Addis Ababa, January 24, 2026 (ENA) Op-ed by Henok Tadele For centuries, the Abay, known beyond Ethiopia as the Blue Nile—has been spoken of as a river that merely passes through the country, rather than one that is born, nurtured, and sustained within it. The prevailing narrative often celebrates the river’s downstream legacy while overlooking the upstream stewardship that makes its journey possible. As a result, the lion’s share of Ethiopia’s contribution to the world’s longest river remains inadequately communicated, quietly flowing beneath the surface of global discourse. There is no dispute over the figures: nearly 86 percent of the Abay’s total flow originates from Ethiopia’s highlands. Yet numbers alone tell only part of the story. What remains largely absent from international conversations is how Ethiopia’s environmental policies, particularly the ambitious Green Legacy Initiative, have become a decisive force in protecting watersheds, restoring degraded landscapes, and safeguarding the ecological systems that feed the river year after year. Beyond being a mass tree-planting campaign, the Green Legacy Initiative represents a strategic act of green leadership—one that links climate resilience, biodiversity conservation, and water sustainability. By stabilizing soils, replenishing groundwater, and reducing erosion in the Abay Basin, Ethiopia is not merely a source of the river but its guardian. Understanding the future of the Abay, therefore, demands looking beyond the water itself and toward the green vision that keeps its lifeline alive. Across Ethiopia’s highlands, riverbanks, and once-barren hillsides, something quietly historic has been unfolding. Year after year, millions of Ethiopians—farmers, students, civil servants, elders—have bent down to the soil and planted trees. Not as a symbolic gesture, but as a national commitment. The Green Legacy Initiative has now surpassed fifty billion trees, transforming degraded landscapes, stabilizing riverbanks, restoring ecosystems, and slowly replenishing groundwater that feeds the Abay river system itself. Surprisingly, Ethiopia’s Green Legacy Initiative, launched in 2019, has emerged as one of the most ambitious environmental restoration efforts in the world. To date, more than 48 billion trees have been planted nationwide, with a significant share of strategically concentrated in the Abay Basin to rehabilitate degraded ecosystems and protect vital watersheds. This unprecedented effort has raised Ethiopia’s national forest coverage to 23.6 percent, delivering a decisive blow against deforestation while strengthening climate resilience and securing the long-term sustainability of the Abay River. This effort is not cheap. It demands labor, planning, time, and sacrifice from a country that is still struggling with poverty, climate shocks, and development gaps. Ethiopia did not undertake this project for applause, nor solely for itself. Forest cover improves rainfall patterns, reduces soil erosion, limits sedimentation of rivers, and stabilizes water flows downstream. In simple terms, a greener Ethiopia means a healthier Abay basin—one that benefits Sudan and, most of all, Egypt. Yet the burden of this ecological responsibility has been carried almost entirely by Ethiopians alone. It is also unfortunate Egypt, the wealthiest Abay Basin country and the largest downstream beneficiary of Ethiopia’s highlands, has not meaningfully contributed to this environmental effort—not financially, not technically, not even symbolically. Not a single major joint afforestation project. Not a regional green fund. Not a shared vision. This silence is striking, especially when viewed against Egypt’s massive spending on armaments, much of it justified in the name of “water security” and directed, implicitly or explicitly, at Ethiopia itself. Priorities reveal policy. And here, priorities are painfully misplaced. If Egypt had devoted even one-hundredth of its military expenditure toward supporting Ethiopia’s Green Legacy Initiative —toward watershed protection, reforestation, and climate resilience—it would have been a gift not just to Ethiopia, but to the entire region, including Egypt itself. Trees do not threaten nations. Forests do not fire missiles. They stabilize water flows far more effectively than tanks ever could. Instead, Egypt’s approach to water security remains frozen in an earlier century: secure the Abay River by preventing others from touching it. Forbid upstream use. Preserve exclusive control. Treat cooperation as weakness and development elsewhere as danger. This mindset no longer fits the realities of the 21st century. Technology has moved on. Desalination, once prohibitively expensive, is now viable at scale. Countries far smaller and with fewer resources have embraced it decisively. Israel, for example, has secured its water future through large-scale desalination, recycling, and efficiency. It produces surplus water—enough to refill natural lakes and even supply neighbors. This is what strategic thinking looks like: invest in solutions, not fears. Egypt, by contrast, continues to pour billions into weapons while facing mounting urban growth, and climate vulnerability—without building comparable desalination capacity. This is not a question of capability, but of choice. More troubling still is the insistence that Ethiopia should be forbidden from using its own natural resources. All relevant international water principles and treaties recognize the right of upstream countries to equitable and reasonable utilization of shared rivers. Ethiopia is not violating international law by using the Nile; it is exercising a right long denied through colonial-era arrangements that excluded it entirely. Ethiopia’s Green Legacy Initiative stands as a powerful counter-argument to fear-based politics. It shows what responsibility looks like: investing in ecology, thinking long-term, and acting for the common good even when others do not. But responsibility should not be mistaken for submission, nor generosity for silence. The Nile’s future will not be secured by intimidation or outdated claims of exclusivity. It will be secured by cooperation, modern technology, shared investment, and mutual respect. Ethiopia has already shown its hand—green, open, and forward-looking. The question is whether others are willing to do the same. History will not remember who bought more weapons. It will remember who planted trees, preserved water, and chose life over fear.

