By John Powers | Boston Globe

BOSTON, USA — He had been among the leaders in the middle of the hills in Boston three years ago, but couldn’t finish. He had the Olympic bronze medal in hand coming into the stadium last year, but ended up fourth. This time, Deriba Merga vowed, he would be the last lion.

And so he was yesterday afternoon as the 28-year-old Ethiopian pulled off an impressive upset in the 113th Boston Marathon, ending Robert Cheruiyot’s three-year reign as men’s champion with an easy 50-second victory over Daniel Rono, Cheruiyot’s Kenyan countryman.

It was only the third men’s victory here for the Ethiopians, who would have swept the men’s and women’s races if Kenya’s Salina Kosgei hadn’t nipped defending champion Dire Tune at the tape. But the men’s race was decided 5 miles from the finish.

“I had full confidence to win the race from the beginning,” said Merga, who ran alone from Heartbreak Hill to Copley Square into a stiff headwind and finished in 2 hours 8 minutes 42 seconds, dashing the dreams of both Cheruiyot and Ryan Hall, who had hoped to be the first American victor here in 26 years.

“Would I have liked to win? Yeah,” said the 26-year-old Californian, who finished 8 seconds behind Rono in 2:09:40, the seventh-fastest time by a domestic runner here and the best in 15 years. “Did I think I had a legitimate shot? Of course. But a lot of guys have legitimate shots and don’t win.”

Most notable among them yesterday was Cheruiyot, the four-time champion who was bidding to become the first to win four straight here. But he fell out of sight after leading midway through, dropped out at Cleveland Circle, and was taken to St. Elizabeth’s Hospital to be checked out.

Unlike the women’s race, which could have been mistaken for a holiday fun run until the final few miles, the men had a demanding outing, with the lead pack dashing through the first 9 miles in course-record time. Setting the pace was Hall, who dashed away at the gun and stayed in front for almost the entire first third of the race.

“My plan was to run my own race from the get-go,” he said. “I like to run fast.”

Not since Cheruiyot’s record run (2:07:14) in 2006 had the leaders gone out that aggressively. They were through the opening mile in 4:40, 19 seconds under the old split, in three at 14:05 (50 under), in six at 28:27 (37 under).

“I wanted to make it a full 26-mile race and not let it come down to the final 10K,” Hall said. “I wanted to make it an honest race.”

At the half marathon, even after a persistent and chilly headwind had picked up significantly, there still were a dozen men jockeying in the lead pack, most of them warily glancing sideways at each other.

“I was thinking that the race would start at halfway,” said Rono, who finished third in New York last year.

When it still hadn’t by the time the runners reached Newton Lower Falls, former champ Timothy Cherigat and Stephen Kiogora took off on their own heading up the Route 128 overpass.

That sounded the alarm for Merga, who had planned to make his move during the “Haunted Mile” on the flats after Boston College, but decided he had to do it even before the firehouse turn that leads into the Newton hill country.

“There are a lot of strong athletes with us,” he said. “If I didn’t push, maybe I didn’t have a chance to win.”

So Merga quickly took it up a gear, with countryman Solomon Molla and Rono following. Just that quickly, it was a three-man race. Cheruiyot, who used to chew up his rivals around that point, had vanished.

“At 18K, he is coming from behind,” Merga said. “After that, he did not come. I think this day is not for him.”

Three other men – Clarence DeMar (1925), Bill Rodgers (1981), and Cosmas Ndeti (1996) – tried to win four in a row here and found that it was not their day. Once Merga concluded that Cheruiyot was finished, he made sure that nobody else could stalk him. So he put his head down, charged up the first hill, and dropped Molla. He pounded up the second and rid himself of Rono.

When he reached the crest of Heartbreak, Merga looked over his shoulder and saw nothing but blacktop. Rono was nearly half a minute behind. When Merga glanced backward again at Coolidge Corner, 2 miles from the finish, he realized there were no more lions to deal with.

“I am looking behind,” he said, “and there is nobody behind of me.”

Rono, who was making his Boston debut, was satisfied with second.

“Boston is the toughest of all,” he said. “I was very happy to secure my position.”

And Hall, who had dropped to 11th coming out of Wellesley Hills, was content with the late, if extraordinarily painful charge, that put him on the podium.

“My day will come,” he declared, “and I’ll be back.”

