its towering old trees, austere architecture, and the quiet weight of decades of devotion.

As my friend prayed, I sat on a garden bench, surrounded by the cool shade and the scent of flowers and incense. The warm evening air and chirping birds lent a tranquil mood that matched the spiritual setting. When she returned, her face bore a quiet serenity and relief, as if she had unburdened herself before the divine. I could sense something heavy had been lifted off her chest.

Later, we walked through the serene pathways near the freshman dorms. She was transformed, laughing, lighthearted, and playful. As we strolled beneath the tall juniper trees, she asked me to carry her. I did, and we laughed like children. I did not know then that this lighthearted evening would be the last time I saw her truly happy.

Just weeks later, she was hospitalised with a sudden and severe illness. She was diagnosed with late-stage leukemia, a word I had never heard before. It progressed with shocking speed, leaving doctors and family scrambling. Chemotherapy failed. Blood transfusions every two weeks became routine. After months of physical torment and emotional exhaustion, she passed away. We were devastated. She was kind, gentle, and far too young for such a fate.

Nearly three decades later fate struck again, this time closer to home. A close relative, whom I considered an aunt, died of cancer last year. Her only son, a longtime resident in Germany, devoted his energy and resources in a bid to salvage her life. I often visited her, as we lived nearby and was very much attached. The final stages of her illness were marked by helplessness and pain, and when she passed, we were all left shaken. Her son, who relied on her for emotional and practical support, faced a lonely reckoning.

But there was no time to mourn her for long. The same aunt who had cared for his mother was absent during the customary 80-day grieving period. It turned out she was quietly tending to her own son, my cousin, who had been diagnosed with prostate cancer in his early 30s. A disease typically seen in older men had found him young and full of life. She poured everything she had into his treatment: time, money, and travel.

Most of us only found out when it was too late. Last weekend, news of his death landed like a bombshell. We were blindsided. Another bright soul had been extinguished by this silent, relentless killer.

A couple of years ago, my brother’s close friend also lost her battle with cervical cancer. Despite the toll it took, her thinning hair, weakened body, and failing strength, she kept her spirits high. I once naively offered to take her for a walk in the Addis-Ethiopia-Africa Park. Her face lit up, but my brother gently reminded me of the reality: her body simply could not manage it. I clung to hope, blinded by her optimism. When she passed a few weeks later, I was crushed.

Cancer is increasingly taking center stage in the global health crisis. According to “Our World in Data,” cancer accounted for 15.5pc of all deaths in 2021. Between 1980 and 2021, cancer mortality rose steadily across all age groups, in line with global population growth. This has placed immense pressure on health systems, families, and communities.

Ethiopia mirrors this global trend. A 2022 report in Nature estimated 53,560 new cancer cases and 39,480 deaths in Ethiopia in 2019 alone. Between 2010 and 2019, cancer incidence rose by 32pc, deaths by 29pc, and disability-adjusted life years (DALYs) by 19pc. Even after adjusting for age, these numbers continue to climb.

A friend who lost her mother to cancer once told me that the triggers are wide-ranging: chronic stress, poor diet, additives in food and cosmetics, environmental toxins, and more. The World Health Organisation defines cancer as a group of diseases caused by abnormal cell growth, capable of invading tissues and spreading through metastasis. It is as complex in origin as it is devastating in outcome.

This same friend has since joined the Mathiwos Wondu Ye-Ethiopia Cancer Society, a local nonprofit founded by a father who lost his son, Mathiwos, to cancer. Instead of retreating into grief, Wondu Bekele created an organisation that mobilises global and local resources to support families, especially women and children, facing cancer.

Since its founding, the organisation has supported 1,860 pediatric and women cancer patients. Currently, it houses and cares for 86 children and 91 women undergoing treatment, many of whom receive care at the Black Lion Hospital. The organisation provides accommodation not just for the patients, but also their caregivers, parents and siblings, who would otherwise have nowhere to stay.

My friend and I visited their facility, which is located near the British Embassy. We were overwhelmed by the warmth and care radiating from the children and staff. Despite their condition, the kids smiled and played. The staff, led by Haymanot Nigussie (MD) psychosocial centre coordinator, Lemma  Ayele operational manager, and other professionals, created a homely environment that uplifted even the weariest hearts.

