Once hailed as part of a new generation of reformist African leaders, Eritrea’s president, who recently marked 32 years in power, has long defied expectations.

Isaias Afwerki now spends much of his time at his rural residence on a dusty hillside some 20km (12 miles) from the capital, Asmara.

With the cabinet not having met since 2018, all power flows through him, and like a potentate he receives a string of local officials and foreign dignitaries at his retreat.

It is also a magnet for ordinary Eritreans hoping in vain that Isaias might help them with their problems.

The 79-year-old has never faced an election in his three decades in power and there is little sign of that changing any time soon.

But things looked very different in the 1990s.

Isaias was 45 when, as a rebel leader, his Eritrean People’s Liberation Front (EPLF) defeated Ethiopia in 1991. Those who fought in the war are remembered each year on Martyrs’ Day, 20 June.

Tall and charismatic, he inspired hope both at home and abroad.

In 1993, following formal independence, Isaias appeared on the international stage as head of state for the first time.

It was in Cairo, where he attended a continental leaders’ summit, that he lambasted the older generation of African leaders “who wanted to stay in power for decades”.

He vowed that Eritrea would never repeat the same old failed approach and promised a democratic order that would underpin the social and economic development of his people. His stance won him plaudits from Eritreans and diplomats alike.

Riding the euphoria of the early years of independence and enjoying a glowing international reception, Isaias sought closer relations with the West.

In 1995, after inviting the Eritrean leader to the Oval Office, US President Bill Clinton expressed appreciation for the country’s strong start on the road to democracy.

Eritrea had just begun drafting a new constitution expected to establish the rule of law and a democratic system.

Isaias was supposed to be a “transitional president” until a constitutional government was elected. The new constitution was ratified by a constituent assembly in May 1997.

But just as Eritreans and the world were expecting national elections in 1998, war broke out between Eritrea and neighbouring Ethiopia over a disputed border.

Isaias was accused of using the war as a justification to postpone the elections indefinitely.

He had promised a multiparty democratic system and his resolve was tested after a peace agreement was reached in 2000.

Several of his cabinet ministers, including former close friends and comrades-in-arms, began to call for reform.

In an open letter issued in March 2001, a group of senior government officials, who later became known as the G-15, accused the president of abusing his powers and becoming increasingly autocratic. They called for the implementation of the constitution and national elections.

Starting from the mid 1990s, Eritreans had tasted some freedom, with emerging newspapers carrying critical voices — including from within the ruling party, that had been renamed the People’s Front for Democracy and Justice (PFDJ).

The transitional national assembly had decided when elections would take place, an electoral commission was being formed and proposed political party laws were under debate.

The country seemed to be on a slow path towards democratisation.

However, this fragile opening abruptly closed in September 2001, while the world’s attention was focussed on the 9/11 attacks in the US.

In a single morning, the authorities shut down all independent newspapers, effectively silencing critical voices. Many editors and journalists were detained and never seen again.

Simultaneously, the government arrested 11 of the G-15, including three former foreign ministers, a chief of staff of the armed forces and several members of the national assembly. They have not been seen or heard from since.

The hopes of many Eritreans were dashed.

But Isaias had already moved away from introducing democratic changes.

“I had never had any intention of participating in political parties,” he said in April 2001.

“I don’t have any intention of participating in a political party now, and I won’t have any intention of participating in a political party in the future.”

He also described the democratic process as a “mess”, saying that the PFDJ was “not a party. It is a nation”.

For many, it became clear the president would not allow democratic reforms to take hold.

The silencing of critics and the failure to hold elections, earned him and his country pariah status.

However, his supporters say he was unfairly targeted by Western nations and praise him as a symbol of national liberation.

In 2002, he unofficially dissolved the transitional assembly that was meant to hold him accountable and in effect did the same with the cabinet in 2018.

Some aging ministers with no real authority now lead weak government agencies, and several ministries – including defence – remain without ministers.

