By Maya Misikir, 17 June, 2021
Although Sidama region’s creation answered a long-standing autonomy demand, for many, the status quo remains unchanged.
For years, thousands assembled at Gudumaale, adorned with their traditional best, to eat, dance, and welcome the new year. Gudumaale is also where Sidama elders come together to resolve disputes, and, at times, make important decisions for the community.
In July 2019, the Gudumaale square in Hawassa, seat of the Southern Nations Nationalities and Peoples’ Regional State (SNNP), was poised to serve as the place where the Sidama people unilaterally declared their statehood.
After a protracted struggle for self-determination that spanned over a century—and in the absence of government response to a constitutional referendum request—thousands made their way to the square in the early morning of 18 July 2019.
Since then, autonomy-seeking Sidama people have won their long struggle and achieved statehood. Sidama is now a self-governing region endowed with the rights to enact its own laws and policies in many areas, and administer its resources as it sees fit.
But much has been lost in the process of gaining recognition—and many aspirations around self-rule still have yet to be realized.
The journey towards achieving statehood for Sidama spans over a century. Although the movement elicited differing responses at different moments, the quest itself remained persistent across time.
Stemming from the imperial era, the Sidama people had developed a sense of ‘separateness’ within the amassed Ethiopian empire. The group with an estimated present population of more than four million, cultivated a shared ethnic identity, grounded in culture, language, and collective history, which was seen in contrast and protected against assimilating forces.
Part of the Sidama collective history includes a long and active affinity for liberation movements. Activist movements were largely consolidated in the 1970s after the birth of the Sidama Liberation Movement (SLM)—the party that many associate inextricably with the nation’s self-determination, though one that has been recently split and stifled by the embrace of the ruling party.
In the 1980s, despite complaints of injustice that were echoed by many groups during the Derg military regime, the Sidama people had nominal recognition, along with other neighboring communities, as part of the Sidamo Province. This was also the case in the earlier imperial era; notwithstanding a very centralized rule, it was recognized as Sidamo Teklay-Guezat.
With the EPRDF’s establishment of multinational (or, to its detractors, ‘ethnic’) federalism in the early 1990s, this administrative structure was broken.
In an interview on 9 April with Ethiopia Insight, Desta Ledamo, the newly-minted region’s president, explained that, prior to the initiation of the federal state structure, Sidama formally requested recognition as a distinct people wanting to decide on its own fate.
And, for a brief moment, Sidama did actually get a taste of autonomy under the transition overseen by the EPRDF. In 1991, initial discussions for the country’s transitional charter led to the recognition of 14 self-governing regional states, including Sidama.
However, by the time the constitution was drawn up in 1995, the region was merged with four others to create the fantastically diverse yet shockingly singular SNNP.
Subsequently, decades of being just one component within a conglomerate region left many Sidama people feeling stifled in the expression of their identity and ability to govern themselves.
The quest for self-determination that this triggered has cost the lives of many in the service of securing greater administrative autonomy within the federation.
The question for Sidama statehood has ebbed and flowed with waves of popular protest propelling it forward at times and then strong-arm government backlash pushing it back.
The current constitution grants the right to self-determination for a group of people who share the same ethno-linguistic identity and culture, and “inhabit an identifiable, predominantly contiguous territory”. Beyond the common culture and history of the Sidama, its strong ethno-linguistic composition is another major pillar supporting the demand made by statehood proponents.
The argument has been that Sidama, as the fifth-largest ethnic group in the country, fitted the statehood standards squarely, and far more than others who acquired the status. For example, Harari, with a much lower population number, is a regional state. Many advocates questioned why there were differences here, in granting statehood to one and denying it to the other.
Another motivation for Sidama’s statehood was achieving a more appropriate fiscal arrangement. This argument asserted that fairer shares of benefits would be doled out to Sidama as a regional state, and was built on the position that the region is one of the country’s biggest contributors of foreign exchange revenues through its internationally acclaimed coffee industry.
Hawassa, where the country’s most lucrative industrial park is located, has been a site of contention in the economic debate. Designated as one of the five major industrial hubs in the country, the city is claimed by Sidama nationalists as part of their historical territory. This economic center generates significant revenues for the SNNP region, and benefits from its earnings are spread across the Southern Nations.
