As global humanitarian efforts falter amid funding freezes, an Ethiopian charity is gaining momentum, defying the odds with an ambitious fundraising effort. Mekedonia, a home for the homeless and mentally ill, is rallying support through a televised telethon aimed at raising five billion birr—an initiative that has already begun transforming lives.
For many, Mekedonia has been more than just a shelter; it has been a second chance.
“It has been a year since I arrived at Mekedonia’s Addis Ababa home,” says Melaku Assefa, an outspoken man in his mid-60s. “Before that, I was partially rehabilitated at the organization’s Gore branch in southwestern Ethiopia. Since settling here, I have received medical and psychiatric treatment, along with the care and support I needed. I no longer look like the broken man I once was.”
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A journey through darkness
Melaku, who was born and raised in Metu, Wollega, had seen his life unravel. After 25 years in public service—later working as a project administrator in construction firms—he developed a debilitating mental illness. He abandoned his family, speaking of them only in passing, mentioning a child he left behind. Homeless and alone, he spent years living on the streets of Piassa, a historic district in Addis Ababa.
“I made the area around the Russian Cultural Center my home,” he recalls. “For years, I endured hunger, thirst, and violence. I witnessed horrific things. On the streets, you are truly alone. You have nobody.”
But even in the darkest corners, he found resilience.
“You meet people with extraordinary stories—people of integrity and character,” he says.
Despite his struggles, Melaku still remembers his former life vividly. He recalls his office on the fifth floor of the Confederation of Ethiopian Trade Unions headquarters in Addis Ababa. Between 1989 and 1994 (Ethiopian calendar), he was at the peak of his career, representing Ethiopia’s federation of energy, chemical, and mining industry workers.
“I once attended an international conference in Johannesburg, South Africa, where I addressed global industry leaders,” he says. “I warned them about the looming war with Eritrea and urged the international community to pressure Eritrea to step back. I knew Ethiopian workers, already living hand-to-mouth, would suffer immensely.”
Today, dressed in a suit and well-fed, Melaku has found a new purpose—documenting the lives of fellow residents at Mekedonia, including Berhanu Gudeta (Eng.).
From Cybernetics to the streets
Berhanu, 64, is a quiet man of intellect. Born and raised in Addis Ababa’s Ferensay legasion neighborhood, he spent his early years in state foster care at Megenagna, where he studied until the 10th grade. Like many during Ethiopia’s Derg era, he received a scholarship to study in Cuba.
“I completed high school in Cuba and then earned a degree in cybernetics there,” he says, referring to the study of communication and control systems in both living organisms and machines. “When I returned, I was assigned to work at the Tobacco Monopoly. Later, another scholarship took me to East Germany, where I studied civil engineering in Berlin. When I came back, I rejoined the Tobacco Monopoly.”
Berhanu, once a vibrant and athletic young man, had built a successful career, working as a project administrator for the Ethiopian Agriculture Research Institute and Tikur Abay Construction Company.
His story, like Melaku’s, is one of loss, struggle, and resilience. Despite his impressive academic and professional background, life took an unthinkable turn.
Berhanu’s wife and newborn child died due to prenatal complications, a loss that shattered him.
“I fell into severe mental illness after that,” he says. “I ended up on the streets. The bridge near the French Embassy became my home. Life there was brutal. Gangs would rob us of what little we had. Elderly people were humiliated. The cold, the hyenas at night—it was a nightmare. I lived like that for ten years.”
Now, Berhanu is a different man.
“Mekedonia gave me back my health and my hope,” he says. “I work in administration here. I help coordinate security at the clinic and assist in the call center. They showed us love, and now it’s our turn to give back.”
A survivors journey
Belet Ibrahim, a woman in her mid-50s, is another testament to resilience. Despite limited formal education, she carries the wisdom of a lifetime. She was a farmer in rural Wollega, where she had lived since she was 10. She married, raised children, and cultivated a prosperous farm with livestock and fields of corn, peanuts, and peppers.
Then, in 2013 (Ethiopian calendar), violence tore her world apart.
“One day, gunmen came,” she recalls. “They burned our crops. They shot at us at point-blank range.”
She was among a hundred people gathered for what they believed was a community meeting. Instead, it was an ambush.
“I woke up in Nejo Hospital,” she says. “They cared for me for two months. When I finally made it to Addis Ababa, I was still in terrible pain. Every vibration of the bus sent blood oozing from my wounds.”
She pulls back her clothing to reveal deep scars and a stiffened right leg, permanent reminders of the attack. But time has eased some of her pain, both physically and emotionally.
