by Ghidewon Abay Asmerom
Sixty-five years ago, a handful of Eritreans made a decision that, by every practical measure, seemed impossible. They had no state behind them, no army, no secure supply line, no great-power patron, and scarcely enough weapons for the men who had volunteered to fight. Opposite them stood the armed power of Ethiopia, a state with an established military, police forces, administrative machinery, and international recognition. Yet on 1 September 1961, Hamid Idris Awate and a small band of companions chose to cross the line separating political resistance from armed revolution.
That decision did not arise suddenly. It was the culmination of years of political frustration, clandestine organization, failed appeals, diaspora mobilization, military preparation, and a growing conviction that Eritrea’s future could no longer be secured through petitions and constitutional argument alone.
What began with scattered political cells in 1958 became an organized liberation front in 1960, an armed uprising in 1961, and ultimately a thirty-year war that ended with the liberation of Eritrea in 1991.
From Haraka to the Eritrean Liberation Front
The immediate organizational roots of the armed struggle can be traced to 2 November 1958, when a small group of Eritreans gathered at the home of Mohammed Saeed Nawud in Port Sudan and established the Eritrean Liberation Movement, known in Arabic as Harakat al-Tahrir al-Eritriya and popularly as Haraka. Its first organizational nucleus was the seven-member cell known as Mahber Shewate, the Association of Seven.
The significance of Haraka lay not simply in its existence but in what it attempted to overcome. Eritrean politics had been fractured during the preceding decade by competing visions of the country’s future, regional divisions, religious suspicions, and the bitter struggles surrounding federation with Ethiopia. Haraka sought to move beyond those divisions and build a clandestine national movement embracing Eritreans from the highlands and lowlands, Muslims and Christians alike. Its cells spread rapidly through Eritrea, Sudan, Egypt, Saudi Arabia, and Ethiopia.
The timing was critical. The federal arrangement between Eritrea and Ethiopia was being steadily eroded. Institutions guaranteed under the federation were weakened, Eritrean political autonomy was increasingly restricted, and many nationalists came to believe that the constitutional struggle of the 1950s had been exhausted.
The contrast with the rest of Africa was striking. Across the continent, colonial empires were retreating and new African states were entering independence. Eritrea, however, appeared to be moving in the opposite direction.
The question confronting Eritrean nationalists therefore became increasingly stark: if constitutional politics could not protect Eritrea’s rights, what remained?
Part of the answer began taking shape in Cairo. A substantial Eritrean student community had developed in Egypt during the 1950s. Among its politically active figures was Saeed Hussein, who, with several colleagues, secretly discussed the possibility of armed resistance. They called themselves Himayat al-Watan — “Defenders of the Homeland.”
Although these students maintained contacts with Haraka, they increasingly sought direct cooperation with experienced Eritrean political leaders. Through Mohammed Adem (Gesir), they established contact with Ibrahim Sultan and Idris Mohammed Adem, the former president of the Eritrean Assembly, both of whom had secretly left Eritrea in March 1959 and eventually reached Cairo.
Attempts were made to overcome the political divisions of the preceding decade and bring Ibrahim Sultan, Woldeab Woldemariam, and Idris Mohammed Adem into a common leadership. Those attempts did not fully succeed. Yet a new political alignment emerged around Idris Mohammed Adem and the younger activists who had concluded that the struggle had entered another phase.
On 10 July 1960, after repeated meetings and discussions, they gathered at Hadiqat al-Samak in Cairo. There they made the decisive organizational choice: Eritrea needed an organization committed explicitly to armed struggle. The Eritrean Liberation Front — Jebhat Tahrir Eritrea (ELF) — was established, with Idris Mohammed Adem chosen as chairman of its Central Committee. The political movement had acquired a military objective. An Eritrean cyclist in Kassala, Beyene Michael Tedla, was asked to translate the organization’s name into Tigrinya. He rendered the Arabic word Jebha, literally “Front,” with the Tigrinya word Tegadlo, meaning “struggle,” or “front” and translated the organization’s name as Tegadlo Harnet Eritrea. From that time onward, Tegadlo continued to be treated as the Tigrinya equivalent of Jebha and the word gave the terms “tegadalay” (male freedom fighter), “tegadalit” (female freedom fighter), “tegadelti” (freedom fighters).
