Revolutionary Comrades, Ponzi Schemes, and 119 Million Missing Cars: An Ethiopian Tragicomedy

Ethiopia’s Theatre of Governance: A Satirical Chronicle

By Sewasew Teklemariam Ethiopian Tribune columnist

Ethiopia’s Ministry of Transport has unveiled plans for a vehicle registration system capable of accommodating 121 million licence plates, a figure that would be admirably forward-thinking if the country possessed more than its current 1.6 million vehicles. It’s the administrative equivalent of ordering a wedding cake for 10,000 guests when your venue seats forty-two. Officials have defended the initiative as essential for “modernising operations,” though cynics might suggest it’s more about the appearance of progress than actual forward motion.

“One could call it visionary,” observed an opposition MP with the weariness of someone who has sat through too many budget presentations. “Or one could call it a masterclass in solving problems that don’t yet exist while ignoring the ones stampeding through the front door.”

The financial burden, naturally, falls upon vehicle owners, citizens already performing the economic equivalent of plate-spinning while riding a unicycle on a tightrope greased with inflation and fuel shortages. Social media has responded with characteristic wit: “Finally, my donkey can get the official recognition he deserves. He’s been pulling this economy along for years anyway.”

Meanwhile, the Ministry of Revenues has been positively giddy about its tax collection triumph: over $9 billion gathered in the 2024/25 fiscal year, representing an 80 percent increase. The Prime Minister himself presided over the 7th Annual Loyal Taxpayers Recognition event, where 700 citizens and businesses received Platinum, Gold, and Silver accolades for their “civic duty.” One imagines the ceremony featured inspirational music and perhaps a motivational video montage of receipts being filed.

Yet behind the self-congratulatory pageantry lurks an inconvenient truth: Ethiopia’s tax-to-GDP ratio has slumped to 7.5 percent, placing it among Sub-Saharan Africa’s underachievers. Inflation has soared past 200 percent since 2020, and the federal budget faces a chasm of 830 billion birr. The IMF, employing the diplomatic language of someone trying not to say “I told you so,” has noted “structural weaknesses” in the tax system. Translation: the revenue surge is less sustainable miracle and more last gasp before economic reality reasserts itself.

The Prime Minister’s speech celebrated “self-reliance” and “digital transformation” to an audience that applauded politely while mentally calculating whether their own tax payments would cover next month’s groceries. “We’re loyal taxpayers,” admitted one honoree, “but loyalty doesn’t negotiate with landlords.”

Sharp-eyed observers have also noted that many of these “loyal taxpayers” are state-owned enterprises, telecommunications giants, national banks, logistics firms whose tax compliance is as voluntary as gravity. “It’s rather like congratulating your liver for processing alcohol,” remarked a former finance official. “It’s doing what it’s biologically obligated to do.”

As domestic pressures intensify, Ethiopia has pivoted to international drama. Foreign Minister Gedion Timothewos dispatched a letter to the United Nations accusing Eritrea and a hardline TPLF faction of forming a military alliance called “Tsimdo” to destabilize the nation. Eritrea responded with the diplomatic subtlety of a sledgehammer, dismissing Ethiopia’s obsession with the “Two Waters”, the Blue Nile and Red Sea, as “crass,” “pathetic,” and “mind-boggling.”

Government supporters insist the accusations are grounded in credible intelligence. Critics, however, detect the faint aroma of distraction, the time-honored political maneuver of pointing dramatically at external threats when internal matters grow uncomfortable. “It’s Statecraft 101,” noted one commentator. “When the kitchen’s on fire, blame the neighbors for playing music too loud.”

The public remains admirably skeptical. “We’re rationing bread,” said a Bahir Dar shopkeeper, “but apparently we’re strategising about maritime access. Priorities, I suppose.”

In a more optimistic development, the Ministry of Trade and Regional Integration has announced Ethiopia’s inaugural export operation under the African Continental Free Trade Area (AfCFTA). Starting October 9th, duty-free shipments of meat, vegetables, pulses, and coffee will journey to Kenya, Somalia, and South Africa. The launch ceremony promises speeches, panel discussions, and possibly a ceremonial ribbon-cutting of a shipping container.

State Minister Yasmin Wohabrebbi has framed the AfCFTA as compensation for lost AGOA privileges and a mechanism to elevate intra-African trade beyond its current sub-17 percent limbo. The strategy document, co-authored by UNECA and the Policy Studies Institute, envisions employment growth, foreign investment, and regional integration. Skeptics, however, wonder whether Ethiopia’s exports will travel further in PowerPoint presentations than in actual freight.

“Red kidney beans and aspirations,” mused one trade analyst. “Let’s wager on which clears customs first.”

And now, judicial theatre with a subplot worthy of Greek tragedy. The Ministry of Justice finds itself rather uncomfortably adjacent to a class-action lawsuit involving 236 homebuyers suing Key Housing Finance Solutions and Bunna Insurance for alleged breach of contract and financial misconduct. The scheme was launched by Girum, proprietor of Abbay Media and once a close compatriot of Education Minister Birehanu Nega during their shared Ginbot 7 days, when they were comrades-in-arms plotting revolution rather than one facing potential prosecution whilst the other oversees curriculum reform. The promised 100,000 homes within a decade through collective savings have been accused of resembling less a housing scheme and rather more a Ponzi scheme. Instead of keys and deeds, investors received disappointment and vacant plots, the residential equivalent of promising a manor house and delivering a photograph of foundations.

One wonders: will old revolutionary ties translate into a convenient “get out of jail free” card? Or will justice prove itself refreshingly impartial? The Ministry’s conspicuous silence on the matter has done precious little to settle the speculation.

Legal experts suggest the case illuminates Ethiopia’s housing regulation gaps and the conspicuous absence of consumer protection frameworks. “Housing represents dignity, not speculation,” said one lawyer. “Currently, that dignity is being argued over in courtrooms.”

The Ministry of Justice has maintained a silence so conspicuous it practically echoes, prompting demands for regulatory reform and judicial accountability. “This transcends one company,” argued a civil society advocate. “It exposes a system where dreams can be monetized without safeguards.”

And so Ethiopia’s government continues its elaborate performance, digitising registration systems for phantom vehicles, celebrating taxpayers who had little choice, accusing neighbors of conspiracies, exporting optimism in containers yet to be loaded, and now defending itself in litigation. Reform remains the script, ceremony the staging, and the public, ever watchful, ever skeptical, sits in an audience that never quite reaches intermission.

“We applaud,” observed one citizen, “but only because leaving before the final act would seem impolite. Though we’re not entirely certain there is a final act.”

The views and opinions expressed in this column are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the Ethiopian Tribune.