Achieving statehood would also guarantee the Sidama people a stronger voice in the country’s political decisions. As a regional state, Sidama would be able to exercise its constitutionally granted right to legislate its own laws and pass decisions under its jurisdiction.
With more say in their own politics, many argued that Sidama would have a better chance at good governance and politicians would be more accountable to the people who vote them into office.
Synonymous with self-determination
A long-time champion of the Sidama people’s right to self-govern is the SLM. The movement has evolved from a mere political entity to a symbol of self-determination and embodiment of Sidama culture, much like the Oromo Liberation Front in the neighboring region.
It began as a rebel group against the Derg regime, partly based in Somalia, in 1975, and engaged in guerrilla warfare. After multiple failed attempts to fight off the Derg military regime, its leaders fled the country until the Ethiopian Peoples’ Revolutionary Democratic Front (EPRDF) took over in 1991.
With the establishment of the National Election Board of Ethiopia (NEBE) a year later, the SLM embarked on its democratic struggle to become a recognized national party.
When Sidama was integrated into SNNP in 1994, members of the SLM were divided. Those who agreed with the decision stayed and joined forces with the Southern Ethiopian People’s Democratic Movement (SEPDM), a coalition of parties representing different nations and nationalities in the south.
Those who opposed this move faced persecution and fled the country, according to SLM party members that Ethiopia Insight interviewed in Hawassa in April.
SLM activists and advocates alike have faced brutal opposition from the government over the years, and popular rallies and protests, especially since the early 2000s, have been met with death and detention.
“We have been hunted down for years because of our involvement in this struggle,” said Tegegn Wolde, current head of ideology of the SLM and public relations director for Sidama’s recently established planning commission. “The history of the party is rife with assassination attempts, deaths, and imprisonment. I, myself, have been in prison three times.”
The Looqqe Massacre of 2002 is one stark example where a peaceful rally ended in the death and arrest of hundreds of demonstrators demanding statehood.
Three years later, when the Sidama zonal council, with overwhelming popular support, forwarded the recognition request to the Southern regional state council, it was met, yet again, with a government crackdown.
Dansita Assefa, like many other activists in Sidama, grew up hearing about the SLM. She joined the party while still very young, and quickly rose through its ranks, becoming a member of its central committee while still in secondary school.
“It was a very popular movement when we were young,” said the 26-year-old who now lectures law at Hawassa University. “The movement for self-determination was synonymous with the party.”
Despite the SLM’s popularity in the region, however, elections proved to be hopeless. The incumbent party, SEPDM-EPRDF, formally won all seats in 2015. With the rate of imprisonment and death that afflicted party members, and the disillusionment of futile election campaigns, many were hesitant to continue down this path.
“Party politics always has a bad ending,” said Dansita, who left the SLM shortly after finishing high school. “You get imprisoned or you die. It’s exhausting.”
Recharged by reform
When Abiy Ahmed became Prime Minister in April 2018, the push for Sidama’s statehood resurged once again. Abiy’s reconciliatory efforts towards exiled opposition parties, and the initial opening up of political space, gave the movement fresh momentum. Still, lessons from the past had taught many to be cautious when engaging with the government.
The Ejetto movement, the galvanizing youth force that propelled the Sidama statehood question to its conclusion, is the best example of this.
Those at the forefront of the movement are well acquainted with the legacy of the SLM and many had in fact been members of the party at some point. The weariness of formal political participation and its inevitable consequences had pushed activists to seek alternative means to pursue answers.
The word ejetto itself means ‘hero’ in the Sidama language. Kinkino Kia, a member of the movement and a legal academic, describes the Ejetto as a pan-Sidama movement. “Everyone who supported the Sidama cause was Ejetto,” he said. “The movement was centered on principles and not leaders.”
The intentional lack of formal hierarchies in the Ejetto movement served two purposes. It eschewed a leader because of the historical ramifications in spearheading the movement for statehood—most Ejetto activists were thus spared from being targets of government backlash.
Simultaneously, it hoped to save the movement from an inevitable leadership crisis and internal power struggles that have long characterized the country’s politics.
