The Unbreakable Spirit: The Role of Oromo Women in the Liberation Struggle
By Our Special Correspondent
History often remembers the faces of revolutionaries as male—the generals, the politicians, the spokesmen. Yet, in the Oromo liberation struggle, this narrative is not merely incomplete; it is a profound erasure. For decades, Oromo women have been the backbone of the movement, serving not only as its supporters but as its leaders, its strategists, its fighters, and its soul.
Their contributions span the political, the military, the cultural, and the social. They have organized protests, taken up arms, preserved a threatened culture, and sustained communities through the darkest hours of conflict. And they have done so while facing a double oppression—as members of a marginalized ethnic group and as women in a patriarchal society.
This is their story—a story of courage, resilience, and an unyielding commitment to freedom.
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The Historical Foundation: Resistance Rooted in Tradition
The role of Oromo women in resistance is not a modern phenomenon. It is deeply rooted in the traditional structures of Oromo society. Within the Gadaa system—the indigenous democratic governance framework that has guided the Oromo for centuries—women exercised influence through institutions like the Siiqqee, a women’s assembly that ensured gender balance and protected women’s rights.
During the 19th-century colonization of Oromia by Abyssinian forces, Oromo women actively resisted displacement, land confiscation, and cultural erasure. Their resistance was both direct and indirect, often taking the form of cultural preservation—passing down language, traditions, and memory to subsequent generations. This cultural defiance laid the groundwork for the political and armed struggles that would follow.
The Siinqee Tradition: A Philosophy of Resistance
Central to understanding the role of Oromo women is the Siinqee—a traditional Oromo women’s institution that symbolizes unity, resistance, and empowerment. It is more than a cultural artifact; it is a lived practice of mutual protection among Oromo women, a covenant of resistance against all forms of oppression.
Scholar Martha Kuwee Kumsa has developed this into a formal framework known as Siinqee Feminism—an Oromo philosophy of womanhood and solidarity that predates Western feminist thought. It offers a unique lens through which to understand how Oromo women mobilize to foster solidarity and challenge oppressive systems. The Siinqee is not merely an academic concept; it is a living tradition that continues to empower women in the struggle for liberation.
Political Leadership: Organizing and Advocating
Oromo women have been active in political movements for decades, serving as leaders, organizers, and advocates within organizations such as the Oromo Liberation Front (OLF) and other nationalist groups. They have organized protests, participated in negotiations, and represented the Oromo cause on national and international platforms.
The Qeerroo movement—the youth-led protests that shook Ethiopia from 2014 onward—saw women at the forefront. One female leader from Sebeta, known as “Chali,” recalled: “People who did not understand how the 2015 Oromo protest was organized tend to give credit to the diaspora. We were the ones”. These protests, which began in response to the Addis Ababa Master Plan, evolved into a broader movement against systemic marginalization. Women were not merely participants; they were architects of the resistance.
The Armed Struggle: Taking Up Arms
Perhaps the most striking testament to the commitment of Oromo women is their participation in the armed struggle. Many have joined the Oromo Liberation Army (OLA) , the armed wing of the OLF, taking up arms to defend their people and land.
For some, joining the armed group was described as “a refuge from a state that persecuted Oromo womanhood and identity”. A former OLA fighter reflected on her decision to move from political organizing to the bush: “I felt most welcomed in my Oromoness when I took the erbuu [oath] with bullets and our flag in the bush… At least in that moment, I was safe in my belonging”. Another former mobilizer explained: “I knew I was born into a social justice struggle; I’ve never had an identity or childhood separate from this oppression. My development, at a basic level, was formed around Oromoness”.
Beyond combat, women have provided critical logistical support to the armed struggle—supplying food, shelter, and medical care to fighters, and acting as messengers and intelligence gatherers, often at great personal risk.
The Diaspora: A Global Struggle
The Oromo women’s struggle is not confined to the borders of Ethiopia. In September 2020, Oromo women marched through the streets of Berlin, Germany, demanding recognition for their struggle. This protest march, called a Hiriira in the Oromo language, was a powerful statement of solidarity and resistance, linking the struggles of Oromia to global movements against oppression.
Cities across Germany have been sites of prolific organizing and resistance against the Ethiopian state, as seen in archival documents from the 1970s declaring “Freiheit für Oromiya”. Many of these activists are now elders in the Oromo community, still fighting for liberation today.
Guardians of Culture: Preserving Identity
In times of displacement and cultural erasure, Oromo women have been the guardians of their people’s identity. They have preserved and promoted Oromo language, traditions, and cultural practices. Through ceremonies like Irreechaa (Oromo Thanksgiving) and the passing down of oral traditions, they have kept Oromo identity alive across generations.
This cultural preservation is not a passive act; it is a form of resistance. By maintaining their language and traditions in the face of assimilationist policies, Oromo women have ensured that the struggle for freedom has a cultural foundation to build upon.
The Weight They Carry: Challenges and Sacrifice
The contributions of Oromo women have come at an immense cost. They face what scholars describe as “double oppression”—marginalization as Oromo people and as women. They have endured violence, displacement, and loss, yet they remain steadfast in their commitment to the struggle.
In the armed conflict, women have been particularly vulnerable to sexual violence and exploitation. Within their own communities, their voices are sometimes marginalized in political and social spaces. Despite these challenges, they continue to push for gender equality within the liberation movement itself, challenging patriarchal norms and advocating for women’s representation in leadership roles.
The Unfinished Struggle: A Vision for the Future
The struggle for Oromo liberation is far from over, and the role of women within it continues to evolve. As one analysis notes, “Oromo women have fought not only for national liberation but also for gender equality”. The movement’s true liberation will not be complete until the voices of women are fully included in leadership and decision-making.
As Martha Kuwee Kumsa’s work reminds us, we must “draw inspirations from the lived experiences of Oromo women and how they mobilise Siinqee feminist practices to foster solidarity”. Their resilience, courage, and vision offer a blueprint not only for the Oromo struggle but for movements for justice everywhere.
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The story of the Oromo liberation struggle cannot be told without honoring the women who have sustained it, led it, and sacrificed for it. They are the fighters, the organizers, the mothers, the scholars, and the guardians of a people’s soul.
They have shouldered the weight of history and refused to break. Their unbreakable spirit is the heartbeat of the Oromo struggle—and a reminder that true freedom is never won without the full participation of women.
“Namni waan hin beekne hin dhaabatu” — One who does not know does not stand firm. And the women of Oromia know—they know their history, their worth, and their power.
Two and a Half Centuries of Freedom: Oromo Americans Celebrate America’s 250th Independence Day
From the shores of Lake Minnetonka to the bustling streets of Minneapolis, Oromo Americans across Minnesota have marked the Fourth of July with profound gratitude—celebrating not just a nation’s birthday, but the freedoms they have found in their adopted homeland.
A Celebration of Freedom, Democracy, and Resilience
The spirit of the Fourth of July was unmistakable across Minnesota’s Oromo community. Families gathered for barbecues, community picnics, and cultural celebrations—but beneath the festivities lay a deeper resonance. For Oromo Americans, Independence Day is more than a national holiday. It is a testament to the values they have embraced and the opportunities they have secured.
“We had a wonderful holiday, and we have captured the true spirit of the holiday: freedom, democracy, and resilience.”
This sentiment echoes across the community. For many Oromo Americans, the Fourth of July carries profound meaning—not just as a celebration of American independence, but as a reflection on the liberties they now enjoy compared to the struggles their families endured in Oromia.
The Weight of Gratitude: Freedom Found and Valued
For those who have fled political repression, persecution, and conflict, the freedoms of the United States are not abstract concepts. They are lived realities—the ability to speak one’s mind without fear, to worship freely, to pursue education and opportunity, and to participate in the democratic process.
“Freedom and democracy are indeed precious gifts, and it’s incredibly moving to hear how much we appreciate the liberties we’ve found here in the United States of America, compared to what our family or ancestors experienced back home in Oromia.”
These words capture the immigrant experience at its most profound: the recognition that freedom is not guaranteed, that democracy is fragile, and that the rights enjoyed in the United States are the result of centuries of struggle, sacrifice, and commitment.
Honoring Sacrifice: Those Who Made It Possible
Independence Day is also a time to honour those who have fought to protect the values of freedom and democracy—both in America and in the homelands left behind.
“The sacrifices made by the military and generations of leaders to protect those values are exactly what today is all about.”
For Oromo Americans, this recognition is twofold. It honours the American soldiers and leaders who have defended liberty across two and a half centuries. It also honours the Oromo freedom fighters, activists, and community leaders who have struggled for justice and self-determination in their homeland—often at great personal cost.
250 Years of Democracy: A Milestone Worth Celebrating
This year’s Fourth of July holds special significance: the United States is celebrating its 250th anniversary of independence.
“Just a quick, friendly note on history: the United States is actually celebrating its 250th anniversary of independence this year (1776 to 2026), two and a half centuries of this grand democratic experiment.”
Two hundred and fifty years is a remarkable milestone for any nation. It represents generations of Americans who have built, defended, and renewed the democratic experiment. It is a testament to the resilience of democratic institutions, the power of constitutional governance, and the enduring belief that all people are created equal and endowed with certain unalienable rights.
For Oromo Americans, this anniversary is particularly meaningful. It is a reminder that democracy, though imperfect, can endure. It is a source of hope for the future of their homeland. And it is an invitation to be part of the ongoing American story.
Becoming Part of the American Story
“Thank you for sharing the moment and being part of the American story.”
These words carry a profound invitation. The American story is not complete—it is still being written. And Oromo Americans are among those writing it.
From community leaders to small business owners, from students to professionals, from artists to activists, Oromo Americans are contributing to the fabric of American life. They are bringing their culture, their resilience, and their hopes to a nation that has welcomed them. They are honouring their heritage while embracing their new homeland.
The Big 250: How Are You Celebrating?
As the fireworks light up the Minnesota sky, as families gather around tables filled with traditional American fare and Oromo dishes, the question resonates:
“How are you and your family celebrating the big 250th today?”
For some, it is a quiet reflection—a moment to consider how far they have come and what they have overcome. For others, it is a jubilant celebration—a time to dance, to feast, and to give thanks. For all, it is a recognition that freedom is a gift to be cherished and protected.
Looking Forward: Freedom for All
As Oromo Americans celebrate the 250th anniversary of American independence, their celebrations are tinged with hope—hope that the freedoms they have found in the United States will one day be available to their families and communities back in Oromia.
The Fourth of July is not just about the past. It is about the future—the ongoing struggle for justice, equality, and freedom for all people, everywhere. And in that struggle, Oromo Americans are playing their part.
Happy 250th Independence Day to all Americans—and especially to the Oromo community in Minnesota, who remind us all that freedom is a precious gift, never to be taken for granted.
Minnesota’s Oromo community celebrates with gratitude, reflection, and hope—honoring two and a half centuries of American democracy while looking forward to a future of freedom for all.
The Ordeal of the Informed: What the Oromo Struggle Demands of Its Participants
By Our Special Correspondent
The question is deceptively simple, yet its answer carries the weight of generations: What should an Oromo person know before participating in and contributing to the Oromo struggle?
In the current climate of heightened political consciousness, young Oromos—and indeed, Oromos of all ages—are increasingly drawn to the movement for recognition, justice, and self-determination. The passion is palpable. The urgency is real. Yet, passion without preparation is a recipe for disillusionment, and urgency without understanding can lead to fragmentation.
To participate meaningfully in the Oromo struggle is to undertake an ordeal of the informed. It requires more than emotion; it demands historical literacy, strategic clarity, ethical grounding, and profound personal readiness.
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The Burden of History: Knowing Where You Stand
The first and most critical requirement is a deep, unflinching engagement with Oromo history. The struggle did not begin yesterday, nor will it end tomorrow. It is a continuum stretching from the 16th-century expansions, through the colonial-era subjugation of the 19th century, to the suppression of the Mecha and Tulema self-help association in the 1960s, and into the armed and civil resistance movements of the modern era.
An informed participant must understand the 1974–1991 armed struggle, the subsequent political transitions, and the unfulfilled promises of the 1991 transitional charter. They must grapple with the complex legacy of the Oromo Liberation Front (OLF), the rise of the Qeerroo movement, and the ongoing debates about federalism versus confederalism, or reform versus revolution.
Without this historical grounding, one risks repeating mistakes, falling prey to opportunistic narratives, and confusing tactical setbacks with strategic defeat.
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The Identity Question: What Does Oromummaa Mean?
Beyond history lies the deeper question of identity. What does it mean to be Oromo in the 21st century? Oromummaa—the essence of Oromoness—is often invoked but rarely examined.
The informed participant knows that Oromummaa is not a fortress of ethnic exclusivity. Historically, the Oromo nation has been remarkably inclusive, absorbing and assimilating diverse groups through the Gadaa system. The Oromo struggle, at its most principled, has never been about the domination of others but about the liberation of the self and the renegotiation of Ethiopia’s political compact.
The participant must therefore guard against the dangerous slippage from self-determination to ethnic supremacy. The struggle’s moral authority derives from its demand for justice, not its assertion of superiority. An Oromo who participates without understanding this distinction may find themselves perpetuating the very cycles of marginalization they seek to end.
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Strategic Literacy: Understanding the Political Terrain
The Oromo struggle operates within a complex federal system, characterized by overlapping jurisdictions, competing nationalisms, and a federal government that views regional assertiveness with suspicion.
An effective participant must understand the constitutional framework—its strengths and its profound weaknesses. They must know the difference between Article 39 (the right to self-determination) and the practical mechanisms for its implementation. They must comprehend the limits of regional power, the manipulation of ethnic federalism by federal actors, and the ways in which the current system simultaneously empowers and constrains the Oromo nation.
Strategic literacy also demands an understanding of allies and adversaries. The Oromo struggle does not exist in isolation. It intersects with the struggles of the Somali, Sidama, Wolaita, and other nations. It engages with the Amhara political project, with movements for religious freedom, and with the international discourse on minority rights. To participate blindly, without mapping this terrain, is to navigate a minefield in the dark.
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The Tools of Struggle: Armed Resistance, Civil Disobedience, and Political Engagement
The Oromo struggle has employed multiple modalities: armed resistance, civil disobedience, political party engagement, and international advocacy.
The informed participant must ask themselves: What is my role? Not everyone is called to the battlefield—whether literal or metaphorical. The liberation of a nation requires lawyers as much as it requires fighters, educators as much as activists, diplomats as much as demonstrators.
The participant should understand that these modalities are not mutually exclusive but often complementary. The armed struggle may create political space for negotiation, and civil disobedience may exert pressure that armed resistance cannot. Conversely, an over-reliance on any single approach can lead to stagnation or fragmentation.
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The Ethical Dimension: Means and Ends
Perhaps the most overlooked aspect of political participation is ethics. The struggle for justice must be conducted justly.
The informed participant knows that violence against civilians, extrajudicial detention, and the suppression of internal dissent within Oromo ranks undermine the very legitimacy of the cause. They understand that the Oromo struggle is fundamentally a moral claim; if that moral claim is advanced through immoral means, it corrodes itself from within.
Moreover, the participant must be prepared for the long haul. The struggle is not a sprint; it is a marathon that may well outlast the participant’s lifetime. Patience, resilience, and the ability to sustain hope in the face of setbacks are not optional virtues—they are essential equipment.
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The Personal Cost: What Participation Really Means
Participating in the Oromo struggle is not a badge of honor to be worn lightly. It carries real costs: the risk of imprisonment, the loss of employment, the strain on family relationships, the psychological toll of witnessing injustice and state violence.
The informed participant calculates these costs soberly. They do not romanticize martyrdom but prepare for the possibility of sacrifice. They build support networks. They plan for the psychological and material consequences of their involvement.
This is not a counsel of fear but of maturity. The struggle is too important to be undertaken by those who have not counted the cost.
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Unity in Diversity: The Unfinished Conversation
Finally, the participant must understand that the Oromo struggle is not monolithic. There are debates—vigorous, sometimes bitter debates—about strategy, ideology, leadership, and the relationship with the Ethiopian state.
An informed participant enters these debates with humility and respect. They recognize that difference of opinion is not treachery, and that the movement’s strength lies in its ability to accommodate diverse voices while maintaining a common front on the fundamental principles: the inviolability of Oromia, the centrality of Afaan Oromo, the governance model of Gadaa, and the recognition of Finfinnee and Diree Dawa as integral to Oromo identity and Ethiopian federalism.
They understand that to participate is to contribute to an unfinished conversation—a conversation that will shape not only the future of the Oromo but the future of Ethiopia itself.
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A Personal Reflection
As one elder activist put it, “The struggle is not about what we take from others; it is about what we build for ourselves and our children. It is about reclaiming our dignity and offering it as a gift to the nation we share.”
To participate in the Oromo struggle, then, is to embrace a profound responsibility. It is to carry the weight of history, to navigate the complexities of the present, and to dream, with clear eyes, a future of justice and peace.
The informed participant does not ask, What can the struggle give me? They ask, What can I give to the struggle—and through it, to Ethiopia?
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In the words of a famous Oromo proverb: “Namni waan hin beekne hin dhaabatu”—One who does not know does not stand firm. In the Oromo struggle, knowledge is not just power; it is the very ground upon which one stands.
The Unbroken Struggle: A History of Oromo Resistance and the Quest for Justice
From ancient freedom to colonial subjugation and the ongoing fight for self-determination, the Oromo people’s journey is a testament to resilience, sacrifice, and an unyielding commitment to justice.
A History of Freedom, Before the Fall
“Ummanni Oromoo otuu garbummaa jalatti hin kufiin dura nagaa fi bilisummaan jiraachaa ture.”
Before the shadow of subjugation fell upon them, the Oromo people lived in peace and freedom. Their culture, identity, and faith flourished without external interference, guided by the principles of the Gadaa system, the wisdom of their elders, and a deep connection to the land.
The Oromo identity was not a burden—it was a source of pride. The Oromo language was spoken freely, traditions were celebrated openly, and the community governed itself through indigenous institutions that predated the modern state. The Oromo were not merely inhabitants of their land; they were its custodians, its protectors, and its soul.
The Conquest: A People Forcibly Subjugated
“Haata’uutii, sirni Habashaa erga Oromiyaa humna qawween cabsee gabroomsee hiree ummata Oromoo roorroo jalatti kufe.”
This era of autonomy came to a violent end with the expansion of the Abyssinian (Habasha) imperial system. Through military conquest, the Oromo people were subjugated, their lands seized, and their social and political structures dismantled. The once-proud people were reduced to subservience, forced to labour for those who had conquered them.
Yet the Oromo did not simply accept their fate. “Ummati Oromoo garuu karaa danda’e maraan sirnicha faccisuu hin dhiifne ture.”—The Oromo people never ceased their resistance, using every available means to challenge the oppressive system. Whether through scattered uprisings, covert resistance, or open rebellion, the spirit of defiance remained alive.
The Systematic Erasure of Identity
The conquest was not only military—it was cultural, linguistic, and spiritual. The occupiers understood that to control a people, one must control their identity.
Land Dispossession: “Erga Oromoon humna Habashaa jalatti kufee kaasee lafti Oromoo kan abbootii lafaa ta’e, namni Oromoo lafa isaa irratti ciisanyaa ta’ee warra garboonfataa tajaajiluu ta’e.”—After the Oromo fell under Abyssinian control, the land that had belonged to their ancestors was taken from them. The Oromo became tenants on their own soil, forced to serve those who had dispossessed them.
Identity Erasure: “Eenyummaan Oromoo haalamee, maqaan jibbamaa fi tuffatamaa itti kenname.”—Oromo identity was systematically undermined. A derogatory name was imposed upon them, stripping them of the dignity of self-identification.
Language Suppression: “Afaan Oromoo akka afaan hojii fi barnootaa hin taane dhorkamee, Afaan Amaaraan akka tajaajilamu godhame.”—The Oromo language was banned from education and official use, replaced by Amharic. Generations of Oromo children were educated in a language that was not their own, severing their connection to their linguistic heritage.
Cultural and Religious Persecution: “Aadaa fi amantiin Oromoo ifaan akka dhorkamu labsiin dhorkame.”—Oromo culture and the indigenous faith of Waaqeffannaa were explicitly prohibited. Traditional practices were suppressed, and the sacred Odaa tree—the symbol of Oromo spirituality and governance—was targeted for destruction.
Systematic Marginalisation: “Gidiraa fi roorroon hamaan ummata Oromoo irratti fe’ame. Oromoon karaa hundaa akka boodatti hafu imaammanni mootummaa tolfamee irratti hojjatame.”—A comprehensive policy of marginalisation was implemented, ensuring that the Oromo would remain economically, politically, and socially subordinate in their own land.
The Seeds of Organised Resistance
“Kun booda keessa Oromoota dammaqoo fi quuqama sabaa qaban waan aarseef tooftaa addaddaan finciluu eegalan.”
Yet oppression breeds resistance. Among the Oromo, a new generation of awakening emerged—individuals and groups who refused to accept their subjugation. They recognised that open, armed rebellion alone would not succeed against a powerful state. Instead, they organised through alternative structures: mutual aid societies, development associations, and religious organisations.
“Ifatti bifa siyaasaan ijaaramnii qabsoo gochuun waan hin danda’amneef karaa waldaalee walgargaarsaa, waldaalee misoomaa fi waldaalee amantii jalatti gurmaa’anii waldammaqsuu fi sirna garboonfattuu Habashaa mormuu fi falmuu itti fufan.”
These organisations became the vehicles through which Oromo consciousness was nurtured, resources were mobilised, and resistance was sustained—often hidden in plain sight.
Historic Uprisings: The Legacy of Resistance
The history of Oromo resistance is marked by significant uprisings that shook the foundations of the Abyssinian state:
The Raayyaa Uprising: A rebellion in the Raayyaa region that demonstrated the Oromo people’s willingness to fight for their freedom despite overwhelming odds.
The Baalee Peasant Revolt: The farmers of Baalee rose up against oppressive land policies, demanding the return of their ancestral lands and an end to feudal exploitation.
The Maccaa-Tuulamaa Movement: The historic alliance between the Maccaa and Tuulamaa Oromo groups represented a unification of forces against a common oppressor, setting the stage for broader Oromo nationalism.
These uprisings were not isolated incidents—they were expressions of a collective will that refused to accept subjugation as the natural order.
The Birth of Modern Oromo Political Organisation
“Qabsoon diddaa garbummaa karaa addaddaa adeemsifamaa ture kan gurmaa’ee bifa qindoomina siyaasaa qabuun adeemsifamuu eegale ijaarsa ABO kan bara 1970moota keessa finiinaa tureen ture.”
The scattered resistance of the past gave way to a new era with the formation of the Oromo Liberation Front (OLF) , initially established as the Oromo Liberation Front (ABO) in the 1970s. The creation of ABO represented a watershed moment: Oromo resistance was now organised, unified, and operating with a clear political vision.
“Ijaaramuun ABO akka qabsoon Oromoo bifa gurmuu qabu godhatee adeemu godhe. Oromoota shira gita bittootaan addaan qoqqodamanii turan walitti deebisee akka Oromiyaaf gaaddisa tokko jalatti qabsaa’an godhe.”
ABO brought together Oromos who had been divided by region, clan, and class, uniting them under a single banner for a common cause. It gave the Oromo people a voice on the national and international stage, asserting their rights and demanding justice.
“Ijaarsi ABO, akka Oromoon waan humnaan sarbame ifatti baasee beeksisuun akka Oromoon roga hundaan ka’ee waan dhabe akka deebifatu taasise.”
The organisation’s formation enabled the Oromo people to clearly articulate what had been taken from them and to mobilise all sectors of society to demand its restoration.
Achievements and Unfinished Business
The Oromo struggle has achieved significant victories over the decades:
Land Rights: “Gaaffiin lafaa fincila bara 1960 moota keessa tureen lafa harka qonnaan bultoota Oromootti deebisee jira.”—The land question, first raised in the 1960s, has seen partial resolution, with land returned to Oromo farmers.
Language Recognition: “Qabsoon Afaan Oromoo fi Qubee Afaan Oromoos afaan hojii fi barnootaa taasisus, bara 1990moota keessa haga tokko deebii argatee jira.”—The struggle to make Afaan Oromo an official language of work and education achieved partial success in the 1990s, with the adoption of the Oromo alphabet (Qubee).
Regional Autonomy: “Daangaan Oromiyaas ifatti beekamee, ijaarsa mootummaa naannoo Oromiyaa jalatti gaaffiin sabummaa Oromoo akka deebii argatu godhameera.”—The creation of the Oromia Regional State marked the recognition of Oromo nationhood within Ethiopia’s federal system.
However, the struggle remains incomplete. “Garuu, gaaffiin Oromoo guutummaatti waan hin deebineef, amma illee karaa addaddaa falmaan itti fufee jira.”—The fundamental questions of Oromo self-determination, justice, and equality have not been fully addressed, and the struggle continues on multiple fronts.
The Struggle Continues: Why the Fight Is Not Over
“Qabsoon Oromoo haga galma akeekkate ga’utti qabsoon Oromoo hin dhaabbatu.”
The Oromo struggle will not cease until its objectives are achieved. The goal is clear and uncompromising:
“Kaayyoon qabsoo Oromoo mirgoota Oromoon humna alaagaatiin sarbaman deebisuun akka Oromoon nagaa fi bilisummaan jiraatu taasisuu dha.”
The objective is to restore the rights that the Oromo people were stripped of through external force—to ensure that they can live in peace and freedom, as they once did before subjugation.
Three Essential Goals:
- Dismantling the Roots of Oppression: “Hundee garbummaa buqqisuun”—Uprooting the foundations of subjugation, dismantling the structures that have kept the Oromo people subordinate.
- Rebuilding on Oromo Terms: “Sirna Oromoof ta’u deebisanii ijaaruu”—Rebuilding systems and institutions that serve the Oromo people, reflecting their values, aspirations, and needs.
- Restoring Hope and Vision: “Waan Oromoon sirna alagaan dhabe, deebisanii ijaaruu fi hawwii fi abdii Oromoo lachhisuu”—Restoring what was lost under the alien system, and nurturing the dreams and hopes of the Oromo people for a better future.
Conclusion: A People’s Unbreakable Will
The history of Oromo resistance is a testament to the unbreakable will of a people who have refused to accept subjugation as their destiny. Despite centuries of oppression—land dispossession, cultural erasure, linguistic suppression, and systematic marginalisation—the Oromo have persisted.
They have organised, fought, and sacrificed. They have achieved significant victories and continue to press forward. The struggle is not merely political—it is existential. It is about the right to exist as a people, to speak their language, to govern themselves, and to determine their own future.
“Qabsoon Oromoo haga galma akeekkate ga’utti hin dhaabbatu.”
The struggle of the Oromo will continue until the goals are achieved. It is a struggle for justice, for dignity, and for the restoration of what was taken. And it is a struggle that, in the end, will not be denied.
The Oromo people have endured. The Oromo people have resisted. And the Oromo people will prevail.
The Second First Step: Inside the Transformative World of Stroke Rehabilitation
By Our Health Correspondent
The moment a stroke strikes, life fractures. In an instant, the familiar commands of the body—a steady stride, a clear word, the simple act of lifting a cup—become distant memories. Yet, for thousands of survivors and their families, the end of the acute medical emergency is merely the prologue to a longer, more intimate battle. It is a battle fought not in operating theatres, but in the quiet, determined corridors of stroke rehabilitation centers.
