Rainy season has begun in Ethiopia’s south. On a stormy morning at a university in the town of Wolkite, students are using drama to break down entrenched ethnic barriers.
Understanding between groups is a rarity in a country where violent conflict is common. Ethiopia’s prime minister, Abiy Ahmed, has promised greater stability, but tensions remain high in various regions and the education system is no more immune to deep-rooted tribal differences than anywhere else.
Wolkite University has struggled with ethnic disputes between students since it was first established six years ago. The institution attracts young people from all over the country, who pay an average fee of 12,000 Ethiopian birr (£330) a year for tuition, food and board. With more than 80 ethnic groups and languages spoken in Ethiopia, the population of almost 15,000 students can struggle to find common ground.
“There are clashes constantly,” says Asteway Mellese, who lectured at Wolkite University for four years. “For instance, if two students fight over a girl, if they are not from the same ethnic group, it will turn into an ethnic conflict and the next day there will be a mass fight; buildings will be set on fire and there will be chaos in the university. When they play soccer, they may have a small collision but if they are from different ethnic groups it becomes an ethnic fight.”
One such clash occurred during last year’s “culture day”, an annual event for which students are encouraged to wear their traditional dress and play traditional music. An Amhara student and an Oromo student got into a physical fight over whose music should be played first.“Students were injured. There were tensions across the university for days just because of playing a song first and second,” says Mellese.
Language is another source of ethnic tension. It is national law that all universities teach in “neutral” English, although many lecturers are not sufficiently fluent and will supplement their lessons with Amharic, Ethiopia’s official working language. Last year, Oromo students in freshman year went on strike, demanding that they be taught in Oromo.
“They were throwing stones at windows, stopping classes forcefully, threatening violence and death to the lecturers who were trying to teach,” says Mellese. “They tried to burn down buildings – it was a disaster. They stopped learning for two weeks.”
The problems are so severe that students from different regions no longer share dormitories. “We don’t mix them any more because they would kill each other,” Mellese says. “They don’t speak the same language and they only want to speak their own language because it is ‘the best’ and their identity is ‘the best.’”
Mellese believes this conviction of superiority stems from “this government bringing ethnic federalism to Ethiopia. The government preached: ‘Your group is special and the rest are not special.’” Since 1995, land rights and political representation have been tied to ethnic identity rather than Ethiopian citizenship, often leading to a bloody struggle for supremacy.
To tackle these issues, Mellese devised a theatre course that promotes indigenous research and performance. The goal is to improve understanding and respect between cultures.
One module requires students to carry out two weeks of field research on a particular ethnic group. “They will be exposed to their food, culture, language and particular issues,” says Mellese. “It’s very interesting and important for the students; they understand how people in the rest of the country are living.” This research forms the basis for students to create a play that is performed before the entire university. Some of the plays are selected for national theatre festivals and broadcast on national television.
Yitbarek Alebachew, a second-year theatre student from Awassa, where the Sidama people are the dominant group, spent two weeks studying Gurage culture in Wolkite. “Indigenous performance reflects the emotions of the nation and the community through the process of traditional folk dance and singing,” he says. “I am able to learn the Gurage culture, which has inspired the characters in the play I have written. It is a love story. Before the wedding there is a fight, after which the meaning of true love in that culture is shown.”
Alebachew believes theatre creates a deeper level of understanding. “It is very powerful,” he says. “We learn through humour and performance. It’s better than PowerPoint presentations or paper.”
Abule Debebe, a theatre and radio production lecturer at Wolkite, agrees: “Yitbarek knows the culture of the Sidama people but through indigenous performance he has learnt about the Gurage people. When he performs, their culture becomes his culture. When he goes back to Awassa, he can be an ambassador for his culture and the Gurage culture.”
Mellese and Debebe have both seen a change among students studying the course. “After they took this course, they increased their tolerance and respect for their own and other ethnic groups,” says Debebe. Wolkite’s indigenous theatre syllabus has since been adopted by three other universities elsewhere in the country: Mekelle, Adigrat and Aksum.
Progress has undoubtedly been made at Wolkite, but across the country violent conflict and mass displacement is causing misery for millions. “It is important for the government to understand the power of culture and use it to establish relationships for the common good rather than to divide,” says Debebe.
