For more than a decade, Ethiopians from every walk of life have poured their savings, salaries, and even sweat into a single national project: the Grand Ethiopian Renaissance Dam (GERD). To some, it is a power plant. To many more, it is a promise — of dignity, of independence, of light in homes long dark.
That promise has inspired extraordinary sacrifice. Farmers sold livestock, teachers gave up months of pay, and millions bought government bonds they could scarcely afford.
The result now towers on the Blue Nile: a dam so vast it has become not only the largest hydropower project in Africa but also a symbol of Ethiopia’s determination to stand on its own.
In a small neighborhood of Shashamane, AselefechTegegne remembers the day she bought her first bond for the Dam as vividly as if it were her own holiday.
“It was June 13,” she says with a quiet smile, proud that she can recite the date without hesitation. For her, it was more than a financial decision. “I love the dam,” she adds. “Abbay is ours. There is nothing more important than this.”
Aselefech earns her living in Buna Tera, a village on the edge of Shashamane, where she sells plastic bottles for recyclers and parcels of firewood packed in small plastic bags for her regular customers. More than a decade ago, while sitting at her usual roadside spot, she first heard the crackling radio broadcast announcing the dam’s groundbreaking.
“I was sitting on a stone covered with plastic and rags to make it softer,” she recalls. “Then I heard the voice of the late Prime Minister Meles Zenawi, saying that our dam would break the history of poverty and helplessness. That we would build it—without foreign loans, without foreign aid. The government and the people, together.”
She took the call literally. Months later, Aselefech walked into a bank, emptied her rainy-day savings, and bought her first GERD bond—on June 13, 2011.
Since then, while raising two children, she has continued buying bonds faithfully—sometimes four, five, even six times in a single month. Her total contributions have now surpassed 1.1 million birr.
“I have given away more than 140,000 birr worth of bonds as gifts,” she says, her pride plain. For her, the dam is no abstraction but a personal legacy. “When I think about handing it down to the next generation, what I feel is joy. Boundless joy.”
Aselefech’s devotion is far from unique. Across Ethiopia, her story echoes thousands of times over. For more than 13 years, the Dam has become more than a construction project—it has evolved into a social contract, binding citizens together in a rare moment of shared vision.
From Addis Ababa to the rural coffee zones, bond receipts hang on living-room walls like medals of honor. Farmers have pooled their harvest earnings to purchase bonds in their village’s name. Teachers contributed from their modest salaries and urged students to collect coins for the dam fund. Housewives sold jewelry; diaspora communities staged concerts and fundraisers; youth groups marched in rallies and organized running events, donating every birr to what they saw as the nation’s future.
Each contribution, however small, carried the same message: Ethiopia would build this dam with its own hands.
Hundreds of kilometers from the capital, in the small Tigrayan town of Abiy Addi, Kiros Assefa (MD), a physician at the state-owned Abiy Addi General Hospital, tells a story of steady sacrifice.
“A month after the cornerstone was laid in March 2011, my colleagues and I contributed a month’s salary to buy bonds,” he recalls.
The following year, after the sudden death of Meles Zenawi—who had championed the dam from its inception—Kiros renewed his pledge. “I thought I should increase my contribution if I truly wanted to see the project succeed,” he says. “I vowed to keep giving until the dam was completed, no matter what.”
He purchased bonds worth three months of his salary. Soon after, he visited the construction site.
“I thought I could imagine scale,” says the father of seven. “But when I saw it with my own eyes, I was overwhelmed. It was beyond anything I had pictured. At that moment, I knew my contribution was not enough.”
When he returned home, Kiros signed an agreement committing half of his monthly salary to additional bond purchases. “Some people questioned my decision,” he admits. “But I believed that a more comfortable life for my family could come after the completion of GERD.”
Over the years, he has purchased 115 bonds. The war in Tigray, which cut off communications and commerce for nearly three years, halted his contributions—a pause he still regrets. “As soon as peace was restored under the Pretoria agreement, I went back to buying bonds,” he says. He laments losing three bond receipts during the conflict, describing the loss as “the way someone would mourn a gold medal.”
“Abbay means development, unity, peace,” he says. “This is not just a dam. It is Ethiopia itself.”
The Grand Ethiopian Renaissance Dam is more than an engineering feat. At its core, it is the story of collective determination. From the start, Ethiopians were called not simply to witness the project but to own it—financially, politically, and emotionally.
That spirit of unity, says Aregawi Berhe, PhD, director general of the Public Participation Coordination Office for GERD, was the foundation of its success. “This project was born in the hearts of the people,” he says. “From the start, it transcended age, religion, ethnicity, and politics. Everyone was united. That is why it succeeded.”
Data obtained by The Reporter from the Office shows that more than 23.6 billion birr has been raised from the public in bonds and gifts. Just this week, Ethio Telecom announced that mobile phone users had donated more than 800 million birr through a number set aside solely for contributions to the dam.
Beyond financial contributions, Ethiopians who lacked the means to buy bonds also gave their labor.
“If the government had been required to pay salaries to all those who worked on the site without compensation, the bill would have exceeded 86 billion birr,” Aregawi said.
Successive Ethiopian governments had long dreamed of taming the Nile, he explained. “From Haile Selassie to the Derg, there was interest but no implementation,” he said. “It was only when the people were mobilized that it became possible to turn this vision into reality.”
Even then, the path was anything but smooth.
Geopolitical tensions, contractor disputes, design flaws, and political turmoil slowed progress and, at times, threatened to derail the project. But renewed public mobilization revived it. “We organized, we corrected the mistakes, and we inspired the public again,” Aregawi said. “The result is that the dam is now entering full operation.”
“This project showed us our potential,” said Aregawi. “It proved that we can stand on our own, use our resources, and finish what we start.”
For Aselefech, every bond purchase was an act of patriotism. For Kiros, it was a promise to his children: a country capable of delivering light, water, and opportunity. For both, it was deeply personal.
“I will keep buying bonds as long as I live,” Aselefech said. “It is my contribution to Ethiopia’s future.”
The dam’s significance stretches beyond Ethiopia’s borders. Egypt and Sudan have long criticized it, fearing for their share of the Nile. But Ethiopia insists its use of the river is fair, legal, and moral. Now that electricity is being generated without reducing downstream flows, officials argue, GERD stands as proof of Ethiopia’s responsible stewardship.
“This is our right — to use our resources fairly,” Aregawi said.
He sees the dam as a tool of economic diplomacy. Ethiopia already exports electricity to Kenya, Sudan, and Djibouti, with plans to extend lines toward Tanzania and Uganda. “This is not just about electricity,” he said. “It opens the door to regional integration, hard-currency earnings, and a foundation for peace.”
For many Ethiopians, the GERD is not just a dam on the Blue Nile, but a collective choice. Millions decided, often at great personal cost, that it must exist. Their determination, as Aregawi put it, “turned a dream into reality and gave Ethiopia a new place in the world.”
The work, he insists, is not over. “Our next responsibility is to integrate the public’s participation into the government’s current plan,” Aregawi said. That means documenting what has been achieved so far and ensuring the “social capital” created does not lie dormant but fuels other national projects.
“This is not short-term,” he added. “For the next few years, this will remain our focus. Then the government will inevitably roll out new strategies, as it must. But the capital we have built through this dam must be directed to whatever comes next. That is why our office exists.”
Looking ahead, he framed GERD as part of a continuum, not a conclusion. “Our relationship with the people and the government is ongoing,” he said. “The questions of tomorrow will be shaped by the groundwork we are laying today.”