Many wonder why the independence hero took such a repressive turn.

Abdella Adem, a former regional governor and senior ambassador, says Isaias never believed in democracy and has always been obsessed with power. He led the EPLF with an iron fist even before independence, according to Mr Abdella, who now lives in exile in London.

“He systematically weakened and removed leaders with public legitimacy and struggle credentials who could challenge his authority.”

To some surprise, in May 2014, Isaias announced plans for a new constitution, later saying that the constitution ratified in 1997 was “dead”. But no progress has been made since then.

The proposal to write a new constitution may have been triggered by an attempted coup by senior military officers in 2013.

They drove tanks into the capital and seized control of national TV and radio stations for several hours.

Realising the attempt was failing, they tried to broadcast a call to implement the 1997 constitution and release political prisoners. But security forces pulled the plug mid-broadcast.

Many officials – including the mines minister, a governor, diplomats and a general – were detained. The leader of the coup killed himself to avoid arrest.

Zeraslasie Shiker, a former diplomat, left his post in Nigeria and sought asylum in the UK. His boss, Ambassador Ali Omeru, a veteran of the independence war, was later detained and remains unaccounted for.

Governments that lock people up “like Isaias Afwerki’s do not allow genuine political and social institutions or the rule of law”, says Mr Zeraslasie, now a PhD candidate at the UK’s Leeds University.

“The indefinite suspension of Eritrea’s constitution and the collapsing of government institutions into the office of the president must be understood in this context.”

Isolated internationally, Isaias withdrew from the global stage. He stopped attending summits such as the UN General Assembly and African Union meetings.

The country’s economy has “struggled”, according to the World Bank’s assessment last year.

“Economic activity is constrained by underdeveloped infrastructure, limited competition due to state dominance, and strict import controls,” the authors said, adding that the financial sector remained “weak”.

Isaias himself acknowledged problems in an interview with state TV in December last year.

“A subsistence economy will lead us nowhere. Currently, we are not in a better position than many other African countries in this regard,” he said.

Isaias also refuses humanitarian aid, citing fears of dependency that would undermine his principle of “self-reliance”.

For many Eritreans, especially young people trapped in indefinite national service, which the authorities justify because of a series of conflicts and tense relations with its neighbours, daily life is a nightmare. Under a repressive regime, they face a future with little hope or freedom.

Disillusioned by the lack of political progress and exhausted by forced conscription and state violence, many risk their lives to escape in search of freedom.

Over the past two decades, hundreds of thousands have fled, crossing deserts and seas to find safe haven. Eritreans are currently the third most common nationality to be granted refugee status in the UK.

In his independence day speech last month, Isaias gave no hint of any of the changes many Eritreans hope to see. There was no mention of a constitution, national elections or the release of political prisoners.

At the same time there was no concrete plan to turn round the country’s moribund economy.

Despite criticism at home, President Isaias retains support among parts of the population, particularly within the military, ruling party networks and those who view him as a symbol of national independence and resistance against foreign interference.

The president also has strong backing among some in the diaspora, who believe Western powers are conspiring to undermine Eritrea’s hard-won independence.

As frustration grew in Eritrea, Isaias retreated from Asmara in 2014 to his home that overlooks the Adi Hallo dam whose construction he closely supervised.

As Isaias nears 80, many fear what could happen next.

An apparent attempt to groom his eldest son to succeed him was reportedly blocked at a 2018 cabinet meeting, since when no further meetings have been held.

But there is no obvious succession plan or a credible opposition in the country who could replace the current regime, leaving many to find it hard to imagine a future without Isaias.

“The president’s office is what’s holding the country from collapse,” warns Mr Zeraslasie.

During this year’s Easter holiday, Isaias was seen kissing a cross during a church mass in Asmara. Some believe he is seeking spiritual redemption, others hope he may release political prisoners.

For now, however, Isaias remains firmly in control, while Eritreans continue their long and anxious wait for change.