By: Abigia Abel
In Ethiopia today, justice is no longer a right—it is a product. It is bought and sold, bartered and bargained, smuggled like contraband across the corridors of power. As a teenager growing up in this reality, I see the truth every day: justice is not blind—it is bound and gagged. I dream of becoming a lawyer. Not just any lawyer, but one who fights for truth, dignity, and the rule of law. I want to be a judge—not a puppet behind a gavel, but a protector of the people, especially the poor, the voiceless, and the vulnerable.
Injustice is no longer hidden in shadows—it walks boldly in the streets. Many innocent people are illegally jailed for false or fabricated accusations. Some are detained simply because they spoke the truth, criticized power, or belonged to the fighting groups. They are taken without warrants, denied access to lawyers, and held without trial. Their families wait in pain and uncertainty, some never hearing from them again.
Meanwhile, across the nation, horrific crimes continue unchecked. Men and women are kidnapped and killed brutally, not in war, but in silence and their children are orphaned. Women and girls—mothers, sisters, daughters—are raped and are left behind no justice. These survivors, brave and broken, come forward crying for justice. Yet their voices are silenced, their cases buried, and their wounds ignored. Justice is not delayed for them—it is denied. Their pain is not acknowledged—it is erased. These are not rumors. These are not isolated incidents. These are the daily realities for too many Ethiopians living mostly outside the safety of the capital or under the threat of lawless violence. The cries of victims echo in empty courtrooms. Their names are forgotten, their rights erased.
I ask myself: what kind of country will we become if the law protects only the powerful, and punishes the powerless? If criminals walk free while the innocent are caged? If rape victims are shamed and silenced, while their abusers are shielded? If children grow up learning that truth is dangerous and justice is a myth?
I do not want to grow up learning how to survive in corruption—I want to grow up learning how to defeat it. I want my education to be a weapon for truth. I want to read the Constitution and believe in it. I want to walk into a courtroom and see justice served, not stolen. I want to be part of a new generation that says no more to impunity and yes to accountability.
Our country is bleeding not only from poverty and conflict, but from the death of trust in our institutions. Courts that should be sanctuaries of fairness have become auction houses for the powerful. Laws that should shield the weak are twisted into tools of oppression.
But I believe change is still possible. I believe that justice can be reclaimed—not through revenge or violence, but through truth, education, and courage. Ethiopia needs thousands of young dreamers like me to become lawyers with conscience, judges with integrity, and citizens with moral clarity. We need elders who guide, teachers who inspire, and leaders who listen. We need laws that are not just written, but lived. “Contraband justice” must be exposed, rejected, and replaced. True justice cannot be bought. It is earned through integrity, protected by law, and made real by people who care. Let this be my pledge: I will not run from the darkness—I will study, work, and rise to bring light. I will be part of the solution. Not someday. But starting now.