It is noteworthy that the Foundation also provides accommodation for caregivers, often parents or siblings, while the children undergo treatment at Black Lion Hospital. These young patients receive chemotherapy and follow-up care from dedicated oncologists in the pediatric ward. I was deeply humbled by the noble cause Wondu has undertaken almost single-handedly.

Moved by his commitment, I decided to join the association and do all I can to support his mission as a lifelong member and devoted supporter. Wondu’s vow to save “a thousand Mathiwoses” despite losing his own child was not mere rhetoric. It is being lived out every day in that compound. His foundation has spent two decades giving hope, dignity, and a fighting chance to those the world might otherwise forget.

In a world overwhelmed by tragedy, the Mathiwos Wondu Foundation is a testament to love turned into action, and grief transformed into a lifeline.

How Africa Should Negotiate with Trump

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In a recent interview, Fox News anchor Bret Baier asked Felix Tshisekedi, the president of the Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC), how his government would balance continued ties with the United States, including the negotiation of a critical minerals deal, with its deepening relationship with China. The DRC President responded that China’s influence is not so much “waxing” in Africa as America’s influence is “waning.”

Tshisekedi is right. In 2000, the US was Africa’s largest trading partner; today, China’s total trade with Africa is more than four times larger than that of the US. Two US-Africa Leaders’ Summits have been held, in 2014 and 2022, and there is no date set for a third, although Congress passed legislation late last year that would compel President Donald Trump to convene a summit this year and every two years thereafter.

Meanwhile, China is preparing to convene its 10th summit with African leaders, through the Forum on China-Africa Cooperation, in 2027. A Gallup poll published last year showed that, for the first time, China’s approval rating in Africa (58pc) had surpassed that of the US (56pc).

Speaking to Baier, Tshisekedi pointed out that the DRC would be “very happy” to see a renewed US commercial presence there. But Trump’s trade policies could have the opposite outcome. And persistent reports that the Trump Administration plans to reduce the number of US embassies and consulates in Africa will only add to this decline in influence.

For the last 25 years, the cornerstone of America’s commercial relationship with Africa has been the African Growth & Opportunity Act (AGOA), a non-reciprocal trade agreement that allows more than 6,000 African products into the US, without duties or quotas. Between 2001 and 2022, African AGOA members exported more than 100 billion dollars worth of non-crude goods to the US. The trade was always supposed to be one-way, but that does not mean it did not benefit US companies, such as Levi’s, Gap, and Walmart, and consumers.

The AGOA was designed to help Africa transform its manufacturing base, thereby shifting the basis of its relationship with the US from aid to trade, a goal that one might expect the Trump Administration, which has slashed foreign aid programs, to support. Participation was conditioned on African governments’ promotion of political pluralism, good governance, and economic liberalisation. And studies have shown that trade with the US increases value-added production, labour productivity, and labour demand in Africa.

But, early last month, Trump introduced “reciprocal” tariffs on many African countries, with some of the AGOA’s strongest performers facing the highest rates: Lesotho (50pc), Madagascar (47pc), and Mauritius (40pc). The 17 African countries that are ineligible for AGOA benefits, mainly due to poor governance, were effectively rewarded with far lower tariffs.

Trump suspended most of these tariffs almost immediately, opening a 90-day window to strike new trade deals. And, to some extent, he is getting what he wanted, with AGOA countries scrambling to salvage their preferential access to the US market. Lesotho, for example, granted Trump ally Elon Musk’s Starlink a 10-year license to operate its satellite network in the country.

Nonetheless, Trump’s tariffs are unlikely to deliver quick wins for the US. Already, African trade ministers have agreed to fast-track policies that will promote trade within the continent, as well as diversify exports to reduce their countries’ dependence on particular foreign markets. Add to that the shuttering of the US Agency for International Development (USAID) and the Millennium Challenge Corporation, the closure of Voice of America (VOA), and the lapse of the President’s Emergency Plan for AIDS Relief, and America’s footprint in Africa is shrinking fast.

But, there is a way for Africa to leverage the US administration’s interests to the benefit of both sides. Trump’s top priority in Africa is securing access to critical minerals. This makes countries like the DRC, which boasts the world’s richest copper deposits and four of the world’s five largest cobalt mines, as well as Gabon, Zambia, South Africa, and even Chad, strategically important. The US is already in talks over a minerals deal with the DRC and others.

