On an overcast October morning in Addis Ababa, the quiet corridors of the Ethiopian National Archives and Library Agency (NALA) hummed with the whir of old recordings and the flicker of moving images. Inside the Blatta Merse Hazen Wolde Qirqos Hall, a small crowd of archivists, artists, broadcasters, and historians gathered—bound by a shared reverence for the fragile yet enduring power of audiovisual memory.

The occasion was Ethiopia’s commemoration of the World Day for Audiovisual Heritage, an annual observance established by UNESCO to honor the images and sounds that shape humanity’s collective memory. Celebrated globally every October 27th, the day serves both as tribute and warning: history is not only written in ink, but recorded in voices, gestures, and sound.

“Audiovisual archives tell us stories about people’s lives and cultures from all over the world,” reads a UNESCO statement that guided the day’s reflection. “They represent a priceless heritage—an affirmation of our collective memory and a valuable source of knowledge, since they reflect the cultural, social, and linguistic diversity of our communities. They help us grow and comprehend the world we all share.”

In Addis Ababa, that truth resonated with particular force. The idea that a single photograph, a broadcast, or a melody could carry generations of meaning hung in the air—an unspoken theme of the gathering, where the country’s renewed efforts to preserve its audiovisual past took center stage.

The familiar saying that a picture is worth a thousand words found fresh urgency in this context. Ethiopia’s films, sound recordings, and broadcast archives are not relics of nostalgia; they are living documents of social transformation, creative endurance, and national identity.

This year’s commemoration carried special significance. It coincided with the official establishment of the Ethiopian National Committee for the Registration of Documentary Heritage, a body tasked with ensuring that the country’s audiovisual treasures are inscribed in UNESCO’s Memory of the World Register.

The committee’s mission extends far beyond cataloguing. It is about reclaiming narratives—safeguarding the collective memory contained in photographs, films, and recordings that tell the story of Ethiopian life in all its texture and complexity.

For Serse Feresebhat, Director General of NALA, the moment was both celebration and reckoning.

“Indeed, perhaps the Agency has not done as much extensive work in this area as it has in its 82 years of work in the field of manuscripts,” he admitted, speaking with measured candor. “However, the fact that we have managed to collect such rare and valuable audiovisual materials cannot be overlooked.”

He reminded the audience that while most Ethiopians associate NALA with books and manuscripts, the agency is also the custodian of the nation’s sonic and visual memory—from the rhythms of early music recordings to the first flickering reels of television drama.

Tucked away in its vaults lies a trove of vinyl records, magnetic reels, cassettes, VHS tapes, and 35mm and 16mm film. Together, they trace the nation’s artistic and social evolution—some dating back to the dawn of Ethiopian broadcasting, when the voice of an announcer or the strain of a folk tune carried the optimism of a new era.

State Minister of Culture and Sports Nebiyu Baye, who attended the commemoration, described the country’s audiovisual legacy as “truly remarkable.”

“From the German recording of Negadras Tesema Eshete onward,” he said, “we possess over a century of musical recordings that trace a living history.”

That living history encompasses not only the music of celebrated performers but also the soundscapes of ordinary life—radio dramas, public speeches, folk performances, and the first televised debates. Together, they capture the rhythm of a nation growing through song and story.

Nebiyu also reflected on Ethiopia’s early and often overlooked role in African cinema. Films such as Hirut Abatua Manew? (Whose Daughter is Hirut?), produced more than 60 years ago, stand, he noted, as expressions of modernity that predated the rise of many other African film industries.

Cinema in Ethiopia, he suggested, has always been more than entertainment—it has been a mirror of social transformation, often created amid scarcity yet rich in ambition. That Ethiopia could produce such work so early, he said, speaks to a long tradition of visual storytelling.

“Even in those early films,” Nebiyu added, “you can see the desire to document, to express, to modernize. That, too, is heritage.”

But beyond nostalgia, the day’s conversations carried a note of urgency: the need to protect and digitize these fragile records before time erases them.

For decades, Ethiopian Radio and Ethiopian Television have amassed vast repositories—roughly ninety and sixty years’ worth, respectively—of audio and visual recordings. Together, they form not only a technical archive but a spiritual one: the voices of musicians, statesmen, poets, and ordinary citizens whose lives unfolded through sound and image.