Ejetto youth, composed of men and women, organized multiple rallies in the early months of Abiy’s ascendency, including an all-women’s march, the Gaado Furra, where thousands of women walked in solidarity for the Sidama statehood cause.
The history of protesting and unique forms of conflict resolution led by women, named Yakka, has long been part of Sidama culture. In the same spirit, the historic Gaado Furra march showcased the political role of Sidama women following the call for a referendum.
In June 2018, after yet another protest that turned violent, Abiy was scheduled to visit Hawassa and address some of the movement’s questions.
Members of the Ejetto, including Kinkino, who were invited to speak at the gathering, began preparations for this important visit.
“We worked on raising awareness of the movement in order to have a meaningful conversation,” said Kinkino. “It was also intended to calm the youth and ensure a peaceful way to pose our questions for recognition and good governance.”
Leaflets on the question of Sidama statehood were printed and disseminated across weredas in the region. Ejetto activists organized dialogues promoting non-violence and expounding on the constitutionality of the Sidama question, according to Kinkino.
As promised, the Prime Minister held an audience with representatives from all factions during his visit to Hawassa. Young and old, men and women, including current and former zonal administrators, all chimed in voicing their concerns and questions.
The meeting culminated on a promissory note; the Sidama people would be afforded their constitutional right to a referendum.
Years of repressed political aspirations looked like they would finally find a resolution.
Consultations organized by the regional government among the Sidama people were conducted at all levels across the zone. Sidama Zone’s council passed the decision to assert regional independence with the required two-thirds of its members—an easy feat for a nation that had long cried for autonomy.
The next step, in line with the constitution, was for the regional government to hold the referendum within a year’s time. What followed, however, was silence.
Neither the Southern Nations State Council, with the mandate to organize the referendum, nor the Electoral Board, which was expected to administer it, made any substantive moves toward complying with the legal procedures.
For members of the Ejetto, like Dansita, holding the referendum was vital in steering the question away from abstract political theory to a concrete and legitimate request of the people.
As the months trickled by, the lack of response from the federal government resulted in widespread popular frustration. Three monumental protests took place, with tens of thousands filling the streets of Hawassa, placards in tow.
A few weeks before the one-year mark following the referendum request, discussions started taking place at Hawassa’s square, Gudumaale. Ejetto activists and community elders convened to discuss alternative steps to take in the face of continued silence from authorities.
These discussions resulted in bringing a multitude of sensitive issues to the forefront and, in the eyes of the movement’s critics, morphed what was once deemed a ‘constitutional question’ into a ‘national threat’. Legal interpretations proposing a unilateral declaration of statehood gained prominence and notoriety.
A day ahead of the one-year lapse for the referendum deadline, and also a day before the popularly known asraand-asraand–meaning eleven-eleven in Amharic: the eleventh day of the eleventh month in the Ethiopian Calendar—the city of Hawassa went under military siege.
Armed forces encircled Gudumaale square where the declaration was expected to be made, and Sidama’s old horrors were relived, once again. The confrontation between federal forces and protesters in the days that followed resulted in the destruction of lives and property and a de facto state of emergency was declared in the region.
As the electoral board and regional government passed responsibility between one another for the delayed vote, Sidama became the first nation to venture far enough to learn of the procedural gaps that lay in Ethiopia’s constitutional right to self-determination. But seeing a finish line in sight, the budding nation refused to give up—in spite of an onslaught of final challenges.
Eligibility of voters, postponement of set dates for registration and polling, and the removal of government officials raised doubt after doubt about the feasibility of the process.
But finally, after much deliberation, the National Election Board set a date for the referendum. On 20 November 2019, an overwhelming 98.5 percent of the votes tallied were cast infavor of statehood. Seven months later, on 18 June 2020, the Southern Region officially transferred its power to the Sidama Regional State.
Though there is still much to be done, Sidama has answered its biggest question.
Its long struggle for recognition as a regional state was celebrated commensurately. Heads of regional governments, prominent national organizations, along with members of the diplomatic community, were all present to mark the inauguration ceremony, on 22 February 2021.
Desta described the response as overwhelming. “We had the opportunity to showcase our identity and our culture,” he said. “We were, once again, seen as an equal.”
