The sickening propaganda machine of the Prosperity Party (PP) regime has reached a new low—one that defeats description, but not scrutiny.
This Easter weekend, one of the holiest in the Ethiopian calendar, the Mayor of Finfinnee (Addis Ababa) and the Prime Minister himself embarked on a public relations roadshow. The show? Distributing cooking oil—and yes, even live lambs and chickens—to carefully selected residents, who are then promptly paraded on state media to express tearful gratitude for the ruling party’s “kindness.” One is left wondering: is there a lottery to decide who receives a lamb or chicken and who does not? Or is this reserved for the camera-ready few who can be trusted to say the right words?
The clip shows the Mayor, flanked by her entourage, at the door entering into a modest dwelling, holding a lamb by the horn—meant as a gift—alongside an assistant. It appears even the dwelling itself was gifted by the city administration. In the propaganda footage, one particularly animated elderly man, nearly breathless, proclaims with fervor:
“I’ve lived through the Haile Selassie era, the Derg, and the EPRDF. But this government—who else feeds you lamb? Chicken? Eggs? Who else gives your children uniforms, who else does everything for you like this one? We must protect this government like an egg—like our own eyes.”
Such is the reach of the propaganda: a system that manufactures praise while the majority plunge deeper into destitution.
Let’s be clear: Ethiopia is not just poor. It is being pushed into abject, engineered poverty under the guise of modern governance. While the regime dishes out cooking oil, lambs and chickens for spectacle, prices soar far beyond the reach of ordinary citizens. In a country where Easter is celebrated with such reverence—especially among Orthodox Christians who abstain from meat and dairy for 55 days—the holiday this year feels more symbolic than substantial for most. A single chicken now costs upwards of 1200 Birr (rough average of 1500 Birr), alarmingly close to the monthly wage of an unskilled laborer.
What kind of society celebrates generosity with cameras rolling and stomachs still empty? What kind of leadership turns poverty into a photo-op?
These carefully orchestrated spectacles of benevolence are not just out of touch; they are morally offensive. They are designed to mask a failing system with the illusion of care. The sad irony is that, while some hail the regime as godsent for distributing token groceries during this festive holiday, millions are crushed under the weight of inflation, displacement, and repression.
Let’s call this what it is: propaganda dressed as pity. And pity is no substitute for policy.
Happy Easter!