Hello, and welcome to my page!
I’m Billion Temesghen, a multilingual journalist, editor, and passionate storyteller from Eritre, on a mission to be part of the storytelling and documenting process: to be part of the storytelling and documenting process. In this section of my blog, I want to share a little bit about myself.
Since childhood, I have been drawn to narratives that matter—stories that highlight resilience, address challenges, and explore aspirations. Growing up in the 1990s and 2000s, a time of significant global and regional shifts, I witnessed firsthand how stories shape public consciousness and inspire action. Even early in my life, I began to cultivate an understanding. Whether in the context of Eritrea’s post-independence journey or broader discussions on Africa’s evolving role on the global stage, I innocently delved into conversations that fostered analysis and knowledge.
I always knew that the key to progress is asking the right questions and making the answers accessible to those who seek understanding. In many ways, that eventually became my life’s mission. Some people work to find cures for diseases; others develop technologies that connect the world, and so on. My path? Driving meaningful conversations—whether at work, in the newsroom, in research, or simply around a table with friends. Therefore, I don’t take the platforms I’ve accessed as a journalist and communicator for granted because I know firsthand the power of being able to stir conversation by asking the right questions.
But how did I get here? …
Mine was a childhood shaped by real stories and awareness.
I am the first daughter of two incredible parents who dedicated their youth to Eritrea’s struggle for independence and fighting colonial oppression. They were deeply committed to equality, believing that every person, regardless of gender, race, religion, or nationality, has the right to live with dignity and justice. Their activism didn’t stop when Eritrea gained independence. Having been children of war themselves, they carried their experiences forward—not just through resistance in their youth but by dedicating their lives to speaking against injustice wherever and whenever.
They believed that no child was too young to understand the consequences of disregarding human dignity. In our home, education didn’t just mean schoolwork; it meant awareness. Instead of typical children’s entertainment, they introduced me and my siblings to documentaries, literature, and art with profound social messages. They tirelessly explained historical and political contexts to us in ways we could understand, even though it took significant effort to open children’s minds to history. Most importantly, they introduced us to the news.
For my parents, raising children who rejected racial supremacy and embraced global equality wasn’t just an idea—it was their mission. Although this mission required great focus and dedication, they were determined to make it a reality within the walls of our home. And as the eldest, I was the first to experience their experiment in raising socially conscious children.
As far back as I can remember, news was at the center of our daily routine. My parents made sure I read and watched the news from a young age, and strangely, I, more than my siblings, genuinely found it fascinating. Bedtime always came after the 8 o’clock news in Tigrigna on national television. I still remember the distinct style of the anchors—the big hairstyles, the square glasses, the slightly yellowish sepia-toned broadcasts. Memories.
Each morning, my fathere would hand me my mother’s newspaper and ask me to read it out loud. I was just a kid, barely understanding half of what I was reading, but looking back, maybe he had a feeling that something was taking root.
While my friends and cousins were captivated by fairy tales and enchanting stories, I found myself immersed in headlines. My curiosity leaned towards politics, history, and the world around me, leading to endless questions—oftentimes the most mundane of them all. Luckily, Mom and Dad were more than happy to help me explore on my own.
They were indeed patient and relentless. They answered every single “why” and “how,” nurturing my curiosity. I particularly loved going to my father with questions, not just again because I didn’t understand everything but because I noticed and appreciated that every question led to another and another and another… His answers were never short; they branched into more profound and richer explanations in simple words, sometimes leading to stories from his childhood. And that may be one of my most cherished memories with Dad.
Over time, I realized that asking the right questions was like having a superpower. It opened doors to resourceful conversations. It’s like sending a bucket to draw from a well of information, knowledge, sentiments, memories, history, criticism, etc., returning with a bucket full of diverse and rich material. Whether I talk philosophy with my brother, discuss policy evaluation insights with my sister, explore the experiences of friends and colleagues, or sit in front of guests for my Q&As or around a panel, I know how to ask the one question that would ignite an engaging conversation discussion.
Listening deeply, making connections, and understanding different perspectives became second nature. Today, those same qualities define my work.
Even though I’ve loved news from a young age, there was a time in my teenage years when I didn’t think that I’d eventually become a journalist. When we’re young, dreams can take you in all sorts of directions. So, in high school, my focus was on literature and creative writing—philosophical essays, poetry, and scriptwriting, those types of things. My Spanish teacher, Prof. Montesanto, nurtured that passion by sharing booklets on screenwriting and filmmaking. He even gifted me my first tripod. Since there were no local film schools, I taught myself until my national service assignment led me to the Ministry of Information in Eritrea.
That was where everything clicked. I met veteran journalists—the same ones I grew up watching—and they became my mentors in the newsroom, reigniting my love for storytelling through news. They trained me, challenged me, and shaped my skills. I was also fortunate to learn from many remarkable visiting international experts.
Looking back, it almost feels like everything—my father’s insistence on my reading and following the news, my relentless curiosity, my early love for storytelling—was leading me here all along.
That is why I love what I do, and I hold on to ways to upgrade my profession through different mediums with great intention– it is, after all, a career born from a longstanding passion.
This website is not a tell-all of what I do as a news editor and communication expert. It is a curated portfolio of my past journalistic work, spanning over a decade in Eritrea. While I am currently working as a news editor in Europe, the pieces showcased here reflect my earlier experiences and work in the field. In time, I might add op-eds; we will see.
I believe that highlighting my past work, which centers on analyzing political dynamics and the rich history of Africa—especially the Horn of Africa—and presenting these narratives in ways that both inform and empower could serve as a great introduction to my professional background. Despite changes in the setting of my work, I continue to be involved in socio-political communication, current events, and news in Europe. I also plan to expand into documentary filmmaking.
For years, I have quietly collected stories in my notes—stories of everyday people who defy the odds and challenge societal norms. I want to explore the complexities of human life and the socio-political forces that shape it. Therefore, whether you’re here to explore my work, collaborate on impactful projects, or start a conversation, I appreciate you stopping by. If you share my passion for social justice, history, politics, and global events, let’s connect.
Together, we can amplify voices that matter and craft stories that leave a lasting impact.
Thank you for visiting. I hope you enjoy exploring my work.