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“What motivates me most is the pain I went through myself, and the suffering I see around me. I know what it feels like to live with obstetric fistula: the shame, the isolation, the silence. That pain became my purpose. I don’t want other women to experience what I did. I’m always thinking about those hidden women suffering alone, unaware that healing is even possible.

Where I live, in a very rural part of Ethiopia, girls are married off as early as 12. When childbirth injuries happen, no one knows what to do. So I go door to door talking to families and women, raising awareness. The women I find have been living with fistula for months, years, or decades.

Convincing women to leave home and seek treatment can take a long time. There is a fear of being seen, and judged. They are tired, rejected by loved ones, and broken. And when I do convince someone to come with me, the journey itself is hard. It takes us two days or more to reach Jimma Hospital. Riding the bus is difficult, and sometimes the smell from fistula incontinence causes other passengers to complain.

Still, I keep going. What gives me strength is imagining these women after healing, and how they might smile and walk confidently again. I believe that God sees what I do and will bless my future. But saving these women is enough for me.

When we finally arrive at the hospital, emotions are mixed. The women are scared of the unknown, but they are also deeply happy. Happiness wins. Because for the first time in a long time, they feel seen. They feel hope.

If a woman has no one to stay with her at the hospital, I care for her child if she has one. I help her walk, buy anything she needs, and provide comfort food. I don’t want her to worry. I want her to rest and focus on healing.

Some people ask me if it’s exhausting. The truth is that it’s my blessing. These women often say, ‘You are doing for us what even our families haven’t done. God bless you.’ Those words stay with me.

I want to thank Jimma Hospital and Healing Hands of Joy. They believed in me, encouraged me, and gave me the support I needed to do this work. They changed my life by helping me become who I am today. Every time I bring a woman to treatment, I feel proud and a part of something greater than myself.

For now, I dream of starting a small business, maybe in the local market, so I can earn a living and still continue helping women. My goal remains the same: to be there for women suffering from fistula. Because I can’t let another woman suffer alone.”

What does the New Year mean for You? 

Growing up, Azmeraw says her New Year celebrations were filled with vibrant traditions: the gathering of Adey Ababa flowers and going to different homes with joyful songs, giving flowers and in return receiving a blessing and shared meals. It was a time of laughter and community, where elders offered blessings and homes were filled with warmth. “Yet, beneath the surface of these joyful traditions, I carried a silent burden- the pain of obstetric fistula for ten years. For years, this condition was with me, but it could not dim the hope I held for a brighter future.

Today, healed and renewed, I no longer endure that pain. The New Year now holds a deeper, more powerful meaning. It is a testament to my strength and the new life I reclaimed. This year, the New Year celebration is not just about tradition; it is about honoring the women who share my journey.

At the Bahir Dar center, the New Year will be  a powerful and joyful occasion. Though life’s paths have taken us women to different places, we are now together, united by our shared experiences and a renewed sense of hope. Our New Year celebration is a testament to the power of community. The celebration will be filled with the aroma of traditional coffee ceremonies, the warmth of shared meals, and the simple joy of being together.

Azmeraw says laughter echoes through the center as we share stories, offer blessings, and enjoy the comfort of true companionship. For me and my sisters here, this New Year is a powerful reminder that while the past may have brought challenges, the future is filled with endless possibilities. It is a celebration of a new dawn, not just for me but for every woman who has found her way back to herself and her community.

Azmeraw Abate, Meketewa Woreda, Angar Kebele, age 20, Bahir Dar Center, Sep. 9, 2025