Ethiopia: Mr. Obang Metho Accepted Annual SEED Award
May 27, 2014
Mr. Obang Metho’s Acceptance Speech: “The Journey to a New Vision for Ethiopia” At the 22nd SEED Annual Award ceremony
May 25, 2014
Washington DC.
Washington DC.
I would like to deeply thank distinguished members of the Society of Ethiopians Established in Diaspora (SEED) and my fellows’ citizens of Ethiopia for this recognition. I am both humbled and honored to be here tonight as a recipient of this award. I receive this honor with deep gratitude and great humility. I want to acknowledge others who have helped make this possible because, although I am accepting this award, this is not only about me. I did not come to this point alone, but must recognize the countless individuals, too many to name, who have contributed to this work along the way. Without them there would not be anything to acknowledge, just like the African proverb that says, “If you want to go faster, go alone, but if you want to go further, go together.” My thanks and appreciation goes to all of these people who have helped us go further. Our journey together has been one of many challenges, but because it has been shared, it has brought unexpected friendships, joys and fruit.
I was told that this award was in appreciation for the work done in defense of the freedom and civil rights of our people, especially, the under-represented Anuak. I am very emotionally touched by this statement, especially the inclusive phrase, “our people,” which embraces Anuak, as well as other Ethiopians, both mainstream and minorities, as part of the whole of people of Ethiopia. Do you realize how revolutionary this is? Ten years ago this never would have happened. It is an indication of a major paradigm shift in our thinking. It is a cornerstone of a New Ethiopia where humanity comes before ethnicity or other identity factors and where we care about our Ethiopian brothers and sisters because no one will be free until all are free! The journey has not been easy, nor is the journey over, but if we travel together, we will go further and possibly faster, than any of us expected.
This journey began on December 13, 2003, with a desperate phone call from Gambella, Ethiopia. A massacre of Anuak leaders had begun in Gambella, perpetrated by the TPLF/EPRDF Defense Forces, accompanied by civilian militia groups, incited and equipped by the military. Within three days, over 425 Anuak had been brutally killed in an effort to eliminate the strongest opposing voices to the extraction of possible oil reserves on Anuak indigenous land without first consulting the people.
When I first saw the names of those killed, I knew over 300 of the victims. They were family members, friends and colleagues in the development work I was carrying out in Gambella. As I grieved for the loss of their lives in the days and weeks that followed, I realized that the only option for a better future for the Anuak and the people of Ethiopia would not come from retaliation, but only from transformation to something better than the cycle of revenge we had seen played out in the past. Yet, despite this personal revelation, today’s reality of me standing up for the freedom of Ethiopians and speaking for a united Ethiopia did not come easily.
For example, being a minority—who looks very different from mainstream Ethiopians—complicates the journey even more than the ethnic differences among those in the mainstream, many of whom look alike. However, for the same reason, having to work through the obstacles these differences presented has been a critical component in finding my way in the journey to a more inclusive Ethiopia. Even though Ethiopians have often spoken of Ethiopia as the symbol of black pride; on the ground, the most dark-skinned, African-looking Ethiopians have suffered the greatest discrimination and marginalization.
How we value other human beings says a lot about our society and in the Ethiopia of 2003, we were in grave trouble. Thankfully, it is improving today; but not because of the faked unity under the TPLF/EPRDF’s model of ethnic federalism, which is simply a pretension of such, but instead because Ethiopians are actually changing. Back in 2003, things were very different.
Shortly following the 2003 massacre in Gambella, the handful of Anuak living in Washington DC organized a protest in front of the Whitehouse to condemn the killing of the Anuak. The protest was announced on Ethiopian radio, through flyers at Ethiopian shops and restaurants and through word of mouth; however, despite the fact that there were over 300,000 Ethiopians in DC at the time, only ten Anuak and four other Ethiopians from the mainstream—close friends of the Anuak—showed up for the rally. Anyone can give various reasons for the poor response; but regardless, it was a sign to the Anuak that they were in this crisis alone. Because they had no one else standing with them, they realized how vulnerable they were and that if they were going to survive as a people in Ethiopia, they had to stand up by themselves.
