Gelila: Through Sahara’s Dunes and Mediterranean Waves
Gelila’s activism took root in 2005 during Ethiopia’s contentious election, where rampant corruption and violence drove her to write articles supporting the opposition. Her defiance came at great personal cost—after days in jail, she escaped to Sudan, only to be arrested again and detained for two months. Undeterred, she joined a group of refugees on an uncertain 30-day trek across the Sahara Desert, eventually finding refuge in Europe. There, she co-founded ESAT Media, a platform for uncensored news that fueled Ethiopia’s democratic movements. Through all the hardship her country has been through, Gelila’s resolve never wavered. Now based in the U.S. and collaborating with the EMS team, she remains a tireless advocate for justice and freedom, amplifying the voices of those silenced in her homeland.
Election 2005
My journey as an activist began in 2005, during Ethiopia’s most turbulent election. People were tired of the existing regime and eager for change. The opposition gained overwhelming support, and peaceful protests, including one in Addis Ababa - the capital - that drew millions, showed this desire. In response, the ruling party interfered with the vote count and declared a state of emergency, banning gatherings and protests. The violence that followed led to clashes with security forces, arrests, and the killing of young people on the streets. I couldn’t stay silent.
At the time, I was young, ambitious, and well-known, working as a TV and radio journalist, actress, and running an event agency. I had a partner and a young son, just a few months old. I wasn’t a political activist, but the events unfolding around me left me with no choice. I began writing articles for newspapers in support of the opposition. It wasn’t long before the government shut down nearly all of my work.
I was arrested and held in jail for 20 days. They tortured my partner, an author, and we were forced to send our baby to relatives for safety. Fearing for my life, I left the country and made my way to Khartoum, Sudan. There, I began the arduous journey through the Sahara Desert to Libya, with the ultimate goal of reaching Italy and staying alive at least for my new born baby. Staying a part with him still now heart me deeper.
Leaving Ethiopia: What I Took With Me
When I left my home, I carried only a few precious items: a Bible in Amharic and a small Ethiopian flag, a photograph of my son, his tiny t-shirt to hold onto his scent, and my Brother’s shirt to remind me of him. One by one, I lost all of these except my son’s picture and Bible, which were soaked from the saltwater by the time I got to Italy.
In Khartoum, I applied for asylum with the United Nations. However, the Sudanese police arrested me, suspecting I was an Ethiopian double agent. They interrogated me for hours, and the conditions in the prison were harrowing. The officers had complete control over the prisoners, and it was especially dangerous for women. I did everything I could to maintain my dignity, never accepting favors from the guards, no matter how desperate the situation became.
Across the Sahara: The Journey to Libya
After my release, I was connected with a group of illegal immigrants travelling through the Sahara Desert to Libya. It felt surreal—just a short time ago, I had been preparing a program about the dangers of such treks for the radio while I was in Ethiopia. Now, I was living it.
There were about 40 people in our group, some from Ethiopia, others from Eritrea. Despite the ongoing conflict between our countries, we became like family. The journey, which was supposed to take 10 days, stretched into 30 grueling days. Along the way, an accident left one woman severely injured and bleeding. I suggested splitting the group so that those who were most vulnerable could receive help more quickly. It was a difficult decision, knowing the desert’s dangers, but we had no other choice. Myself and 12 others stayed, and others went further to seek help.
Emotionally, the hardest part for me was not allowing my vulnerability to show. The others were relying on me, and I had to be strong for them. But when it became too much, I would find a quiet place away from the group, and pray or scream in frustration.
Despite the hardships, the desert had its moments of beauty. I had never seen anything like the vastness and majesty of the Sahara. The sunrise over the sand was one of the most breathtaking sights I have ever witnessed. The desert became a place of reflection, and I found myself writing poems to capture the profound beauty surrounding me,suffering fear and Desert beauty is my poem title .
That journey kept my philosophy that Humanity is a priority more than anything else. Living in comfort often allows a person to become detached and self centered, focusing solely on their own needs, sometimes oblivious to the struggles of others. But in the desert, survival brought us together—people from vastly different backgrounds united by necessity. We shared what little we had, knowing that our lives depended on each other. It forged an unbreakable bond, a silent understanding that transcended words. We drank from the same bottle, ate from the same plate, and in doing so, became a family in the most profound sense of the word. There were moments of humor, too. One of the ladies, exhausted and frustrated, claimed she was going to leave the group and find her way out of the desert alone. We convinced her to stay with us.
At night, we would lie beneath the stars, feeling an unspoken connection to the universe. It was the most peaceful sleep I’ve ever had, despite the struggles we faced.
The Mediterranean: A Dangerous Crossing
After a month in the desert, we finally reached Libya, only to learn that the boat we were supposed to take to Italy had sunk, claiming many lives. We waited in uncertainty for a couple days for another boat. Finally, as we approached the shore under the cover of the night, we saw the Libyan police just a few meters away. If they caught us, we would be sent back to jail. I was with a Muslim family—a husband and his pregnant wife, Amene. As we waded into the water, Amena froze, too terrified to move. Her husband, already on the boat, called for her to get in, but she wouldn't. I began pleading with her as well, but nothing helped. Eventually, a man had to pull her into the boat by force. It was a heart-stopping moment, and for a moment, I thought we had lost her. The thought that we might witness the death of Amina and her unborn child was unbearable.
The journey wasn’t over, but our survival seemed more certain now. Once in Italy, I wrote about our ordeal. The article had a ripple effect—eventually, the Italian government allowed 39 pregnant women to travel to Italy by plane from Libya. It was a small victory, but a victory nonetheless.
A New Life in Exile
In Europe, I united with other exiled journalists. Together, we founded ESAT Media, an outlet that provided uncensored news about Ethiopia. We worked tirelessly from 2010 to 2018 to be the voice for those silenced, and covering the changing political landscape of our home country. When Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed came to power, we initially supported him, believing in his promises of change. But it wasn’t long before corruption crept into the new government, and I realized that the hope we had for reform was fading once again.
In 2018, journalists in exile were invited to return to Ethiopia, and I was able to see my son again after many years. But as time passed, the government’s corruption became evident once more, and I returned to Europe by force, and couldn't stay with my beloved son and family. I continued my work from abroad but in Italy, but I ran into problems with finding a home or getting government support, other things too which I don't want to mention for my family's dignity. Six months ago, I moved to the United States to start a new life. I joined the EMS team, where I continue to cover news from Ethiopia, never forgetting the journey that brought me here and the struggles of those still fighting for justice.
Reflecting on my journey, I am reminded of the strength it takes to endure and the hope that sustains us through the darkest times. Love, trust, strength, resilience, clear thinking, and above all, the hope of seeing tomorrow—like salt, which seasons the wilderness, the abyss, and the stormy sea, it will overcome! I carry this truth with me as I continue my work, amplifying the voices of the silenced and fighting for justice in my homeland.