Preparing for a War No One Was Ready to Fund
Declaring an armed struggle was one thing. Starting one was another. The ELF possessed neither a conventional army nor sufficient weapons. Foreign governments offered sympathy more readily than rifles. Toward the end of 1960, Idris Mohammed Adem and Ibrahim Sultan traveled to Saudi Arabia seeking assistance. They returned largely empty-handed, receiving little beyond the advice to take Eritrea’s case to the United Nations.
Idris later returned to Saudi Arabia, where he met Osman Saleh Sabbe. The two agreed to cooperate. In January 1961, they traveled to Mogadishu and met Somali Prime Minister Abdirashid Sharmarke. The following month, the Eritrean-Somali Friendship Association was established. Somalia also provided Eritrean representatives with diplomatic travel documents, giving the emerging movement an important international opening.
But diplomacy alone could not start a revolution. A second force was already preparing on the Sudanese side of the border: Eritrean soldiers serving in the Sudanese army. Many had accumulated years of military experience. Sudanese independence had also forced them to confront an obvious question: if Sudan could become independent, why not Eritrea?
Men such as Tahir Salim Ezaz, Omer Ezaz, Babikir Mohammed Idris, Mohammed Saad Adem, Adem Gindifil, and Mohammed Idris Haji began recruiting, gathering ammunition, and using their leave to travel through Tesseney, Agordat, Keren, and Asmara, establishing underground contacts and explaining the objectives of the ELF.
Their conviction was increasingly uncompromising: political appeals had reached their limit. In their words, “the solution could come only from the barrel of the gun.”
Yet even they understood that a revolution required more than military enthusiasm. It needed someone inside Eritrea who knew the terrain, commanded respect, possessed military experience, understood clandestine warfare, and had the courage to act before the organization possessed anything resembling conventional military strength. Attention turned toward Seydina Mohammed Sheikh Dawud son of the revered Seydina Mustofa and, increasingly, toward Hamid Idris Awate.
The Man Who Could Begin It
Hamid Idris Awate was no inexperienced adventurer. Born around 1915 at Habarada, he had acquired extensive military experience during the Italian colonial period. He trained at Dupzito in Asmara in 1935, served in Banda Cavallo, Battaglione Manovre 27, participated in operations associated with Adwa and Adi Remets, and rose from Muntaz to Bulukbash. Wounded at Amora-Gedel, he was later transferred to the Carabinieri. He traveled to Italy in 1937, served in Agordat and Kassala, and spoke Arabic, Nara, Tigre, Tigrinya, Amharic, and Italian.
Stories about his marksmanship became legendary. He was remembered as a man who could sever a thread with a bullet and as an exceptionally accomplished horseman and camel rider. More important than legend, however, was judgment. Hamid understood weapons, terrain, mobility, intelligence, and survival. He also understood how badly the odds were stacked against anyone attempting to challenge the Ethiopian state with a handful of rifles. Indeed, he had contemplated armed resistance years earlier.
In 1956–1957, Hamid reportedly told Idris Mohammed Adem in Agordat that he was prepared to take up arms against Ethiopia. According to Alemseged Tesfai, Idris warned him: “They will eliminate you before you even get started.” Hamid deferred.
A second approach came in early 1960, when Adem Gindifil, Mohammed Idris Kelbay, Hamid Ibrahim Tembar, and Abdella Digol came from Sudan and asked whether he intended to begin a revolution. Hamid dismissed romantic notions that a war could be started carelessly with one or two rifles. Before sending them away, he told them: “You did not see me, and I did not see you.”
That response reveals something important about Hamid. He was willing to fight, but he understood that courage without preparation could merely produce a quick death. By 1961, however, conditions had changed.
