Read Chapter One — No Email Required

Like all of my brothers and sisters, I was born in a “Hedmo (ህድሞ)”, a traditional house dominant in the highlands of Eritrea. These houses consist mainly of masonry walls, wooden ceilings, and soil roofs. It is a unique design, accommodating a dining room, bedroom, and “cooking (ውሻጠ)” com- partments. The main dining part of the hedmo, in most cases, is separated from the cooking area by grain “silos (ቆፎ)” made of “cow dung (ዒባ) and ash.” It has a wide all-purpose “front-yard (ገበላ)” for the relaxation of fami- ly and friends, mostly in the evenings. Hedmo is supported by many wooden pillars.

My late mother, Weizero Abeba Reda, gave birth to all her children in the same hedmo and on the same “Ni’edi (ንእዲ),” a stone-and-mud traditional bed, with the support of traditional midwives. These midwives did not have any formal medical training; their skills had been passed down from older midwives. There were no sterile instruments or emergency facilities. It was all in the hands of God. My mother never visited a healthcare facility nor was she provided with any type of healthcare advice, support, or medical check-up during her eight pregnancies. The few healthcare centers in the country were located in towns far from the villages, where transportation was almost non-existent and a significant challenge. Additionally, there were no healthcare awareness programs offered to the public in remote areas. This was the common practice for every woman until delivery. The maternal and infant mortality rates in those days were high. We were among the few lucky families where we all survived to adulthood except for my youngest sister, Tsega Tesfazghi, who unfortunately, passed away in 1995 from malaria at a young age.

My mother was born in the village of Una Andom (ዑና ዓንዶም) before her parents moved to the city of Asmara. My mother was illiterate, though she lived in Asmara, the capital city of Eritrea, where limited schools were available. In those days, young girls were expected to wed and give birth. My grandparents did not see any benefit or value in sending my mother to school in the city because they expected her to marry soon. The general perception in those days was that schools were primarily for boys. She was engaged to and wed my father at the age of thirteen and moved to the village of Sere’e. Their marriage was an arranged one. Both sets of parents agreed on the marriage based on their bloodlines. My father and mother had no choice but to accept their parents’ arrangements. In those years in Eritrea, particularly in the highlands, marriage was arranged by bloodline, and it was the primary responsibility of the parents to choose and arrange marriages of their children.

I was told that my parents’ marriage was a rarity and a unique arrange- ment by all standards. My mother was from the capital city of Asmara, and for her to leave behind the ‘civilized world’ with easy access to clean water, electricity, transportation, communication, healthcare, a variety of food types, and all the other advantages of city life, and move to an ancient rural village, was a significant challenge. In the highland plateau of Eritrea, people live in small villages, practicing subsistence farming and animal husbandry, while in the lowlands, they follow semi-nomadic pastoral or agro-pastoral lifestyles.

Despite all these difficulties, the village elders told me that my mother adjusted well and adapted quickly to village life. She became known in the community by launching new cooking methods and introducing various city household practices. Beyond being my mother, she was a loving pro- tector and disciplinarian who sacrificed all the conveniences of the city for the well-being of her husband and her eight children. She helped her children believe in themselves and grow up into adulthood with integrity, strength, and self-confidence. A good mother is a God-given gift.

My Father – Surviving the Colonial Era

Eritrea remained under Italian colonial rule from 1889 until 1941. During World War II, in January 1941, British forces and their allies defeated the fascist Italian regime and took control of Eritrea. The territory was then placed under British military administration, which dismantled its indus- tries and infrastructure, aiming to weaken its prospects for independence and facilitate its unification with the Kingdom of Ethiopia.

My father, in the year of 1939 like many Eritrean youth of his time, was forcibly abducted from his village by the Fascists and conscripted into the Italian Carabinieri, a native national police force under an Italian com- mand. This period of his life, marked by involuntary service and separation from family, profoundly shaped his later years. After the defeat of the Ital- ians in World War II in 1941, he returned to his village to resume a simple life as a farmer. Tragically, he discovered that he had lost all his brothers, each in devastating circumstances. One of his brothers, Uncle Mengesha, was kidnapped by the Italians at a very tender age while herding the fam- ily’s livestock in the Hazemo plains. He was never seen or heard from again, leaving a permanent void in the family’s history. Another brother, Uncle Seyoum, succumbed to an illness, a common fate in an era when access to medical care was non-existent. The youngest, Uncle Arefaine, met a tragic end in the dense jungles of Hazemo. One night, while he was asleep alongside friends; tending the family’s large herd, fire swept through their camp. The animals had been kept in “open makeshift cattle ranching shelter (ምሕዳር)” deep in the forest due to their sheer numbers. The blaze claimed Arefaine’s life.