This is a race that rewards persistence. Rodgers dropped out of his first Boston before winning four times.

“I was learning the marathon,” Rodgers said, “and Boston is a cruel place to learn it.”

Merga’s Boston debut in 2006 ended 2 miles short and his experience at Olympus, where countryman Tsegaye Kebede outkicked him, was dispiriting. But after he destroyed the Houston course record in January, Merga sensed it was his year. Yesterday, he knew it was both his and his country’s day.

“Boston is one of the biggest marathons in the world,” said the man from Addis Ababa. “Because of that, our people are very happy.”

OROMIYA, Ethiopia (UNFPA) — If you were to visit 65-year-old Ayatu Nure and his family at their compound in the Oromiya region of Ethiopia, you would probably find eight of Ayatu’s 12 wives harvesting banana roots for dinner, while chasing after their combined 78 children. At first glance, this unlikely family appears carefree — but a closer look reveals that many of Ayatu’s children are hungry, possibly even malnourished. Their main source of food — banana roots — doesn’t provide much nutrition, but unfortunately this is the only thing Ayatu can afford.

In this remote, densely-populated region of Ethiopia, it is common for men to have multiple wives. In Ayatu’s case this tradition has backfired. Years ago, he had enough land and food to satisfy everyone’s needs. This changed when Ayatu had to sell land or cattle to make the dowry payment for each new wife he took, usually a sum of between $500 and $1,000. Now, the family compound is almost bare from overgrazing, two of his wives have moved with cattle in search of greener pastures, and two others died from unknown illnesses in the 1990s. The situation is so desperate that Ayatu cannot afford to send his children to secondary school, and he is marrying off two of his 15-year-old daughters to ensure they are fed. Thirteen others are living with their married siblings.

Living with two wives and eight children in a neighbouring town is Ayatu’s eldest son, Dagne. Dagne said he and his father made a mistake by taking more than one wife and blames it on a lack of education, “Men and women don’t have the knowledge of birth spacing or the desire to seek this information,” said Dagne.

Ayatu’s family is enormous by any standards. In Ethiopia, having at least five children per mother is the norm. “The population is growing at a rate of 2.7 percent annually, said Dr. Monique Rakotomalala, the Ethiopia representative for UNFPA, the United Nations Population Fund. With the population of the country now at 73 million, she is concerned. “That means two million new people every year.” At this rate, the population could double over the next 24 years, severely stretching existing resources. Dr. Tedros Adhanom Ghebreyesus, Ethiopia’s Minister of Health, says the secret is smaller families. “We have to educate our communities and tell them the benefits of smaller families because it will bring a better quality of life to each household.”

To assist families like Ayatu’s, the Government of Ethiopia has launched a network of 29,000 health extension workers to teach both men and women about family planning and provide contraceptives to those who want to delay childbearing. So far, two of Ayatu’s wives are using long-term implants. Many women in remote villages opt for this method because of the distance between their homes and health centres. Yet, health extension workers visiting families in this pastoral landscape also face difficulties as they have to walk long distances to reach one household, and sometimes lack sufficient stock to meet the demands of many communities.

Ayatu admits he failed to acknowledge the consequences of having such a large family, and wants to be a role model for young people so they will not make the same mistake. “I wasn’t educated,” said Ayatua. “Nobody asked me. Nobody told me of the consequences”.

By Fekade Shewakena

It is Monday morning after Ethiopian Easter Sunday. I was driving to work in a juicy Washington spring weather. It was raining heavily and I was in a crowded traffic when the ring tone of my cellular phone, a Teddyi Afro’s song that I have set up to use until he gets out of prison, was playing off the hook. One call was from my daughter. “Hi Fekadye it is a sad day in Ethiopia today, have you heard that {www:Tilahun Gesesse} passed away? It is sad. I know you will cry but cry not too much ok” and she hung up. Then a friend and then another confirmed the sad new to me. It was a surreal feeling. Alone, in a far away land on a highway; not an ideal place to hear stunning news of the death of a man that I love, admire and consider my country’s treasure and icon. These are some of the times where you hate “sidet”, a time you hate to live away from the people you want to be in the middle of, and share pain and grief together.