The only problem is that China is far ahead of the US on this front.

Chinese state-owned companies and banks control 80pc of the DRC’s cobalt production, and 60pc to 90pc of the world’s cobalt supply is refined in China, whereas the US produces less than one percent of the world’s cobalt. This imbalance drove the former US President Joe Biden’s Administration to develop the Lobito Corridor initiative, to expand the 800-mile rail line that extends from the Angolan port of Lobito on Africa’s Atlantic coast through the mineral-rich DRC to Zambia.

This initiative, for which the Trump Administration has signalled its support,  will upgrade African infrastructure by establishing partnerships between the US, African governments, African-led financing agencies such as the Africa Finance Corporation, and the European Union. However, African countries should do more to ensure that any critical minerals agreement provides a genuine boost to their economies, especially by insisting that some value-added production occurs on the continent.

To complement access to Africa’s critical minerals, the US should also commit to processing them and adding value on the continent, for example, making cobalt into battery precursors before export. Since Chinese companies have shown no interest in doing this, such an exchange would position the US as a more valuable partner, thereby ensuring its long-term access to these vital resources. Given that Africa has all the minerals needed for production, spread across more than 10 countries in Central and Southern Africa, the development of local processing capabilities would also be consistent with the goals of the African Continental Free Trade Area (AfCFTA).

Africa and the US are both seeking to strengthen their manufacturing sectors, but this is not a zero-sum game. On the contrary, by agreeing to help strengthen Africa’s industrial capabilities, the US could gain greater access to resources its own industry needs, reverse the decline of its commercial influence on the continent, and contribute to the revival of wider, mutually beneficial trade. This could lead to more balanced current accounts, just as Trump desires.

Making Sense of the New Global Economy

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As the world becomes more volatile and confusing, policymakers, business leaders, and investors will need to rethink the mental models they use to analyse the global economy. Specifically, they should pay attention to three structural dynamics that are altering the global landscape: capital flows, demographic shifts, and political ideology, which are ushering in a more fragmented and siloed world.

Changes to capital flows are driven largely by regulatory requirements (such as the US ban on investments in China) and investors’ pursuit of new opportunities for higher returns across sectors and regions. The United States currently represents nearly 70pc of stock-market capitalisation worldwide, attracting more than 70pc of flows into the 13 trillion dollars global market for private investments, which include equity and credit. This is true despite the recent sell-off.

The US stock market is where investors can generate the most attractive returns, as the US is a global leader in innovation with broad, liquid, and deep capital markets.

But global debt has reached 237pc of world GDP, raising concerns about who owns outstanding liabilities and the extent to which there is hidden leverage in the global financial system. The US government alone owes 36 trillion dollars (or 124pc of GDP), a large proportion of which is held by China, with which relations are strained.

Hidden leverage and the shadow banking sector’s debts could become a problem. According to S&P Global, shadow banks held 63 trillion dollars in financial assets at the end of 2022, representing 78pc of global GDP. And, further analysis has also shown that in 2024, shadow banking accounted for 70pc of US mortgage origination and leveraged lending. Investors and business leaders will need to ask themselves who holds what debt, and where debt obligations and major pools of financial leverage may lie.

The second big worry concerns demographics. The global population continues to grow at a rapid clip, with the United Nations (UN) forecasting that there will 11.2 billion people by 2100, up from 8.1 billion now. Already, almost 90pc of the world’s population lives in poorer emerging markets, and economically poorer regions – such as Africa, India, and the Middle East – are projected to experience population growth at or above the replacement rate of 2.1 children per woman.

Thus, these regions will continue to skew younger. Across Africa, 50pc to 60pc of the population is below the age of 25, compared to only 20pc across the OECD.

Other countries are aging rapidly and registering lower birth rates, with forecasts for Europe and China pointing to marked population declines. According to Eurostat, the European Union’s population is projected to peak at 453.3 million in 2026, before gradually decreasing to 419.5 million by 2100. According to UN data, China’s population is expected to decline below 800 million by 2100, from its current level of 1.4 billion.