These facilities are not hospitals in the traditional sense. They are workshops of resilience, where science meets spirit, and where the slow, painstaking work of reclaiming a life begins.
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More Than Medicine: The Philosophy of Rehab
At its core, a stroke rehabilitation center is a specialized sanctuary designed for one purpose: to guide individuals from the depths of physical and cognitive loss back toward independence. It is a space where the clinical and the compassionate converge.
The philosophy is deceptively simple yet profoundly ambitious. Rather than merely treating a medical condition, these centers treat the person. They acknowledge that a stroke does not only impair mobility; it fractures identity, disrupts communication, and often shrouds the survivor in a fog of emotional turmoil. The goal, therefore, is holistic restoration—addressing the body, the mind, and the spirit in equal measure.
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The Triad of Healing: Therapy in Action
Walk into any reputable stroke rehab facility, and you will witness a symphony of specialized therapies, each playing a critical role in the recovery symphony.
Physical Therapy (PT) is often the most visible. It is the grueling, yet triumphant, work of relearning to stand, to balance, and to walk. Therapists act as patient coaches, coaxing weakened muscles back to life and retraining the brain’s pathways to communicate with limbs. It is a process of small victories—a single step today, a flight of stairs next week.
Occupational Therapy (OT) , meanwhile, shifts the focus from movement to meaning. It answers the question: How do I live my life now? Occupational therapists help survivors adapt to daily activities—dressing, cooking, bathing—using adaptive tools and innovative strategies to restore a sense of normalcy and self-sufficiency.
Speech and Language Therapy addresses one of the most isolating consequences of stroke: aphasia, or the loss of communication. These specialists work tirelessly to help patients find their voice again, rebuilding the neural connections that govern speech, comprehension, and even swallowing—a basic function often taken for granted until it is lost.
Crucially, modern centers do not stop there. Psychological support is woven into the fabric of care, offering survivors a safe space to process grief, frustration, and anxiety. In the quiet moments between exercises, the emotional scars of stroke are given the attention they deserve.
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A Crucial Decision: Choosing the Right Path
For families thrust into the world of rehabilitation, the choices can be overwhelming. Discharge from a general hospital often comes with a stack of brochures and a looming deadline. How does one choose?
The decision is deeply personal. Location matters—proximity to family can be a lifeline. But more critical are the qualifications of the staff. Does the center offer a multi-disciplinary team? Are the therapists certified in neuro-rehabilitation?
Healthcare providers and support groups often serve as invaluable compasses, guiding families toward reputable facilities. However, the most effective strategy remains a physical visit. Walking through the halls, observing the patient-staff interactions, and asking candid questions about success rates and treatment philosophies provides a clarity that no brochure can offer.
The right center is not necessarily the most luxurious; it is the one that feels like a partnership, where the medical team views the patient as a collaborator in their own recovery.
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The Unsung Heroes: Family at the Bedside
A stroke does not happen in a vacuum; it reshapes entire families. In the rehabilitation journey, loved ones are not passive observers but active participants.
Centers that excel in care actively encourage family involvement. They open therapy sessions to relatives, not as spectators, but as co-therapists who can carry the techniques home. They provide education, teaching caregivers how to assist without overstepping, how to encourage without exhausting.
This collaborative model transforms the rehab center from an intimidating institution into a shared mission. When a survivor sees their spouse or child cheering from the sidelines, motivation ignites. The emotional support of family often proves as potent as any clinical intervention, reminding the survivor that they are not alone in their struggle.
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Beyond the Discharge: The Long Horizon
Perhaps the most critical truth about stroke recovery is that it does not end with discharge. The rehabilitation center is a launchpad, not a destination.
Long-term recovery is a marathon. Many centers offer outpatient services to bridge the gap between intensive rehab and independent living. Others connect survivors with community resources—exercise groups for stroke survivors, nutritionists specializing in cardiovascular health, and support networks where individuals can share their experiences.
Staying proactive is essential. Regular physical activity, a heart-healthy diet, and vigilant management of blood pressure and cholesterol are the cornerstones of preventing secondary strokes. Moreover, joining a support group can alleviate the profound loneliness that often accompanies the “new normal” of post-stroke life.
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Conclusion: Reclaiming Independence
The journey through a stroke rehabilitation center is rarely linear. There are setbacks and plateaus, tears and triumphs. Yet, for those who walk—or roll—through those doors, the message is one of unwavering hope.
Understanding the landscape of these facilities empowers survivors and their families to take charge of their recovery. By exploring the services available, involving loved ones in the process, and committing to a lifetime of wellness, individuals can do more than survive a stroke. They can reclaim their independence, their voice, and their place in the world.
In the end, the greatest testament to these centers is not the statistics they produce, but the stories they rewrite—one hesitant step, one whispered word, one rediscovered smile at a time.
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Sources: American Stroke Association, National Institute of Neurological Disorders and Stroke
Waaqeffannaa: The Ancient Oromo Faith and the Resurgence of Indigenous Spirituality
A profound exploration of the Oromo people’s original faith—Waaqeffannaa—reveals a sophisticated spiritual system that has survived centuries of suppression and is now experiencing a powerful renaissance.
The Foundation of Oromo Identity
“Amantiin mala dhugeeffannaa dhalli namaa ittiin Uumaafi uumama isaa hubatu, ittiin buluufi ittiin jiraatuudha.”
Religion is the lens through which humanity understands its Creator and creation—the framework through which people live, govern, and find meaning. For the Oromo people, this spiritual foundation is Waaqeffannaa, the indigenous belief system that has guided Oromo society for millennia.
Like every people, the Oromo possess their own ancient and authentic faith—a system through which they understand the divine truth, order their lives, and align themselves with the will of the Creator. Waaqeffannaa is the belief in the One True God, Waaqa, and the way of life that follows from that conviction.
“Waaqeffannaan amantii Waaqa Tokkicha jiruufi jireenya ofiitti aanfatanii ittiin qajeelfamaniidha.”
Waaqeffannaa is the faith of those who believe in the One Waaqa and are guided by a life lived in accordance with His will. The term itself—Waaqeffannaa—means “believing in Waaqa,” “following Waaqa,” and “directing one’s life toward Waaqa.” The Oromo, more than any other, direct themselves toward Waaqa, the Creator of all things.
The Core Belief: One Waaqa, Infinite Wisdom
The foundational text of Waaqeffannaa, Daaniyaa, declares:
“Waaqni tokkicha qofaadha; hiriyyaa hinqabu; hindhalu; hindhalchu; hindhalatu; hindulloomu; hindu’u. Jiraataa fula’aa’dha. Waaqa gochaan malee ijaan arguun hindanda’amu. Waaqaanis waanti qixxaatu hinjiru.”
“Waaqa is one alone; He has no partner; He does not beget; He is not begotten; He is not born; He does not die; He is eternal and ever-living. Waaqa cannot be seen with the eyes, but through His works. Nothing is equal to Waaqa.”
This conception of the divine is strikingly monotheistic, emphasising the absolute unity, transcendence, and uniqueness of Waaqa. It is a vision of God that resonates with the deepest currents of human spiritual longing—a God who is beyond human comprehension yet intimately present in creation.
The Suppression and Survival of Waaqeffannaa
The Oromo people’s original faith was not destroyed—it was hidden. As the Oromo spiritual tradition known as Wayyuu explains:
“Waaqeffannaan nigaadi’ame malee hinbanne; gaafa dhugaan Oromoo gale, aadaan, amantiin, duudhaafi safuun Oromoo homa deebi’ee gala. Waaqeffannaan nidhokate malee hinbanne; kan gaadi’ame waan dhalli namaa Waaqeffannaa dhiisee waan dhibiin buluu jalqabeef.”
“Waaqeffannaa was suppressed but not abolished. The day the truth of the Oromo returns, the culture, faith, traditions, and ethics of the Oromo will be restored. Waaqeffannaa was hidden but not destroyed. It was hidden because the people abandoned Waaqeffannaa and began to live under oppression.”
This is the central narrative of Waaqeffannaa’s survival—a faith that was not eradicated but driven underground, preserved in the hearts and practices of those who refused to forget. It survived not as a public institution but as an enduring spiritual memory, waiting for the day when it would be called back into the light.
The Pillars of Waaqeffannaa
The foundational pillars of Waaqeffannaa are:
Waaqa (The Creator)
The One True God, eternal and all-powerful, who is known through creation. As the Oromo say: “Waaqa Uumaa, Waaqa uumamaa; Tokkicha maqaa dhibbaa”—”Waaqa the Creator, Waaqa of creation; One with a hundred names.”
Ayyaana (The Divine Spirit)
The spiritual force that connects the individual to Waaqa. Ayyaana is the divine spark within each person, the means through which humans experience the presence of the divine in their lives.
Nama (Humanity)
Human beings are the crown of creation, entrusted with the responsibility to live in harmony with Waaqa’s will. The Oromo understanding of humanity is one of dignity, purpose, and accountability.
Wayyuu (The Spiritual Tradition)
The body of spiritual knowledge, practices, and wisdom passed down through generations. Wayyuu is the custodian of Oromo spiritual heritage, preserving the teachings that guide Waaqeffannaa adherents.
Safuu (Moral Order)
The ethical framework that governs Oromo society—principles of justice, respect, and harmony that reflect the divine order. Safuu is the moral compass that aligns human behaviour with divine will.
The Role of the Odaa Tree
Central to Waaqeffannaa practice is the Odaa tree—the sacred sycamore fig. The Odaa is not merely a tree; it is a symbol of the connection between heaven and earth, a gathering place for prayer, community deliberation, and spiritual renewal.
Beneath the Odaa, the Oromo:
- Offer prayers to Waaqa
- Resolve disputes through dialogue and reconciliation
- Conduct the sacred Gadaa ceremonies
- Renew their commitment to Safuu and communal harmony
The Odaa stands as a living witness to the continuity of Waaqeffannaa tradition, a place where the spiritual and the social are united.
The Meaning of Daaniyaa
At the heart of Waaqeffannaa spiritual literature is Daaniyaa—a sacred text that serves as a guide to understanding the divine and living a life of righteousness.
The name Daaniyaa itself carries profound meaning:
“Daaniyaan warra Waaqaan bulu; sanyiin isaanii Ayyaantuudha; Hiddi dhaloota keenyaas warra Daaniyaati; Qe’een isaanii ganamaa Haroo Mormor ture; achirraa ka’anii walaabuu keessa guuta; warri kun warra Waaqaan bulaniidha.”
“Daaniyaa are those who live under Waaqa; their lineage is Ayyaantuu; The root of our generations is the people of Daaniyaa; Their origin was ancient Haroo Mormor; from there they spread throughout the world; these are the people who live under Waaqa.”
Daaniyaa is not merely a text—it is a people, a tradition, and a way of life. It embodies the lived experience of the Oromo who have remained faithful to Waaqa throughout the centuries.
The Colours of Faith: A Spiritual Code
The sacred colours associated with Daaniyaa and Waaqeffannaa carry deep spiritual significance:
Black (Gurraacha)
- Represents Waaqummaa—the divine presence
- Symbolises the qulqullummaa (purity) of Waaqa
- Holds the highest place in Oromo spiritual perception
- As the Oromo say: “Gurraacha garaa garbaa”—”Black like the dark night”—a sign of Waaqa’s mystery and majesty
Red (Diimaa)
- Represents life and humanity
- Symbolises the blood that connects all Oromo people
- Placed adjacent to black, signifying humanity’s closeness to Waaqa
- Represents the dignity and worth of every human being
White (Adii)
- Represents the light and wisdom Waaqa gives to humanity
- Symbolises the path out of darkness, falsehood, and oppression
- Guides the faithful back to the truth of Waaqa
The Odaa tree, rendered in white, stands at the centre—a symbol of the sacred connection between the divine and the human.
The Calendar of Renewal: Birboo
Waaqeffannaa has its own calendar, marking the passage of time in accordance with divine order. The new year, known as Birboo, is celebrated with thanksgiving and renewal—a time to leave behind the old and embrace the new.
According to the sacred calendar, the current year is 6401 ALW (After the Liberation of Waaqa)—a chronology that traces the faith’s resilience across millennia. The year begins with the month of Amajjii, and Birboo marks the celebration of renewal, a time when the faithful give thanks for the blessings of the past and prepare for the challenges and opportunities of the future.
The Resurgence of Waaqeffannaa
In recent decades, there has been a remarkable resurgence of Waaqeffannaa among the Oromo people, both in the homeland and across the diaspora. This revival is not merely a cultural trend—it is a spiritual homecoming, a return to the ancestral faith that sustained the Oromo people for generations.
The message of this resurgence is clear:
“Waaqeffannaan nidhokate malee hinbanne; gaadiin Waaqeffannaa dhokse gaafa hiikamu, gaarummaan dachii kana nidhuunfata; gaafa dhalli namaa Dhugaa Waaqaatti deebi’e, namni cufti nigammada.”
“Waaqeffannaa was hidden but not destroyed. The day the darkness that has hidden the truth of Waaqeffannaa is lifted, goodness will spread across this land. When humanity returns to the truth of Waaqa, all people will rejoice.”
Conclusion: The Return of Indigenous Truth
For too long, the Oromo people’s spiritual heritage has been marginalised, misunderstood, and misrepresented. But the truth cannot be silenced forever.
As the spiritual tradition of the Oromo, Waaqeffannaa is not merely a religion—it is a comprehensive way of life. It is the lens through which the Oromo understand creation, the path through which they seek justice, and the foundation upon which they build their future.
“Wayyuun Oromoo, kan argaa-dhageettii himuuf aangoma Waaqaa muudaman tokkos kanuma ragaa bahu.”
“Wayyuu, the Oromo spiritual tradition, is the one that has been chosen to be the witness, the one that has the divine authority to speak what it sees and hears.”
The time has come for this ancient faith to be seen, heard, and respected once more. For in the return to Waaqeffannaa lies not only the healing of the Oromo people but also a profound contribution to humanity’s understanding of the divine.
“Waaqeffannaan hinbanne, nidhokate malee! Gaadiin gaafa hiikame Waaqeffannaan huma deebi’a!”
“Waaqeffannaa has not been destroyed—only hidden! When the darkness is lifted, Waaqeffannaa will return!”
Preserving the Integrity of Afaan Oromoo: Why Word Order Matters
In the intricate tapestry of language, structure is not merely a matter of grammar—it is a reflection of identity, logic, and cultural worldview. For Afaan Oromoo, the sequence in which words are arranged is not arbitrary; it is a fundamental pillar of the language’s integrity.
The Rule of Word Order
“Sirnaa fi caasaa Afaan Oromoo hordofuun barbaachisaa dha.”
Following the structure and system of Afaan Oromoo is essential. This is not a matter of pedantry—it is a matter of linguistic preservation and cultural respect.
In Afaan Oromoo, the grammatical rule is clear and consistent: the noun always comes first, followed by the adjective. This is not a suggestion; it is the foundational structure upon which the language is built.
Consider these examples:
- ✅ Oromiyaa Lixaa (Western Oromia) — noun + adjective
- ✅ Oromiyaa Bahaa (Eastern Oromia) — noun + adjective
- ✅ Oromiyaa Kibba Bahaa (Southeastern Oromia) — noun + adjective
- ✅ Oromiyaa Giddugalaa (Central Oromia) — noun + adjective
The same rule applies to naming regions, districts, and places:
- ✅ Arsii Bahaa (Eastern Arsi) — noun + adjective
- ✅ Gujii Lixaa (Western Guji) — noun + adjective
- ✅ Harargee Bahaa (Eastern Hararghe) — noun + adjective
- ✅ Shawaa Lixaa (Western Shewa) — noun + adjective
- ✅ Wallaggaa Bahaa (Eastern Wallagga) — noun + adjective
The Contrast with Other Languages
This structural logic stands in marked contrast to other languages. In English, for example, the adjective typically precedes the noun: “Western Oromia” (adjective + noun). In Amharic, the same pattern applies: “ምዕራብ ኦሮሚያ” (adjective + noun).
These patterns are not inherently superior or inferior—they are simply different. However, when the structure of one language is imposed upon another, the integrity of the latter is compromised. When Afaan Oromoo speakers adopt the adjective-first pattern from other languages, they are not merely borrowing a grammatical convention; they are gradually eroding a core feature of their own language.
Why This Matters
The preservation of Afaan Oromoo’s structure is not about linguistic purism for its own sake. It is about:
1. Maintaining Clarity and Precision
The noun-first structure of Afaan Oromoo provides a natural clarity. The primary subject—the thing being described—is presented first, followed by its characteristics. This reflects a cognitive pattern that is deeply embedded in the language.
2. Preserving Cultural Identity
Language is not just a tool for communication; it is a vessel for culture, history, and worldview. The way a language structures its sentences reflects the way its speakers structure their thoughts. To alter that structure is to alter the very way a people think about the world.
3. Ensuring Intergenerational Transmission
When younger speakers adopt structures from other languages, a gap emerges between generations. Elders may feel that the language is being “broken,” while younger speakers may not even be aware that they are deviating from traditional forms. This gradual shift can lead to a loss of fluency and a disconnect from cultural heritage.
4. Strengthening Linguistic Confidence
Afaan Oromoo has a rich and sophisticated grammatical system. Recognising and honouring this system builds confidence in the language and its speakers. It affirms that Afaan Oromoo is not a “lesser” language that must adapt to the structures of more dominant languages—it is a complete, complex, and beautiful language in its own right.
A Call to Awareness
For Afaan Oromoo speakers, the challenge is not simply to know the rules—it is to apply them consistently, whether in writing, speaking, or teaching. This is particularly important in formal settings: education, media, government documents, and literature.
When we say:
- ❌ Bahaa Oromiyaa (incorrect: adjective + noun)
- ✅ Oromiyaa Bahaa (correct: noun + adjective)
We are not just choosing between words—we are choosing between linguistic fidelity and linguistic erosion.
The Broader Context: Language in the Age of Globalisation
In an era of globalisation, small languages face immense pressure to conform to dominant linguistic patterns. English, in particular, has become a global lingua franca, and its grammatical structures often seep into other languages through media, technology, and education.
For Afaan Oromoo, the adjective-first pattern is a clear example of this influence. Many speakers—especially those educated in other languages—unconsciously adopt the adjective-first structure without realising that it violates the rules of their own mother tongue.
This is not about resisting change altogether; all languages evolve over time. However, there is a critical difference between organic evolution and structural erosion. Organic evolution occurs naturally within the framework of a language’s own rules. Structural erosion occurs when external patterns are imposed without awareness, gradually dismantling the language’s foundational logic.
Practical Steps for Preservation
To preserve the integrity of Afaan Oromoo’s structure:
📚 In Education
Teachers should emphasise the noun-first rule from the earliest stages of language instruction. Students should be taught not only what is correct but why it is correct—grounding the rule in the logic of the language.
📰 In Media
Journalists, broadcasters, and writers should model correct usage. Media plays a powerful role in shaping public understanding of language, and consistent correct usage helps normalise the noun-first structure.
💬 In Daily Conversation
Community members can gently correct one another when errors occur—not with criticism, but with the understanding that preserving the language is a shared responsibility.
📖 In Literature
Writers and poets should continue to explore the richness of Afaan Oromoo’s structure, demonstrating its beauty and flexibility within its own grammatical framework.
Conclusion
“Kun seerluga English fi Afaan Amaaraa (ibsituu + maqaa) ti. Kan Afaan Oromoo: (maqaa + ibsituu) dha.”
This is not merely a linguistic curiosity—it is a statement of identity. The noun-first structure of Afaan Oromoo is a defining feature of the language, one that distinguishes it from other languages in the region and reflects the unique logic of Oromo thought.
To follow the structure and system of Afaan Oromoo is to honour the language itself—and the people who speak it.
Every time we speak correctly, we are not just communicating—we are preserving.
Beyond Separatism: The Six Pillars of Oromo Identity and the Transformative Vision for Ethiopia
In the turbulent theatre of Ethiopian political discourse, few narratives are as polarising as the aspirations of the Oromo people. Too often reduced to a simplistic caricature of ethnic nationalism or separatist ambition, the Oromo political project is frequently misunderstood.
Yet, underneath the surface of party politics and electoral calculations lies a deeper, more cohesive reality. Regardless of political function, ideological leaning, or generational gap, there exist critical political common denominators shared and protected by the Oromo people. These are not revolutionary slogans designed to dismantle a nation; they are foundational principles intended to reshape, support, and sustain Ethiopia into the future.
They are Oromia, Afaan Oromo, Gadaa, Oromummaa, Finfinnee, and Dirree Dhawa.
To understand these six pillars is to understand the soul of modern Oromo political consciousness—and to recognise that the Oromo quest is fundamentally a quest for a more equitable, federal, and democratic Ethiopia.
Oromia: The Territorial Bedrock
For the Oromo, Oromia is far more than an administrative region drawn on a map; it is the historical and political homeland. Spanning vast swathes of the Ethiopian highlands and lowlands, it anchors the collective memory of a people who have inhabited these lands for millennia.
Oromia embodies the historical struggle for autonomy and self-determination. It is the territorial foundation upon which claims to political representation, federal restructuring, and resource control are built . In the current constitutional era, the debate surrounding Oromia is central to Ethiopia’s federal future. For the Oromo, the protection of Oromia’s territorial integrity is non-negotiable—not as a fortress against the rest of Ethiopia, but as a recognised base from which the Oromo can contribute equally to the national fabric.
Afaan Oromo: The Linguistic Unifier
If Oromia is the body, Afaan Oromo is the soul. After over a century of systemic suppression, the Oromo language has re-emerged as the strongest cultural and political bond among scattered Oromo communities . It is more than a tool for communication; it is a symbol of restored dignity and a vibrant declaration of identity.
In the political arena, Afaan Oromo serves as a practical instrument for mass mobilisation. Its expansion into federal institutions—from the parliament floor to educational curricula—is viewed not as an encroachment but as an essential correction for historical inequality. Asserting Afaan Oromo enhances Oromo political visibility and ensures that the voice of the country’s largest ethnic group is heard in its own tongue . For the Oromo, linguistic pluralism is not a threat to national unity but the very bedrock of a just and inclusive Ethiopian state.
Gadaa: The Indigenous Democratic Blueprint
While the initial prompt highlights the political pillars, the Gadaa system stands proudly among them as the indigenous democratic governance system of the Oromo people. Recognised by UNESCO as an Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity, Gadaa represents a sophisticated political, social, and ritual framework that has governed Oromo society for centuries .
Gadaa is built upon principles of term limits, checks and balances, and consensus-based decision-making—ideas that resonate deeply with modern democratic values . For contemporary Oromo political thought, Gadaa is not merely an ancient relic; it is a living philosophy that informs the demand for transparent, participatory, and decentralised governance. To dismiss Oromo political aspirations is to dismiss a system that predates many modern states, and which offers profound lessons for Ethiopia’s own governance challenges.
Oromummaa: The Cultural Conscience
Oromummaa translates roughly to “Oromoness”—but it defies a simple definition. It is the collective cultural ethos, the shared moral compass, and the intricate web of values, histories, and worldviews that unite the Oromo people.
Critically, Oromummaa is historically inclusive. It is not an ethnic fortress; rather, it embodies a form of cultural nationalism that has traditionally welcomed outsiders and assimilated diverse groups . In the political sphere, Oromummaa serves as the ethical conscience of the Oromo struggle. It underscores the demand for justice not out of a desire for superiority, but out of a profound belief in equity, respect, and the fundamental dignity of all peoples. It is this cultural resilience that has sustained the Oromo through decades of marginalisation and continues to fuel their push for constitutional recognition.
Finfinnee: The National Crucible
Few spaces in Ethiopia are as contested—or as symbolic—as Finfinnee (Addis Ababa). Historically Oromo land, it has evolved into the cultural and political melting pot of the nation, serving as the seat of the federal government and the headquarters of the African Union .
For the Oromo, Finfinnee represents more than a capital city; it is a living testament to their historical rootedness in the central highlands . The political consciousness of modern Oromo movements was largely shaped within the streets and universities of Finfinnee. The governance of this city is tied inextricably to Oromo identity, the balance of federal power, and national symbolism. The Oromo claim to Finfinnee is not a call for exclusivity, but a demand for a seat at the table in deciding its future. Recognising the Oromo heritage of Finfinnee is seen as essential for healing historical grievances and fostering true federal balance.
Dirree Dhawa: The Multicultural Frontier
Finally, Dirree Dhawa stands as a testament to Ethiopia’s complex diversity and the unresolved questions of its federal architecture. As a multicultural frontier shared among Oromo, Somali, Amhara, and other communities, its administrative status is a microcosm of the nation’s broader federal challenges.
Unlike the exclusivist narratives that often dominate ethnic politics, the Oromo perspective on Dirree Dhawa symbolises a vision of inclusive governance . The city’s mixed demographic makeup and strategic economic importance require a governance model that transcends ethnic domination. For the Oromo, the resolution of Dirree Dhawa’s status represents a litmus test for whether Ethiopia can truly accommodate its diverse peoples within a single, unified federal system.
A Transformative, Not Separatist, Agenda
Taken together, these six pillars present a compelling counternarrative to the accusations of separatism often levelled against the Oromo political movement . The Oromo demand for territorial integrity, linguistic equality, cultural recognition, democratic governance, and balanced federalism is not an attempt to break up Ethiopia. On the contrary, it is an attempt to save it—to build a nation where no group is marginalised, where resources are shared equitably, and where federalism functions as originally intended.
These Oromo political common-denominator aims are not merely separatist or nationalist—rather, they are transformative, aiming to reshape, support, and sustain Ethiopia into the future . A strong Oromia is a strong Ethiopia. A recognised language is a unified nation. A respected culture is a peaceful society.
The question for Ethiopia is not whether it can accommodate these Oromo pillars, but whether it can afford not to. For in the recognition of these fundamental rights lies the potential for a new dawn—one where the Oromo, and all Ethiopians, can walk forward together.
The Oromo quest is not a call for division. It is a call for a new Ethiopia—one built on justice, equality, and the recognition that diversity is not a weakness, but the nation’s greatest strength.
Take Me to Borana: Where the Earth Speaks and the Soul Listens
In the heart of southern Oromia, where the savannah stretches endlessly beneath golden skies, lies a land that refuses to be forgotten. Borana is not just a destination—it is a homecoming for the soul.
There are places that are simply visited. And then there are places that visit you—that stay in your bones, echo in your memory, and call you back long after you have left.
Borana is one of those places.
“Take me to Borana.” These words are more than a request. They are a longing—a recognition that somewhere in the vast expanse of southern Oromia, there exists a land where time slows, where the earth breathes, and where humanity still lives in harmony with nature.
A Land of Endless Horizons
Borana stretches across the southernmost reaches of Oromia, a land of sweeping savannahs, acacia-dotted plains, and skies so vast they seem to swallow the horizon. Here, the earth is not just ground beneath your feet—it is a living presence, a witness to centuries of pastoral life.
The landscape tells a story of survival and resilience. Ancient wells, some dug centuries ago, still hold water—and still hold the memories of generations who have gathered around them to sustain their herds and their communities . These wells are not just sources of water; they are symbols of the deep connection between the Borana people and the land they inhabit.
