In the Heart of Ethiopia, a Star Was Born
Ermias (Fika) came into this world on a quiet Saturday morning around 4:30 AM, at St. Paul’s Hospital in the suburbs of Addis Ababa, Ethiopia. A place alive with rhythm, laughter, and culture. Addis is a city where the scent of fresh coffee mingles with the sound of children playing in the streets, where neighbors are more like extended family, and where music, tradition, and storytelling flow through daily life like a heartbeat. It’s a city that dances between the old and the new, where ancient customs live alongside modern hopes, and warmth isn’t just felt, it’s offered freely. In this rich, vibrant world, Fika was right at home. His spirit matched the energy of the place, bold, expressive, curious, and full of light.
According to our mother, his arrival was as gentle as his spirit, the labor was easy, the delivery smooth, almost effortless. It was as if even then, he didn’t want to cause a stir. That calm, kind energy stayed with him his whole life soft but strong, steady and full of grace.
As a child, he was almost always happy, the kind of little boy whose smile could brighten any room. He laughed easily, found joy in the simplest things, and carried a gentle curiosity that made him endlessly endearing.
One of our mom’s favorite memories from his toddler years was how he used to call every dog he saw “Weya” in his sweet, babyish voice that made everyone around him melt. There was something pure and disarming about the way he saw the world. He trusted easily, loved openly, and believed the best in people.
That same trust made him vulnerable to a few playful tricks here and there but even then, Fika never stayed upset. He was too full of warmth, too charmed by life itself to hold a grudge.
He had a natural charisma, even as a young boy not loud or attention-seeking, but quiet and magnetic. People were drawn to him. And whether you were family, friend, or stranger, he made you feel safe, seen, and welcome.
From a young age, Fika stood out, not just in his family, but in the wider community. People noticed him. He had a presence, the kind that made people smile when he walked into a room. Elders loved his confidence and charm; younger kids followed him around with admiration. He was always talking, always laughing, always moving, his extroverted nature was magnetic.
Fika fit into Addis not just because he was born there, but because he embodied its warmth. He carried the city’s hospitality in his heart, always offering a seat, a smile, a conversation. He thrived in the community’s love for connection, the long talks over buna (coffee), the playful banter in the neighborhood, the spirit of togetherness that Addis breathes.
Fika was cherished. Not just by his family, but by anyone lucky enough to cross his path. He belonged to his community in the most beautiful way and they loved him, not just for who he was, but for the joy he brought wherever he went.
He was happy-go-lucky from the start, vibrant, playful, full of life. Bold and fearless, Fika didn’t shrink from the world; he leaned into it. He brought energy into every room, turning the ordinary into something meaningful. Conversations with him were never dull, he loved to challenge ideas, to debate, to stir up thoughtful arguments just to see where they could go. And he did it all with that spark in his eyes.
As a child, Fika carried a kind of innocence that felt rare, he was pure, unassuming, and endlessly trusting. His heart was wide open to the world. While some saw this tenderness as naivete, those who truly knew him recognized it for what it was: a soul untouched by bitterness, full of genuine goodness.
In a family of strong personalities, Fika’s uniqueness was unmistakable. He wasn’t afraid to be himself, loud when he wanted to be, quiet when he needed to be, always true. He laughed easily, loved freely, and believed in people with a kind of faith that was almost childlike, even as he grew older.
Fika was a bright light from the very beginning. He didn’t just grow up in a family, he made the family feel more alive.
A Soul That Felt Familiar to the World
In 2011, Fika moved to the United States, carrying with him the heart of Addis full of warmth and resilience. And just like he did back home, he adapted with grace. There was something about Fika that made him feel instantly familiar to everyone he met. He was bold in spirit, grounded in heart. He had a gift: he could walk into any space, any culture, any situation and somehow, make it feel like he had always belonged.
Fika assimilated into his new community effortlessly, not because he changed who he was, but because who he was resonated so deeply with others. His personality was beautifully malleable, not shapeless, but open. He had an ease about him, a natural ability to connect, to listen, to make people feel seen. He could talk to anyone, from all walks of life and somehow speak the language of their hearts.
At work, Fika quickly became more than just a colleague. He was loved. Deeply. People gravitated toward his energy, his bold charisma, his steady work ethic, his quick smile, and that unique ability to lighten a heavy day with just a few words. He wasn’t one to chase attention, yet he was always at the center of something meaningful. People trusted him. Valued him. Respected him.
