By Soliana Tafese
In August 2024, Eco-justice Ethiopia, partnering with Serve Global Youth Volunteer Network, launched an essay competition for Ethiopian youth (age 15-29) with big ideas for a climate-just future. This is the first of three winning entries.
It was a typical evening in Addis Ababa, and I was happily lost in my favorite TV show, wrapped up in my cozy corner of the couch. Just as I got to the good part, my dad marched in at 8 p.m. sharp with his usual, “Time for the news!” I rolled my eyes, muttering, but I knew better than to argue. So, with a sigh, I switched to the national channel, expecting the same old mix of politics and sports. But then, a headline flashed across the screen that made me sit up straight: “Climate Change Threatens Ethiopia’s Coffee Production.” My first thought? “What? Climate change? Affecting our coffee?” I am a serious coffee lover—I mean, who isn’t in Ethiopia? Coffee is not just a drink here; it is a way of life. So, to hear that something as distant sounding and abstract as climate change could mess with our beloved brew? That felt like a cruel joke. Sure, I was aware of the term climate change, swinging along with terms like global warming and greenhouse gases, but I had always felt like we were miles away from the melting ice caps and rising sea levels. In my mind, climate change was a problem for "other countries"—those with big industries polluting the environment, not for a country like ours.
As I continued watching the news, they interviewed a highland farmer who had dedicated his life to growing coffee. He talked about how the weather had gone haywire—longer dry spells, unpredictable rain, and temperatures that did not make sense anymore. It was all wreaking havoc on the coffee crops, threatening to turn our rich coffee legacy into a bitter memory. I was floored. How could something I thought was just Western chatter end up threatening something so close to home, so central to our identity? Suddenly, climate change was not just some distant theory; it was right here, knocking on our door, threatening our morning cups of buna and the livelihoods of countless farmers. The more I thought about it, the more curious and concerned I became. I realized I had been living in blissful ignorance, assuming that climate change was someone else’s problem. But if it could come for our coffee, what else was at risk? I needed to know more. This was not just a news story—it was a wake-up call.
Curiosity quickly turned into concern, and I knew I had to dig deeper. I began reading and researching how climate change was affecting Ethiopia and what I found at the time was both shocking and deeply troubling. It was not just about coffee—our entire country was being hit hard. I came across reports of severe droughts that were devastating the lives of millions, particularly in the southern and eastern regions. The drought in 2016, for instance, was one of the worst in decades, leaving over 10 million people in desperate need of food assistance. The images of parched lands and withered crops were shocking, and it became clear that this was not just about a bad season; it was a new reality.
But it did not stop there. The more I read, the more I realized how widespread the impact was. In the same year, massive floods struck the northern and central parts of Ethiopia, displacing thousands of people. I remember reading about the flooding of the Awash River, which submerged entire communities, destroyed homes, and ruined farmlands. And then there were the forest fires—like the one that swept through the Bale Mountains National Park, a place known for its unique biodiversity. The fire, fueled by unusually dry conditions, tore through the forest, destroying habitats and threatening wildlife. All of these disasters were not isolated incidents; they were directly linked to the changing climate, and they were happening right here, in our backyard.
As I dug deeper into the climate crisis, I began paying closer attention to my environment. It did not take long to see how our daily habits were unwittingly adding to the problem. I noticed people casually tossing litter onto the streets, seemingly oblivious to the consequences. Plastic wrappers and bottles ended up in gutters and parks. And let us not overlook the rivers—plastic waste does not just sit there; it eventually makes its way into waterways, where it breaks down into microplastics. These tiny particles not only pollute the water but also release harmful chemicals into the environment. Beyond littering, I observed other careless behaviors, such as the excessive use of single-use plastics and poorly managed waste disposal, that contribute to greenhouse gas emissions and further exacerbate the climate crisis. I also saw how people were damaging plants along roadsides and in public spaces. Trees and greenery that help absorb carbon dioxide and provide cooling shade were being cut down or neglected by the public. This not only reduces the city's green cover but also diminishes its ability to combat air pollution and moderate temperatures. It dawned on me that every piece of litter, every plastic bag, and every bit of damaged vegetation was not just a local issue but a small cog in the larger machine of climate change. No matter how minor, every action contributes to the broader environmental impact, reinforcing the need for more mindful and sustainable practices.
