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Martin Plaut posted: " “He’s brutal, he’s not a human being, he’s an animal,” said a 20-year-old Eritrean woman who said she was held in captivity by Kidane in Libya between 2017 and 2018. “He burned me, not only my hair, my body as well. He did stuff to me I don’t want to re" Martin Plaut


Martin Plaut

Jan 13

“He’s brutal, he’s not a human being, he’s an animal,” said a 20-year-old Eritrean woman who said she was held in captivity by Kidane in Libya between 2017 and 2018. “He burned me, not only my hair, my body as well. He did stuff to me I don’t want to remember.”

People smuggler who escaped from an Ethiopian courthouse is recaptured in Sudan and extradited to UAE

Source: Financial Times

How the law finally caught up with notorious human trafficker Kidane

People smuggler who escaped from an Ethiopian courthouse is recaptured in Sudan and extradited to UAE

Andres Schipani in Nairobi and Simeon Kerr in Dubai


Kidane Zekarias Habtemariam, a notorious people smuggler, showed the extent of his powers two years ago when he was able to escape from the Ethiopian courthouse where he was being tried.

Before being sentenced in absentia to life in prison for human trafficking and extortion, the Eritrean national asked if he could go to the bathroom, according to multiple accounts. There, helped by two associates who had flown in from Sudan, he swapped his prison attire for civilian clothes and simply strolled out of the building.

The law caught up with Kidane last week when he was arrested in Sudan and deported to the United Arab Emirates, where prosecutors are considering charges related to money laundering.

Kidane is alleged to have financial ties to the Gulf state. In a 2021 communication to the International Criminal Court, based on victims’ testimonies, a group of human rights organisations said Kidane had bank accounts in Dubai “to which migrants and refugees and their families pay for their trip and ransom”.

“Smuggling and trafficking human beings is an appalling crime and we have now shut down one of the most important trafficking routes into Europe,” said Brigadier Saeed al-Suwaidi of the federal anti-narcotics unit at the UAE interior ministry. It sent “a strong message to human traffickers: we’re working together and coming for you, one by one”, he told a press conference after the capture.

Kidane is accused by authorities in the Netherlands of leading a criminal syndicate that employs violence and intimidation, including torture and rape, to traffic and exploit people fleeing the Horn of Africa. “He’s a vicious man,” said Meron Estefanos, an Eritrean activist due to testify against him in the Netherlands.

“He’s brutal, he’s not a human being, he’s an animal,” said a 20-year-old Eritrean woman who said she was held in captivity by Kidane in Libya between 2017 and 2018. “He burned me, not only my hair, my body as well. He did stuff to me I don’t want to remember.”

Kidane Zekarias Habtemariam

Kidane Zekarias Habtemariam, a notorious people smuggler has been extradited to the UAE after being captured in Sudan © Dutch National Police

Emirati courts are also set to consider requests for Kidane’s extradition to Ethiopia as well as the Netherlands, which placed him on its most-wanted list in 2021 for alleged crimes against Eritrean migrants and refugees in Libya.

According to Dutch police, Kidane is head of a notorious camp in Libya where “thousands of migrants” face “severe beatings, kidnapping, rape and unlawful deprivation of liberty”. They arrive there after an arduous journey through Sudan, Chad or Niger with the hope of completing the passage and starting a new life in Europe.

“Many do not survive the journey to Europe, and even if they do . . . he extorts money from them by making them pay him for the next member of their family who is on their way,” Dutch police said in a statement.

Interpol, which has pursued Kidane since 2019, estimated that Kidane trafficked thousands of victims over a nine-year period. “His arrest will neutralise a major people smuggling route towards Europe and protect thousands who would have been at risk of exploitation,” Interpol said.

Kidane’s capture involved co-operation between Interpol and police in the UAE, Sudan, Ethiopia and the Netherlands. It was information passed by Interpol to the UAE that allowed for Kidane to be tracked to Sudan. Emirati officers then flew to Khartoum on January 1 after alerting the Sudanese authorities, who arrested Kidane. About 10 suspects were also arrested in the UAE on suspicion of related money laundering activities.

Demelash Gebremichael, commissioner-general of the Ethiopian Federal Police, said this “tremendous effort has led to the arrest of an international criminal sentenced to life in prison in Ethiopia. It’s a notable success.”

Kidane was adept at using false identification papers to evade detection while criss-crossing borders across Africa, according to Stephen Kavanagh, Interpol’s executive director of police services.

“This is just the beginning — when these networks become vulnerable, we have to push harder,” he said, pledging to target the broader ecosystem of collaborators around the human trafficking network.

Also this week, a man alleged to be Tewelde Goitom, a Kidane associate better known as Welid, appeared at a pre-trial hearing in the Netherlands claiming to be a victim of mistaken identity. Tewelde was sentenced to 18 years in prison in Ethiopia in 2021 and then extradited to the Netherlands. The defendant denies being Tewelde and a Dutch forensics lab is trying to confirm his identity.

The two men, Kidane and Tewelde, are accused by Meron and human rights groups of running their operations from a farm compound in Bani Walid, a town in western Libya described as a “ghost city” by migrants due to the large number of people who have disappeared there.

“Warehouses on the farm hold up to 1,200 people and are guarded by 70 armed men. Migrants and refugees report being tortured and starved on the farm. Some reported people suffocating and falling out of speeding trucks,” the human rights organisations told the ICC.

Bani Walid emerged as a smuggling hub in 2018 as the expansion of Islamist armed groups across eastern Libya forced smugglers to reroute there.

A UN panel of experts called Bani Walid “a major transit point for migrants and refugees from East and sub-Saharan Africa who originate from or travel through Sudan, Chad or Niger”, and described the “systematic” detention and abuse of migrants at its informal facilities.

Marwa Mohamed, head of advocacy and outreach at rights group Lawyers for Justice in Libya, welcomed Kidane’s capture, but warned that much work still needed to be done.

“While the arrest of Kidane as a ‘big fish’ in the trafficking world is significant, this alone will not dismantle the trafficking networks or impact trafficking routes through Libya. Kidane was not operating alone,” she said.

“We saw trafficking and smuggling continue even while Kidane was on the run and hiding outside Libya. He was part of a wider large-scale system of migrant and refugee abuse in Libya that is still operating to this day.”

Human Rights Watch Report on Eritrea

Saturday, 14 January 2023 20:46 Written by

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Martin Plaut posted: " There were over 580,000 Eritrean refugees and asylum seekers abroad as of the end 2021, and “the overwhelming majority cited the indefinite national service as the principal reason they fled the country,” according to the May 2022 report of the UN speci" Martin Plaut


Martin Plaut

Jan 12

There were over 580,000 Eritrean refugees and asylum seekers abroad as of the end 2021, and “the overwhelming majority cited the indefinite national service as the principal reason they fled the country,” according to the May 2022 report of the UN special rapporteur on the situation of human rights in Eritrea.

Source: Human Rights Watch


Events of 2022

A civilian man who fled violence sits in a bed covered with a mosquito net at the compound of the Agda Hotel, in the city of Semera, Ethiopia, February 17, 2022.


1.      Indefinite Military Conscription and Forced Labor

2.      Unlawful, Prolonged, and Abusive Detentions

3.      Freedom of Religion

4.      Refugees and Returnees

5.      Key International Actors

Eritrea’s government continued to severely repress its population, imposing restrictions on freedom of expression, opinion, and faith, and restricting independent scrutiny by international monitors. Eritrea continued to negatively impact the rights environment in the Horn of Africa region.

Eritrea is a one-man dictatorship under unelected President Isaias Afewerki, with no legislature, no independent civil society organizations or media outlets, and no independent judiciary. In 2001, Isaias closed all independent newspapers and arrested 10 journalists held incommunicado to date. Elections have never been held in the country since it gained independence in 1993, and the government has never implemented the 1997 constitution guaranteeing civil rights and limiting executive power.

The government has taken no steps to end its widespread forced labor and conscription, instead, reports of mass roundups (giffas in Tigrinya) and forced conscription to fill the army’s ranks increased in the second half of the year as fighting resumed in Ethiopia’s Tigray region. In September, it reportedly recalled reservists (up to the age of 55) in anticipation of renewed fighting alongside Ethiopian security forces in Tigray.

Eritrean forces remained in parts of Ethiopia’s Tigray region where they have continued to commit serious violations, including mass arbitrary detentions, and pillage and rape of Tigrayans in Western Tigray zone.

The Africa Centres for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) did not report any information on vaccination campaigns in Eritrea.

Eritrea was re-elected, in late 2021 to the United Nations Human Rights Council on an African group non-competitive slate. However, this did not result in reforms of its oppressive policies, according to the UN special rapporteur on the situation of human rights in Eritrea.

Eritrea continued to refuse to cooperate with key UN and African Union rights mechanisms, including by denying access to the UN special rapporteur. In December 2021, it opposed the establishment of a commission of human rights experts on Ethiopia (ICHREE) to investigate abuses by all parties in the Tigray conflict.

Eritrea’s 2015 penal code punishes homosexual conduct with five to seven years in prison.

