Thu., 24 April 2025
9 minutes read
Poor road condition in Gindabarat. Photo: Guddataa/Facebook
By Teshome Hunduma (PhD)
Isolation within
In his influential book The Bottom Billion, renowned development economist and Oxford professor Paul Collier offers a clear and urgent prescription for landlocked and economically constrained nations: “connect, make peace, and integrate with your neighbors because neighbors matter.” Ethiopia often echoes this logic in its economic policies, touting connectivity and regional integration as national priorities. However, this guidance remains unfulfilled locally in districts like Gindabarat. Although just 193 kilometers from the capital, Gindabarat’s near-complete geographic, infrastructural, and economic isolation contradicts Ethiopia’s development ambition. In districts like Gindabarat, this guidance is more than timely; it is a direct call to action for regional authorities responsible for ending generations of isolation, poverty, and neglect. Collier’s advice is grounded in data: when a country’s neighbors experience just 1% additional growth, the country typically grows by a further 0.4%. Applying Collier’s national framework to a district like Gindabarat may seem unconventional, but the circumstances make it strikingly relevant. The district’s high levels of agricultural production and productivity, as I will show below, not only contribute to neighboring regions but also hold the potential to lift its own population out of poverty if supported by proper infrastructure and connectivity.
An “Island” in the highlands
Located in the west-central highlands of Ethiopia, approximately 193 kilometers from Addis Ababa, Gindabarat (also written as Gindeberet) is a district as physically close to the capital as it is politically and economically isolated. With a population of over 300,000, it remains a district cut off from opportunity. Once a single administrative unit, Gindabarat was divided in 1997, with its eastern portion becoming the separate district of Abuna Gindabarat. In this op-ed, I refer to Gindabarat in its broader historical and geographical context, encompassing both districts, whose shared terrain presents formidable natural and administrative boundaries.
To the north, the Blue Nile River forms a natural barrier separating Gindabarat from the Amhara National Regional State. Deep gorges, rivers, and escarpments mark the districts’ western and eastern edges, splitting them from the East Wollega and North Shewa zones of the Oromia National Regional State. From its highest point of about 2,600 meters above sea level in the district town of Kachisi, the elevation descends gradually across the cooler highlands and then sharply into the warmer midland zones, reaching approximately 1,000 meters above sea level in all directions. This topographical gradient forms a mountain-like island landmass, reinforcing the district’s geographic and infrastructural isolation. The only viable entry point is from the south, beyond Ambo, the capital of West Shewa Zone, via a single tertiary road leading to Ginchi and onward to Addis Ababa. However, this unreliable, poorly maintained narrow road is the district’s sole connection to the broader regional and national economy. It is frequently washed out or impassable during the rainy season, effectively isolating the districts. Though just 193 kilometers from the capital, Gindabarat is not merely landlocked; it is roadblocked, and until those changes, its potential will remain out of reach.
Fertile ground, forgotten potential
During my master’s field research in 2005, conducted across seven gandas (villages), I documented 102 local varieties across 26 crop species, including cereals, oilseeds, legumes, and industrial crops, excluding a substantial diversity of fruits, vegetables, herbs, spices, and medicinal plants. I also recorded 15 wild relatives of five major cultivated species in these villages, highlighting the district’s rich but underutilized plant genetic resources in agriculture. I often wondered how much greater the figures might have been had the research covered the entire district and its full range of food crops.
Despite its reputation for fertile land and exceptional agricultural production diversity, Gindabarat remains one of Ethiopia’s poorest districts in terms of infrastructure and institutional services, including access to markets. In the mid-1990s through the early 2000s, when I was still in high school and later spent my college and university vacations with my parents in the area, people working in the district’s agricultural office often spoke proudly of Gindabarat’s rank as one of the most grain-producing districts in West Shewa Zone of Oromia Region.
