South Africa – Ethiopian Tribune

The Deadline and the Debt

Ethiopian Tribune editor — Mon, 29 Jun 2026 21:36:40 +0000

Read Time:7 Minute, 56 Second

The Ethiopian Tribune · Comment

The Deadline and the Debt

As a vigilante ultimatum falls on 30 June, the country whose liberation drew on Adwa turns on the Africans it shelters — while the world is told the wrong people are dying

By E. Frashie

Tomorrow a deadline expires that no law recognises. The movement that set it — March and March, a vigilante coalition that surfaced in 2025 — has spent months marching through Johannesburg, Pretoria, Durban and Cape Town demanding that every undocumented foreigner quit South Africa by the thirtieth of June. Pretoria has said plainly that the ultimatum carries no standing in law. Yet the standing it lacks in statute it has seized in the street: foreign-owned shops looted across several provinces, families driven from their homes, and a procession of African governments — Malawi, Nigeria, Ghana, Zimbabwe, Mozambique — mounting emergency airlifts of their own citizens. The Malawians repatriated on 18 June stepped off into a stadium pressed into service as a reception hall.

A date with no standing in law has acquired all the standing it needs in the street.

For Ethiopians the fear is already intimate, though honesty demands precision about its shape. In April, five Ethiopian men were shot dead in central Johannesburg — three of them inside a McDonald’s, four within forty-eight hours. The temptation is to fold those killings straight into the xenophobia ledger, and some have: the World Health Organization’s director-general, Tedros Adhanom Ghebreyesus, himself an Ethiopian, counted them in a public appeal on 14 June. But South Africa’s foreign ministry disputes the framing, attributing the deaths to organised crime — extortion and trafficking networks — and the Daily Maverick, on investigation, could find no credible thread tying those particular murders to the marches. The distinction is not pedantry. A movement that thrives on conflation cannot be answered with conflation; the Tribune will not avenge five men by misnaming how they died. What is beyond dispute is the climate around the living: in Gauteng, a run of attacks on Ethiopian-owned businesses; in Pretoria, Ethiopians describing days spent indoors, threatening messages, machetes carried in the open, and an embassy slow to answer.

Beneath the spectacle of the mob lies a quieter and more durable cruelty, and it is the one the diaspora’s advocates too rarely name. A child born in South Africa to undocumented parents frequently cannot obtain a birth certificate; without it, the country becomes a trap that springs shut at eighteen. The Scalabrini Centre of Cape Town sets out the mechanism with clinical calm: on reaching majority, such a young person cannot be lawfully employed, cannot open a bank account, cannot marry, cannot enrol at a university, and may be detained or deported to a country never seen. It is no predicament peculiar to Ethiopians — Nigerians, Ghanaians, Zimbabweans and the children of every neighbouring state are caught in the same vice — and it does not spare the long-settled: there are men and women who have lived in South Africa for twenty-five and thirty years, schooled and graduated there, and still cannot lawfully take a job for want of a page. There are, by credible estimate, more than a million undocumented children in the country. The Basic Education Laws Amendment Act of 2024 now forbids schools from turning a child away for want of papers — a genuine advance — but it mends the gate at the schoolhouse, not the wall at adulthood. The wall at adulthood still stands.

It mends the gate at the schoolhouse, not the wall at adulthood.

That the wall can be lowered is not a fantasy; South Africa has reached for the ladder before. The Zimbabwean Exemption Permit, born of a 2009 dispensation, has for over a decade let some 178,000 Zimbabweans live and work lawfully where they held no passports to show. But the permit’s present is a parable in itself. In 2021 the government moved to scrap it; the courts found the termination procedurally unlawful and ordered consultation; it survives now only on an extension to May 2027 — and Operation Dudula, one of the movements behind this week’s marches, is in court trying to end it. The precedent exists, and it is under siege from the very forces that have fixed tomorrow’s date. That is the true measure of the continent’s free-movement ambitions: a single African passport and a protocol on free movement sit grandly in the African Union’s Agenda 2063, ratified by almost none of the states that would have to honour them. Solidarity, it turns out, is easy to sign and hard to keep.