Indefinite Military Conscription and Forced Labor

The government continued to conscript Eritreans, mostly men and unmarried women, indefinitely into military or civil service for low pay and with no say in their profession or work location. Conscientious objection is not recognized; it is punished. Discharge from national service is arbitrary and procedures opaque. Conscripts are often subjected to inhuman and degrading punishment, including torture, without recourse.

Since Eritrea joined the war in Ethiopia’s Tigray region, new waves of mass roundups of Eritreans believed to be evading service to fill the army’s ranks have been regularly reported, which have included child recruitment according to the UN special rapporteur on Eritrea. Roundups increased in August and September as fighting resumed in Ethiopia; families of draft evaders also faced reprisals, including arbitrary detentions and evictions from their homes. In September, the media said that reservists, men 55 years old and below who had been discharged from the army but were still expected to undergo guard duties, were also being called up. Families are not given official information about the fate of their loved ones sent to fight in Tigray.

Conscription begins at the Sawa military camp where students, some as young as 16, are forced to attend their final year of secondary school while undergoing compulsory military training. Students in the camp are under military command, with harsh military punishments and discipline, and female students have reported sexual harassment and exploitation. Dormitories are crowded and health facilities very limited.

Unlawful, Prolonged, and Abusive Detentions

There continued to be widespread mass roundups and prolonged arbitrary arrests and detentions without access to legal counsel, judicial review, or family visits, some for decades, targeting perceived government’s opponents, including draft evaders.

Countless prisoners languish in the country’s extensive formal and informal prison network, held in overcrowded places of detention with inadequate food, water, and medical care.

Many detainees, including top government officials and journalists arrested in 2001 after they questioned Isaias’s leadership, are held incommunicado. Some are believed to have died in detention. An additional 16 journalists were also arrested at the time. Ciham Ali Abdu, daughter of a former information minister, has been held for 10 years since her arrest at age 15. Former finance minister and critic of the president, Berhane Abrehe, has been in incommunicado detention since September 2018.

Freedom of Religion

For over two decades, the government has denied religious liberty to anyone whose religious affiliation does not match the four denominations that the government “recognizes”: Sunni Islam, Eritrean Orthodox, Roman Catholic, and Evangelical (Lutheran) churches. People affiliated with “unrecognized” faiths continue to be imprisoned, and torture has been used to force them to renounce their religion.

The trend of releases that took place in 2020 and 2021 was reversed. People continue to be detained purely because of their religious beliefs. In March, 29 Christians were reportedly detained during a prayer meeting in Asmara and taken to the Mai Serwa prison. Twenty Jehovah Witnesses remained in detention since at least 2014, including Tesfazion Gebremichael, 80, detained since 2011.

Between October 11 and 15, the Eritrean government detained three Catholic priests, Abba Abraham Habtom Gebremariam, Father Mihretab Stefanos, and Bishop Abune Fikremariam Hagos. Abune Hagos who was arrested as he returned to Eritrea from Italy, had in 2019 penned, along with three other bishops, a pastoral letter obliquely calling for justice and reform. In February, Abune Antonios, the deposed Eritrean Orthodox Church patriarch, died while under house arrest, to which he had been subjected since 2006.

The government continued to take control of schools and other institutions run by the Catholic church. In August, media reported that the government planned to take over two Catholic-run vocational training centers. Some peaceful protesters arrested in 2017 and early 2018 for protesting the government takeover of Al Diaa Islamic school, remained in detention.

Refugees and Returnees

Eritrea is not a party to the 1951 UN Refugee Convention and has not ratified the 1969 African Refugee Convention.

There were over 580,000 Eritrean refugees and asylum seekers abroad as of the end 2021, and “the overwhelming majority cited the indefinite national service as the principal reason they fled the country,” according to the May 2022 report of the UN special rapporteur on the situation of human rights in Eritrea.

Eritreans seeking protection abroad have been targeted for abuses by Eritrean authorities and security forces, both while abroad (in Ethiopia), and after forced returns from other countries, such as Egypt.

Since the outbreak of conflict in Tigray in November 2020, warring parties, including Eritrean forces, have subjected Eritrean refugees to serious abuses.

In January, the UN reported that a January air strike near the Mai Aini camp in Tigray region killed three Eritrean refugees, two of them children. Humanitarian access and basic services to the 25,000 Eritrean refugees living in two remaining camps in Tigray has been affected by fighting, an uptick in drone strikes, and the Ethiopian government’s effective siege on the Tigray region.

In January, the UN reported 20 preventable deaths there due to lack of medicine and health services. Nongovernmental organizations and UN rights experts raised concerns that the effective siege and impunity for conflict-related abuses was contributing to Eritrean refugee women’s vulnerability to sexual violence and exploitation.

In March 2022, Egypt forcibly returned 31 Eritrean refugees and threatened additional repatriations; in December 2021 it had deported 24 Eritrean refugees, including children. In Sudan’s capital, Khartoum, for several months, undocumented Eritreans were reportedly arbitrarily detained and released after paying significant sums.

In April , UN human rights experts cited “patterns of human rights violations against Eritreans who have been forcibly returned” to Eritrea, including torture, ill-treatment, enforced disappearance, and arbitrary detention. They stated that some Eritreans, deported by Egypt in October 2021, had not been seen or heard from since and were believed to be held in incommunicado detention by Eritrean authorities.

Key International Actors

In January, the UN launched a new development cooperation framework with Eritrea, sending a high-level delegation to Asmara.

In March, Eritrea voted against a UN general assembly resolution condemning Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, one of only five countries (including Russia) to do so. President Isaias later defended Russia in an annual Independence Day speech. He reportedly invited Russia to establish a naval base on its Red Sea Coast.

In its concluding observations on Eritrea, in April, the African Committee of Experts on the Rights and Welfare of the Child (ACERWC) noted that by not affording children the right to freedom of religion, Eritrea had violated the provisions of the African Charter on the Rights and Welfare of the Child.

The committee recommended that Eritrea, referring to the final year of schooling in the Sawa military camp, should ensure that children are not educated in a militaristic environment, revise its policy recognizing only four religions, the law prohibiting independent local media platforms, take legislative measures to explicitly outlaw the use of corporal punishment, and authorize the committee to conduct a fact-finding mission to investigate allegations of child military training in the Sawa camp.

In September, US President Joe Biden extended, for one year, the ability to sanction Eritrean officials for committing serious human rights abuses in Tigray. The European Union maintained individual sanctions on Maj. Gen. Abraha Kassa, head of Eritrea’s national security agency, which it rolled out in March 2021, for serious human rights abuses in Eritrea including killings, arbitrary arrests, enforced disappearances, and torture. In September, the US condemned Eritrea’s re-entry into the conflict.

In July, Somalia’s new president visited Somali troops being trained in Eritrea, reversing his predecessor’s denials that any were there.

The missing Eritreans

Saturday, 14 January 2023 20:38 Written by

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Martin Plaut posted: " Source: New Yorker January 16, 2023 Issue The Crisis of Missing Migrants What has become of the tens of thousands of people who have disappeared on their way to Europe? By Alexis Okeowo January 9, 2023 Cristina Cattaneo, a" Martin Plaut


Martin Plaut

Jan 10

Source: New Yorker

January 16, 2023 Issue

The Crisis of Missing Migrants

What has become of the tens of thousands of people who have disappeared on their way to Europe?

By Alexis Okeowo

January 9, 2023

A shadow of a boat looms over the scene of a pathology lab.

Cristina Cattaneo, a forensic scientist, said, “Knowing whether your son is dead or not is a fundamental right.”Illustration by Chris Kim

By the time Nasenet Alme Wildmikael arrived in Germany, in 2015, she had passed through four countries by land or sea and had spent a month in a migrant prison. Wildmikael was twenty-three and petite, with full cheeks and a puff of curly hair. She had grown up in a small town in western Eritrea, the fourth of ten children. Her father died when she was young, and her mother raised the kids alone, working as a laundress. Although they had little money, she refused to let her children work. Wildmikael’s home life was happy. She loved cars and wanted to be a mechanic. But there was little opportunity for the necessary schooling, and her future was uncertain. “Even if you dreamed to have something more, you knew that you would never reach it,” she told me recently.

When Wildmikael was sixteen, she fell in love with a neighbor, a boy named Biniam, and soon became pregnant. Their son, Yafet, was born in 2008. Biniam took part in the baptism and promised to marry Wildmikael, but he left for Sudan before Yafet turned one. This was her first heartbreak. Biniam didn’t explain why he left, but Wildmikael believed that he wasn’t ready to be a father and wanted to escape repression in Eritrea. President Isaias Afwerki, the country’s longtime leader, has been accused of a variety of human-rights violations, including mass surveillance, arbitrary arrest, torture, and indefinite military conscription for Eritreans. To leave the country, Eritreans must have an exit visa, but the government rarely grants them. Many citizens feel trapped. Some five thousand people a month attempt, illegally and at great risk, to leave the country, according to the United Nations. (The Eritrean government has denied committing human-rights violations.) Wildmikael’s brother, at sixteen, had to enter military service, where conscripts endure forced labor, low pay, and physical abuse; those caught trying to escape are imprisoned or killed. “I didn’t want my son to be in the military,” Wildmikael told me. When she was eighteen, she left Eritrea with Yafet, walking three days through the desert to reach Sudan.

