It was while ago, as a fourth grade student that I got the chance to see the largest river of our fair nation, the Blue Nile, locally known as Abay. I still remember the sentiment I felt when I was told that we had reached Abay. We needed to cross the river to reach our final destination – a town called Debremarkose.
As we got closer to Abay, the bus instantly got overwhelmed by fairytales of the power of the River and what one needed to do to cross it. From praying to inattention, all sorts of methods were suggested by travellers, especially the elderly, who seemed to have a commanding experience, having crossed the river many times.
I was told to close my eyes and think about other things. Yet, my desire to catch a glimpse of the river, often claimed to have deceived our nation, was so high that I could only keep half of my eyes covered with my hand. With the other half, however, I struggled to have the best view.
Since it was early September, Abay had not fully lost the power it had gained from the summer rainfall. But it was as calm as if dead. What I could see was the opacity of the water, which was visibly carrying huge loads of soil along with it.
My childhood mentality could only recall a few of the songs crooned about the very river that I was having the chance to witness first-hand. It seems that the songs all had a similar theme. All deal with the disappointment of Ethiopians over their inability to make use of the largest river of their motherland.
Things seem to have changed after 21 years. The songs about the powerful river are no longer about disappointment, but about the eventual surrender of the river to the determination of Ethiopians and their government. Indeed, Ethiopians have built their capacity to eventually dam Abay and use it for their betterment.
I could not imagine a better developmental success than this. I no longer feel sad, unable, defeated and deceived whenever I think about Abay. No tell or rumour mongering seems to stop the commitment of Ethiopians in making use of the potent waters of Abay for their development.
Amazingly, this change has swept not only Ethiopians, but also Egyptians and the Sudanese. Two decades of diplomacy, especially by the late Meles Zenawi, brought a far-reaching change in the attitudes of the downstream nations about Ethiopia’s use of the water. It seems that Meles was indeed smart enough to connect the dots and see the right prerequisites for using the waters of Abay to push Ethiopia’s economy forward.
Many Ethiopians have wept with the inauguration of the Great Ethiopian Renaissance Dam (GERD). Regardless of political ideology, I cannot think of any better showcase of the developmental mindset of the ruling elite than this.
It is now time for Egypt and Sudan to show the world that their change is comparable by investing in the dam. They ought to stop their latest reluctance.
As much as Ethiopians have been serene enough in centuries past, at giving up the waters, there is no reason they would act otherwise during this time of mutual benefit. It is all rightly depicted in the songs I listened to even 21 years back.
Immediately after we crossed the bridge over Abay (it is now replaced by a new one, built with Japanese assistance), my uncle told me a story about a young boy. The young boy in the story loves Abay so much that he couldn’t spend even one day without washing his feet in its waters.
The shepherd boy had a girl he loved so much. He would often sing about her sitting on the brink of Abay. He also tells the River his dream of living together with the girl.
However, a mature friend of the boy knew a fact unknown to the boy, which entails social stratification. The social class of the girl was high up in the pyramid of the rather conservative Ethiopian society of the time; so much so that the boy’s hope of marrying her was very low. When the boy heard from his friend about the issue, he preferred to dive into Abay and die with his secret love.
My uncle told me the story as if it was true and even as though he knew the characters personally. Despite not being able to prove the story, time has shown me that Ethiopians of every social strata love Abay so much. I wonder how the girl might have replied to the boy had he told her of his love on the River’s banks.
Considering this deep affection of Ethiopians to the River and the latest commitment to using it for a better future, I believe mutual benefit is the way forward. It, therefore, is better for the Egyptians and the Sudanese to bet on love. Laying down the future together is the best path to regional development.
I think the era of Ethiopians dying with disappointment over Abay has come to an end. My childhood memory is also fading away, being replaced by pride and fortitude. Let gratitude be to the visionaries.
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