By Molla Mitiku Every January, as sacred waters are prepared and ancient hymns rise before dawn, Timket (Ethiopian Epiphany) draws Ethiopia into a shared moment of faith and reflection. More than a commemoration of Epiphany, the festival stands at the heart of the nation’s living heritage, linking belief with history, culture, social life, tourism and economic vitality. Rooted in centuries old ritual yet fully alive in the present, Timket shows how a single tradition continues to shape identity, foster unity, sustain livelihoods and project Ethiopia’s heritage to the world. Draped in white cotton garments, millions of Ethiopian Orthodox Christians gather in prayer and song to mark the baptism of Jesus Christ. Timket unfolds not simply as a holy day but as a living national ritual where faith, memory and communal life converge in one of Africa’s oldest public traditions. Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed has repeatedly described Timket as “a celebration that reminds us of who we are as Ethiopians, a people bound by faith, history and shared values.” The festival, he notes, affirms both spiritual renewal and national continuity. “Our traditions are not relics of the past. They are living forces that guide our present and shape our future,” he has said. According to religious scholars, the word Timket comes from the ancient liturgical language Ge’ez, meaning immersion in water, a direct reference to the baptismal rite at the center of the celebration. Historical records trace its observance as a national religious festival to at least the sixth century, placing it among the world’s longest continuously celebrated Christian traditions. Its rituals assumed their formal character during the medieval period, particularly in the fifteenth century under Emperor Zer’a Ya’ekob. During his reign, the ceremonial role of the Tabot, the sacred replica of the Ark of the Covenant, was firmly established. He decreed that Tabots be carried from churches to nearby water bodies for blessing, shaping the majestic processions that now define Timket. Senior theologians stress that the ritual goes far beyond symbolic display. “Timket is not a reenactment for spectacle. It is a living sacrament. When the faithful receive the blessed water, they renew the covenant they entered through baptism,” one explains. At the heart of the festival is the dawn liturgy held beside rivers, lakes or specially prepared pools known as Timket Bahir. Long before sunrise, clergy and worshippers gather in prayer as incense drifts over the water and candles flicker in the darkness. When the water is blessed, the spiritual climax is reached. Holy water is sprinkled on the faithful, while many choose full immersion as a sign of renewal. Timket unfolds over three days, beginning with Ketera, the eve of the main celebration. On this day, Tabots are removed from their sanctuaries in a sacred rite. Ordinarily hidden from public view and accessible only to ordained clergy, the Tabot symbolizes the Tablets of the Law and the presence of God. Wrapped in richly embroidered cloths, the Tabots are carried on the heads of senior priests from churches to designated water sites, accompanied by chanting, rhythmic drumming and vivid ceremonial umbrellas. The night of Ketera is spent in vigil, with prayers and hymns continuing until dawn. While theology forms its foundation, Timket is equally a powerful cultural expression. Across the country, white shamma and netela garments fill streets and open fields, symbolizing purity and humility. Music and movement are central, as traditional church chants echo through towns and villages. In many communities, solemn worship flows naturally into communal singing and dance. Historians describe Timket as deeply reverent yet profoundly joyful, reflecting an Ethiopian understanding of faith as something lived collectively rather than privately. Echoing this view, the Prime Minister has noted, “Our strength as a nation lies in our ability to celebrate diversity while standing together as one people.” Timket also serves as a moment of social renewal. Ethiopians from different backgrounds gather in shared public spaces, where urban professionals stand beside rural farmers and diverse communities move to a common spiritual rhythm. Ethiopians of other faiths often attend as observers, drawn by the atmosphere of inclusion. In rural areas, Timket has long been associated with reconciliation. Disputes are settled, forgiveness is encouraged and communal meals symbolize restored