In Khartoum, the capital, Wildmikael spent six years serving chai at a café. Biniam also lived in the city, but he was not involved in Yafet’s life. Wildmikael and Biniam were both undocumented, a precarious status in Sudan: security services have abducted Eritreans living in Khartoum to send them back. By the spring of 2013, Biniam, at the age of twenty-six, had left Sudan. Later that year, Wildmikael found out that he had disappeared. He had been texting friends throughout his journey, but his messages stopped after he boarded a boat in Libya, bound for Italy. Soon afterward, on October 3rd, a rickety fishing boat crammed with migrants, many of them Eritrean, sank off the coast of Lampedusa, Italy’s southernmost island. The authorities found the remains of three hundred and sixty-six people in the wreckage. Photographs of the possible victims circulated among the tight-knit Eritrean community in Khartoum, and Wildmikael saw someone who looked like Biniam. She felt grief. “I was really hurt by him, but I loved him,” she said. “I grew up without a father, and I didn’t want my son to grow up without a father, too.”

Two years later, Wildmikael decided to try making it to Europe, too. “I knew that it was difficult to go from Sudan to Libya, especially if you are a woman,” she said. “I knew that people were dying in the sea to reach Europe. I knew everything. But I made the decision.” She wanted to earn money to send to her mother back home, and to give Yafet opportunities that she had been denied. “I really wanted to study and to have a job, a normal life,” she told me. She decided to leave Yafet, who was six, with a family friend in Khartoum. This was her second heartbreak. But it was for his safety: she knew a woman who had drowned in the sea with her sons. If Wildmikael received asylum in Europe, she thought, Yafet could fly to join her.

She made her way through the Sahel desert, using a route where many migrants have died of hunger or thirst, and where sexual violence is so common that some women take contraceptives before embarking. In Libya, she was held in a detention center in Tripoli. The guards fed the prisoners once a day and frequently beat the male detainees. After a month, she was released, and paid almost two thousand dollars to board a boat to Italy. “When I was on the boat, I thought I would never reach the ground again,” Wildmikael said. “But, alhamdulillah, I arrived.” She continued on to Germany, and was eventually granted asylum and given a renewable two-year residency permit. She moved to Vacha, a serene town in the center of the country, where she enrolled in German classes and made friends with her neighbors, an elderly German couple who helped her navigate the grocery store. “I felt like I had freedom,” she said.

But when she called the German Embassy in Khartoum to send for Yafet, she was told that he couldn’t join her. German law stipulated that she needed his father’s consent to bring him, or a death certificate proving that his father was dead. Migrants who don’t survive the journey to Europe are rarely found or identified, though, and Wildmikael had no proof of Biniam’s death. She hired a lawyer, who told her that, without official documentation, she had little recourse. When I met Wildmikael, last year, she had not seen Yafet, who is now fourteen, in almost eight years. They had interacted only through daily video calls. She sent three hundred euros a month to Sudan for his needs, including to pay for a private tutor, because he couldn’t attend school as an undocumented migrant. “He’s a really smart boy,” she told me. “He studies every day, and he learns quickly.” Yafet had recently asked if he could make the dangerous journey across the Mediterranean himself, to join her.

Last year, through Eritrean diaspora networks, Wildmikael contacted a forensic anthropologist named Cristina Cattaneo, the head of the Anthropological and Odontological Lab (labanof), at the State University of Milan. Cattaneo has spent much of her career identifying the bodies of people who have gone missing in Italy. Since 2013, she has also used the tools of forensic science—antemortem photographs, dental superimpositions, body markings, personal belongings, DNA samples—to help identify the bodies of missing migrants. When Cattaneo first heard from Wildmikael, she was struck by how long Biniam had been missing, with no state effort to determine what had happened to him. “You feel that the system has failed enormously,” she told me. “We have European relatives of victims of disasters who complain, rightly so, because they have to wait two or three weeks for a burn victim to be identified. It’s even more outrageous that people have to wait ten years.” Cattaneo hopes to give some dignity to the deceased, and a sense of closure to the living. She immediately took on the case. “It’s about respecting the rights of humans to have their dead identified,” she said.

In the past decade, the Mediterranean Sea and the shores of Italy, Malta, Cyprus, and Greece have become a vast graveyard. As a result of conflict, repression, economic circumstances, famine, and drought, more than two million people have tried to cross the Mediterranean to Europe since 2014, mostly from sub-Saharan Africa and the Middle East. At least twenty-five thousand have disappeared in the crossing and are presumed dead. Most of these bodies remain at the bottom of the sea; some have washed ashore and been buried in unmarked graves—two thousand in Italy alone. The relatives of those who go missing are often left with only social-media posts from their loved ones and unfinished text conversations. “What about the families? There’s nobody that provides an answer,” José Pablo Baraybar, the forensic coördinator at the International Committee of the Red Cross, in Paris, said.

The International Commission on Missing Persons was started in 1996, by President Bill Clinton, after the conflict in the Balkans. Forty thousand people had gone missing. The I.C.M.P. helped countries arrange the excavation of mass graves and the extraction of DNA from human remains. Seventy per cent of the bodies were ultimately identified. In 2004, after the Indian Ocean earthquake and tsunami, the organization helped affected countries extract DNA samples to build an extensive database of the missing, which led to the identification of tens of thousands of people. “Finding missing persons and investigating their disappearances is a state responsibility, regardless of whether the person is a citizen or noncitizen, regardless of their nationality, their ethnic background, their racial background,” Kathryne Bomberger, the Commission’s director-general, told me. “Clearly, there is a double standard.”

The I.C.M.P. has pushed for a similar effort to locate and identify the bodies of deceased migrants today, and to investigate their disappearances. In 2017, a member of the Italian parliament proposed a motion that would fund migrant identification, but it never made it to a vote. The following year, Italy, Malta, Greece, and Cyprus agreed to share information on the DNA of migrant bodies with the Commission, but so far none of the countries have submitted the relevant data. Instead, the European Union has invested heavily in efforts to block migration, even at the risk of contributing to migrant deaths. In 2018, it equipped and trained the Libyan Coast Guard to intercept migrants headed for Europe. Sometimes the Coast Guard sank boats in the process. Captured migrants have been taken to prisons in Libya, where they have been tortured, extorted, and sold into forced labor. The E.U. has discouraged humanitarian groups from rescuing migrants in sinking boats; Italy has repeatedly blocked vessels carrying migrants from disembarking in its waters.

VIDEO FROM THE NEW YORKEROusmane: The Power of Found Family

Unrecorded deaths have legal ramifications. People who can’t prove that a spouse has died find it difficult to remarry. The relatives of missing migrants face challenges when filing civil suits or joining criminal proceedings against smugglers accused of overloading boats or sending faulty ships to sea. When governments are at fault, it is difficult for families to hold them accountable. In late June, about two thousand migrants and refugees from Sudan and other African countries tried to scale a border fence between Morocco and Melilla, a Spanish enclave. Dozens were injured in a stampede, and security forces in Morocco savagely beat the migrants and shot them with rubber bullets. On the other side of the fence, Spanish guards tear-gassed them. At least twenty-three people were killed, and seventy-seven were reported missing. In the days afterward, the Moroccan Association for Human Rights posted photographs on Twitter showing freshly dug graves, and alleged that the government planned to bury the deceased without identifying them, alerting their families, or investigating the causes of their deaths. (The Spanish Ministry of the Interior has stated that its security forces, and those of Morocco, “acted in a proportional and temperate manner.”)

Psychiatrists call the emotional purgatory of not knowing whether a loved one is dead “ambiguous loss.” Family members suffer the pain of knowing that a loved one is likely gone, but are denied the rituals of mourning—burial, funeral—that allow them to move on. “From a clinical point of view, the symptoms are quite similar to those of people tortured,” Marzia Marzagalia, a psychiatrist in Milan who treats migrants, told me. Those suffering from ambiguous loss often struggle with sleeping and eating, have nightmares, feel that they are in danger, and experience obsessive ideation and physical pain. Ambiguous loss can also lead to depression and alcoholism, and has been linked to cancer, gastrointestinal disorders, and immunological diseases. “I have a mother who lost three children,” Marzagalia said. “She didn’t see them die on the boat. She left with them and arrived alone. And she goes on looking for them.”

Cattaneo, of labanof, the forensic lab, is fifty-eight and slight, with curly, dyed-blond hair, a scratchy voice, and a forceful bearing. She speaks quickly in both Italian and English, and generally expects others to get to the point quickly, too. She grew up in Montreal, studied biomedical sciences at McGill University, and co-founded labanof, in 1995. In its early years, the lab primarily worked to identify the victims of murders or accidental deaths in Milan. “If the body doesn’t have a name, how can you start investigating the crime?” she said. In 2007, Cattaneo’s lab spurred the creation of Italy’s Special Office of the Commissioner for Missing Persons, which now coördinates identification efforts. In 2012, the lab created a national database that collected photographs of unidentified bodies, the country’s first. Three years later, two Croatian sisters found a photo of their father, who had been missing for twenty years, and learned that he had died suddenly on a work trip to Milan; they had always believed that he had walked out on their family. “Twenty-five years ago, many of the unidentified bodies that we were doing autopsies on were migrants from Ukraine or Romania,” Cattaneo said. “But never like this.”