The reason the wall stands is not mysterious. South African unemployment sits above thirty per cent and youth unemployment beyond sixty, and a frightened polity has been encouraged to read those figures as a foreign theft rather than a domestic inheritance. There is a grievance with a grain in it — South Africa, unlike Ethiopia, reserves no tier of petty commerce for its own nationals, so the foreigner is visible behind every market stall — but that is a quarrel with the absence of a law, not a licence for the street to write one in blood. The landlessness, the joblessness, the equity gap are the unsettled accounts of apartheid, not the handiwork of a Somali shopkeeper or an Ethiopian trader selling breakfast in the central business district. To charge the structural to the stranger is the oldest sleight in politics, and it is being performed again, at scale, with a date attached.

There is a particular bitterness in the stage on which it plays. It was the victory at Adwa in 1896 — Ethiopian in fact, continental in meaning — that proved European arms could be broken on African ground, and it was the Ethiopianism kindled in its wake that fed the current which would produce South Africa’s own movements of liberation. Nor is the kinship only spiritual. The Ndebele who form a substantial nation within Zimbabwe descend from the Nguni who moved north under Mzilikazi two centuries ago; the Tsonga straddle the Mozambican border as though it were a garden fence; and when South Africa’s liberation fighters needed sanctuary, it was Zambia and Tanzania and Mozambique that housed them, and a continent that funded them. The nation now fixing a date for Africans to leave is a nation whose freedom was, in some measure, an African loan — and it is being asked to repay the loan with expulsion. Empress Taytu — whose severing of the enemy’s water supply at Mekele hastened the reckoning at Adwa — is poorly honoured by men demanding papers in Hillbrow. The solidarity ran one way once. Asked to run the other way now, it is found wanting.

That fracture is no longer a matter of theory. When Bafana Bafana lost their World Cup opener to Mexico this month, much of the continent declined to mourn a fellow African side and chose instead to celebrate, filling the networks with Mexican flags and sombreros and saying plainly that a country which treats African migrants as South Africa now does had spent its claim on African goodwill. The team recovered to reach the knockout rounds for the first time in its history before Canada put it out days ago; but the verdict of that opening night will outlast the scoreline. The debt of Adwa is being called in — and it is the very brothers the marchers would expel who are calling it.

There is a crueller asymmetry still, and this one is global. In the same season that Black Africans are hunted through South African townships, the loudest cry of persecution to reach Washington — and to preoccupy President Trump personally — concerns not them but the country’s white minority. The United States has bent its refugee programme, all but sealed against the world’s war-displaced, into a rescue channel for Afrikaners said to face a “genocide” that South Africa’s government, its own farm-killing statistics, and even its principal Afrikaner lobby groups insist is not occurring; some six thousand have been resettled. No such airlift reached the Malawian who, by a credible account, died after police beat him for failing to produce his papers. Washington files the safer white farmer as a refugee while South Africa files the murdered Black migrant as a statistic of organised crime.

The murdered Black migrant is ‘organised crime.’ The safer white farmer is a refugee. Suffering is legible to power only in certain colours.

The thirtieth of June will pass. The police have promised to meet any violence beyond it with force — itself an admission that they expect some. What will not pass with the date is the trap beneath it: the child turning eighteen into statelessness, the trader weighing whether to raise his shutters, the embassy that answers too late. Ethiopia gave this continent a precedent at Adwa — that the African is not to be presumed upon. It falls now to Ethiopia’s diaspora, and to those who report on it, to insist the precedent still holds, and to refuse, even in grief, the consolation of the easy and the untrue.