The Wisdom of the Gadaa
At the heart of Borana culture lies the Gadaa system—a traditional governance structure recognized by UNESCO as an Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity . For centuries, this system has guided the Borana people, offering a model of democracy and social organization that predates many modern political systems.
Every eight years, power is transferred from one Abbaa Gadaa (customary ruler) to his successor through elaborate ceremonies that reaffirm the community’s commitment to justice, reconciliation, and the preservation of their way of life .
The Gadaa system is not just a relic of the past—it is a living tradition that continues to inspire the world with its timeless wisdom . It is a reminder that governance can be inclusive, that leadership can be transitional, and that communities can thrive when they honor the voice of every member.
A Rhythm of Life
In Borana, life follows a rhythm as old as the land itself. Each morning, the sun rises over the savannah, casting golden light across the plains. The pastoralists move with their cattle, following ancient migration routes that have sustained their communities for generations.
Every sunset paints the savannah in unforgettable colors—crimson, amber, and gold. The air carries the sounds of livestock, the murmur of conversations, and the distant songs of a people who have learned to live in balance with their environment.
This is not life lived in a hurry. It is life lived intentionally—with respect for the land, for tradition, and for each other.
Where Culture Comes Alive
Borana offers visitors an authentic cultural experience that goes far beyond tourism. It is an invitation to step into a world where traditions are not just preserved but lived:
- Meet welcoming communities who greet visitors with the warmth of a people who believe that every stranger is a guest, and every guest is family.
- Experience authentic culture through ceremonies, music, and the everyday rhythms of pastoral life.
- Witness extraordinary wildlife—from elephants and giraffes to lions and zebras—in their natural habitat.
- Discover a land where nature, heritage, and humanity exist in harmony.
The Borana people have long understood something that modern society often forgets: that the health of the land and the health of the community are inseparable.
More Than a Destination
“Take me to Borana” is not just a request to visit a place. It is a request to experience something deeper—a way of life that has endured against all odds, a culture that has preserved its wisdom across centuries, and a land that offers refuge to those seeking meaning.
Borana is more than a destination. It is an experience that stays with you long after the journey ends. It is a reminder that in a world that often moves too fast, there are still places where time slows down—where the earth speaks, and the soul listens.
The Call
For those who have heard the call, Borana awaits. Not as a place to be conquered or a photo to be taken, but as a land to be respected, a culture to be honored, and a story to be shared.
Take me to Borana.
Take me where the earth stretches endlessly beneath golden skies.
Where ancient wells still tell stories of resilience.
Where the Gadaa system continues to inspire the world with its timeless wisdom.
Where every sunrise carries the rhythm of pastoral life, and every sunset paints the savannah in unforgettable colors.
Take me to Borana, where the soul finds its home.
Discover Borana. Experience the extraordinary. Return forever changed.
The Voice That Refuses to Fade: Rift Valley University Students Honor Haacaaluu Hundeessaa
On the sixth anniversary of his assassination, students at Rift Valley University’s Waliso Campus gathered to pay tribute to the artist who became the soundtrack of a revolution—proving that some voices, once heard, can never truly be silenced.
A Date Etched in Memory
Today marks the sixth anniversary of the assassination of Haacaaluu Hundeessaa, the iconic Oromo singer and activist whose music became the anthem of a movement . On June 29, 2020, the 34-year-old artist was shot dead by unknown assailants in Addis Ababa, sending shockwaves through the Oromo community and Ethiopia as a whole . His death was described as “a spear through the heart of the Oromo nation” .
At Rift Valley University’s Waliso Campus, students and faculty have chosen to commemorate this day with a solemn act of remembrance. Despite circumstances that might have made such a tribute difficult, they have come together to ensure that Haacaaluu’s legacy is not forgotten.
More Than a Musician
Haacaaluu Hundeessaa was born in 1986 in Ambo, a city that would later become a symbol of Oromo resistance . At the age of 17, he was arrested for his political activities and imprisoned for five years without ever being charged. It was during this time that he composed most of the songs that would define his career .
His first album, Sanyii Mootii (Royalty), was released in 2009 and propelled him to national stardom . But it was his 2015 single Maalan Jira (What Existence Is Mine) that cemented his place in history. The song became the rallying anthem of the 2015-2018 Oromo protests, which fundamentally altered Ethiopia’s political landscape and swept Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed to power in 2018 .
In his lyrics, Haacaaluu captured the pain, displacement, and marginalization of the Oromo people with astonishing depth . He sang of farmers evicted from their lands, of a culture in jeopardy, and of a community refusing to disappear . Yet his music also offered hope and resilience—most notably in his 2017 follow-up Jirra (We Are Here), a defiant statement of endurance and self-affirmation .
A Legacy Carried Forward
At the Waliso Campus memorial, speakers emphasized that Haacaaluu was not merely a musician—he was a moral compass and a unifying symbol for the Oromo nation . His music inspired an entire generation to be proud of their Oromo identity and to stand up against oppression .
His legacy has been carried forward in tangible ways. In 2022, Rift Valley University renamed its Dirre Gafarsa Campus after Haacaaluu, ensuring that his history would not be forgotten. The ceremony was attended by scholars, students, and family members who spoke of his enduring impact.
Today, at Waliso Campus, students continue that tradition—standing in solidarity, honoring a man whose voice became the soundtrack of a people’s longing for justice.
The Questions That Remain
Six years after Haacaaluu’s death, fundamental questions remain unanswered. There has never been a full investigation into who ordered his assassination or why . For many, this absence of justice has itself become a source of deepening wounds .
Yet Haacaaluu’s message persists. His songs remain alive because the conditions that inspired them have not entirely disappeared . They continue to be sung at protests, at memorials, and in the quiet moments when a people reflect on their journey.
The Students’ Tribute
The memorial at Waliso Campus was not a grand political statement—it was a simple act of remembrance by those who refuse to let his voice fade. In choosing to honor Haacaaluu on the sixth anniversary of his death, these students have affirmed that his music still matters.
As his widow stated at his funeral, “Haacaaluu is not dead. He will remain in my heart and the hearts of millions of Oromo people forever” .
Today, in Waliso, that promise is being kept.
“He was a true freedom fighter. He was a singer who raised our spirits.” — Belay Aqenaw, at Haacaaluu’s funeral
Adama Accord or Oromo Annulment? Prosperity Party’s Central Committee Unveils Radical Blueprint to Redraw Ethiopia’s Map and Constitution
By Our Political Affairs Correspondent
(ADAMA, July 2, 2026) The historic city of Adama, a crucible of Oromo resistance and a vital economic nerve center, has once again become the epicenter of a political earthquake. Since yesterday, the Central Committee of Ethiopia’s ruling Prosperity Party (Bilxiginnaa) has been locked in a high-stakes meeting. While the party frames these deliberations as necessary “mid-term” reforms, the agenda items that have surfaced paint a starkly different picture: an audacious, legally dubious attempt to dismantle the ethnic federalism enshrined in the 1995 Constitution—and, critically, to carve up the Oromo region without the consent of its people.
Sources close to the proceedings have revealed four sweeping constitutional amendments currently under consideration, alongside a devastating procedural change that effectively silences the Oromo populace regarding their territorial integrity.
The Four Pillars of the Proposed Overhaul
The Central Committee is reportedly pushing a quartet of seismic changes that would fundamentally alter Ethiopia’s governance and economic structure:
1. The End of Ethnic Federalism (Article 39 Overhaul): The current federal arrangement, based on ethnic identity and self-determination, is to be scrapped. In its place, regions would be reorganized purely based on geographic contiguity and economic interdependence, effectively severing the cultural and historical ties that define the current state boundaries.
2. The Enclave Question (Article 49 Overhaul): Dire Dawa and Finfinne (Addis Ababa) are to be designated as separate, independent regional states in their own right. This move seeks to permanently detach the capital and the eastern trade hub from their historical and demographic surroundings—a long-standing point of contention for the Oromo people, who view Finfinne as their heartland.
3. Land Privatization (Article 40 Overhaul): The constitutional provision declaring land as the collective property of the state and the people is set to be erased. The new framework would permit private ownership, opening the door for large-scale commercial acquisition and displacing millions of smallholder farmers who currently rely on communal tenure systems.
4. A Shift to a Semi-Presidential System: The current parliamentary system of governance would be replaced with a semi-presidential model. Under this proposal, a President would be elected by parliament and, alongside the Prime Minister, share executive power—a move widely interpreted as a consolidation of centralized authority.
The “Referendum Exit” and Oromia’s Looming Partition
While the four amendments are alarming, the most insidious proposal concerns the process of regional boundary changes. The committee has floated a motion to eliminate the constitutional requirement of a public referendum (Murtii Ummataa) for regional reorganization. Instead, the decision would be left solely to a parliamentary vote, followed by the President’s signature.
The implications of this are devastatingly clear. For Oromia, the most populous and expansive region, this procedural coup de grâce is a direct threat to its existence. Documents circulated in tandem with the meeting—which have long been rumored—propose splitting Oromia into six distinct “golas” (clusters/zones) . Without the constitutional safeguard of a referendum, the Oromo people would have no legal recourse to vote on the dismemberment of their own state. Oromia could be truncated, divided, and absorbed by neighboring administrative constructs at the whims of a parliamentary majority in Addis, with zero consultation with the population on the ground.
A Calculated Strategy to Dismantle the Oromo Legacy
Political analysts watching the Adama meeting view this not as mere administrative tweaking, but as a calculated, systemic strategy to neutralize Oromo political power. By dismantling the federal structure that gave Oromia its current boundaries, the ruling party is effectively erasing the territorial gains made since the fall of the Derg. The “gola” division—a term historically associated with colonial-era administrative boundaries—is viewed by the Oromo nation as a colonial reinvention designed to weaken their demographic and political hegemony.
Furthermore, the privatization of land (Article 40) strips Oromo communities of their ancestral connection to their soil, while the concentration of executive power ensures that the central government retains ultimate control over the newly fractured territories.
The Verdict from Adama
As the Central Committee continues its meeting behind closed doors, the Oromo nation and the wider Ethiopian populace watch with bated breath. What is unfolding in Adama is not a conversation about “governance reform”; it is a blueprint for the unilateral dissolution of the federal contract.
For the Oromo people, the message from Adama is clear: the struggle to defend the constitution is now more urgent than ever. As the famous mantra goes, “Qabsoo Itti Fufa”—the struggle continues. But today, that struggle is not just against an external enemy; it is against a political machinery determined to redraw borders in ink, blood, and parliamentary decree, while silencing the voice of forty million people.
Ethiopia’s Tourism Surge: A Story of Growth, Potential, and National Pride
From record-breaking visitor numbers to multi-billion dollar revenues, Ethiopia’s tourism sector is undergoing a remarkable transformation—and the world is taking notice.
Ethiopia is a land of ancient wonders and breathtaking landscapes—the rock-hewn churches of Lalibela, the obelisks of Axum, the castles of Gondar, and the dramatic peaks of the Simien Mountains. For decades, these treasures remained largely unseen by the world, their potential locked away by inadequate infrastructure and limited promotion.
That era is ending.
In a recent address, Ethiopia’s leadership laid out a compelling vision of a nation finally awakening to its tourism potential—and the numbers speak for themselves.
A National Responsibility: Promoting Ethiopia to the World
“From a promotional perspective, much work is expected of us,” the Prime Minister acknowledged. “We know that a lot of promotional work remains, and our friends tell us the same.”
This honest self-assessment is accompanied by a call to action: every Ethiopian citizen has a responsibility not just to work, but to present their country with pride, creativity, and dignity. Promotion of Ethiopia is not the sole duty of government—it is a national project requiring coordinated effort from every sector of society.
“Ethiopia is Africa’s diplomatic capital,” the Prime Minister noted, emphasizing the unique advantages the country possesses. “People in Africa and beyond are eager to come to Ethiopia.”
The message is clear: when promotion is done in a coordinated way, the benefits multiply exponentially.
Record-Breaking Growth: The Numbers That Tell the Story
The transformation of Ethiopia’s tourism sector is reflected in remarkable statistics that demonstrate tangible progress.
Economic Growth
Ethiopia is expecting 10.2% GDP growth this year—a figure unmatched not just in Ethiopia but across the African continent. This growth is a testament to the success of the Homegrown Economic Reform Agenda, which has identified tourism as one of five key pillars of national economic transformation.
Export Revenue
$10.8 to $11 billion in exports are projected for this year—a dramatic increase from just $3 billion two to three years ago. This exponential growth reflects the expanding economic base of the nation.
International Visitors
More than 1.4 million foreign tourists have visited Ethiopia this year—a 300,000 increase from the year before last and a 100,000 increase from last year. These visitors have generated over $5.4 billion in revenue from international tourism alone.
Domestic Tourism
Remarkably, 50.16 million Ethiopians have explored different parts of their own country—a 9.4 million increase from the year before last and a 1.8 million increase from last year. Domestic tourism generated over 79 billion Birr in revenue, demonstrating the growing appetite among Ethiopians to discover their own heritage.
International Conferences
204 international conferences were held in Ethiopia this year—a 50-conference increase from last year and a 166-conference increase from the year before last. More than 166,000 participants attended MICE (Meetings, Incentives, Conferences, and Exhibitions) events in Ethiopia this year alone.
Tax Revenue
Ethiopia is projected to collect 1.5 trillion Birr in tax revenue this year. Before the reforms, the annual collection capacity was merely 200-300 million Birr—a transformation that underscores the scale of economic progress.
Infrastructure: Building the Foundation for Growth
Tourism requires more than beautiful sites—it requires accessibility, connectivity, and modern facilities.
In just the past few months, seven airports have been inaugurated across Ethiopia, improving access to previously remote destinations. Numerous roads have been constructed, connecting heritage sites to urban centres and reducing travel times. Digital access and visitor services have been strengthened to meet the expectations of modern travellers.
The “Dine for Sheger,” “Dine for the Nation,” and “Dine for a Generation” projects have fundamentally reshaped Ethiopia’s tourism map. These initiatives have:
- Transformed the heart of Addis Ababa through Unity Park, Sheger Park, and Entoto Park
- Developed destinations like Halala Kela, Chebera Churchura, and Wenchi
- Created modern resorts including Dembi Eco Lodge, Nein Le Palm Lodge, Shebelle Resort, and Lake Logo Resort
- Restored historical heritage, including the Castle of Fasilides in Gondar and the rock-hewn churches of Lalibela
These projects have been executed with remarkable speed and quality, setting new standards for Ethiopian tourism infrastructure.
The Private Sector: An Indispensable Partner
The private sector has played an indispensable role in the tourism transformation. Through active participation in the “Dine for Sheger,” “Dine for the Nation,” and “Dine for a Generation” projects, private enterprises have contributed expertise, investment, and innovation.
This public-private partnership model has proven to be a powerful engine for growth, combining government vision with private sector efficiency and creativity.
A Shared Vision: Tourism as an Economic Engine
The Prime Minister’s message goes beyond statistics. It speaks to a fundamental understanding of what tourism truly means:
“Tourism is not just about heritage. Having heritage does not automatically mean tourism will flourish. Tourism is not just about natural resources. Tourism is about experience.”
For a visitor to truly benefit Ethiopia—and for Ethiopia to benefit from the visitor—the experience must be complete. The Prime Minister’s simple but profound definition captures this perfectly:
“Tourism, in short, means someone who comes to visit us should leave with their heart delighted and their wallet lighter.”
This encapsulates the dual purpose of tourism: creating memorable, meaningful experiences for visitors while generating economic value for the nation.
The Road Ahead
The numbers are impressive, but the journey is far from complete. As the Prime Minister acknowledged, much promotional work remains. Every Ethiopian—from airport staff to hotel workers, from taxi drivers to tour guides, from artists to citizens—has a role to play in presenting the true, beautiful Ethiopia to the world.
The foundation has been laid. The infrastructure is being built. The world is being invited. And Ethiopia is responding with a tourism sector that is finally realising its immense potential.
Ethiopia is rising—and the world is taking notice. The ancient land is becoming a modern destination, and the story is just beginning.
Echoes of a Martyr: Nairobi’s Oromo Community Commemorates Haacaaluu Hundeessaa’s Legacy
Six years after his assassination, the spirit of the iconic artist and activist burns as brightly as ever in the hearts of the Oromo diaspora.
In the vibrant city of Nairobi, the Oromo community came together with a profound sense of purpose to mark the 6th anniversary of the passing of their beloved icon, Artist Haacaaluu Hundeessaa. The commemoration was not merely a somber remembrance of a life tragically cut short, but a vibrant reaffirmation of the enduring legacy he left behind.
The event, attended by community members from all walks of life, was a powerful tapestry of poetry, music, and impassioned speeches, all woven together to honor the man who became the indisputable voice of the Oromo struggle for justice and recognition. As a prominent international analysis described him, Haacaaluu was “the soundtrack of the Oromo revolution, a lyrical genius and an activist who embodied the hopes and aspirations of the Oromo public”.
A Legacy Forged in Struggle
Haacaaluu Hundeessaa was more than a musician; he was a symbol of resistance and a catalyst for change. His music, particularly the iconic songs “Maalan Jira” and “Jirra,” served as rallying anthems during the historic 2015-2018 Oromo protests, which fundamentally altered Ethiopia’s political landscape. His intensely political lyrics, sung in the Oromo language, articulated a profound sense of marginalisation and a yearning for freedom that resonated with millions.
Born in 1986 in the storied city of Ambo, Haacaaluu’s path to becoming a cultural icon was forged in hardship . At just 17 years old, he was arrested for his political activities and imprisoned for five years without charge. It was in that incarceration that he shaped his identity and composed most of the songs that would define his career .
His assassination on June 29, 2020, in Addis Ababa sent shockwaves through the Oromo nation and Ethiopia as a whole, described as “a spear through the heart of the Oromo nation”. The grief was so intense it triggered major protests that led to the loss of hundreds of lives.
The Call to Action: Responding to Sacrifice
At the Nairobi commemoration, participants emphasized that the anniversary was a time not just for mourning, but for reflection and renewed commitment. They spoke of the immense service Haacaaluu rendered to his people, sacrificing his personal safety for the collective hope of the Oromo nation. Community leaders declared that his blood and his art demand a response from the Oromo people, calling on the community to continue the struggle for justice and to secure a future where the Oromo have their rightful place .
The message was clear: Haacaaluu’s legacy is an obligation. The participants reminded the community that Haacaaluu left behind a mandate to continue the fight for justice, and that the struggle he represents is not just about remembering the past but about securing a future where the Oromo people have their rights and dignity fully recognized. As his widow powerfully stated at his funeral, “Haacaaluu is not dead. He will remain in my heart and the hearts of millions of Oromo people forever”.
An Enduring Spirit
As the poignant strains of Haacaaluu’s most famous anthems echoed through the venue, the atmosphere was charged with a mix of profound grief and a renewed sense of purpose. The commemoration in Nairobi is part of a global movement, with the Oromo diaspora from New Zealand to the United States holding similar events to ensure his spirit is never forgotten .
Haacaaluu Hundeessaa’s legacy is a testament to the power of art as a weapon of resistance and a tool for unity. He inspired a generation to be proud of their Oromo identity and to stand up against oppression. His music, which captured the displacement, loss, and subjugation of his people, offered roadmaps of resistance and continues to be a beacon of light for his community.
In the heart of Nairobi, far from the hills of his homeland, Haacaaluu’s spirit finds a permanent home. The community’s message was unequivocal: his sacrifice was not in vain, and his dream of dignity and justice for the Oromo nation will be pursued with relentless vigor until it is fully realized.
A Divine Offering: The Inauguration of Assegid Abebe’s Worship Album
In the vibrant landscape of Ethiopian worship music, a new milestone has been reached. Renowned prophet and psalmist, Assegid Abebe, has officially inaugurated a powerful new worship album, marking a profound addition to the genre of contemporary spiritual music.
This project is described as a stirring display of divine anointing, poised to deeply move listeners and strengthen the spirit of worship among the faithful.
A Legacy of Spirit-Filled Ministry
Assegid Abebe is widely recognized not just as a musician, but as a prophetic voice in the Ethiopian Christian community. His ministry has long been associated with songs that carry a strong presence of worship and spiritual depth.
Following his previous releases, which have garnered a large and dedicated following, this new album is expected to continue his legacy of creating music that resonates with the soul. The inauguration ceremony was likely attended by fellow ministers, artists, and congregants who share a deep appreciation for his unique calling.
What to Expect
The term “ድንቅ” (remarkable or wondrous) is often used to describe the spiritual atmosphere surrounding Assegid Abebe’s performances. This album is anticipated to feature:
- Profound Worship: Songs designed to lead listeners into a state of deep reverence and connection.
- Prophetic Declarations: Lyrics that speak to the present times and offer spiritual insight.
- Artistic Excellence: High-quality production that blends traditional Ethiopian sounds with contemporary worship styles.
Joining the Celebration
The inauguration of this worship album is a significant event for fans of Ethiopian gospel music. Whether you are a long-time follower of Assegid Abebe or new to his ministry, this release invites you into a space of worship and reflection.
The album is expected to be available on major digital platforms, allowing the “remarkable spirit” of these songs to reach homes and churches around the world.
Beneath the Odaa: A Gathering of Peace and Unity at Bulluq
Eight years ago, under the sacred shade of the Odaa Bulluq tree, Oromo youth gathered to seek peace. Today, that moment remains a powerful symbol of what dialogue, respect, and unity can achieve.
There is a tree that stands as a witness to history—a silent guardian of the Oromo people’s most sacred traditions. It is the Odaa, the sycamore fig tree, a symbol of justice, reconciliation, and the enduring spirit of the Gadaa system.
Beneath its sprawling branches, the most important decisions are made. Disputes are resolved. Peace is sought. Unity is forged.
At Odaa Bulluq, one of the five sacred Odaa trees of the Oromo people, a powerful gathering took place eight years ago. On Adoolessa 1, 2018 (according to the Oromo calendar)—August 10, 2018—a group of young Oromo freedom fighters (Qeerroo) came together beneath its shade to seek peace for their land and people.
Today, as tensions once again threaten the region, the memory of that gathering offers a lesson—and a call to action.
The Odaa: A Sacred Symbol
For the Oromo people, the Odaa tree is far more than a tree. It represents:
- Justice: The Gadaa system, UNESCO’s Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity, is centred on the Odaa. It is where elders, leaders, and community members gather to make decisions that shape the future .
- Reconciliation: When conflicts arise, the Odaa is the place where peace is negotiated, disputes are settled, and harmony is restored .
- Unity: The Odaa’s branches reach out in all directions, symbolising the interconnectedness of the community and the shared destiny of all Oromo people .
- Continuity: The Odaa is the link between ancestors and future generations—a living testament to the enduring wisdom of the past .
The Odaa Bulluq is one of the five most significant Odaa trees in Oromia, each with its own history and purpose. Together, they form a network of sacred sites that anchor the cultural and spiritual life of the Oromo people.
The Gathering of 2018: A Moment of Unity
Eight years ago, on Adoolessa 1, 2018, a remarkable gathering took place at Odaa Bulluq. Young Oromo activists—known as Qeerroo, meaning “young bulls”—assembled beneath the sacred tree to seek peace.
They had travelled from far and wide. Some had journeyed over 320 kilometres to be there. They came despite the challenges—despite threats, despite surveillance, despite the divisions that had been sown by years of conflict and tension.
Their purpose was simple but profound: to seek reconciliation, to embrace one another, and to call for peace in their region.
As one participant, Dechasa Wirtu, recalled in a recent reflection:
“The Odaa is a place where great decisions are made, where reconciliation is enacted. To gather in such a place signifies respect for law, culture, and the pursuit of peace and security. The reconciliation that happens at Odaa Bulluq is a significant and respected pledge.”
“Eight years ago today, on Adoolessa 1, 2018, when the Qeerroo of Oromia gathered at Odaa Bulluq to negotiate peace for our region, listening to the elders of the land—it was a renewal of unity.”
The atmosphere was one of hope. Elders spoke. Young people listened. Differing perspectives were shared. And out of that dialogue came a commitment: to reject hatred, to embrace reconciliation, and to build a future of peace.
A Call for Today: Remembering the Lesson
Today, eight years later, Dechasa Wirtu has issued a renewed call, reflecting on the gathering’s significance:
“Today, if our young people stop harming each other and embrace unity, they have enough strength to protect themselves from the Amhara extremists who are currently crossing borders and encroaching upon them.”
“My message today is the same as eight years ago at Odaa Bulluq: if we come together and resolve our problems through peace, dialogue, and our cultural traditions—beneath the shade of the Odaa—it will bring a lasting solution.”
He also shared a personal commitment to the cause:
“I believe in what I said then. I traveled over 320 kilometres to be there, to participate in that dialogue. I organised and prepared for it alongside many other young people.”
This message comes at a time of heightened tension, as conflict once again threatens the region. Dechasa’s reflection is not just nostalgia—it is a warning and a hope.
The Power of Dialogue
What made the gathering at Odaa Bulluq so powerful was not just the location—it was the commitment to dialogue.
In Oromo culture, dialogue is not optional; it is essential. It is how communities survive and thrive. It is how disagreements are resolved without violence. It is how wisdom from the past is applied to the challenges of the present.
The Gadaa system is built on this principle. Power is not seized—it is transferred through consensus and ceremony. Conflicts are not escalated—they are mediated and resolved. The voice of every member of the community matters .
When young people choose dialogue over confrontation, they honour that tradition. They demonstrate maturity and wisdom beyond their years. And they build the foundation for a society that can endure even the most difficult challenges.
Odaa Bulluq: A Living Legacy
The Odaa Bulluq is not just a symbol of the past—it is a living legacy that continues to inspire today.
As Ethiopia and Oromia face ongoing political and social challenges, the example of the 2018 gathering offers a model for how to move forward. It demonstrates that:
- Unity is possible, even in the face of deep divisions.
- Dialogue works, even when it seems difficult.
- Youth have a crucial role to play, as agents of peace and change.
- Cultural traditions, like the Gadaa system and the sacred Odaa, remain relevant in the modern world.
The gathering at Odaa Bulluq was a powerful reminder that beneath the shade of the Odaa, enemies can become friends, and the future can be reshaped.
A Lesson for All
Dechasa Wirtu’s reflection is a reminder that the values of the Odaa—peace, unity, justice, and reconciliation—are not just Oromo values. They are universal human values.
In a world that often seems divided, where conflict and misunderstanding appear to dominate the headlines, the Odaa tree offers a quiet but powerful alternative.
Under its shade, we are reminded that we are all connected. That dialogue is stronger than division. That peace is not a luxury—it is a necessity.
The Call Remains the Same
Eight years ago, the youth of Oromia gathered at Odaa Bulluq and said: “We choose peace. We choose dialogue. We choose unity.”
Today, that call remains as urgent as ever.
“Peace and unity for everyone!”
This was the message that echoed beneath the Odaa eight years ago. And it is the message that must echo today—across Oromia, across Ethiopia, and across the world.
“Odaan seenaa fi sirna Gadaa keessatti bakka itti murteen gurguddoon murteeffamu, araarri itti bu’udha.”