Such trends have far-reaching implications for global demand and production across a wide array of commodities such as foodstuffs and energy. For example, India, with its large, poorer population, is still heavily dependent on coal and fossil fuels, as compared to renewables.

Demographic changes will also alter financial portfolios as aging populations switch from being capitalists (willing to take on risk) to rentiers (desiring stable, predictable fixed incomes). But markets will also have to calibrate for unprecedented intergenerational wealth transfers from baby boomers to millennials. Cerulli Associates estimates that this could amount to 84 trillion dollars by 2045.

Finally, the ideological splits across countries and regions should be factored in. The breakdown of multilateralism and the fragmentation of trade, capital flows, migration, and ideas are all being priced in, and policymakers and business leaders will have to keep these trends in mind. America’s largest multinationals still generate more than half of their revenues outside the US. But they now need to consider what strained US alliances and traditional trading relationships will mean for their businesses.

For business more broadly, deglobalisation has forced a shift toward more centralised procurement, hiring, and trade in goods and services. It is also jeopardising carry trades (borrowing cheaply in New York and London to invest in higher-yielding regions) and making it harder to repatriate profits.

In the near term, the Trump administration’s tariffs and deportations could affect salaries and fuel higher inflation in consumer goods, wages, and prices across sectors. Higher inflation, moreover, will likely drive up the cost of capital, which could suppress business investment. Over the long term, deglobalisation and technological advances – such as AI and quantum computing – will further entrench today’s ideological splits.

Geopolitical fissures have already raised big political questions. There is a tug of war between state capitalism and market capitalism, and over the reconfiguration of alliances and country groupings. New blocs, such as the BRICS+, are vying for global influence and seeking to circumvent traditional multilateral institutions. The BRICS+ countries already represent 45pc of the world’s population and 35pc of its GDP, and they are playing a growing role in the pricing and trade of many internationally traded goods and commodities.

Such developments are making it harder for countries to achieve global alignment; even previously celebrated efforts like the United Nations Climate Change Conferences have been hobbled.

As global growth slows, trade, finance, religion, energy, AI, and immigration are all being weaponised, leading to much greater complexity that will make it harder to anticipate policy outcomes. As a practical matter, added complexity and reduced visibility will likely shorten the time horizons for crucial decisions about allocating capital and human resources.

Rather than looking five years ahead, typically assumed to be the length of an economic or business cycle, investors, business leaders, and policymakers may need to think more in terms of the next 18 months. Amid so much volatility, decision-makers will have to focus on adaptability. No one can afford to commit to long-term strategies based on regulatory, geopolitical, or economic conditions that might change overnight.

The Global South Should Rewrite Climate Script on Its Terms

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When climate change is framed as a global problem requiring collective regulation of greenhouse-gas emissions, developing-country governments see little reason to prioritise the issue over others. After all, the rich, industrialised countries that contributed disproportionately to the problem are themselves backing away from decarbonisation and climate-finance commitments, while low-income countries bear the brunt of the costs of climate change.

Decision-makers in developing countries understandably conclude it may be more rational to hunker down and focus on climate resilience rather than emissions reductions.

But this is not the only way to frame the problem. While climate change undoubtedly poses a global collective-action problem, in practice, climate outcomes are shaped by myriad decisions concerning development objectives such as industrial development, urbanisation, job creation, and local pollution management. Because late developers often have not entirely locked into energy systems, transport infrastructure, urbanisation plans, and energy consumption patterns, they have greater flexibility to steer investment and consumption choices toward lower-carbon and climate-resilient options.

The climate challenge can be framed as a choice among alternative development pathways. In many cases, development choices are also climate choices. In a world where being a low-carbon economy confers a competitive edge, the absence of structural lock-in could be turned into an advantage.

Pursuing a climate-as-development approach is not easy or foolproof. It requires considerable state capacity, strategy-setting capabilities, and full mobilisation of the necessary technologies and finance. Importantly, it does not negate concerns about climate equity. Developing countries may opt to pursue the climate-as-development opportunity, but rich countries that disproportionately caused the problem remain on the hook to support this transition.

Yet, this perspective offers an alternative to the zero-sum framing of climate policy and a basis for nationally specific visions.