Yet preserving these archives demands resources, expertise, and institutional resolve. Magnetic tapes decay; film reels corrode; even digital files can vanish with a power surge or a forgotten password. A proposal emerged during the event: to permanently deposit the archival copies held by both broadcasters at NALA, where they could be restored and safeguarded under one national roof.

The idea resonated deeply. Centralizing the collections, many argued, would improve accessibility for students and researchers while allowing for professional restoration and long-term preservation.

Audiovisual archives, speakers emphasized, are not static relics but living resources—indispensable for education, research, and the understanding of Ethiopia’s linguistic diversity, musical evolution, and media history. For scholars tracing the shifts in Amharic broadcasting or filmmakers studying the roots of local cinema, these collections bridge the distance between past and present.

Inside NALA’s exhibition area, visitors found that bridge made tangible. A modest display of sound, video, and photographic artifacts offered intimate glimpses into the country’s creative memory.

Old vinyl records, their labels fading but still legible in looping Amharic script. A weathered reel of film, coiled in its metallic case. Black-and-white photographs of early television studios—technicians in crisp shirts, standing proudly beside bulky cameras. These were not merely relics but time capsules, holding the laughter, applause, and dialogue of another era.

And as the day’s reflections made clear, preservation is not a backward-looking act but a creative one. To restore a film, to digitize a fading broadcast, to catalogue a forgotten voice—these are acts of storytelling. They ensure that the voices which built a nation can still be heard, long after the reels stop spinning.

For three agonizing days in February of that year, the Italians led a campaign of indiscriminate violence in retaliation for the assassination attempt. Dubbed the “Butcher of Fezzan”for his brutality in Libya, Graziani was determined to inflict terror on the civilian population of Addis Ababa.

Ethiopia has honored the sacrifice of these February martyrs every year since 1941. On the anniversary date, a solemn ceremony is held where leaders lay wreaths at the memorial.

The remains of the martyrs also lay in the sanctuary of Holy Trinity Cathedral near the memorial site.

The towering obelisk itself was unveiled on November 2, 1944 during Emperor Haile Selassie I’s 14th coronation anniversary. In a tribute, he awarded medals to war veterans who fought against the Italian occupation.

An inscription in Ge’ez, Ethiopia’s ancient language, is also carved into the memorial to serve as a permanent reminder of the atrocities committed. 

As Addis Ababa and the nation paid their respects 87 years later on February 20, 2024, the memorial continuesto stand as an aching symbol of the heartlessness of fascism and courage of the Ethiopian people who gave their lives defending their homeland and freedom.

When Emperor Haile Selassie I triumphantly returned to Ethiopia in 1941 after years in exile, he raised the nation’s flag over Addis Ababa as a symbol of freedom reclaimed. One of his first acts was ordering officials to collect victims’ bodies strewn across the city – a chilling revelation of the brutality endured under fascist rule.

As noted by renowned historian BahruZewde, the tragedy was set in motion on February 19, 1937 when two young Ethiopians, AbrahaDebotch and MogesAsgedom, through a grenade at Graziani. According to Zewde, this act prompted Graziani to unleash retaliatory terror that turned the capital into what he called a “living hell.”

With backing from Benito Mussolini’s government in Rome, Graziani’s fascist “black-shirts” supporters were given free rein in the city as they carried out an indiscriminate slaughter of innocents, killing civilians and burning homes ruthlessly.

But those facing gravest risk appeared to be Ethiopia’s intellectual class, including surrendering members of the Black Lion group exposed in the city. Many intellectuals had surrendered to RasEmru at that time.

Their deaths decimated an entire generation of Ethiopian scholars, dealing a heavy blow to the country’s political and social progress.

Eyewitness accounts provide chilling firsthand testimony. In his memoir, TemesengGebre recounted nearly being killed himself on crowded streets before imprisonment.

“We found ourselves surrounded by eight machine guns,” he said. “In that specific area, a large number of Ethiopians were mercilessly slain, their lifeless bodies callously discarded throughout the streets. As our hands were tightly bound, preparing us for the imminent gunfire, a commanding officer emerged to halt the bloodshed.

He says the officers intention was to apprehend those responsible for the bomb attack during the palace ceremony, rather than perpetuate the ongoing carnage. “Consequently, he swiftly ordered our incarceration, saving us from certain death at the hands of the fascists and send us to jail.”

