Tewolde Woldu

Tewolde Woldu Tewoldemedhin, affectionately known to many as Tewoldino, lived a life defined by service, generosity, and deep human connection. His father, Woldu Tewoldemedhin, originally from Adi-Ke—a small town outside Asmara—later relocated with his family to the southern region of Eritrea.

Tewolde “Tewoldino” was born on December 29, 1937, in the small village of Adi Gania, near Adi Qwala in Eritrea. He was the youngest of five children born to Woldu and Medhin, growing up in a close-knit family that instilled in him the values of humility, hard work, and care for others.

Tewolde’s early life was shaped by both hardship and resilience. He lost his father when he was only one year old and was raised by his devoted mother, Adey Medhin Gebre Mariam, alongside his siblings: Abrahatsion Woldu, Haile Woldu, GebreMichael Woldu and Eqube Woldu. Despite the challenges of losing his father at an early age, he grew into a young man full of curiosity, courage, and a deep sense of purpose.

As a middle school student, he moved to Asmara, where he attended Bet Giorgis Middle School, and later graduated from Asmara Secondary School. He continued his education to become a teacher in Asmara at Teacher’s Training Institute (TTI) and began his professional life as an educator. His first assignment took him to Dekeamhare, where he worked as an elementary school teacher before returning to teach in Asmara.

At the age of 24, Tewolde embarked on a remarkable journey of service. As a pioneer for the Bahá’í Faith, he traveled to the Kunama region of Eritrea to share the teachings of his faith. What began as a spiritual mission became one of the most transformative chapters of his life. For five years he lived among the Kunama people, working the land as a farmer alongside them, eating what they ate, and forming deep friendships and lifelong bonds. His time there reflected the essence of who he was. A man who believed in unity, humility, and walking alongside others rather than above them.

After this period of service, Tewolde pursued a new professional direction and joined the National Soft Drinks Factory in Asmara as an accountant. This opportunity opened another chapter in his career when he later joined Handelsvereniging Amsterdam (HPV) as a sales associate. As the company expanded the Wonji Sugar Factory and later operations across Ethiopia, Tewolde’s work took him across the country. His travels carried him from north to south and from east to west, allowing him to discover the rich diversity of Ethiopia and build friendships wherever he went.

In 1974, he settled in Dessie, Wollo, where he served as a branch manager. During his twelve years there, life brought him another great blessing when he met his wife, Nigist Berhe. Together they built a family and welcomed their two daughters, Leleda and Carmel.

Tewolde was deeply intentional even in the names he gave his children. He named his first daughter Leleda, meaning Dawn, inspired by the Kunama language and the spirit of new beginnings it represents. His second daughter, Carmel, was named after Mount Carmel in Israel, reflecting his spiritual devotion.

As the Ethiopian Sugar Corporation expanded its operations to Metahara and Shoa, Tewolde moved to the company’s headquarters in Addis Ababa, where he continued his work until his retirement.

In 1998, Tewolde began the second major chapter of his life when he immigrated to the United States. He settled in Boston, Massachusetts, where he worked at Fleet Bank and built new friendships and community during the eight years he lived there. In 2006, he moved to San Diego, California, where he would spend the remainder of his life.

While his life story includes many places and professions, what truly defined Tewolde was the lasting footprint he left in people. He was a father, grandfather, brother, son, and uncle. But above all, he was a devoted friend and confidant to countless individuals whose lives he touched.

Tewolde carried himself with dignity, warmth, and an open heart. His generosity was not something he practiced occasionally. It was his identity. He gave of himself freely and wholeheartedly, always extending kindness and support to others. His greatest gift was his ability to connect with people across generations, cultures, and backgrounds.

He loved bringing people together. Family members and friends would travel from the far north to the far south simply to spend time with him because they knew they would be welcomed. His home was always open to anyone in need, and many found comfort, guidance, and belonging there. To his extended family, he was home.

As a father and grandfather, he led not through words alone but through the example of the life he lived. A life grounded in integrity, service, and love. His affection was evident in the small but meaningful ways he cared for others. A simple phone call from Tewolde wouldn’t be complete without a thorough investigation of everyone’s wellbeing. His attention to each person made everyone feel seen and valued.

