Testimony by Amanuel Tesfamikael, Uppsala, Sweden
In an interview with Aida Kidane in 2004
Introductory Note:
When the Isaias group (Selfi Nazenet/Alla group) split from the ELF in 1970, alongside two other factions, and later established the EPLF in 1972, presenting themselves as a democratic alternative to the ELF, they faced a significant internal challenge from a reform movement that called for democratic changes within the organization. According to its members, this movement sought to democratize the EPLF’s leadership structure. The EPLF leadership, however, labeled it as an "ultra-leftist" group and referred to it as "Menkae." The conflict between the EPLF leadership and the Menkae faction has since played a defining role in shaping the EPLF's security policies. The language was edited for fluency.
Mohamed Kheir Omer
--------------------
Highlights from the Interview:
"I was the first "Menkae" to be imprisoned. My commander, Brirai, sent a young peasant (manjus) who unexpectedly hit me with a stick while I was heading to the toilet. In anger, I retaliated with a stone, and we got into a struggle. We were both taken in and ordered to do punishments, like running laps and moving on our elbows. I refused, as I felt I wasn’t at fault. The youth was let go, but Brirai tied my wrists so tightly that the marks remain to this day. He made me sit outside, below the hill where the others slept, for the entire night. I did not hear the radio that night as the death of my father was announced."
"The next morning, I was summoned by the leaders—Isayas, Tewelde Eyob, Mesfin Hagos, Asmerom, and Saleh TeTew. They ordered me to undergo punishment, but I refused, insisting I was the victim in the situation. Suddenly, Isayas, Tewelde, and Mesfin began beating me brutally. I remember Saleh saying, “Don’t do this, this is why we left the ELF,” but they ignored him. Mesfin pressed his heavy Congo shoe onto my cheek, grinding my face into the rocky ground. My body was bruised, my lip was cut, and my cheeks were bleeding.
After the beating, I was taken to a fireplace
where a French journalist, Christian Sabatier, was sitting by the fire, talking
with Naizgi Kiflu. I’ll never forget the look of shock on his face. He didn’t
say anything to me—spies or enemies could be anywhere, so he kept quiet. He had
once held the front in high regard, but now he was seeing the harsh reality.
From there, I was taken to my prison cell, a stone-walled room with a grass
roof. Not long after, another prisoner, Habteselassie, joined me. I was glad
for his company, and we had many long conversations."
Testimony by
Amanuel Tesfamikael, Uppsala, Sweden
In an interview with Aida Kidane in 2004
“Because the ELF was attacking the Obel, I strongly opposed the use of arms between fellow Eritreans and decided to join Selfi Nasnet. I travelled from Khartoum to Port Sudan, and a fighter on an errand guided me on foot from Garora to meda (field), where I joined in Gereger, Sudan, in May 1972.
Upon arriving at the Selfi camp in Gereger
around 4-5 pm, I saw fighters gathered by the riverbank, including Meles Gebre
Mariam, whom I knew. After a warm greeting, the Ganta leader asked for my name
and where I came from, all done verbally since written registration started
later during the Menkae period. Because I knew Meles from Addis, we often
talked, and I found him to be a gentle person.
At that time, there wasn't a formal training
camp. New recruits received occasional training when possible and learned on
the job. Joining the front made me feel a deep sense of camaraderie. Fighters
bonded like brothers, playing football, joking, and even wrestling. I felt as
if I were in a Che Guevara film. There was no hierarchy when we ate; everyone,
from leaders to soldiers, sat together.
By 1972, we were only about 60 fighters, with
another 60 stationed in towns, split into 4 Gantas (squad), each consisting of
15-18 fighters. After uniting with PLF1, we became 4 Hailis (platoon), each
consisting of 80 to 100 fighters. My Ganta leader in 1972 was Girmai Mehari,
and after the unification in 1973, my Haili leader was Brirai, with Taha
leading my Ganta.
There were some Muslim fighters with us before
PLF1 joined, including Taha and Alamin, a highlander who played football for
the Mar Rosso team. We also had 4-5 Mensa Muslims who didn't want to stay with
the Obel.
