In Feresmay, a quiet town nestled in Hahayle Woreda, the story of gold mining is no longer just about wealth—it’s about history on the brink of destruction.
For Sahle Teklu, a longtime resident, it started as a curious tale from his neighbor, a jewelry shop owner. Sahle recalls a troubling discovery that would set his community on a collision course with its own past.
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For eight years, a local man had been quietly finding gold in a place called Egri Awlio, an erosion-prone area just outside town. When the rainy season arrived, heavy rain and floods would loosen the earth, revealing gold in the softened soil. After every downpour, the man would scour the ground for the precious metal, collecting enough to sell to local buyers.
But one day, something unusual happened. Sahle’s neighbor told him that a man had sold him not raw gold but finished pieces—gold artifacts, already crafted and refined. Intrigued, Sahle visited the shop and saw them for himself. The discovery was startling. These were not just hunks of metal fresh from the earth—they were delicate objects, intricately shaped, likely centuries old.
“These aren’t just pieces of gold,” Sahle thought. “They must be heritage artifacts.” Realizing the potential historical value, he urged his neighbor to proceed with caution and report the find. Yet, driven by a deep sense of unease, Sahle needed more answers. Where was this gold really coming from?
An Ancient Discovery Unearthed
In August 2024, Sahle’s investigation took him to the source: Egri Awlio, where the gold had been found. Word of the discovery spread rapidly, and soon, hundreds—if not thousands—descended on the site. Armed with shovels and dreams of wealth, they tore into the earth, searching for gold amid the ruins of what appeared to be an ancient civilization.
As the crowds dug deeper, more than gold emerged from the ground. Ancient tools, ornaments, and even human remains were uncovered—silent witnesses to a long-forgotten past. Sahle knew the implications. This wasn’t a gold rush; it was the desecration of a historical site. The diggers, however, saw only fortune. Many struck it rich, earning between 700,000 and two million birr by selling what they considered mere gold, unaware—or unconcerned—that these were priceless relics of history.
At first, Sahle hesitated to report what he had seen. He understood the profound economic impact this gold was having on his community, where many had transformed their lives overnight. But as more artifacts were plundered and the site was further desecrated, his conscience gnawed at him. He could no longer stand idly by as history was looted.
In frustration, Sahle finally alerted the local authorities in Hahayle Woreda.
The response was swift. Officials banned further digging and immediately notified the Tigray Bureau of Culture and Tourism. Archaeologists, along with a team from Aksum University, were dispatched to investigate the site.
By mid-September, the experts had confirmed Sahle’s worst fears: Egri Awlio was a treasure trove of ancient artifacts. The relics dated back to the pre-Aksumite and Aksumite periods, solidifying the site’s importance as a critical piece of Tigray’s cultural heritage.
A Legacy Nearly Lost
Sadly, the significance of the Feresmay site wasn’t entirely new. It wasn’t the first time Feresmay’s hidden history had been uncovered. A 2009 survey had already identified the area as an ancient heritage site. Tombs and relics had been discovered back then, along with a glimpse into the beliefs of the region’s ancient inhabitants. According to Layn Mawcha, a museum expert from Aksum Museum and a staunch advocate for heritage protection, the people of that era believed in an afterlife, burying their dead with prized possessions—gold ornaments, tools, and pottery. But despite these early warnings, the site had been largely forgotten until the recent gold rush laid it bare once again.
For Kifle Zerue, head of the Archaeology and Tourism Department at Aksum University, the gold buried in Feresmay isn’t just metal—it’s history. As an archaeologist who grew up near the ancient site, Kifle has spent years studying its hidden treasures. The site, he explains, is an ancient graveyard, rich with tombs and human remains. The gold artifacts being unearthed today were buried with the dead, a reflection of the ancient belief in an afterlife where such possessions were needed.
“There are a lot of gold ornaments in the tombs,” Kifle says, his voice heavy with regret. He now leads a team of archaeologists dispatched by the regional Bureau to further investigate the site. But they face a heartbreaking reality: much of the gold has already been looted, sold off by locals who saw only the chance for quick profit, not the destruction of history.
“It’s very sad,” Kifle admits. “People from nearby villages, from Feresmay, and even distant towns have come here to hunt for gold. It’s a frenzy—it’s like hunting.”
Efforts to protect a vanishing past
Beyond their archaeological work, Kifle’s team is trying to limit further damage. They’re working with local officials to offer legal guidance on how to regulate the gold rush while preserving the region’s heritage. Their task is monumental. Despite Kifle’s earlier research, the Feresmay site had no formal protection—no fences, no official recognition, no proper documentation. The lack of institutional oversight left it vulnerable to plunder.
On September 24, 2024, the Bureau of Culture and Tourism issued a directive to local authorities, ordering them to secure the area and halt any mining until proper research could be conducted. Teams from Mekelle, Aksum, and Adigrat universities quickly arrived to begin their work.
Yet even with the ban in place, the gold rush didn’t stop.
Driven by desperation and the hope of striking gold, locals continued to dig in secret. New areas around Egri Awlio—forests, caves, hills, and even communal grazing lands—became targets. According to Sahle, some villagers began digging at night to evade authorities, searching for the telltale signs of ancient tombs—bones, pottery, and artifacts—that might point to hidden treasures.