On October 3, 2013, Cattaneo was in Geneva, speaking at the International Committee of the Red Cross, when she saw the news that a migrant boat had sunk less than two miles from Lampedusa’s coast—one of the first big disasters of what came to be called the “migrant crisis.” Five hundred and eighteen people had been on board, and most had died. “I was outraged,” Cattaneo recalled. None of their families would ever know what happened to them. Cattaneo agitated the Special Office of the Commissioner for Missing Persons to allow the lab to identify the victims. People thought that the process would be too onerous, she told me, and that the families wouldn’t care about learning their relatives’ fates. “We said, Let’s try,” Cattaneo recalled. “Let’s do one pilot study.”

The police had already recovered the bodies from the wreck and taken photographs and DNA samples. They were able to identify a hundred and fifty people, and asked Cattaneo’s lab to help with a hundred and seventy-six more. The Italian missing-persons office requested that Sudanese and Eritrean embassies in other European countries announce that Italy was trying to identify victims from the boat. In the months that followed, eighty families paid their own way from Denmark, Norway, Germany, Switzerland, the United Kingdom, and elsewhere in Europe to meet with Cattaneo’s team, in Milan and Rome. They carried photographs of missing family members and brought relatives who could give DNA samples; one family brought nail clippings from a grandmother who could not travel, in case they proved useful. On the morning of the meetings in Milan, Cattaneo found several families sleeping on benches in the lobby of the lab. At the meetings in Rome, an older Eritrean man, whose son had gone missing, sat in a corridor of a government building watching CNN footage of a recovery effort after a recent plane crash. “He was seeing everyone run for those people,” Cattaneo said. “But he had waited a year for someone to move a finger for his son.”

In some instances, when the bodies were well preserved, Cattaneo’s team was able to make quick identifications using recognizable tattoos or dental superimpositions. She identified a dozen bodies within days, with photographs provided by relatives. “They were showing us the Facebook profile of the missing person, and you had amazing pictures of tattoos, people on the beach with the smiles showing the dental profile—and you can identify with that,” she said. One Eritrean woman was looking for her nephew, who had just graduated from high school and had ritual facial scarring; Cattaneo soon identified his body. The son of the man who had been watching CNN had a tattoo of a cross, and Cattaneo found him as well. In the end, Cattaneo’s lab and the police identified about sixty per cent of the people whom the families were searching for. “It showed that you can identify these migrants, and that people are looking for their loved ones,” Cattaneo said. “I was really happy to prove people wrong.”

This past March, I visited Cattaneo on the campus of the State University of Milan, in Città Studi, the city’s academic district. Her office, just above the lab, is big and homey, with a red couch covered in letters and anatomy books. A replica of Michelangelo’s last Pietà—representing empathy for the relatives of the dead, she told me—stood near the room where her team meets with migrants’ family members, at the top of a staircase that leads to the city morgue. Outside, it had been sunny, but downstairs the lab was cool, lit by fluorescent lights. One lecture hall had a ceramic table on which Mussolini’s autopsy had been performed.

Cattaneo took me to a room containing human remains from a shipwreck. Hundreds of beige boxes stacked along a wall held personal belongings that had been found on the boat: love letters, I.D. cards, wallets, glasses, headphones, toothbrushes, jewelry, Fanta soda cans, prayer books. I saw children’s socks and school report cards. Cattaneo showed me bundles of photographs of shipwreck victims at weddings, graduations, birthdays. There was also a stack of thank-you notes from families whose relatives had been identified. “The main reason, for me, to identify the dead is to respect the mental health of the living,” Cattaneo said.

Since the lab’s early days, it has received no state funding, relying instead on grants from nonprofits. In between criminal investigations and teaching at the university, Cattaneo has to squeeze in her migrant-identification work, with help from a volunteer team of devoted forensic anthropologists and graduate students. The lab has solved fifty cases. But there are still four hundred and thirty open cases from sixty-eight shipwrecks on which the team has gathered data. Cattaneo said, of her team’s work so far, “This was done to prove a point, but it can’t be it.”

The successes can be gratifying. Last year, she took on a case for Abraham Gmichael, an Eritrean immigrant living in Australia. Gmichael’s brother-in-law Abrahele, a teacher, had resisted Eritrea’s compulsory military service and, at thirty, with a wife and three young children at home, decided to make his way to Europe. He planned to bring his family once he was settled. Gmichael had lost touch with Abrahele in October, 2013, around the time of the Lampedusa shipwreck. When Gmichael’s family heard that the boat had sunk, they suspected that Abrahele had been on board. “It was horrific,” Gmichael recalled. “You can’t even express it in words.” Abrahele’s wife lost consciousness and fell. “It was scary. Not only him—I had neighbors, close friends, who lost their lives. It was chaos. Many people around me were grieving.” Last year, Gmichael tried to sponsor Abrahele’s wife—Gmichael’s wife’s sister—and children to join his family in Australia. But the Australian Department of Home Affairs required Abrahele’s death certificate.

Gmichael spoke to Tareke Brhane, an Eritrean activist in Italy who has become one of the most prominent advocates for migrants in Europe. Brhane contacted Cattaneo. He then helped the International Organization for Migration obtain DNA samples from Abrahele’s children, who were in Ethiopia, and Cattaneo tested the samples against the DNA extracted from the shipwreck victims. The samples were a match. “It was a case where you had three children, and then, zoom, you bang in on the DNA,” she said. Abrahele had died on the boat, and Cattaneo knew where his body had been buried. His widow and children are now preparing to move to Australia. “It feels amazing,” Gmichael said. “His parents, when they heard that his death certificate was ready, they celebrated. Because now we know that he actually lost his life. It makes a big difference to them.”

But the work is not always so straightforward. In 2015, another migrant boat sank between Libya and Lampedusa. The vessel, a twenty-metre fishing boat, had been carrying roughly a thousand people. Italy arrested the traffickers, who had charged passengers twelve hundred to eighteen hundred dollars for passage—extra if they wanted life jackets—and had cut marks on the heads of those who disobeyed orders; they had also forced passengers to sit on the hatch of the hull once it started filling with water, to stop people inside from escaping. Two men were convicted of human trafficking and manslaughter. A year after the boat sank, Italy raised it from the sea and tugged it to the Sicilian town of Melilli. The Special Office of the Commissioner for Missing Persons asked Cattaneo’s lab and other universities to perform autopsies on the bodies before they were put in coffins and buried. “When the fire brigade opened the boat, there were layers and layers and layers of dead bodies face down,” Cattaneo recalled. “I tried to put my arm in to see if I could reach the last layer, and I couldn’t feel it. It gives you the impression of what kind of an end they met, and how desperate they must have been to have travelled in that situation.” There were dozens more bodies below the cargo hold and in the space where the anchor chains should have been stored. Cattaneo saw skeletons of adolescents under the floorboards. The way people had been crammed onto the boat reminded her of images she had seen of slave ships. The victims were from Senegal, Mali, Ivory Coast, Bangladesh, and elsewhere; half were between the ages of thirteen and seventeen.

Cattaneo and her team did autopsies for three straight months, inside a hangar on a military base in Melilli that overlooked the sea. While performing an autopsy on a nineteen-year-old boy, Cattaneo found that he was carrying a plastic bag of soil; she wondered at first if it was drugs. But when her team found other passengers with similar bags, she learned that they were carrying earth from their home countries. It made her think of the summers she spent as a child in her ancestral village, in northern Italy, and then having to return to Canada; she would break off twigs from trees and put them in the pages of her books. “I was surprised, and ashamed that I was surprised,” she said. The International Committee of the Red Cross worked with Cattaneo’s lab to get DNA profiles from a hundred and twenty families, and to interview survivors, people who had tried to board the boat but were turned away, and smugglers. But identification was more difficult than it had been with the Lampedusa wreck. Because the boat had been underwater for a year, most of the victims’ faces had dissolved, and some of their remains had commingled, making DNA testing difficult. The lab identified just six people from the wreckage.

Back in 2013, a week after the October 3rd sinking, another boat had sunk in Maltese waters. Some three hundred Syrian migrants, many of them children, drowned. Officers with the Italian Coast Guard were arrested for failing to help, despite receiving several distress calls. (The case never went to trial, and the statute of limitations for the charges expired in 2022.) “Italy was saying it’s Malta’s responsibility, and Malta was saying it was Italy’s responsibility, and they all died because it was nobody’s responsibility,” Cattaneo said. She interviewed several Syrian parents and took DNA samples from them. One father, a doctor, told Cattaneo that all three of his children had disappeared when the boat capsized. But Cattaneo has not identified any bodies from the wreck. The lab had only twenty-one bodies; Malta reported having twenty-eight. The rest were likely still in the sea. “None of the people who gave us their DNA have their loved ones among the cadavers,” Cattaneo said. “And nobody is talking about raising other boats.”

