Story #5- Revolution

Story #5- Revolution
By Arman Hoque

We had just gotten comfortable in Ethiopia.   My father enjoyed living close enough to the UN that he could walk to work and come home for lunch.

We had hired a chauffeur to drive me and my Sister Sabrina to school in the morning,   bring us a hot lunch at lunch time and take us home at the end of the school day.

Since I was in 8th grade, I was also interested in learning how to drive, so I’d have our chauffeur give me lessons on the sly.  We still lived in the National Hotel, which was quite convenient and provided luxurious amenities.

The dark rumbling through all of our lives at the time was the war happening in the north.   The rebel forces of the EPRDF (Ethiopian People’s Revolutionary Democratic Front)were advancing closer to the capital.   The war in the outskirts started becoming more of a threat as it approached the back yard.  

During the Ethiopian Civil War, the EPRDF was a rebel group battling the Derg, a military regime led by Mengistu Haile Mariam that was effectively in power from 1974 until it was replaced by Mengistu’s People's Democratic Republic of Ethiopia in 1987.

The EPRDF consisted of four political parties: Tigray People's Liberation Front (TPLF), Amhara Democratic Party (ADP), Oromo Democratic Party (ODP) and Southern Ethiopian People's Democratic Movement (SEPDM).   It was the union of their forces that turned the tide on a decades old battle.

The civil war and mismanagement of resources by Mengistu’s Derg contributed to the famines that Ethiopia became known for in the 80s.   But now change was in the air.    More and more people started talking about “the situation” and what could happen if the government fell.

The boundaries of the city, which were normally guarded by soldiers became a perimeter, beyond which were off limits.   We would hear reports that the rebels were only 200 kilometres from the capital and advancing.

Meanwhile,   We tried to live life as normally as possible.   There was a curfew after dark, so most socializing was reduced.   However, for an imaginative 14 year old, there were always things to do, most especially with a few friends to explore with.   Because the National Hotel was government owned, my father feared if the government fell we might be displaced.   However, for as long as possible, we went to work, school and I’d go for walks in the large park behind the hotel and the adjacent Ghion Hotel.

My friends Sarwat and Ali would join my sister  and I for playing games or I would hang around with the boys Andreas and Bashar - we would take long walks and explore and more often than not, we would sneak a smoke.   There was no enforcement of age restriction so it was not uncommon for a 10 year old to be selling cigarettes on the street and certainly no problem for a 14 or 15 year old to buy from them.

Bashar was the son of the Iraqi ambassador and we would often be comparing the political happenings in Iraq with what was unfolding in Ethiopia.   At one point, my father purchased a shortwave radio to be able to pick up news signals when the local news broadcast went offline.   My father and I spent several evenings trying to pick up signals and although the rebels were close, there was always something else happening in the world that distracted what would become imminent.

When we realized that we would be facing a war zone in Addis Ababa if the rebels approached the city, my father started making plans.   When the International Community School that we attended suspended school, my father decided that the Americans who administered ICS were extra cautious and my sister and I were transferred to the local British community school.  Alll of a sudden, I was the new kid all over again.

By this time, I was more adept at making new friends and an impression.  The most challenging part of attending the British school was holding my tongue when they tried to teach us Christianity religion in school.  At the time, my religious views were not as broad - I did not want to be brainwashed, not realizing yet that that in itself is an indication I’d already been brainwashed.   I suppose I tolerated it because I had to.  I called the English teachers “sir” and “ma’am” because they demanded it, sat silent or slept through religion classes, and focused on making a mark again in a new community.

I would still be talking by phone to some of my old friends from ICS, like Emira, a cute Yugoslavian girl I had a crush on, but was stuck in the friend zone with.   Other friends would update me on what plans their parents were making.  The Americans were very proactive,  making plans for evacuation.   I learned from my father that the United Nations also had an evacuation plan for us if things got worse.   By worse, it meant if the rebels got too close to the capital.   After decades of stalemate in the civil war, it seemed to come as a complete surprise to everyone that the EPRDF was now nearing the door,   If not about to knock firmly and come in.   

The UN’s plan for us was to evacuate all non-core staff and all dependents to Nairobi Kenya.   They advised us that planes had been chartered in the event of such an emergency, but they would not evacuate untill the situation got really bad.   They would let us know.   In the meantime, we tried to live as normal as possible.  I have vivid memories of my Ma driving us to the English school.   I think we had laid off our chauffeur during the crisis or were between chauffeurs.

The soundtrack to my life at that time would have to be George Michael’s “Listen Without Prejudice Volume one “.   I listened to that relentlessly, while everyone around me listened to rap.   It made acclimating to the English school a little harder, especially when I was put on the spot to show my dance moves.    Then and to date, my dance moves were unique and not at all what you would call popular.  But I’d learned enough about charm to not be an outsider….  I passed muster and was accepted,   For however long that would be.