With appropriate investment and infrastructure, it could become a destination for eco-tourism and wellness retreats, aligning well with Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed’s “Dine for Ethiopia” initiative…
Among the most promising resources are the district’s fertile lowland soils in the south, west, north, and east, which could serve as a primary production zone for export-quality oilseeds, primarily sesame. The area is already known for cultivating niger seed (noug), Ethiopian mustard (gomenzer), and castor bean. Whenever I had the chance to speak with friends and family about potential sources of economic growth for the district, they often mentioned the idea of food oil processing factories, recognizing the untapped potential in oilseed production. When I returned for my PhD fieldwork in 2017 and 2018, I found that much of this natural and agricultural wealth remained intact. However, a persistent challenge continues to hold the region back. Farmers in the highlands, whose soils have become increasingly degraded, still lack access to essential agricultural inputs such as improved seeds and chemical fertilizers. This isn’t due to a lack of knowledge, but to inadequate infrastructure and institutional support, above all, a reliable all-weather road. At the same time, I witnessed a troubling disconnect between rural production and urban demand. In the 1990s, I observed farmers discarding unsold potato tubers and maize harvested at the silking stage for consumption as leafy vegetables, unable to secure buyers and transport their produce back to remote homesteads. At the same time, in stark contrast, urban households grappled with the high cost of staple foods. That such a stark disconnect exists less than 200 kilometers from the capital challenges the credibility of Ethiopia’s rural development narrative.
Apiculture, hot springs, and untapped wealth
Beyond its agricultural promise, Gindabarat also holds significant but underdeveloped potential in natural resources and tourism. The district supports active apiculture, and locals report sites with gasoline-like odors, suggesting the presence of natural gas reserves yet to be explored. Gindabarat’s unknown distinctive features are the natural hot spring, Bishaan Ho’aa Yaddii (Yaddii hot spring), which is valued by local communities for its healing properties. I visited the spring at the age of eight with my father and uncle, and even today, it remains a valued traditional wellness site. With appropriate investment and infrastructure, it could become a destination for eco-tourism and wellness retreats, aligning well with Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed’s “Dine for Ethiopia” initiative as part of the national tourism strategy, which emphasizes lodge development in culturally and ecologically significant areas.
Promises made, promises broken
For over 75 years, the people of Gindabarat have undergone a long history of unfulfilled promises about all-weather road construction. As far back as the early 1960s, during Emperor Haile Selassie’s reign, government officials pledged to build a road extending through the gorges of the Blue Nile River — a plan that never came to life. In the late 1970s and early 1980s, the Derg regime revived the promise with plans for a Ginchi–Gindabarat road, but again, no construction followed. The EPRDF government repeated similar pledges in 2004, 2009, and 2015, none of which resulted in progress. In November 2018, under the leadership of Dr. Lemma Megersa, a 63.21 km asphalt road from Shukute to Culluxxee was officially launched with a budget of over 1.3 billion ETB. A foundation stone was laid with a 33-month construction timeline, yet the project stalled before work began. Most recently, in November 2024, the same road project was re-tendered, with three contractors participating. Still, according to residents, the process was abruptly closed without explanation or result, except for a recent slow construction progress towards Shukute. To this day, the Gindabarat road remains unbuilt.
The government of Ethiopia, which frequently cites China’s development model and champions its own Homegrown Economic Reform Agenda, risks contradicting its stated ambitions if it continues to deprioritize rural infrastructure
For Gindabarat-born citizens and residents, the consequences of this long-standing neglect are not merely administrative; they are profoundly personal. In 1994, my friends and I walked about 103 kilometers between the district town of Kachisi and Ginchi, and back again, to take a passport-size photo. At the time, providing a formal photograph was a requirement to register for the Ethiopian School Leaving Certificate Examination, a critical national milestone for university admission. I still remember my Ethiopian-made canvas shoes falling apart upon arrival in Ginchi, forcing me to walk barefoot for much of the return journey. More than three decades later, the condition of that road remains virtually unchanged.