In the lab, Cattaneo and a colleague, a forensic anthropologist named Debora Mazzarelli, turned to Wildmikael’s case. They had been trying for months to verify that Biniam was in the October 3rd shipwreck. The survivors had compiled a list of possible passengers, and he was on it. Cattaneo and Mazzarelli saw a photograph of a corpse with a facial structure that resembled Biniam’s—“Nobody else looked like him,” Cattaneo said—though it was hard to be sure. The body was bloated, and the photographs that Wildmikael had sent were out of focus. But they sent Wildmikael pictures of the corpse, and she felt sure that it was him. When Wildmikael had first heard the news that Biniam might be dead, she was angry—that he had left her, that he had never got to truly know his son. But when she saw the photographs she cried. “I realized he had actually died,” Wildmikael said. “Once I saw the picture, I realized it was real.” Still, identifications using visual clues such as photographs, without scientific support, are wrong thirty per cent of the time. Cattaneo’s lab needed more. She decided to run a DNA test to see if the body was a match with Yafet. “You know how many cases we have where we’re so close?” she said.

The island of Lampedusa exists in an uneasy tension: it is both a holiday destination, because of its white-sand beaches, and the first stop for migrants crossing the Mediterranean, because it is the closest Italian point to Africa. I recently visited the island with a group of activists from the 3rd of October Committee, an N.G.O. created after the Lampedusa shipwreck. The group was led by Brhane, the Eritrean activist in Italy. Tall and lanky, with a cloud of black hair and an easy way with strangers, he had spent four years in Libyan detention centers before finally making it to Europe and receiving asylum. “I still question, How did I cross the desert, survive the prisons and the violence, and I’m still smiling?” Brhane said. We had spent the day at a school on the island, where Brhane and his colleagues spoke about why people leave their homes to come to Europe. Afterward, Brhane visited a cemetery where migrants are buried in unmarked graves. Flowers from townspeople adorned several headstones. The group had been pushing local political leaders to memorialize the deaths of unidentified migrants. “We’re going to go all over cities in Sicily trying to map who is buried there, who has a name or not,” Brhane said.

The October 3rd sinking was an unprecedented event in Italy. “For the first time, the sea gave us back the bodies,” Brhane said. “Nobody could say they did not know. Nobody could say they did not see it.” For about six months, he went on, Italian politicians and the country’s media showed compassion for migrant deaths. But then their attention drifted elsewhere. Every October, his organization holds a weekend of events on Lampedusa to preserve the incident in the national memory; survivors and relatives of the missing, including a Syrian couple who lost their children, come to the island. “It’s difficult because a lot of families still believe their relatives are alive,” Brhane said. “Only a small percentage have the bodies to test the DNA. The majority are in the sea, and the Italian government does not want to spend the money to bring them out. They are waiting for answers that we cannot give them. They are suffering.”

Thirteen per cent of the bodies of migrants who died on journeys between 2014 and 2019 have been recovered, according to estimates. The rest are still at the bottom of the Mediterranean or decomposing in North African deserts. “Seventy per cent of the bodies no longer exist,” Baraybar, of the International Committee of the Red Cross, told me. “So we also have to do forensics without bodies. Their fate can only be inferred.” A group of Tunisian mothers looking for their sons had given samples of their DNA to the lab, but Cattaneo had no bodies or genetic profiles from the relevant shipwrecks to test them against. “You just feel this huge sense of responsibility,” she said. “You know that most of the time you won’t be able to give them an answer.” Even when Cattaneo has the bodies, it’s difficult to find the families they belong to. She relies on activists, like Brhane, who are connected to migrant diasporas. “Where do you get hold of the relatives? How?” she said. “Some may be in the countries of origin, some may be in transition, some may already be in Europe.”

Cattaneo believed that European countries should be forced to recover bodies from their waters and to pay for autopsies, outreach, and DNA testing. The countries should then store this information on a database. “These countries have not experienced a missing-persons problem at this level since the Balkans or World War Two, so those mechanisms, to be fair, don’t exist,” Bomberger, of the International Commission on Missing Persons, said. “But the numbers of missing persons around the world is on the rise. Cristina’s a hero, but it can’t be the burden of one woman to deal with twenty thousand disappearances.”

Few European leaders agree. “Not only is the problem not considered a problem for lots of political actors—it’s a great angle for a right-wing government to leverage for their own benefit,” Simon Robins, a researcher on humanitarian protections, said. Baraybar believes that, as long as countries don’t modify their migration policies, “a magical solution doesn’t exist,” because so few bodies are recovered. It cost Italy 9.5 million euros to raise the Melilli boat from the water; raising more vessels could be prohibitively expensive. Conservative politicians have argued that migrants are crossing the sea by choice and know the potential consequences. Lena Düpont, a German member of the European Parliament, told me that money would be better spent on efforts to prevent migration in the first place, including investing in development in sub-Saharan Africa and continuing partnerships with the Libyan Coast Guard to stop migrants from reaching Europe. “It’s not that we don’t care about those who drown in the Mediterranean,” Düpont said. She later added, “We want to prevent dead bodies from being thrown to the shores of our union. . . . We need to focus on having the right instruments in hand, and a functioning system, for preventing those deaths, given that we do have tight resources at the European level.” Meanwhile, anti-migrant sentiment continues to sweep through Europe. “Stop landings” was a popular slogan during Italy’s elections last year, in which Giorgia Meloni, a far-right nationalist, was elected Prime Minister. “Italy cannot accept tens of thousands of immigrants who only bring problems,” Matteo Salvini, a former interior minister, said, days before a recent visit to Lampedusa. “Italy is not Europe’s refugee camp.”

During my visit to Milan, I sat in on a virtual meeting between Cattaneo and Pierfrancesco Majorino, another member of the European Parliament. Majorino had arranged for Cattaneo to testify before Parliament in support of a bill on migrant identification. “They’re hearing us for six whole minutes,” Cattaneo told me dryly. The bill would make European countries responsible for identifying the bodies of migrants found in their waters and create a database that humanitarian organizations could use to identify them. “The core of your message should be that Europe needs to recognize the right of identification,” Majorino told her. Cattaneo said, “We’ve met hundreds of families who have brought us information, and it’s just not getting across, and nobody’s doing anything. It’s morally outrageous.”

Even with such a law in place, the work would remain difficult. “It’s not like an air crash, where you have two hundred victims and you have a passenger list,” Cattaneo said. “It’s more like a tsunami, but it’s even more difficult because you don’t have one tragedy on one date. You have thousands of disasters—and small disasters. One fishing boat with five victims, the other one’s a thousand.” She believed that Europe could make the journey less brutal in the first place, allowing migrants to travel safely through humanitarian corridors. “There shouldn’t be all these dead people,” Cattaneo said. “It’s crazy.” Russian troops had invaded Ukraine a few weeks earlier, and Europe had been extraordinarily welcoming to refugees. Germany and Austria were offering free train rides, and the European Union had activated, for the first time, a “temporary protection directive,” which allowed Ukrainian refugees to remain in Europe for at least a year, with the right to work and to use social services. “It is done for Ukrainians because they are Ukrainians and not sub-Saharan Africans,” Cattaneo said. Majorino replied, “There is no doubt that their origin is the deciding factor.”

This past spring, I visited Wildmikael at her home in Vacha. It was her day off—she worked in the warehouse of an online retailer—and she was wearing a lemon-yellow sweatshirt and gray sweatpants. She made tea and prepared a plate of spaghetti, then led me to her living room, which was decorated with candles and plants. She had dedicated part of a wall to photographs of her family and of classmates from her German-language class. Brhane had recently arranged to have a DNA sample taken from her son, Yafet, which Cattaneo would test against the body that had been recovered from the October 3rd wreck. “I’m a little scared,” Wildmikael said.

In September, Cattaneo learned the result: the DNA samples did not match. At first, Cattaneo considered the possibility that the body was in fact Biniam’s but that he was not really Yafet’s father. Yet Wildmikael insisted that he was the only man she had ever been with. Cattaneo analyzed the samples again, but got another negative result. In the end, she decided that the body was probably not Biniam’s, after all. “The geneticist said it’s either some very rare—though we don’t know how frequent it is in sub-Saharan populations—mutation or it’s not him,” Cattaneo said. She had also checked Yafet’s DNA against all of the lab’s genetic profiles from the wreck, but none had matched. “This boy’s father could have never been recovered from the sea,” she said. “Maybe he was in another shipwreck.” Wildmikael, after several months of waiting, was incredulous when she heard the news, and then devastated. “The only thing I am sure of is that he died on the way to Italy,” she said. “Apart from that, I don’t know if that is the body of the father of my son.”

On my last day in Milan, Cattaneo and I walked through the city toward Piazza del Duomo. The missing-migrants crisis was not confined to Europe. The remains of hundreds of deceased migrants are found at the U.S.-Mexico border every year, and families rely on volunteers to piece together the fate of loved ones. “Knowing whether your son is dead or not is a fundamental right,” Cattaneo told me. “In other historical periods, the dead were treated with more respect.” She said that she was ready, if necessary, to sue on behalf of family members of the missing: “If the European Parliament, having known all this information, consciously says, ‘We don’t care, we won’t do anything about this,’ then we start the class-action lawsuit.”

Wildmikael was now one of countless people who would probably never know what happened to a missing relative. “We have so many people in situations like this,” Gmichael, the Eritrean whose brother-in-law was identified, told me. “So many young people have lost their lives, and their parents don’t know where they are for more than ten, fifteen years.” Gmichael had heard of fathers calling on community elders to help fabricate stories about missing children in order to soothe mothers who needed closure. “The story of almost every household in Eritrea is so terrible,” he said.