An important starting point is that elites internalise and support low-carbon development as a potential opportunity, with climate resilience as a necessary component. Climate objectives cannot trump development goals, but, equally, development innocent of climate considerations is no longer viable. To be politically feasible, any strategy should be rooted in the national context. Low-carbon development pathways are not easily replicable and need to be tailored to geography, local capacities, and other variables.

As with any long-term structural change, a durable, widely shared national narrative is needed as South Korea’s “green growth” in the 2010s serves a useful example..

Shifting from narrative and vision to policy and implementation requires high levels of state capacity. Technical capabilities, along with the ability to identify climate-as-development opportunities and sources of climate vulnerability, are necessary, but by no means sufficient. As sociologist Peter Evans’ analysis of East Asian industrial policy reminds us, the state should be simultaneously “embedded” to engage and support private-sector players, and maintain sufficient “autonomy” to avoid capture.

In practice, this means building institutions that can set the strategy, coordinate across sectors and at different scales, and provide trusted platforms to mediate conflict, ideally enshrined in law. All too often, climate policymaking is entrusted to relatively weak or siloed environmental ministries that cannot organise or enforce an all-of-government approach. Because broad structural changes can introduce distributional concerns and leave some communities behind, deliberative bodies, such as South Africa’s Presidential Climate Commission, can help to entrench low-carbon options by mediating social frictions and maintaining broad-based political buy-in.

Another major challenge for developing and emerging economies facing high capital costs is mobilising adequate finance for capital-intensive low-carbon development. There are no easy answers here.

According to BloombergNEF, global investment in the low-carbon energy transition in 2024 was only around one-third of the annual amount required through 2030, and there were wide disparities in spending. Developing countries have experienced few tangible gains from multilateral initiatives to scale up climate finance and reform the international financial architecture. Holding advanced economies to their financing commitments should remain a priority, but developing countries also need to mobilise more domestic finance and develop credible investment programs to attract global capital.

Recent efforts to create “country platforms” – government-led coordination mechanisms that articulate a vision and identify financing pathways to achieve it – suggest one way forward. In preparing to host this year’s United Nations Climate Change Conference (COP30), Brazil is seeking to lead the way with a comprehensive multisectoral development program to mobilise investment. Independent research suggests that Brazil has all the ingredients for a successful green industrial transformation: a strong resource base, a legacy of advanced manufacturing, and a large market.

Such models are worth exploring elsewhere, provided that they reflect a national vision, not donor-driven objectives.

One common criticism of nationally led, multi-objective development strategies is that the urgency of the climate crisis demands more direct action focused on emissions reduction, rather than on the indirect pathways suggested here. But this view ignores political reality. If climate action is seen to be at odds with other development objectives, it will lose. The only option is to devise strategies that can realise both sets of goals.

The most effective climate policy over the long term might be one that shapes structural choices about urbanisation and industrialisation, rather than one that focuses narrowly on regulating emissions.

With the scope for global cooperation receding in today’s fraught geopolitical environment, these arguments should not be interpreted as a call for atomization. On the contrary, developing national visions for low-carbon, resilient economies would benefit from mutual learning and enhanced coordination rooted in attention to local contexts.

Deploying low-carbon technologies will require investment in stable value chains, which depend on political and economic predictability. Developing countries, in particular, will have to be strategic and nimble in finding a niche for themselves. And the provision of finance at the necessary scale will still depend on a threshold degree of global cooperation.

But a domestically developed vision of a low-carbon, competitive, and resilient economy is the only foundation that can support all these elements.

Women’s Role in War Should Extend to Peace

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Despite all the progress that has been made toward gender equality globally, many are still tempted to view armed conflict as primarily the domain of men. Women often prove decisive in such settings, including combat, non-combat roles, and leadership positions. Nonetheless, they are routinely sidelined in formal peace processes and post-conflict governance. This pattern reflects a moral and practical failure.

During armed conflicts, women become more vulnerable to genocide, trafficking, slavery, and sexual violence, with all the associated health risks and psychological trauma. This alone earns them the right to participate in peace processes. But women are not only passive victims of conflict, as we have seen in Ukraine. They make profound wartime contributions on the battlefield, as well as in civil society and as advocates for peace.