With none of his brothers leaving behind children, the weight of their loss fell heavily on my father. He bore not only the grief of losing them all but also the burden of their disappearing legacy. Their absence left him disillusioned, lonely, and deeply vulnerable. In those days – as in many societies around the world – having several brothers and many children offered a sense of security, social standing, and even a kind of informal retirement plan. Though he had three sisters whom he loved, respected, and trusted deeply, it was still a man’s world. Perhaps this helps explain my father’s extraordinary, lifelong devotion to his own children. In the midst of profound sorrow, he drew strength from his family.

Village Life
In those years our village, Sere’e, was regarded as one of the most afflu- ent in the Egela Haxin sub-zone. With a population of about 1,500, Sere’e stood as one of the most populated villages in the sub-zone. Its fertile plains were home to thousands of domestic animals, and its people cultivated a rich variety of crops, including maize, brown taff, sorghum, finger millet (ዳጉሻ), peas, barley, chickpeas, green peppers, tomatoes, garden cress, flax, lentils, and other vegetables.

The people of Sere’e were deeply religious and took immense pride in their identity, language, traditions, and rich culture. Life was modest yet self-sufficient. As children, we spent our days herding “lambs (መሓስኣት),” playing along the riverbanks, and running freely through the agricultural fields. Without running water, women and girls fetched it in clay contain- ers called locally “Etro (ዕትሮ)” or with donkeys carrying water containers made of polycotton cloth known as “Girba (ጊርባ).” The wells positioned at the river mouth were vital to our survival and that to our animals. Fetching water was considered a female responsibility, passed down through gener- ations. Life may seem primitive by modern standards, but the village was self-reliant. The villagers were wealthy in livestock, milk, grains, and hon- ey, and their generosity, honesty, unity and devotion left a lasting impres- sion on anyone who visited.

Education in Sere’e
Formal schooling was a distant dream in Sere’e. Instead, education took root within the modest walls of “Saint Mary’s Church (ቤተ ክርስትያን ማርያም ሰርዐ),” an Orthodox sanctuary where learning was passed down through the oral traditions of storytelling and recitation. In the late 1960s, night lessons were conducted in a blend of “Tigrigna and Ge’ez (ግዕዝ)” were led by the esteemed “Qeshi Neguse Atzebaha (ቐሺ ንጉሰ ኣጽብሃ),” the head priest, whose teachings were firmly rooted in the doctrines of the Orthodox faith.

The curriculum revolved around two sacred skills – Memorization and Oral Recitation. Young students would gather in the dimly lit church, listening intently as the priest recited ancient Ge’ez religious texts. Writ- ing, if pursued, required immense self-discipline, as learning the intricate Ge’ez alphabets was a solitary endeavour outside the church. Materials like pens and paper were virtually non-existent, making every written word a testament to determination.

The church atmosphere was both sombre and inspiring, illuminated by the faint glow of kerosene lamps called “Lamba (ላምባ).” These simple device, with flat cotton wicks, cast flickering yellow light that danced on the rough walls. Yet, the smoky haze they produced was a constant discomfort. For the students, this smoke became a symbol of endurance; a remind- er that even a dim light could brighten the path to knowledge. Despite the challenges, the church served as a beacon of hope. It was more than a place of worship; it was a sanctuary of learning where tradition and faith nurtured young minds. In Sere’e, oral education was an act of devotion, resilience, and unshakable belief in the transformative power of words. My best friend martyr Teame Negash and I attended the night classes along with few other.

Transportation and Community Life
Transportation in Sere’e was limited. Each day, a single blue bus made its way across the Hazemo plains, traveling from Asmara to “Atkaro (ኣትካሮ)” – now known as “Tzerona (ጸሮና)” – a semi-town not far from the border with Ethiopia. Catching the bus, however, was always a gamble. Three factors determined the chances; whether the bus would pass that day, whether there would be room, and the mood of the driver. On a bad day, the moody driver might even bypass passengers who had waited for hours along the roadside.

For most people, horses, mules, and donkeys were the primary means of transportation. My late father frequently travelled on a horseback or mule for regional journeys. Our community, rooted in agriculture, thrived on a plentiful supply of food and milk. During the farming season, which lasted four to five months, everyone worked tirelessly in the fields. The re- maining months of the year were devoted to travel, weddings, and leisure.

Radios were a rare luxury; batteries were expensive and hard to find. By the early 1960s, only eleven radios existed in our village, and even those were often without batteries. News travelled by word of mouth, and eve- nings were spent around the elders, listening to their stories and folklore. The outside world felt distant and almost mythical; its events mere echoes from another universe.