Wildmikael recently submitted a visa application for Yafet. Biniam had now been missing for almost ten years, which could make the application easier to file, and she also included the survivors’ manifest of the October 3rd shipwreck, which listed Biniam as having been on board. If Yafet’s application wasn’t successful, he could apply again when he turned eighteen, in four years, at which point the barriers for him to come to Germany would be lower. But four years was a long time. Although Wildmikael talked to her son every day, she could no longer remember what it was like to be with him in person. And she had to make peace with the fact that she would probably never know what happened to Biniam. “He was the father of my son, and now he’s dead, and they don’t believe me,” she said. “I just need an answer.”




Martin Plaut

Jan 9

Source: AFP

 French and German Foreign ministers 1

 Last updated: 05/01 - 12:46


French Foreign Minister Catherine Colonna announced Thursday that she would travel to Ethiopia next week with her German counterpart Annalena Baerbock "to consolidate peace", after the agreement signed on November 2 between the government and Tigrayan rebels.

"I will be going next week with my colleague and friend Annalena Baerbock to Africa, to Ethiopia," Colonna told LCI television.

"We will travel together to consolidate the peace agreement that has finally been reached" to end the war that ravaged northern Ethiopia for two years "and to support the action of the African Union,” she added.

The peace agreement provides in particular for the disarmament of rebel forces, the restoration of federal authority in Tigray and the reopening of access and communications to this isolated region since mid-2021.

A diplomatic source told AFP that the visit of the two heads of diplomacy would take place on January 12 and 13. 

They will also discuss food security as well as relations between Ethiopia and the European Union, as well as relations between the EU and the African Union, according to the same source.

Joint Action for Joint Victory

Tuesday, 03 January 2023 16:37 Written by

 EPDP Editorial

Political programmes of the existing Eritrean pro-democracy and change forces reveal that they have more in common than what divides them. The topmost commonly held fundamental agendas that unite them include the following:

1. Identifying the ruling clique as their chief enemy; responsible

2. Preserving Eritrean sovereignty;

3. Removing the repressive regime;

4. Replacing the existing tyranny by a democratic constitutional system of governance that ensures the supremacy of the citizenry.

Upholding these objectives as they are, the political forces will have all the opportunity of raising their different viewpoints among the people while giving a final shape to the country’s constitutional structure.

The differences among Eritrean political formations can in no way prevent joint action against the repressive common enemy at home. The differences can be seen as choices for the people to consider in post-dictatorship setting. However, lack of proper handling and full understanding of the issues by their propagators could make them those differences look harmful and everlasting while they are not. Those of us who have been calling for joint work for joint victory do indeed appreciate that the seemingly big differences between organizations are not really big but easy to overcome. In the meantime, trying to put aside one’s differences and giving priority to the points of common understanding in order to launch joint work is not proving to be that easy, as seen in the case of the Eritrean opposition. We should not forget that putting it into action requires taking bold decisions and persistent determination to make joint work happen.

In other words, realizing our multiple proposals for joint work are facing hurdles  because joint action calls for bringing closer the perceived points of disagreement and creating in a responsible manner a central space that accommodates all stakeholders. The key factors that prevent us from realizing joint work are:

1. General lack of not setting one’s priorities;

2. Failure to have common understanding of the primary enemy;

3. Failure of understanding the roles and freedoms of organizations as separate entities as well as members of the coalition for joint work; and

4. Not giving priority to people and country over ones political formation.

Although difficult, it indeed is possible to resolve these differences and reach common understanding for joint action. But, we in the Eritrean opposition camp struggling for change in Eritrea, have not yet acquired the capabilities to take the right steps.

In the call for joint work, there should not be one who invites and another coming as an invited participant. No. It is important that all known stakeholders be part of the initiative and hold responsibilities from the get-go. The issue of unity or joint work cannot be simplified as ‘a trial and error’ matter. It is a strategy that requires high consideration and careful handling because it is the basic means that can clear the path for the aspired political change.

It was springing from this understanding and importance that the Eritrean People’s Democratic Party (EPDP) has been issuing proposals at its congresses and doing all what it can to promote the idea. For the EPDP, unity and joint action proposals for regime change and the establishment of democratic governance are much beyond the capabilities of one party or organization.

We fully understand that closing the gap and creating a platform for joint work between organizations with long simmering differences and mistrusts requires sufficient time in addition to effective and responsible capabilities. But it is absolutely unacceptable to see our forces for change losing time by hiding behind indefensible excuses  instead of facing the timely challenges head-on. Waiting for others to respond sometimes proves to be tiresome and frustrating, but there is no choice other than steadfastly trying to realize the right path for change.   

Understandably, success through joint work depends on the capabilities of the forces that come together for a joint work and the outcome is the sum total of their inputs.  If the individual members making up the coalition lack capabilities, their coming together will remain just nominal and incapable of doing the required work.

A framework for joint work should not be understood to mean end of the work by the forces capable in immensely contributing in the struggle. Prioritizing and organizing in a responsible way the specific contributions of the parties, movements and organizations forming the joint platform is very essential. Instead of promoting one issue at a time, it is possible to conduct multiple related tasks alongside each other.  For example, while working on how to remove the tyrant regime in Asmara, it is also important to work at the same time on how to guarantee state sovereignty, unity of the people, the tasks required in the transition period, and the modalities of popular participation in the various tasks.

The current developments in our region do put the PFDJ clique in corner and encourage the forces of change to do more. The unwarranted involvements of the repressive regime in regional matters, and particularly its interferences in Ethiopia, have further exposed its anti-people cruelties and excesses. 

In spite of all the efforts exerted so far, our opposition camp has gravely failed to respond to the question of unity and joint work. This failure demonstrates that we have been handling the issues in a wrong way. Our past shortcomings are deeply regrettable. However, it is now time to learn from past mistakes and do what is right. It will be sad if we do not learn from our past and mend our ways in the future. Therefore, our old motto of “Joint struggle for joint victory” is still alive and without other alternative.

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Martin Plaut posted: " In addition to the reports by Bloomberg and Reuters (below) a friend told me that a contact in Shire had seen at least ten big trucks of Eritrean Defence Force trucks leaving, yesterday [Thursday] Martin Source: Bloomberg Pullout adds to si" Martin Plaut


Martin Plaut

Dec 30

In addition to the reports by Bloomberg and Reuters (below) a friend told me that a contact in Shire had seen at least ten big trucks of Eritrean Defence Force trucks leaving, yesterday [Thursday]


Source: Bloomberg

·    Pullout adds to signs that November peace deal is holding

·    Ethiopia, Tigray authorities signed peace deal last month

By Simon Marks

December 30, 2022, 11:22 AM UTC

Eritrean soldiers are leaving major cities in Ethiopia’s Tigray region, the latest sign that a peace deal aimed at ending two years of conflict is holding.

Over the past 48 hours the troops were seen withdrawing by truck from the Ethiopian city of Shire and the town of Adwa near the northern border with Eritrea, said people who asked not to be identified because they’re not authorized to comment on the matter. 

Ethiopian government spokesperson Selamawit Kassa declined to comment. Eritrean Information Minister Yemane Gebremeskel didn’t respond to questions about the withdrawal sent by text message. A spokesman for the Tigray government said he couldn’t confirm Eritrean troops had completely left the region.

Representatives of Ethiopia’s government and the dissident Tigray region signed a peace deal in South Africa on Nov. 2 to end a civil war that erupted in November 2020 and has left thousands of people dead. The truce sparked a more than 1,000-point rally in Ethiopia’s $1 billion of 2024 eurobonds, with the yield falling to 35.55% on Friday from 45.80% the day before the agreement.

During the conflict, Eritrean troops were blamed for committing widespread human-rights abuses including rape, indiscriminate killings of civilians and kidnapping. Eritrea — an ally of Ethiopian Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed and a foe of the Tigray authorities — had kept its forces in place after the peace deal was signed and they continued to fight on.

The Eritrean pullout comes as Ethiopian authorities restore services to the Tigray region.

Ethiopian Airlines resumed flights to the regional capital, Mekelle, this week and telecommunication services have been reconnected in major urban centers across the region. Earlier this week, Abe Sano, president of the Commercial Bank of Ethiopia, said in an interview with the state-run Ethiopian Broadcast Corp. that 20 branches of the bank in Tigray would reopen.

Representatives from Ethiopia and Tigray met in Nairobi, the Kenyan capital, earlier this month and agreed to allow a team of independent African experts to monitor the implementation of the peace deal, according to a document summarizing the meeting seen by Bloomberg. The deal lays out terms for Tigray forces to disarm and stop recruitment, and for their troops to be sent to designated areas controlled by federal Ethiopian forces.

Eritrean soldiers leave major towns in northern Ethiopia - witnesses

Source: Reuters

By Dawit Endeshaw

Field Marshal of the Ethiopian National Defence Force Birhanu Jula and Tadesse Werede Tesfay of the Tigray forces sign the implementation of the cessation of hostilities in Nairobi

[1/2] Field Marshal of the Ethiopian National Defence Force and Chief of General Staff of Ethiopia Birhanu Jula, and Tadesse Werede Tesfay, the Commander-in-Chief of the Tigray forces, sign the implementation of the cessation of hostilities agreement between the Ethiopian government and Tigrayan forces, laying out the roadmap for implementation of a peace deal, in Nairobi, Kenya November 12, 2022. REUTERS/Thomas Mukoya/File PhotoRead more12

·    Peace deal requires withdrawal of foreign troops

·    Eritrean sodliers accused of abuses following ceasefire deal

·    Progress made by Ethiopian govt, Tigray authorities implementing accord

ADDIS ABABA, Dec 30 (Reuters) - Eritrean soldiers, who fought in support of Ethiopia's federal government during its two-year civil war in the northern Tigray region, have pulled out of the major towns of Shire and Axum and headed toward the border, three witnesses told Reuters.

