The population of Asmera was on the verge declining before the fall of the Dergue. The affluent were leaving the city in droves to Addis Abeba, and abroad to escape the occasional bombardment by the besieging guerrillas, and the food blockade. Worried for their property some of them brought their kin from the countryside, and left the villas and servicio flats under their care. Except for the rumbling trucks, the city was eerily quiet. The few old Fiat cars were parked for lack of fuel. A few horse carts with a hastily made top were seen clip-clopping, transporting people for a fee. Most of the townsfolk had to walk.

After the Dergue�s military debacle, the situation reversed. The tens of thousands of fighters, who spent most of their adult life in the Sahel (occasionally called the Yenan of Eritrea) flocked to the city. Likewise the inhabitants who fled temporarily, and some former refugees returned. The custodians of the villas, and servicio rooms during the siege period were kindly told to leave. Few chose to live in the rural areas.

The housing shortage got worse, when the EPLF authorities announced a decree to return formerly nationalized houses to their owners. For years, a substantial number of the city dwellers had been living at kebele houses for a nominal rent, and some were even in arrears. Heedless of this, the decree was enforced. Some ruthless landlords were salivating for a kill, and exploited this condition by either asking for a steep rent or pressuring their tenants to leave. Distressed with this act, some priests were admonishing members of their congregation during Sunday sermons.

The inhabitants dire situation did not stop there. The cost of utilities such as electricity was increased beyond their means. When they complained, they were rudely dismissed by the then city mayor Sebhat Ephrem [now Minister of Defense], who said �were you not scavenging for food before our arrival?� He advised they leave to the villages they hailed from. The hypocrite could not even convince the thousands of peasant fighters, who were under his command in the past. Regimes that practice some sort of good governance would instead have established a commission, deliberate on the study made, and refrain from a hastily made decree.

The city�s burgeoning population�s appetite for all sorts of services was increasing. A casual walk in the shuk area was enough to witness it. The narrow streets in the quarter were often congested with pedestrians shopping on foot, and all kinds of vehicles such as arabias (wheel barrows), carts pulled by emaciated horses, old dilapidated taxis. To one enterprising demobilized fighter this was a golden opportunity niche.

The fighter brought a fleet of pedi-cabs (about three) from Italy (I think), with the financial support of his relatives, named his business with the politically correct name Sawa, and launched his service. You would think a micro-enterprise, owned by a former fighter, and named after the boot camp of the regime would make it. Economical, small, flexible, and affordable for both consumers, and small shop keepers, you often observe them negotiating the chaos of the traffic. You will be disappointed, like the white butterflies that fleetingly appear around the city�s landscape, the fleet soon disappeared. The authorities simply stole the business.

Not soon after, horse-carts were disallowed from the hauling business. A few were left to cater to business from the kebabi villages. The regime slyly approved the import of several scores of cheap pedi-cabs (bajajs) from India, for one its mass organization, the Association for the War Disabled. Another score of them were into the passenger transport business. The regime�s behavior was callous.

Contrast this with how the former emperor�s government handled a similar situation. Before the downtown area became off limits to the carosas, some of the operators had the option to operate taxi cabs. I remember many families with taxi operating businesses, who long after carried the carosa trade name.

The Eritrean artist Michael Yigzaw, had many pictures of Asmera inhabitants on bicycles. I remember vividly some of them exhibited at Cinema Odeon. If he were to be commissioned to repaint the city now, pedi-cabs of a different sort would be prominently present in the pictures. These are the red painted pedi-cabs named feres adey mariam (the praying mantis) by one leg-amputee veteran, with a sense of humor.

The bike riders in his paintings remind me of the old industrial Asmera. From almost all the four blocos of Asmera, hundreds of workers from the kebabi villages would pedal at dawn to the city, before the last sirens of the factories. At the end of the work day, they would park at enda sewa strategically located at the exit roads. One often sees their same sturdy bikes with large baskets cases, often laden with fodder for their livestock, such as the cactus fruit peels (keraf beles), and hatela, the local beer residue.

There were so many of them, that the government often required the operators to have a license plate on them. I remember a police officer visiting our high school to brief us on transport safety. According to him, there were close to 60,000 bikes in and around the metropolitan area. They were the life line of the city un until the mid 70s, before they were banned by the Dergue. Many of them were to remain parked on the rooftops of the houses, until they could be salvaged later. This story about pedi-cabs, and bikes will not be complete without describing the knife-sharpening micro-enterprise.

In the relatively rich neighborhoods of Asmera, one often observes a father and son operating a knife-sharpening contraption. I do not know, where the President�s kitchen knives and others get sharpened (may be in the dungeon for free!!) This device was basically a bike converted for knife-sharpening purposes. The bike has only one wheel, connected with a chain to a stone disk. The son pedals while sitting, and the Dad below uses the rotating stone disk to sharpen the knives.

They are mostly busy during the holiday seasons. The Dad could not do anything without the power generated by the biker son. The technology is backward compared to even the contraptions existing during the Middle Ages. The artisan in the Middle Ages, would pedal with his own feet, and operate the stone disk at the same time.

The latest war with Ethiopia, and the perpetual Sawa national service has deprived many micro-enterprises from able bodied people. Hundreds had to close for labor shortage, and other reasons. What could have happened to the knife-operating business, I often watched? Remember the multitude of small fagro businesses adjacent to roads, that made the metal doors and windows, for wood is scarce. Their fate could not be different. This is happening in a country that was at one time a hub for micro-enterprises.

Not long after the first Ethio-Eritrea war, the regime would often conduct a tour for the beguiled visitors to the medeber cottage industries. The visitors leave regaled, and optimistic about the future of the nation. Not to be left alone, with the approval of the regime, a university based team from America, led by a certain Yakob did a survey in the mid 90s on micro-enterprises. The study pointed out the existence of thousands of micro-enterprises allegedly unique to Africa.

Their linkage with the rural economy was nonetheless pointed out as weak by the study. In my opinion, they could not be different from the many establishments that operate on the fringe of other underdeveloped economies. Existing on the periphery, they recycle the industrial and city leftovers.

The study was conducted, when amazingly enough the PFDJ was concocting plans to go into business on a large scale. According to the study the term micro-enterprise applied only to establishments owned and run by one or two people. If the study team was to do another assessment now, most of the micro-enterprises in both medeber and outside would probably have vanished. On the other hand, the team should not be totally disillusioned, for they will discover many chewing gum, cigarette, and cleaning tissue ( called softie by local vendors) would be flourishing. Thanks to the war mongering regime, and the moral debauchery it nurtures, the percentage of female led micro-enterprises would have also increased hugely, and the liquor vending businesses (without mentioning the sex trade) would soar. The team would at end be consoled.

To those of you who fear the juggernaut economy of the Chinese on our small businesses, I say your anxiety is unfounded. The Chinese are not going to find anything to buy or operate. The PFDJ is even running grocery stores and, indirectly, the shoe-shining businesses. The little lustro (shoe-shining boys) we know have even disappeared. The chance of seeing a Chinese store owner like in a Senegal nowadays is very slim. This is good stuff for your patriotism.