In his memoirs featured in PaulosGnogno’s book “The War Between Ethiopia and Italy,” Hungarian doctor Ladislas Sava also reveals a mass murder of students at Addis Ababa University,formerly known as GenteLeuel Palace, wiping out crucial repositories of Ethiopian knowledge.

The incident occurred during the preparations for the birthday celebration of the Prince of Naples, with the killing swiftly beginning within Addis Ababa University’s gates and its vicinity leaving no surviving Ethiopian in the palace courtyard. Sava’s vivid account provides valuable insight into the events he witnessed.

“Among the victims were the elderly, the blind,thedisabled, and impoverished mothers with their children who had gathered at the scene. The tragic events that unfolded at this location were both deeply shocking and disgraceful,” he wrote. 

Following Abraha and Moges’ brave but failed attempt on Graziani’s life, young local Simeon Adefers courageously transported them to rural Feche province. Tragically, Simeon soon fell victim to the fascists as well, rumored to have been orchestrated by BejerondLeteyebeluGebre under Haile Selassie’s orders -conveyed through his Minister of Foreign Affairs, BlatenGetaHruiWolde Selassie.

As Ian Campbell’s book details, others actively involved in the operation against Graziani included SebehatTirunehand BashaWeredHabtewold – all making significant contributions to the mission.

In honor of the massacre martyrs, Ethiopia observed their annual commemoration as a national holiday until the 1974 rise of the Derg regime, which abruptly ended it.

In more recent decades, cultural expert MenekreGeberu notes the observance has diminished with fewer formalities and public participation.

He advocated for adequate reparations from Italy similar to what Libya received, acknowledging the five-year occupation’s atrocities and devastation – backed by numerous records of Italian war crimes like chemical weapons use and bombing a Red Cross hospital.

However, Italy continues denying events such as the Addis Ababa massacre despite overwhelming historical evidence. Upholding the martyrs’ memory requires Italy to finally confront its dark past in Ethiopia.

Through these historical sources, the memory of the 1937 atrocity persists – as does appreciation for those who gave their lives defending Ethiopia’s freedom from fascist tyranny. Their sacrifice enabled Selassie’s triumphant return and reclamation of what is indelibly Africa’s oldest independent nation.

On August 23, 2015, Yacob Wolde-Maryam, the first Ethiopian Editor-in-Chief of The Ethiopian Herald, an English-language newspaper, was laid to rest. As a journalist for almost four decades, he was given a dignified burial at Holy Trinity Cathedral.

Yacob was a distinguished member of the Ethiopian press, serving under three different governments. He worked as an editor for numerous publications including The Reporter, Voice of Ethiopia, Menen, and Yekatit magazine.

Throughout his career, Yacob made significant contributions through his editorial decisions and wrote numerous articles advocating for the establishment of a modern civil service and workforce organization in Ethiopia.

He skillfully translated speeches by the last Emperor of Ethiopia, Haile Selassie I, into excellent English in order to effectively communicate the messages to foreign audiences.

Yacob authored a prominent editorial with the headline “Rotten at the Root” that sharply criticized king’s officials for their mistreatment of the Ethiopian people.

Yacob, renowned for his stance against colonialism and neocolonialism, received heavy criticism from embassies in Addis Ababa for his views, and was given warnings to cease writing about these topics.

However, he remained firm in his position, believing that if those criticizing him abandon their harmful actions and thoughts, he would do the same.

He has spent numerous years working in government and public newspapers, demonstrating his unwavering commitment to pluralism and ensuring accurate information reaches both the people and government.

After the December 1960 coup d’état attempt by brothers Mengestu and Gerermame Neway against Emperor Haileselassie I, members of the emperor’s inner circle attempted to blame one another. In response, Yacob forcefully argued in an editorial that a “lack of information is a fundamental issue” plaguing the country at that time.

He lauded the Russian revolutions of February and October, even authoring articles about them. These articles and his editorial stances may have contributed to his departure from the role of Editor-in-Chief.

There are claims journalist Yacob intentionally uses rough, difficult-to-understand English to prevent cadres from comprehending his work and disrupting his message. On one occasion, he admitted this style’s intent.

He admitted that by using a rough, difficult style in English, it helped prevent cadres from fully understanding his work and thus hindering any attempts to disrupt the message he aimed to convey, according to his remarks.