He worked hard not for recognition, but because that’s who he was. Every task, every shift, every responsibility, he gave it his all. And that integrity didn’t go unnoticed. Fika was promoted again and again, not just because he was good at his job, but because he made work better for everyone around him. He lifted people. He inspired them. He led with heart.
No matter where he went, in Addis or in America, Fika belonged. Not because he conformed, but because his soul spoke a universal language of warmth, where ease meets empathy, humor bridges hearts, and everyone finds their place.
Fika had a brilliant, curious mind, he loved math and computers, and he pursued them with a quiet passion that fueled so much of his journey. He graduated college with honors, not because things came easily to him, but because he was committed, focused, and deeply motivated to grow. He had this way of keeping things easygoing on the surface, but underneath, he was always thinking, learning, building. He thrived in thought-provoking conversations, loved a good debate, and lit up when discussing big ideas or complex challenges.
Long before his time in the U.S., while still in Addis Ababa, Fika played a major role in the construction of the new Ethiopian Airlines terminal, one of the country’s most important and iconic projects. In his role, he supervised others with grace and clarity, gaining deep respect for both his leadership and his technical skill. It was a perfect example of who he was: humble but driven, quiet but deeply impactful.
A Love That Endures: Fika’s Everlasting Devotion to Family
Fika loved his family with a depth that was quiet, constant, and unwavering. He held his parents in the highest regard, always respectful, always mindful of their love and sacrifices. From childhood to his very last day, he remained obedient and attentive, never wanting to cause them pain, never wanting to see sadness in their eyes. That was Fika’s heart: tender, protective, and full of honor. He cherished his family deeply, not just in words, but in every act of care, every check-in call, every small gesture that said, “I’m here, and I love you.” Family was his foundation, his safe place, and his greatest pride.
There was no time of year that he looked forward to more than Christmas. For Fika, Christmas wasn’t just about the festivities or the gifts; it was about the moments spent with his children, siblings, nieces, nephew, and parents. The holiday was a sacred tradition, one filled with laughter, games, and, most of all, love. He reveled in the joy of decorating the tree, exchanging heartfelt gifts with his siblings, and sitting around the table with his parents, enjoying the warmth and togetherness that only Christmas could bring.
Every Christmas, Fika’s presence was a place of joy and warmth, and his love for the season was contagious. He believed that family was what truly made the world feel like home. Whether it was cooking a big meal together or singing late into the night, Fika cherished these moments. His passion for Christmas wasn’t just about celebrating a holiday; it was about celebrating the people he loved most in the world. The magic of the season was in the shared smiles, the inside jokes, and the memories created that would last a lifetime.
Fall, Rise, Repeat: The Quiet Bravery of Fika
Fika never rested on comfort. He was the adventurer of the family, always chasing the next dream, the next challenge, the next version of himself. Whether it was a new business idea, a creative project, or a learning opportunity, he leapt forward with excitement and courage. And even when some of those ventures didn’t work out, as they sometimes don’t, he never stayed down for long. He would rise, dust himself off, and try again, with no hesitation and no bitterness. His resilience was extraordinary. So was his belief in growth, in change, in the power of starting over.
Fika’s life was a moving force: full of momentum, full of heart. He taught everyone around him what it means to be brave, curious, and forever reaching forward.
Fika found joy in discovering new places, experiencing different cultures, and collecting memories that went far beyond photos. Whether it was a road trip to an unfamiliar town or dreaming about distant countries, Fika’s curiosity was boundless. He saw the world not just as a place to live in, but as something to learn from. In many ways, he was the adventurer of the family, the one who inspired others to take chances, to step out, to see more. His love for travel reflected his inner thirst for growth and wonder, and the way he embraced life with open arms.
Shining While Carrying Shadows
As courageous and relentless as Fika was, always charging forward, always lifting others, he was fighting an unseen war in his personal life. Behind his infectious smile and tireless work ethic, Fika was carrying a deep emotional weight that, over time, began to dim the light that once made him shine so brightly.