Reflection
Life in Sere’e, though simple, was deeply woven with a sense of commu- nity, culture, and unwavering resilience. The people faced every challenge with quiet strength, finding joy in the small yet meaningful moments that shaped their existence. From the steady glow of kerosene lamps illumi- nating the evening air to the wisdom passed down through generations in the form of “traditional laws and customs (ሕጊ እንዳባ)”, each moment felt like a thread carefully intertwined into the vibrant tapestry of the rich history of our village. The whispered stories of elders carried the echoes of the past, ensuring that no lesson, no memory, was ever truly lost.

The Establishment of Sere’e
Sere’e is an ancient village, originally occupied and likely established by a strong clan known as the Belew-Kelew (በለው ከለው) clan. To this day, there is a Belew-Kelew archaeological site located 20 km south of the town of Quhaito (ቆሓይቶ) in the Southern Zone of Eritrea. This archaeological site is named after the historic small nearby village of Matara (መጠራ).

Matara holds significant historical importance for both the Belew- Kelew clan and Eritrea as a whole. Archaeologists have uncovered evidence suggesting that Matara, within Medree Bahree (modern-day Eritrea), was closely associated with the Axumite Empire. It played a key role in the trade routes connecting the city of Axum to the ancient ports of Adulis and Zula, located at the mouth of the Eritrean Red Sea. This civilization spanned over 1,000 years.

According to historical records, the Belew-Kelew clan, a predomi- nantly Christian group of mixed Beja and Bedouin ancestry, entered pres- ent-day Eritrea around the 12th century after the decline of the Beja king- doms. They mainly controlled the northwestern part of today’s Eritrea. History indicates that they came from southern Egypt and established the Belew Kingdoms. During this period, they adopted the Tigrigna language and assimilated with the Tigrigna, Tigre, and other ethnic groups, adopting their cultures. To this day, the Belew-Kelew clan is remembered in the oral traditions of several Eritrean ethnic groups.

Tigrigna – A Living Legacy of Ge’ez Language
Tigrigna, Eritrea’s national language, is a descendant of Ge’ez language.
Ge’ez, one of the world’s oldest written languages, consists of 26 con- sonantal characters. Originally written as a consonantal alphabet, the script evolved into a full abugida, in which each character represents a consonant-vowel combination. The closest living relatives of Ge’ez are Tigre and Tigrigna, both of which remain integral to Eritrea’s cultural heritage. The obelisk in Matara, Eritrea, is a pre-Aksumite monument and bears the oldest known example of ancient Ge’ez script. According to linguists, Ge’ez is not a South Arabian language but a Semitic language derived from the biblical “Shem” languages spoken around 4,000 years ago. These Shem languages form a branch of the Afroasiatic language family, which includes Tigre, Tigrigna, Amharic, Aramaic, Hebrew, Arabic, and Maltese.

In the 13th century, the oldest reference to written Tigrigna – a text of local customary laws – was found in Logosarda, a sub-zone located around the town of Tzerona in the Southern Zone of Eritrea. This Sub-zone holds many hidden treasures waiting to be discovered. Relative to this history, the United Nations reported the discovery of what is believed to be the oldest settled agricultural community in Africa, found on the outskirts of Asmara, the Eritrean capital.

Three Logo Brothers (ሰለስተ የሕዋት ለጎ)
The patriarch of the Logo clan (ነገደ ለጎ) of Medree Bahree is known as Tesfaghiorgis Neqe’e (ተስፋግዮርጊስ ነቐዐ), the grandson of Qeyih Ambessa (ቀዪሕ ኣምበሳ) and the son of Feshaghiorghis (ፍስሓጊዮርጊስ). Historical ac- counts describe Tesfaghiorgis as one of the few individuals from the Logo clan who survived a local war. Being blind, he lived with his wealthy daughter, who took care of him.

The story goes on that – one day, while taking her father for a walk, his daughter reflected on his strength despite his blindness. She decided to ar- range a marriage for him to improve and enhance his life. She had a beau- tiful maid whom she wanted as her father’s partner. However, she worried that the maid might refuse the match because of his age and blindness. The daughter devised a plan to secure the maid’s promise before revealing her request. She asked the maid to give her word that she would fulfil any favor she might ask. The maid, who loved, respected, and trusted her mistress, hesitated but eventually agreed.

When the daughter revealed her request that the maid marry her blind father, the maid was shocked. She exclaimed, “Mistress, how can I marry a man who is both old and blind?” However, in those days, promises were considered irrevocable, and the maid had to honour her word. The maid married Tesfaghiorgis Neqe’e – the blind man – and bore him three sons: Ghemedai (ገመዳይ), Bixi’ay (ብጽዓይ), and Hanso (ሓንሶ).