When we got the call from the UN,  the English school too had announced they were closing.  Unfortunately,  I then found out that the UN considered my father to be core staff.  We would be evacuated, but he would not be joining us untill later;  or untill we could return.

Then, as the rebels neared from the hundreds of kilometres away to just this far away, we were told to pack our bags - the rebels were approaching the city and we would be evacuated immediately upon further notice.  We got our bags packed and started making plans and expressing our concern for Abba, who would not be joining us.  Sarwat and Ali were evacuated with their mother a week before our flight was scheduled - the different UN agencies handled evacuations separately.

The main UN body, ECA (economic Commission gor Africa) had the largest populace and they started a tier system of evacuation.   Unfortunately, as it turned out, we were scheduled for the last flight before the rebels arrived.  More concerning was that since my father was senior staff,  he would have to stay and only my mother, sister and I would be evacuated to Nairobi, Kenya.

Unfortunately, the last flights were “appropriated” by ministers of the government, seeking to escape before the rebels’ now inevitable onslaught of the city.   It could pose execution for them - no one knew.    Now we didn’t have a plane and there were over fifty families of UN dependents unsure of what to do.   The UN security teams were like military officers guiding us out of the airport and back to the UN for debriefing.   They were going to try to commission military planes from Italy to arrive and evacuate us.   However, if the fighting reached the city, the airport would close.  Then we would be stuck in the war zone.   No one seemed to know what was going to happen, but everyone seemed to be doing their best to fend off panic.   For now, we were told to return home and lock ourselves in.

In a panic by then,  my father at first suggested we camp out in the UN compound to be protected when the wet hit the city streets.    However,   When we brought our bags to the UN, we realized it would be extremely uncomfortable.   My father then decided that the Hilton Hotel, being an international company may be protected a little more than the local National  hotel, which had been our home.   So we moved into a large suite that accommodated the four of us living in two rooms.

The hotel was buzzing with activity as there were international news crews from BBC and VOA just to name a few.  We would often chat about what updates were happening on the war front.   The rebels were just 10 kilometres away and this or that town had fallen as  the coalition marched through onward to the capital.

At night, we could see gunfire in the skies and hear the constant rat-a-tat-tat! Of AK-47s,  the preferred weapon of choice of the Ethiopian warriors.  Although we were afraid of the unknown and hoping to receive a call for evacuation, the next few days we spent getting used to the new environment.  I enjoyed speaking with journalists, who were generally  outspoken and not shy to give us updates on how close the rebels were and snippets of hints on what to expect from the rebels.   We were assured that the rebels wanted to overthrow the government, and therefore would not likely rampage.  However, in a war, the rule books are off the table.

One evening, we sat eating pizza as we watched streams of red in the sky, constant intermittent gunfire and occasional larger explosions that were shells as the militants. O fronted each other right outside the city.

By then, the airports had been closed due to the risk to flights from artillery or shells.   We would have to buckle down and weather the end of the revolution in a 5 star hotel, enjoying fine dining and occasionally going for a dip in the large pool.  It could have been a lot worse, but at the time, we were gripped by fear of the unknown.

As we spent day by day waiting for the rebels to arrive, the buzz around the hotel became busier and we were soon counting hours, waiting for the rebels to arrive.   It took a week since we had “missed” our evacuation plane.   The gunfire became more constant and the shelling grew more intense, with bursts of fire exploding in the skies at night.

When the rebel forces arrived, they surrounded the Hilton and sent a security force to tell everyone inside to stay in the compound for our own safety and security.   We felt hostage to the situation untilll the next day, a regiment of rebel soldiers arrived with a ranking general who would eventually become the new leader of Ethiopia to deliver a press release to the journalists.


I had discovered a new hobby in the meantime:  I was going around the grounds looking for bullets and shell casings.   I had a small collection and was looking for more while we were assured that the new government was working under international scrutiny to form itself into a new democracy.   Everyone applauded.   It seemed the western media loved the new direction the new government was headed.

Exactly a week after the new government seized control and the old government had fled, it was later alleged that some of the old government’s soldiers set fire to an ammunition depot that had housed munitions.   The resulting explosion blew the roofs off many houses and shattered all the windows of the Hilton.   It was sheer luck and fortune that we had been asleep under thick bed covers, as the blown in glass shattered and in dome places, had embedded into the opposite wall.  We were lucky to get through with minor injuries.   A few days later, the UN announced that the dependents were going to be airlifted out by military planes sent from Italy.   My father would be joining us later,  and we were still extremely worried, but as we boarded the plane to Nairobi, for us, the revolution was over.



Arman E. Hoque B.A., M.P.A., J.D.
Barrister, Solicitor, Notary Public
EmpyreanLaw:  Law Offices of Arman Hoque