Portrait, Why 
Samson Yemane
Gives me Hope 

I met Samson a few years ago through our shared work on systemic racism. Over time, we have collaborated on various projects, but most of all we enjoy debating on political and societal issues linked to systemic change. Born in 1992, Samson's professional path is striking, not just because of his achievements, but because of the odds he had to overcome to get there.

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Today, he is an elected official in the city of Lausanne (Switzerland), serving as a municipal councilor. He is also Vice-President of the Swiss Federal Commission against Racism, where he helps shape national policies and narratives on discrimination and equality. Beyond that, he holds a key position at the Swiss Refugee Council (OSAR), working on policies and advocacy for refugee rights. In addition to his institutional roles, he is a recognized voice in Swiss media, writing for various newspapers about racism, migration, and the experiences of Eritrean communities in Switzerland.​

 

But what is most surprising about Samson is that nothing in his early life suggested he would be where he is today. He was born in Asmara, Eritrea, into a middle-class, relatively privileged family. His life changed forever one afternoon when, returning home from school, his mother greeted him with a smile and said, “We’re going on holiday.” Naively, Samson wondered whether he was really allowed to take a holiday in the middle of the school week. Like any child, he felt excited.

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That night, as they stepped into the car, the atmosphere felt different. The tension was palpable. His father, finally breaking the silence, announced: “We are leaving Eritrea for good.” His father explained that he, and by extension the family - his parents, seven-year-old brother, and four-month-old sister - were being targeted by the police. They had no choice but to flee.

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The Journey of Exile​

 

Leaving everything and everyone behind, without a chance to say goodbye, Samson and his family first fled to Khartoum, Sudan, where they lived for almost a year. From there, they embarked on a treacherous desert crossing to Libya, crammed into vehicles carrying 40 to 50 people each.

 

When Samson speaks about the desert, his voice changes. The journey lasted nearly a month. One day, it was announced that one of the three vehicles had broken down. The smugglers gave an ultimatum: those who wished to continue had to pay more. A grim silence followed. Everyone understood what this meant for those who could not afford to move forward. The situation quickly descended into chaos: people argued, fought, wept. Samson’s parents were able to pay the additional fee, allowing them to continue. Days later, his mother told him the truth: those who had been left behind did not survive.

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Samson recalls feeling lost, overwhelmed by a sense of injustice. Even today, he struggles to reconcile that moment. It was, perhaps, the first time he truly understood how arbitrary survival could be. Those with money could live. Those without, even in matters of life and death, could not. It was also, in a crude way, an early lesson in the absurdity of life. 

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In Libya, life was different. Unlike in Sudan, where they had a semblance of freedom, they now experienced direct violence and racism. One day, while playing outside, Samson was suddenly pelted with stones by local people. His family was forced into cramped living conditions, sharing a small 6m² room in an overcrowded apartment. Their economic and social status had been erased. Yet, even in these conditions, Samson found ways to process his emotions, mostly by letting them out when no one was around. He admits that even now, he struggles to openly express what he feels. 

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Then came the sea crossing.​

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For three days, they waited in a storage space with around 300 others before being packed onto trucks. His father, despite missing a leg from the Eritrean War of Independence, ran as fast as he could, clutching his children as they rushed toward the boats. In the chaos, Samson was separated from his father and panicked, screaming in terror. Eventually, they were reunited on a larger fishing vessel. He spent the journey violently seasick, until finally, after two days, he saw the Italian coastline.

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People began shouting, celebrating. Samson remembers stepping onto land with a feeling he could only describe as “an indescribable sense of strength”. The belief that, after all they had endured, they had finally reached a place of peace.​

 

Yet their journey was far from over. Months of living in Italian shelters followed, then time spent on buses, then a brief period in Sweden before asylum regulations forced them back to Italy. Finally, they arrived in the small Swiss town of Moudon. Samson recalls the first time a school friend invited him to a birthday party. It was a small moment, but perhaps the first sign that hope, a real future, was possible here.​

 

From Survival to Action

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Samson went on to study political science, in a language that was not his own, while never ceasing to act for justice. He worked as an entertainer in his local neighborhood, supporting youth from low-income backgrounds. At university, he co-founded the first Afro-descendant student association at the University of Lausanne. And from there, his work only expanded into what he does today.

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What is most striking about Samson’s story is in fact not its harrowing details, but how common this experience of exile is. Every day, thousands of people flee their homes, simply because home is no longer livable. And yet, despite the scale of displacement, many stories like Samson’s remain unheard of. The first casualties of an unsustainable world are always those forced into exile and their subsequent stories forced into silence.​

 

And yet, there is radical hope in Samson’s story. Given the opportunity, he never stopped building. He turned his grief and sorrow, his confrontation with the world’s injustice, into action. And that makes one think: if we truly recognized the value of welcoming, including, supporting, and protecting people like Samson, we would understand that the most vulnerable are often the most resilient. They know how to resist when resistance is necessary. They know how to create out of nothing. They know how to adapt, innovate, and build when the world needs new solutions. They can imagine hope where there is none.

 

Samson is a perfect example of this. Since I’ve known him, I have seen him act, tirelessly and instinctively, because he believes it is the right thing to do. He writes articles denouncing injustice, bridges communities, actively builds local political life, listens to people, and gets involved at every level. He never stops. Even when he recently received serious death threats, he continued his activism and political work with grace.

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What is remarkable about him is not just his resilience, but his openness and empathy. In Switzerland, where political change often requires consensus-building, Samson has mastered the ability to engage with those who do not think like he does. That is not easy to do when you have personally suffered the consequences of the political choices of those you disagree with. Yet, somehow, he continues to approach people with a human and empathetic eye.​

 

One Step at a Time

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Sometimes, I wonder how he keeps going. And then I remember his journey. If someone has survived crossing land and sea, it is because they have learned never to stop putting one foot in front of the other.

 

He often speaks about how fearful he was, yet his parents instilled in him the belief that he was courageous. And so, even with fear in his heart, he kept moving forward.

 

Maybe that is the lesson we should all take from his story. In a time that feels like crisis, when the world seems to be unraveling and we struggle to recognize our home, it is easy to get lost in fear, anger, or despair. But a crisis is not managed by surrendering to the emotional frenzy it creates. It is faced by taking action: one step at a time.​

 

If you just put one foot in front of the other, before you know it, you will have crossed a desert of climate collapse and a sea of rising conflict. Until, one day, without even realizing it, life, society, and history will have evolved into a peaceful land.