In May 1972, Isayas held a major meeting with
the 60 fighters, presenting his “miKla’e mega-reja” (Opening the curtain) or Nehnan Elamanan in Tigrinya, which made us
feel proud and progressive. However, leadership meetings rarely shared their
strategies or political goals with us. Our only contact with politics came from
the political commissioners who taught us.
During one night in 1972, while we were
stationed in Gereger, ELF spies pretending to be peasants approached our
position. Our guard heard sounds and, when receiving no response, fired a
warning shot, waking us up. At sunrise, we discovered 5-600 ELF fighters
approaching us. We engaged in a battle, killing about 100 of them while losing
5-6 of our own. The Sudanese authorities later advised us to return to Eritrea
due to agreements between Numeri and Haile Selassie.
We moved to Sahel and set up camp in Gergeret,
where we mainly studied while the Ethiopians ignored us. We maintained
self-sufficiency by buying goats from peasants. We held strategic positions,
such as Algena Mountain, where we monitored Sudan, the sea, and southern areas,
communicating by radio.
Life was simple, with shared responsibilities
like cooking, running errands, playing football, and discussing the situation.
At night, we kept guard and stayed with our Gantas, contrary to accusations
that we were secretly meeting and plotting. Leaders like Petros Solomon and
Sebhat would occasionally lead discussions, but they later distanced themselves
from us when the leadership grew fearful, and some were disarmed and
imprisoned.
Hilal, a well-liked fighter from Dankalia who
led the medic group, was killed in either Algena or Gl’e Mountain in late 1972
or early 1973. He was admired for his righteousness, and we often wondered what
he would have said during the Menkae movement.
The so-called Menkae Conflict
When the initial conflict began, the leadership
wanted to eliminate Solomon W. Mariam. They held a secret meeting with around
11 members, including two newer, progressive fighters, Haile Menkorios and
Mehari Girmai. At that time, we were only Selfi Nesanet, about 120 of us,
without the PLF.
During the meeting, Musie Tesfa Mikel happened
to be passing by, and Isayas and the others called him to join since Musie and Solomon
had a history of disliking each other. Solomon was accused of regionalism, and
Musie acknowledged, "There is regionalism, it's true," which angered
the others. Tsegai W. Mikel, a member of Mesri Haili, struck Musie with the
butt of his rifle, marking a turning point in the situation. The secret was
out, and soon everyone was discussing past abuses. The leadership, feeling threatened,
responded by imprisoning many of us. Those like Petros Solomon and Sibhat Efrem
made self-criticisms and were released, but we stood firm in our position.
Even Isayas spoke to me by the river one day,
saying he agreed with our demands, but not in this manner. Dehab and Aberash,
experienced fighters, also stood their ground. Werku, I later heard, was
released for health reasons and now serves as an official in Eritrea. Some
fighters mocked the women, claiming they came to meda because they couldn't
find a man, as many of the prominent Asmarinos were there. However, the women
knew many of the men's secrets, which made them acutely aware of the abuses.
Abeba, a newcomer and former hostess, later married Bruno but was not charged.
Her boyfriend, Kifle Mariam, was part of the secret group in Addis. He
eventually left for Denmark and remains there.
Initially, it was Yohannes who wanted the
leadership to step down, but Musie, Afworki, and Dehab convinced him to hold
off until a congress could be convened. As grievances were being collected,
tensions escalated. Meles and Musie, serving as Ganta commissioners—a role seen
as a demotion since they were expected to follow the leadership's decisions
without participating in battle planning—were sidelined. Ermias Debesai was the
only one who pointed out that both sides were at fault, while the rest took sides.
Haile supported the leadership, accusing the "Menkae" group of acting
like falools (undisciplined). Mehari G. Tsion openly aligned with Solomon and took a
right-wing stance.
The first meeting focused on gathering
grievances, while the second was for the study committee, with Isayas holding
the most power. We demanded democratic governance. Since most fighters were
unaware of the first two meetings, tensions flared after Musie was hit, leading
the leadership to call for a broader meeting. I was chosen to represent my
Ganta, though Haile and Mehari, also from my Ganta, were absent.
