MESKEL IN THE GURAGE HIGHLANDS: FIRE, FAITH, AND FINDING BELONGING

On September 27th, Ethiopia lights up with the holiday of Meskel a special day where faith and fire meet in a way that feels both ancient and alive. Recognized by UNESCO as an Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity, Meskel is a holy holiday celebrated by the Ethiopian Orthodox Tewahedo Church in remembrance of the 4th-century discovery of the True Cross by Emperor Constantine’s mother, Queen Helena, who was guided by the smoke of a bonfire she saw in a dream. Across the country, towering demera bonfires rise into the night sky, flames flickering in red and gold as chants and prayers echo through the air.

In Addis Ababa, thousands gather in Meskel Square in a dazzling display of tradition and devotion, but the most unforgettable way to experience it is far from the city lights, in the Gurage highlands of southern Ethiopia, where the celebration is not just a single day, but nearly a week.

Three days before Meskel: Termed Yesetoch Ken (Women’s day) or Gomen Kitfo Day, large koba (false banana) leaves are spread on yewedera (woven straw mats), and atop them sat gomen kitfo (collard greens mixed with spiced butter) and ibe (fresh, homemade crumbly white cheese). The smell was rich and comforting, reminding me of visits to my grandmother’s, and I was handed a makeshift koba bowl stuffed to the brim, a generous pour of kibe (spiced butter) glistening. Here, hospitality doesn’t wait for permission and is instead given freely, with joy.

Two days before Meskel: Town elders gathered in the home of the family we were staying with. Blessings were bestowed, their voices carrying weight and reverence before being sealed with a shared drink as a cow is taken to be butchered. Though solemn in the moment, the ritual is full of laughter, handshakes, and the quiet pride of tradition being passed forward.

Demera Night (Eve of Meskel): As the sun dips, the village comes alive with preparation. A magnificent pyre is already prepared, but young men carry extra branches and wood from the forest to add on for when the fire starts to go out. Children run around, more blessings are shared, and priests move among the crowd, guiding with zikr (religious chants) and mezmur (gospel music). Flames roar upward as the fire is lit and sparks leap into the dark sky, making faces glow in the firelight. We continue singing hymns and clapping, the sound of ululations piercing the night like joyful cries to the heavens. As the smoke rose, I watched elders study its drift, the sound of women’s voices full of praise as they sang and felt suspended in something larger than myself. Something eternal.

Meskel Day: The morning began with sounds from church rolling across the hills like waves. After prayers, the women return and prepare breakfast heaping taba bowls filled with Bula (false banana paste), orbs of fat from the kibe glistening like jewels on top of the

The days after: Meskel doesn’t end with the fire or the countless feasts. It continues to linger, each morning bringing new invitations and guests, and luck would have it that a family member had just gotten married, bringing their celebrations to us. More laughter, more dishes, and more joy is celebrated, making you feel as if it would never end. Adabina is the last day of Meskel celebrations, where only family is hosted. The final blessings to be carried throughout the year are given, and meat is boiled for kitfo as the final feast, and drinks are shared.

While I have celebrated many Gurage Meskels with my family, this was my first in the country and it won’t be my last. It taught me that the beauty of tradition is not in its preservation alone, but in its power to welcome others into it. I arrived as a visitor and left feeling like family.

For anyone seeking Ethiopia’s spirit in its purest form, the Gurage highlands during Meskel are not just a tourist destination but a cultural embrace. To stand by a demera as flames leap toward the stars, surrounded by laughter, song, and the generosity of people who make space for you in their Gojo Bets, is to know that you have found something rare: a place where fire not only burns but binds across generations both lived and to come.

What struck me most in the Gurage highlands was not just the grandeur of the fire or the abundance of food, but the intimacy of it all. Like family, friendship is also a sacred relationship that is honored here, and the importance of togetherness echoes throughout every interaction. Every gesture whether in passing or intentional is an invitation of belonging. Faith here is lived and community is not just a word or a trend people try to emulate, but a real, vital thing detrimental to the heartbeat of the Gurages.