Justice deferred: The human cost of Ethiopia’s overcrowded prisons  – The Reporter 

Society Justice Deferred: The Human Cost of Ethiopia’s Overcrowded Prisons

By Samuel Abate

June 14, 2025

Families bear the quiet burden of a broken system

Aster Tilahun was born in the rural kebele of Goshe Bado, a rugged outpost nestled in the highlands some 130 kilometers northeast of Addis Ababa. From a young age, she harbored dreams that reached beyond the corrugated rooftops of her childhood—dreams of white coats, lecture halls, and saving lives as a doctor.

Determined to chase that future, Aster moved to the nearby town of Debre Birhan to pursue her education. Her family, poor farmers struggling to make ends meet, sent her weekly bundles of food to sustain her while she finished high school.

But aspirations alone weren’t enough.

Her exam results fell short of the requirements for university or public employment. Undeterred, she enrolled at a private technical and vocational college in Debre Birhan, hoping a diploma would open doors. It didn’t.

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Faced with growing hardship and mounting disappointment, she became a day laborer at local construction sites. It was grueling work—and temporary. She made plans to return home. Then, something changed.

She met Moges, a plumber. Their acquaintance turned into companionship, and in time, love. They married.

From The Reporter Magazine

After the wedding, Aster left the construction sites behind. With a modest investment—savings scraped together and a helping hand from Moges—she began selling fruits and vegetables on a roadside near their rented home. The work was humble, but steady.

Compared toher previous job, she says this was a relief. “I felt more secure, stable.”

Two years into their marriage, Aster gave birth to their first son. The young family began to find its rhythm. Money was still tight, but life had found a sure symmetry. She was pregnant again.

From The Reporter Magazine

Then, without warning, it all unraveled.

Aster had been preparing to surprise her husband with news of the pregnancy when she heard Moges had been arrested. At the local police station, she was told there had been a workplace dispute—an altercation that left another man with a broken tooth. Despite Aster’s efforts to mediate, Moges was charged with assault and sentenced to nine months in prison.

The arrest was not just a legal blow—it was a financial and emotional one. Pregnant and now the sole caregiver for their toddler, Aster found herself trying to hold together a life fraying at every edge. Her small fruit stall was barely enough to cover rent and food. The absence of Moges left more than just a silence at home—it cast doubt over everything she had built.

Not long ago, Aster praised her good fortune: “My life is settled, my house is complete,” she would say.

Now, those words feel like echoes from another life.

“I don’t know how I’ll get through even one month without him,” she said. “Nine feels impossible.”

Aster Tilahun’s story is not unusual in Ethiopia’s fast-changing social landscape—where dreams, once born of ambition, often collide with economic realities and legal uncertainties.

A Quiet Sacrifice

Another woman, who asked not to be named for fear of reprisal, says the consequences of imprisonment stretch far beyond the prison walls. She shared a story that mirrors Aster’s—marked by quiet endurance and unseen sacrifices.

Her husband is currently being held at Kaliti Prison in Addis Ababa. He previously served two years in connection with the conflict in Ethiopia’s Amhara region and was re-detained without formal charges. The ambiguity surrounding his case has cast a long shadow over their household.

During her visits, she noticed the food served at the prison was not only inadequate—but potentially harmful. She was struck by how daunting he looked.

Determined to protect him, she began preparing food at home and delivering it three times a week. At first, he resisted. “He didn’t want to be a burden,” she said. But eventually, he relented—his health visibly deteriorating. After her deliveries began, his condition began to improve.

What he doesn’t know is the price she paid.

To cover the cost of regular food deliveries and support their two children, she quit her job. She rented out their modest home and moved in with relatives. She has kept it all from him, not wanting to deepen his anxiety.

“The fact that my husband has not yet been formally charged, that I believe he’s innocent, and not knowing how long he’ll remain in prison—all of this makes me anxious about how we will rebuild our lives,” she said.

Her story is not isolated. In Ethiopia, where prison overcrowding and prolonged pretrial detentions are common, families often become silent casualties of the justice system.

A System under Pressure

Ethiopia’s prison system is groaning under the weight of a growing inmate population and dwindling resources.

A recent study by the Federal Law and Justice Institute—tasked with legal research and justice reform—found that basic services inside prisons are dangerously overstretched. According to Deputy Director General Mitiku Mada, many inmates rely on their families for essentials like food and hygiene supplies.

“The increasing number of inmates, and the growing demand for resources have led to severe shortages in both food and accommodation,” said Mitiku Mada, Deputy Director General of the institute. “Basic needs are going unmet.”

The study found that many prisoners now rely on food brought in by family members—often at significant personal sacrifice—because state-provided meals are insufficient or nutritionally poor.

To address these shortfalls, the institute has proposed a shift in strategy: less incarceration, more alternatives. For nonviolent and short-term offenders, community service and other restorative justice measures are proposed.

Mitiku belives that while prisoners must be held accountable under the law, not all are best served by incarceration. “There are productive citizens in prison who could be contributing to society in other ways.”

Proposals include community service, public sanitation work, and other forms of restorative justice.

The Ministry of Justice appears to be listening. State Minister Belayhun Yirga confirmed that the government is working with the Prisons Commission to expand the use of alternative sentencing. A new policy framework is under development, though Belayhun declined to provide a timeline for implementation.

“Adjustments have been made to increase the daily food allowance for prisoners,” he said. “But the underlying structural problems remain. This is not something that can be solved with a single policy tweak.”

Addressing the multifaceted challenges within the correctional system and impacting the incarcerated population necessitates a comprehensive, multi-pronged approach beyond the scope of a singular policy adjustment.

Currently, federal inmates receive a daily food allowance of just 35 birr—about $0.26. In regional prisons, the amount varies widely: 100 birr in the Somali region, 55 birr in Amhara, and 46.60 birr in Oromia.

According to the United Nations Office on Drugs and Crime, Ethiopia’s prison population exceeds 120,000, or about 99 per 100,000 people. Women account for roughly four percent. The country has 126 prisons—six managed federally and the rest by regional authorities.

For many inmates, justice moves slowly. For their families, life on the outside is just as unforgiving.