Over the years, we his family, witnessed the shift. Slowly, painfully, his joyous, unbeatable spirit began to break. The vibrant, bold man who once filled every room with laughter and curiosity was growing quieter, smaller, more unsure. He was unhappy but trapped, bound by layers of religious expectations and cultural beliefs that told him to endure, to stay, to sacrifice.
Fika had always taken care of himself with intention. He was disciplined, fit, and health-conscious, often cooking his own meals, staying active, and valuing wellness. He lived with clarity and determination. But then, as the chronic stress of his home life deepened, something began to shift inside him. His body started to show the weight of what his heart had been carrying.
He became unsure of himself, questioning everything more than ever before. He tried endlessly to make things right to bring peace, to hold his world together. But his efforts were often misunderstood. What came from love and responsibility was misread. His attempts to protect and provide were seen differently than he intended.
In time, he found himself facing harsh criticism, misrepresentation, and painful misunderstandings that rippled far beyond what he could control. His name and his heart were weighed down by stories that didn’t reflect the man we knew and loved: a man who simply tried too hard and loved too deeply.
It’s a story we don’t talk about enough: men who are emotionally broken down, misread, and misjudged. Too often, they’re called aggressive or controlling not because it’s true, but because those are the stories society is quick to believe. Fika, like so many others, was slowly unraveling on the inside while being told to ‘man up.’ His body was pleading for rest, his spirit worn thin from years of carrying invisible pain, the kind no one stops to see until it’s too late.
When Clarity Came with the Storm
Then, around Christmas of 2024, something shifted. A health emergency shook Fika to his core and gave him clarity. For the first time in a long while, he said, “I need to come closer to my family. I need support.”
He began making plans to return home to the people who knew and loved him, to the comfort and safety he had longed for. But as his departure grew closer, the emotional pressure around him began to intensify.
Fika, who had finally chosen his well-being, faced growing resistance. There were moments when his intentions were questioned, when the road back to peace felt blocked by fear, confusion, and unjustified suspicion. In a world that often mistrusts men’s pain, even his attempt to leave quietly and respectfully became complicated simply because he was a man seeking help.
In a world where society often jumps to conclusions about gender and power, men are frequently cast as the aggressors in domestic situations even without evidence. It’s a dangerous bias, and in Fika’s case, it became devastating.
Even as he tried to leave with peace and dignity to remove himself from an environment that was slowly breaking him, his love for his children, and his fear of being misunderstood created a painful trap. He was stuck in a cruel paradox, where staying hurt, but leaving could destroy him.
It wasn’t just fear. It was exhaustion. Emotional pressure. The subtle and not-so-subtle forces that can keep a person locked in place, doubting themselves, silenced by the weight of cultural taboos, harmful religious dogmas, and gender stereotypes.
In the end, it wasn’t a single moment that broke Fika, it was years of being unheard, unseen, and misjudged in a world that rarely makes space for men like him to speak their truth or find safety.
Fika carried a heavy emotional burden, one rooted in feeling misunderstood, unheard, and unseen. He bore it with remarkable strength and dignity. But no human being can carry that weight forever. Not when love is misread as control, not when care is questioned, not when your voice is lost in noise, and your truth goes unacknowledged.
When Coming Home Couldn’t Wait
Fika had planned to return home at the end of June 2025. But his body had already begun to show signs of distress. Somewhere deep down, maybe he sensed that waiting any longer wasn’t an option. So, he changed his plans and decided to come home in March instead. He just wanted peace and to be surrounded by those who loved him for who he truly was.
It was Saturday, March 29th.
That day, Fika was filled with joy. He was finally making the move to Virginia, for good. After 14 long years in North Carolina, he was coming home. He had chosen to return to the people who truly knew him, who loved him deeply and unconditionally.
Throughout the day, he sent us videos from rest stops along the highway, joyful, full of laughter, his children beside him. There was light in his eyes again. For the first time in a long time, he looked free. He looked hopeful.
The Reunion That Turned Into Goodbye
Around 11 PM that night, we received his final texts, messages filled with excitement, relief, and anticipation. He was ready for the next chapter. Ready to heal. Ready to be surrounded by the love and support he had so long been denied.
We were supposed to see him the very next day, Sunday, March 30th, at 12 PM, for a welcome gathering at our brother’s home. The whole family had been waiting for that moment. We had prepared to embrace him with open arms, to surround him with warmth, to finally give him the safety and peace he had been searching for. It wasn’t just a reunion; it was a homecoming long overdue. A celebration of his return, his courage, and a new beginning.
