"I Am Engaged in an Important Work”
Nehemiah’s words—“I am engaged in an important work, and I am unable to come down. Why should the work come to a halt when I leave it to come down to you?”—carry a power that transcends time and place. They speak of a mission so vital, so consuming, that stepping away from it, even momentarily, feels unthinkable. These words are not just a declaration but a call to all who have ever labored under the weight of a cause that demands everything.
For the people of Tigray and those who stand in solidarity with them, this sentiment is not abstract. It is lived every day. It is the heartbeat of a struggle where everything is at stake—identity, dignity, survival. This work, this fight for Tigray, is not just about resisting oppression; it is about affirming the very existence of a people who refuse to be erased.
A Struggle Beyond Words
What does it mean to carry the weight of such a cause? It means waking up every day with the knowledge that the world might never fully see or understand the depth of what you are fighting for. It means holding on to hope even when everything around you feels like it is crumbling. It means speaking when your voice shakes, standing when your legs tremble, and refusing to bend under the crushing weight of injustice.
For Tigrayans, it includes a fight for land or resources but goes beyond it. It is a fight for the right to exist, to live without fear, and to preserve a culture and identity that stretches back a millennium. It is a fight for the voices silenced in massacres, for the children who died from hunger in a weaponized famine, and for the displaced who yearn to return to the soil that nurtured them.
It is a fight for history itself, for the churches and mosques burned to ash, for the monuments defaced, for the stories of a people that others have tried to erase. It is a fight for the ancestors who tilled the soil of Tigray, for the martyrs who gave their lives for its freedom, and for the unborn generations who deserve to inherit a homeland unshackled by genocidal war.
The Weight of Identity
For Tigrayans, identity is everything. It is not simply a label but a truth written into the soul. To say, “I am Tigraway” or "I am a Tigraweyti" is to speak of resilience, of history, of a connection to a land that has borne both joy and sorrow. It is to carry within you the legacy of a people who have endured conquest, famine, and betrayal but who have never lost their spirit.
This identity is not superficial—it runs deeper than blood, deeper than memory. It is in the songs sung in the highlands, in the prayers whispered in ancient churches, in the rhythm of the language that carries the wisdom of countless generations.
But this identity is under attack. The genocidal war on Tigray is not just a military campaign; it is an assault on identity itself. It is an attempt to silence the songs, to destroy the churches, to erase the history and culture of a people who refuse to disappear. Yet even in the face of this onslaught, Tigrayans hold fast to who they are.
A Work That Demands Everything
The work of fighting for Tigray is not one of convenience or choice. It is a necessity. It is a work that demands everything—time, energy, hope, and sometimes even life itself. For many, it is the cause they will never abandon, no matter the cost.
This work means advocating for the voiceless, bearing witness to the atrocities, and demanding justice in the face of silence and apathy.
It means standing firm when others dismiss your cause as distant or irrelevant. It means holding your ground when the world tells you to move on, to let go, to focus on something else. It means looking into the eyes of the suffering and promising them that their pain will not be ignored, that their stories will not vanish into the void.
This work is not easy. It is exhausting, heartbreaking, and often thankless. But it is necessary, because without it, the people of Tigray would be forgotten.
Resilience Amid Ruin
The resilience of Tigrayans is not born of privilege but of necessity. It is the resilience of a people who have endured weaponized famine and genocidal war and who have learned to find strength in their unity and identity. Even now, in the midst of one of the darkest chapters in Tigray’s history, this resilience shines through.
It is in the mothers who hold their children close, telling them stories of a brighter future. It is in the farmers who till the earth even when the harvest seems impossible. It is in the elders who remind the young of the wisdom of their ancestors. It is in the displaced who dream of returning home, and in the diaspora who carry Tigray in their hearts no matter how far they roam.
This resilience is a testament to the power of identity, to the strength of a people who refuse to be broken. It is a reminder that no amount of horrific violence or oppression can destroy the spirit of those who know who they are.
A Call to the World
The struggle for Tigray is not just a Tigrayan issue—it is a human issue. It is a test of the world’s willingness to stand up against genocide, to confront systemic oppression, and to demand accountability for crimes against humanity.
The world cannot look away. To ignore Tigray is to condone the destruction of a people and their culture. It is to send a message that some lives are worth less than others, that some histories can be erased without consequence.
But there is still time to act. There is still time to listen to the voices of the oppressed, to amplify their stories, to demand justice.
An Unfinished Work
The work for Tigray is not finished. It will not be finished until the displaced return home, until the hungry are fed, until the dead are honored, and until the oppressors are held accountable. It will not be finished until Tigray is free—not just from war but from the shadow of oppression that has loomed over it for too long.
This work will continue, carried forward by those who refuse to give up, by those who believe that justice is worth fighting for, and by those who know that Tigray’s story is far from over.
Like Nehemiah, we cannot come down from this work. It is too important, too urgent, too necessary. We press on, not for ourselves but for the generations yet to come, for the legacy of those who came before, and for the dignity of a people who will not be erased.
The walls of Tigray will be rebuilt—not just the physical walls but the walls of hope, dignity, and identity. And when they are, the world will know that this work was not in vain.
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