Dear Diaspora, Ethiopia is Not That Into You.
Diana Yohannes Diana Yohannes
Diana Yohannes
Copy Editor | Writer
Published Sep 29, 2023
My life in the US was far from glamorous. I often struggled to make ends meet. As hard as I tried to keep my subtle accent out of my voice, and as much as I tried to own American pride, I could never fully rinse myself off of the stench of foreign-hood. It was the elephant in every room in which I found myself, even when I was alone. I hated that lingering discomfort that rarely rose to the surface, like a piece of food stuck between my teeth. After nearly eight years, I thank God I was able to make the decision to leave. Not everyone is as lucky.
That's why it was shocking and heartbreaking to me when, starting a while back, I found myself fantasizing about going back. Maybe not back, but maybe go to a friendlier European city, maybe? Lisbon? Madrid? My husband could work remotely. I could go back to the delight of being a waitress as I did when I was in college. We could live simply, happily, and in peace. Anywhere but here.
Let me preface with a disclaimer. There is a consistent (growing?) sentiment I see on social media where we don't want to be public about the negatives of living in Ethiopia. They call it ስም ማጥፋት. Slander. I don't think it's being slanderous to share the reality on the ground as it played out in my own experience. In fact, knowing all too well the emotional, financial, and social toll of relocating, I think its far more beneficial to give a balanced view of the reality to the diaspora who admittedly have an exponentially increased propensity for romanticizing their own version of Ethiopia.
Even though my decision to come back was not primarily motivated by nostalgia or patriotism (it was just the most sensible place to go to), I can tell you now I was thinking and looking through rose-colored glasses. Many years later, now, I am learning time has only made those glasses seem rosier. Hindsight is 20/20, they say.
I am married now. I have ran and continue to run various businesses with my husband. If I may say so, we are an ambitious, honest, and excellence-oriented couple; we've gotten into countless, different ventures and we've tried to do them all with excellence. They have all (yes, all) left us drained, discouraged, and feeling unwanted. It's the latter that really drives the spear deep into where I hold a dear place for this country.
Let me be clear: there is a drastic difference between running a business honestly and ethically, and cheating the system. Especially in Ethiopia. For us, operating a business with integrity often meant navigating a labyrinth of hurdles and gotcha's in a system riddled with inefficiencies, cheats, and ambiguities. Almost being penalized for being honest. Meanwhile, you see your neighbor evading taxes and exploiting loopholes, and building his wealth. No one bats an eye— it's just the way things are done here.
Let me give you a scenario. Our company— let's call it Diana's Place— is a service provider. Our Business Development Manager, let's call her Dee, sees a bidding opportunity fitting for Diana's Place. Dee does the math— how much will this service cost Diana's Place? How much will Diana's Place pay in taxes for this? What is a reasonable profit margin for Diana's Place?— and then she draws a financial quote that takes all of this into account. Say, ETB 300K, and presents a financial quote. A competitor to Diana's Place, let's call it Ethiopia's Place, also presents a financial quote with similar math taken into account. Except, Diana's Place's greatest expense— taxes— are cut by about 80% or so for its competitor because tax evasion is real. So Ethiopia's Place's quote is maybe 150K. Not only will Ethiopia's Place easily win this bid, but Diana's Place's reputation begins to tank— "They're far too expensive!"
This is day to day life for all of the businesses we run. This is just one relatively very small problem that has no realistic solution. Similarly, its commonplace to encounter rigged bids. We might spend hours writing the perfect proposal, but unbeknownst to us, the winner has already been handpicked. Again, another relatively small problem that'll have us jeopardizing our moral principles to solve. There is no one who will stand up for you, no one really invested in stopping this. Its a nation with an inefficient and elaborate system built to benefit everyone who participates in this dereliction of duty at every level.
Starting and running a business in Ethiopia, despite the country’s enormous potential and rich resources, is fraught with a myriad of challenges, making the environment hostile for honest entrepreneurship. The dreams of aspiring business owners like us often clash with the reality of a convoluted bureaucratic system, characterized by red tape and often inexplicable delays. There is something that degrades you at your core to go to Gebiwoch— because you want to be an honest businessman who pays the taxes you owe, knowing this is for the common good— and having a government agent slip you a piece of paper with his account information and his desired total (or else, your regular, lawful 40% total tax contribution may hike to 60%).
I know Gebiwoch is an easy target. Gebiwoch has been talked about so much that I feel the diaspora has sentimentalized them, too. There is this inclination to romanticize the "challenges", like its a rite of passage. My friend, that light goes out quick when you find yourself with maybe 10% of the profit you expected, if that. Again, only if you're operating honestly. If you're willing to swindle and hoodwink your way through the system, you'll likely find great success. This country is built to reward that kind of shrewdness.
Beyond the tangible, the intangible aspects of starting a business in Ethiopia are even more daunting. The cultural attitude towards entrepreneurship, excellence, and productivity are not encouraging. The prevailing mindset is one that desires free money. You hire a workforce to lighten your load— what you don't know is that you are adding to your workload because each one needs a level of (technical and emotional) handholding you would not have expected from a college graduate.
Moreover, the infrastructure, or the lack thereof, is another significant barrier for businesses in Ethiopia. The inadequacy of basic amenities like stable electricity, water supply, and transportation networks severely impacts the operational efficiency and productivity of businesses. Our morning commute of mere 7 miles (10 kilometers) from the heavily populated CMC area to 22 Mazoria takes at least an hour (on a good day). In that hour, again on a good day, you'd have nearly died at least twice. All this before your day even begins.
Entrepreneurs with a diasporic background, despite their intentions to contribute to the economic development of the country, face unique challenges. Socially, the perception of the diaspora within the local communities can be laced with misunderstandings and expectations, creating a dichotomy between acceptance and resentment. Even in my own family, I often find myself defensive— I feel a constant pressure to prove my "Habesha card" and navigate the intricate web of societal expectations and obligations. It still rings in my ears what my mom says every time she identifies any disagreement between our two worldviews— "ይሄ እንዳንቺ አገር አይደለም!" It seems that stench of foreign-hood has followed me here, to my own home, and it will follow you, too.
I want to be clear: I love Ethiopia. I am here because I want to be. Despite how it may sound, I am not bitter. However, I am deeply disappointed and heart-broken. There are many, many benefits to living here (especially if you start comparing it to living in the West). But let's call a spade, a spade. Why is this country and its systems built like its finding ways to be rid of me? Rid of my money? Rid of my honesty? Rid of my diligence? Rid of my skills? Rid of my experience? Why do I feel unwanted at every turn? It feels like a cosmic, systematized version of 'He's Not That Into You'.
Dear Diaspora, I want to conclude with the balancing act of adding hope to your perspective. While the journey of starting and running a business in Ethiopia is paved with obstacles and uncertainties, the endeavors of determined and innovative, and honest entrepreneurs are shaping a new narrative, reflecting the possibilities of economic transformation in the country. Balancing optimism with pragmatism, and armed with a deep understanding of the local context, diasporas who come back to their homeland to invest in Ethiopia are striving to turn challenges into opportunities, aspiring to create a more conducive and inclusive business ecosystem for the future generations. You can be part of that legacy, too. Just be clear about what that actually means when it comes down to real life in Addis.
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