By Befikadu Eba

You know the scene. You have just had a fantastic meal at that popular butchery in Bole, the one everyone whispers about. The meat was sublime, the atmosphere electric. The bill comes, you pull out your phone, and the waiter gives you a number. You look for a business name, but it’s just a personal name—”Abebe Lemma” or “Selamawit Tesfaye.” You raise an eyebrow, and the waiter just shrugs with a practiced, reassuring smile. “It’s the same,” he says. So you transfer the money, walk out satisfied with the meal, but with a nagging feeling that something was off. You have no receipt, just a digital trail leading to an individual, not the bustling enterprise you just patronized.

Walk a little further, to a legendary spice shop in the same area. You buy a kilo of berbere that promises to be life-changing. The payment process is the same. A mobile number scribbled on a piece of paper, a transfer to a personal account. No paper trail, no official record of the sale. It is just between you, the shopkeeper, and their personal bank account.

Then there is the more sophisticated version. You go to a renowned eatery in Piassa, a place with a reputation that draws crowds. This time, they seem official. They present you with a receipt, even one with a barcode. Feeling a sense of civic pride, you scan the code, expecting to see the company’s details. Instead, your phone screen flashes a disheartening message: “Organization does not exist.” When you point this out, the manager’s smile doesn’t falter. “Oh, the system has a problem,” he will say smoothly. “For now, you can just transfer to this number.” And the alternative, once again, is a personal mobile money account.

What we are witnessing here, in the daily commerce of Addis Ababa, is not just a minor logistical hiccup. It is a brazen, systematic, and widespread campaign of tax evasion, hiding in plain sight. These are not back-alley operations; these are often well-known spots, some owned and run by formal Private Limited Companies. They have the legal structure of a serious business but operate in the shadows when it comes to their financial responsibilities. The question that screams for an answer is a simple one: in a country straining to build its future, why is this allowed to continue?

Let me be clear about what is happening. When you transfer money to a waiter’s personal Wallet account, that revenue effectively vanishes from the official economy. It becomes untraceable for the tax authorities. That transaction will never appear on the company’s sales ledger. It will never contribute to the Value Added Tax (VAT) that is baked into the price you pay. It will never be counted as profit for corporate income tax purposes. The entire transaction, no matter how large, becomes a secret between the business and the customer, with the state deliberately cut out of the loop.

The excuse often given is one of convenience. “It’s faster.” “The business account is complicated.” But this is a smokescreen. The real mission here is to evade. Every birr transferred to a personal account is a birr stolen from the collective purse. It is a birr that does not contribute to the roads we drive on, the public schools our children attend, the hospitals we rely on, or the lights that keep our cities bright. It is a direct diversion of resources away from the nation’s development and into private pockets, with a blatant disregard for the social contract.

The irony is as thick as the injera at these establishments. Consider the contrast. A salaried civil servant, a teacher, or a nurse has every birr of their income meticulously accounted for. Pay-AsYou-Earn (PAYE) tax is deducted at source, with no escape. There are no personal accounts to hide behind. Similarly, larger, more regulated corporations and those dealing with these corporates – operate under the constant gaze of the tax authority. Their books are audited, their invoices are serialized, and their bank statements are scrutinized. They cannot afford to play these games. So we have created a bizarre two-tier system: one set of rules for the salaried employee and the formal large business, and a wild west for a segment of the lucrative hospitality and retail sector.

This is not a victimless crime. The impact is profound and felt by every single citizen. When these high-turnover businesses opt out of their tax duties, the government’s revenue target faces a shortfall. This creates a vicious cycle. To meet essential budgetary needs, the tax authority is forced to squeeze those who are already compliant – the salaried workers and the large corporations. Tax rates for the visible economy may rise, further burdening the honest and creating a sense of injustice that corrodes the social fabric. It also punishes compliant small businesses, who operate at a competitive disadvantage because they are actually paying the taxes their rivals are dodging.

So, what is to be done? The call for the tax authorities to “do the needful” is not just a whisper; it is a public demand for fairness and justice. The beautiful, and perhaps tragic, thing about this digital age is that it leaves a trail. The very technology that enables these personal transfers also has the potential to expose the fraud. Imagine a simple, targeted enforcement campaign.

Undercover officers could dine at these establishments, make the transfers to the personal accounts, and keep the receipts as evidence. The ERCA could then collaborate with financial institutions to follow the digital money trail. If a single personal mobile money or bank account is receiving hundreds of payments a day, often in round figures matching menu prices, it does not take a forensic accountant to deduce that this is not personal pocket money but disguised business revenue. The law provides for severe penalties for such acts: massive fines, back-payment of all evaded taxes with interest, and even criminal prosecution and closure of the business.

But enforcement alone is not the only answer. The government must also make compliance easier. Simplifying the process for businesses to obtain and use certified electronic cash registers (ECRs) that directly report to the ERCA would be a start. Promoting business-grade mobile money accounts that are seamlessly linked to the tax system is another. There needs to be a public awareness campaign, educating customers to demand valid, barcoded receipts and to be wary of transfers to personal accounts. We, as consumers, have a role to play. By accepting these shady payment terms for the sake of convenience, we become complicit in a system that ultimately robs us all.

The situation in Addis Ababa’s eateries and shops is a microcosm of a larger national challenge. It is a test of our commitment to building a fair and equitable society. It is a choice between a future where everyone pays their fair share for the common good, or one where the privileged and the cunning operate by their own rules, leaving the burden of nation-building on the shoulders of the salaried and the compliant. The next time a waiter gives you a personal account number, remember that you are at a crossroads. You are not just paying for a meal; you are being asked to participate in a system that is undermining the very foundations of your country. It is time we all demanded the receipt.

Befikadu Eba is Founder and Managing Director of Erudite Africa Investments, a former Banker with strong interests in Economics, Private Sector Development, Public Finance and Financial Inclusion. He is reachable at befikadu.eba@eruditeafrica.com.