Ten Years at the Gate, a Dream That Never Stood Still

Aug 8 , 2026
By Eden Sahle

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Last Sunday, my family gathered for a farewell with food, laughter and a cake to cut. We were sending off Saber, who had watched over our home for more than a decade, into a new chapter of his own. However,. this was no ordinary goodbye. Saber had come to Addis Abeba from Jimma, 353Km to the west, more than 10 years ago, carrying little but hope. Back home, he kept a plot of land, left in his brother’s care, that still produces more than six quintals of coffee a year for exporters and buyers.

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Last Sunday, my family gathered for what was meant to be a simple farewell. There was food on the table, laughter filling the room, and a decorated cake waiting to be cut. But this was no ordinary goodbye.

We were celebrating Saber Adem, a man who had spent more than a decade guarding our family home. His journey says a great deal about perseverance and the courage to dream.

Some stories unfold quietly, inside ordinary homes and in the lives of people who rarely receive applause. Yet they are often the ones that most deserve telling, because they reveal the extraordinary strength hidden in ordinary lives.

When Saber first arrived in Addis Abeba from Jimma more than 10 years ago, he carried little besides hope. He had left home for opportunity, stepping into the capital without connections, wealth, or certainty. What he did have was determination.

Back home in Jimma, 353Km west of Addis Abeba in Oromia Regional State, he owned a small piece of land that supported his family. Before leaving, he entrusted its care to his brother. Every year, that land produces more than six quintals of coffee, supplying exporters and commercial buyers.

Even while working far from home, Saber never abandoned his farm. He had understood something many people discover only late, that building a better future often means planting seeds in more than one place.

His first hurdle in Addis Abeba was not financial. It was language. Saber spoke only Afaan Oromo. The Amharic spoken around him every day was unfamiliar. Many people would have accepted the limitation. Saber did not. Instead of letting language become an excuse, he treated it as a lesson waiting to be learned. Bit by bit, conversation by conversation, he mastered Amharic.

Watching someone teach themselves a language through sheer will is a reminder that some of life's greatest classrooms sit outside school walls. However, language was only the beginning.

Although Saber had been hired to watch on the house, he never confined himself to the job description. When household helpers were unavailable, he stepped into the kitchen and cooked from scratch. He cleaned with real care, noticing details most people overlook. Even after some of us got married and moved out, he would still come to help whenever an extra pair of hands was needed.

He was never asked to make himself indispensable. He chose to be excellent, one of the rarest qualities a person can hold.

His character matched his work. He was humble without being timid, sociable without being intrusive, and creative without seeking recognition. He carried himself with quiet confidence and genuine respect. His eagerness to learn never faded, however familiar a task became.

One thing always stood out. He always took pride in his appearance, dressing exceptionally well. Visitors meeting him often assumed he held some other profession. His clothes were neat, his shoes polished, his posture assured. He understood that self-respect begins long before anyone else notices.

Looking presentable was never about impressing others. It reflected the value he placed on himself.

Saber's formal education ended after the eighth grade. For many, that might have felt like the closing of every meaningful door. Society often teaches that success belongs only to those who collect certificates and credentials. His life tells a different story.

When Saber schooling did not continue, he refused to read it as failure. Instead of dwelling on what had not worked, he asked himself what still could. He saved every Birr he could. In time, he enrolled in driving school and earned his licence. That licence became far more than permission to drive. It became permission to rewrite his future.

Today, Saber works as a professional driver. The owner of the vehicle trusted him not only to drive it but to keep it in his care. Trust like that does not come easily. It is earned over years of showing honesty, reliability and responsibility.

As we gathered for his farewell, we realised we were not only saying goodbye to a loyal member of the household. We were watching the start of a remarkable new chapter. The person who had watched over our family for more than 10 years is now stepping fully into a life of his own.

He had rented a home in one of the city's prime areas, near Bole. He was starting as an independent driver. As he shared his plans, his excitement was unmistakable. He spoke not only of today's opportunities but of tomorrow's ambitions. One day, he hopes to own his own vehicle and keep building through his own effort.

Listening to him, I was struck by how familiar success looks in hindsight. People may notice the destination, but they rarely see the countless ordinary days that made it possible. The early mornings and late nights, if not the years of consistency. The quiet sacrifices, the discipline of saving, the willingness to learn, the humility to begin wherever opportunity appears. Success is rarely sudden.

As we laughed, shared a meal and watched Saber cut his cake, gratitude filled the room.  Watching him walk confidently toward his future reminded me that courage is not always dramatic.

When Saber left the house that evening, he carried more than his belongings. He carried the confidence that comes from knowing he had earned every step of his progress. Looking at him, it felt less like a goodbye and more like the start of something larger. With the same determination that brought him this far, his greatest achievements are surely still ahead.

Sometimes courage is leaving home with nothing but hope. Sometimes it is believing that a present position does not have to become a permanent destination.

In a time increasingly fascinated by overnight success, Saber's journey offers something more valuable. It is proof that meaningful success is usually built quietly, patiently and honestly. There were no shortcuts and no lucky breaks, only years of dependable work, steady learning and unwavering character.

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PUBLISHED ON Aug 08,2026 [ VOL 27 , NO 1371]

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