Regional states pledged over 200 million birr ($4.6 million) to ease Sidama’s anticipated financial burdens as a new region. Heads of the new regional government held a fundraiser at the Sheraton Addis, amassing an additional 100 million birr in support from private donors. This has helped the region invest in much-needed infrastructure projects like roads and power lines, according to Desta.
“We have allocated over two billion birr on development projects alone,” said Desta, who expects the relative calm that has accompanied statehood to further bolster investment in the region.
Upcoming plans for the region include widening health, electricity, and clean water access in the region.
Burgeoning investments are also expected to increase employment opportunities and internal revenue in the region. Hawassa is on the way to building another fully-fledged textiles-focused industrial park.
Hawassa Industrial Park, which was heavily impacted by the economic slowdown that followed the COVID-19 pandemic, is recuperating. This, along with renewed requests for investment permits, promises a stronger economic future according to the region’s administration.
The direct relationship with the federal government has also allowed for an accurate calculation of appropriate budgetary support, explained Desta, arguing that under SNNP, the region got less than its fair share.
“We were getting fractions from what the Southern Region was allotted by the federal government,” he said. “Sidama can now get what is rightfully its—a budget commensurate with its needs,” he said.
The regional states under the federal system receive, and are primarily dependent, on federal grants for running their respective states.
During the previous budget year, with Sidama under its umbrella, the Southern Nations region received a federal subsidy of 27.8 billion birr, while generating 8 billion birr from local sources like tax. It had then provided a grant amounting to 3.2 billion birr to Sidama Zone. Lower levels of administration, like zones and weredas, are reliant on these transfers from the regional government.
With Sidama as a standalone region, it is now eligible to receive direct federal grants. This fiscal year, which ends on 7 July, Sidama received 6.9 billion birr in direct federal subsidies—more than double the zone’s previous allocation. This, in addition to the 3.3 billion birr in revenue it raised, has significantly changed its fiscal footing.
For the upcoming year, the budget allocated for Sidama fiscal year stands at 8.06 billion birr—pending approval by parliament.
Corresponding costs for running new bureaus and institutions like the Hawassa College of Teacher Education, formerly run by the Southern Region’s Education Bureau, present new challenges, however.
Though there is a proposal for four zonal demarcations—Hawassa, Yirgalem, Bonsa, and Aleta Wondo—the region has opted to hold off on passing a decision on this for now. These are part of the austerity measures intended to prioritize development projects, as demarcation would entail further administrative and human-resource costs.
Still, the city of Hawassa is dotted with buildings bearing promising new signs for its regional bureaus.
The journey to statehood, as riddled with turmoil as it has been, has culminated with a somewhat comforting calm. Fears that ethnic minorities in the region would be attacked or expelled after Sidama achieved statehood have proved, thus far, to be largely unfounded, despite some of the exclusionary sentiments that accompanied the self-rule campaign.
After cycles of rallies and protests, which sometimes ended in death and destruction, relative peace and security has been welcomed eagerly by non-Sidama in the region, many of whom had been targets of violent clashes in the past, according to interviews Ethiopia Insight conducted with non-Sidama in the region.
In recent years, Hawassa residents spoke of seeing their neighbors leave towns where they were born and raised for fear of violence. “We were living in fear the past few years,” said an Amhara resident who chose to remain anonymous. “We lost our homes, our property, and we were eyed with suspicion by friends and neighbors.”
The situation was even worse outside Hawassa, explained the respondent whose family lives in the town of Yirgalem, nearly 50 kilometers from the regional capital.
“It has changed now,” said another respondent. “I am happy that we have peace.”
Despite this silver lining that statehood has brought for Sidama and non-Sidama alike, numerous non-Sidama residents expressed to Ethiopia Insight that the favoritism for Sidama people in employment has reached new heights.
“I don’t believe this is unique to this region,” said a Hawassa resident, who was born and raised in the town of Kembata. “But it is unthinkable to get a post in the regional bureaus if you are non-Sidama. A vacant post will remain open rather than be filled by a non-Sidama.”
Another complained of colleagues being passed over in promotions and work opportunities despite speaking Sidama, the working language of the region, out of favoritism for Sidama colleagues. Others yet, who had secured posts prior to statehood, shared stories of suffering ridicule at work.