The meetings revolved around forming a teko-tsatsa-rit
(Supervision Committee) to discuss the issues to oversee the leadership until the next
congress. These meetings were essential as grievances grew, signalling a revolt
among the rank-and-file soldiers, particularly as Solomon was going too far.
The leadership responded with anger, often shoving us around or beating us, as
happened to me.
While the leadership held their two initial
meetings, we "Menkae" had three meetings with them to address our
concerns. In meda, there was no bureaucratic process for calling
meetings; the leadership made decisions independently, despite sharing daily
life with the rest of us. Soldiers and leadership would often mingle, play
football, sit together, and chat, fostering an appearance of camaraderie.
The name "Menkae" was spontaneously
coined by Naizgi—someone said it, and it stuck. Contrary to the meaning
associated with bats, which move at night, we actually talked more during the
day than at night. At night, each Ganta would sleep together in one place, and it
was common to talk for about half an hour before sleeping. We prepared food and
divided it within our Gantas. During the day, we would meet with members of
other Gantas or familiar faces, like when I used to visit Meles’ Ganta to chat
with him. Even the leaders ate with us during the day, as there were no clear
ranks then, and we would play football together.
Our movement had momentum, and we could have
succeeded, but we lacked leadership experience and the cunning necessary to
navigate the situation. We sought solutions collaboratively with all the
fighters, but the leadership manipulated things, especially when some fighters
started shouting slogans like “2 bi bado Hama si’ira,” (Hamasein won as the
reference to the football clubs organized by provinces, as the majority of the
Menkae members were perceived to be from Akele Guzai, it meant those from
Hamasein (Isaias and others from the province, who were a majority) won over
Akele Guzai (the dissidents) which I found immature, though I defended it until
the end. Despite the internal turmoil, we still respected the front, and when
the enemy approached, we all joined the battle.
I was the first "Menkae" to be
imprisoned. My commander, Brirai, sent a young peasant (manjus) who
unexpectedly hit me with a stick while I was heading to the toilet. In anger, I
retaliated with a stone, and we got into a struggle. We were both taken in and
ordered to do punishments, like running laps and moving on our elbows. I
refused, as I felt I wasn’t at fault. The youth was let go, but Brirai tied my
wrists so tightly that the marks remain to this day. He made me sit outside,
below the hill where the others slept, for the entire night. I did not hear the
radio that night as the death of my father was announced.
When I was placed in the clinic of the training centre, before leaving for Sudan, I was chatting with
Abeba and Tewelde (who now lives in Canada). Abeba, knowing my family well,
asked if I had any news about my father. Tewelde, not knowing the weight of her
words, innocently told me that he had passed away. I was shocked but tried to
hide my reaction, pretending I already knew—after all, fighters were expected
to be tough. Later, I took her aside and asked for more details. She told me
that my father had high expectations for me and was deeply disappointed, passing
away with a heavy heart. He had been a devoted Ethiopian loyalist.
The next morning, I was summoned by the
leaders—Isayas, Tewelde Eyob, Mesfin Hagos, Asmerom, and Saleh TeTew. They
ordered me to undergo punishment, but I refused, insisting I was the victim in
the situation. Suddenly, Isayas, Tewelde, and Mesfin began beating me brutally.
I remember Saleh saying, “Don’t do this, this is why we left the ELF,” but they
ignored him. Mesfin pressed his heavy Congo shoe onto my cheek, grinding my
face into the rocky ground. My body was bruised, my lip was cut, and my cheeks
were bleeding.
After the beating, I was taken to a fireplace
where a French journalist, Christian Sabatier, was sitting by the fire, talking
with Naizgi Kiflu. I’ll never forget the look of shock on his face. He didn’t
say anything to me—spies or enemies could be anywhere, so he kept quiet. He had
once held the front in high regard, but now he was seeing the harsh reality.
From there, I was taken to my prison cell, a stone-walled room with a grass
roof. Not long after, another prisoner, Habteselassie, joined me. I was glad
for his company, and we had many long conversations.