The Odaa tree in history and the Gadaa system is where great decisions are made, where reconciliation takes place.
May its shade continue to shelter those who seek peace.
Key Insights
| Aspect | Significance |
|---|---|
| Odaa Bulluq | One of five sacred Odaa trees of the Oromo people; a symbol of justice, peace, and reconciliation |
| The Gathering (2018) | Young Oromo activists (Qeerroo) assembled under the Odaa to seek peace and unity |
| Gadaa System | UNESCO-recognised indigenous governance system based on consensus and dialogue |
| Dialogue | Essential to Oromo culture; conflicts are resolved through discussion, not violence |
| Relevance Today | The same principles—peace, unity, dialogue—are urgently needed in the face of current tensions |
Under the Odaa, we are all equal. Under the Odaa, we are all one. Under the Odaa, peace is possible.
The World Has Not Seen Enough of Ethiopia: Inside the Nation’s Tourism Transformation
From ancient rock-hewn churches to the diplomatic corridors of Addis Ababa, Ethiopia is on a journey to turn its centuries-old heritage into a modern economic engine—with a message for the world: we are ready.
When Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed speaks about tourism, he does not just talk about beautiful places. He talks about potential—vast, untapped, waiting to be unlocked. In an interview with NBC Ethiopia, he laid out a vision that goes far beyond attracting visitors. It is about transforming Ethiopia’s story into opportunity, growth, and global recognition.
The central message is clear: turning Ethiopia’s potential into visible value—for Ethiopians and for the world.
The Untapped Wealth: A Nation of Wonders
Ethiopia’s challenge, the Prime Minister explained, is not the absence of attractions. It is turning immense potential into world-class destinations. The country possesses resources capable of captivating visitors from across the globe:
- Ancient heritage sites that tell stories of civilizations past
- Remarkable landscapes that range from soaring mountains to vast lowlands
- Unique wildlife and biodiversity found nowhere else on Earth
- Diverse cultures and natural environments that reflect the richness of Ethiopian identity
Yet for decades, this wealth remained largely invisible to the world. Visitors came—but they came for brief tours, seeing only a handful of sites before leaving. The infrastructure was inadequate; the destinations were limited; and the potential remained locked away.
That is changing.
From Heritage to Destinations: The Investment Strategy
Tourism, the Prime Minister emphasized, requires more than having historic places—it requires investment.
The government’s focus has been on four pillars:
1. Restoring and protecting heritage
Ethiopia’s historical treasures are not just tourist attractions—they are the soul of the nation. The Prime Minister highlighted the recovery of more than 35 Ethiopian heritage artefacts that had been lost, stolen, or taken away. This effort to bring home what was taken is part of a broader commitment to restoration.
2. Developing tourism destinations
Landmark initiatives like Dine for Sheger, Dine for the Nation, and Dine for a Generation have fundamentally reshaped Ethiopia’s tourism map. Unity Park, Sheger Park, and Entoto Park have transformed Addis Ababa. Halala Kela, Chebera Churchura, and Wenchi have blended natural beauty with historical footprints. Gorgora, Dembi, and Shebelle represent the next generation of destinations.
3. Expanding infrastructure
Roads, airports, and connectivity are being expanded to make destinations accessible. Where previously visitors might have struggled to reach remote sites, now improved infrastructure ensures smoother, safer journeys.
4. Strengthening digital access and visitor services
In a digital age, tourism requires more than physical infrastructure. Ethiopia is building the online presence and services that modern travellers expect.
Bringing the World to Ethiopia: The MICE Opportunity
The Prime Minister emphasized a specific opportunity often overlooked: MICE tourism—Meetings, Incentives, Conferences, and Exhibitions.
With Addis Ababa’s role as Africa’s diplomatic capital—home to the African Union and numerous international organisations—and Ethiopian Airlines’ global connectivity, Ethiopia has the foundation to attract international conferences and business visitors. This is not just about leisure tourism; it is about positioning Ethiopia as a hub for global dialogue and commerce.
In the first nine months of the recent budget year alone, Addis Ababa hosted approximately 150 international and continental events—a 50% increase compared to the previous year—injecting 155 billion Birr into the economy. These numbers reflect the growing recognition of Ethiopia’s capacity to host the world.
When Investment Meets Results
The Prime Minister’s message is that tourism is now showing measurable progress:
- Growing international visitors—attracted by new destinations and improved services
- Expanding domestic tourism—as Ethiopians discover their own heritage
- Increasing tourism revenue—contributing to economic transformation
- More international conferences—hosted in Addis Ababa
Tourism is becoming part of Ethiopia’s broader economic transformation alongside agriculture, industry, mining, and technology. It is not an add-on; it is a pillar.
The Story Belongs to Every Ethiopian
Perhaps the most striking part of the Prime Minister’s message is this: tourism cannot be built by government alone. It requires every citizen.
Every interaction matters. From airports and hotels to drivers, guides, businesses, artists, media, and ordinary citizens—each person is an ambassador for Ethiopia. Visitors form their impressions not just through brochures but through the warmth, professionalism, and integrity of the people they encounter.
The message is simple and powerful: Know Ethiopia. Present Ethiopia with dignity. Share its story with the world.
This is not just about economic gain. It is about national pride and the right to tell one’s own story.
A Vision for the Future
The Prime Minister’s vision is ambitious yet grounded. He sees a future where Ethiopia is not just a destination for the few who have heard of its wonders, but a global icon of hospitality, heritage, and hope.
The era of limited destinations is over. The infrastructure is being built. The heritage is being restored. The world is being invited.
And at the heart of it all is a simple belief: the world has not seen enough of Ethiopia—but it will.
“Together, let’s work to further increase the contribution of the tourism industry to national growth.”
This is the call. And Ethiopia is answering.
Celebrating Muhuba: A Story of Kindness in Crisis
When a labouring patient arrived alone, unable to speak English, ISS placemaker Muhuba didn’t hesitate. She was on her way home from a cleaning shift at The Royal Women’s Hospital when she got a call—and she turned around without a second thought.
It was the end of a long shift. Muhuba had spent her day cleaning at The Royal Women’s Hospital in Melbourne—ensuring that rooms were sanitised, surfaces were spotless, and the environment was safe for patients, families, and staff. She was tired. She was heading home.
Then her phone rang.
On the other end was a voice from the hospital, asking if she could help. A labouring patient had arrived alone. She was scared. She couldn’t speak English. And staff had just discovered that Muhuba spoke her language.
Muhuba didn’t hesitate. She turned around and came straight back.
“I just wanted to help,” she said.
A Labour of Love
What happened next would change a woman’s birth experience—and inspire people around the world.
Muhuba was quickly thrown a pair of scrubs and rushed into the operating theatre. For the next five hours, she stayed by the patient’s side. She held her hand. She spoke to her in her own language. She calmed her fears.
She was not a midwife, a nurse, or a doctor. She was a placemaker—a cleaner. But in that moment, she was the only person who could truly communicate with a terrified mother about to bring a new life into the world.
The woman gave birth safely, comforted by the presence of someone who spoke her words, understood her heart, and gave her the dignity of being heard.
The Kind of Care That Transcends Job Titles
At The Royal Women’s Hospital, patient safety and comfort are paramount. But sometimes, the most profound care comes from unexpected places. Muhuba’s story is a testament to the fact that compassion does not require a clinical degree—it requires a human heart.
In her five hours in the theatre, Muhuba was not just translating words. She was translating trust. She was bridging the gap between a foreign medical system and a terrified mother. She was giving that woman the single most powerful gift a caregiver can offer: the feeling that she was not alone.
When the award nomination was announced, those who know Muhuba were not surprised. Her act was not a one-time gesture—it is a reflection of who she is. Every day, staff at the Women’s see the quiet dignity and dedication of workers like Muhuba, who clean rooms, deliver meals, and ensure the hospital runs smoothly, often without recognition.
Recognition Across the World
Muhuba’s extraordinary kindness did not go unnoticed.
Last year, she was recognised with a state-wide award from ISS—the global facility services company that employs her. Her act of going above and beyond stood out as an example of the power of compassion in healthcare.
This year, she has been named one of four international finalists in a global awards program. In May, ISS will fly her to Denmark for the awards ceremony, where she will represent The Royal Women’s Hospital—and Australia—on the international stage.
It is a remarkable journey for a woman who was simply heading home after a shift and answered a call for help.
The Placemaker’s Role: More Than Cleaning
ISS describes its role as “placemaking”—creating environments where people thrive. Muhuba’s story exemplifies this mission. In a hospital setting, the role of cleaning staff is often invisible, taken for granted. Yet without them, the hospital could not function. They are the quiet guardians of hygiene, the unseen hands that ensure safety, and, as Muhuba proved, sometimes the most compassionate voices in a time of crisis.
Muhuba’s willingness to drop everything and stay for five hours speaks to a deeper philosophy: care is not confined to job descriptions. It is a human duty, a moral impulse, and a gift that can be given by anyone, regardless of their title.
A Hospital Community That Cheers Her On
The Royal Women’s Hospital has expressed profound pride in Muhuba’s recognition. In a social media post celebrating her achievement, they wrote:
“We are incredibly proud of Muhuba and the compassion she brings to our hospital community. Join us in cheering her on as she represents the Women’s on the international stage.”
The post resonated widely—drawing thousands of reactions, comments, and shares. People from around the world responded with admiration. They saw in Muhuba’s story something universal: the power of one person to make a difference when it matters most.
One commenter wrote: “This is what true compassion looks like. Thank you, Muhuba, for showing the world that kindness has no boundaries.”
Another said: “She may not have a clinical degree, but she has a degree in humanity. This is the kind of care we all need.”
The Language of Kindness
Muhuba’s act of kindness also highlights a broader issue in healthcare: the importance of language access and culturally safe care.
Australia is one of the most multicultural nations in the world, yet language remains a significant barrier to equitable healthcare. Patients who cannot speak English are often at risk of miscommunication, misdiagnosis, and poor health outcomes. They may feel isolated, frightened, and unable to advocate for themselves.
Muhuba’s presence in that theatre was more than comfort—it was clinical necessity. She ensured that a mother could understand what was happening, could express her fears, and could consent to her care with full understanding. In doing so, she helped deliver not just a baby, but a safer, more dignified birth experience.
Her story reminds us that health systems must invest in language services, translation support, and cultural safety training—and that sometimes, the most effective support is the person who simply speaks your language and holds your hand.
From Melbourne to Denmark
In May, when Muhuba boards a plane for Denmark, she will carry with her the hopes of her colleagues, her community, and the thousands of people who have been moved by her story.
She will stand on an international stage, not as a doctor or a nurse, but as a placemaker—a cleaner—who proved that compassion is the highest qualification of all.
Her recognition is not just personal. It is a tribute to all the invisible workers in hospitals around the world: the cleaners, the porters, the kitchen staff, the administrative workers—everyone who contributes to healing without wearing a white coat.
They are the backbone of healthcare. And Muhuba has shown the world just how powerful their contribution can be.
A Message to Us All
Muhuba’s story is a challenge—and an invitation.
It challenges us to recognise that kindness is always possible, even when we are tired, even when we are heading home, even when it is not “our job.”
It invites us to see the humanity in everyone, to reach out when someone is in need, and to understand that the smallest gestures—a held hand, a spoken word, a calm presence—can change a person’s entire experience.
As one commenter wrote: “Not all heroes wear capes. Some wear scrubs and hold hands.”
Muhuba is one of those heroes. And soon, the world will have a chance to celebrate her.
Join Us in Cheering Her On
The Royal Women’s Hospital is inviting everyone to join in celebrating Muhuba’s international recognition.
“We couldn’t be prouder of Muhuba,” the hospital said. “She represents the very best of who we are—people who care, who go above and beyond, and who make a difference when it matters most.”
When Muhuba heads to Denmark in May, she will be carrying more than her own story. She will be carrying the stories of countless patients who have been comforted by someone like her—someone who chose compassion over convenience, kindness over exhaustion.
She is an inspiration to the entire hospital community. And now, she is inspiring the world.
Muhuba, we are so proud of you. Your kindness has already changed lives—and it will continue to do so as your story travels around the world. Congratulations on this well-deserved recognition, and thank you for showing us all the power of a compassionate heart.
The Royal Women’s Hospital is Australia’s largest specialist women’s hospital, providing care for women and newborns across Victoria and beyond. Founded in 1856, the hospital is committed to excellence in clinical care, research, and advocacy for women’s health.
The Ceremony of Nyaachisaa: A Sacred Rite of Humanity and Renewal at Ardaa Jilaa Daawwitii Borbor
In the heart of Borana, the ancient Gadaa tradition comes alive as the community gathers to celebrate the Nyaachisaa ceremony—a profound rite of passage that honours brotherhood, culture, and the sacred bonds that unite the Borana people.
At Ardaa Jilaa Daawwitii Borboritti in East Borana Zone, Dhaasii district, a powerful cultural ceremony is unfolding. The sons of Guyyoo Gobbaa Bulee—the revered elder and former Abbaa Gadaa—are conducting the Nyaachisaa ritual, a sacred feast that embodies the values of brotherhood (waloomaa), mutual respect, and cultural preservation .
“Nagaan Gooroo marmaaraa ga’aa, gammee buufadha!”
This invocation—”Peace to the Gooroo Marmaaraa, enter the assembly!”—echoes across the gathering, summoning participants to a celebration that is both ancient and vibrantly alive.
Understanding Nyaachisaa: More Than a Feast
The Nyaachisaa ceremony is far more than a simple communal meal. It is a sacred rite within the Borana Gadaa system, marking important transitions and reaffirming the social fabric of the community. The ritual is closely tied to the Gadaa cycle, the indigenous democratic system that has governed the Borana people for centuries .
The Gadaa system, recognised by UNESCO as an Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity, is a sophisticated form of governance that operates in eight-year cycles . Every eight years, power is transferred from one Abbaa Gadaa (customary ruler) to his successor, a process that involves elaborate ceremonies and rituals . The recent installation of the 72nd Abbaa Gadaa, Guyo Boru Guyo, demonstrates that this tradition remains vibrantly alive .
The Nyaachisaa ceremony is one of the rituals associated with this system. The term nyaachisaa refers to the ritual of “feeding” or “causing to eat”—a symbolic act that carries deep meaning.
The Meaning Behind the Ritual
When the sons of Guyyoo Gobbaa Bulee conduct the Nyaachisaa ceremony, they are participating in a tradition that has been passed down through countless generations. The ritual involves:
- Communal Slaughter: The slaughter of a bull (sangaa) is central to the ceremony. The bull is not just a source of food—it is a sacrificial offering that carries profound spiritual and symbolic meaning . The Borana believe that before slaughtering, they must first bless the animal through a ritual called ariracha, asking for blessings to prosper both people and livestock .
- Food as Social Bond: The meat from the slaughtered bull is shared according to customary rules. The act of sharing meat—called jiffu—reinforces kinship ties and social obligations, strengthening the bonds between families, clans, and the broader community .
- Cultural Preservation: Through the Nyaachisaa ceremony, the Borana preserve not just their culinary heritage but also the values of solidarity, mutual support, and respect for elders .
The Sacred Setting: Ardaa Jilaa and the Odaa Tree
The ceremony takes place at Ardaa Jilaa Daawwitii Borboritti—a sacred site of immense cultural significance to the Borana people. In Borana tradition, ardaa jilaa refers to a sacred gathering place, often associated with the odaa tree (sycamore fig tree) .
The odaa tree holds profound symbolic meaning in Oromo culture. Most Gadaa rituals are performed in the shade of this tree, and both the tree and the surrounding area are fully protected as sacred spaces . The tree represents life, wisdom, and the continuity of tradition across generations.
At these sacred sites, cultural ceremonies like Nyaachisaa reaffirm the community’s connection to their ancestors and the land.
The Role of Abbaa Gadaa and Elders
The involvement of Guyyoo Gobbaa Bulee and his sons in the Nyaachisaa ceremony is particularly significant. Guyyoo Gobbaa Bulee was a retired Abbaa Gadaa who, along with Guyyo Boru, served as a main speaker during the Gumi Ganyo Assembly—a traditional gathering where community issues are discussed and resolved according to custom (aada) and law (seera) .
The elders play a crucial role in Borana society:
- Preserving Knowledge: Elders are the keepers of oral history, laws, and rituals .
- Teaching the Next Generation: They train young initiates about history, laws, and the function of the Gadaa system .
- Resolving Conflicts: The Abbaa Gadaa is responsible for solving feuds and disputes, often related to cattle-raiding and access to resources .
The Nyaachisaa ceremony is therefore not just a celebration—it is an educational moment where younger generations learn the values and traditions that define their identity.
Food as Identity: The Significance of Koche
One of the central elements of the Nyaachisaa ceremony is the preparation and sharing of koche, a traditional meat dish that has deep cultural significance .
What is Koche?
Koche is a nutritious and rich food made from meat, fat, and other ingredients. It is highly regarded in Borana culture and is:
- A Symbol of Hospitality: Koche is prepared for important guests and during ceremonies. It is a sign of respect and generosity .
- An Expression of Love: Beyond its nutritional value, koche is also a food of passion. Women would prepare it for their lovers—even secret ones—as an expression of love. If discovered, the lover would be fined a cow to appease the husband .
- A Measure of Status: Among Borana women, it was considered embarrassing for their traditional storage container (dhibe) for meat to be empty. Women of substance were expected to have koche in their dhibe at all times .
Communal Preparation
The preparation of koche is a communal affair involving elders, women, herders, and villagers. The process takes days of careful planning :
- Women fetch water and firewood and prepare a mat-like structure called sage for holding the meat.
- Men are involved in the slaughter and butchering of the bull.
- The community comes together to share in the meal, strengthening social ties and reaffirming collective identity.
This communal effort reflects the Borana belief that food is not just fuel for the body but nourishment for social relationships.
The Values of Waloomaa and Obbolummaa
The Nyaachisaa ceremony embodies the Borana values of waloomaa (cohesion) and obbolummaa (siblinghood). The sharing of meat is a physical expression of these values. As one analysis of Borana culture explains, eating together (commensality) is more than just sharing and consuming food—it strengthens kinship ties and friendship.
When the sons of Guyyoo Gobbaa Bulee conduct the Nyaachisaa ceremony at Ardaa Jilaa Daawwitii Borboritti, they are not just feeding the community. They are:
- Honouring their father: Guyyoo Gobbaa Bulee’s legacy as an elder and former Abbaa Gadaa is celebrated and passed on.
- Reinforcing brotherhood: The act of sharing meat reminds everyone of their obligations to one another.
- Preserving culture: The ceremony ensures that ancient traditions continue to have meaning in the present.
The Bigger Picture: Gadaa and Cultural Preservation
The Nyaachisaa ceremony at Ardaa Jilaa Daawwitii Borboritti is part of a broader cultural renaissance among the Borana and Oromo peoples. Despite centuries of pressure and challenges, the Gadaa system has survived:
- UNESCO Recognition: In 2016, the Gadaa system was added to UNESCO’s list of Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity, acknowledging its significance as one of Africa’s oldest democratic governance systems .
- Cross-Border Significance: The Gadaa system unites Borana communities across national borders—in both Ethiopia and Kenya .
- A Living Tradition: The Gadaa system is not a museum piece but a living, dynamic tradition that continues to evolve while maintaining its core values .
As one Borana elder explained, the age-set system (hariya) may end when members die, but the generation-set system (luba) continues forever—a cycle of renewal that keeps the community alive .
Conclusion: The Feast That Feeds the Soul
The Nyaachisaa ceremony at Ardaa Jilaa Daawwitii Borboritti is a powerful reminder of what makes the Borana people unique—their commitment to brotherhood, their respect for elders, their connection to the land, and their ability to preserve their culture across generations.
“Nagaan Gooroo marmaaraa ga’aa, gammee buufadha!”
Peace has come to the Gooroo Marmaaraa—the ritual journey from one sacred site to another . The assembly is called. The bull is slaughtered. The koche is shared. And through this ancient rite, the Borana people reaffirm who they are and what they stand for.
In a changing world, the Nyaachisaa ceremony remains a source of identity, solidarity, and hope. It is a feast that feeds not just the body but the soul—a testament to a people who refuse to forget their past even as they face the future.
The Nyaachisaa ceremony honours the wisdom of elders, the strength of community, and the enduring values of humanity, respect, and cultural pride.
Exploring the Intellectual Legacy of the Oromo Struggle
The Oromo national movement, a tapestry of resistance, cultural revival, and political awakening, has been shaped by countless individuals. While the world often focuses on political leaders and activists, the intellectual and artistic foundations of the struggle are equally vital. Three figures—Professor Asmerom Legesse, Tesfaye Gebreab, and Teferi Berhane—stand as pillars of this movement, each contributing uniquely to the Oromo cause through scholarship, literature, and advocacy.
The Scholar Who Validated a Civilization: Professor Asmerom Legesse
If the Oromo struggle has an intellectual godfather, it is undoubtedly Professor Asmerom Legesse. Born in Asmara, Eritrea, in 1931, this Harvard-trained anthropologist dedicated his life to a singular, revolutionary mission: proving that Africa, and specifically the Oromo people, possessed a sophisticated democratic governance system long before the advent of Western constitutionalism.
His seminal works—Gadaa: Three Approaches to the Study of African Society (1973) and Oromo Democracy: An Indigenous African Political System (2000)—were not mere academic texts. They were intellectual weapons that dismantled colonial narratives that had long dismissed African governance as primitive. Legesse meticulously documented the Gadaa system, an indigenous Oromo governance structure based on age-sets, rotational leadership every eight years, and deliberative assemblies known as Gumi.
His work demonstrated that the Oromo had institutionalized principles of checks and balances, egalitarian participation, and rule-bound succession centuries before similar ideals emerged in Europe. This scholarship provided a powerful source of pride and legitimacy for the Oromo people, proving that their struggle was not for imported ideals but for the restoration of their own democratic heritage. His contributions were so profound that the United Nations formally registered the Gadaa system as an Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity in 2016, a recognition largely built upon his foundational research.
The Unlikely Voice of the Oppressed: Tesfaye Gebreab
While Legesse operated in the halls of academia, Tesfaye Gebreab brought the Oromo struggle to the masses through the power of literature. An Eritrean by birth but raised in the Oromo town of Bishoftu, Gebreab was a prolific author and journalist who achieved a literary first: he created the first Oromo main character in the vast history of Amharic literature.
His semi-historical novel, Yeburqa Zimita (The Silence of the Burqa), was a groundbreaking work that centered on the reflection and reaction of the Oromo people to centuries of marginalization and discrimination. In a literary landscape where Oromos were often relegated to the roles of housemaids and guards, Gebreab dared to place them at the heart of the narrative. He described himself as an “Eritrean by birth but an Oromo by experience and attachment”.
His work was deeply controversial; he was accused by some of fueling ethnic conflict. However, Gebreab defended his art as a product of historical fact and observation. By giving voice to the Oromo experience in the dominant language of the Ethiopian state, he challenged the very fabric of Ethiopian literary tradition and forced a national conversation about oppression and identity, making the Oromo struggle visible to a wider audience.
The Custodian of Knowledge: Teferi Berhane
The third pillar, Teferi Berhane, represents the modern, institutional effort to sustain and advance Oromo scholarship. While detailed public records of his early life are less prominent, his role as a leader within the Oromo Studies Association (OSA) marks him as a crucial figure in the struggle’s intellectual infrastructure.
The OSA, founded in 1986, was established to create an independent academic home for the study of Oromo history, culture, and identity at a time when such voices were systematically marginalized. Teferi Berhane served on the board and completed a term as the president of this vital organization. In this capacity, he helped guide an institution dedicated to producing and disseminating knowledge about the Oromo people.
His work involved not only academic administration but also direct engagement with Ethiopia’s political and economic challenges. He co-organized high-profile symposia on the country’s transition and contributed to economic policy papers addressing crises like youth unemployment. As a professor of development economics, Teferi Berhane represents the struggle’s future: a generation of scholars working within global institutions to build the intellectual and economic frameworks necessary for a just and prosperous Oromia.
A Unified Legacy
The contributions of these three men are distinct, yet they form a cohesive whole. Asmerom Legesse provided the historical and theoretical foundation, proving that the Oromo are a people with a rich democratic heritage. Tesfaye Gebreab translated that heritage into a living, breathing narrative, giving the Oromo a voice in the literary canon of their oppressors. And Teferi Berhane works to institutionalize this knowledge, ensuring that the struggle is sustained through rigorous scholarship and policy engagement.
Together, they demonstrate that the Oromo struggle is not just a political or military campaign, but a profound intellectual and cultural renaissance. They remind the world that the fight for justice is also a fight for truth, history, and the right to define one’s own identity. Their legacies are not just Oromo—they are a testament to the power of knowledge in the face of oppression.
The Land They Call Theirs: Finfinnee, Sacrifice, and the Unyielding Oromo Spirit
In the shadow of glass towers and concrete jungles, a people fight for a place to rest their heads—and a generation is called to rise.
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FINFINNEE — To the world, it is Addis Ababa, the diplomatic pulse of Africa and the seat of the African Union. To the Oromo, however, this city is Finfinnee—the “fountain of hot springs”—the ancestral heart of their nation, a land soaked in history, blood, and an unbreakable bond of identity.
But walk through the bustling streets of this sprawling metropolis today, and you will witness a profound paradox. Amidst the towering condominiums—the kumaa fi kitiloota that pierce the sky—and the maze of modern high-rises, the average Oromo finds themselves a stranger in their own heritage. As the poignant refrain of the community goes: “Oromoon lafa rooba itti dheeffuu fi gaaddiisa aduu jalaa itti goru hin qabu.” (An Oromo has no plot of land to catch the rain or find shade from the sun.)
Every inch of earth their feet touch, they must claim with their voice. The struggle for recognition, for belonging, and for the very Gullallee—the cherished, sacred ground of their forefathers—is not a passive memory. It is a living, daily confrontation.
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The Torchbearers of Resistance
In this crucible of resilience, certain names rise above the din of daily oppression. Figures like Jaal Daawud Ibsaa, the leader of the Adda Bilisummaa Oromoo (ABO), and Jaal Abdii Raggaasaa stand as defiant pillars. They are not merely politicians; they are the living embodiments of the Oromo quest for self-determination.
To the diaspora and the youth, these men represent the unwavering voice that refuses to be silenced. They walk a tightrope where every word is a potential weapon against them, yet they continue to champion the cause of Bilisummaa—freedom. Their presence sends a clear message to the establishment: the Oromo struggle is not a fleeting trend; it is a generational covenant.
The Waajjiira and the Galma—the historic meeting grounds and the dawn campaigns of resistance—are etched into the collective memory of the community. Though the enemy may have sealed off physical spaces, they cannot quarantine the spirit. The determination displayed in these spaces carries a meaning far greater than bricks and mortar; it is the architecture of a nation that refuses to be erased.
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The Cost of a Dawn
The Oromo struggle is defined by its staggering calculus of sacrifice—aarsaa fi wareegama (offering and commitment). How many lives have been laid down so that the sun of justice might rise over Finfinnee? How many mothers have wept for sons who dared to demand the rights enshrined in their own indigenous governance systems?