Guesh Tsehaye, an archaeologist with the Tigray Bureau of Culture and Tourism, was among those sent to the site. Like Kifle, he expressed frustration over the looting, but acknowledged the root cause: the weakening of local governance. “This has allowed for uncontrolled gold mining and heritage destruction.”
The Bureau is now in the process of drafting new legislation to regulate gold mining and protect cultural sites. But Guesh admits there’s a long road ahead. One of the biggest challenges, he notes, is a legal and economic gap. While efforts are being made to recover the ancient artifacts already unearthed, legal gaps make it difficult to ensure that local communities benefit from these heritage sites. Without clear economic incentives, many locals do not feel a sense of ownership over the historical treasures in their midst. As a result, he says that they have little motivation to protect what they see as someone else’s. He and his colleagues are now drafting laws to regulate gold mining and safeguard cultural sites, but the process is slow, and the damage continues.
Moreover, preserving ancient sites comes at a high cost. Researching, documenting, and protecting such areas requires displacing locals, which means compensating them—a financial burden the region struggles to shoulder, Guesh explains. Other heritage sites, such as Mai Adrasha, one of the oldest archaeological sites in East Africa, have already been heavily damaged by unchecked gold mining.
The post-war landscape of Tigray has only intensified the problem. As the region struggles with high unemployment, more and more people are turning to gold mining as a means of survival. According to Layn Mawcha, “There is gold mining all over Tigray. There isn’t a single hill that hasn’t been dug up for gold.”
In cities like Shire, the influx of raw gold into markets is unprecedented. Haile Kidanu, a local jewellery shop owner, describes how the gold supply has skyrocketed over the past two years, a testament to the widespread and often illegal mining happening across the region.
Mai Adrasha: A heritage at risk
The Mai Adrasha heritage site, nestled just five kilometers east of Shire along the river that bears its name, holds over 3,000 years of history beneath its fertile plains. Once a thriving settlement, this ancient town has yielded invaluable archaeological finds—pottery, coins, and bricks—belonging to civilizations from the proto-Aksumite, Aksumite, and post-Aksumite periods. Burials at the site contain stelae, pottery, bracelets, and other grave goods, evidence of a long-standing culture that flourished in northwestern Tigray.
Discovered in 2002 by Tekle Hagos (Prof) of Addis Ababa University and his team, Mai Adrasha is believed to be one of the oldest settlements in East Africa. The Mai Adrasha River, a tributary of the Tekeze River, flows through the area, where erosion and floods have exposed gold artifacts over time. “It’s not just any settlement,” explains Tekle, “It’s one of the oldest towns in East Africa.
But in recent years, this ancient heritage has become a casualty of gold mining. Over time, erosion from floods along the Mai Adrasha River began exposing ancient gold artifacts. As people began to notice gold along the riverbanks, artisanal mining spread into the heart of the heritage site, leading to the destruction of centuries-old burial grounds and settlements. The two-year war in Tigray only intensified the looting, as residents, desperate to survive, dug indiscriminately for gold. “Illegal gold mining is a major threat,” Tekle warns, “and we’re losing a crucial part of our history.”
Irreversible Loss
Kifle Zerue, who has also conducted research at Mai Adrasha, has witnessed firsthand the destruction of the site. Working alongside renowned archaeologist Willeke Wendrich from the University of California, Los Angeles (UCLA), Kifle helped uncover parts of the settlement and its artifacts. “There were plans to build a museum here,” Kifle recalls.
“There was massive looting and destruction,” Kifle says sombrely. “A lot of ancient heritage and history was lost, along with valuable information that could never be recovered.” His frustration is palpable as he describes the irreversible damage. He says the destruction of tombs and artifacts has wiped out key pieces of evidence that would have allowed archaeologists to understand the economic, political, and social dynamics of these ancient societies. “You can’t measure the level of destruction or the lost history,” he adds.
While local authorities banned gold mining at Mai Adrasha months ago, it was too late. Most of the site’s ancient tombs and treasures had already been destroyed, leaving behind an irreparable void.
In the nearby towns of Feresmay and Shire, the looted gold artifacts have become part of a shadow economy. Jewellery shop owners like Tsegay Birhane and Haile Kidanu regularly receive offers from locals trying to sell gold pieces dug up from heritage sites. “They bring them to us, but often we can’t buy them because of concerns about their quality,” Haile explains. “Instead, they go to the raw gold marketplace, sold like any other commodity.”
This hidden trade further devalues the significance of the ancient artifacts, turning historical treasures into mere commodities. Artifacts that could have been studied, preserved, and displayed for future generations are instead melted down or sold without a trace, lost forever.
The Future of Tigray’s Heritage
As uncontrolled gold mining continues across Tigray, archaeologists and heritage experts warn of the broader implications. Layn Mawcha, emphasizes that Mai Adrasha is just one of many vulnerable sites. “Tigray is rich in ancient heritage sites, many of which haven’t even been discovered or researched,” he says. “You find ancient heritage in places you wouldn’t expect. “Most of these sites aren’t documented, making them incredibly vulnerable to damage and looting.”
What started as a desperate bid for survival has morphed into a full-scale crisis, one that threatens the cultural heritage of Ethiopia. With the region’s ancient sites disappearing, the question remains: can a balance be struck between survival and preservation, or will history continue to be the price of gold?
Without swift intervention, Tigray’s cultural heritage risks being lost to the chaos of illegal mining. The gold rush that once fuelled local economies could lead to the erasure of history, leaving future generations with little more than stories of what was.
