Exposing the Lie: Honoring the True Fighters of Tigray's Struggle

In times of political transition and uncertainty, the easiest targets for revisionist narratives are the very individuals who sacrificed everything to protect the integrity, history, and future of their people. It is in this context that we must urgently respond to recent disinformation efforts—particularly a disturbing attempt by former Interim President of Tigray, Getachew Reda, to disparage one of Tigray’s most courageous daughters: Fetlewerk, known by her struggle name, Monjerino.

For anyone familiar with Tigray’s revolutionary past, Monjerino is not just a name—it is a symbol of resistance, resilience, and raw courage. At the tender age of 15, she joined the armed struggle against the fascist Derg regime, standing shoulder to shoulder with veterans who shaped the future of Tigray. She remained unwavering in her principles, her allegiance rooted deeply in the protection and liberation of her people.

It is therefore both tragic and absurd that a man like Getachew Reda—who enjoyed the privilege of office, luxury, and ultimately a political reward from Abiy Ahmed—would attempt to rewrite history and brand her a criminal. Calling her "ርእሰ-ሸፋቱ” ("head of the bandits") is not merely an insult to her legacy, but an affront to every fighter who stood for justice, truth, and the survival of Tigray during its darkest hours.

Let us be clear: Fetlewerk/Monjerino was not sitting in the comfort of leather chairs or sipping political cocktails while Tigray burned. She was on the ground, defending lives, including Getachew’s own, at a time when he had no military knowledge, no battlefield experience, and no courage to lead from the front.

Her only crime? Refusing to comply with betrayal. When Getachew’s actions began to align not with the will of the people but with the agenda of a regime that unleashed genocide upon Tigray, Monjerino stood her ground. She challenged the betrayal, confronted the rot, and paid the price—because that’s what principled fighters do. They fight until the last breath, not for applause or position, but for truth.

History cannot be rewritten with posts. Legacies are not erased by lies. And no matter how much perfume one sprays on betrayal, its stench lingers.

To those who try to sanitize the past and insult the very hands that shielded them during crisis—we say this: Every time you mislead, we will shine a light. Every time you attack truth, we will defend it.

Monjerino’s story, like those of countless unsung heroes of Tigray, belongs in museums, in textbooks, and in the hearts of a liberated people—not in the crosshairs of petty political vendettas.

We will remember. We will resist distortion. And we will honor those who stood tall when others knelt.