Yet, from these sacrifices, the movement draws its profound strength. The daily defiance, the quiet refusal to bow, and the bold resistance in the face of a caged dawn—barii ganamaa diinni cufe—is what gives the struggle its hiika guddaa (great meaning). It is the understanding that freedom is not given; it is taken through unyielding obsaa fi kutannoo (patience and determination).
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The Mandate of the Youth
This brings us to the most urgent call of all—a plea to the dhaloonni (the young generation).
The elders and the current leadership are clear in their message: “Kutannoo fi cichoomina kana sinirraa dhaaluu qaba!” (This resilience and steadfastness must be inherited by you!)
The youth of today are the custodians of tomorrow. The land, the history, and the dreams of those who came before rest squarely on their shoulders. They are called not just to remember, but to act. To take the torch from the hands of the Daawud Ibsaas and the Abdii Raggaasaas of the world and carry it forward with equal vigor.
In a city where the Oromo must prove their claim to every footstep they take, the youth are the living proof of the nation’s survival. They are the ones who must turn the Gullallee—the beloved land—from a symbol of ancestral loss into a foundation of future sovereignty.
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Land, Love, and Legacy
For the Oromo, Finfinnee is more than a geographical location. It is the soul of their identity. The love for this land—Lafa akka Oromootti qabnu (The land we hold as Oromo)—is not born of mere proximity; it is born of millennia of history, culture, and shared suffering.
As the city continues to modernize and globalize, the Oromo people are sending a clear and resolute message to the world and to their adversaries: We are the owners, and we are the lovers. We have the leaders, and we have the spirit. And we will not stop until the rain of justice falls on our own soil, and the sun of freedom shines on our own shade.
The names may change, the tactics may evolve, but the mission remains eternal. For the Oromo, the land of Finfinnee is, and always will be, Lafa Seenaa—a land of history. And history, as they know all too well, is written by those who refuse to give up the fight.
“Nu Xiiqessitan Malee, Nu Hin Xiqqeessine”: The Unbreakable Spirit of a People
“You may have belittled us, but you have not made us small.” These words carry the weight of generations—a defiant declaration that no amount of oppression can diminish the worth of a people.
There are phrases that transcend language. They are not merely words—they are testimonies. They are the cries of ancestors, the whispers of resistance, and the battle cries of those who refuse to be broken.
“Nu xiiqessitan malee, nu hin xiqqeessine.”
(You may have belittled us, but you have not made us small.)
This is one such phrase. It is a declaration of dignity in the face of humiliation. It is a refusal to accept the diminished status that oppressors have tried to impose. It is a reclaiming of pride, identity, and humanity.
The Weight of Belittlement
To be belittled is to be made to feel small. It is to have your language dismissed as backward, your culture labelled as primitive, and your humanity denied. Throughout history, colonisers, empires, and dominant groups have used belittlement as a weapon—not just to control bodies, but to crush spirits.
For the Oromo people, this experience is deeply familiar. For generations, they have been subjected to marginalisation, cultural suppression, and political exclusion. Their language, Afaan Oromo—one of the most widely spoken languages in the Horn of Africa—was systematically excluded from education and public life for decades. Their identity was erased through forced assimilation and the imposition of labels they never chose for themselves.
Yet, despite all of this, they endured. And they are not small.
The Power of Refusal
“Nu xiiqessitan malee, nu hin xiqqeessine.”
This phrase is not a plea—it is a refusal. It refuses the narrative that oppression defines the oppressed. It refuses to accept the oppressor’s verdict. It insists that worth is intrinsic, not bestowed by those in power.
There is profound wisdom in this refusal. It recognises that belittlement is a reflection of the oppressor’s cruelty, not the victim’s inadequacy. It understands that attempts to diminish a people are ultimately attempts to justify injustice—but they do not change the truth of who that people is.
This is the kind of resistance that sustained enslaved peoples, colonised nations, and marginalised communities throughout history. It is the quiet dignity of a grandmother who speaks her mother tongue despite being told it is worthless. It is the courage of a young person wearing traditional clothing in a world that demands conformity. It is the determination of a community that continues to celebrate its festivals, sing its songs, and tell its stories, even when the world tries to silence them.
The Danger of Internalising Belittlement
The most insidious effect of oppression is when the oppressed begin to believe the oppressor’s lies. When a people internalise the message that they are inferior, the battle is already half-lost.
This is why “nu xiiqessitan malee, nu hin xiqqeessine” is so powerful. It draws a clear line: the belittlement is their action, but the smallness is their fiction. We refuse to internalise it. We refuse to carry it. We will not let your judgment become our identity.
In psychology, this is known as maintaining a positive sense of self in the face of external devaluation. It is the resilience that allows individuals and communities to thrive despite systemic discrimination. And it is essential to survival.
A Call to the Diaspora
For Oromos living in the diaspora, this phrase carries particular resonance. Far from the homeland, the challenges are different but the stakes are just as high. In foreign lands, the pressures to assimilate, to forget, to become “invisible” can be immense.
Yet the message remains: “Nu xiiqessitan malee, nu hin xiqqeessine.”
You may not see us on the news. You may not hear our language in the halls of power. You may not know our history or our struggles. But we are here. We exist. We matter. And we refuse to be made small by your ignorance or indifference.
The diaspora is not a place of forgetting—it is a place of remembering. It is where language is preserved, culture is celebrated, and the next generation is taught who they are. It is proof that even when a people are scattered across the globe, they remain connected by blood, memory, and the unshakable bond of identity.
The Global Resonance
This phrase is not unique to any one people. Its echo can be heard across the world:
- “We may be a small nation, but we are a proud one.”
- “They tried to bury us, but they didn’t know we were seeds.”
- “You can kill the dreamer, but you can’t kill the dream.”
- “You may have conquered us, but you have not made us slaves.”
These are the words of every people who have been told they are lesser but refused to believe it. They are the words of Indigenous communities fighting for land rights. They are the words of minority languages resisting extinction. They are the words of women who have been told their voices don’t matter—and speak anyway.
“Nu xiiqessitan malee, nu hin xiqqeessine” is a universal truth dressed in the specific language and experience of the Oromo people. But its meaning belongs to all who have ever been told they are not enough—and refused to accept that verdict.
Living the Words
To say “nu xiiqessitan malee, nu hin xiqqeessine” is not just to speak—it is to act. It is to live in a way that defies the oppressor’s narrative. It is:
- Teaching your children your language, even when the world tells them it is useless.
- Celebrating your culture, even when you are a minority in a foreign land.
- Insisting on your history, even when textbooks omit or distort it.
- Demanding your rights, even when the system is stacked against you.
- Walking with dignity, even when others try to make you feel small.
A Future Built on Worth
The ultimate rejection of belittlement is not just survival—it is flourishing. It is building a future where Oromo children grow up knowing their history with pride. It is creating institutions that serve Oromo communities with dignity and respect. It is achieving political and economic empowerment that makes the old narratives of inferiority obsolete.
The oppressors wanted to make the Oromo small—small in ambition, small in voice, small in presence. But they failed. Because dignity cannot be taken—it can only be surrendered. And the Oromo people have not surrendered.
“Nu xiiqessitan malee, nu hin xiqqeessine.”
You may have belittled us. You may have tried to erase us. You may have told the world we are nothing.
But we are not nothing. We are a people. We are a history. We are a future. And we are not small.
In the end, the measure of a people is not what their oppressors say about them—but what they say about themselves. And the Oromo people have spoken: “We are not small.”
Nu hin xiqqeessine. We are not small. And we never will be.
Oromia is My Blood: The Unbreakable Bond of Identity, Land, and Memory
“Oromia is my blood” is more than a phrase. It is a declaration of belonging that runs deeper than politics—an ancestral connection that cannot be severed by distance or time.
For the Oromo people, identity is not something that can be chosen or changed like a political affiliation. It is something you are. It is carried in the language you speak, the customs you observe, and the land that shaped your ancestors. As one reflection on Oromo identity puts it: “A child born to Oromo parents carries Oromummaa in their blood whether they know politics or not. Oromummaa, in this sense, is sacred and unshakable.”
But what does it truly mean to say that Oromia is in one’s blood? It is a claim to history, to culture, to a homeland that has endured centuries of change and challenge—and to a people who have never stopped asserting their right to exist on their own terms.
A Land of Vastness and Significance
To understand why Oromia is so deeply woven into the identity of its people, one must first understand the land itself. Oromia is Ethiopia’s largest region, covering more than 350,000 square kilometres—an area larger than Italy or Côte d’Ivoire . It makes up 34% of Ethiopia’s landmass and shares borders with every other Ethiopian region except Tigray, as well as international boundaries with Sudan, South Sudan, and Kenya .
Its capital is Finfinne—also known as Addis Ababa—which serves both as the regional capital and the seat of Ethiopia’s federal government and the African Union .
The region is a powerhouse. Its fertile soils produce about half of Ethiopia’s total crop production, including coffee, teff, maize, and barley. Its mines yield gold, platinum, and iron ore. Its industries produce textiles, pharmaceuticals, and construction materials. In the 2021-2022 financial year alone, Oromia generated US$324 million from mining . For Oromos, this is not just statistics—it is the land of their fathers and mothers, the soil that has nourished generations.
Identity Forged Through Struggle
Yet the relationship between Oromia and its people has never been simple. For much of modern Ethiopian history, Oromos have been described as “always on the outside looking in” . The Ethiopian state, historically shaped by Amhara aristocracy, defined the terms of belonging—permitting Oromos to enter public life only as individuals, not as a collective .
The 20th century saw the rise of pan-Oromo consciousness. Scholars trace the emergence of Oromo nationalism and the assertion of the self-identifying name “Oromo”—replacing the externally imposed label “Galla”—as a powerful reclamation of dignity and identity . The formation of the Oromo Liberation Front and the growing force of Oromo ethno-nationalism reflected a people demanding to be seen and heard .
This struggle is not merely political—it is existential. It is about the right to speak Afaan Oromo without fear, to celebrate Irreecha openly, and to walk proudly in clothing that bears the red, black, and white of Oromo identity . As photographer Elias Badhaasaa put it: “I want us to be visible in the Horn of Africa and beyond” .
Culture as the Pulse of Identity
In recent years, a cultural renaissance has taken hold. Young Oromos are increasingly expressing ethnic pride through fashion, music, and art . Designers are modernising traditional Oromo garments, incorporating the iconic Odaa tree—a sacred symbol—into their creations .
The annual Irreecha thanksgiving festival, once a celebration that drew millions, has grown in national profile. In 2020, it was held in Addis Ababa for only the second time in history—a milestone that reflects the growing visibility of Oromo culture . Though tragedy struck the festival years earlier, the spirit of Oromo resilience has endured.
At the heart of this cultural awakening is Oromummaa—the essence of being Oromo . It is not a political ideology or a man-made theory. It is something older than the modern state itself. As one writer explains: “Oromummaa is seen in the way we respect elders, the way we greet with ‘Akkam?’, the way we celebrate Irreecha, and how we uphold principles of fairness (nagaa, araara, safuu)” .
Solidarity Beyond Ethnicity
Remarkably, the cry of “Oromia is my blood” has also resonated beyond the Oromo community. During mass protests in 2015 and 2016, Amhara protesters in Gondar chanted: “Oromo blood is our blood!” and “The killing of our Oromo brothers should stop!” . In Shambu, Wollega, demonstrators proclaimed: “Oromo blood is Amhara blood and Amhara blood is Oromo blood and we are inseparable” .
This solidarity threatened the ruling party’s long-standing strategy of pitting ethnic groups against one another. As one analysis observed: “The blood flowing in Oromia is our blood too”—these words are not just slogans but actions that exist as words, actions that threaten to unsettle the myths that hold together the ideological edifice of the system” .
For a moment, it seemed that shared suffering and shared hope could bridge historical divides. Whether that promise has been fulfilled remains an open question—but the sentiment itself speaks to the power of identity as a unifying force.
The Diaspora: Blood That Spans Oceans
For Oromos living in the diaspora—in the United States, Canada, Australia, Europe, and beyond—the phrase “Oromia is my blood” takes on a particular resonance. Far from the homeland, identity becomes both a lifeline and a burden. Political conditions in Ethiopia have encouraged exiled communities to construct “imagined landscapes” that evoke nostalgia and maintain engagement with homeland affairs .
These landscapes are not mere fantasy—they are integral to enduring memory. Most forced emigres involve themselves in the social and economic issues of their place of birth, rather than focusing only on their routines in host countries . The nexus between origin and host countries sustains a powerful form of transnationalism—a proof that home is not just a place, but a bond that travels.
Blood as Memory, Blood as Future
When Oromos say “Oromia is my blood,” they are saying something profound. They are claiming a history that precedes modern borders, a culture that has survived attempts at erasure, and a future that they intend to shape.
It is not about hatred of others. It is not about exclusion. It is about affirmation. It is about the right to speak a language, to tell a story, to honour ancestors, and to pass on a legacy.
As the reflection on Oromo identity concludes: “Let us celebrate it in its purest form—as the unshakable mark of a people who have endured, resisted, loved, and hoped through centuries” .
Oromia is not just a region on a map. It is blood memory. It is the rhythm of the shagoyyee drum. It is the poetry of Ali Birra. It is the wisdom of proverbs. It is the sacred Odaa tree. It is the land that gives life—and the people who give that land meaning.
“Oromia is my blood” is not just a phrase. It is a promise. A belonging. A truth that cannot be denied.
Echoes of a Martyr: Oromo Diaspora in New Zealand Marks 6th Anniversary of Haacaaluu Hundeessaa
AUCKLAND, New Zealand – The biting Southern Hemisphere wind did little to chill the fiery spirits gathered in the heart of New Zealand’s Oromo community this past weekend. For them, it was not merely another winter gathering; it was a sacred duty. With heavy hearts but unwavering resolve, the Oromo diaspora in Aotearoa convened to commemorate the 6th anniversary of the assassination of iconic artist and activist, Haacaaluu Hundeessaa.
The event, meticulously organized across various venues in the city, drew hundreds of community members, activists, and cultural figures. It was a moving tapestry of poetry, traditional music, and impassioned speeches—all woven together to ensure that the voice that was brutally silenced six years ago continues to reverberate across the globe.
A Service Beyond Art
In opening the commemorative program, community leaders and participants paid profound homage to the monumental legacy of the late artist. They passionately articulated that Haacaaluu was far more than a musician; he was a moral compass and a unifying symbol for the Oromo nation.
“Haacaaluu did not just sing melodies; he gave his life for the sake of the nation,” one participant stated, echoing the sentiment of the crowd. “His service was immense—he traded his personal safety for the collective hope of his people, and for that, we will forever be indebted.”
Attendees noted that the anniversary is not a time for sorrow alone but a moment to measure the weight of his sacrifice against the ongoing struggle for justice and recognition.
The Unfinished Revolution: Demanding Rights in Return
A central theme that permeated the discussions was the reciprocal duty of the Oromo people in light of Haacaaluu’s ultimate sacrifice. Speakers drew a clear, unflinching line between his service and the current political realities facing the Oromo nation.
“Haacaaluu gave us a mandate. His blood and his art demand a response from the Oromo people,” community elders declared. “We must respond to his sacrifice by vigorously demanding our inalienable rights. The struggle he represents is not just about remembering the past; it is about securing a future where the Oromo people have their rightful place and justice is finally served.”
For the diaspora in New Zealand, this call to action serves as a bridge linking their peaceful lives in the Pacific to the turbulent realities of their homeland. They view his legacy as a catalyst to amplify the Oromo cause on the international stage, reminding the world that the quest for self-determination remains urgent.
A History Carved in Stone, A Mission Written in Blood
The speakers emphasized that Haacaaluu Hundeessaa has etched an indelible mark on the historical consciousness of the Horn of Africa. They noted that his artistry captured the pain, resilience, and unyielding spirit of a people who have long been marginalized.
“Haacaaluu created a history that cannot and will not be erased,” organizers stated emphatically. “His songs have become the anthems of our liberation. But remembering is not enough.”
In a powerful call to the younger generation, community leaders urged the Oromo diaspora to act as the custodians of his unfinished mission. “We must not let his good works die with him,” they advised. “The onus is upon us—specifically those of us living in freedom here in New Zealand—to continue the good works he championed. We must carry his torch forward, not just in our songs, but in our educational efforts, our political advocacy, and our unwavering pursuit of justice.”
The Legacy Continues
As the commemoration drew to a close, the poignant strains of Haacaaluu’s most famous anthems echoed through the hall, leaving not a dry eye in the house but filling hearts with a renewed sense of purpose. For the Oromo community in New Zealand, the 6th anniversary was a testament to the fact that while the man may be gone, the movement he inspired is more alive than ever.
In the quiet suburbs of Auckland, far from the hills of his homeland, Haacaaluu’s spirit finds a permanent home. The community’s message was unequivocal: his sacrifice was not in vain, and his dream of dignity and justice for the Oromo nation will be pursued with relentless vigor until it is fully realized.
The Sacred Trust: Why Workplace Confidentiality Is a Duty Beyond Law
In every workplace, there are lines that should never be crossed—and confidentiality is one of them. It is not just a rule; it is a promise.
A colleague shares a private frustration over coffee. A manager casually discusses sensitive restructuring plans. A personnel file is left open on a shared screen. An email containing personal information is forwarded without a second thought.
In the moment, these seem like small slips—harmless, even human. But the consequences can ripple far beyond what anyone anticipates.
“Namni kamuu iccitii mana hojii eeguuf dirqama qaba.”
(Every person has a duty to protect workplace confidentiality.)
This is not merely a bureaucratic requirement tucked into employment contracts. It is a fundamental pillar of trust, professionalism, and ethical conduct. And when that trust is broken, the damage can be profound—not only to individuals but to entire organisations, communities, and lives.
What Is Workplace Confidentiality?
Workplace confidentiality refers to the obligation of employees to protect sensitive information they encounter in the course of their work. This includes:
- Personal information about colleagues, clients, and customers
- Financial data and business strategies
- Medical records and health information
- Performance reviews and disciplinary matters
- Trade secrets and proprietary knowledge
- Internal communications and decision-making processes
Whether it is spoken in a meeting, written in an email, or stored in a database, such information is entrusted to employees on the understanding that it will be handled with care and discretion.
The Line Between Sharing and Violating
We live in an age of oversharing. Social media encourages us to broadcast our thoughts, workplace chat platforms blur the boundaries between professional and personal, and the ease of forwarding an email can make us forget that some messages were never meant to be shared.
But there is a clear and important distinction.
“Namni tokko iccitiin namoota dhuunfaa baasee maxxansuu fi saaxiluun dhorkaa dha.”
(It is forbidden for a person to disclose and share private information with others.)
This is not merely a suggestion—it is a legal and ethical obligation. In Australia, privacy laws such as the Privacy Act 1988 (Cth) and the Australian Privacy Principles (APPs) regulate how personal information must be handled, and breaches can result in serious penalties. Beyond the legal consequences, there are reputational and relational costs that can take years to repair.
When Confidentiality Is Broken: Real-World Consequences
Consider the real-world impact of a breach:
A team leader casually mentions in a group meeting that a staff member is struggling with a health condition. The staff member feels exposed and humiliated, their trust shattered. Colleagues begin to treat them differently, and the workplace atmosphere becomes strained. The staff member may even leave the organisation, taking their talent and experience elsewhere.
A payroll officer accidentally emails salary details to the entire company. The fallout is immediate—resentment, comparisons, and a breakdown in morale that affects productivity for months. Trust in management evaporates, and the company’s culture is damaged for years.
An employee posts about a confidential client dispute on social media. The client discovers the post, files a complaint, and the company’s reputation is irreparably damaged. The employee is terminated, and the company loses a valuable contract—and potentially many more.
A healthcare worker shares a patient’s medical details with friends. The patient feels violated, their privacy destroyed. They may lose trust in the entire healthcare system, avoiding necessary care in the future. The worker faces disciplinary action, loss of registration, and potential legal consequences.
These are not hypothetical scenarios. They happen every day in workplaces across the world—in hospitals, schools, government offices, and corporate boardrooms.
Why Confidentiality Matters
Confidentiality is not about secrecy for its own sake. It is about:
1. Respect for Individuals
Every person has a right to privacy. When we respect that right, we affirm the dignity and worth of our colleagues, clients, and stakeholders. We acknowledge that their personal information belongs to them—not to us.
2. Building Trust
Trust is the currency of effective workplaces. Employees who feel their private information is safe are more likely to speak openly, seek help when needed, and contribute fully to their teams. Trust is hard-won and easily lost. Once broken, it is rarely fully restored.
3. Protecting the Organisation
A breach of confidentiality can expose an organisation to legal liability, financial loss, and reputational harm. In competitive industries, it can also hand advantages to rivals. The cost of a data breach—in fines, legal fees, and lost business—can run into the millions.
4. Maintaining Professional Standards
In professions such as healthcare, law, social work, and finance, confidentiality is not just expected—it is mandated by codes of conduct and professional ethics. Breaches can result in loss of professional registration, ending careers.
5. Protecting Vulnerable People
For clients and customers who are vulnerable—such as those seeking mental health support, financial advice, or legal assistance—confidentiality is essential. Without it, they may not seek help at all. The consequences can be devastating.
Striking a Balance
Of course, confidentiality does not mean silence in the face of wrongdoing. Whistleblower protections exist to allow employees to report illegal or unethical behaviour without fear of retaliation. The distinction lies in the purpose and intent of the disclosure.
Sharing information to expose corruption, protect public safety, or prevent harm is fundamentally different from gossiping about a colleague’s personal struggles or leaking sensitive data for personal gain.
The key questions to ask:
- Is there a legitimate public interest in this disclosure?
- Is the information being shared through proper channels?
- Is the motivation to protect, or to harm?
What Every Employee Should Remember
“Kun seeraanis ta’ee naamusaan kan eegamuu dha.”
(This is to be upheld both by law and by conscience.)
Workplace confidentiality is a dual obligation—it is written into contracts and legislation, but it is also a matter of personal integrity. The law can penalise breaches, but it is conscience that should guide us in the moment of decision.
Before sharing information, ask yourself:
- Does this person have a legitimate need to know?
- Am I authorised to share this?
- Could this cause harm or embarrassment to anyone?
- Would I be comfortable if this were shared about me?
- Is this information protected by law or professional ethics?
If the answer to any of these questions gives you pause, it is likely better to remain silent.
A Shared Responsibility
Confidentiality is not just the responsibility of managers, HR professionals, or legal teams. It belongs to every single person in the workplace.
It means:
- Locking your screen when you step away from your desk
- Not discussing sensitive matters in public spaces like elevators or cafeterias
- Thinking twice before forwarding an email or sharing a document
- Saying, “I’m sorry, I can’t discuss that,” even when pressed by curious colleagues
- Properly disposing of confidential documents (shredding, not just recycling)
- Using secure communication channels for sensitive information
In an era of information overload and digital permanence, discretion has become a rare and valuable quality. Those who practise it are trusted more, respected more, and ultimately succeed more in their careers.
The Cost of Silence—and the Cost of Speaking
Sometimes, the most difficult ethical decision is knowing when to speak and when to remain silent.
Speak when:
- You are reporting illegal activity or serious misconduct through proper channels
- You have a legal obligation to disclose (such as mandatory reporting of child abuse)
- There is an immediate risk of serious harm
Remain silent when:
- You are tempted to share gossip or personal information about colleagues
- You do not have authorisation to share the information
- The information could be used to harm or embarrass someone
The Bottom Line
Workplace confidentiality is not a constraint—it is a protection. It protects individuals from harm, organisations from liability, and workplaces from the corrosive effects of mistrust.
When we honour confidentiality, we send a clear message: We value you. We respect your privacy. And we will not betray your trust.
That is not just a legal requirement. It is a promise—one that every ethical professional should be proud to keep.
In the end, the question is not whether we can share something. The question is whether we should. And sometimes, the most powerful thing we can say is nothing at all.
Key Takeaways
| Principle | Action |
|---|---|
| Respect privacy | Only share information with those who have a legitimate need to know |
| Understand the law | Familiarise yourself with privacy legislation and your organisation’s policies |
| Think before sharing | Ask yourself: Is this authorised? Could it cause harm? |
| Use secure channels | Protect digital and physical information from unauthorised access |
| Speak up through proper channels | Report misconduct, but do so responsibly |
| Lead by example | Model confidentiality in your own behaviour |
Confidentiality is not about hiding problems—it is about protecting people. When we get that right, we build workplaces that are safer, more trusting, and more effective for everyone.
Breaking the Silence: The Cost of Complicity in the Face of Injustice
By Dhabessa Wakjira
In the annals of human history, some of the darkest chapters were not written by tyrants alone. They were co-authored by the silence of those who witnessed evil and chose to look away, who heard the cries of the oppressed and chose to hear nothing, who saw injustice unfolding and chose to remain still.
“Remaining silent like sheep is the source of our problems,” the saying goes. “Failing to respond to those who are oppressing people with falsehoods is turning many just people into victims.”
These words carry a weight that transcends any single community or era. They speak to a universal truth: silence is not neutrality. Silence is a choice, and in the face of oppression, it is a choice that sides with the oppressor.
The Anatomy of Silence
Throughout history, silence has been the soil in which tyranny flourishes. The Holocaust did not begin with gas chambers; it began with whispers, with the gradual dehumanisation of neighbours, with the silence of those who saw their Jewish friends being marginalised and said nothing. The Rwandan Genocide was not spontaneous; it was enabled by the silence of the international community, which refused to call what was happening by its name. The enslavement of millions was sustained not only by chains but by the silence of those who profited from human suffering and those who looked the other way.
In the Oromo context, this silence has taken many forms. Political persecution has often been met with a deafening quiet from those in positions of power. Human rights abuses have been documented yet ignored. Communities have been displaced, lives have been destroyed, and voices have been silenced.
The question is not whether oppression exists—it does, in many forms, in many places. The question is: what are we doing about it?
The False Comfort of Neutrality
There is a dangerous myth that silence is a form of neutrality. Many believe that by staying out of political or social struggles, they are remaining impartial, above the fray, wise in their restraint.
This is a delusion.
As the philosopher Edmund Burke famously observed, “The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.” When we fail to respond to falsehoods, we allow them to become accepted truths. When we fail to challenge oppression, we allow it to become normalised. When we fail to speak for the voiceless, we become complicit in their suffering.
Silence is not a safe harbour; it is a choice to abandon the moral high ground.
The Weaponisation of Lies
In today’s world, falsehoods are weaponised with unprecedented sophistication. Disinformation campaigns, propaganda, and the deliberate distortion of truth are tools used to divide communities, incite hatred, and justify atrocities.
Those who oppress rely on the silence of the masses. When a lie is repeated often enough and loudly enough, and when no one challenges it, it begins to wear the mask of truth. In this environment, even the most just individuals can find themselves victimised—not just by the direct violence of the oppressor but by the collective silence that allows the oppressor to act with impunity.
When a community is falsely accused of violence, and good people remain silent, that community suffers. When a political leader spreads hatred against a minority, and people of conscience say nothing, that minority is endangered. When human rights abuses are reported, and no one demands accountability, the abuses continue.
The Courage to Speak
To break this cycle, we must cultivate the courage to speak. This courage is not always easy—it often comes with a cost. Speaking truth to power can lead to persecution, ostracism, or worse. But the cost of silence is far greater.