At journalist Yacob’s funeral, Million Terefe, a seasoned journalist, read from his biography.

Yacob had moved from the Ministry of Information to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, she reads.

He spent seven years in the Press and Information Service filling a skills gap identified by the ministry during the 1991 transitional government, Million continued.

Yacob, Editor and critic at The Reporter newspaper for over 15 years, is highly regarded for his critical pieces, particularly in his long-running column “The Spectator.”

During his previous career in journalism, he held the position of editor-in-chief at New Reporter magazine and gained recognition for his work on “The View from Finfine.”

After retiring from public service, he worked at various privately published English newspapers, including Addis Tribune and The Reporter, where he again served as editor-in-chief.

Yacob developed a passion for journalism during his higher education in England.

“He used to write for ‘New Times and Ethiopian News,’ a paper published by the late Sylvia Pankhurst,” his biography recounted. “It is believed he began developing a strong feeling for journalism at this time. He also followed the Mau Mau Rebellion movement while staying in Kenya and used to read dehumanizing pieces Westerners wrote about Africans. Thus, he worked to show the real pictures of Africans in his articles.”

Before becoming a journalist, Yacob had different careers, including teaching for two years, one year each at Nekemte Secondary School in Oromia and Amha Desta Secondary School in Addis Ababa. He also worked for one year at the former Ethiopian Electric Power and Water Department.

For his outstanding contribution to journalism, he received recognitions such as the Bego Sew Award in the media and journalism sector eight years ago. He also received an award from former Ethiopian Emperor Haile Selassie I after working for 10 years at Voice of Ethiopia.

In 2003, he published a book titled “Yacob Wolde-Mariam: Brief Autobiography and Selected Articles” where he wrote his biography and included some of his previously published articles.

Yacob had 10 children, eight grandchildren, and a great-grandchild.

The 94-year-old Yacob Woldemariam passed away on August 22, 2023.

The council, in a press conference held on Thursday, September 2, 2021 in the presence of spiritual leaders reiterated the destructive and tragic nature of war and called on government officials to discharge their responsibilities in prioritizing peace and ensuring justice.  

The Council stated it is praying to help officials achieve the ultimate goal of peace and stability. It stressed: “Through ultimate respect, forgiveness and genuine reconciliation, we are sincerely urging you to revamp Ethiopia.”

Furthermore, it called on regional administrators and officials in different hierarchies to engage in activities that protect the interests of the public and not only perpetuate their own interests.

The council, denouncing the attacks on the centuries old heritages and spiritual institutions such as Axum Zion church, Nejashi Mosque and Lalibella, called on all warring parties to give peace a chance and refrain from further destructive activities.

The council also decided to devote the coming 13th month of Ethiopia, Pagume, to silence and prayer and called on followers of every religion to pray and fast for five days starting from Monday September 6 to 10, 2021.

IRCE Secretary General, Fr. Tagay Tadele, made further calls to local radio and television stations to show solidarity with the national period of prayer by halting playing music in those days of prayer and fasting.

The Inter-Religious Council of Ethiopia was established in 2010 with the goal of joining hands and hearts around common interests at the national level. The aim of the council is to develop religious freedom and equality based on peace, love and tolerance.

Asfaw was born in the former Harerghe Province, Chercher District on April 20, 1929. After completing his studies at a teachers’ training institution in 1950, Asfaw began his life-long service as a high-school teacher. Having later pursued his studies in education administration in the UK from 1956 to 1958, he worked in the public administration and research departments of the University College of Addis Ababa. He later offered short-term courses to participants drawn from various government offices.

At a time when Italian and French were dominant, Asfaw was one of the few Ethiopians working hard to see Amharic become not only the official working language of the country, but a medium of instruction at schools as well.

Asfaw’s illustrious career, spanning decades, included service as a naval officer and a diplomat as well as a businessman.

Asfaw is known by many as the owner of the former Imperial Hotel. He built the hotel in the mid-1990s. The family had been running the hotel for over 15 years, before they sold it to Access Resorts.

In addition to the hospitality industry, Asfaw is also a well-known figure in the printing industry. He was the owner of Chamber Printing House.

The late Asfaw was laid to rest at Saint Amanuel Church in Addis Ababa.

Asfaw is survived by his wife Tiruwork Mengistu, three sons, two daughters and five grandchildren.