Купити для Ezedin Fedlu каву

My mom used to carry me on her back to school every day because the roads and the school itself weren't accessible for my wheelchair.

I'm Ezedin Fedlu, and I've never shared this story publicly before.

I was three when the accident happened. One moment I was a little boy running around Addis Ababa. The next, I was learning what a wheelchair meant for the rest of my life.

The roads were broken. The school had stairs everywhere. The world wasn't built for me. But my mother decided that didn't matter.

Some nights we went to bed hungry. But my parents never let me go to bed without hope. My mother would whisper prayers over me. My father would tell me stories about heroes who conquered mountains.

They saw something in me that I couldn't see in myself.

The bullying was brutal. Kids can be cruel when they don't understand. Adults weren't much better. I wanted to quit school a hundred times.

But every morning, my mom was there. Ready to carry me on her back again.

Years later:

I graduated from Addis Ababa University with a degree in Software Engineering. The accessibility issues in Ethiopia pushed me toward remote work. I spent years working remotely for companies in Israel, Switzerland, Italy, and the USA.

Last year, I moved to Sweden to work for Volvo Cars in person. For the first time in my life, everything I need is accessible. Ramps everywhere. Elevators that work. Sidewalks I can actually use.

It's beautiful. And it breaks my heart that Ethiopia doesn't offer the same opportunities for people like me.

But the real victory isn't my job. It's that the little boy who once felt broken learned he was actually being built into something stronger.

I stayed quiet about my story because I thought it made me different.

Now I realize it makes me useful.

Every line of code I write carries the weight of those stairs my mother climbed. Every problem I solve honors the faith my family never lost.

To anyone fighting their own mountains: you're not broken. You're being built.

What would you tell that scared version of yourself if you could?