In this sense, women often increase their agency during times of conflict, despite the risks they face. But when they are then excluded from peace negotiations and what follows – as is the case, so far, in Ukraine – these agency gains are reversed, with outdated gender norms reasserting themselves. This is especially true in conflict-affected countries with more entrenched patriarchal structures.

Legal frameworks promoting women’s inclusion in conflict resolution, peace-building, and post-conflict reconstruction have so far failed to turn the tide, owing partly to implementation and operational challenges. For example, United Nations Security Council Resolution 1325, adopted in 2000, “urges all actors” to increase women’s participation and “incorporate gender perspectives in all UN peace and security efforts.” However, as of 2028, the number of women signing peace agreements had not increased much.

This has important implications for the content and outcomes of peace agreements. In a recent study, my co-authors – Matthew Clance, Romuald Meango and Charl van Schoor – and I used natural language processing to examine the use of gender language (including words like man, girl, boy, her, his, female, male, wife, and daughter) in peace agreements reached between 1990 and 2023. We created a “gender bias index,” ranging from -0.6 to 0.6, with a lower score indicating lower use of gendered language and, thus, a reduced focus on gender-based outcomes.

None of the peace agreements we studied had a particularly high gender bias index, but even those that used more gendered language, which reflected a somewhat “positive” bias toward women, were not necessarily associated with marked improvements in women’s agency. Even frameworks that were gender-sensitive (acknowledging gender inequality) did not bring about meaningful change.

The problem is that mentions of gender did not accompany concrete requirements, let alone monitoring and enforcement mechanisms. For example, a peace agreement might advocate for increased women’s political participation, but include no targets to be met, and thus produce few, if any, results. This approach can even harm gender equality, by giving the impression that action is being taken when it is not.

Other studies show that peace agreements with disarmament, demobilisation, and reintegration (DDR) components rarely mention women. This compromises the post-conflict rehabilitation of women combatants, who might be excluded from the kinds of interventions aimed at their male counterparts.

Evidence shows that including women in conflict-resolution and peace-building processes leads to better outcomes for everyone. As a 2018 analysis found, there is a “robust correlation” between the inclusion of female delegates as signatories of peace agreements and the durability of the ensuing peace. Agreements signed by women tend to include more provisions focused on political reform, and boast higher implementation rates for such provisions.

In El Salvador, the 1992 agreement that ended the country’s 12-year civil war extended DDR benefits to women fighters, and included non-combatant female members of the opposition movement in reintegration programs. Women went on to play a stabilising role in reintegration processes and to make major contributions to reconstruction efforts. The communities that received more consistent, systematic support through reintegration and reconstruction programs made greater progress on gender equality and, ultimately, on development.

Similarly, in Liberia, women were involved in negotiations to end more than a decade of civil war in the early 2000s. Female representation in politics subsequently increased markedly, with Ellen J. Sirleaf in 2005 becoming the first female elected head of state in Africa.

The message is clear. Women should be included in all dimensions of any peace process, from designing, negotiating, and signing agreements to implementing post-conflict stabilisation and reconstruction plans. They should also have access to all relevant benefit programs, such as those related to DDR, as well as initiatives addressing gender-specific needs.

More broadly, peace processes should recognise and directly promote women’s agency. This does not mean paying lip service to women’s needs and contributions while relying on ambiguous language to minimise accountability. Rather, supporting women’s agency in making peace and forging the post-conflict future demands concrete, enforceable measures to uphold women’s rights and expand their participation in all forms of decision-making.

Tainted Trust Behind White Lies

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Milk has long symbolized nourishment, growth especially for young children. In many families, including mine, it is more than a dietary staple; it is a cornerstone of early childhood nutrition. So, when my husband and I recently transitioned our daughter from breastmilk to pasteurized cow’s milk, we did so with trust. Trust in the product, the manufacturers, and the system meant to guarantee its safety.

But what happens when that trust is misplaced? What if the milk meant to nourish quietly harbours substances that can cause lasting health damage?

At 15 months, like many parents, we turned to pasteurized cow’s milk. We avoided raw milk because of well-known bacterial contamination risks. We believed pasteurized milk was the safer choice. It became a daily part of our home, for drinking, cooking, and baking. That confidence shattered when reports revealed milk adulteration with dangerous chemicals like formalin and hydrogen peroxide is not just real but rampant in some supply chains.