Service to humanity remained a guiding principle throughout his life. As a steadfast believer in his faith, he sought opportunities to serve wherever he was needed. His dedication took him to places such as Keren, Barentu , Kunama, Wollo, Ambo, and many parts of southern Ethiopia during different periods of his life. His life itself became a testimony to the belief that service to others is the highest calling.

Beyond his work and service, Tewolde had passions that brought him great joy. Soccer was one of his lifelong loves. He played the game in his younger years, coached several teams in both Eritrea and Ethiopia, and remained a devoted fan throughout his life. He especially admired the brilliance of Diego Maradona. Soccer was not just a sport to him; it was another way to connect with people and build community. His home was World Cup central where the neighborhood youth gathered to watch the beautiful game on Television.

He also loved traveling throughout Ethiopia with his children, proudly showing them the places that shaped his life, his workplaces, the towns he lived in, and the friends and family he cherished. Those journeys became treasured memories for his daughters and reflected his deep love for both family and country.

Tewolde lived fully and on his own terms. He cherished his independence, valued his friendships, and found joy in meaningful conversations, family gatherings, and the simple act of being present with the people he loved.

He is lovingly remembered by his daughters Leleda and Carmel; his sons-in-law Jamaal and Sehul; and his beloved grandchildren Semayan, Melaya, and Kalan. He is also remembered by his 14 nieces and nephews, as well as extended family members and dear friends scattered across Eritrea, Ethiopia, Europe, Canada, and the United States, all of whom loved and respected him deeply.

Although his life on earth came to a close following a sudden illness, the legacy he leaves behind of kindness, service, and human connection will continue to live on in the hearts of those who knew him.

As written in the Bahá’í Writings:

“O Son of the Supreme! I have made death a messenger of joy to thee. Wherefore dost thou grieve? I made the light to shed on thee its splendor. Why dost thou veil thyself therefrom?”

Tewolde’s life was a testament to love, dignity, and service. His memory will remain a guiding light to all who were blessed to know him.

Dearest Carmel and Leleda,

It is with tearful eyes that I am writing this short message as I knew Gashe Tewolde since my childhood.

His humbleness, laughter, soft hair and closeness to my late father are the memories still alive with me. I also remember the spot that he liked to stand at the Baha’i center, perhaps to get the Sunday morning sunshine after dawn prayer.

For some reason, I used to like hugging him when I meet him at the Baha’i center. As I was good in memorizing and reciting Hidden Words at NDF’s and Sunday dawn prayers, he was one of the elder Baha’is that used to be happy, give me big hugs, rubs my head say Gobez and encourage me. Indeed he was a blessed soul and much remembered!

We were indeed blessed to have been surrounded, couched and mentored by such blessed souls. As far as I remember, he was among those that don’t talk much but demonstrate the virtues of God by living it.

Dears, I have experienced what it feels like loosing a loved father and I understand the pain of the family at this time. But as he has ascended to the Abha Kingdom without doubt being welcomed by all his best friends let your heart be consoled. Let the Blessed Beauty send you and the entire family consolation.

I usually knew the short prayer for the departed and the burial prayer. However, after my dear father’s passing while reciting different prayers I came across with the flowing prayer revealed by Abdulbaha. I liked it very much and indeed has helped me. Hence, opted to share you.

O my God! O my God! Verily, Thy servant, humble before the majesty of Thy divine supremacy, lowly at the door of Thy oneness, hath believed in Thee and in Thy verses, hath testified to Thy word, hath been enkindled with the fire of Thy love, hath been immersed in the depths of the ocean of Thy knowledge, hath been attracted by Thy breezes, hath relied upon Thee, hath turned his face unto Thee, hath offered his supplications to Thee, and hath been assured of Thy pardon and forgiveness. He hath abandoned this mortal life and hath flown to the kingdom of immortality, yearning for the favor of meeting Thee.

O Lord, glorify his station, shelter him under the pavilion of Thy supreme mercy, cause him to enter Thy glorious paradise, and perpetuate his existence in Thine exalted rose garden, that he may plunge into the sea of light in the world of mysteries.