Speaking out does not always mean taking to the streets or publishing manifestos. It can take many forms:
- Amplifying the voices of the oppressed: Sharing their stories, supporting their struggles, and ensuring their perspectives are heard
- Challenging falsehoods: When you hear a lie about a community or individual, correct it. Do not let hate speech go unchallenged
- Using your privilege: If you have access to platforms that others do not, use them to speak for those who cannot
- Educating yourself and others: Understanding the issues, the history, and the context of oppression is the first step to effective action
- Supporting organisations that fight for justice: Many organisations work tirelessly to document human rights abuses, provide legal aid to the oppressed, and advocate for political change. They need support
The Power of Solidarity
Throughout history, solidarity has been the antidote to silence. When communities stand together, they create a force that oppressors cannot ignore.
The civil rights movement in the United States succeeded not only because of the courage of African Americans but because of the solidarity of people from all backgrounds who refused to be silent. The anti-apartheid movement in South Africa was sustained by global solidarity that isolated the regime and demanded change. The struggle of the Oromo people is no different—it requires solidarity from within and beyond the community.
Solidarity means recognising that the oppression of any group is a threat to all groups. It means understanding that the forces that silence one voice will eventually silence all voices. It means refusing to be divided by the false narratives that oppressors use to fragment potential resistance.
A Call to Action
The time for silence is over. The time for speaking, for action, and for solidarity is now. Every voice that rises in defence of justice strengthens the collective resolve. Every hand that reaches out to support the oppressed builds a barrier against injustice. Every person who refuses to be complicit through silence transforms the landscape of possibility.
Those who oppress rely on division and fear. They rely on us remaining silent, on us being too afraid to speak, too comfortable to act, too indifferent to care.
Let us prove them wrong.
Let us break the silence.
Let us stand with the oppressed, not as passive bystanders but as active participants in the struggle for justice, truth, and humanity.
“The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good people to do nothing.” – Edmund Burke
#BreakTheSilence #JusticeForAll #Oromo #Solidarity #SpeakTruth #NoMoreComplicity
Navigating Loss: A Guide to Grief Support for Oromo Families in Victoria
By Staff Reporter
MELBOURNE, VICTORIA – The loss of a loved one is always difficult. For members of the Oromo community living in Victoria, that difficulty is often deepened by a profound sense of isolation. Families may feel far from their homeland, uncertain of the local systems, and unsure where to turn for help .
Yet, no one needs to navigate this time alone. Whether it is practical assistance with funeral arrangements, financial support, or emotional comfort, there are organisations and services ready to help.
Finding Community: The Australian Oromo Community Association in Victoria (AOCAV)
One of the most vital resources for the Oromo community in Victoria is the Australian Oromo Community Association in Victoria Inc. (AOCAV) . Founded in 1984 by the first Oromo pioneers who migrated to Australia as refugees, the association has served as a cornerstone of support for the Oromo community .
The association understands the significance of traditional rituals and rites of passage, including those surrounding death . When a family member passes, reaching out to AOCAV can provide:
- Cultural guidance – assistance in ensuring that funeral arrangements respect Oromo customs and traditions
- Community support – mobilising the local community to offer practical help and emotional comfort
- Referrals – directing families to funeral directors and other relevant services
Practical Steps: Organising a Funeral in Victoria
When a death occurs, one of the first practical steps is to contact a funeral director . Several funeral directors in Melbourne have experience serving Victoria’s diverse communities.
One prominent provider is Le Pine Funerals, with over 130 years of service in Victoria. They are committed to serving the state’s “diverse and harmonious community, catering to all cultures, religions and traditions” and have a multilingual team ready to assist in arranging funerals in over 140 languages . For families seeking services that specifically cater to multicultural communities, Le Pine Asian offers personalised funeral services with experienced multilingual staff who can accommodate individual wishes and cultural requirements .
Other trusted funeral providers in Victoria include Tobin Brothers Funerals, White Lady Funerals, and Simplicity Funerals .
When choosing a funeral director, it is helpful to discuss cultural or religious obligations. For Oromo families, this might include the desire for a burial as opposed to a cremation, specific rituals, or the need for a service conducted in the Oromo language or with an interpreter .
Financial Assistance and Practical Support
Funerals can be expensive . However, there are avenues for financial support.
Centrelink Payments – Services Australia provides several payments to help people after the death of a loved one . Depending on your situation, you may be eligible for a Bereavement Payment, a Pension Bonus Bereavement Payment, or bereavement assistance for carers .
If a person passes away without family or the means to pay for a funeral, the Victorian State Government has arrangements in place, with the Department of Health and Human Services potentially contributing .
Grief and Emotional Support
Beyond the practicalities, the emotional toll of losing a loved one is immense. Several national and state-based organisations offer free grief counselling and support.
- Lifeline – 24-hour crisis support: 13 11 14
- Australian Centre for Grief and Bereavement – Provides information on grief support and offers counselling services: 1800 642 066
- Grief Australia – Offers free bereavement counselling and support groups for all Victorians at their Mulgrave office and various locations, as well as telehealth services
- Grief Line – Telephone or online counselling: 1300 845 745
- Mensline Australia – Telephone support specifically for men: 1300 78 99 78
For those who have experienced the loss of a baby or child, Red Nose Australia provides specialist bereavement counselling and support free of charge, 24 hours a day, 7 days a week .
Wombat’s Wish is a grassroots not-for-profit organisation based in Clifton Springs that offers free therapeutic weekend grief programs and one-to-one counselling for children and young people who have lost a parent or carer .
Real Path Health and Wellbeing in Werribee specialises in trauma-informed counselling and grief and loss support for individuals and families, including multicultural communities .
Additionally, spiritual and pastoral support from faith communities is often a vital source of comfort for many in the Oromo community .
Specialised Support for CALD Communities
The Victorian Foundation for Survivors of Torture Inc. (Foundation House) has received substantial funding to provide the Program of Assistance for Survivors of Torture and Trauma, which supports people from CALD backgrounds who have experienced trauma, including grief related to displacement and loss .
A Step-by-Step Guide: What to Do
If you are an Oromo family member in Victoria, here are the steps to take :
- Connect with your community – Reach out to the Australian Oromo Community Association in Victoria (AOCAV). They can provide cultural and practical support.
- Contact a funeral director – Choose a funeral director that respects your culture, such as Le Pine Funerals, which has experience with diverse communities. Discuss your needs: burial, specific rituals, and the need for an interpreter.
- Inform Centrelink and seek financial assistance – Notify Services Australia by calling 132 300 and ask about the Bereavement Payment and other benefits.
- Seek emotional support – Call a grief support line. Services like Lifeline (13 11 14) and the Australian Centre for Grief and Bereavement (1800 642 066) are available and confidential.
Key Contacts
| Service | Contact | Description |
|---|---|---|
| Australian Oromo Community Association in Victoria | P.O. Box 2123, Footscray, VIC 3011 | Cultural and community support network |
| Centrelink Bereavement Line | 132 300 | Financial assistance and payments after a death |
| Lifeline | 13 11 14 | 24-hour crisis support |
| Australian Centre for Grief and Bereavement | 1800 642 066 | Grief counselling and information |
| Grief Australia | Free bereavement counselling and support groups | |
| Red Nose Australia | 24/7 Bereavement Support Line | Specialist support for loss of a baby or child |
| Wombat’s Wish | Free grief programs for children who have lost a parent | |
| Real Path Health and Wellbeing | Werribee | Trauma-informed grief counselling |
| Le Pine Funerals | (03) 8587 5700 | Funeral services for diverse communities |
Sources: Advocacy for Oromia, Australian Oromo Community Association in Victoria, Grief Australia, Lifeline, Red Nose Australia, Australian Centre for Grief and Bereavement.
Disclaimer: This article provides a general guide only. Readers should seek professional advice for their own particular situations.
#Oromo #GriefSupport #Victoria #Bereavement #CommunitySupport #FuneralServices
Honouring Our Elders: A Guide to Aged Care Support for Oromo Seniors in Victoria
By Daandii Oromia
MELBOURNE, VICTORIA – For the Oromo community in Victoria, elders are more than just family members; they are the keepers of history, the carriers of language and tradition, and the living roots of a culture that stretches across continents. They endured hardship, made the courageous journey to Australia, and built new lives for their children and grandchildren.
Now, as they enter their golden years, these pioneers deserve care, respect, and dignity.
But for many Oromo families, navigating the aged care system can feel overwhelming. Language barriers, cultural differences, and unfamiliar government processes often make it difficult to find the right support . However, a growing network of community and government organisations is dedicated to ensuring that Oromo elders receive the care they need—in a way that honours who they are .
The Growing Need: Supporting an Ageing Community
The Oromo community in Victoria has been establishing itself since the 1980s, when the first Oromo pioneers arrived as refugees . Today, approximately 5,000 Oromo people call Victoria home, and many are now reaching an age where they need support .
In recent years, community organisations have become increasingly active in supporting Oromo seniors. The Federation of Oromo Civic Organizations in Australia and the Oromo Seniors Welfare and Benevolent Association in Victoria regularly hold events to bring elders together, combat isolation, and share important information about available services .
These gatherings are more than social occasions—they are vital lifelines. As one community reflection noted, “For many in the diaspora, especially seniors, such gatherings provide a sense of connection and reduce feelings of loneliness or alienation” .
Where to Find Help: Key Organisations for Oromo Seniors
Oromo Community Organisations
The Australian Oromo Community Association in Victoria Inc. (AOCAV) is a vital first point of contact for Oromo families. Founded in 1984, the association serves as a “cornerstone of support” for the Oromo community, helping members navigate life in Australia while preserving cultural heritage . They offer vital resources for new arrivals, assistance with settlement, education, and employment, and are dedicated to uniting and empowering Oromo people residing in Australia . They can connect families with aged care services and other resources .
Advocacy for Oromia Association in Victoria is another key resource. Based at offices in Dandenong and Melbourne, this nonprofit organisation works to empower the Oromo community through advocacy, education, and information services . They can help seniors and their families understand available support and navigate the system .
Multicultural Aged Care Specialists
Australian Multicultural Community Services (AMCS) is one of Victoria’s leading providers of culturally appropriate aged care. With over 40 years of experience, AMCS specialises in supporting seniors from culturally and linguistically diverse backgrounds . They employ over 200 bilingual staff who speak more than 50 languages and provide home care and support packages, social and group activities, referrals and information services, and free consultations on home care support. AMCS operates across metropolitan Melbourne and Geelong .
Benetas, a not-for-profit aged care provider, has also been recognised as a specialist provider for CALD communities. They offer home care services across Victoria and have staff who speak Arabic, Vietnamese, Mandarin, Turkish, and many other languages . Their care planning includes asking every client about their cultural and linguistic needs to ensure services are tailored appropriately .
Access and Support: Navigating the System
The Access and Support program, coordinated by the Ethnic Communities Council of Victoria (ECCV), is a free service designed to help older people from diverse backgrounds navigate the aged care system. With 80 workers across Victoria, the program helps identify individuals in need, explains available services, supports clients through the My Aged Care assessment process, and connects them to providers . This service is particularly valuable because it is impartial and builds trust over time—essential when working with communities who may be wary of government services .
Centre for Cultural Diversity in Ageing
This Victorian organisation, funded by the Australian Government, helps aged care providers deliver culturally appropriate care. They provide policy advice, training, and resources for providers—meaning that more mainstream services are becoming better equipped to serve Oromo elders .
Practical Steps for Oromo Families
If you or a family member are an Oromo elder in Victoria needing support, here is a path forward :
- Start with your community: Reach out to the Australian Oromo Community Association in Victoria Inc. or Advocacy for Oromia Association. They understand your culture and language and can guide you.
- Contact a multicultural aged care specialist: Organisations like AMCS or Benetas offer culturally appropriate home care. Call them for a free consultation.
- Access the Access and Support program: If you are unsure where to start, call ECCV or ask your doctor or community worker to connect you with an Access and Support worker.
- Call My Aged Care: The government’s central aged care information line can help you understand your options. Ask for an interpreter if needed.
- Consider social groups: Many organisations run social and activity groups for seniors from diverse backgrounds. These are a wonderful way to stay connected, combat loneliness, and maintain cultural traditions.
- Know your rights: Everyone receiving government-funded aged care is entitled to be treated with dignity and respect, and to have their identity, culture, and diversity valued. The new Aged Care Act, effective from November 2025, explicitly states that aged care service providers must respect an individual’s preferences, needs, and rights, including their cultural identity . If you are a carer for an older family member, you may also be eligible for support through the Victorian Government’s Support for Carers Program, which provides counselling, respite, and other practical supports, with specific programs for carers from CALD backgrounds .
The Importance of Culturally Safe Care
For many Oromo elders, the transition to aged care is not just about medical needs—it is about maintaining identity. Research shows that older people from diverse communities often enter aged care with higher needs for daily function, behavioural support, and complex care . When dementia sets in, the ability to communicate in one’s own language becomes even more critical; for those with dementia, “if they cannot communicate in their language, they suffer even more” .
There is also a real stigma around aged care in some CALD communities, with institutional care being an unfamiliar concept to many migrants . This is why community-led support and culturally safe services are so important. When residents encounter familiar cultural references, whether through language, music, or shared traditions, it can spark powerful moments of recognition and connection . A familiar dish might evoke family gatherings from decades earlier, helping residents feel understood and grounded in environments that are often new and unfamiliar .
Key Contacts for Oromo Elders in Victoria
| Service | Contact | Description |
|---|---|---|
| Australian Oromo Community Association in Victoria (AOCAV) | 25 Mt Alexander Rd, Flemington VIC 3031 | Support, settlement, cultural preservation |
| Advocacy for Oromia | 39 Clow St, Dandenong VIC 3175; 247-251 Flinders Lane, Melbourne VIC 3000; 0432 057 473 | Advocacy, information, community support |
| Australian Multicultural Community Services (AMCS) | (03) 9689 9170; http://www.amcservices.org.au | Culturally appropriate home care |
| My Aged Care | 1800 200 422; http://www.myagedcare.gov.au | Government aged care information and access |
| Carers Victoria | Carer support, counselling, respite | |
| Ethnic Communities Council of Victoria (ECCV) | Access and Support program coordination | |
| Senior Rights Victoria | 1300 368 821 | Support for elder abuse issues |
Sources: Advocacy for Oromia, Australian Oromo Community Association in Victoria, Australian Multicultural Community Services, My Aged Care, Victorian Government, ABC News.
Disclaimer: This article provides a general guide only. Readers should seek professional advice for their own particular situations.
#Oromo #Seniors #AgedCare #Victoria #CommunitySupport #CulturalSafety
Finding Strength and Support: A Guide to Mental Health Services for Oromo Families in Victoria
By Daandii Oromia
MELBOURNE, VICTORIA – For many in the Oromo community, the journey to Australia has been marked by resilience, hope, and the promise of a safer future. Yet, this path often carries invisible burdens. The trauma of displacement, the challenges of resettlement, and the weight of cultural expectations can all take a profound toll on mental health and wellbeing .
In Victoria, help is available. While many from migrant and refugee backgrounds face barriers in accessing services, a growing number of organisations and programs are working to provide culturally safe, accessible, and understanding support for Oromo families .
The Hidden Struggles: Why Mental Health Matters
Mental health challenges—depression, anxiety, trauma, and isolation—are often worsened by the experience of migration . For many Oromo families, these struggles are compounded by language barriers, the pressure to appear strong, and the stigma that can surround mental health in many cultures .
Research confirms that people from Culturally and Linguistically Diverse (CALD) backgrounds face significant barriers in accessing mental health care. These include stigma, mental health illiteracy, distrust of mainstream services, and a lack of familiarity with the system . Speaking about mental health is not always common practice in many communities, which makes culturally appropriate support all the more vital .
Where to Start: Community Organisations That Understand You
The Oromo community in Victoria is fortunate to have dedicated organisations that understand your culture, language, and the unique challenges you face.
Advocacy for Oromia
Based in Melbourne, Advocacy for Oromia has been at the forefront of mental health support for the Oromo community for over a decade . Their Mental Health Program focuses on improving mental health literacy, building protective factors, and reducing stigma . They organise culturally adapted conversations during Oromo Coffee Drinking ceremonies (Caffee), a familiar cultural practice that helps make mental health discussions more approachable . They also provide information sessions, radio programs, and community education .
From 2017 to 2018 alone, their community education programs supported 600 Oromos to address depression, anxiety, low self-confidence, and isolation, including perinatal mental health issues .
- Contact: 247-251 Flinders Lane, Melbourne VIC 3000 | http://www.advocacy4oromia.org .
The Oromo Association in Victoria Australia (OAVA)
Established in 2002, OAVA is a non-political, community-focused organisation dedicated to supporting Oromo refugees and migrants . They offer a range of vital services, including:
- Settlement assistance for new arrivals
- Access to healthcare and mental health support
- Counselling to address the trauma of displacement
- Job training and employment support, which helps build independence and reduces stress
The Australian Oromo Community Association in Victoria Inc.
This community hub in Melbourne provides a wide range of services, including counselling, family support, and community outreach programmes . They collaborate with local organisations to deliver workshops on mental health, nutrition, and financial literacy .
The Power of Community Connection
One of the most effective forms of mental health support is simply coming together . In February 2025, the Federation of Oromo Civic Organizations in Australia and the Oromo Seniors Welfare and Benevolent Association held a dinner event in Melbourne that brought together seniors, youth, and families .
The benefits of such gatherings are profound:
- Reducing isolation, especially for seniors who may feel lonely in the diaspora
- Cultural affirmation that boosts self-esteem and mental wellbeing
- Open dialogue about community challenges and resources
- Intergenerational connection that allows elders to share cultural knowledge
Broader Support: Services for CALD Communities
Beyond community-specific organisations, Victoria has a growing network of services for culturally diverse communities.
Mental Health and Wellbeing Hubs
Funded by the Victorian Government, these hubs act as a ‘front door’ to the mental health system, providing free, short-term psychosocial support without a waitlist . They are delivered in locations including Abbotsford, Coburg North, Footscray, and Werribee . Staff work with interpreters to support service users who do not speak English as their first language .
Contact: 1300 286 463 to access a Hub .
Mental Health and Wellbeing Locals
Also funded by the Victorian Government, these Locals make it easier for people aged 26 and over to get free, voluntary mental health care closer to home . You do not need a referral or a Medicare card. The Dandenong team collectively speaks more than 40 languages, and bicultural workers have been a great success in overcoming mental health stigma in their communities . Top nationalities among service users include Afghanistan, India, Sri Lanka, Pakistan, and Sudan .
Contact: 1800 332 501 to find your nearest Local .
Afri-Aus Care
Based in Springvale South, Afri-Aus Care was founded in 2015 to provide culturally appropriate support to African Australian and CALD communities . They offer psychosocial assessment, casework, counselling, and mental health support . In 2024, they received a $235,000 grant from the Victorian Government to run a specialist mental health program focusing on removing stigma and cultural taboos .
The Diverse Communities Mental Health and Wellbeing Grants Program
The Victorian Government has invested $4.2 million in supporting diverse communities’ mental health . This program recognises that Victorians from diverse backgrounds often face greater mental health challenges and difficulty accessing inclusive, culturally safe services .
Organisations benefiting from this funding include the Ethnic Communities Council of Victoria, Muslim Mental Health Professionals, and the Victorian Refugee Health Network .
Practical Steps for Oromo Families
If you or a family member is struggling, here is a path forward:
- Start with your community organisation: Reach out to Advocacy for Oromia, OAVA, or the Australian Oromo Community Association .
- Attend community events: Gatherings like the Federation of Oromo Civic Organizations events are more than social—they are lifelines that can connect you with resources .
- Access mainstream mental health services: Contact a Mental Health and Wellbeing Hub or Local for free, no-waitlist support .
- Call a crisis line if needed: National helplines like Lifeline (13 11 14) and Beyond Blue (1300 22 4636) offer confidential support. Ask for an interpreter if needed .
Breaking the Silence
Mental health challenges are not a sign of weakness. They are a human experience—one that can be addressed with the right support .
As Selba Gondoza Luka, founder of Afri-Aus Care, discovered, helping others can also be a path to healing. “When I started the organisation, I had depression and anxiety. But then I started helping others and I saw the healing. It was a speedy recovery,” she said .
You are not alone. There is support, there is understanding, and there is a community ready to help.
Key Contacts
| Service | Contact | Description |
|---|---|---|
| Advocacy for Oromia | http://www.advocacy4oromia.org | Community education, mental health support for Oromo families |
| The Oromo Association in Victoria (OAVA) | Established 2002 | Counselling, settlement support, mental health services |
| Afri-Aus Care | Springvale South | Culturally appropriate mental health support |
| Mental Health and Wellbeing Hubs | 1300 286 463 | Free, no-waitlist mental health support |
| Mental Health and Wellbeing Locals | 1800 332 501 | Free, no referral needed; Dandenong speaks 40+ languages |
| Lifeline (crisis support) | 13 11 14 | 24-hour crisis support, ask for an interpreter |
| Beyond Blue | 1300 22 4636 | Mental health support and resources |
Sources: Advocacy for Oromia, The Oromo Association in Victoria, Mind Australia, National Institutes of Health.
Disclaimer: This article provides a general guide only. Readers should seek professional advice for their own particular situations.
Finding Safety and Strength: A Guide to Family Violence Support for Oromo Families in Victoria
By Dhabessa Wakjira
MELBOURNE, VICTORIA – Family violence is never acceptable. For Oromo families in Victoria, the experience of family violence can be compounded by cultural expectations, visa insecurity, language barriers, and isolation from support networks. But help is available, and it is culturally safe.
Victoria has invested more than $4 billion to prevent and respond to family violence, and a significant part of this investment focuses on making services accessible to multicultural communities. This guide provides a starting point for Oromo families seeking safety, support, and healing.
What Is Family Violence?
Family violence is more than physical abuse. It includes:
- Emotional abuse: constant criticism, humiliation, or control
- Financial abuse: controlling access to money, preventing you from working
- Social isolation: stopping you from seeing family or friends
- Coercive control: threats, intimidation, and manipulation
- Sexual violence: any unwanted sexual activity
- Threats to children: using children to control you
For Oromo families, violence can also be linked to cultural expectations, dowry-related disputes, forced marriage, or visa insecurity.
First Steps to Safety
If you are in immediate danger, call 000 immediately. Victoria Police are trained to respond to family violence and can help you leave a dangerous situation safely.
For confidential advice and support 24 hours a day, 7 days a week:
| Service | Contact | Description |
|---|---|---|
| 1800 RESPECT | 1800 737 732 | National helpline for sexual assault and family violence |
| Safe Steps | 1800 015 188 | Victoria’s 24/7 family violence crisis support line |
| Men’s Referral Service | 1300 766 491 | Support for men who want to stop using violence |
The Orange Door: Your Single Entry Point
In Victoria, The Orange Door is the main entry point for family violence support. It brings together multiple services in one place—specialist family violence services, child wellbeing services, and men’s services—to provide coordinated help.
What The Orange Door offers:
- A single point of contact for family violence support
- Risk assessment and safety planning
- Connection to counselling, financial help, and housing support
- Culturally safe services with interpreters available
- Help for everyone—regardless of gender, ethnicity, or background
Contact The Orange Door:
- Phone: 1300 271 045 (9am–5pm, Monday–Friday)
- Online: http://www.orangedoor.vic.gov.au
- In-person: Visit a hub near you
Clients from diverse communities are offered a safe service where their cultural and religious preferences are respected, including the option to work with a female worker if required.
Culturally Specific Support for Oromo and Multicultural Communities
Advocacy for Oromia (A4O)
Based in Melbourne, Advocacy for Oromia has been supporting the Oromo community since 2010. Their work includes:
- Community education about respectful relationships and gender equality
- Information sessions on family violence prevention
- Collaboration with Victoria Police and organisations like Wayss to provide community-based support
In 2019, Advocacy for Oromia organised the first Oromo Interfaith Forum in Melbourne, bringing together Christian, Muslim, and Waaqeffannaa religious leaders to speak about respectful relationships between husbands and wives.
Contact Advocacy for Oromia:
- Phone: 0432 057 473
- Email: info@advocacy4oromia.org
- Address: 39 Clow St, Dandenong VIC 3175; 247-251 Flinders Lane, Melbourne VIC 3000
InTouch Multicultural Centre Against Family Violence
InTouch is a specialist organisation dedicated to supporting migrant and refugee women experiencing family violence. They provide:
- Culturally appropriate counselling and case management
- Flexible support packages for CALD women across Victoria
- Help navigating visa and legal issues linked to family violence
- Advocacy for women facing dowry-related abuse, forced marriage, or visa insecurity
Contact InTouch: 03 9413 6500
Wellsprings for Women
Based in Dandenong, Wellsprings for Women is a grassroots organisation supporting women from migrant, refugee, and asylum seeker backgrounds through trauma-informed programs. Their services include family violence casework, emergency accommodation, food and clothing, transport assistance, and home safety measures for women escaping violence.
Practical and Financial Support
Flexible Support Packages
Victim survivors from CALD communities can access Flexible Support Packages through organisations like InTouch. These packages provide practical help to:
- Establish safety and long-term stability
- Cover counselling, wellbeing costs, education, and employment-related costs
- Address housing, transport, and other material needs
Family Violence Financial Counselling
Free and confidential financial counselling is available to help people experiencing family violence manage debt, access support payments, navigate housing issues, and plan for financial independence.
Legal Assistance
The Strengthening Legal Pathways for CALD Women project provides free community legal education on family violence and other legal issues, covering family law, family violence, police powers, tenancy, and more.
Community organisations can request free online or in-person information sessions by contacting pclc@pclc.org.au.
Support for Men
Family violence affects everyone, and support is available for men who are experiencing violence and for men who want to stop using violence.
For men experiencing family violence:
- Victims of Crime Helpline: 1800 819 817 (8am–11pm, 7 days a week)
For men who want to change their behaviour:
- Men’s Referral Service: 1300 766 491 (8am–9pm Monday–Friday, 9am–6pm weekends)
The Victorian Government is also delivering culturally-tailored men’s programs that take a holistic approach, with a focus on healing alongside accountability.
Education and Community Programs
Victoria has invested in community education to prevent family violence and empower multicultural communities. The award-winning Respectful Relationships course—delivered in partnership with Melbourne Polytechnic and Whittlesea Community Connections—has shown strong results:
- 93% of students reported greater confidence in understanding family violence
- 85% recognised that women and children are most affected by family violence
- 57% said they now knew where to access support services
Resources in Your Language
The MARAM family violence framework fact sheets have been translated into six commonly used languages, including Oromo, to support people from diverse communities. These resources explain family violence support in everyday language.
Quick Reference: Emergency and Support Contacts
| Service | Contact |
|---|---|
| Emergency (Police, Ambulance, Fire) | 000 |
| 1800 RESPECT | 1800 737 732 (24/7) |
| Safe Steps (Victoria) | 1800 015 188 (24/7) |
| The Orange Door | 1300 271 045 (9am–5pm weekdays) |
| Men’s Referral Service | 1300 766 491 |
| InTouch Multicultural Centre | 03 9413 6500 |
| Advocacy for Oromia | 0432 057 473 |
| Victims of Crime Helpline | 1800 819 817 |
| Child Protection Emergency | 13 12 78 |
Sources: Advocacy for Oromia, InTouch Multicultural Centre, Victorian Government, Wellsprings for Women.
