Ashenda Festival Cancelled in Tigray Over Drone Strike Fears

The braids will not be woven this year in Mekelle. The bright white cotton dresses will stay folded in cupboards, and the drums that usually call young women to dance in the open air will remain silent. The Ashenda festival, a three-day celebration of womanhood and the Virgin Mary that has for generations been the pride of Tigray, has been cancelled in the region's main city over fears that the gathering could become the target of drone strikes.

Ashenda's Silence Falls Over a City on Edge

Dakar, Senegal — The announcement came quietly, almost as a whisper against the thunder of recent explosions. Dori Asgedom, head of Tigray's culture and tourism bureau, confirmed what many had already feared: the mass gathering at Mekelle's stadium, the focal point of the festival that traditionally draws thousands of young women dressed in their finest, would not go ahead on Saturday. The reason was stark — "ongoing drone strikes and the threat of war." For a region still digging itself out of the rubble of a brutal two-year civil war that ended in 2022, the cancellation is more than a lost holiday. It is a signal that peace remains fragile, and that the skies above Tigray are no longer safe for celebration.

A Festival of Women, Grass, and the Virgin Mary

To understand what has been lost, one must understand what Ashenda means. The festival takes place each year as Orthodox Christians commemorate the Virgin Mary, and its name in Tigrinya translates to "the tall green grass" — a nod to the riverbanks where young women traditionally gather to pick the long, swaying reeds that give the celebration its name. It is a time of joy, of color, and of freedom. Girls and young women across Tigray and other parts of northern Ethiopia dress in elaborate white dresses, often embroidered with intricate patterns, and braid their hair in a special style reserved for this occasion alone. They dance, they sing, they play together in public — something that is traditionally frowned upon at other times of the year.

For the women of Tigray, Ashenda is not merely a religious observance. It is a rare moment of liberation, a cultural statement that celebrates their strength, their beauty, and their place in society. Mothers pass down the songs to their daughters. Grandmothers recall the festivals of their own youth. The event has grown beyond its religious roots into a wider cultural phenomenon, drawing visitors from across Ethiopia and beyond. It is eagerly anticipated, planned for months, and cherished for years. To cancel it is to cancel a piece of the region's soul.

The Drones That Brought the Silence

The fear that forced the cancellation is not abstract. It is written in the scars of recent days. On Thursday, a drone strike hit Mekelle itself, injuring 13 civilians and damaging homes, according to Tigray's communications affairs bureau. The attack came just two days after regional officials reported two strikes near Dandera, a town roughly 15 kilometers (nine miles) from Mekelle, on 18 August. That assault left one person dead and another injured. And on 10 August, a strike in the Raya-Alamata district killed three more people. Each incident adds to a grim tally that the regional administration says is the work of federal armed forces — an accusation the federal government has not responded to, despite a BBC request for comment.

The strikes have sown terror across the region. Families in Mekelle now sleep with one eye open, listening for the hum of drones that could bring death from above at any moment. Markets have thinned. Children are kept indoors. And now, the stadium that was to host thousands of dancing women stands empty, a monument to what fear has taken. Dori Asgedom did not mince words when announcing the cancellation. "The drone attack on innocent citizens in Mekelle city is an act that history will not forgive and should be condemned," he said. His words carry the weight of a people who have already endured too much.

A Region Still Healing From the Ashes of War

Tigray is not a region that can easily absorb more trauma. The civil war that ended in 2022 was catastrophic. The Tigray People's Liberation Front (TPLF) and the federal government signed a deal in November of that year, halting two years of fighting that is estimated to have left hundreds of thousands dead. The conflict was marked by atrocities on all sides — mass killings, sexual violence, starvation, and the deliberate destruction of infrastructure. Hospitals were bombed. Farms were burned. The region's economy, once among Ethiopia's most productive, was reduced to rubble.

Recovery has been slow and painful. The peace deal brought a fragile calm, but it did not bring justice, nor did it fully restore trust. The scars of war run deep in the soil and in the people. For many, the Ashenda festival was not just a celebration — it was a symbol of resilience, proof that life could return to normal, that joy could once again find a place in a land of grief. Its cancellation is a psychological blow, a reminder that the peace they were promised remains incomplete.

The Threat of a New Conflict

Political tensions this year have raised fears that the conflict could reignite. The TPLF, which had been sidelined under the terms of the peace deal, removed the interim administration that had been set up and reinstated its pre-war council. Both sides accuse each other of failing to implement the agreement. The federal government says the TPLF is not cooperating with disarmament and integration. The TPLF says the federal government is not providing the promised reconstruction funds and is stoking insecurity. The result is a dangerous standoff, with each side blaming the other for the drift toward chaos.

The drone strikes are the most visible sign of this breakdown. Regional authorities have been vocal in their accusations, pointing to the federal armed forces as the perpetrators. The federal government's silence on the matter only deepens the suspicion. In a statement reflecting on Thursday's attack, the Tigray regional administration called for the "international community to break their silence" and condemn what had happened, urging "urgent diplomatic action to prevent further escalation." The plea is desperate, but so far, the response from abroad has been muted. The world, it seems, has moved on from Tigray.

What the Cancellation Means for Tigray's Young Women

For the young women of Tigray, the cancellation of Ashenda is a personal loss. Many had spent weeks preparing their dresses, practicing their dances, and planning gatherings with friends. The festival was a chance to step out of the shadows, to be seen and celebrated in a society that often restricts their movement. It was a moment of collective joy, a shared identity that transcended the hardships of daily life. Now, that joy has been deferred indefinitely.

The psychological impact cannot be overstated. In a region where young people have already lost so much — years of schooling, family members, their sense of safety — the loss of this cultural touchstone is another wound. It tells them that their traditions are not safe, that their lives are not safe, that even the most innocent of gatherings can be turned into a target. The message is clear: in Tigray, there is no refuge from the conflict, not even in the arms of the Virgin Mary.

The International Community's Silence and the Road Ahead

The call for international intervention has grown louder, but the response so far has been muted. Tigray's regional administration has urged the "international community to break their silence" and take "urgent diplomatic action to prevent further escalation" — a plea that, days after Thursday's strike, has yet to draw the forceful public response the region is seeking. The 2022 peace agreement was brokered under African Union auspices, and both sides now accuse each other of failing to implement its terms. The people of Tigray are left to wonder: does anyone care if the war returns?

The road ahead is uncertain. The cancellation of Ashenda is a warning sign, a flare sent up from a region on the brink. If the drone strikes continue, if the political tensions are not resolved, the peace deal could collapse entirely. The cost would be catastrophic — not just for Tigray, but for all of Ethiopia and the wider Horn of Africa. The festival will return, perhaps next year, perhaps later. But for now, the tall green grass stands untrampled, and the songs of Ashenda are sung only in whispers, in homes, behind closed doors, where the drones cannot hear.

By Amara Diop, Staff Writer

This article was produced with AI-assisted research and editorial support. Sources: BBC News.