Now, Belet dreams of traveling to Bambasi in the Benishangul-Gumuz region, where her children sought refuge after the attack.
“I just want to see them,” she says. “And then I’ll come back here—to give back however I can.”
On a bright Saturday afternoon, Mekedonia’s sprawling compound is alive with movement. It is lunchtime, and volunteers, clad in matching uniforms, move swiftly through the grounds, carrying trays of food and bottles of water. Some ladle steaming portions onto plates, while others wash dishes.
Under a large tent, a mourning family has set up a feast for the residents—a growing tradition where people bring funeral or celebratory meals to share with those at the charity.
Many at Mekedonia struggle with mental illness, some severely. To accommodate the growing number of residents, two large multi-story buildings are nearing completion, promising shelter to even more people in need.
The Birth of a Lifeline
Mekedonia Humanitarian Association was founded in 2010 by Biniam Belete, a lawyer by training. What began as a small initiative has grown into a national institution, offering shelter, food, clothing, and vocational training. The charity also provides seed money for those ready to start their own businesses, along with counseling and rehabilitation services.
Registered under the Ethiopian Federal Government Charities and Societies Agency, Mekedonia operates from its headquarters on the eastern outskirts of Addis Ababa, near Hayat Condominium. With 44 branches across Ethiopia, its reach extends to every corner of the country.
Today, Mekedonia provides care for 8,500 people, spending 2.5 million birr daily. Hundreds of elderly and mentally ill individuals have been rehabilitated, proving that even in the face of despair, dignity and renewal are possible.
An estimated 600,000 children and young people are currently homeless in Ethiopia, according to available data, with more than 100,000 living in Addis Ababa alone. But experts caution that these figures are likely an underestimation. Without a self-updating national database, the true scale of the crisis remains uncertain.
The root causes of homelessness in the country are complex and deeply entrenched. Studies indicate that rural-to-urban migration, poverty, unemployment, and family breakdown—particularly divorce—are major contributing factors. Roughly 60 percent of the homeless population in urban centers were born in rural areas, having moved to cities in search of better opportunities. Among them, adult women account for one-third of the urban homeless population.
A Nation’s Response
Efforts to tackle homelessness are gaining momentum. Veteran Ethiopian journalist Seleshi Shibiru recently participated in a telethon fundraising campaign, an initiative aimed at expanding the reach of Mekedonia Humanitarian Association.
The televised event saw artists, prominent media figures, and public personalities taking turns on screen, urging viewers to contribute. So far, nearly one billion birr has been raised, largely from Ethiopians living abroad. However, the initial target—5 billion birr in one month—proved elusive, prompting organizers to extend the campaign by another month.
Despite the shortfall, Biniam remains optimistic.
“The participation has been incredible,” Biniam told Reporter Magazine. “People have donated large sums, pledged plots of land, and even handed over long-cherished gold and valuables. I’m overwhelmed by the generosity, particularly from individual donors, though a few corporations have also contributed.”
The funds will be used to complete two twin multi-story buildings at its headquarters, significantly increasing its capacity. The charity aims to expand its reach from 8,500 residents to over 20,000 in the near future.
“I have followed Mekedonia for the past ten years, and it is astonishing to see how it continues to grow,” said Seleshi. “Imagine changing the diapers of 2,500 severely ill individuals three times a day—keeping them clean, nourished, and cared for. Biniam and his wife, Eleni, have done that.”
The Question of Sustainability
As Mekedonia expands, questions about long-term financial sustainability have surfaced. Many observers believe the organization must begin generating its own income.
Melaku, a long-time resident, sees Mekedonia evolving into a self-sustaining charity village.
“With Biniam scaling up to accommodate more than 20,000 people, it will eventually need to sustain itself,” he said. “I, for one, am ready to contribute to developing an income-generating project.”
Berhanu shares this view.
“With the rate at which this charity is growing, financial independence through income-generating activities is a necessity,” he said.
Seleshi, the journalist, also supports the idea.
“We have urged Biniam to establish income-generating initiatives, even a bank,” he said. “But Biniam is deeply spiritual—he believes that Ethiopians will support the charity.”
When asked about the possibility of launching poultry or crop farming if the government were to provide land, Biniam did not dismiss the idea outright.
“Charity is what I do best, and I believe Ethiopians will continue to support it. Can’t you see this is the work of God?” he said adding, “but the idea does sound promising.”
Mekedonia is more than a charity; it is a lifeline for those society has abandoned. As it pushes forward with its ambitious fundraising efforts, it carries with it the hopes of many—people who once had nowhere else to turn.