E. Frashie for The Ethiopian Tribune

Published 29 June 2026

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From Mandela’s Ethiopian Trainer to Today’s Xenophobic Violence

Ethiopian Tribune editor — Sun, 03 May 2026 02:01:54 +0000

Read Time:10 Minute, 36 Second

How South Africa Forgot Those Who Fought for Its Freedom

By E. Frashie Ethiopian Tribune columnist

I. Introduction: A Nation Haunted by Historical Amnesia

South Africa today is witnessing a meticulously organised resurgence of xenophobic violence. The evidence is chilling in its precision.

At least five Ethiopians have been killed in Johannesburg in recent weeks, with four of the victims shot within 48 hours. On one occasion, three were shot inside a McDonald’s in the Johannesburg Central Business District, victims between 30 and 45 years of age who were having breakfast when the gunman entered and opened fire. CCTV footage reveals execution-style shootings. Police investigations stall. Vulnerable communities live in persistent fear.

Yet this same nation once depended fundamentally on the solidarity, sacrifice, and military expertise of Africans beyond its borders none more symbolically powerful than Ethiopia, the country that trained Nelson Mandela and sheltered the ANC’s armed struggle throughout its most perilous decades.

Among those who shaped that history stands a man whose contributions to South Africa’s liberation should be carved into the moral foundation of the post-apartheid state: Asnakew Sisay Tegegne — known to liberation fighters as ‘The General.’ Today, Ethiopians who might have looked to this legacy for protection are instead being hunted on the streets of Johannesburg, Durban, and Cape Town. This is not merely a security crisis. It is a profound betrayal of history.

II. The Forgotten Ethiopian Who Trained the ANC

Born in 1954 in Azezo, Gondar, Asnakew Sisay grew up in a household steeped in patriotism and Pan-African conviction. His father, Shambel Sisay Tegegne, was a decorated officer under Emperor Haile Selassie. His mother was known for community service and moral leadership. From this soil emerged a young man who believed that African liberation was indivisible — not a series of isolated national struggles, but a unified continental imperative.

The Making of a Commando

• Military and intelligence training

• Strategic studies in guerrilla warfare and counterinsurgency

• Hand-to-hand combat instruction

• Resistance organising and clandestine operations

• Years of political imprisonment as a teenager for anti-colonial activism

By the late 1970s, as liberation movements across southern Africa intensified their campaigns, he was selected to train liberation fighters from across the continent a position of extraordinary responsibility and trust.

Training the ANC’s Umkhonto we Sizwe Fighters

In Zambia, at military camps including the Gondar Military Camp, Asnakew became one of the key instructors for:

• Umkhonto we Sizwe (MK), the armed wing of the ANC

• SWAPO fighters from Namibia

• Southern Sudanese liberation groups

• Somali resistance units

He trained more than 2,000 fighters in close-quarters combat, topography and infiltration techniques, survival skills, sabotage methodology, and political education the ideological foundation without which armed struggle becomes mere violence.

He worked closely with Chris Hani, who served as chief of staff of Umkhonto we Sizwe and was tasked to establish ANC military bases in Tanzania and Zambia during the liberation struggle. To the fighters, Asnakew became known simply as ‘The General.’ To Latin American comrades operating in southern Africa, he was ‘Comandante.’ To Ethiopia, he remained a son carrying the torch of Pan-Africanism into exile.

III. Ethiopia’s Gift to South Africa Now Erased from Memory

When Mandela was released in 1990 and apartheid formally collapsed in 1994, Asnakew returned home. He never sought international acclaim. He never demanded public recognition or monuments. He continued serving Ethiopia in civil society, education, and national development work, operating with the quiet dignity characteristic of those who fought not for glory but for principle.

But South Africa’s political memory grew selective.

Today, many South Africans particularly the youth mobilised by contemporary xenophobic movements — do not know:

• That Mandela received military and political training in Ethiopia

• That Ethiopian officers shaped the ANC’s military doctrine and operational strategy

• That Ethiopia sheltered, armed, fed, and educated anti-apartheid fighters for three decades

• That Ethiopian taxpayers funded liberation movements long before the international community offered support

This amnesia is not accidental. It is politically convenient for those who wish to scapegoat immigrants without acknowledging the continent’s historical bonds of solidarity.