harmony. This tradition reflects the Prime Minister’s message that “peace begins in the hearts of citizens and is strengthened through shared values and mutual forgiveness.” For younger generations, Timket remains a vibrant social occasion. It offers space for friendship, courtship and shared memory. Folk customs, such as young men offering lemons to young women as a sign of interest, continue in many areas, showing how tradition adapts while retaining meaning. Beyond religion, Timket carries deep national significance. Ethiopia, one of the world’s oldest Christian civilizations, views the festival as a living expression of historical endurance. Ancient rites performed in modern cities offer a powerful image of continuity. In 2019, UNESCO inscribed Timket on the Representative List of the Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity, recognizing its role in strengthening social cohesion and transmitting values across generations. The inscription placed Timket alongside other Ethiopian heritages recognized globally, including Meskel, the Gada system of the Oromo, Fichee Chambalaalla of the Sidama, the Ethiopian coffee ceremony, and Ashenda, Shadey and Soleluna celebrations. Heritage experts say the recognition underscores a broader truth that Ethiopia’s heritage lives not only in monuments but in rituals, social systems and everyday practices. International recognition has drawn researchers, cultural institutions and visitors, while diaspora communities recreate Timket processions and water blessings far from home. Cities such as Gondar, Lalibela and Addis Ababa become major centers of religious and cultural tourism during the festival. Sites including Fasilides Bath, the rock hewn churches of Lalibela and Jan Meda attract large crowds eager to witness a tradition that remains lived rather than staged. According to the Ministry of Tourism, Timket has emerged as one of the country’s strongest seasonal drivers of tourism revenue. Ministry assessments indicate that the festival period accounts for a significant share of January domestic travel, with hundreds of thousands of Ethiopians moving between regions. In peak years, Gondar alone hosts close to one million participants during Timket, while Addis Ababa and Lalibela each record several hundred thousand visitors, sharply increasing hotel occupancy and service demand. Ministry data further show that festival related spending during Timket injects hundreds of millions of birr into local economies within a single week. Accommodation, transport, food services and cultural merchandise register their highest seasonal turnover, while small scale traders, weavers and artisans report income increases of two to three times their monthly averages. The Ministry notes that “Timket creates a unique concentration of economic activity that directly benefits community based enterprises.” The economic impact extends beyond immediate consumption. Sustained Timket driven demand has encouraged investment in tourism infrastructure, including hotel expansion, transport services and site restoration. Upgrades at heritage locations such as Fasil Ghebbi in Gondar and improved air and road connectivity to Lalibela were partly justified by predictable festival inflows. State Minister of Tourism Sileshi Girma has stated, “Cultural festivals like Timket are not only spiritual assets. They are engines of inclusive growth when managed responsibly.” Timket also plays a strategic role in Ethiopia’s broader tourism policy, which seeks to lengthen visitor stays and diversify experiences. By promoting authentic cultural engagement rather than spectacle, the country aims to position itself as a destination of depth and meaning. Timket’s religious integrity, combined with its scale and continuity, increasingly attracts international visitors, scholars and diaspora communities seeking connection rather than entertainment. As Ethiopia continues to modernize, Timket remains a constant that anchors communities to shared values and collective memory. “Modernization does not mean losing our soul. It means carrying our heritage forward with confidence,” the Prime Minister has said. From quiet prayers at dawn to the vibrant gatherings that follow, Timket endures as a living celebration of faith, culture and community. As holy water is blessed and shared, and as Tabots journey through streets and fields each year, the festival continues to bind past and present with remarkable continuity, offering a powerful reminder of Ethiopia’s enduring spirit.