But in the cruelest and most unexplainable twist of fate, that reunion never happened.
Less than 12 hours before we were supposed to welcome him home, we received a call. Fika had suffered a sudden medical emergency. We rushed to the hospital, panicked, disoriented, devastated, only to be told he had experienced a massive brain bleed.
The doctors were puzzled. There was no clear explanation. One of them, visibly shaken, said she had never seen anything like it, so sudden, so severe. Fika had no history of high blood pressure. His heart had been doing great, strong and steady until the very end. His heart condition was well managed and closely monitored by renowned cardiologists at Duke. Every test, every check-up, had confirmed stability. Nothing in his medical records pointed to this outcome. And yet, it happened.
And just like that, on the very day we were meant to celebrate his return, we found ourselves grieving an unfathomable loss.
What was meant to be a day of joy and reunion became the day we lost him forever.
The questions remain. The pain remains. But so does his story. His truth. His light.
When God Whispered, ‘It Is Enough’
Fika was not just a victim of a mysterious medical event, he was a warrior. A man who endured more than anyone ever should. Who carried burdens most could not see. Who fought with quiet courage until the very end. He deserved so much more than this world gave him.
But when that final moment came, it was peaceful. He passed painlessly, his body finally surrendering after years of silent struggle. And though our hearts break knowing he’s no longer with us, we believe with everything in us that God, in His infinite mercy, looked at Fika and said, “My child, it is enough. Come home.”
Because God knew the weight Fika had been carrying. He knew the sorrow tucked behind the smile, the exhaustion behind the strength. He knew Fika had given all he had. And in that quiet, sacred hour, God reached down and said, “Let Me give you rest, the kind this world could never offer.”
Fika didn’t just leave us. He was called into peace. Into freedom. Into joy. Into a place where there is no sorrow, no sadness, no silent suffering. Only light, laughter, and the love of a Father who knows every tear and every trial.
We miss him deeply. Desperately. But we trust that, for him, it happened at the right time. Not because we were ready, but because God, in His loving wisdom, knew that Fika had carried more than any human should, and it was time.
So now, we hold on to the memory of his smile, the sound of his laughter, and the love he gave so freely. And while we ache for his presence here, we rejoice in knowing that Fika is finally free, resting in the arms of a God, who makes all things whole again.
Because Silence Should Never Be a Death Sentence
Our love for him doesn’t end here. We will continue to tell Fika’s story, not only to honor his life, but to shed light on the silent struggles that so many others endure. We will speak so others don’t have to suffer in silence. So that more people can experience the safety, dignity, and quality of life that Fika was so often denied.
We will raise our voices to create awareness about how men, too, can be deeply affected by emotional pain, overlooked in conversations about mental health, and unseen in situations of domestic hardship. Not to assign blame, but to break stigmas, to open hearts, and to remind the world that compassion and support must extend to everyone, regardless of gender.
We Look Up, and He Is There
Through this, Fika’s legacy will live on, not just in our memories, but in the lives, we help change in his name. And so, to honor his light, a light that never dimmed, even in the darkest hours, a star has been named after Fika. It now shines in the vast sky above us, just as he once lit up our world with his warmth, laughter, and unshakable strength.
When we miss him, we look to the sky, not just to remember, but to feel him. Because Fika is still with us. In the quiet strength of the stars. In the courage it takes to keep going. In the light that refuses to fade, no matter how heavy the darkness. He is guiding us, watching over us, and reminding us with every glimmer above that love doesn’t die. Bravery like his doesn’t disappear. It becomes eternal. And now, his light lives where it can never be dimmed.
Star Name: Fika
Registered Coordinates: RA/DEC: 06H 57M 16.6S +58° 25′ 23″
If Fika’s story has touched your heart, we invite you to share it, not just to honor his memory, but to reach others who may still be carrying their own silent struggles.
And if you have a story of resilience, survival, or hope that you would like to share, we would be honored to hear it. Reach out to us, and with your permission, we will feature your story on our website, giving voice to the strength and courage that so often goes unseen.
Together, we can break the silence. Together, we can bring light to the ones still fighting in the dark.
—Banchu (Nama)