The withdrawals follow a Nov. 2 ceasefire signed by Ethiopia's government and Tigray regional forces that requires the removal of foreign troops from Tigray.

Eritrea, however, was not a party to the deal, and its troops' ongoing presence in major Tigrayan population centres has raised questions about the durability of the accord.

It was not immediately clear if the Eritrean troops were leaving Tigray entirely or just pulling back from certain towns. Eritrea's Information Minister Yemane Gebremeskel told Reuters he could neither confirm nor deny the troops were withdrawing.

Getachew Reda, a spokesperson for the Tigrayan forces, and Ethiopian national security adviser Redwan Hussien did not immediately respond to requests for comment on Friday.

Aid workers in Axum and Shire said they saw several trucks and dozens of cars packed with Eritrean soldiers on Thursday leaving toward the border town of Sheraro. One of the aid workers said the soldiers were waving goodbye.

Tigray residents have accused the Eritrean soldiers of continuing to loot and arrest and kill civilians after the ceasefire.

Eritrean authorities have not directly responded to the allegations.

During the war, Eritrean troops were accused by residents and human rights groups of various abuses, including the killing of hundreds of civilians in Axum during a 24-hour period in November 2020. Eritrea rejected the accusations.

Eritrea continues to consider the Tigray People's Liberation Front (TPLF), which leads Tigrayan forces, its enemy. Eritrea and Ethiopia fought a border war between 1998 and 2000, when the TPLF dominated the federal government.

After a slow start, Ethiopia's government and Tigrayan authorities have taken several steps in the past week to implement the peace deal.

On Thursday, representatives from both sides met in Tigray's capital Mekelle to set up a monitoring team to assess progress on the disarmament of Tigray forces, the restoration of services and humanitarian aid, and the withdrawal of foreign troops.

Federal police also entered Mekelle in accordance with the truce, state-owned Ethiopian Airlines resumed flights and Ethio Telecom reconnected its services to the capital and 27 other towns.


Martin Plaut

Dec 20

At first glance the papers seem almost bland, yet what gradually becomes clear are the foundations for the firm friendship that Blair developed with Meles Zenawi, and how Isaias Afwerki failed to win the battle for influence.

The war that Ethiopia and Eritrea fought from 6 May 1998 – 18 June 2000, apparently over the border town of Badme, took the lives of at least 100,000. It was resolved by the Algiers peace agreement, which was mainly brokered by the United States. But it is only now that the British national archive has released papers revealing the role of that the British Prime Minister, Tony Blair.

At the start of the war the Blair government was not very engaged in the conflict. As one Foreign Office briefing makes clear, Britain had little interest in either country. London's concern was the safety of its citizens, some of whom were airlifted out of Asmara when the war broke out. Instead, the Blair government supported the efforts of others: the Organisation of African Unity and the US government.

But there are elements of London's interaction with both countries that are interesting.

Isaias Afwerki and Meles Zenawi both did their best to win British support for their cause, sending personal letters to Prime Minister Blair.

Isaias argued against the deportation of thousands of Eritreans who were forced to leave Ethiopia. But his case was undermined by his failure to acknowledge that thousands of Ethiopians had been expelled from Eritrea, even though the British accepted that they were not as numerous as the Eritreans who had been put across the Ethiopian border.

The letters from Meles also called for British support, but the UK refused to take sides. On 5th of June 1998, within days of the war breaking out, the Foreign Office provided this assessment of how the conflict had broken out.

That was the position that Britain maintained throughout the conflict. But being less compromising did not win Isaias international support.

Eritrea gradually lost ground with the Blair government. This was perhaps inevitable; London was always likely to favour Ethiopia, since it was the major power in the region and had greater clout.

But Isaias played his cards badly. He was seen as intransigent, and he also refused to take the call of the British Foreign Secretary, Robin Cook in June 1998, who had meanwhile spoken to Meles. It was a point Tony Blair highlighted.

Perhaps President Isaias thought it was beneath him to speak to a mere Foreign Secretary (the British term for a Minister) but it did not go down well.

In May 2000 the Foreign Office was sticking to its position of favouring neither side - labelling both as authoritarian regimes in the Marxist mold.

The assessment was not far from the mark. Eritrea's survival was indeed at stake, after Ethiopian forces broke through the Eritrean defences.

But in just three months, the British tone towards Ethiopia changed completely. An opportunity of a visit to London by Meles offered Tony Blair the chance of a real role in ending the war. The Foreign Office suggested it should be seized.

There appears to have been a reversal of British policy. No longer is Ethiopia seen as a state "reminiscent of Eastern Europe in the 1970's". Meles is portrayed as a peacemaker resisting "hard-line Tigrayan" backers, rather than part of an elite with little concern for the majority of his people.

Although the file released by the National Archive gives no further clues about how the change came about, or what happened to the proposed visit to London, it would seem that the Blair-Meles relationship was sealed.

The two men became firm allies.

Meles Zenawi went on to sit on the Blair "Commission for Africa" as a Commissioner.

When Blair finally left office in 2007 Meles praised the former Prime Minister in no uncertain terms. “I doubt whether Africa has had a more sincere friend at 10 Downing Street than Tony Blair,” Meles said. 

The seeds of this relationship seem to have been sown in the unpromising soil of the border war. In time we may come to understand how they were planted and who tended their green shoots. This file provides the first glimpse.



Source: Washington Post

The deadliest killings occurred at the Mirab Abaya prison camp, where current and retired Tigrayan soldiers were detained

By Katharine Houreld

December 4, 2022 at 2:00 a.m. EST

Then the killings began.

By sunset the next day, around 83 prisoners were dead and another score missing,according to six survivors. Some were shot by their guards, others hacked to death by villagers who taunted the soldiers about their Tigrayan ethnicity, prisoners said. Bodies were dumped in a mass grave by the prison gate, according to seven witnesses.

“They were stacked on top of each other like wood,” recounted one detainee who said he saw the aftermath of the slaughter.

The massacre at the camp near Mirab Abaya, which was covered up and has not been previously reported, was the deadliest killing of imprisoned soldiers since the war started, but not the only one. Guards have killed imprisoned soldiers in at least seven other locations, according to witnesses, who were among more than two dozen people interviewed for this story. None of these incidents have been previously reported either.

The dead were all Tigrayans, members of an ethnic group that dominated the Ethiopian government and military for nearly three decades. That changed after Abiy Ahmed was appointed prime minister of Ethiopia, Africa’s second-most-populous nation, in 2018. Relations between Abiy and the Tigray People’s Liberation Front (TPLF) quickly nosedived. War broke out in 2020 after Tigrayan soldiers in the Ethiopian army and other Tigrayan forces seized military bases across the Tigray region.

Fearing further attacks, the government detained thousands of Tigrayan soldiers serving elsewhere in the country. They have been held in prison camps for nearly two years with no access to their families, phones or human rights monitors. Other Tigrayan soldiers were disarmed when war broke out but continued working in office jobs. Many of them were detained in November 2021 as Tigrayan forces advanced toward the capital, Addis Ababa.

Most of the killings, including the massacre at Mirab Abaya, happened then. Prisoners speculated the attacks might have been triggered by fear or revenge. None of the soldiers killed had been combatants fighting against the Ethiopians and thus prisoners of war.

In some prisons, senior Ethiopian military officers either ordered the killings or were present when they occurred, prisoners said. Elsewhere, imprisoned soldiers said they continue to be guarded — and beaten — by those who killed their comrades.

While there is little sign that the killings were centrally coordinated, there is evidence of widespread impunity. Only in Mirab Abaya did officers intervene to stop the killing.

These newly revealed details come as both sides in the conflict are hammering out details of a cease-fire, announced last month, that has been met with suspicion among the population over a range of issues, including whether there will be accountability for war crimes and other atrocities. How the government responds to the revelations of prison killings could suggest how it will treat other abuses allegedly committed by security forces.

The witness accounts also illuminate how the ethnic divisions tearing at Ethiopia’s society are also eroding its military, once widely respected as one of the region’s most professional and still often relied upon by Ethiopia’s neighbors to help keep the peace. Many of those killed in the prisons were among the thousands of Ethiopian troops who have served in international peacekeeping missions under the United Nations or African Union.

This article’s account of the bloodletting is based on 26 interviews with prisoners, medical personnel, officials, local residents and relatives, and on a review of satellite imagery, social media posts and medical records. Two lists of the dead were provided separately to The Washington Post, and both included the same 83 names. The identities of 16 victims were verified during interviews with detainees. All witnesses spoke on the condition of anonymity for fear of reprisals.