Verily, Thou art the Generous, the Powerful, the Forgiver and the Bestower.

‘Abdu’l-Bahá

With love

Asfaw Alemu

Eulogy for Tewolde Woldu

My dear friend, Tewolde Woldu, was a devoted member of the Bahá’í community, first in Asmara, Eritrea, later in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, and most recently in California.

His life was marked by steadfast faith, and a profound commitment to service in the Cause of Bahá’u’lláh.

I hold many cherished memories from a lifetime of friendship with Tewolde, but one story especially reflects the depth of his dedication. While living in Asmara, he courageously responded to the call for pioneers to the Kunama area, one of three regions identified as potential for mass conversion. This call came from the beloved Universal House of Justice to the National Spiritual Assembly of Ethiopia, which at that time included Eritrea.

Together with two other devoted Bahá’ís, Tewolde set out on this mission. He and the friends settled in a village adjoining Awgaro, a former Italian gold mining town. There they built a traditional hut with their own hands and lived as simple farmers. They owned a few oxen and cows and sustained themselves through the harvest of the land, sharing fully in the life of the local community. The two friends remained some time before returning to Asmara. Tewolde, however, stayed the longest.

Through perseverance, sacrifice, and faith, Tewolde worked alongside local believers to establish the first Local Spiritual Assemblies in Awgaro and later in Gerenfit. In time, other outstanding Bahá’ís joined him to help consolidate the many local communities that had been formed. His efforts bore fruit not only in numbers, but in the strength and spirit of those communities.

Tewolde continued to serve with distinction throughout his life. In Ethiopia, particularly in Dessie town in the Wollo Administrative Region, he labored tirelessly for the promotion of the Cause of God. His dedication, generosity, and kindness left a lasting imprint on those who knew him.

Beyond his service, Tewolde was a loyal and wonderful friend to many. His sincerity endeared him to hearts wherever he lived.

May Bahá’u’lláh receive him in His loving embrace and grant his two exemplary daughters, Leleda and Carmel, and their respective families, the bounty and strength to bear their great loss with humility and gratitude.

May his noble soul soar through all the worlds of God in the Abhá Kingdom.

From his friend.

Techeste Ahderom

My grandparents are such an important, treasured part of my life. They are the ones I think of whenever I achieve something big, or when I feel like I need a big hug, because no matter how far away I am, I know that their love transcends all barriers and conditions. This was especially the case with my grandpa, even though we weren’t able to see him much. Something I knew very, very early on is that my grandpa wore his heart on his sleeve. I’ve been told stories of him pushing me around the city of San Diego in a stroller, and I remember how we’d often enjoy each other’s company at many restaurants, parks, and malls. More than the places we went, though, it was how he made me feel in his presence. I don’t think I can fully describe it in words, but it felt like every time I was with him I was at peace, as if I’d presented myself, almost as if I was going to be judged, but then finding acceptance instead. He’d hold such an intense, loving gaze each time he saw me that my heart couldn’t help but clench each time. It is during these moments that I felt the mostinspired to become a greater human being. Not so he could continue to regard me so lovingly, although that was inspiration enough, but so that I could hope to someday reflect even a fraction of his unwavering love to someone else and be the reason they are so, permanently uplifted. And the special thing is, all these things that he made me feel were not spoken. They were looks, actions, and moments that are irreplaceable in my heart. Each time we’d see him, he’d greet us so fondly, and then he would embrace us. These embraces were beyond grandfather and granddaughter saying hello. These were exchanges that confessed his affection, because even at his weakest, he hugged so tightly. He held me so closely that I wondered if he had any energy to spare for himself, and instead of making me feel confined and uncomfortable, they filled my soul with joy. In fact, sometimes I felt so grounded, and often powerless against this joy. So, I hugged him as tightly as I could right back, hoping I could reciprocate these feelings and that he would understand how grateful I was that he had communicated so much to me this way. He is the reason my faith in God is so mighty. He is the reason that love, to me, has not one definition, but many. So as tough as it is to let go, I know without a doubt that his loving soul is at peace in the next world, and that he is not in pain any longer. All the legacies he’s left on Earth surpass all material things and all spoken words, and it is my hope that everyone who met him was just as touched and inherently impacted by his life as his family was.

