Young Editors, Free Content & Limitless Pages: Ethiopia’s Digital Literary Subculture

In Ethiopia, where the weight of tradition has long anchored the written word to ink and paper, a quiet subculture is finding its voice in unexpected places. It lives not in the kiosks of Addis Ababa, where newspapers and magazines once piled high, but on Telegram channels, websites, and PDFs circulating from phone to phone.

The phenomenon is young and still unpolished, yet unmistakable: a new generation of digital magazines is ushering in liminal spaces for Ethiopian urbanites to write and share literature.

The exact beginning is difficult to trace, but one early marker is Tadias, a publication founded in 2003 by Ethiopian-Americans. In the years since, dozens of smaller, homegrown ventures founded by former authors, editors, and literary aficionados have sprouted. Most are volunteer-led and distributed for free, carrying a spirit more akin to cultural revival than business enterprise. They offer something rare in a landscape where traditional papers have shrunk or shuttered: pages without limits, a canvas wide open for writers.

Perhaps the best known of this new wave is Bayra, which means “great” in Dorze language. Launched nearly two years ago by 11 founders from different walks of life, the monthly Amharic magazine has grown to more than 4,500 subscribers on Telegram, with a website created to widen its reach.

The idea, according to co-founder and editor in chief Wibaderege Admit, was born of frustration. “We have a wealth of literary work to share, but we were limited by the constraints of traditional magazines, which have restrictions in both page count and content,” said the co-founder, who primarily earns a living as a marketing professional. Bayra, he explained, was designed to be “a platform for unrestricted literary expression.” Webaderege hopes to see more people detach themselves from doom scrolling and engage with written material presented in a digital format.

Contributions arrive via email, Telegram, and word of mouth. Bookshops like Jafar and owners of literary channels help promote each issue. While Bayra avoids politics and religious sermons, it welcomes nearly everything else, from short stories to essays. Topics cover everything from philosophical meanderings about existentialism and free will to social commentary and literary critique of folk Ethiopian nursery rhymes. The magazine’s circulation has surged recently, sometimes reaching tens of thousands of views.

For readers like Zufan Kifle, a high school teacher in Mizan Teferi, Southwest Ethiopia, the appeal is both practical and cultural. 

“Traditional newspapers are not readily accessible to us in a timely manner. Digital magazines are easy to read and convenient,” he said. “Social media can be distracting. Digital magazines give us a place to read with focus.”

Another digital magazine, Medina, was founded seventeen months ago by five writers who first met at a Goethe-Institut competition in Addis Ababa. Their Telegram channel now counts more than 2,700 subscribers.

Medina is branded as an arts and culture-focused publication. Its last edition included an album review, an interview with an expat Ethiopian branding expert living in Sweden, and a short bio on the life and works of Persian philosopher Al Ghazali. An eclectic mix of topics is ubiquitous across previous editions as well. Its founders, like Bayra’s, saw opportunity in the decline of print after the pandemic made newspapers even harder to sustain. “Print-based publications became increasingly obsolete due to rising costs and the dominance of digital alternatives,” said Bisrat Mebratu, Medina’s main editor.

Unlike Bayra, Medina does impose page limits. But it has ambitions that stretch beyond distribution. The team mentors new authors, edits manuscripts, and hopes eventually to secure funding to expand its reach.

The latest of these digital magazines is Kelem, which means “color” in Amharic and by the looks of it looks to live up to the name with each exploding in vibrant hues. Just two months old, it was launched by ten enthusiasts who wanted another outlet for young writers. With only 450 subscribers so far, it remains small, but its founders see digital as the future. 

“Digital technology has simplified publishing and eliminated the costs of printing,” said Tieyint Abate, Kelem’s editor.

For now, like its peers, Kelem runs on unpaid passion. Costs such as design are covered informally, with hopes that sponsorships might one day help.

It is difficult to measure the true impact of these magazines. Downloads are shared across devices and reposted on different channels, making audience size elusive. Yet their influence is visible in the conversations they spark and the writers they nurture. Medina estimates that a single post can draw 15,000 views. Bayra has hit nearly 49,000.

For frequent contributors like Nebil Adugna, the shift feels personal. “When I wrote for Addis Admas, I struggled to gain readership. Writing for a digital magazine has allowed me to reach a wider audience,” he told Shega.

Some established authors, like Yacob Berhanou, who has five books to his name, are cautiously optimistic. “Digital magazines provide a valuable platform for writers,” he said. “But to ensure sustainability, we must enhance the content to attract readers back to the written word.” He has contributed to a few editions of this new wave of digital magazines.

For now, the movement is sustained less by financial backing than by conviction. Teams of young editors and writers, scattered across Ethiopia and the diaspora, believe they are building not just magazines but a culture.