IV. The Rise of Black Apartheid: Vigilantism Repackaged as Populism

In the vacuum created by economic despair and political fragmentation, a new class of populist actors has emerged. Operation Dudula, a vigilante group that has evolved into a political party, mobilises its base around the slogan ‘Put South Africa First,’ using rhetoric that blames migrants for unemployment, crime, and service delivery failures.

Operation Dudula morphed from an online social media campaign propelled by the #PutSouthAfricansFirst hashtag into a xenophobic movement with real-world consequences. The digital-to-physical pipeline is direct: online incitement produces offline violence.

These populist actors do not speak of Ethiopia’s sacrifice. They do not acknowledge Mandela’s training in Addis Ababa. They do not invoke the memory of Asnakew Sisay. Instead, they tell economically desperate South Africans:

• “Foreigners are taking your jobs.”

• “Immigrants are criminals and drug dealers.”

• “We must reclaim our communities from outsiders.”

This rhetoric is carefully calibrated. It does not explicitly call for murder — but it creates what activists call ’emotional permission’ for violence to flourish. It normalises the idea that foreigners are legitimate targets for vigilante action.

The Political and Social Media Infrastructure of Violence

According to Witwatersrand University’s Xenowatch, xenophobic attacks resulted in 669 deaths, 5,310 looted shops, and 127,572 displacements between 1994 and March 2024. The rate of incidents has accelerated sharply in recent months.

According to Human Rights Watch, there were 59 reported incidents of xenophobic discrimination in 2024 and 2,946 individuals displaced as a result. But these figures capture only reported incidents. The true toll is substantially higher, as many attacks go undocumented, victims lack access to reporting mechanisms, and police investigations are routinely stalled or discontinued.

Social media platforms including Facebook, TikTok, and YouTube have failed to adequately moderate xenophobic hate speech, with campaigns like Operation Dudula first emerging online before catalysing real-world outbreaks of violent protests, vigilantism, arson, and murder.

V. The Human Cost: Ethiopians Under Fire Voices from the Community

The Recent Wave of Killings

An estimated 500,000 Ethiopians live in South Africa. In recent weeks, this population has experienced what they describe as a coordinated campaign of targeted violence.

In Johannesburg alone:

• Ethiopians have been shot in restaurants whilst having breakfast

• Executed on sidewalks in broad daylight

• Killed in their shops during business hours

• Targeted for extortion by vigilante groups

• Left largely unprotected by law enforcement

In Durban, six people of Ethiopian origin were killed in alleged xenophobic attacks over a single week, with victims killed in separate incidents, mostly during daylight hours, by South African nationals. One victim was doused in kerosene and set alight.

Victim Testimony and Community Voices

Yonas Fikru, an Ethiopian businessman in Durban, said he knew all six victims all men in their twenties who used to frequent his shop. He described attackers who “just come, steal and attack. They killed them without stealing anything from them. They just came and killed them.”

Tegegne Aboye, another member of the Ethiopian community in Durban, said locals have attempted multiple times to report incidents to police but “it always falls on deaf ears.” He expressed despair: “We see our brothers getting killed, doused with a three-litre jerrican of kerosene, and no one is helping us when this happens. We haven’t seen anyone sticking up for Ethiopian citizens here.”

The silence from law enforcement compounds the trauma. The Ethiopian Embassy in Pretoria released a statement advising Ethiopians to document and report incidents of violence and attack, and said it has requested the South African government to provide security protections to Ethiopians living in the country and to investigate the recent killings. But diplomatic statements, whilst necessary, cannot substitute for state protection.

School Violence and Children at Risk

The violence has extended into educational spaces. Members of Operation Dudula have stormed schools to forcefully eject children of other African nationals and block them from attending classes. Disturbing anti-immigrant videos circulating on social media show chaotic scenes of fear and tension, with schoolchildren in uniform seen running for safety as confusion rises. In one widely circulated clip, a visibly distressed child could be heard crying as his mother attempted to calm him, with her voice laced with fear and confusion. Moments later, gunshots rang out, sending pupils and bystanders scrambling.