Your first granddaughter,

Semayan Truesaw

Abate

You are the father that shielded and protected me even before I was able to know myself, continued to be my voice and had dreams for me before I was able to dream for myself. I owe the sweet memories of my childhood and my love for people to you. I saw you loving and giving so much of yourself to me and others around me. You were my father and teacher of life. As I got older, I shared so many of my dreams with you and what I wanted for my life. Each one you listened to and encouraged. I followed them one by one as a testament to what we shared and the authenticity of it all. When we talked about my life and aspirations, you shared how you envision my life for me and subconsciously, I believed you and put you at the heart of every decision. You protected me from the world as the world could be so cruel at times. You knew I thrived in laughter and lived for happy moments. You guarded me from the darkest of things and ensured that my world was filled with brightest of memories. Your influence is felt so strong that I refuse to dwell on the unpleasant things in life. Your voice echoes in me, your laugher in the background makes me laugh and your easy way of life is my guide. You gave me my life and shared yours with me. Most of all you gave me the formula of how to carry forward with or without you. You didn’t think you would leave me so soon, but when the time came you had already prepared me for it.

You shared so much of your life through your lenses and painted a picture of your past that is forever imprinted in me. I felt your childhood, your youth and your adventures and your inner thoughts. I can now go back and live through the memories you shared. Your sacrifice was so clear that I saw first-hand how a father can nurture and shape and guide despite the unpredictable journey called life. Most of all, I saw a father as the anchor of family. Your strength would be my strength.

Your passion for life, your curiosity about the world around you, your trust in humanity and your service to God made your life’s purpose fulfilled. Your life is a book I will read and revisit to complete mine. You meant so much to the world and your family that you are forever our guiding light for generations to come. Let your light continue to shine forever in all the worlds of God.

Your loving daughter,

Carmel

Remembering My Father

By Leleda Woldu

I stand before you today not because I have any inspiring words to share or because I can tell you something new about my father. The truth is, if you are here today, it is because in one way or another you already know who he was. Each of you has your own story, your own memory, your own moment with him. My father lived a full and colorful life, and over the last few days many of you have shared stories about him that have brought our family comfort, humility, and immense pride. Some of the stories we heard were completely new to us. We learned about my father walking someone to a bus station in the pouring rain, carrying their suitcase because his car wouldn’t start—but he had promised to drop them off and he refused to break that promise. That was him. If he said he would do something, he would do it. Rain or shine. We also heard the story of a time when he was wrongfully accused of a crime and imprisoned. Through the courage and integrity of a woman who testified to his innocence, the truth came to light. Her testimony secured his freedom, and the man who falsely accused him was jailed in his place. Hearing that story reminded us of something we already knew: my father lived his life in such a way that when truth needed a witness, people were willing to stand up for him.

We also learned more about his service to the Bahá’í community. How he helped assist in the formation of the National Spiritual Assembly in Eritrea after the referendum, and how fearless he was when it came to serving his faith. And apparently, he also had another talent that many of us did not fully appreciate. He had a knack for matchmaking. We’ve been told he was responsible for several successful marriages. So, if you are happily married today, there’s a chance my dad had something to do with it. But perhaps the most comforting stories have been the funny ones. The things he said. The things he did. The moments that made people laugh. Those stories have been slowly replacing the heaviness of grief with something warmer. Joyful memories that remind us who he truly was.

This morning, I want to share a little about what I will always remember about my dad. My father had a zeal for life that was impossible to ignore. When he spoke, he didn’t just speak. He expressed himself fully. His hands moved with every story, every point, every opinion. His gestures were as alive as his words. Sometimes you didn’t even need to hear what he was saying. You could follow the entire story simply by watching his animated hand movements. And when he had an opinion… he really had an opinion.

