Society The Body Remembers
February 7, 2026
Old Fears Resurface in Tigray After New Clashes
Born and raised in Addis Ababa, Zeki arrived in Mekelle, the capital of the Tigray Regional State, just two days before reports emerged of fresh hostilities between Ethiopian federal troops and Tigrayan forces in Tsemlet, a disputed area in western Tigray also claimed by the neighboring Amhara region. The timing left him confronting a rush of conflicting emotions—fear, disbelief, and an unsettling sense of familiarity.
Zeki, who requested anonymity and asked to be identified by an assumed name for personal reasons, had traveled to Mekelle on January 26 for what was meant to be a routine five-day business trip, part of a monthly schedule he had maintained for some time. Before he could complete even half of his planned work, news broke that fighting had begun.
What followed, he said, was an internal struggle. One part of him feared the return of a full-scale conflict—one that could once again plunge Tigray into economic paralysis and social collapse. Another part felt an unexpected calm, shaped by the composure he observed among residents of the city.
To Zeki, the atmosphere in Mekelle was marked by a kind of haunting resilience. Many people, he said, appeared to have absorbed the threat of renewed violence into their daily lives, treating it as an extension of an already familiar reality. There was a widespread sense that little could be worse than the two-year war that devastated the region before the signing of a peace agreement in November 2023.
Yet beneath that surface calm, anxiety ran deep.
“The majority of the population was panicking,” Zeki said in an interview with The Reporter, describing scenes of residents rushing to stockpile food and basic supplies amid fears that the situation could rapidly deteriorate.
“I felt like I was in a place where whatever you do or think no longer makes sense,” he said. “I’m usually a calm and collected person, but those days weighed on me to the point where I nearly lost my balance. It was seeing the calmness of others that kept me going, holding on to the hope that I would make it back to my family in Addis.”
Zeki ultimately remained in Mekelle for seven days—two longer than planned—after transportation options became scarce and panic spread. The uncertainty, he said, was compounded by a growing fear that he might not be able to leave at all.
“I went there for a five-day trip and ended up staying an extra two days,” he said. “At one point, I genuinely feared I might be permanently separated from my family.”
The experience, he added, forced him to learn how to remain outwardly composed in the face of danger—though not without lasting psychological cost.
“I had already lived through the previous war in Tigray,” he said. “I saw how it began quietly and ended in prolonged suffering that continues to this day. That memory never leaves you.”
As fighting loomed, the scramble to leave the region drove transportation costs to staggering levels. According to Zeki, hundreds of travelers from Addis Ababa were forced to pay more than 50,000 Ethiopian birr for a seat out of Tigray on the very day news of the conflict emerged. Some, he said, paid as much as 70,000 birr to secure passage in vehicles operated by non-governmental organizations.
Zeki managed to pay less, he said, largely because of connections he had developed during his regular visits to Mekelle. Even so, the cost was steep.
“For people from the capital, the panic was worse,” he said. “I paid 10,000 birr to reach Samara in the Afar region by minibus, and another 11,000 birr afterward to finally get home.”
Zeki’s account is only one among many. But his experience captures the fragile reality confronting thousands of civilians in Tigray, where the shadow of renewed violence has revived old fears—and underscored how thin the line remains between peace and upheaval.
The fragile peace in northern Ethiopia appeared to fracture late last month as fighting erupted in the Tselemt district of western Tigray. The clashes, which intensified around January 29, involved forces aligned with the Tigray Defense Forces (TDF), reportedly seeking to reclaim territories currently administered by Amhara regional authorities.
Though limited in scope, the military maneuvering triggered immediate and far-reaching consequences. Commercial flights to Mekelle, Shire, and Axum were abruptly suspended, cutting off the region’s most reliable connection to the rest of the country and setting off a wave of anxiety across Tigray.
In Mekelle, residents rushed to banks to withdraw savings, fearful that the region could again slip into the near-total siege conditions that defined the 2020–2022 war. The sudden isolation reverberated quickly through daily life, transforming a security shock into an economic emergency.
With air travel—Tigray’s primary conduit for medicine and high-value goods—halted, and road access severely constrained, prices for food, fuel, and basic commodities surged to levels not seen in months. For a population still recovering from years of deprivation, the disruption felt ominously familiar.
International humanitarian agencies issued urgent warnings, cautioning that any sustained interruption of aid deliveries would be catastrophic. An estimated 80 percent of Tigray’s population remains dependent on humanitarian assistance—a reality that has amplified public fear and frustration.
For Girmay Berhe, a civil society activist, the developments reopened deep psychological wounds.
“This brought the trauma back,” he said, describing a resurgence of collective shock. “Cancelled flights, silent ATMs, and hushed conversations stir old ghosts. In such moments, the body remembers, and the heart tightens with a familiar dread,” he wrote in a social media post.
Political reactions quickly followed. The Tigray Interim Administration characterized the incursion as a demonstration that “a limited force could enter Tselemt.” Its president, Lt. Gen. Tadesse Werede, said the move was intended to protect civilians and assist displaced populations. Days later, he announced a strategic withdrawal from the area, framing it as a confidence-building measure.
The Tigray People’s Liberation Front (TPLF), meanwhile, accused the federal government of failing to uphold the Pretoria Peace Agreement. At the same time, rival political actors and federal officials blamed what they described as “power-hungry individuals” within the TPLF for pushing the region back toward instability.
International reaction was swift and alarmed.
Fearing that renewed fighting could unravel the 2022 peace deal and ignite a broader conflict, the United Nations secretary general, António Guterres, and the African Union issued urgent calls for restraint, emphasizing the need to preserve the fragile gains achieved since the ceasefire.
The United States and other Western partners echoed those concerns.
“The events of the past week are a reminder of the need for sustained commitment to peace,” US Ambassador Ervin Massinga wrote on social media. “It will take hard work and sober dialogue—but that is the best path to sustainability.”
After days of uncertainty, commercial flights to Tigray resumed on February 3, offering a measure of relief to residents and travelers alike, including Zeki and others seeking to return home or attend to personal affairs.
Seizing the brief opening, a father of three from Addis Ababa, who spoke to The Reporter on condition of anonymity, boarded the first available flight to attend a family wedding in Adigrat. But his relief was short-lived. Reports of fresh clashes in southern Tigray—this time between the TDF and a group calling itself the Tigray Peace Force—rekindled fears that flights could once again be suspended, potentially leaving him stranded.
“The news filled my family—both here in Adigrat and back in Addis—with fear,” he said. “I don’t know what will happen next. My only hope is that things calm down before something more tragic occurs.”
While the resumption of flights to Mekelle has restored a critical lifeline and eased the initial wave of transport-related extortion, the psychological and economic toll of the past week remains palpable. As international mediators urge restraint and “sober conversations,” the people of Tigray—like Zeki—find themselves suspended in a familiar and agonizing limbo, waiting to see whether this pause marks a return to lasting peace or merely a prelude to renewed hardship.