As I mentioned earlier, the main issue arose
when Solomon was supposed to be killed. Musie opposed this decision and was
struck with a rifle. This sparked a wave of questions within the leadership. We
had proposed 12 points, which were initially agreed upon by the leadership.
However, of the 9 people selected to oversee the leadership, only two were from Menkae, and they were later replaced,
leaving no Menkae members involved.
Sixty fighters, including Petros Solomon and Sebhat Efrem, were labelled as Menkae and
ordered to put down their arms. Many were either persuaded or intimidated into
changing their stance. Musie, a short, thin man with a light complexion, and
Yohannes, who was strongly built and even larger than Mesfin Hagos, stood out
among us. Yohannes explained that the name "Menkae" meant
"leftist" in proper Tigrinya.
The imprisonment began gradually. One day, while
I was out in Toilet, a group of men followed me, provoked a fight, and I was
beaten and imprisoned. Soon, the others were also rounded up and taken to
prison. The cells were stone-walled. The three female prisoners managed to
gather some information from the guards and shared it with me. I was allowed to
deliver food to the other Menkae prisoners, and the women passed along their
updates. I communicated these through songs in English, which the others
understood as coded messages. However, one day, a guard who understood English
overheard me, and nine of us, including Musie, were tied up and brought out.
Naizgi, known for his cruelty, whipped us one by one, though we all denied
knowing anything.
We had pushed for 12-point reforms, and though
the leadership initially agreed, they manipulated the process when it came time
to nominate representatives. Names were suggested, but pro-leadership figures
ended up being chosen, and the situation worsened. Mesfin Hagos and Tewelde
Eyob were among those responsible for brutal actions. The fighters from the Red
Sea had initially supported us, but they were later excluded from the
narrative, making it appear as though the Menkae movement was solely a highlander
(Kebessa) affair.
Mesfin Hagos and Tewelde Eyob referred to us as
“bi gedli ash-k’elal,” meaning ‘last-minute revolutionaries’,
particularly targeting those of us from Kebessa. They believed liberation was
near and saw us as merely there to serve their cause. The leadership had
categorized us into two groups: the "lesser evils" and the
"dangerous ones," who posed a challenge due to their leadership
potential.
The individuals considered dangerous
agitators included:
- Musie Tesfamikael
- Yohannes
- Afworki Teklu (Amiche)
- Habtesion Kidane
- Tarakegn
- Mebrahtu Weldu (Haili leader)
- Mikel Russom (from Mikel Pharmacy)
I recall these names vividly. They were
confined in small huts that resembled dog kennels, so cramped that when
sitting, their heads touched the roof. Each person was isolated, forbidden from
communicating with others. Those of us deemed "less dangerous" were
placed together in a larger tent. The women—Dehab, Werku, and Aberash—were kept
in a room covered by a sheet of garment.
The chief torturer was Solomon W. Mariam, with
Mehari Ekubazgi, a veteran fighter, Naizgi, Mehari Merhatsion, an intellectual
trained in Russia, and Haile Jebha, a short, thin man from the Abba Shawel
area, assisting him.
It was said that the women, particularly Dehab
and Werku, had a significant influence on Mebrahtu Weldu, who was admired for
his bravery and humanitarianism. Relationships were not forbidden, and Afwerki
and Werku were even seen holding hands openly. Solomon W. Mariam, however, was one of the
most ruthless individuals, responsible for many deaths. After our group, the tsegamyan
(leftists), were eliminated, the yemaneen (rightists) faced their turn. Solomon
himself was eventually imprisoned, and Petros Solomon was appointed head of
security. Solomon W. Mariam was a staunch regionalist from Hamasien.
The Red Sea group had initially pretended to
support us, encouraging our efforts. But when the situation shifted, they acted
as if they had never been involved. Their strategy was to let us and Isaias
fight each other, allowing them to step in and seize power.