Children some as young as five or six are now experiencing xenophobic violence as a routine feature of their schooling.

The Silence and Inaction of State Institutions

The African Commission on Human and Peoples’ Rights has expressed grave concern over recent incidents of xenophobic violence perpetrated against nationals of other African countries in South Africa, noting a pattern that includes the 1998 killing of three foreign nationals in Johannesburg, the August 2000 killings in Cape Town, the May 2008 nationwide attacks resulting in over 60 deaths, 1,700 injuries and 100,000 displacements, and ongoing incidents in the 2020s linked to groups such as Operation Dudula.

This is not a new problem. It is a recurring crisis to which the South African state has consistently failed to respond with adequate investigation, prosecution, or prevention.

VI. The Moral Contradiction: Rights Preacher, Injustice Practitioner

South Africa positions itself as a global defender of human rights and continental peacemaker. The country has filed cases at the International Court of Justice. Its government issues statements condemning injustices in other nations. It presents itself as a beacon of post-conflict reconciliation and constitutional democracy.

But inside its own borders:

• Migrants are hunted with impunity

• Refugees are scapegoated for systemic economic failure

• African solidarity the very principle that sustained the anti-apartheid struggle is treated as a quaint historical artifact

• State institutions fail to investigate, prosecute, or prevent organised violence against vulnerable populations

This contradiction is not sustainable. A nation cannot preach justice abroad whilst tolerating systematic injustice at home without fundamentally compromising its moral authority.

VII. Accountability and Justice Denied

In November 2025, a South African High Court judgment confirmed that Operation Dudula perpetrated intimidation, harassment, incitement to violence and hate speech on grounds of nationality, social origin or ethnicity. The court interdicted Operation Dudula and its leaders from demanding that any private person produce identity documents to demonstrate their right to be in South Africa, and from making public statements on social media platforms that constitute hate speech.

This is welcome. But a court order alone does not stop violence. Implementation and enforcement remain uncertain. Advocacy groups note that whilst police have made arrests, those who sought to inflame tensions on social media and the masterminds remain largely untouched. The infrastructure of incitement persists.

VIII. Conclusion: Remembering “The General” in a Time of Forgetting

Asnakew Sisay Tegegne represents the best of Ethiopia’s Pan-African legacy a man who risked his freedom, his safety, and his life so that South Africans could one day live free from the terror of apartheid. He asked for nothing in return except acknowledgment that African liberation is a shared struggle, and that the bonds forged in struggle impose obligations.

Today, Ethiopians in South Africa are being killed in the very country he helped liberate. They are being killed by their neighbours. They are being killed with impunity. They are being killed whilst a state with a constitution that explicitly protects the rights of non-citizens fails to protect them.

This is not merely a tragedy. It is a betrayal of history, of Pan-Africanism, of the very principles that animated the anti-apartheid struggle.

If South Africa wants to genuinely honour its liberation struggle, it must:

• Protect African migrants and refugees with the full force of law

• Conduct prompt, thorough, and impartial investigations into all reported incidents of violence

• Identify, prosecute, and sanction all perpetrators, including those who organise or incite violence

• Reject populist scapegoating and address the real drivers of unemployment and inequality through structural economic reform

• Teach its youth particularly those born after 1994 the true history of African solidarity and continental struggle

• Implement the court order against Operation Dudula with rigour and consistency

And Ethiopia as a nation, as a government, as a diaspora community must reclaim its narrative. It must remind the continent that its sons and daughters, like Asnakew Sisay, paid the price for Africa’s freedom. It must demand that South Africa honour its commitments to human rights and African brotherhood not merely in rhetoric, but in practice.

History remembers those who fought for justice. It must also remember and condemn those who are dying because justice has been forgotten.