Ethiopia celebrates its distance runners, the athletes who carry the nation's flag at Olympics and world championships. But in a cramped, open-air space in Addis Ababa, Daniel Tadesse is building something different: a future for table tennis, one child at a time.
Tadesse, who once represented Ethiopia and played for the Commercial Bank of Ethiopia club, had his own Olympic ambitions. When the elite level proved out of reach, he made a choice that speaks to a deeper problem across the continent: if the state won't invest in sports infrastructure, individuals will have to.
Since 2019, Tadesse has trained more than 100 children in table tennis, entirely free of charge. Thirty active players now train six days a week in his program, working with worn equipment in an unroofed facility. "If he couldn't be the best player Ethiopia ever produced," according to Sands Mash, "he'd build the path for someone who could."
The program nearly collapsed during COVID-19. It survives on donations of old rackets and balls from clubs and retired players abroad. In Ethiopia, where table tennis balls are expensive and difficult to source, Tadesse can't afford the multiball training sessions essential for rapid skill development.
This is not a feel-good story about one man's generosity. This is a story about the gap in state sports infrastructure that forces athletes like Tadesse to fill it themselves.
Ethiopia's government invests heavily in distance running because it delivers medals and national pride. But for sports without a guaranteed return, there is little support. No public youth sports centers. No equipment subsidies. No development pathways for athletes in minority sports.
"The transformation is holistic," Tadesse told the publication. "Beyond their backhands and forehands, I see improvements in self-respect, mutual respect among peers, communication skills, and self-confidence."
Players like Bitaniya Senay, 15, and Biruk Alex, 14, are benefiting from training that should be a public service, not a private charity. The question is not whether Tadesse's work is admirable. The question is why it has to exist at all.
Across sub-Saharan Africa, similar stories play out in football academies, swimming clubs, and gymnastics programs run by individuals filling the void left by underfunded national sports systems. When China and Gulf states invest in African sports infrastructure, they do so with an eye toward diplomatic influence. When African governments invest, they prioritize sports that already win medals.
What gets lost are the children who could excel in other disciplines, if only they had access. What gets lost is the infrastructure that builds not just athletes, but confident, disciplined young people.
Tadesse started with one battered table, a handful of old rackets, and a conviction that Ethiopian children deserved better. He's proven what's possible with almost nothing. The question remains: what could be possible with genuine state support?
54 countries, 2,000 languages, 1.4 billion people. Tell me which 'Africa' you're asking about.