When asked about these accounts, Col. Getnet Adane, a spokesman for the Ethiopian military, said he was too busy to comment. A government spokesman and the prime minister’s spokeswoman did not respond to requests for comment. The state-appointed head of the Ethiopian Human Rights Commission, Daniel Bekele, said the panel was aware of the incident and had been investigating it.

Bullets and machetes

About 2,000 to 2,500 serving or retired Tigrayan soldiers, both men and women,were being held at the new prison camp about half an hour’s walk north of the town of Mirab Abaya, in a sparsely populated area dotted with banana plantations and near a large, crocodile-infested lake. Some buildings were so new they didn’t even have doors. But the camp hadguard towers and demarcated boundaries. Guards told prisoners they would be shot if they crossed the line.

In mid-November 2021, a new prisoner — a just-married major who worked in the military’s defense construction division — was badly injured by guards when he went outside his cell at night to urinate, six other detainees said. He was beaten badly. Some said he was shot in the stomach. Guards later told prisoners that he died on the way to the hospital.

Over the following days, tensions continued to mount with reports —later confirmed by rights activists — that Tigrayan fighters in Ethiopia’s northern Amhara region were killing and raping as they advanced toward the capital.

But on Nov. 21, the Mirab Abaya camp seemed calm, prisoners said. Many had been basking in the late afternoon sun when between 16 and 18 guards opened fire.

One prisoner said that he had been near two women when they were shot in the toilet.

“One woman died immediately, and the other was calling out, ‘My son, my son!’ Then they fired another bullet, and she died,” hesaid. “They [the guards] wanted to kill everyone there.”

One of the women was a major in the Ethiopian ground forces. She was around 50, had served as a peacekeeper in Sudan and had a son and a daughter, according to the witness. Other detainees said the second woman had worked in the Ministry of Defense.

A senior Tigrayan officer said he was inside his cell when he heard gunshots. He stuffed clothes and belongings into a bag. He decided to run if he could.

“I was thinking: ‘Will I ever see my kids? See them succeed in school and have the good things of life?’ ” he said. If he couldn’t run, he would fight, he said. He and his cellmates looked for a stick or anything else to use as a weapon.

A third prisoner said he began to pray.

Not all guards took part in the killing. A fourth prisoner described one guard taking up a position outside the cells and telling the attackers he would shoot them if they came for the detainees inside. That guard was crying, the prisoner said, and was inconsolable for days afterward. Another prisoner said some guards had tried to disarm the attackers.

Yet another prisoner said he was having coffee outside when shots rang out. Like many others, he ran into the surrounding bush. Ethiopian soldiers pursued his small group, he said. After running more than an hour, he said, they saw some locals. The prisoners blurted out that they’d been shot at and begged for help.

“They said … ‘We will show you what you deserve.’ And then they attacked us,” he said.

A crowd of about 150 to 200 people hacked and bludgeoned the escapees with machetes, sticks and stones, he recalled. Most were killed as they begged for mercy, he said, adding that he was hurt badly and left for dead. During the attack, he said, he saw other prisoners run into the lake to escape the mobs.

Other detainees confirmed that there had been machete attacks on those who escaped the prison. They said residents screamed abuse at the escapees and had incorrectly been told they were prisoners of war and to blame for the deaths of local men in the military. Two prisoners said the attacks continued into the next day.

The shooting at the prison stopped an hour or two after it began when Col. Girma Ayele of the Southern Command arrived. By then, prisoners said, the camp was littered with the bodies of the dead and the earth slick with blood. Girma could not be reached for comment.

The Dejen division

The massacre inside the prison was committed by about 18 guards, including a woman, said the six prisoners at Mirab Abaya who were interviewed. These guards and just over a third of the victims came from the same unit: the Dejen army division, formerly known as the 17th Division. It’s stationed in Addis Ababa.

Many Tigrayan soldiers speculated during interviews that the attack was motivated by revenge. Most of the guards who did the killing were from the Amhara region, which Tigrayan forces had invaded as they pushed toward the capital.

Girma told the prisoners these guards were not under his direct control and had been arrested, detainees said. The guards’ status could not be confirmed. The prisoners never saw them again.

A day after the killing, an excavator dug a mass grave just outside the main watchtower at the entrance gate, perhaps 200 meters from the road, according to the six prisoners.

Among those buried was Maj. Meles Belay Gidey, an engineer passionate about his teaching job at the Defense Engineering College. When Meles was serving as a U.N. peacekeeper in Abyei, a disputed area between Sudan and South Sudan, he video-called his two teenage sons and his stepdaughter every evening to talk to them about school, a relative said.

A local resident traveling past the prison camp the next day said the military warned passersby not to take pictures of the grave.

In Mirab Abaya town, officials used loudspeakers mounted on cars to warn the local population that escapees should be killed. The local resident said he saw three or four people attacked near a banana grove and about a dozen bodies bleeding in the streets, some scattered near the church of St. Gabriel. Ethiopian soldiers nearby did not intervene, he said.

The resident also said he saw a man in his mid-20s being beaten by a mob. Both of his hands had been cut off, and his legs were bleeding. The man begged to be killed as he was dragged up and down the street, the resident said. The attackers told the man they would kill him as slowly as possible. Eventually, he was dragged to the camp gate and shot. Another body was being dragged behind a motorbike, the resident said.

“I couldn’t do anything because I feared for my life,” he said.

Ethiopian soldiers take strategic city in Tigray amid civilian exodus

Wounded Tigrayans were taken to three hospitals, survivors said: Arba Minch General Hospital, Soddo Christian Hospital and another hospital in Soddo. Two medical professionals at Arba Minch General Hospital described an influx of patients around 9 p.m. on Nov. 21. One worker shared medical records showing that 19 patients were admitted with bullet wounds and that 15 were discharged the next day. Two died in the hospital and four were dead on arrival, the two medical workers said.

Most of the patients were kept for only a few hours despite life-threatening wounds, the two said. The patients were kept under police guard, both medical professionals said, and they described nurses and other medical staff taunting the wounded about their ethnicity.

Killings in other prisons

Mirab Abaya was not the only prison where imprisoned soldiers were killed. Current and former prisoners said in interviews that they had witnessed guards killing prisoners at Garbassa training center and the headquarters of the 13th Division in the eastern city of Jigjiga; in prisons in Wondotika and Toga near the southern city of Hawassa; in the southern area of Didessa; and at the Bilate training center in the south. Many of the victims had served as peacekeepers in U.N. missions in Sudan, Abyei or South Sudan or as part of an African Union force in Somalia.

At Wondotika, a detainee said guards had killed five prisoners at facility that holds hundreds of soldiers who are mostly special forces or commandos. The victims included Gebremariam Estifanos, a veteran of a peacekeeping mission in Abyei and an African Union mission in Somalia, who was beaten to death Nov. 8, 2021, in the presence of a colonel and lieutenant colonel from the 103rd Division, a prisoner said. Gebremariam’s biggest wish had been to buy his family a house and his father an ox, the prisoner said. Two other detainees confirmed the account, saying guards often taunted the prisoners about the incident.

Both said that guards had often forced prisoners to dig their own graves, telling them they would soon be killed. The four other soldiers were killed later in November, shot so many times that their bodies were torn to pieces by bullets, the first prisoner said.

“We are beaten and threatened. We have served our country with honor and dignity,” that prisoner said. “I regret my service.”

In Toga prison, guards beat and then shot two Tigrayan soldiers on Nov. 4, a detainee there said. A second prisoner held at Toga, a former peacekeeper who served in Somalia, confirmed two killings. In Garbassa, two prisoners said six detainees had been killed and others injured so badly they had lost the use of limbs and eyes.

“I have seen the bodies being dragged from their rooms,” said a detainee there.

Three prisoners — one from the presidential guard and two from the Agazi commandos — were killed in July 2021 in Bilate training center after guards accused them of attempting to escape, said a witness previously held there. He described soldiers shooting at their bodies long after they were dead and throwing the corpses outside for the hyenas. And in a detention center near Didessa, near Nekemte town, at least five soldiers were killed and 30 others taken away and never seen again, a prisoner previously held there said.

He broke down as he listed the names he could remember. “I’m so sorry, they were my friends,” he said.

An airstrike on a kindergarten and the end to Ethiopia’s uneasy peace

Two imprisoned soldiers, accused of having mobile phones, were also killed by guards at a detention center in eastern Ethiopia between Harar and Dire Dawa, a witness said.

The imprisoned Tigrayan soldiers interviewed by The Post say none of them have had access to the International Committee of the Red Cross. Until a few days ago, their families had no idea what had become of them. At the end of October, the families of some soldiers killed in Mirab Abaya were informed about their deaths. Several relatives were told their loved ones had died honorable deaths in the line of duty. No other details were given.

Some of the survivors of the Mirab Abaya massacre who are still held there said they fear another outbreak of violence.

“I have a prayer book,” one prisoner there said. “Every day I pray to Mary to see my family again.”

NAIROBI — The scent of coffee and cigarettes hung in the hot afternoon air in a makeshift Ethiopian prison camp, prisoners said, as detained Tigrayan soldiers celebrated the holy day of Saint Michael in November 2021. Some joked with friends outside the corrugated iron buildings. Others quietly prayed to be reunited with families they had not seen in a year, when conflict erupted in Ethiopia’s northern Tigray region.

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