Tesfaye Befirdu, better known by his pen name Truayer, carries the weight of stories\u2014both personal and collective\u2014on the pages of his books. At 35, the Ethiopian author, poet, and teacher has become a voice for his country\u2019s rich heritage, weaving his own experiences into the larger tapestry of national memory.<\/p>\n

A father to a young son with his partner, Tizeta Ayalew, Truayer navigates the quiet discipline of the classroom and the restless energy of the writer\u2019s desk. His latest collection of short stories, Lamel<\/em>\u2014a word in Amharic signifying a habitual action in time\u2014was published in Italy, with the support of a close friend.<\/p>\n

Born in Wello, a rugged, mountainous region in the Amhara Regional State, Truayer grew up immersed in oral traditions. \u201cI grew up listening to elders tell stories under the moonlight,\u201d he recalled. \u201cThose narratives planted a seed in me.\u201d<\/p>\n

That seed blossomed into a literary career. Truayer earned an undergraduate degree in Ethiopian Languages and Literature from Arba Minch University, followed by a master\u2019s in Literature and Folklore at Addis Ababa University. Today, he teaches Amharic at Lyc\u00e9e Gebre-Mariam school, bringing with him a wealth of experience from institutions including the British International School and several language centers, where he has taught Amharic to foreign learners.<\/p>\n

Yet teaching has never been his sole calling. \u201cIn the classroom, I see how stories shape young minds,\u201d he said. \u201cThat inspires me to write even more\u2014to leave something behind for the readers.\u201d<\/p>\n

His writing journey, like many Ethiopian authors\u2019, has not been without obstacles. Publishing opportunities are rare, and writers often rely on informal networks of support. Truayer\u2019s first poetry collection, Tewash<\/em>, was published in 2018, also in Italy, thanks to the generosity of a close friend.<\/p>\n

He traces the origins of his creative spark to a bittersweet moment: a lost camera. After he and friends finished their national exams and were celebrating by taking pictures, the camera\u2014along with their captured memories\u2014disappeared. The loss devastated them. But Truayer turned his grief into art.<\/p>\n

\u201cI wrote a poem about how our happiness had become meaningless because we lost the camera,\u201d he said. \u201cThat was the spark.\u201d<\/p>\n

By the time he reached ninth grade, Truayer estimates he had read more than 300 books. That voracious reading, he says, taught him to shape words with meaning and purpose. \u201cWriting poetry requires deep emotion,\u201d he said. His African Literature professor during his undergraduate years, he noted, played a pivotal role in helping him refine his poetry. His work\u2014poetic yet grounded\u2014often explores themes of justice, identity, and belonging. Lamel<\/em> delves into the search for self in a shifting world, while his other works, including two artistic editions, touch on love, fairness, family, and the wisdom of elders.<\/p>\n

\u201cI mostly write about justice\u2014seeking fairness in love, in life\u2019s hardships, but also in hope,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n

 Literary Vision and Struggles<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

Reflecting on his craft, Truayer said that discovering a unique voice is a long and often solitary process. It requires time, persistence, and, above all, a commitment to writing\u2014again and again. He acknowledges a stylistic kinship with the renowned Ethiopian writer Adam Reta, noting that his own stories often incorporate flashbacks, nonlinear structures where endings loop back to beginnings, and elements of folklore and superstition\u2014techniques that mirror the oral storytelling traditions he grew up with.<\/p>\n

While his stories draw heavily on the wisdom of elders, cultural memory, and shared superstitions, Truayer believes his strongest connection is with readers of his own generation\u2014those who carry similar scars and aspirations.<\/p>\n

His work is increasingly finding an audience, both in Ethiopia and beyond. He has appeared in live television interviews, art exhibitions, poetry events, and online forums, sparking conversations about heritage and resilience. \u201cMedia exposure helps,\u201d he said, singling out Ethiopia\u2019s EBS TV for playing a pivotal role in introducing his work to a broader audience.<\/p>\n

Yet Truayer insists it is the themes of his writing\u2014questions of identity, justice, and belonging\u2014that resonate most deeply with readers. His latest book, Lamel<\/em>, published in 2024, is a collection of 17 short stories that took nearly three years to complete. A blend of personal introspection and fiction, the collection delves into political tensions, cultural shifts, and the social fabric of contemporary Ethiopia.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s about finding your place in a changing world,\u201d he explained. Among the standout stories, he highlights Ye-Fiker Guday (\u201cAll About Love\u201d) and Kedil Magest (\u201cIn the Aftermath of War\u201d)<\/em>, both of which explore the fragile nature of love and loss.<\/p>\n

The title story, Lamel<\/em>, holds particular meaning for Truayer. Inspired by the habitual gestures of his late grandparents, it contrasts how different generations react to similar situations. \u201cIt\u2019s not a literal story about them,\u201d he clarified, \u201cbut an exploration of generational perspectives through fictional characters.\u201d<\/p>\n

Kedil Magest<\/em>\u2014a powerful meditation on the human cost of war\u2014centers on two characters: a grieving mother who loses her only son to battle, and a young woman mourning her fianc\u00e9. \u201cIt\u2019s about the pain of losing loved ones without closure,\u201d Truayer said. And yet, he offers a glimmer of hope: both characters return to their homes, carrying their losses but also their resilience.<\/p>\n

Publishing Lamel<\/em>, however, was no easy feat. Truayer struggled with the limited opportunities and high costs of printing in Ethiopia. Ultimately, he turned to a friend in Italy, who helped print 1,000 copies\u2014an endeavor he could not have financed alone. \u201cIn Ethiopia, if you don\u2019t have a sponsor, you pay out of pocket\u2014and that\u2019s tough,\u201d he said. \u201cI was lucky. My friend covered all the printing expenses.\u201d<\/p>\n

Financial strain is a constant challenge for Ethiopian writers, he noted. High printing costs, low returns, and limited legal protections make it hard to sustain a literary career. Unauthorized copies of Lamel<\/em> have already surfaced.<\/p>\n

\u201cThere\u2019s little support from institutions or the government,\u201d he said. \u201cWe need grants, we need visibility. Still, I write because I must. Even if only a hundred people read my book, those hundred might carry its message forward.\u201d<\/p>\n

Milion Zewude, the editor of Lamel<\/em>, described Truayer\u2019s style as a poetic echo of Adam Reta\u2019s\u2014marked by reflection, emotional depth, and cultural nuance. \u201cThe characters in his stories are people we all know,\u201d Milion said. \u201cThey live like us, act like us. That\u2019s what makes his work so relatable.\u201d<\/p>\n

Truayer dreams of a day when Ethiopian literature finds a wider audience, both at home and abroad, with stronger institutional support for writers. He is nearing completion of a new poetry collection, Taye<\/em>, which promises to extend his signature blend of personal reflection and social commentary. He is also exploring a new creative frontier: adapting his short stories into film, an endeavor that signals his growing interest in visual storytelling.<\/p>\n

As Lamel<\/em> reaches readers, Truayer is preparing to transition his narratives from the page to the screen. \u201cI want to preserve the authenticity of the stories,\u201d he said, \u201cwhile exploring new ways to tell them.\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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