Formalin, a preservative, and disinfectant primarily used in labs and mortuaries, is not something anyone expects in a child’s cup. Hydrogen peroxide, commonly used as a disinfectant, should have no place in food. Yet these chemicals are reportedly used to extend shelf life in unrefrigerated milk or to mask spoilage. The implications are fatal.

This crisis hits close to home. Years ago, through a friend, I visited a well-known milk processing company in a regional state. The shiny exterior and solid branding hid an alarming reality.

The company sourced milk from their own local and imported cows but not enough to meet daily demand. Local farmers supplied the rest. But these farmers transported milk in discoloured, often unclean nickel containers, unfit for food handling. The milk was poured directly into pasteurizers, no lab testing, no quality control, no microbiological screening.

What shocked me most was staff openly dumping 50 kilograms of starch into the milk to “thicken” it, because farmers often diluted it with water. This was a large-scale commercial dairy company operating without even basic lab testing.

If this is standard for a top-tier supplier, what about others?

The blame does not rest solely on farmers, says a quality control expert from the Ethiopian Food and Drug Authority (EFDA). Many farmers operate in rural areas without electricity or cold chain infrastructure. Milk spoils quickly in hot climates. To salvage income, some use chemical preservatives, not out of malice, but due to systemic failures: lack of tools, knowledge, and support.

The result? Chemical-laced milk that reaches the market and our homes. The problem extends beyond milk to cheese, yogurt, and other dairy products.

A 2023 study titled “Quality Assessment of Raw and Pasteurized Milk in Gondar,” published in Heliyon, analysed 90 milk samples. It found formalin and hydrogen peroxide in 50pc of pasteurized and 7.7pc of raw milk samples, both with serious health risks.

These findings reveal more than contamination; they expose systemic lapses in oversight and enforcement. The study underscores the urgent need for tighter food safety regulation and consistent monitoring across Ethiopia’s dairy industry.

The most troubling part is not just the adulteration that has gone on for years, it is the lack of regular oversight. Formalin, a restricted chemical used to preserve dead tissue, is accessible without authorization. Its use in milk, a drink for children, is beyond comprehension.

What are the authorities doing? Where is regulation? Inspections? Accountability?

Occasional press releases and raids are not enough. Food safety is a continuous, non-negotiable responsibility. The public should not have to guess if a product is safe, that’s the system’s job. We need a shift from reaction to prevention.

Milk must be tested at the source, at every collection centre, not just supermarkets. Farmers need certification, training in hygienic handling, and market support. Educate, equip, and empower them. Large manufacturers should help low-income farmers with storage and preservation facilities.

Chemical sales must be strictly regulated. Authorities should monitor and track these chemicals rigorously. Transparent traceability systems should track milk from farm to shelf. Penalties must be enforced for manufacturers and individuals guilty of adulteration.

Until accountability is restored, consumer trust will erode.

Food safety is about trust. Parents trust that what they give their children is safe. That trust assumes functioning systems ensuring safety. When systems fail for years, every household feels the consequences.

Adulterated milk is not just food fraud; it is a public health crisis. Medical experts link prolonged formalin exposure to respiratory issues, gastrointestinal problems, and cancer. Hydrogen peroxide can cause stomach irritation and internal damage. These are not theoretical risks but real and affect the most vulnerable: children.

Rebuilding trust will take time. Once shaken, it is not easily restored, especially when children’s health is at stake. Families deserve confidence in what they put on the table. That confidence requires accountability, strict safety enforcement, and transparency at every supply chain step.

For our family, the breaking point came quickly. We stopped buying milk from the company I visited and many others. But the deeper problem remains trust is broken. Even premium brands source from networks of small farmers, often without proper refrigeration or oversight.

We switched to NIDO full cream powdered milk. It was not perfect, we knew the sodium content, but between a bit of sodium and potentially cancer-causing preservatives, the choice was clear: better an imperfect but safe option than a hidden risk.

A Dangerous Beam in a Childs Hand

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It was during an ordinary errand, shopping for socks, that an unexpected discovery occurred. A gleaming green beam drew my attention to a curious device: a sleek, stick-shaped pointer with a clip and flower-shaped tip. The shopkeeper described it as a laser toy for children, complete with buttons that changed the light from green to red, blue, and even purple. Priced at just 60 Br, it seemed like a charming trinket certain to delight to my daughter.

