Chapter Eleven - Fall of the Lion

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Fall of the Lion

IT DIDN’T HAPPEN with guns blazing or crowds storming the palace.

It happened with papers.
And keys.
And a quiet knock at the emperor’s door.

In September 1974, after months of protests, mutinies, strikes, and whispers, the Derg made their move.

They didn’t declare war.
They declared revolution.

And just like that, the reign of Haile Selassie I — King of Kings, Elect of God, Conquering Lion of the Tribe of Judah — was over.

They removed him without ceremony.
No trial. No verdict. No public spectacle.

He was escorted out of the palace.
Placed in a beat-up blue Volkswagen.
Driven through the city he once ruled.

And locked in a small, guarded room.

Just like that.
Gone.

For the first time in modern history, Ethiopia had no emperor.
It had a military council. A junta. A fist instead of a crown.

The Derg wasted no time:

• They abolished the monarchy.
• Seized imperial assets.
• Nationalized land.
• Purged aristocrats.
• Silenced journalists.
• Executed dissenters.

It wasn’t a clean revolution. It was a bloodbath in slow motion. And Selassie? He was kept under house arrest in his own former palace, watched by guards half his age.

He was 82.
Still regal. Still composed. Still wearing the dignity of 3,000 years.
But inside? Alone.

His dogs were taken. His personal staff dismissed. His meals rationed.
They stripped him of everything but his beard and memory.

On August 27, 1975, the news broke:
Haile Selassie was dead.

The official report said “natural causes.”
No further details.

The world raised an eyebrow.
No photos. No funeral. No coffin.

Just a quiet announcement from a junta known for torture.

For decades, the truth was buried — literally.

Until, years later, a former Derg officer came forward.
He told the real story.

Selassie had been suffocated in his sleep with a pillow.
By order of the Derg.
His body buried in the palace… beneath a bathroom.

A slab of concrete covered the site.
No marker. No name. No honor.

The Conquering Lion of Judah, hidden under a toilet.

And yet…

The silence didn’t last.

Because myths don’t need proper graves.
And emperors don’t stay buried forever.

Outside Ethiopia, his legend kept growing.
In reggae lyrics. In murals. In Rasta chants.
In the hearts of those who still whispered “Jah lives.”

Selassie was gone.

But not dead.