Isayas Wedi Flansa, along with Tewelde Eyob and
Wedi Fenkel, were firmly against the e movement. These men were part of the
first group from Ala, which we referred to as the "Sierra Maestra"
group. The name may have been used in meda, but we popularized it in our
Menkaay article. The term "Sierra Maestra" comes from South
America, where Che Guevara and Castro began their struggle, symbolizing a high
mountain with a plateau at the top. These men advocated for our execution.
Later, when fighters from Akele Guzai were
being demoted, members of the Sierra Maestra group were ordered to surrender
their weapons. I remember seeing Tewelde Eyob unarmed the last time I left for
Sudan. While I was in prison, I heard how events unfolded against these men.
Isayas Afwerki remained in the background during confrontations, avoiding
direct involvement when tensions were high. The Hamasien faction was
consolidating power and feared the influence of the Akele Guzai group. I never
found out exactly how they died, as it likely occurred after I left meda.
Among the Menkae group, there were rumours that Isayas had poisoned Abraham
Tewelde.
Habteselassie was a student, but rumours began
circulating that he was an Ethiopian spy. He and I were the first prisoners,
and we often talked. He revealed to me that his group, along with Isayas,
provided the Ethiopians with little accurate information and mostly
misinformation, their main goal being to retaliate against the ELF, who had
been pursuing them.
After our imprisonment, 30 more fighters were
ordered to lay down their weapons and were confined for a day. Among them were
Petros Solomon and Sebhat Efrem. They made self-criticisms and were released.
However, Mesfin, Petros, and Sebhat began recruiting new fighters, spreading
the idea that we were opportunists who deserved to be executed. When I was
being sent to Sudan for medical treatment on my first trip, they placed me
among these new recruits to intimidate them and make an example of me.
Before the others were imprisoned, the
Ethiopians launched an attack on us in Sahel in January 1974. We were in a
better strategic position, holding higher ground in the mountains while the
enemy was below. Instead of using guerrilla tactics, we defended our positions.
Despite our internal conflicts, everyone participated in the battle. We lost
10-12 fighters, but the Ethiopians suffered much heavier casualties.
One day, while we prisoners were eating
together, Yohannes told a joke, and I laughed loudly. This angered Mehari
Ekubazgi, who kicked me in the back. Furious, I fought back, despite him being
armed. Other soldiers quickly restrained me, holding both my arms, while Mehari
punched me in the face and struck both sides of my neck until I collapsed. He
then hit my thigh with a stick, just above my ankle, causing it to swell. Since
I wasn’t considered one of the main agitators, they used my leg injury as a reason
to send me to Sudan for treatment.
When I arrived in Port Sudan, I met our
representative, Wedi Arbate. He informed me that a letter had been sent,
stating I was discharged from the front and that I was no longer considered
Eritrean. I couldn’t accept this, and with Wedi Arbate’s permission, I returned
to meda.
Upon my return, Solomon Welde Mariam was
shocked to see me. Mogos Fasil, whom I knew from school, was there as well.
After being placed in the medical ward, I was sent back to prison that same
night and remained there for seven months. Later, three of us were sent to
Sudan, escorted by a Ganta of about 12 fighters, led by Girmai Mehari, a brave
and liberal man. When some soldiers tried to harass us, Girmai stopped them. We
were taken out under the cover of night to avoid being seen by other fighters
and arrived in Garora by morning. As we were leaving, Solomon warned me,
showing his pistol, saying if I ever returned, I would face it.
From Garora, we took a bus to Port Sudan and
went to our representative’s office. We were given some money and sent on our
way to Khartoum.
Eventually, I was imprisoned twice—once for 2
months and later for 7 months. During my first imprisonment, I learned that my
father had passed away, which deeply affected me. Despite the harsh treatment,
I continued to stand by my beliefs. After being sent to Sudan for medical
treatment, I eventually returned to meda but was imprisoned again. The
leadership's fears and distrust led to the breakdown of the unity we once had.
The Menkae movement, though a strong force for change, was ultimately suppressed by the
leadership, with many of us imprisoned, beaten, or expelled. Despite our
struggles, we maintained our principles, even as internal conflicts gave the
leadership an excuse to undermine us.”
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