Despite the heterogeneity of Hawassa, most government office positions are taken by ethnic Sidama, residents claim. Yet, there is agreement that the troubles mainly brew from regional officials.
“I never questioned growing up who I was ethnically,” said the respondent from Kembata. “This has changed in the past few decades. But the people in government today are the same ones that were persecuting pro-Sidama activists [during the recent statehood campaign]. This is what has perplexed me.”
A well-placed researcher also expressed concerns, saying that investment by non-Sidama in Hawassa has dropped and other SNNP zonal governments do not do their business in Hawassa anymore. “I found the city almost dead and it is partly related to a very high sense of insecurity that started with the youth movement,” they said. “The fact that SNNP is fragmenting with more new states on the way has also created a sense of uncertainty.”
In another delayed referendum, voters in five SNNP zones and one special wereda are set to decide on 6 September whether to create a Southwest Regional State, while, so far, the demand for statehood from the Wolayta, the region’s second-most populous group after the Sidama, and several other zones has been frustrated.
It is still too early to assess the success of Sidama Regional State. But, as some see statehood as a means for many ends, the pursuit of good governance is an end that remains untied.
A crucial aim for self-governance has been to create a just and able leadership. In its current administrative structure, and in between two election seasons, zonal leaders have merely been upgraded to higher levels of government, and efforts at all-inclusive representation from all factions have been neglected. This consolidation of power has sowed some distrust.
Sidama, and the country at large, may still be undergoing reform, but it lacks a merit-based approach to appointments, according to Samuel Belayneh, a former Ejetto activist who now serves as deputy head of the region’s Culture, Tourism and Sport Bureau.
“As it stands, corruption is rampant and appointments are based on group affiliation and loyalty,” he said. “We need to assess the qualifications of people in leadership positions and whether they are fit for the positions they hold.”
While ethnic affiliations are cited by non-Sidama as the basis for employment opportunities, the political appointments are critiqued as being based on loyalty to those in power.
This familiar system for climbing ranks in government deviates from what the Ejetto movement had desired from statehood. The select few appointments of prominent activists is seen by many as merely a superficial attempt to quell anger.
Political appointments have also been granted to members of the SLM, like Tegegn, who views his role in the state’s planning commission as separate from his party responsibilities. Some former activists, however, have a more acute idea of how party politics impacted their recent luck.
“I came to this position through the efforts of the movement and the people,” said Samuel. “I was at the forefront of the movement —this opportunity has not been offered to many others.”
Ejetto activists like Samuel, and Maate Mengesha, who has been placed as deputy head of Sidama’s Health Bureau, might only be tokens of representation—but countless others have fared much worse.
Though many imprisoned Ejetto activists have gradually been released, nearly 150 are still languishing in prison, according to accounts from family members who have found nowhere to turn.
Those that have been released were too prominent to keep locked up, like journalists from Sidama Media Network (SMN), the media house associated with the statehood movement.
Founding member of SMN and current head of Sidama Development Association, Getahun Daguye, spent nearly a year in jail after the rounds of arrests that took place following the date set for the unilateral declaration of statehood. But he and seven others arrested alongside him were released after eleven months in prison for the “national good”.
Upon his release, however, both Getahun and his deputy were denied from getting back their posts by the media network’s board of directors. After months of back and forth contesting the decision with the board, Getahun received an official letter that stated that he could not be reinstated in his role on the “grounds that media heads cannot be politically affiliated”.
SMN was a powerful tool in mobilizing the community and promoting Sidama issues. Previously, there were only two hours a week discussing Sidama affairs on the regional broadcaster. Its influence made it a government target, explained Getahun.
“This is a critical time for the media network, as it can play a significant role in the transition period that Sidama is going through,” he said. “But it is being pushed to the sidelines” and, according to Getahun, may soon be taken under government ownership.
For those who got lucky with their appointments, participation may serve as one way to redress the long history of alienation of opposition party members. Without the free flow of competing ideas, however, it will ultimately result in meshing people into the existing government machinery.
Ultimately, the appointments appear to have a sizable trade-off: an alliance with the ruling Prosperity Party (PP).
Political unions have been one of the distinct characters of the country’s recent foray into reform.