At a clandestine meeting in Agordat in April 1961, Hamid met figures involved in preparations for armed struggle, including representatives connected with Sheikh Mohammed Sheikh Dawud. Hamid accepted the responsibility being placed before him.
His conception of the task was already geographically ambitious. He reportedly told Sheikh Mohammed Dawud:
“I can cover the areas of Gash, Setit, and Barka as far as Sahel and Anseba. The areas I do not know are the highlands and the eastern regions. Therefore, you must look for people who know those areas and who are capable of organizing there.”
That was not the language of a man contemplating an isolated raid. It was the thinking of someone envisioning the geographical expansion of a national insurgency.
The Point of No Return
The authorities were also watching. By the summer of 1961, contacts with Hamid became increasingly tense. General Tedla Uqbit, commander of the Eritrean police, sought a meeting with him, ostensibly concerning an earlier request Hamid had made for weapons. On 31 July 1961, the administrator of Tesseney told Hamid that Tedla wanted to speak with him. Hamid refused.
On 2 August, he met Omer Hassano, administrator of Barka Province, at Gerset and again made clear that he did not intend to meet Tedla Uqbit. Nevertheless, a meeting was arranged for 15 September 1961 in Agordat. Hamid increasingly believed that the government intended to neutralize him before he could act. Waiting was becoming more dangerous than rebellion.
On 17 August 1961, he took his Abu-Ashara rifle and left civilian life behind. At first there were only a few men: Abdu Mohammed Faid, Shingray Amar, Saleh Kruchay, and Humed Duhein. Others, including Awate Mohammed Faid, Ibrahim Mohammed Ali, and Saleh Haji Haidan, joined them at Hademdemi.
Their arsenal was painfully small: a few old rifles, a broken Mannlicher, a double-barreled firearm, and limited ammunition. Measured against the military resources of the state they were challenging, it was almost nothing. Measured against the determination required to begin a national revolution, it was enough.
September 1, 1961: A Revolution Is Declared
On 1 September 1961, Hamid Idris Awate and his companions gathered at Hademdemi. They purchased provisions from a local shop. Then Hamid fired his weapon into the air. It was not yet the Battle of Adal. The distinction matters. Research based on contemporary accounts places the armed confrontation at Adal later, on 26 September 1961; September 1 marked Hamid’s formal break with civilian life and his declaration that the armed struggle had begun. The act itself was simple. Its implications were enormous. A few men with a few rifles had declared war on an established state.
There was no certainty that others would follow. There was no guarantee that weapons would arrive. There was no assurance that neighboring countries would support them. There was every possibility that the entire group would be surrounded, captured, and eliminated within days.
The authorities immediately began hunting them. Informers tracked their movements through Gash-Setit and Barka. At Balkay, an informer reported Hamid’s location to Major Gebrekidan Tesfay, prompting an operation to surround him. Kidane Hidad and Mohammed Suleiman Ekud warned Hamid that he was encircled, cut communications toward Tesseney, and helped divert the pursuing force.
The revolution survived its first days. That alone mattered.
September 26: The First Battle at Mount Adal
On 26 September 1961, the declaration became an armed confrontation. At Mount Adal, Hamid Idris Awate and his small group faced government forces in what the historical account used here identifies as the first battle of the Eritrean armed struggle.
The military imbalance could hardly have been more dramatic. The insurgents possessed only a handful of weapons and virtually no logistical infrastructure. Their adversary belonged to the security apparatus of a state whose military power was overwhelmingly superior. Yet Adal demonstrated something that no proclamation could establish.
The revolution existed. It could fight. And it had survived long enough to confront the forces sent to destroy it.
The battle also produced the first painful evidence of what the struggle would demand. Beregh Noray became the first fighter taken prisoner on 26 September 1961. The armed struggle was barely weeks old, and it already had its first prisoner.
October 24, 1961: The First Martyr
Less than a month later came another threshold. On 24 October 1961, government forces engaged Hamid’s group in the Keru-Omal area. The fighters had been betrayed while resting. In the darkness, police began closing around them. Once the encirclement was detected, Hamid and his companions scrambled for defensive positions as gunfire erupted. Abdu Mohammed Faiad was struck. He later died from his wounds while being taken toward Keru. He became the first martyr of the Eritrean armed revolution.