Ghemedai Tesfaghiorgis Neqe’e settled in Shiketi (ሽከቲ), Himberti (ሕምብርቲ), both villages near Asmara in the Logo-Chiwa region (to- day’s Central Zone) and in Adi Logo Xilma (ዓዲ ሎጎ ጽልማ).

Bixi’ay Tesfaghiorgis Neqe’e settled in Adi Hayo (ዓዲ ሓዮ), Dbarwa Geza Lamza (ድባርዋ ገዛ ላምዛ), Adi Senegat (ዓዲ ሰነጋት), Sherefeto (ሸረፈቶ), Embardae (እምባርዳእ), Adi Xina’ay (ዓዲ ጹነዓይ), with descendants spread across Seraye and Hamasien regions in Eritrea.

Hanso Tesfaghiorgis Neqe’e settled in Sarda (ሳርዳ), near Tzerona in the southern tip of Akele Guzay. Hanso had seven (7) children in Sarda.

The descendants of Hanso became known as the “Seven Logo Brothers,” named after his seven sons: Hutut (ሑቱት), Negdeyo (ንግደዮ), Kefa (ኬፋ), Yaye (ያየ), Xenba’e (ጸንባዕ), Ungug (ዕንጉግ), and Lahkuen (ላሕኬን). The village of Sarda is still referred today as “Adi Show’ate Logo (ሸውዓተ ሎጎ),” mean- ing “The Village of the Seven Logo Brothers.”

The seven children of Hanso established new settlements and agricultural plains, almost all within the Akele Guzay region, carefully chosen to benefit their future descendants.

Hutut established a village named Una Argenai (ዑና ዓርገናይ) in the plains of Hazemo, with his three sons –

• Negdeyo established a village called Adi Negdeyo (ዓዲ ንግደዮ)
• Kefa established a village called Andeqitta (ዓንደቒጣ)
• Yaye established a village called Mehrad Lam (ምሕራድ ላም)
  
  

Xenba’e established a village called Beati Ahha (ብዓቲሓ)

Ungug established a village called Sukum (ሱኹም)

Lahkuen established a village called Laxet (ላጸት)

Sere’e Seleste Gheza (ሰርዐ ሰለስተ ገዛ)

Regional storytellers recount that the first settlers of Sere’e village hailed from the Belew clan. Sometime in the 12th century, the three sons of Hutut;

• Abzghi (ዓብዝጊ)
• Teklom (ተኽሎም)
• Hankaso (ሓንካሶ)

moved out from Una-Argenai and relocated to the mountainous terrain of Upper Sere’e village. Upon arrival, they encountered Oqbaharia, the headman of the Belew clan, and were welcomed into the village com- munity, marking the start of their shared history.

In those days, safety and health concerns heavily influenced where people established their villages. High hills offered natural protection from incoming enemies, malaria, and other tropical diseases, making them the ideal choice for settlement. It was on one such hill that the three Logo brothers and their families made their home, joining the small Belew clan in the area known as Upper Sere’e.

Initially, the Belew clan, modest in number, welcomed the new ar- rivals. Over time, however, the descendants of the three Logo brothers flourished, their numbers eventually surpassing those of the original clan. This shift in population led to the renaming of the village as “Sere’e Seleste Logo (ሰርዐ ሰለስተ ሎጎ),” meaning “Sere’e, the Village of the Three Logo Brothers.” The name still honours the legacy of the brothers who had established their roots there.

As generations passed and the population expanded further, the Logo descendants began to move from the high hills to the lower slopes, seeking more space and easier access to resources. The village gradually spread to where it now lies. While a few members of the Belew clan remain, the majority of the villagers today trace their lineage back to the three Logo brothers. The Logo clan, known for its rich tapestry of cultural and reli- gious diversity, has long embraced both Christianity and Islam, coexisting peacefully for centuries. This shared history, built on deep mutual respect and understanding, has fostered a strong and unified community.

At the heart of Sere’e stands the revered Saint Mary Orthodox Church; a cherished landmark that symbolizes both spiritual devotion and cultural heritage. Built nearly two centuries ago with generous contributions from Shiketi, few Eritrean villages, and communities in Ethiopia, the church is a masterpiece of traditional craftsmanship. Its intricately carved wooden doors, each a work of art, reflect the skill and faith of the artisans who constructed them. To this day, Saint Mary Church remains a vibrant and meticulously preserved centre of worship, embodying the villagers’ stead- fast commitment to their heritage. It holds not only a place of pride within Sere’e but is also celebrated nationwide. The National Museum of Eritrea has honoured it as one of the country’s most iconic and historically signif- icant landmarks.