by Mebrak Ghebreweldi
8th of March 2026
A reflection and call for renewal on International Women’s Day 2026
Every nation has moments in history when ordinary people rise with extraordinary courage. In Eritrea, that courage was carried not only by those who held rifles on the front lines, but also by mothers, daughters, and grandmothers whose strength held families together and sustained a national struggle for freedom. On this International Women’s Day, the eighth of March, it is time to remember that legacy and renew our commitment to it.
The Quiet Strength of an Eritrean Mother
When I think about strength, leadership, sacrifice, and hope, the first person who comes to my mind is my mother.
My mother Adey Hana kept our family together. She kept our community intact. In her quiet but powerful way she helped keep the spirit of the freedom movement alive. She was the source of everything in our home. She provided food when food was scarce. She provided emotional strength when the future was uncertain. She carried the weight of responsibility for the family while nurturing hope for tomorrow.
As a child, I knew that my mother was important to us, but I did not fully understand that she was also important to the wider community and, in many ways, to the country itself. She made sure everything in the household continued to function. She organised the family economy. She maintained relationships between neighbours and relatives. She ensured that the values of dignity, discipline, and responsibility were passed on to us. We learned what is (Newri) from a very early age.
Behind the scenes she was one of the most powerful people in our lives.
Before my father passed away, he gathered all of us, his children, and said something that has stayed with me all my life. He said, “If it were not for your mother, none of you would be who you are today.”
Those words carried the deep truth of our family. My father understood the quiet strength that held our home together. He recognised that behind every opportunity we had in life stood the dedication, wisdom, and sacrifice of our mother.
Today both of my parents are gone. They have returned to their Creator. But their example remains alive in us. When I think about the strength of Eritrean mothers, I think of my own mother. When I think about the wisdom of recognising that strength, I remember my father’s words.
Their legacy is not only our family story. It reflects the story of countless Eritrean mothers whose strength shaped the character of a nation.
Now, as a woman in my sixties, I look back and see more clearly the quiet wisdom with which my mother managed our family. When we children asked her for something, perhaps a pen, a pencil, or a simple pair of plastic sandals to go to school, she would say, ask your father.
At the time we thought this meant our father was the one making the decisions. But when we went to our father, he would say, ask your mother. Then he would call out, Hana, do we have the money to buy the child a pen or sandals for school? My mother would look at us with a gentle smile, sometimes with a look that said we must wait until the next sale of potatoes or butter. In this way she empowered our father publicly while quietly managing the family economy. She preserved harmony in the household while ensuring that decisions were made carefully and responsibly. She carried authority without displaying it.
This was the strength of Eritrean mothers.
The Mothers Who Raised a Generation of Freedom Fighters
Our mothers were the true pillars of the Eritrean family. They were the leaders who raised a generation of young men and women who later became freedom fighters. They raised children who were willing to sacrifice everything for dignity and independence.
Without the Eritrean mother, there would have been no generation of freedom fighters.
I am one of the two thousand girls who were trained at Bliqat in 1978 during one of the most difficult periods of the Eritrean struggle for independence. At that time Ethiopia, heavily supported by the Soviet Union, had just fought and won a major war with Somalia. After that war Eritrea became their next target.
The Ethiopian army launched a massive military campaign to crush the Eritrean liberation movement. It was a time when the Eritrean People’s Liberation Front had to make a strategic withdrawal from towns and cities that had been previously liberated. Fighters withdrew from areas close to Asmara, even from trenches only a few kilometres from the capital city.
Many outsiders believed the Eritrean struggle would collapse. Instead, the opposite happened.
It was during this time that the determination of the Eritrean people shone brightest. Thousands of young men and women joined the struggle. Among them were the two thousand teenage girls who became known as Cambodia. We were trained physically, politically, and militarily to become fighters for freedom.
But one important question must always be asked. How did so many young women join the liberation struggle at a time when the movement was making a strategic withdrawal into the harsh mountains and deserts of Sahel?
The answer lies with our mothers. Our mother had enough with watching their children murdered, their husbands and themselves tortured and their independence dined by superpowers of that time.
It was the Eritrean mother who nurtured courage. It was the Eritrean mother who blessed her children and sent them to fight for justice and dignity. She did not do this lightly. She did this because she believed that freedom was worth sacrifice.
But when we speak about the role of Eritrean women in the struggle, we must tell the full truth. Women did not only fight with guns. The history of Eritrea’s independence is also written in the hidden courage of thousands of women who worked quietly, often under the nose of the enemy, risking their lives every day.
Some women cleaned the houses of wealthy families in Middle Eastern, European and American cities including cities controlled by the Ethiopian army. They scrubbed floors, washed clothes, and cooked meals while silently gathering information about troop movements and military activities. That information found its way to the freedom fighters.