But curiosity quickly gave way to concern. Upon closer inspection, the object revealed a jarring message: “DANGER LASER: AVOID DIRECT EYE CONTACT.” Additional warnings, etched in small print, detailed potential hazards. The starkness of the warning felt incompatible with a children’s toy. Unlike common battery cautions, this one hinted at a danger more acute, more immediate.

Children’s natural curiosity often overrides caution. When left alone with devices that glow or flash, they tend to explore. Shining lights into eyes, palms, or against walls becomes instinctive play. Memories of flashlights repurposed into biological experiments, casting veins into relief, came rushing back. The risk of a child pointing this laser at their own or another’s eyes felt alarmingly plausible. It became clear that the toy, although marketed as harmless, carried risks far out of proportion to its playful appearance.

This realisation led to a broader concern: How many caregivers actually pause to read the warnings on such products? The excitement of a child discovering a new toy often eclipses any attention to fine print. In a more typical shopping scenario, with children in tow, distractions would likely have precluded any inspection of safety labels. That possibility was unsettling.

Prompted by this experience, a deeper investigation began into the risks posed by laser toys and how easily these dangers can be overlooked.

Laser toys have grown increasingly popular. From laser-mounted toy guns to spinning tops that project intricate light patterns, they captivate the imagination. Yet beneath their dazzling lights lies a capacity for harm, particularly to the eyes. The concentrated beams emitted by even small laser devices can inflict serious and sometimes irreversible retinal damage.

What makes laser injuries especially insidious is their delayed onset. Exposure rarely causes immediate pain. Vision may deteriorate gradually over days, making it difficult to recognise when damage has occurred. This delayed onset of symptoms not only obscures the initial danger but may also prolong exposure.

Reflected laser beams compound the risk. Mirrors, metallic surfaces, and polished household items can redirect light unexpectedly. A seemingly harmless bounce off a fridge door or window could prove just as harmful as a direct beam. In such scenarios, individuals may not even be aware they are being exposed to harmful laser light until it is too late.

In recognition of these dangers, regulatory bodies like the U.S. Food and Drug Administration (FDA) have stepped in. The FDA mandates stringent standards for electronic products that emit radiation, including lasers. For children’s toys, the FDA strongly recommends Class 1 lasers the lowest hazard classification under international standards. These guidelines ensure that laser emissions remain at levels considered safe for incidental exposure.

However, market trends and consumer behaviour often outpace regulation. Laser pointers, originally designed for professional presentations, are now more powerful and widely available than ever. Though not intended for play, many end up in children’s hands, where they are used indiscriminately and without supervision. These devices can emit far more intense beams than toy-grade lasers, making them disproportionately dangerous.

The blurred line between pointer and plaything creates a vacuum of responsibility. As access increases and prices drop, so does the threshold for risk. A small, affordable device, marketed as a novelty, can carry the destructive power of medical-grade equipment.

To mitigate these risks, certain precautions must be non-negotiable. Lasers should never be aimed at people or animals, no matter how innocuous the gesture may seem. The risk of accidental reflection or misdirected play is too great. Shining lasers at vehicles or aircraft is not only reckless but constitutes a serious federal offense in jurisdictions such as the United States, where it carries steep legal penalties.

In the case of breakage, laser toys should be disposed of properly, following environmental safety guidelines to avoid exposure to hazardous internal components. Importantly, high-powered laser pointers should never be purchased for children, nor allowed within their reach. Labels should be checked for power output, and any product lacking this information, or exceeding 5mW, should raise immediate concern.

If laser exposure is suspected to have caused an eye injury, immediate consultation with a healthcare professional is essential. Prompt intervention can help minimise long-term damage and, in some cases, preserve vision.

In sum, laser toys present a paradox: devices meant to entertain can also endanger. Their sleek packaging and colourful lights mask a capacity for serious harm. The decision to avoid them altogether may, in the end, be the safest course. Where such toys are already in the home, strict boundaries and vigilant supervision are essential.

Awareness, rooted in information, not fear, is the most effective safeguard. Safety often hides in fine print. Taking a moment to pause, read, and reflect can prevent years of regret.