The symbolism was profound. What had begun on September 1 as a declaration and had become open combat at Adal now demanded its first life. Abdu Mohammed Faiad would be followed by tens of thousands. The revolution was acquiring not only fighters and battles, but prisoners, wounded, dead, memories, and sacrifice. The war was becoming irreversible.
Further engagements followed: Qabat on 3 December 1961, and Awaha al-Gedam on 9 January 1962. At Awaha al-Gedam, Ibrahim Mohammed Shendi was killed, while Saleh Mohammed Hassan, Osman Idris Haji, and Musa Mohammed Musa were captured. Hamid himself was wounded. Still the movement survived.
Hamid’s Last Months
By early 1962, new fighters were beginning to arrive, including Eritreans with professional military experience from the Sudanese army. The tiny band that had walked into the countryside with a few rifles was beginning to acquire the rudiments of an organized guerrilla force.
Hamid reorganized the fighters and sought to place experienced soldiers in command positions. But he would not live to see what the movement became.
On 27 May 1962, Hamid became seriously ill. On the following day, 28 May 1962, he died. His companions buried him secretly, and his death was initially concealed because the young movement feared the consequences that news of the loss of its founding field commander might have on morale. Sources consistently place his death on May 28, although details surrounding his final illness vary.
Hamid had led the armed struggle for less than nine months. But history does not always measure leadership by duration. Sometimes it measures it by the distance between what appears possible and what someone has the courage to attempt.
The Visionary Who Fired Before Victory Was Visible
It is easy, sixty-five years later, to look backward from Eritrean independence and imagine that September 1 inevitably led to May 1991. Nothing could be further from the reality those first fighters confronted.
Hamid Idris Awate did not know that the struggle would last thirty years. He did not know that armies of thousands would one day emerge from the handful that followed him. He did not know that battles such as Nakfa, Afabet, Massawa, and the final campaigns of 1991 lay decades in the future.
He could not know that the army he challenged would ultimately be defeated. What he knew was much simpler and much harder: someone had to begin. That is what made the decision of September 1961 visionary.
Vision is not merely the ability to predict the future. It is the capacity to act for a future that does not yet exist.
Hamid saw an Eritrea that had no army of its own and acted as though one could be built. He saw a people without a sovereign state and acted as though sovereignty could be recovered. He stood before an adversary vastly superior in weapons, manpower, money, organization, and international standing—and nevertheless concluded that submission was not the only option.
That required more than marksmanship. It required imagination. It required political judgment. And above all, it required courage.
The first fighters possessed few rifles, but they carried an idea far larger than their numbers: that Eritreans themselves could determine Eritrea’s future.
The road from Haraka in 1958, to the Eritrean Liberation Front in 1960, to September 1, 1961, was therefore not a series of disconnected episodes. It was a progression—from political awakening, to clandestine organization, to military preparation, to irreversible action.
September 1 was the point at which an argument became a revolution. At Adal on September 26, the revolution faced its first battlefield test. Beregh Noray became its first captured fighter. On October 24, Abdu Mohammed Faiad became its first martyr. On 28 May 1962, the revolution lost the man who had dared to begin it. But it did not lose the idea.
Hamid Idris Awate died before the first anniversary of the struggle he had launched. The revolution continued for another twenty-nine years. It survived internal crises, enormous military offensives, scarcity, isolation, and staggering human sacrifice. In May 1991, thirty years after those first shots, Eritrean forces finally entered Asmara and the Ethiopian army was defeated.
The distance between eight men with a few rifles in 1961 and the liberation of an entire country in 1991 is what gives September 1 its enduring historical power.
The first shot did not liberate Eritrea. It did something without which liberation could never have occurred: it declared that Eritreans were prepared to attempt the seemingly impossible—and then accept the price required to make it possible.
That was Hamid Idris Awate’s daring wager on the future. Thirty years later, history delivered its verdict. Eritrea was liberated.
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