Almost as soon as Abiy burst onto the scene, he proposed a merger of the four parties under the EPRDF, claiming this would bring a new shared vision for the country. It caused disagreement with the Tigray People’s Liberation Front at the time and, since then, that dispute has devolved into full-blown warfare.
The same degenerating situation in Tigray has served as one of the driving reasons behind the recent temporary coalition between PP and Sidama’s longest-running party, the SLM.
In a process that took nine months to negotiate, promoting a smooth transition during a tumultuous time for the country as a whole, was key to SLM’s decision to merge with PP.
“If similar divisions continue in other parts of the country, it will bring the country to its knees,” said Dukale Lamiso, chairman of the SLM. “How will we be able to criticize one another without a country?”
Party members were also wary of what going head-to-head with PP might involve.
“We wanted to avoid further conflict,” said Dukale. “The party has paid a heavy price for the past 40 years.”
For the ruling PP, the move can be explained as an effort to co-opt a potential competitor and thus regain faltering legitimacy in the region.
One clear advantage of the merger for SLM is that its members may finally secure an ever-elusive majority vote and have their voices formally represented in the local and national governments.
With mutual benefits apparent, the PP hopes that the coalition will serve as a model.
But that the success of the coalition heavily depends on the receptiveness of the government is not lost on Sidama. So far, PP has yet to meet some of the agreed terms of the alliance that were finalized two months ago.
These include agreements on reparations for SLM members and their families who have lost people in the fight for liberation, and backing for formal inclusion of the history of the SLM movement nationally.
Eight other political parties, including the home-grown Sidama People’s Democratic Organization, the newly formed Sidama Unity Party (SUP), Ethiopian People’s Revolutionary Party, Ethiopian’s Citizens for Social Justice (Ezema), and All Ethiopian Blue Party, are running for seats in Sidama’s upcoming regional elections—but none come even close to the popularity that SLM has among the Sidama people.
But, in the first election with Sidama as a regional state, the liberation front, after four decades of fighting for greater autonomy, will be represented in ballot boxes by the outline of the lightbulb: the logo of PP.
The decision of the SLM to merge displeased those that saw the party as a symbol of defiance against government forces. So much so that dissidents within the party’s internal circle left to form the Sidama Unity Party (SUP) last January, leaving Sidama nationalists’ most popular party fractured.
Members on both sides point fingers at one another for usurping the trajectory of the party’s cause. A strong point of contention is the influence of party members in the diaspora in the affairs and decision-making processes of the SLM.
“We cannot take orders from those who are not living in the country,” said Dukale. “They do not have the full picture of the realities that are unfolding on the ground.”
The party, which is also supported through contributions from abroad, denied requests from diaspora members to be appointed as global coordinators.
Dukale, who has been a member of the SLM for nine years, was voted along with others into its Central Committee three years ago. He and his colleagues are now considered traitors by the SUP.
“The party has been bought over,” said Lema Hoyato, SUP’s chairman and one of the founding members of the SLM. “They used craft to infiltrate the party and sold out what is one of the greatest legacies of the Sidama.”
A legal battle ensued, including a petition to the election board, which ruled that the current leadership of SLM party were the legitimate representatives. But SUP members seem undeterred, running for both regional and federal seats in the upcoming elections.
“The Sidama people know who we are,” said Lema. “They understand the theatrics of what has happened and we are competing at every level with this hope.”
Following the election season, SLM plans to change its name to the Sidama Democratic Party, following a pattern established by other former rebel movements. Party members explain that the old name of the party has outlived its purpose.
“We want to change its identifier because the larger mission has been achieved,” said Tegegn. “We are on the next chapter of our struggle and a movement is not a government.”
SUP members, on the other hand, intend to reclaim the name SLM, signaling that the defining characteristics of the movement must not be forgotten.
Thus, the struggle continues as the fight for recognition enters a new phase in the political arena.
Though Sidama’s quest for statehood has achieved its most crucial aim, the journey is yet unfinished, as fundamental questions around gaining the benefits of enhanced autonomy remain contested.
But like the origins of the question itself, there remains a uniting sentiment around statehood: despite an inauspicious start, many proponents of the change agree that time is on Sidama’s side.