After diving into the climate change rabbit hole, I decided it was time to make a change. But where to start? The enormity of the problem was overwhelming, and I was not sure how to begin. So, I figured I would start small, right at home. I approached my mom with a suggestion: “How about we use reusable bags instead of plastic ones for grocery shopping?” I asked her. Her reaction was priceless. She looked at me like I had just suggested we start washing our clothes in the Nile. “Reusable bags?” Why bother? Plastics are so much more convenient. We can just use them, throw them away when we are done, and not worry about washing and reusing them. We do not have the luxury for that right now!” Her playful dismissal made me laugh, but it also made me realize how many people still see climate action as a luxury rather than a necessity.
Talking to my friends about it was another eye-opener. I assumed they would be as concerned as I was, but instead, they looked at me like I had suggested we all start living on Mars. One friend remarked, “Are you sure you are not overreacting? It is just some trash.” Another one laughed, “Next thing you know, you will be telling us to ditch our cars and walk everywhere!” It felt like I was trying to convince them that the sky was blue. Their reactions were a mix of amusement and disbelief, and I realized that getting people to take climate change seriously is not just about sharing facts—it is about shifting perspectives and changing attitudes.
These experiences made me understand a crucial point: climate change is not a distant threat—it is knocking on our doors right now. It is not just about dramatic news headlines or international conferences; it is about the everyday choices we make and their impact on our environment. From the severe droughts in Borena and the devastating floods in Gamo Gofa and Wolayita to the recent floods in Addis Ababa, climate change is already here, impacting us in real and tangible ways. The prolonged droughts affecting millions across Afar, Oromia, and Somali regions further highlight the urgent need for action. What does it take for people to notice? Do we need more lives lost in catastrophic wildfires? More homes swallowed by relentless floods? More crops withered and families left starving by prolonged droughts? How much more suffering must we witness before we understand that climate change is not an abstract problem but a reality that is impacting us right now?
It has been six years since that jarring headline about climate change threatening our coffee production. In that time, I have committed to making a difference, starting with myself and my immediate environment. As a family, we have become experts in waste sorting: plastics go with plastics, organic waste with organic, and non-organic with its kind. We even use compost from our kitchen scraps to enrich our garden, where we have grown a small jungle of plants. Convincing my family to embrace this was no small feat. I had to use every trick in the book, from guilt trips to charm offensives, but we finally got there!
On a personal level, I have cut down on plastic use, embraced recycling, and avoided buying products with excessive packaging. I took my newfound awareness to my friends, urging them to reduce their plastic consumption and think more about their environmental impact. We organized neighborhood cleanup events, planted trees in our community, and participated in local recycling drives. I am particularly proud of my many “tree babies,” which I have planted with my friends and classmates through various initiatives. These steps, though small, are part of a larger effort to address climate change right here at home.
But I am not stopping here. I feel the need to do more, and this is just the beginning of my journey. I am committed to continuing my efforts and finding new ways to make a positive impact. So, let us wake up, everyone. Wake up to the reality that climate change is not a distant issue reserved for international forums. It is right here, affecting our land, our weather, and our daily lives. It is time to take responsibility, make conscious choices, and act before it is too late. Because if we do not, we will be left wondering why we did not start sooner when the signs were so clear. We are all accountable for the future our children and grandchildren will inherit. Are we doing enough to protect their world? As we reflect on our actions, let us ask ourselves: Are we truly doing our part to combat this pressing issue, or are we leaving it for someone else to fix? The time to act is now, and the responsibility lies with each of us.
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