Ex-prisoner tries to free Ethiopians

By Joe Fiorito for Toronto Star

January 31, 2006

Dr. Taye Woldesemayat sat in the coffee shop of a downtown hotel one morning not long ago. He is an Ethiopian teacher, and a former political prisoner. He ordered cappuccino.

I have never understood how the men from the coffee countries can stomach the stuff we brew here; perhaps that’s why he asked for a cappuccino, which is not properly coffee, nor does it pretend to be.

Dr. Taye — that’s what everyone calls him — has about him an air of alert stillness, not unlike other men who have spent a long time in jail. But he is no criminal.

The previous evening, he had addressed a crowd of some 300 people on the subject of democratic development in Ethiopia, and he was greeted with the kind of warmth we usually reserve for hockey stars.

He spent six years in prison because, as head of the Ethiopian Teachers’ Association, he spoke out in favour of democracy; this, apparently, is some sort of crime in Ethiopia.

Puts our election in perspective, does it not?

Dr. Taye has been on a non-stop international speaking tour, addressing the Ethiopian diaspora, ever since he got out of jail a couple of years ago.

At the end of his Toronto speech, the crowd — overwhelmingly Ethiopian — passed a motion supporting democratic development, urging unconditional freedom for political prisoners, and calling for a referendum on the results of last summer’s elections in Ethiopia.

The waiter brought his cappuccino. I had an espresso. I was curious to know the extent of Dr. Taye’s Canadian speaking tour. He said, “After Toronto I will go to Ottawa, Montreal, Winnipeg, Edmonton, Vancouver and Windsor.” And then?

“I’m going to Europe. I have a report for the International Labour Organization in Geneva. I will make the case for my colleagues who are still in jail. I am hoping the ILO will take up their cause.”

There are still plenty of political prisoners in Ethiopian jails, many of them are teachers, and many of them were rounded up as recently as last November.

I asked Dr. Taye if he would consider a return to his country. He said, “I’m looking forward to going home sometime, but if I do I may be arrested. My name is on a list.” I raised an eyebrow.

He said, “Last weekend they ransacked my house and my office. They searched my kitchen. They took my personal computer. My wife asked them if they had a court warrant. They told her they didn’t need one.”

By “they,” he meant his political opponents. He learned of their intrusion during a phone call to his wife. It must not be easy for a man in exile to hear that his wife has been terrorized and his house ransacked.

He shrugged it off. How does a man in exile keep in touch with his wife, when any such communication could be dangerous? “I call home using various methods. I have to tell her to come to a certain pay phone at a certain time.”

I asked him about his time in prison.

“There were 180 of us in a room this size.” His gaze took in the modestly sized coffee shop. I said it sounded like standing room only. He said, “And when you go to sleep …” He searched for an expression in English, and could not find it. “We call it asara derdwer. It means sleeping in a row.” I said, “Like spoons?” He nodded. Sounds like a tight squeeze. He said, “There was a boy of 12 who was arrested and put in with us. One night when he was sleeping, he moved around and he just popped right up out of the row.”

A boy of 12? “They put him with the political prisoners because his crime was to give water to a member of the opposition on a hot day. I used to talk with him.”

A day does not go by that he does not think of this boy. “They are holding him without trial. He will be in prison for five years. When he is 17, the legal age, then they will try him in court.” Sort of puts our notion of mandatory minimums in perspective, does it not?

Dr. Taye said, with an air of polished irony, “In prison I was joined by a former prime minister and a former minister of defence, and also by the vice prime minister and the Southern State regional president; the very ones who sent me to jail, they were also arrested.”

I wondered whether that created a certain tension. He said, “I welcomed them. I said I thought there is something wrong with a government that does not know how to distinguish friends from enemies. They said they never thought they’d be arrested. I said this was why they had to abolish political prisons.”

What else has he been up to since his release?

“I am writing my prison diary. It should be ready in another six months.”

And what became of the motion that was passed at the Toronto meeting? “A copy of the resolution was sent to the Canadian government, along with all the other motions from other cities. And also copies to the Ethiopian embassy, to Amnesty International and other human rights organizations.”

I took my leave and wished him a safe journey. If Dr. Taye ever does return home, and if he can be persuaded to run for office, then I think you have just met a future president of Ethiopia.

(Source: The Toronto Star; January 30, 2006)