If you are not sure where to start, call The Orange Door or contact Advocacy for Oromia. They can help you navigate the system, in your language, and with respect for who you are.
#Oromo #FamilyViolence #Victoria #SupportServices #SafetyFirst #CommunitySupport
Building a New Life: A Guide to Support for Oromo Asylum Seekers in Victoria
By Dhabessa Wakjira
MELBOURNE, VICTORIA – The decision to leave one’s homeland is never easy. For many Oromo people, it has meant fleeing persecution, violence, and the impossible choice between staying and surviving . Arriving in Australia as an asylum seeker brings a new set of challenges—unfamiliar systems, language barriers, and the uncertainty of your legal status .
But you are not alone.
In Victoria, a range of services are specifically designed to support asylum seekers. From community organisations that speak your language to government programs that offer training and legal assistance, help is available at every step of your journey .
The First Step: Connecting with Your Community
For Oromo asylum seekers, the most important first step is often connecting with community organisations that understand your culture, language, and lived experience .
The Oromo Community in Melbourne Inc. (OCM)
Established specifically to support the Oromo diaspora in Victoria, OCM provides refugee settlement support—assisting new Oromo refugees with housing, healthcare, and employment . They work in partnership with organisations like the Migrant Resource Centre and the Department of Immigration to address the unique challenges Oromo refugees face .
For many, OCM is the first point of contact. It offers a safe space to celebrate Oromo culture, history, and language without fear of persecution .
Advocacy for Oromia Association (A4O)
Since 2014, A4O has been dedicated to supporting and empowering disadvantaged Oromo individuals and families in Victoria . Their mission is to ensure that the voices of the Oromo community are heard by relevant authorities .
What A4O offers :
- Free, independent advocacy to help you resolve issues related to housing, healthcare, employment, and legal matters
- Settlement assistance including orientation programs and access to essential services
- Culturally sensitive support designed to help refugees integrate into Australian society
- Information about your civil and human rights
The Australian Oromo Community Association in Victoria (AOCAV)
Established in 1984, AOCAV is another key non-profit organisation dedicated to supporting, uniting, and empowering Oromo people residing in Australia . It provides vital resources and support for new arrivals, assisting them with settlement, education, and employment to ensure a smooth transition into Australian society . AOCAV also advocates for the rights and interests of the Oromo community at local, state, and national levels, serving as a bridge between the Oromo community and the wider Australian community .
Legal Assistance: Navigating the Visa Process
For asylum seekers, legal status is often the most pressing concern. Victoria offers a comprehensive network of legal support.
Victoria Legal Aid (VLA)
VLA provides free legal assistance for asylum seekers, including representation before the Administrative Review Tribunal (ART) for protection visa appeals . The new ART—established in October 2024—has replaced the former Immigration Assessment Authority and now gives all asylum seekers the right to a full merits review of their cases .
Key support from VLA :
- Legal representation for protection visa appeals
- Assistance with judicial review in Federal courts
- Trauma-informed legal services that understand the experiences of asylum seekers
Data shows that asylum seekers who are legally represented are seven times more likely to receive a positive outcome at the Tribunal . In 90 per cent of VLA’s protection visa matters, they saw positive outcomes including decisions being overturned .
Contact VLA :
- Legal Help phoneline: 1300 792 387 (Monday to Friday, 8 am–6 pm)
- Protection visa assistance email: PVAssistance@vla.vic.gov.au
- You can ask for an interpreter
Refugee Legal
Refugee Legal is a community legal centre that has specialised in refugee and immigration law for over 28 years . They provide free legal advice and representation to asylum seekers, refugees, and disadvantaged migrants in the community and in immigration detention . They assisted more than 12,500 people last year alone .
Status Resolution Support Services (SRSS)
The SRSS program provides support to people living in Australia while their protection visa application is being processed . This includes financial assistance and support services through providers like Settlement Services International (SSI) and Life Without Barriers .
Healthcare: Accessing Medical Support
Accessing healthcare as an asylum seeker can be complex, but Victoria has specialised services to meet your needs.
Refugee Health Services
- The Royal Melbourne Hospital – Refugee Health: Provides specialist care for adult immigrants and refugees, including those who are not eligible for Medicare
- Monash Health – Refugee Health and Wellbeing: Provides comprehensive primary care together with tertiary services including infectious diseases, paediatrics, and psychiatry
- The Royal Children’s Hospital – Immigrant Health Service: Offers free specialist care for children and young people who arrived as refugees, including those without Medicare
The Asylum Seeker Resource Centre (ASRC) – Health Service
The ASRC offers casework, counselling, and general access to wider support programs . It is one of the most comprehensive support organisations for asylum seekers in Victoria .
Specialised Mental Health Support
Foundation House provides specialised counselling for torture and trauma, including individual and family support, group programs, and complementary therapies . They operate across six metro sites and in partnership with agencies in regional Victoria . The Victorian Government continues to support Foundation House to deliver these trauma-informed programs .
Education and Training: Building Skills for the Future
Victoria offers subsidised training programs for asylum seekers to help them build new careers and contribute to their new communities .
Asylum Seeker VET Program
The Victorian Government has invested $3 million to extend the Asylum Seeker VET program, which provides access to vocational training for refugees and asylum seekers .
Popular courses include :
- Childcare
- Community and disability services
- Nursing and allied health
Since 2024, more than 950 asylum seekers have been supported to study at TAFE through this program . The program is delivered in partnership with the Asylum Seeker Resource Centre (ASRC), which provides wraparound support and follow-up services .
Reconnect Program
The Reconnect program supports people who are not engaged in education, employment, or training—including asylum seekers . With $48 million in funding extended for another four years, the program provides one-on-one wraparound support including :
- Counselling and mentoring
- Housing support
- Education opportunities
- Health and wellbeing services
- Foundation and employability skills
Since 2016, the program has helped thousands of people move into further study, training, or employment .
AMES Australia
AMES Australia provides settlement services to refugees, including meeting new arrivals at the airport, providing safe and secure accommodation, and offering English and vocational courses . In the 2024-25 financial year, AMES helped more than 1,500 migrants and refugees find sustainable employment and supported more than 200 refugees to start their own businesses .
Government Support and Commitment
Victoria welcomes between 4,000 and 6,000 refugees every year . The Victorian Government has committed over $20 million in programs through the 2025–26 budget to support refugee communities . This includes $3.6 million over two years to support regional organisations to deliver settlement supports and $7.6 million to protect vulnerable workers, along with over $56 million through the education portfolio for English as an additional language classes .
Practical Steps for Oromo Asylum Seekers in Victoria
- Reach out to your community – Contact OCM, A4O, or AOCAV. They understand your culture and can guide you through your first steps.
- Seek legal advice – Contact Victoria Legal Aid or Refugee Legal if your protection visa has been refused or you need legal representation.
- Access healthcare – Visit one of Victoria’s specialised refugee health services, including The Royal Melbourne Hospital – Refugee Health or the ASRC Health Service.
- Explore education and training – Ask about the Asylum Seeker VET program or AMES Australia courses to build skills and start a career in Victoria.
- Consider mental health support – Foundation House provides specialised counselling for torture and trauma, free of charge.
Key Contacts
| Service | Contact |
|---|---|
| Advocacy for Oromia (A4O) | info@advocacy4oromia.org |
| Victoria Legal Aid | 1300 792 387 |
| Refugee Legal | http://www.refugeelegal.org.au |
| Asylum Seeker Resource Centre (ASRC) | http://www.asrc.org.au |
| Foundation House (Mental Health) | Specialised torture and trauma counselling |
| The Royal Melbourne Hospital – Refugee Health | Specialist care for adult asylum seekers |
Sources: Advocacy for Oromia, Victoria Legal Aid, Refugee Legal, Asylum Seeker Resource Centre, Foundation House, AMES Australia, Parliament of Victoria.
Disclaimer: This article provides a general guide only. Readers should not act on the basis of any material without getting legal advice about their own particular situations .
#Oromo #AsylumSeekers #Victoria #RefugeeSupport #SettlementServices #CommunitySupport
Navigating the Path to Healing: A Guide to Drug and Alcohol Support for Oromos in Victoria
By Dhabessa Wakjira
MELBOURNE, VICTORIA – For members of the Oromo community in Victoria, the journey of settlement in a new country is often marked by resilience, hope, and hard work. However, it can also come with unique challenges that may, for some, lead to problematic alcohol and other drug (AOD) use. The transition to a new culture, coupled with experiences of trauma, grief, and social isolation, can create significant vulnerability .
The good news is that help is available. While accessing support can be daunting due to language barriers, cultural stigma, and a system that hasn’t always felt welcoming, a growing network of services is working to become more accessible and culturally safe for Victoria’s diverse communities. This guide provides a starting point for Oromo families seeking help.
Why Accessing Help Can Be Harder
Acknowledging the barriers is the first step to overcoming them. Members of migrant and refugee communities, including Oromos, are significantly underrepresented in AOD services. In Victoria, 95% of those seeking help speak English as their first language, indicating that the system often does not feel accessible to those who don’t .
Common obstacles include :
- Stigma and Shame: In many communities, substance use is seen as a sign of weakness that damages family reputation, making it difficult to seek help openly.
- Language Barriers: There are limited AOD resources available in languages other than English.
- Cultural Disconnection: Services can feel too “Angiocentric” and may not cater to cultural practices and norms.
- Fear and Distrust: Concerns about confidentiality and fear of authorities can prevent people from coming forward.
Where to Start: Immediate and Confidential Support
If you or someone you care about needs help right now, these services are confidential, available 24/7, and free. They are the best first point of contact .
- DirectLine is a 24-hour telephone service providing immediate, confidential counselling, information, and referral to treatment services. You can call 1800 888 236 at any time and ask for an interpreter .
- Counselling Online offers free, confidential, professional online counselling about alcohol or drug-related issues, available 24/7 .
Finding Culturally Appropriate Support
The Victorian Government requires all funded AOD services to provide a culturally safe environment . While culturally tailored services are still limited, some dedicated programs exist.
- Muslim Youth, Adult & Families (MYAF) Program
This federally-funded program is specifically designed to support individuals and families from the Islamic community . It is based in Glenroy and offers:- AOD counselling (face-to-face, telephone, and outreach)
- Assessment and referral to withdrawal and rehabilitation programs
- Family support workers providing practical help and education
- Youth AOD outreach for young people aged 15–24
- Male and female specific support groups
- Step Thru Care (STC)
This is a new integrated Mental Health and AOD support service being delivered across western Victoria. It is designed to be accessible to priority groups, including people from Culturally and Linguistically Diverse (CALD) backgrounds . The program does not require a Mental Health Care Treatment Plan to access support .
Practical Steps Forward
If you know someone struggling with alcohol or drugs, here is a path forward :
- Start with DirectLine: Call 1800 888 236. It is confidential, available 24/7, and they can connect you with services in your area. You can ask for an interpreter.
- Reach out to Community Organisations: Contact the Australian Oromo Community Association in Victoria Inc. or the Advocacy for Oromia Association. They may be able to connect you with culturally appropriate support or advocate on your behalf .
- Consider Step Thru Care if you are in western Victoria. This service does not require a referral .
- If you are from the Islamic community, contact MYAF for tailored counselling in a culturally safe environment .
- Seek mental health support if needed. Alcohol and drug issues are often linked to trauma. Organisations like Foundation House provide specialised counselling for torture and trauma .
A Statewide Commitment to Change
On a broader scale, the Victorian Government has committed to a $95 million Statewide Action Plan and launched the Victorian Alcohol and Other Drugs Strategy 2025-35 . This ten-year plan aims to build a more compassionate, coordinated, and connected system with a health-led approach . Key priorities include making services easier to access, strengthening harm reduction, and ensuring culturally safe care .
This commitment is leading to practical changes, such as funding for community health services to expand pharmacotherapy (medication-assisted treatment) for opioid dependence, making it available to an additional 1,500 Victorians . It also focuses on improving coordination across mental health, housing, and justice services to provide holistic support .
Remember: You Are Not Alone
The Victorian AOD system supports around 40,000 people each year . Substance use is a health issue, and seeking help is a sign of strength, not weakness . With the support available, healing is possible.
The Silence That Betrays: Why Speaking Out Is the First Step Toward Justice
Remaining silent in the face of oppression does not keep the peace—it perpetuates the harm.
There is a moment that comes to every society, every community, every workplace, every family. It is the moment when something unjust happens, and we are faced with a choice: speak or stay silent.
All too often, we choose silence. We tell ourselves it is not our place. We fear the consequences. We hope someone else will step forward. We convince ourselves that if we just keep our heads down, the storm will pass.
But the storm never passes. It only grows.
“Remaining silent like sheep is the source of our problems.”
These words cut to the heart of a painful truth. Silence—passive, obedient, fearful silence—is not neutrality. It is complicity. And it has allowed countless injustices to flourish unchecked.
The High Cost of Silence
History is written in the blood of those who were silenced and those who chose silence.
When neighbours turned a blind eye to persecution, whole communities were destroyed. When colleagues remained quiet about harassment, victims suffered in isolation. When citizens refused to speak against corruption, entire nations were plundered.
Silence does not protect the vulnerable—it abandons them.
Consider the workplace where bullying is dismissed as “personality clashes.” The employee who is unfairly passed over for promotion but fears speaking up. The team that knows about unethical practices but says nothing because “it’s not my problem.”
Each silence is a brick in the wall of injustice. And brick by brick, we build a prison for ourselves and for others.
When Falsehoods Become Weapons
“Failing to respond to those who are oppressing people with falsehoods is turning many just people into victims.”
Oppression rarely announces itself with a bang. It creeps in quietly, disguised as convenience, tradition, or even common sense. And it is almost always accompanied by lies.
The lie that “they are not like us.”
The lie that “they deserved it.”
The lie that “there is nothing we can do.”
The lie that “this is just how things are.”
Falsehoods are the fuel of oppression. They dehumanise the victim and numb the conscience of the bystander. When we fail to challenge these falsehoods, we allow them to take root and grow. We allow the oppressor to rewrite reality—and in doing so, we become accomplices to the very injustice we claim to abhor.
Every time we remain silent when a lie is told, we give it power. Every time we look away when an innocent person is attacked, we become part of the attack.
The Courage to Speak
Speaking out is never easy. It requires courage, conviction, and a willingness to pay a price.
Those who speak truth to power are often punished. They are called troublemakers, agitators, or traitors. They lose friends, jobs, and sometimes their freedom. The path of the whistleblower, the activist, the truth-teller is never smooth.
But the alternative is worse.
For every person who speaks out, there are countless others who draw strength from their example. One voice can break the spell of silence. One act of courage can inspire a movement. One truth, spoken clearly and without apology, can shatter a system of lies.
What Speaking Out Looks Like
Speaking out does not always mean standing on a podium or leading a protest. It can take many forms:
- In the workplace: Refusing to participate in unethical practices and reporting misconduct through proper channels.
- In the community: Challenging discriminatory remarks and standing up for those who are marginalised.
- In the family: Breaking cycles of abuse or silence and creating space for honest conversations.
- In daily life: Refusing to laugh at hurtful jokes, questioning assumptions, and refusing to accept injustice as normal.
Small acts of courage, multiplied across thousands of people, can change the world.
A Biblical Warning and a Moral Call
The metaphor of sheep is a powerful one. Sheep are gentle, but they are also passive. They follow without questioning. They are led to slaughter without resistance.
But we are not sheep. We are human beings, endowed with reason, conscience, and the capacity for moral choice. We have a responsibility—to ourselves, to each other, and to future generations—to use our voices for good.
The prophet Isaiah spoke of a time when “the people shall be oppressed, every one by another, and every one by his neighbour.” The remedy, then as now, is not silence. It is the courage to speak truth, to defend the vulnerable, and to refuse to bow to injustice.
The Ripple Effect of Speaking Out
When one person speaks out, something remarkable happens. Others who were silent find their voice. Those who were isolated find solidarity. Those who were afraid find courage.
The civil rights movement was built on the voices of those who refused to stay silent. The fight for women’s suffrage, for LGBTQ+ rights, for environmental justice, for freedom from tyranny—all of it began with someone saying, “No more.”
Each of us has a sphere of influence—our family, our workplace, our community, our nation. Within that sphere, our voice matters. What we say—or don’t say—shapes the world around us.
Breaking the Silence
If you have been silent, it is not too late to speak. If you have looked away, it is not too late to turn back. If you have ignored injustice, it is not too late to act.
Start small. Speak up for a colleague who is being treated unfairly. Challenge a friend who makes a racist remark. Report misconduct at work. Support a cause that defends the vulnerable. Write a letter, make a call, sign a petition.
And when you feel the weight of fear pressing down on you, remember this: the cost of silence is always greater than the cost of speaking out.
A Call to Action
“Remaining silent like sheep is the source of our problems. Failing to respond to those who are oppressing people with falsehoods is turning many just people into victims.”
These are not just words—they are a warning and a call. A warning that passivity has consequences. A call to rise, to speak, and to act.
The world does not change by accident. It changes because ordinary people refuse to accept the unacceptable. It changes because someone, somewhere, decides that silence is no longer an option.
Will you be that someone?
In the end, the question is not whether you speak. The question is whether you can live with yourself if you don’t.
Take a stand. Break the silence. Be the voice that others need to hear.
When Home Doesn’t Feel Like Home: The Quiet Struggle of Multicultural Seniors
For many older Australians from multicultural backgrounds, the decision to seek aged care isn’t about pride—it’s about feeling understood.
Elena* came to Australia from Greece in the 1960s. Now in her eighties, she lives alone in the Melbourne suburb where she raised her children. Her daughter Maria visits weekly, bringing groceries and checking that her mother has taken her medication. Lately, Maria has noticed changes—a forgotten appointment, a bruise from a fall that Elena dismisses as nothing.
When Maria suggested aged care support, Elena’s response was immediate: “I don’t need strangers coming into my home.”
It’s a familiar story. Many older Australians from multicultural backgrounds don’t access aged care support—not because it isn’t available, but because it doesn’t feel made for them. The system can seem foreign, the forms overwhelming, and the idea of a stranger providing personal care feels deeply uncomfortable when culture dictates that family should be the ones to help.
A Gradual Shift Families Struggle to Name
Families supporting older loved ones often describe the same experience: a gradual shift they weren’t sure how to name. A parent becoming more forgetful. A decline in mobility that makes stairs dangerous. A growing isolation as friends move away or pass on.
“For a long time, we just thought Mum was getting older,” says Maria. “It was only when the doctor pointed out the signs that we realised she needed more help than we could give her.”
But even then, the question remained: where to start?
The Support at Home Program: Meeting People Before Things Become Urgent
The Australian Government’s Support at Home program is designed to meet people at that moment—before things become urgent. Launched on 1 November 2025 as part of the new Aged Care Act 2024, the program replaces the former Home Care Package program with a simplified system that makes it easier for older Australians to get help to live safely and independently at home .
Support can include:
- Personal care such as showering, dressing, and grooming
- Domestic assistance including cleaning, laundry, and gardening
- Transport to shopping, banking, and medical appointments
- Allied health services like physiotherapy and podiatry
- Assistive technology and home modifications for safer living
- Social support to reduce isolation and maintain community connections
But for multicultural communities, accessing these services often means navigating more than just paperwork—it means finding someone who speaks their language and respects their culture.
The AMCS Difference: Care That Feels Like Home
This is where the Australian Multicultural Community Services (AMCS) steps in. For over 40 years, AMCS has been providing culturally appropriate care to seniors from diverse backgrounds across Melbourne and Geelong .
Founded in 1983 as the Australian Polish Community Services by visionary leaders who saw an urgent need for support services, the organisation has evolved significantly . It changed its name to Australian Multicultural Community Services in 2009, extending its reach to all multicultural communities .
Today, AMCS employs staff from more than 50 countries of origin who speak over 45 languages . This linguistic and cultural diversity is not incidental—it’s fundamental to how they deliver care.
“As a multicultural organisation, we understand that culture is more than just the language we speak,” says Maryanne Tadic, CEO of AMCS. “It’s in our rituals, our gestures, our celebrations, our food and shared experiences” .
Finding the Words: Breaking Down Language Barriers
For many families, the first barrier is language. Government resources like My Aged Care are available, but navigating the system can be daunting, especially when English isn’t your first language .
AMCS helps bridge this gap. Their staff guide families through the process from start to finish—identifying needs, understanding assessments, and making referrals . As one client shared:
“Amazing support for my mother and myself as a carer. With the help of the program, we were able to access the support we required, and we were not even aware that it was available. It really made a difference to us.”
More Than Just Services: Building Community
Beyond practical support, AMCS also addresses a less visible but equally important need: social connection.
Through group social support programs, community outings, and cultural celebrations, seniors have the opportunity to connect with others who share their background . For many, this is as valuable as the practical care they receive.
The organisation’s new Millenium House Community Centre, a $7 million renovation of a former Polish community centre in Melbourne’s west, will serve as a multicultural hub and events venue, continuing the legacy of community connection .
For those living with dementia, AMCS also provides free Multicultural Dementia Care and Support Centres in Melbourne and Geelong, offering culturally targeted activities, peer support, and wellbeing checks .
Starting the Conversation
If you’re working with families navigating these challenges, or if you know someone who could benefit, the first step is often the hardest. But it can be as simple as a phone call.
AMCS welcomes conversations with families and community members. Their team can help identify needs, explain the Support at Home program, and connect people with services that respect their language, culture, and personal preferences.
Call (03) 9689 9170 or visit http://www.amcservices.org.au
It’s never too early to start the conversation. Because for the Elena’s of our community, home should always feel like home.
*Name changed for privacy.
This story is published in partnership with the Australian Multicultural Community Services, a not-for-profit organisation dedicated to supporting older Australians from multicultural backgrounds to live independently at home.
Maaramee Harqaa: The Voice of Resistance, The Soul of Oromia
By Zelalem Tadesse Duressa
Senior Broadcast Journalist, Nairobi, BBC Afaan Oromoo
“Fo’ii loli… goonni haa baruudu…”
(“Fight, fight… let the cowards learn…”)
When Maaramee Harqaa sang these words, she wasn’t just performing—she was summoning a people to awakening. Her voice, sharp as a blade yet tender as a mother’s embrace, cut through the silence of oppression and gave language to a generation’s longing for freedom.
The Songstress Who Became a Symbol
To the Oromo people, Maaramee Harqaa Kaasaa is not merely a singer or a teacher. She is memory incarnate—a woman whose life became inextricably woven into the fabric of Oromo resistance. Those who knew her speak of her with a reverence reserved for ancestors: “Bilisummaan tola hin dhufu” (Freedom does not come for free)—one of her most famous refrains—remains etched in the collective consciousness of a people who have long known the weight of subjugation.
But who was Maaramee Harqaa, truly?
Roots in Wallagga
Born in the late 1950s in Qeejjoo, a village in Gobbuu Sayyoo district, eastern Wallagga, Maaramee entered the world as the daughter of Harqaa Kaasaa and Geexee Baloo. She was the only daughter among five brothers—a position that might have made her soft, but instead forged in her an unyielding spirit.
From childhood, those around her recognized something extraordinary. According to Baqqalaa Warquu, author of “The History of Oromo Women Fighters,” Maaramee was “a truth-teller who could not tolerate injustice, who could not be silent in the face of wrongdoing.” She was, in every sense, faaya Oromoo—the pride and ornament of her people.
Her education began at the first-grade level in Baakkoo, continued in Amboo, and culminated at Dabra Birhaan Teachers’ Training Institute (TTI). Upon completing her training, she returned to Amboo and the surrounding Awwaaro area, where she devoted herself to teaching.
The Teacher Who Became a Revolutionary
But Maaramee was never merely a teacher. Even as she stood before her students, she was organizing, mobilizing, and awakening. During the Derg regime, she became a member of the ABO (Adeemsa Bilisummaa Oromoo—the Oromo Liberation Front’s predecessor organization). Her classroom became a site of consciousness-raising; her lessons extended beyond textbooks into the realm of political awakening.
“She was particularly active in the struggle to teach the Oromo alphabet (qubee),” writes Baqqalaa. “She called countless young women into the field of education, transforming them from passive subjects into active agents of change.”
Alongside other iconic Oromo women fighters like Ilfinash Qannoo and Angaatuu Baalchaa, Maaramee immersed herself in the cultural and political resistance of her people. Through poetry, song, and unwavering activism, she became a pillar of the movement.
Exile and Resilience
When the Oromo Liberation Front withdrew from the transitional government in 1984, pressure mounted on Maaramee. The authorities intensified their surveillance, and she was forced to flee to Finfinne (Addis Ababa). Even there, however, she found no peace—the regime continued its pursuit.
Eventually, she left formal teaching and joined the Oromo Relief Association (ORA), a humanitarian organization that allowed her to continue serving her people while navigating the treacherous political landscape.
Love and Loss
It was during her years of struggle that Maaramee met Jifaara Qarneessaa—a man described as strong, historically conscious, and deeply moved by her passion and courage. Their union produced two children: Leellisee Jifaaraa and Gammachuu Jifaaraa.
But the revolution demanded its sacrifices. After her husband’s death, Maaramee was urged by a prominent woman from a fighting family to continue the struggle—to not retreat into private grief but to channel her sorrow into the collective cause. She listened.
When asked why her people suffered—“Maaf lafasaa dhaba? Maaf namasaa dhaba? Maaf gootasaa dhaba?” (Why do they have no land? Why do they have no dignity? Why do they have no strength?)—she found her answer in the faces of her children, her students, and her people. She rose, hardened, and fought with renewed vigor.
The Poet of Resistance
Maaramee’s literary legacy is profound. She became one of the first Oromo women to write extensively in the Oromo language (qubee), composing songs not only for herself but for other artists as well. Her songwriting bore the fingerprints of a scholar, a patriot, and a mother all at once.
Among her most famous lyrical moments is this haunting stanza:
Biyyoo biyya lafaa eenyut sirratti hafaa?
Du’a biyya lafaa eenyu irraa hafaa?
(Oh earth, who will remain upon you?
Who will remain after death upon this land?)
She sang these words for her deceased husband but they echoed far beyond personal grief. They became an anthem for a dispossessed nation.
Another powerful line from her recordings reveals her defiance in the face of mortality:
“Jabaatanii dhukkubaa fi du’arraa wal hin hanbifannu,
Dabareen kiyya na gahee hanga sibira gahuttii, nagaatti…”
(Let us not abandon one another to illness and death,
My beloved, stand by me until the end, in peace…)
Gundoo Booree: A Cultural Monument
Perhaps no contribution captures Maaramee’s genius better than her work on Gundoo Booree. This traditional Oromo song, deeply embedded in the culture of the Maccaa Oromo, particularly among the sons of Jaawwii, is performed during weddings and celebrations.
The song’s lyrics—playfully provocative, filled with mock rivalry and affection—became a vehicle for Maaramee to document and preserve Oromo cultural identity:
“Fuutuu… eenyu isheen dhuftee fuutu…”
(Come… who comes to take you?)
