Resolution Studio

In 1996, 15.6% of adults in Addis Ababa were living with HIV. One in six people in the capital.

Ethiopia’s first HIV case was detected in 1984. Its first AIDS case followed in 1986. What happened in the years between is one of the most important and least told chapters in the country’s modern history.

The epidemic did not spread randomly. It followed the roads.

Long-distance truck drivers, soldiers, and commercial s*x workers along Ethiopia’s major trade routes became the first communities heavily affected. Infection rates reached as high as 55% in some groups by the late 1980s.

From the highways, it moved into cities. From cities, it moved into families.

By 2003, the national infection rate had reached 4.4%.
In Addis Ababa and other urban areas, it was far higher.

AIDS had become the leading cause of death among Ethiopian adults.

Treatment existed, but for many, the fear of being known was heavier than the fear of the disease itself.

Ethiopia did not wait for the silence to lift on its own.
It created a campaign to break it.

In 1954, Wonji Sugar Factory began making sugar near Adama, about 110 km from Addis Ababa. It was the first modern sugar factory in Ethiopia, built during the time of Haile Selassie.

Before this, most people farmed their own land and grew different kinds of crops. Wonji’s large fields were turned into sugarcane farms, and water from the Awash River was used to grow one main crop.

The factory also changed how people worked. Many people became workers with fixed hours and a monthly pay. People moved from different places to work there, and new communities grew around the factory. Schools, homes, and clinics were built. Some workers learned new skills, but many still did hard, repetitive jobs. Life became more organized around the factory and its schedule.

Wonji sugar factory helped Ethiopia make its own sugar instead of buying from other countries. It created jobs and helped grow the economy. But it also brought new challenges. Farming became less diverse, and people started to depend more on one system.

Wonji was a beginning and the change.

A look back at the campaigns that made an impact in Ethiopia.

Some campaigns leave a mark, and Ethiopia felt every one of them. More is coming. Stay tuned.

Long before a group of early Muslims crossed into what is now Ethiopia, seeking safety not among their own, but under the protection of a Christian king.

Making Ethiopia one of the first lands to shelter Islam.

Reminding us that faith is about humanity, coexistence, and the courage to protect one another.

Moving into higher-paying sectors is rarely a straight line. It’s a series of pathways, and many women are blocked before they even begin.

Education is one of the first gates.
Not just access to schooling, but staying in school long enough to build usable skills.

From there, skills development becomes critical.
Technical and vocational training, digital skills, and industry-specific capabilities are often the bridge between informal work and more stable, higher-paying roles.

There is also the question of transition.
Moving from informal work into the formal sector requires entry points, apprenticeships, and systems that enable women to transition into new roles without incurring disproportionate risk.

And across all of this sits a constant condition. Safety.
The ability to move, work, and participate without fear shapes every decision along the way.

Which is why closing the gender pay gap is not just about wages.
And making the system efficient enough for women to move through these pathways with less resistance.

March 8 began with a protest. In 1909, women garment workers in New York marched for fair pay and dignity.

A year later, German activist Clara Zetkin proposed a global Women’s Day, and by 1911, rallies across Europe were demanding voting rights and equality.

Decades later, in 1977, the United Nations officially recognized March 8 as International Women’s Day.

What began as a cry for justice evolved into a worldwide movement. A day to honor women and remind the world that equality is not a gift, but a right.

The sparkling water that we know and love has an interesting story behind it.

Together, we craft websites that go beyond function.
We create digital art that informs, inspires, and endures.
Explore more at www.resolution.studio

It often feels like a betrayal whenever "Addis Ababa" is used instead of "Addis Abeba".

But why?

Colonial-era transliteration norms—let’s just say, “በ” was a mouthful.

European tongues stumbled over the softness of “Abeba,” and so, in early publications, it became “Ababa.”

A small shift, but one that stuck around across maps, treaties, and time.

The Ethio-Djibouti railway- Ethiopia’s first major infrastructure collaboration with the French laid more than tracks. It laid linguistic foundations.

By 1907, the Franco-Ethiopian alliance had ushered in a wave of French cartographers, engineers, and diplomats. With them came spelling conventions that bent local names to fit European phonetics.

“Abeba” softened into “Ababa” not out of disrespect, but out of typographic convenience and colonial habit.

The Big question: is it fair to force the true pronunciation on the world?

We will leave the answer to you.