Nineteen-year-old Nigus Yosef told his parents he was leaving their home in Ethiopia’s Tigray region for Saudi Arabia. They begged him not to go. Two siblings had already tried the same journey through Yemen: his brother ended up jailed there for illegal entry; his sister reached Saudi Arabia and now can’t leave.
On August 3, 2025, Nigus boarded a boat with five friends from Adi Qeyih. That night it capsized. Of nearly 200 people on board, only 56 survived. Nigus wasn’t among them. “His parents are in deep shock and grief,” his uncle, Redae Barhe, said by phone. “They can’t even voice their sorrow.” He is one of 132 still missing.
The risks do not end at sea. In Yemen, smugglers, militias, and kidnappers prey on migrants who arrive with few resources and no protection. In Addis Ababa, Senait Tadesse described how her 27-year-old daughter was abducted after reaching Yemen. Kidnappers contacted her on Facebook and demanded $6,000. Tadesse sold her car, jewelry—everything—then deposited the money into an Ethiopian bank account the kidnappers provided. They demanded more. She went to the police with the account number. Later, a survivor’s post confirmed her daughter had been killed. No arrests have followed.
Why take the risk? Ethiopia’s post-war reality remains harsh. Unemployment is high, local conflicts simmer, and opportunity feels out of reach—especially for young people. “Many young people no longer see a future for themselves,” said Yared Hailemariam, a human rights advocate in Addis Ababa. Nigus’s life tells that story in miniature: the Tigray war pushed him out of school in 7th grade; he joined local fighters; after the 2022 ceasefire, he came home and couldn’t find work.
Smuggling networks exploit that desperation, reaching deep into rural towns. Thirteen-year-old Eden Shumiye left Adi Qeyih with Nigus and his friends. Her parents say traffickers targeted her on a busy market day and convinced her to go. They heard nothing until a fellow traveler called from near the Ethiopia–Djibouti border. After the shipwreck, a relative of a survivor sent a voice message from Saudi Arabia confirming Eden’s body had been recovered. Of the six teenagers who left together, only two survived. “Her mother is heartbroken,” said her father, Shumiye Hadush. “The pain is truly overwhelming.”
The government has urged citizens “not to take the illegal route” and to avoid traffickers “at all cost,” encouraging legal migration instead. But that path is narrow. “Passports are hard to obtain due to rising costs,” noted migration scholar Girmachew Adugna. Legal avenues are slow and limited; the irregular route remains the only option many can access.
The numbers show the surge. More than 1.1 million Ethiopians lived abroad in 2024, up from roughly 200,000 in 2010, according to UN figures. Despite Yemen’s war, arrivals there nearly tripled—from 27,000 in 2021 to 90,000 last year—the International Organization for Migration says. The route is deadly: at least 1,860 people have died or disappeared, including 480 who drowned.
For families left behind, grief mixes with anger and fear. “Our youth are dying because of this dangerous migration,” Eden’s father said. “They fall victim to the cruelty of traffickers. When will this tragedy come to an end?”
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Associated Press writer Khaled Kazziha in Nairobi, Kenya contributed to this report.
