Ten days in Ethiopia brought a group of Dubai creatives face-to-face with a remarkable music scene, unexpected friendships and a film collaboration that nobody had planned.

Some arrived knowing almost nothing about Addis Ababa, others had spent years listening to its music, and one of them was returning to the city where he grew up.

In August 2026, Duette Studio brought together creatives from Dubai and beyond for a ten-day cultural exchange in Ethiopia's capital. The itinerary included music schools, art institutions, independent creative spaces and meetings with the people behind them. What nobody expected was that a conversation at Yared School of Music would turn into a film collaboration with Ethiopian musicians just days later.

By the time they left, the group had helped create Dere Dicha, a cultural film celebrating the musical traditions of the Gamo people, met the legendary Mulatu Astatke and discovered a city that was far more difficult to describe than they had anticipated.

As filmmaker Spencer Shea put it, "I'd tell them that there is life before an Ethiopia trip, and there is life after an Ethiopia trip."

So, what happened in those ten days?

Ahmed Newton (I am sure you know him; in Dere Dicha, he served as first assistant director) arrived in Addis Ababa without doing any research. He trusted Fuad and Raha (Duette Studio), who had organised the trip, to put together something interesting. For someone who describes himself as extremely spontaneous, that seemed reasonable enough.

Mona Mostafa, a graphic and fashion designer, had a similarly limited picture of the city. Coffee, jazz and injera were pretty much the extent of her knowledge. What she found was a place overflowing with visual details: old posters, hand-painted signs, fabrics, fashion, stickers covering cars and typography she immediately wanted to photograph.

Some of her favourite memories had nothing to do with the itinerary. She stopped to play biy, a local marble game, with children in a neighbourhood. There was no organised activity or particular attraction to see — just a group of kids playing outside, and Mona joining them for a while.

Then there were the street musicians who would approach people and sing directly to them. According to Mona, some of these performances were essentially musical roasts. Everyone around would burst out laughing, while the visitors had absolutely no idea what had just been said about them.

Ahmed, meanwhile, became fascinated by the flowers growing across the city. He kept photographing them until his friends began pointing out particularly interesting ones. Only on the last day did he learn that Addis Ababa translates to New Flower.

For Nader Al Mahri, co-founder of TRIBEWNOS, that name seemed fitting.

Nader also recognised something familiar. As an Emirati, he noticed how deeply traditions, family connections and cultural roots were woven into everyday Ethiopian life.

For Natasha Carella, the Director of Dubai Design Week, the trip carried a different kind of personal significance. Her father was born in Asmara, her grandfather was Italian, and her grandmother Eritrean. She had grown up listening to family stories and had visited Eritrea before, but this was her first time in Ethiopia. While she was familiar with the region's cultural heritage, she knew far less about the contemporary creative communities shaping it today. Travelling with a group of artists and designers, some of whom she was only getting to know, gave her another way of discovering the city.

Other memories were equally personal. Mohammed Muddisir (TRIBEWNOS team) recalled strangers inviting the group into their homes for coffee. Spencer Shea (co-founder of Rich People Don’t Swim) remembered the busy streets, Toyota pick-ups, construction, greenery and people heading to mosques and churches. Zayed Al Haddar (co-founder of TRIBEWNOS) was struck by the clouds above the city, situated around 2,500 metres above sea level.

Each returned with a different collection of details. None felt photos or online research could have prepared them for the experience.

One of the group's biggest discoveries was how closely Addis Ababa's creative communities were connected, often far beyond conventional galleries and cultural institutions.

For Mona, the National Theatre was a highlight:

At Alle School of Fine Arts & Design, artist Agegnehu Adane guided the group through the institution, where Raha discovered rooms filled with paintings by generations of artists and students.

The group discovered a creative scene sustained by close relationships.

At Fabrica, musicians they had met elsewhere arrived to support fellow performers. At Fendika Cultural Center, they spent time with Melaku Belay, learning how the space supports artists and artisans, including opportunities to sell their work without paying commission. The evening at Fendika moved from vinyl records and an Ethiopian coffee ceremony to live music, with different performers joining the stage.

Arthur Du Peuty, the Paris-based co-founder of Rich People Don't Swim, was struck by the same sense of community.

For Fuad, who was born in Addis Ababa and later moved to Dubai, these encounters had another dimension. He was introducing friends to his hometown while discovering how much he still had to learn about it. Meeting people running cultural spaces also gave him new perspectives on Duette+, the cultural project he has developed in Dubai.

The more people they met, the clearer it became that Addis Ababa's creative scene was built as much on relationships as on individual talent.

Music was one thing almost everyone expected from Addis Ababa. What surprised them was how deeply it shaped the city's everyday life.

Mona heard singing and saw dancing in restaurants and on the streets. Arthur encountered young musicians combining traditional Ethiopian sounds with contemporary influences. Mohammed discovered the history behind music he had previously known mainly through recordings.

One of the trip's most significant stops was Yared School of Music, where the group met musicians, lecturers and researchers dedicated to studying and teaching Ethiopia's musical traditions.