My dad held strong convictions about almost everything. Societal turmoil, faith, soccer, history, justice, and sometimes even how strangers should live their lives. His opinions were delivered with such passion and certainty that you sometimes wondered if the matter had already been settled somewhere in the universe and he was simply announcing the final verdict. But underneath that passion was something deeper. A profound sense of justice. My father believed deeply in fairness and truth. When something didn’t feel right, he could not simply stay silent. That fire inside him was not about winning arguments; it was about standing up for what he believed was right. Right or wrong!

As I get older, I realize how much of his essence runs through me. Without even trying, he passed many of his passions on to me. My father loved gardening. When my sister and I were young, we absolutely dreaded being asked to help in the garden. Pulling weeds felt like punishment. At the time, I couldn’t imagine why anyone would voluntarily spend so much time with dirt under their nails. But today, the story has changed. For the last five years, gardening has become one of my greatest joys. When I’m in the garden, something shifts in me. I feel calm, connected, and strangely close to him. I can almost hear him insisting that I grow vegetables instead of “just flowers.” And every time I touch the soil, I’m reminded that even in the smallest ways, his influence continues to live in me.

Another thing I inherited from my dad was his love for dressing well. Weekends in our house often meant one thing: ironing. Lots of ironing. My dad would iron ten or fifteen shirts in a row, one after the other, until every crease was perfect. Then he would line them up neatly on the table and admire his work like an artist admiring a finished painting. At the time, I didn’t fully understand it. But I do remember how incredibly crisp his shirts looked and how proud he was of that small act of care and discipline. Today, while I can’t say I share his enthusiasm for ironing, I definitely inherited his appreciation for personal style. My dad dressed well. Very well. He would wear a suit to a doctor’s appointment or even a trip to the grocery store. For him, life itself was an occasion worth dressing up for. Big moment or small moment, it didn’t matter. His wardrobe was impressive. His shoes were legendary. And he spoke with pride about the tailors who made his suits, some of them over forty years ago. So yes… I definitely get that from him.

Another thing people remember about my dad was his frankness. He spoke his mind. Completely. Sometimes he said things that made me cringe. Things that I thought would definitely offend someone. But somehow… people would laugh. Or nod. Or simply accept it. Why? Because his intentions were always clear. There was never malice behind his words. He spoke honestly, and he allowed others to do the same with him. And that was the remarkable part. He could dish it out, but he could take it too. He held no grudges. None. To say that he had thick skin would be an understatement. He had a rare ability to move forward without carrying resentment. Once something was said, it was done. Life moved on.

About ten months ago, the Tewldemedhin family had a historic reunion. As I was preparing to attend, I told my dad, “Don’t worry, I will represent you.” Without missing a beat he replied, “You represent yourself, not me.” At first, I didn’t fully understand what he meant. But over time I realized it was one of the most powerful lessons he ever gave me. What he meant was: build your own legacy. Walk your own path. You don’t have to live in my shadow. That was his way of letting me know that I was ready.

When I look at my life, I realize it has always been surrounded by kindness from family, friends, community, and even strangers who later became family. And lately I’ve been wondering something. Maybe, just maybe, I am simply the beneficiary of the seeds my father planted over the course of his 88 years on this earth. The love that has surrounded us during this time has been overwhelming. So many of you prayed for him. So many of you extended yourselves in ways that words can hardly capture to support him and our family. Yes, his absence leaves a void in our hearts. But the love you have shown us, today and long before today, will remain with us forever. On behalf of my family, please accept our deepest gratitude. Your kindness, your prayers, your presence. These are gifts we will never forget.

Finally, I want to remind everyone of something very important about my dad.

Daddy loved to laugh. Not a small laugh. Not a polite laugh. He laughed from his core. The kind of laugh that fills a room. The kind of laugh that makes everyone else laugh too, even when you suddenly realize he might actually be laughing at you. But you didn’t mind. Because his laughter carried joy with it. His smile had a way of lighting up a room. And that is the memory I will hold on to. I invite all of you to hold on to it as well. If you ever shared a laugh with Tewolde Woldu, consider yourself lucky. Even if you later realized… you were laughing at yourself. Because if there is one thing my father taught us, it is that a life well lived is not measured by the years we spend on this earth, but by the love, laughter, and courage we leave behind in the hearts of others. And by that measure, my father’s life was truly extraordinary.