A plea for connection
In a heartfelt public plea on Facebook, historian, educator, long-time resident, and community development advocate Guddataa Taaddasaa Bantii has called attention to the chronic lack of an all-weather asphalt road connecting the districts of Gindabarat and Abuna Gindabarat to the rest of the country. He says this crisis has cost lives, stifled development, and deepened the districts’ isolation. Despite its proximity to Ethiopia’s capital, Addis Ababa, Gindabarat remains cut off from essential services and opportunities. The poor road access continues to obstruct trade, agriculture, and the exploration of valuable mineral resources. The situation also hinders emergency medical access and restricts the movement of goods and people and access to media and public information, leaving the community economically sidelined and socially isolated, except for Addis Standard’s recent reporting about the mounting crisis in the area. Describing Gindabarat as “an island,” created by a road infrastructure barrier, Guddataa underscores how the absence of infrastructure has long symbolized neglect. He calls for urgent government intervention, citing the mounting toll the road crisis has taken on the district’s development and the well-being of its population.
A missing link in Ethiopia’s growth agenda
In the context of Gindabarat’s chronic isolation, Paul Collier’s emphasis on connectivity in The Bottom Billion is more than relevant; it is foundational. The government of Ethiopia, which frequently cites China’s development model and champions its own Homegrown Economic Reform Agenda, risks contradicting its stated ambitions if it continues to deprioritize rural infrastructure. Failing to invest in rural areas like Gindabarat undermines the country’s commitments to sustainable infrastructure, equitable urban–rural development, sustainable peace, and agricultural transformation—pillars critical to building an inclusive, resilient economy.
Improved roads serve as economic arteries for rural communities. Expanding road networks per capita correlate significantly with GDP growth, increased exports, and enhanced educational investment. Rural road development, in particular, has shown more substantial returns than urban expressways in low-income countries, precisely because it connects isolated producers with active markets and service centers.
A recent study titled “Roads and Jobs in Ethiopia,” published in the World Bank Economic Review, found that improvements in road infrastructure through the Road Sector Development Program significantly enhanced market access. This development created new employment opportunities for young people and contributed to peace and stability by facilitating economic transformation and encouraging internal migration towards service-based jobs. In rural Ethiopia, like Gindabarat, better roads would allow farmers to reach nearby urban markets around the capital with their produce before it perishes or goes to waste, enabling them to reinvest profits in fertilizers, improved seeds, and farming equipment. Therefore, road infrastructure can raise productivity and incomes, generate taxable revenue for local governments, and catalyze reinvestment into schools, clinics, and extension services. At the same time, the flow of fresh produce from rural farms to urban consumers would increase dietary diversity and improve nutrition security, an essential goal in Ethiopia’s food system transformation strategy.
Beyond agriculture, road access opens the door to unlocking Gindabarat’s underexplored natural resources. Reports of natural gas indicators, precious stones, and ecotourism sites like the Yaddii hot spring suggest the district could be a hub of diversified rural enterprise. Its proximity to Addis Abeba and its geographic linkage to Wollega and the Amhara region via the Blue Nile Gorge positions Gindabarat as a potential gateway for trade and cross-regional collaboration. However, without a functional all-weather road, this promise remains untapped.
This op-ed is not just a policy argument from me, but also a plea from those who have lived the consequences of disconnection. Thirty years ago, I walked 103 kilometers barefoot to take a photograph required for the national university entrance exam. Farmers have returned home with unsold produce and are unable to find buyers. And voices like that of Guddataa have echoed the same call for years, recognizing that roads are not just infrastructure, but a gateway to economic modernization. The people of Gindabarat are not asking for charity; they are asking for a road link to markets, services, opportunity, and dignity. It is time for regional and federal leaders to respond, not just with promises, but with pavement. Connecting Gindabarat is not only about mobility, but also about justice, resilience, and shared growth. AS
Editor’s Note: Teshome Hunduma (PhD) is Senior Advisor for Biodiversity and Sustainable Food Systems at the Norwegian Forum for Development and Environment (ForUM). He can be reached at teshome@forumfor.no. The views expressed in this article are his own and do not necessarily reflect those of ForUM.