Tilahun has many times made me uncontrollably emotional while listening to his songs and watch him sing. I never imagined he would lead me to uncontrollable tears at the news of his passing away too. I parked on a shoulder and cried profusely. It was a good time and place to cry. Everyone was rushing to work and no one was looking, but who the damn cares even if anybody looks at you. They are passerby and I was crying for something larger than whatever a ferenji passerby may be thinking I was crying about. I felt like I was crying not for Tilahun alone but for an entire era that he takes away with him. From where I was, I saw my country coiling in sadness, so sad as if she doesn’t have enough of sadness already. I even imagined that the mountains of Ethiopia that echoed Tilahun’s songs through the flutes of sheep and goat herders were silent in sadness.

Five full decades of failure to replace one super star, I often joked, is a sign of the slow sociocultural dynamism in Ethiopia. I am probably wrong on this one. Tilahun was simply unsurpassable.

There was everything from Tilahun’s beautiful voices for all times and generations of Ethiopians. His gift straddles the generations of my daughter, me and my father and probably beyond. There was also everything for every humanly feeling in those voices. Just tell me what you need and I will pick a song for you from Tilahun. Whether you are sad, you are in love, happy, or raved up by patriotism, there was something for you in the voices of Tilahun. He was, after all, the soundtrack of all our lives for so many years. It is hard to stop traveling in memory lane back in our lives and remember songs like “engudaye neshi”, “Yegeter Temir nesh” and who would forget that 1974 song “waay Waay silu” about the famine victims which he sang along with a river of tears flooding his face. That was something that tells you that Tilahun not only had a wonderful voice but also a wonderful heart too.

As a member of the generation raised by his songs I have tons of memories of Tilahun. I have not yet had grasped the fact that he died. I know he is mortal, but I looked like a little foolish to think that he will never die. But then again, I may probably am half right. Tilahun may never die. He is going to be physically absent no doubt. But he will continue to live in our households. I have the treasures he left in my library.

There is some lesson for all of us in the life of this great legend. Any one of us making significant contributions to positively affect the lives of our people and country and still die physically can continue to live as Tilahun definitely will. People who do something greater than themselves live forever. Work for our people, fight for their freedom and change their lives. You will live long after you died. That is the moral of Tilahun’s life and story. I am still crying but some half of me tells me the right thing to do now is to celebrate Tilahun’s wonderful life and gift to all of us.

Goodbye Tilahun! Thank you for the wonderful gift you left us behind! It has been such a long time of hard work. Now take a break from singing and rest in peace! Goodbye my dear! Goodbye!!

An interview with Tilahun Gessesse’s wife Wzr. Roman Bezu indicates that his life could have been spared on Sunday had he received timely medical care in Addis Ababa.

{www:Tilahun Gessesse} arrived in Ethiopia from the U.S., where he was receiving treatment, on Sunday, April 19, to celebrate Fasika, the Easter Holiday.

Wzr. Roman said that on Sunday evening when Tilahun started to complain about shortness of breath, she put him in a car and headed for Bete-Zata Clinic to get him an emergency treatment.

Bete-Zata could not even give Tilahun oxygen as he cried out that he could not breath. The doctor on duty told Wzr. Roman that he is not a heart specialist and suggested another clinic. What kind of medical doctor doesn’t know about stabilizing a patient until a specialist arrives?

Wzr. Roman accepted the Bete-Zata doctor’s suggestion and headed to the other clinic without making sure how to get there — and she got lost. By the time she found the clinic, Tilahun was too weak, unable to breath.

Click here [pdf] to read the interview with Roman Bezu.

Tilahun’s inability to get emergency medical treatment in a timely manner exemplifies the extremely poor state of health care in Ethiopia under the {www:Woyanne} tribal junta regime. After all, it is the same regime that murdered the country’s world renowned surgeon Professor Asrat Woldeyes by depriving him of medical treatment.

While mourning Tilahun’s untimely death, let’s also remember the countless other Ethiopians who are dying every day for lack of the most basic health care in Ethiopia, as the parasite regime spends hundreds of millions of dollars to buy weapons that are used to brutalize the people of Ethiopia and Horn of Africa.

The shameless Woyanne regime officials may decide to attend Tilahun’s funeral ceremony Wednesday for their own political reasons. Tilahun’s friends and fans need to use the occasion to demand the release of Teddy Afro, another Ethiopian music icon who has been thrown in a filthy prison cell for singing about justice, peace and unity.