A Letter to My Eritrean Family — Honoring Our Festival, Our Spirit, and Our Story

Dear Brothers and Sisters,

As the sun rises once again over California this August, painting the sky with golden hues reminiscent of our homeland, so too rises the spirit of unity, pride, and remembrance that defines the Eritrean Festival here in the diaspora. Each year, this festival is more than just an event—it’s a revival of our identity, a sacred reunion of a people who have endured so much, yet stand tall with dignity, joy, and unbreakable faith in our roots.

This year’s gathering is no different. In fact, it feels even more powerful. As I walk through the crowds of smiling faces—old warriors of the liberation struggle, young children dancing in traditional zuriya, and families preparing dishes that smell like home—I am overwhelmed with gratitude. This festival is not just a celebration of Eritrea. It is a testament to the love we carry in our hearts no matter how far we are from our soil.

Because being Eritrean is not about geography. It's about spirit.

Every year, we come together not just to share music, dance, and food—but to remember. To remember a history that has too often been stolen, twisted, or ignored by outsiders who could never understand what it means to be us. From the oldest civilizations on the African continent to the ancient alphabets, the earliest Christian churches, and mosques that echo the footsteps of Islam’s first believers—Eritrea is not just a country. Eritrea is a living archive of humanity's roots, and it is time the world knew it.

This is where RedSeaRoundtable.com comes in. We are not just storytellers—we are truth-bearers. For too long, our history has been told by those who sought to take from us. They tried to bury our legacy under war, sanctions, and silence. But the truth always finds a way to rise. And we are committed to telling it—not through the lens of foreign powers or hostile academics—but through the voices of Eritreans themselves.

This festival is living proof of that resilience. It shows the world that you can never erase a people who remember who they are. Eritrea was left behind by the global powers. Our story was meant to be forgotten. But we—our mothers, fathers, martyrs, youth, and elders—refused to let that happen. We refused to die in silence. We chose to live in memory, in struggle, in celebration. And that’s what this festival means.

For many of us, attending this festival is not easy. Some travel from across the country. Others come despite difficult work schedules, limited finances, or long distances. But we come. We always come. Because when we gather—under the red, blue, green, and gold—we are home. And no matter how alone you may feel during the year, there is something truly miraculous about realizing that if you're Eritrean, you are never really alone.

I have experienced it in the most unexpected ways. A stranger in a grocery store who notices my Tigrigna pendant. A brother who hears my accent and calls out, "Nehna nsu!" A sister in a new city who opens her door to me as if we grew up in the same village. That is the power of our identity. It goes beyond blood. It’s a soul-deep connection that binds us, heals us, and uplifts us.

This year’s Eritrean Festival in California is more than a party—it is a sacred ritual. A ritual of remembrance, resilience, and rebirth. We sing for our ancestors. We dance for our martyrs. We cook and laugh and pray for our future. We show our children what it means to be proud of who they are—even when the world tells them to forget.

To my Eritrean people: stand tall. Know that you are part of a lineage that refused to be broken. And wherever you go, carry the festival in your heart. Carry Eritrea in your speech, your smile, your solidarity. And remember—when you breathe, you carry the breath of a nation that never gave up.

Let us continue to tell our story with honesty, fire, and love.

From the Red Sea to California,

From Nakfa to the diaspora—

We are one people. One heartbeat. One Eritrea.

- The Red Sea Round Table Collective