Some women worked in factories or markets, earning small amounts of money that they secretly sent to support the struggle. Others sold vegetables, butter, and grain while quietly passing messages between underground networks.
Many women lived double lives. To the outside world they appeared to be ordinary mothers and housewives. But behind closed doors they were part of the hidden backbone of the liberation movement.
Inside their homes some women hid wounded freedom fighters beneath their beds or behind cupboards. Others dug hidden spaces underground inside their houses to shelter fighters escaping enemy patrols. They cleaned wounds, provided food and water, and protected those fighters with their own lives.
If the enemy had discovered them the punishment would have been imprisonment, torture, or death. Yet thousands of Eritrean women accepted that risk without hesitation.
They provided shelter.
They carried messages.
They delivered medicine.
They passed information.
They raised funds.
They protected fighters.
Without these women the armed struggle could not have survived.
When we say that women made up more than thirty three percent of the front-line fighters, we must also remember the many thousands more who fought in invisible ways. Their battlefield was inside the cities, the villages, the markets, and the homes.
They fought without uniforms. They fought without silently They fought expecting freedom nothing else.
Eritrean women were not simply supporters of the struggle. They were half of the nation that fought for independence.
Qnat: The Strength Tied Around the Waist of a Nation
There is a powerful symbol that represents the resilience and determination of Eritrean women. It is called Qnat (ቅናት).
Qnat is a long piece of cotton cloth that women traditionally tie tightly around their waist. It supports the body during hard work such as farming, grinding grain, carrying water, gathering firewood, or carrying a child on the back. It is somewhat comparable to the English word “belt,” but the translation fails to capture its full meaning and cultural depth.
Qnat is more than a piece of cloth. It is a metaphor for resilience, determination, and discipline. When life becomes difficult Eritrean women tighten their Qnat and continue working. To tighten one’s qnat is to prepare for action with resolve and courage, to steady oneself for the demands of struggle. To loosen the qnat (ምፍታሕ ቅናት) signifies the opposite: surrendering, abandoning the task once begun.
During the years of national struggle, the entire Eritrean people metaphorically tightened their qnat, uniting with determination and discipline in pursuit of freedom. The legendary Eritrean artist, the Late Yemane Ghebremichael (Baria) captures this spirit powerfully in his song “ዕላማና” (Our Goal) with the verse:
“ዝመረረ ህይወት ናይ ባዕዲ ዘበናት
ምሂሩኒ ኢዩ ኣነ ኣይፈትሖን‘የ ቅናት”
In essence, the verse declares that “the bitter years of foreign occupation has taught me firmness and resolve, I will not loosen my qnat”. It is a poetic affirmation that hardship and oppression strengthened the determination to persevere rather than surrender.
Renewing the Qnat of Our Mothers
Today, however, that powerful legacy symbolized by the qnat confronts new challenges, testing whether the spirit that once bound the nation in struggle can continue to guide it forward.
Migration, globalization, consumer culture, and powerful media narratives are reshaping the dreams of younger generations. Many young people are told that success only exists somewhere else. They are told that life in the West is always better. In many diaspora communities’ families are becoming fragmented. Cultural values are weakening. The unity that once defined Eritrean communities is being tested by targeted disinformation.
If we are not careful the legacy of our mothers could slowly fade. That is why Eritrean women today have an important responsibility. The younger generation of Eritrean women must understand that they are the daughters of extraordinary mothers. They inherit a legacy of courage, sacrifice, and leadership.
Even the name of our capital city reminds us of this legacy. Asmara is believed to come from a phrase meaning the women united the communities. When the communities were divided it was the women who brought them together.
Women were the bridge builders. Women were the unifiers. That is our history. That is our strength and our beautiful self as a nation.
On this International Women’s Day let this moment be a renewal of commitment.
For those of us who survived the martyrdom, this day is a reminder of the young girls who never returned from Sahel. Many of our comrades gave their lives not only for national independence but also for the dignity and equality of Eritrean women. We must honor them not only with memory but with action.
For the younger generation this day must be a promise of continuity. A promise that the achievements of independence will not be forgotten. A promise that unity, dignity, and responsibility will guide the future.
I call on every Eritrean woman to take our mothers’ Qnat and tie it firmly around our waist. Let it remind us of our strength. Let it remind us of our responsibility. Wherever we live, in Eritrea or across the diaspora, let us protect the unity of our families. Strong families create strong communities. Strong communities create a strong nation.
Let the surviving freedom fighters renew their commitment to the ideals for which so many comrades men and women sacrificed their lives. Let the younger generation carry forward the torch that was handed to them. Let Eritrean women continue to be the bridge builders who unite communities, protect families, and guide the future with wisdom and courage.
Because we are the daughters of our mothers. And the strength of Eritrean women has always been the foundation of our nation.
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