For Raha, who frequently listens to Ethio-jazz while painting, the visit was especially personal. She met Ato Tekleyohannes Zikie, introduced as the school's first student and still a teacher there, alongside lecturers Ato Eyob Alemayehu and Ato Belay Chernet. The group also met Jorga Mesfin, the director of Ethio Jazz at Yared School of Music, and Henok Temesgen, the founder and manager of Admas Band.

They learned about Saint Yared, the sixth-century figure traditionally credited with establishing Ethiopia's sacred chant tradition, and the different musical systems that developed in the country.

Spencer was particularly fascinated by learning about Ethiopian musical notation, which differed from the European system he had studied growing up.

Raha also experienced an unexpected connection:

For Natasha, what made Yared particularly memorable was the generosity of the people they met. Even though the visit took place during the summer holidays, members of the faculty made time to speak with the group, explain their work and share their knowledge.

The visit helped the group understand Ethiopia's musical history as something actively taught, performed and developed. It was also where they met Eyuel Mengistu — and where the trip took an entirely unexpected turn.

Eyuel Mengistu is an Ethiopian musician, producer, researcher and lecturer whose work focuses on the country's indigenous musical traditions. In 2022, he and singer YEMa started From the Field to the Stage, an initiative connecting traditional musicians with contemporary recording and performance opportunities while supporting the continuation of their practices.

Among the musicians involved is Tsaleke, a collective of more than 30 performers from the Gamo community. Led by Mengistu Tsige, the group has practised Gamo music for over two decades, with many members also working in traditional weaving and garment making.

Eyuel had been working on Dere Dicha, a traditional Gamo folk song about peace, unity and development. His arrangement combines Gamo melodies and vocal traditions with contemporary instrumentation and reggae influences, featuring vocalists Soze Somane, Zerfu Zenebe and Dergu Gebre.

He had also begun developing a cultural film with Ethiopian director Surafel Tibebu, known as Susu.

For Natasha, who joined the group for the first few days, meeting Eyuel was one of the most memorable encounters of the trip. She was particularly struck by his decision to leave his position as director of Yared School of Music to dedicate himself to field research.

When the team learned about the project at Yared School of Music, they offered to contribute their skills.

Just days after their first conversation, the musicians, filmmakers and visiting creatives found themselves working together on Dere Dicha. Many had never met before, and there was barely any time to prepare. But what could have been a logistical nightmare became one of the most memorable experiences of the trip. Everyone brought something different to the table, and somehow, it all came together.

For Ahmed, the most memorable part was how quickly strangers began working together. Different people, different disciplines and different ways of working, yet everyone seemed to understand what needed to be done.

Crucially, the film grew from work that Eyuel, Surafel and the musicians had already begun. The visiting team brought additional skills to an existing Ethiopian project rather than creating a new one around the traditions they had encountered.

The result was a film running just over five minutes — and a collaboration that none of the participants had anticipated when they arrived.

There was another encounter that became one of the trip's defining moments: meeting the musician widely recognised as the father of Ethio-jazz.

The group spent two hours with him at African Jazz Village, listening to stories about his career, his music and the people who had influenced him.

For some, it was an opportunity to meet an artist whose records they loved. For Fuad, it was something much more personal.

He had first discovered Mulatu around the age of eight or ten, through his radio programme in Addis Ababa. Until then, Fuad had thought of jazz as mainly American or Ethiopian. Mulatu's broadcasts introduced him to music from Vietnam, Eastern Europe and places he knew little about.

Decades later, Fuad was sitting opposite the musician who had opened up the world to him as a child, surrounded by friends he had brought from Dubai.

For Mohammed, the encounter felt almost unreal. He had spent much of the trip learning about Ethio-jazz and visiting the places where it continued to be performed. Now he was sitting with the person whose work had helped establish the genre.

Raha, who had previously seen Mulatu perform in Sharjah, was particularly moved by his advice.

The encounter even had an unexpected continuation back in Dubai. Raha and Fuad's son, Adam, who had joined the visit, began experimenting with Ethiopian music on the piano after returning home. He started exploring the four main Ethiopian pentatonic modes, known as kiñit: Tizita, Bati, Ambassel and Anchihoye.

Dere Dicha was presented at an invitation-only screening at Cinema Akil in Dubai. For Fuad, seeing an audience in Dubai engage with the project confirmed interest in continuing the exchange. But he is equally conscious of the responsibility that comes with sharing another community's cultural traditions.

Natasha returned with a similar question about representation. Ethio-jazz may be Ethiopia's most internationally recognisable musical export, but it is only one part of a much wider musical landscape, shaped by different communities, languages and traditions.

For her, the trip also highlighted the potential for greater cultural exchange between Addis Ababa and Dubai. Despite their geographic proximity and historical connections across the Red Sea, she believes there is room for more sustained collaboration between contemporary creative communities.

The making of Dere Dicha offered one example of how that might work. A visit to a music school became a conversation, the conversation became a film, and the people involved are now considering what else they might create together.

For Fuad, returning to his hometown was also a reminder that being from somewhere doesn't mean you have finished discovering it. For the others, the trip brought new friendships, different perspectives and plenty of reasons to return.

And for anyone in Dubai wondering whether Addis Ababa is worth visiting, Mohammed has fairly straightforward advice: "Great music, great food, and even better people. Besides that, catch next flight to Addis."

Judging by what happened to this group, it might be worth leaving a little room in the itinerary for the unexpected.