This led to my advocacy work, which began immediately, but later to the formation of an organization, the Anuak Justice Council (AJC). Its mission was to protect the rights and well being of the Anuak wherever they were found. Initially, the work for the Anuak stayed focused on the Anuak; however, three things happened to change our direction and to bring us along the journey to where we are today.
1. In February 2005, I was in Washington DC on my way to meet with former Senator Russell Feingold when I hailed a taxi to take me to the Senate building. A very friendly Ethiopian taxi driver picked me up and warmly greeted me, calling me his African brother. He asked me where I was from. I suggested he guess. He rang out a series of countries, including Kenya, Uganda, Tanzania, Nigeria, Sudan, Cameroon, and Senegal when I stopped him and told him to go back to East Africa. He said he had mentioned almost every country in East Africa and I said, no, not all of them. He then added Burundi, Rwanda, the Congo and the Central African Republic before giving up. I urged him to continue. He then asked for a multiple choice question. I said: a) Ethiopia, b) Eritrea, c) Somalia or d) none of the above. Before I could finish the last, he said it was none of the above. I told him he had gotten it wrong. He argued with me, telling me he was not wrong for I didn’t look Ethiopian, Eritrean or Somali. I told him, no, I am from Ethiopia. He again argued saying, “For sure, you are not an Ethiopian—prove it!” I then said, “How are you?” in Amharic, Oromo and Tigrinya. When I said this, he said, “Wow, you speak Amharic?” Yet, he still was not convinced until I told him I was an Ethiopian from Gambella and he finally got it. When I arrived at the Senate building, he refused to take any money for my fare; saying with warmth that I was his countryman.
Our conversation impacted me and changed my entire viewpoint. He knows this now as he and I have talked about this since that time; however, as I walked into the Senate building for my appointment, I thought, wow, here I am, coming to meet with US policy makers to advocate for the rights of the Anuak and yet, with someone from my own country, I had to speak the Amharic language to convince them I was Ethiopian. I began to grasp the fact that the battle ahead was much larger than I had thought. I realized that not only were other Ethiopians not standing with the Anuak as we were trying to seek justice, but also that I had to even prove my belonging as an Ethiopian. In other words, the justice I was seeking would never come to the Anuak unless it came to all Ethiopians, which required acknowledging our common cause and common bonds that at this point were nonexistent. The problem was deeply entrenched in the system and required a systemic approach and a change of thinking.
As I met with the senator, I wondered how many other Ethiopian people, especially from the minorities, had no one abroad to advocate for them in situations of distress. After this experience, I brought it up to the AJC board, making a case that from then on, we had to advocate for all Ethiopians. Some of those on the board agreed and some did not, but later the decision was approved by all members.
As I met with the senator, I wondered how many other Ethiopian people, especially from the minorities, had no one abroad to advocate for them in situations of distress. After this experience, I brought it up to the AJC board, making a case that from then on, we had to advocate for all Ethiopians. Some of those on the board agreed and some did not, but later the decision was approved by all members.
2. The second impactful event on this journey occurred on June 11, 2005 following the flawed 2005 national election. This was the day the first report came out documenting the first killings of protestors by Ethiopian security forces. That day, nine Ethiopians from the mainstream had been killed as they were peacefully demonstrating on the streets of Addis Ababa. By that same afternoon, a rally to condemn the killings had been called by Ethiopians, which took place in front of the Whitehouse. Because I was in Washington DC at the time, I attended the rally. Even before the event started, nearly a thousand people had gathered. Many more people continued to join them as time progressed. There were slogans, the reading of poems, and loud speakers amplifying phone conversations with family members of victims in Ethiopia so all in the audience could hear.