Young women, holding enamel cups, would sing this to challenge their male counterparts, their voices dripping with both pride and mockery. The playful confrontation masked deeper cultural commentary—about dignity, about possession, about who holds power in the dance of life.
When a young man fails to properly present the traditional cup, the women sing:
“Gundoo Booree… Dhiistee galta mooree?
Gundoo dhiigaa… Gurroo dhiiraa dhiistee galta mooree?”
(Gundoo Booree… Did you leave and come back?
Gundoo of blood… Did you leave the man’s son and return?)
Maaramee elevated this cultural treasure into written form, preserving it for posterity in her book, where it stood alongside histories, political commentaries, and explorations of Oromo ethics and customs.
Discography: The Voice in Four Albums
Maaramee Harqaa released four albums during her lifetime, each a testament to her range as an artist and her depth as a thinker.
Her first album, released in 1997 E.C. (2005 G.C.) under Zeddi Music Studio, contained ten tracks, including:
- Boonaa warraa
- Fandishee Alaa’ee
- Asham Baabee
- Ishoo loli yaa durbee
- Hin booyin golloo
- Qarree durbaa baali hin haadu
- Bilisummaan tola hin dhufu (Freedom does not come free)
- Harcumme yaa looyye
- Si hin waamne yaa seesaa
- Yaa Sharrittii koo
Her second album, released in 2000 E.C. (2008 G.C.) under Kiilolee Music Studio, also featured ten tracks:
- Finfinnee
- Kuufama kee yaa garaa
- Geerarsa
- Faaruu Oromiyaa
- Ongololi
- Falmadhu addooyyee
- Yoona malee yoomiree
These songs remain alive in the hearts of Oromos across the diaspora, in refugee camps, in cities, and in the rural highlands where her voice still echoes.
The Price of Freedom
Maaramee’s life was not one of comfort. She was arrested, tortured, and forced to witness the suffering of her people firsthand. Yet she never wavered.
In 1995, after years of tireless struggle, illness finally claimed her. Surrounded by her memories and the songs she had composed, she departed this world—but not before securing her place in the eternal choir of Oromo resistance.
A Legacy Honored
In 2022, the Oromia Writers’ Association posthumously awarded Maaramee Harqaa the prestigious Gaaddisaa literary award. Though she was no longer physically present, the honor acknowledged what her people had always known:
Maaramee Harqaa was more than a singer. She was more than a teacher. She was a revolutionary, a cultural ambassador, and a mother to a nation.
The Land Remembers
Today, when Oromos gather at weddings and sing Gundoo Booree, when they murmur the lyrics of Bilisummaan tola hin dhufu, when they remember the price their ancestors paid, they are also remembering Maaramee.
Her voice—sharp with defiance, tender with love, and eternal in its call for justice—remains a compass for a people still navigating the storm toward freedom.
“Biyyoo biyya lafaa eenyut sirratti hafaa?”
Maaramee, the land remembers. The people remember. And as long as Oromo lips sing and Oromo hearts hope, your name will never fade.
Zelalem Tadesse Duressa is a Senior Broadcast Journalist based in Nairobi, BBC Afaan Oromoo, covering the Horn of Africa region.
The Lioness Queen of Africa: Reclaiming the Legacy of Aayyo Guddittii
She was called the “Lioness Queen of Africa” by the world, a figure of such power that she reshaped the political landscape of the Horn of Africa. To the Oromo people, she is known as Aayyo Guddittii Gaadi’aa—Grandmother of Wisdom, the Great Queen. To the dominant Ethiopian historical narrative, she is Yodit Gudit—a destroyer of churches and a rebellious woman. But who was she, and why is her story so contested?
A Figure Shrouded in Mystery
The personage known by multiple names—Gudit, Yodit, Isato, Aayyo Guddittii, Akoo Manooyee—is one of the most fascinating and controversial figures in Ethiopian history. If she is the same as Māsobā Wārq, the daughter of the last Aksumite king Dil Na’ad, she ruled in the 10th century and is said to have been responsible for laying waste to the Kingdom of Aksum and its countryside .
According to Oromo oral tradition, Aayyo Guddittii was not a destroyer but a liberator. She was born into the Bareentu branch of the Oromo, in the area of Asaboot (Ashaboo) in Hararge . The name “Asaboot” itself comes from the Arabic Aṣ-ṣaḥābah (“The Companions”), referring to companions of the Prophet Muhammad, and the town still exists today in the West Hararghe Zone of the Oromia Region . Her people were from the Azabo (Asabo) clan, a Cushitic Oromo group, known for their resistance and warrior traditions.
The Habesha (Amhara and Tigrayan) chronicles tell a different story. They describe Gudit as a rebellious woman—even a prostitute—who raised an army, invaded Aksum, and burned its palace and churches . She is portrayed as a monstrous figure, a “female gud or monster” . Her deeds are still cursed in the northern Ethiopian countryside. To this day, when stories are told of her violent misdeeds, they are recounted among peasants in the northern Ethiopian countryside .
But is this portrayal history—or propaganda?
The Rise of the Queen
In the 9th century, she mobilized an army, destroyed the ancient Kingdom of Aksum, and took power. She ruled for 40 years over a vast territory that included northern Ethiopia, ruling over both Oromo and Habesha subjects . This was a time when Aksum, once one of the four great civilizations of the world alongside Rome, Persia, India, and China, was in decline .
The reasons for her rise are disputed. One legend says she was stripped of her title as princess and became a prostitute to survive. After a priest stole a sacred artifact on her behalf, she was blamed and exiled. She married Prince Zenobis and together they invaded Aksum, where she destroyed the palace and churches . Another legend claims she was the granddaughter of Aksumite Emperor Wuden Asferé and that her motherland was Hahaylé in Tigré .
But Oromo tradition offers a different interpretation: she was a unifier, a leader who rose to challenge an oppressive empire and liberated her people. As one Oromo source puts it, “Oromo calls her the father of imperialism. Habesha said Yodit Gudi Abba Ire Wareertu and still cursing her” .
The Zagwe Dynasty: An Oromo Legacy
After her death, power passed to a dynasty that Oromo tradition calls Hidda-Zagwe—the Zagwe Dynasty. This dynasty ruled for 333 years, with 11 kings, and is recognized for building the famous rock-hewn churches of Lalibela .
The name “Zagwe” itself is contested. In Oromo, it is connected to Haagahu—a name derived from an Oromo tribe from the Gojjam region. The Habesha narrative has transformed this into “Agaw” or “Z-Agaw,” obscuring the Oromo origins of these rulers . The dynasty’s capital was Roha, later renamed Eddeessaa, and eventually Lalibela—a name that in Oromo means “Laali balaa” or “look at danger/see the threat,” referring to the defensive architecture of the churches .
The most famous of the Zagwe kings was Laalibala (Lalibela), who commissioned the eleven magnificent rock-hewn churches. According to both tradition and archaeological evidence, these churches were carved in the 12th and 13th centuries, in the mountainous region of Lasta in northern Ethiopia . The Zagwe dynasty is credited with preserving and spreading Orthodox Christianity, particularly into the southern regions of Gojjam and Shewa .
The 11 churches, including the iconic Church of Saint George (Biete Giorgis), were carved from a single block of stone. According to the Acts of Lalibela, the king built them in the likeness of what he had seen in a vision, with the help of both men and angels . The site became a major pilgrimage destination—a “New Jerusalem” for Ethiopian Christians .
The Erasure of Oromo History
The Zagwe dynasty’s rule ended in 1270 when the so-called “Solomonic Dynasty” was restored, claiming descent from King Solomon and the Queen of Sheba. The new rulers launched a campaign of propaganda warfare against the Zagwe, labeling them as “alien and impious groups of adventurers” . The Kebrā Nāgäst (Glory of Kings) was used as a political gospel to delegitimize the Zagwe and justify Solomonic rule .
This anti-Zagwe propaganda deliberately obscured what is perhaps the richest and most artistic period of Ethiopian civilization since the conversion of Ezana . The Zagwe kings, who were of Agaw/Oromo heritage, had “preserved their linguistic identity and used Agaw outside the church,” making them linguistically different from the Amhara and Tigray elites—and thus easy to dismiss as “foreign” .
The obscurity of this period has been “further aggravated by both subjective and objective factors”—including “deliberate and concerted intrigue of the Solomonic elite and the clergy” .
Reclaiming the Legacy
Today, Oromo scholars and advocates are working to restore the true history of Aayyo Guddittii and the Zagwe dynasty. They argue that the deliberate distortion of this history has served to:
- Erase Oromo contributions to Ethiopian civilization, including the construction of the Lalibela churches and the spread of Christianity .
- Suppress Oromo identity by claiming that Oromo history begins only in the 16th century—a claim that is thoroughly debunked by linguistics and archaeology .
- Justify the dominance of Amhara and Tigrayan political elites over Oromo and other Cushitic peoples .
The Zagwe period, as one scholar notes, “laid the foundation for a multi-national unitary state.” They preserved “incalculable material and spiritual wealth from devastation” and initiated commercial and cultural links with other countries . Their “contribution to the survival and consolidation of Christianity is hardly acknowledged” .
The Story That Will Not Be Silenced
Aayyo Guddittii—whether called Gudit, Yodit, or the Lioness Queen of Africa—represents a powerful symbol of Oromo resistance. She challenges the dominant narrative that has portrayed Oromo people as latecomers to Ethiopian history, as “invaders” from the south.
The sources cited in this account, including the book “Eenyummaan Dhokate” (Hidden Identity) and “Bultoo Hubachiisaa” (The Informer) by Bulto Hubechi, argue that the Oromo people have been in the Horn of Africa for millennia, that they are central to the Christian heritage of Ethiopia, and that their history has been systematically stolen and distorted .
May the story of Aayyo Guddittii, the Lioness Queen, continue to inspire generations of Oromo people to reclaim their heritage, their history, and their identity. The truth, once buried, will always find a way to the surface.
“Bariisaa Newspaper is the Heart of the Oromo Struggle” – Father of Bariisaa
In the annals of Oromo media history, few names shine as brightly as that of Dr. Mahadii Hamid Mudee—known to millions simply as “Abbaa Bariisaa” (Father of Bariisaa). He is the founder of Bariisaa newspaper, a publication that became the heartbeat of Oromo cultural and political awakening.
For decades, Bariisaa has played an extraordinary role in elevating Oromo culture, language, and history. It has championed the rights of the Oromo people, defended their dignity, and brought their struggles into the light. Dr. Mahadii Hamid Mudee stands as a towering figure in this legacy—a scholar, activist, and journalist who dedicated his life to the Oromo cause without seeking personal gain.
The following is an exclusive interview with the man himself.
Bariisaa: Dr., let’s get acquainted. When and where were you born?
Abbaa Bariisaa: My birth name is Mahadii Hamid Mudee. Later, I became known as “Abbaa Bariisaa.” Some also call me “Abbaa Dikshinarii” (Father of the Dictionary). You may call me Dr. Mahadii or Abbaa Bariisaa.
I was born in 1942 in Eastern Oromia, West Hararge Zone, in the town of Chiro. My father is Obbo Hamid Mudee, and my mother is Aadde Hamiida Ahmad.
Bariisaa: Where did you complete your primary, secondary, and higher education?
Abbaa Bariisaa: Before joining modern schools, I studied at an Islamic religious school. I then entered the formal education system starting from Grade 3. I completed my primary and secondary education at “Dajjaazmaach Waldagabir” School in Chiro town.
At that time, students could skip grades based on performance—from first to third, then to the next level. I completed both primary and secondary school in just six years. For my higher education, I studied at Addis Ababa University for three years.
During my third year studying Physics at the university, I was assigned for practical training to North Gojjam Zone in Amhara Region, at “Negus Taklahaymanot” Secondary School in Dabra Maarkos.
The school refused to rent me a room because of my religion—I am Muslim. I spent three months living in a hotel while teaching. Because of this, I decided to leave the position. But they transferred my Physics colleague to Bahir Dar and sent me there instead.
At Bahir Dar, there were many students, and I taught double sessions—morning and afternoon. In the evenings, with no other work, I began preparing textbooks in Afaan Oromoo for the children. I taught there for two and a half years until the revolution of 1966 (Ethiopian calendar) erupted.
Bariisaa: How did you start preparing Bariisaa newspaper?
Abbaa Bariisaa: At that time, there were many newspapers in various languages—but none in Afaan Oromoo. The question “Why isn’t there a newspaper in Oromo?” constantly occupied my mind. From this reflection came the desire to start an Oromo-language newspaper.
Initially, I thought preparing and publishing a newspaper in Oromo would be simple. But when I got down to work, I realized it was extremely difficult. In 1964, I approached Dr. Tasefaye Gabre’igzii, then Minister of Information, and asked for permission to publish a newspaper in Oromo. He responded with anger: “How dare you come to my office asking to publish a newspaper in Oromo? Get out!” He kicked me out of his office. I left, burning with anger.
In 1966, Ahaduu Saaburee became Minister of Information. I approached him again. He didn’t refuse me as harshly as Dr. Tasefaye, but he also didn’t give me permission.
Then, in September 1966 (Ethiopian calendar), Haile Selassie was overthrown and the Derg came to power.
In 1967, Kumalaa Girmaay Yilmaa became Minister of Information. I went to him and requested permission to publish an Oromo newspaper. Unlike those who had insulted me, Kumalaa Girmaay listened. He said to me: “You have asked for two impossible things. First, a private individual cannot publish a newspaper. Second, publishing a newspaper in Oromo is not allowed. If you had asked to publish in another language, I would have given you permission today. I cannot authorize an Oromo newspaper, but you can try asking other officials.”
Bariisaa: How did you finally get permission?
Abbaa Bariisaa: At that time, I knew people like Luba Gudina Tumsa, his brother Baaroo Tumsa, and Obbo Leencoo Lataa. We discussed the matter and decided to approach someone who supported the Oromo cause—Colonel Takkaa Tulluu, an Oromo official in the Derg government.
Together with Baaroo Tumsa and Leencoo Lataa, we went to Colonel Takkaa. He asked what we wanted. We said, “We have come to request permission to publish a newspaper in Oromo.” He asked, “Why didn’t you ask the Minister of Information?” We explained that we had asked but were refused. Colonel Takkaa said, “I will ask on your behalf.” We replied, “If you can’t get full authorization, at least ask for permission for just one day.”
Because it was the first anniversary of the Derg’s coming to power—September 2, 1968—they granted us permission to publish Bariisaa in Oromo for just one day. But we decided to seize the opportunity: “We will publish if we live; if we die, we die.” We declared that Bariisaa would be published every two weeks, and if it was stopped, we would challenge the government. And so, the first issue of Bariisaa was published in Oromo.
Bariisaa: How did you distribute the first issue?
Abbaa Bariisaa: For the first issue, we printed 20,000 copies. We donated 1,000 to the Kibur Zabanya (Imperial Guard), 1,000 to the Fourth Army Division in Finfinne near Laga Harre, 1,000 to the police, 1,000 to the Air Force in Bishooftu, and 1,000 to the Navy and Oromo farmers. The remaining copies were sold at 10 cents each.
Bariisaa: What happened after that?
Abbaa Bariisaa: When we went to the Ministry of Information to ask for permission for the second issue, they arrested us. They said, “We only authorized one issue, but you told the public it would be published every two weeks—you are inciting the people against the government.” They threw us in the “Maakelaawi” prison. But I was released soon after.
Bariisaa: How long was Bariisaa suspended, and how did it resume?
Abbaa Bariisaa: Bariisaa was suspended for five months. Then, an opportunity arose. Colonel Asraat Dastaa was the Deputy Minister of Information responsible for Public Relations. When he went abroad for training, a man named Irreessaa Fissahaa Gadaa was acting in his position.
We approached him and asked for permission to publish Bariisaa. He said, “I can’t authorize what the colonel refused. When he returns, I don’t know what will happen—you could be arrested again. But I have an idea. Go to someone more powerful than me, someone Colonel Asraat fears, and get authorization from him.” He suggested Mangistuu Hayilamaariyam (the former president of Ethiopia). We went to him, and he gave us permission.
With the authorization of Colonel Mangistu, Bariisaa resumed publication every week. When Colonel Asraat returned from abroad and heard that Bariisaa had been authorized, he said, “What kind of world is this? I leave the country for a few days, and this happens!”
Bariisaa: What were the challenges under the Derg?
Abbaa Bariisaa: They constantly looked for ways to destroy us. Bariisaa was building Oromo unity, promoting Oromo language, culture, and history, and defending Oromo rights—so it was hated by the regime.
In 1969, we organized an Oromo Cultural Exhibition in Finfinne at the “Biheraawwii Tiyaatir” Hall. The goal was to raise funds for Bariisaa. People came from all over Oromia in the tens of thousands. But the authorities said, “Everything you do must be under the name of the Ministry of Culture.” In December 1969, the government shut down Bariisaa. The closure was even announced on the radio.
Bariisaa: What was the difference between Bariisaa under private ownership and after it was taken over by the government?
Abbaa Bariisaa: In the private era, everyone worked without pay. Lammeessaa Boruu, a father of a family, earned 100 birr per month; Immiruu Angoosee earned 70 birr. Ibraahiim Hajii Alii worked for two years without any salary. I also worked without pay. We worked because of our deep commitment to the Oromo cause.
The Oromo people themselves were our reporters and sources of information. We focused on what the people wanted to hear, learn, and benefit from.
After the government took over, the content shifted. Most of what was published reflected the government’s message to the people, rather than the people’s message to the government. Our sources of information shifted from the people to the regime. Reporting Oromo issues to the government became secondary to conveying government wishes to the people.
The government allocated 500,000 birr per year and a vehicle to the newspaper. Reporters like Caalchisaa Ciibsaa, Waaqgaarii Gunjoo, Mahaammad Hasan, Bulloo Siibaa, Ibiraahiim Hajii, and Kuwee Kumsaafaa were hired with salaries. Two proofreaders and a “free-lancer” were also paid. I was paid 800 birr as chief editor.
Bariisaa: When did you stop working on the newspaper?
Abbaa Bariisaa: After the government took over, I realized I could no longer work with the freedom I needed. The political situation was difficult, so I decided to step away. I trained my successors over three months, rotating them weekly until they could manage the newspaper independently.
Bariisaa: What contribution did Bariisaa make to the Oromo people?
Abbaa Bariisaa: Bariisaa is the heart of the Oromo struggle. It strengthened Oromo unity and promoted Oromo language, culture, history, and identity. It focused on Oromo rights and benefits—which is why it was hated and called “ABO newspaper” (referring to the Oromo Liberation Front). Bariisaa was never separate from Oromo politics. The newspaper’s workers were deeply committed to the Oromo cause; many were imprisoned and some were killed.
Bariisaa: How did you get the name “Abbaa Bariisaa”?
Abbaa Bariisaa: From the founding of the newspaper until I stepped down, I was the chief editor. Because of this, the name “Abbaa Bariisaa” and “Abbaa Dikshinarii” was given to me, both at home and abroad.
Bariisaa: What did you do after leaving Bariisaa?
Abbaa Bariisaa: I was working with the “Guddinni Gamtaa” (Joint Committee) at the time. The government sent me to Harar to stabilize the political situation in Eastern Ethiopia. I was assigned to coordinate Radio Harar, the Ethiopian News Service, and military training. But when I went to Harar, I found Oromo children imprisoned for political reasons. I managed to have them released, and then I went to Saudi Arabia.
As a member of the OLF, I worked to organize the Oromo community in Saudi Arabia and raise funds for the cause. I told them that Oromos should not live as slaves in their own land. I built relationships with foreign governments to raise awareness about the Oromo issue. I stayed in Saudi Arabia for four and a half years, then moved to America.
Bariisaa: Did you face personal difficulties while working on Bariisaa?
Abbaa Bariisaa: Yes, I faced many pressures. But I never stepped back from speaking the truth or doing my work. I wasn’t afraid of being killed or losing my job. However, I did face a time when I could no longer return to my home. I left my house and stayed with relatives, friends, or wherever I could find shelter.
After I left the country, my mother was taken to a police station at 6:00 PM and interrogated. They beat her and demanded to know where I was. The harm my mother suffered because of me was terrible. She was forced to leave her home, and she never knew where I was. My colleagues also suffered greatly.
Bariisaa: What did you feel when you saw Bariisaa 42 years later upon your return from America?
Abbaa Bariisaa: I felt both joy and sorrow. I was overjoyed to see that the newspaper had not died or disappeared. But it saddened me that the circulation had dropped from 20,000 to 10,000. For a population of 50 million Oromos, printing only 10,000 copies is not enough. This requires serious thought and action.
Bariisaa: What would you like to see for Bariisaa’s future?
Abbaa Bariisaa: I want to see the circulation exceed one million, published daily. I want Facebook followers to number in the millions. I want distribution to reach all corners of Ethiopia and beyond. I want the newspaper to reach every school in Oromia, and I want it available in public libraries so everyone can read it.
Bariisaa: What kind of content would make Bariisaa more beloved among the Oromo people?
Abbaa Bariisaa: What determines whether Bariisaa is loved or not is its content. You must work within your limits. Don’t rely on lies or flattering the government to gain popularity—earn it through truth.
If the newspaper presents what is right, true, and just, it will be beloved. Speaking truth and justice won’t even cause problems with the government. Content that highlights Oromo culture, language, history, and development—that protects Oromo rights, promotes their interests, and brings solutions to Oromo problems based on verified truth—that is what will make Bariisaa truly beloved.
Bariisaa: What did you do about the Oromo cause while in America?
Abbaa Bariisaa: People do two things: one is what they do for a living, and the other is what their conscience tells them. Working for the Oromo cause is what my conscience demands. I worked without pay before, and I continue to do so. What I have earned is not measured in dollars, but in service to the Oromo people.
In America, I wrote and published ten books. I prepared a dictionary (known as “Dikshinarii Hamiid Mudee”). I also worked for 21 years to make Oromo a technological language, preparing software and manual guides.
Bariisaa: How do you view the changes happening in Ethiopia today?
Abbaa Bariisaa: If I speak truthfully, the changes are very encouraging. The country has made great strides and is emerging from darkness. The respect for human rights fills me with great joy.
However, I also have great concern. I am deeply grateful to those who sacrificed to make these changes possible. The reason I can return to my country is because of these changes. I pray that the progress continues.
Bariisaa: How do you see today’s media in Ethiopia?
Abbaa Bariisaa: Some private media, driven by hate politics, are working not to build the country but to destroy it. This concerns me greatly. Both government and private media should work based on truth and justice, with a unified voice. Their information should be based on verified facts and reality. Repeating lies to corrupt people’s minds must stop. Media that works for truth should stand firm against false media and publish what is real and just.
It would be good to have a Media Council to oversee and regulate all media. Such a council should expose, control, and correct media that spread lies—independent of government influence. The government should support the establishment of such a council.
If media outlets spread unverified information—whether true or false—they can cause division and destruction. They should be careful. Media that refutes falsehoods with truth should be encouraged. Journalism that pits one group against another with misinformation must end.
Bariisaa: How do you want to support Bariisaa in the future?
Abbaa Bariisaa: Until the Oromo issue finds a solution, I will not rest. Oromo nationalism still lives within me. I will never step back from working for Bariisaa and for the Oromo people. I will work to make the newspaper known internationally. I also want to use my knowledge and resources to help in Ethiopia.
Interview conducted by Natsaannat Taaddasaa
Bariisaa Newspaper, June 20, 2011
The History of Oromo Writing and the Role of Dr. Sheikh Mohammed Rashaad
Language is a tool of communication and a symbol of identity. But for the Oromo people, their language remained largely oral for centuries—confined to the spoken word while the world around them moved forward in ink. The story of how Afaan Oromoo finally found its written form is a story of struggle, sacrifice, and one man’s relentless vision.
A Language Without Letters
The Oromo language, spoken by tens of millions across the Horn of Africa, was for a long time a language of the spoken word alone. Unlike many of its neighbors, Afaan Oromoo lacked an indigenous writing system that could accurately capture its unique sounds and grammatical structure.
Efforts to write Oromo began in the 19th century. The first known written Oromo texts were religious manuscripts from the Rayya area, produced during the time of the sheikhs of Anniyya and Danniya. These were handwritten poetry collections, hymns to God and His Prophet, penned with a reed pen using the Arabic script.
But the Arabic script was never a perfect fit for Oromo. Arabic has only a limited set of vowels and consonant distinctions. Oromo, by contrast, has ten vowels and a richer set of consonants. Six Oromo phonemes—c, ch, dh, g, ny, and ph—had no direct equivalents in Arabic writing. Scholars had to adapt, improvise, and sometimes simply make do with imperfect approximations.
Three Scripts, Three Attempts
The Ethiopian Script (Ge’ez/Amharic)
In 1886, an Oromo man named Onisimos Nasiib (Abbaa Gammachiis) translated the Bible into Oromo and had it published in Asmara, Eritrea. He used the Ge’ez script—the same writing system used for Amharic and Tigrinya. This script, however, was designed for languages with seven vowels, not ten. It could not adequately represent Oromo sounds, and the translation, while groundbreaking, was limited by the tools at hand.
The Italian Contribution
After the Italian occupation of Ethiopia in 1935, the Italian linguist Martino Mario Moreno conducted systematic research on the Oromo language. In 1939, he published Grammatica teorico-pratica della lingua galla (Theoretical-Practical Grammar of the Galla Language) in Milan, using a Latin-based alphabet. His work was the first to accurately describe the phonology, morphology, and syntax of Oromo in a scientific way.
“The period of Moreno can be called the ‘Moreno Era’—a time when the science of linguistics began to properly understand the language”.
Moreno’s alphabet represented a significant step forward:
‘ A B C Č D Ḑ0 E F G H I J K L M N Ñ O H Q R S Ṧ T Ṭ U W Y Z
The Sheikh Bakri Script
Meanwhile, within Oromo society, a different approach was emerging. Sheikh Bakri Sapalo (born Abubakar Garad Usman, 1895-1980), an Oromo scholar and religious teacher, invented an entirely new writing system for Oromo in 1956. His script was designed from the ground up to capture Oromo sounds accurately.
Sheikh Bakri had studied under several distinguished Islamic teachers and became renowned for his poetry. Under Haile Selassie’s regime, however, Oromo language was banned in education, conversation, and administrative matters. Sheikh Bakri’s script was developed in secrecy, perhaps to avoid detection by authorities who would have opposed Oromo writing in any form.
His most important work was Shalda, a twenty-page pamphlet that purported to be religious instruction but was actually a veiled account of Oromo suffering under Haile Selassie. It became the first and last major work in his alphabet. In 1965, Sheikh Bakri was placed under house arrest. In 1978, he fled to a refugee camp in Somalia, where he died without ever seeing his script widely adopted.
Dr. Sheikh Mohammed Rashaad: The Man Who Completed the Mission
A Journey Begins on Foot
Born in 1934 in Eastern Oromia, in a village called Laga Arba, Sheikh Mohammed Rashaad Abdullee grew up under the harsh realities of colonial settler rule. As a young man, he was severely chastised by one of the settlers. With no one to defend him, his young mind resolved on a radical course: he would go overseas to acquire skills and weapons for his people’s emancipation.
At the age of 15, in 1949, he left Ethiopia on foot. He traveled through Djibouti, Yemen, and Saudi Arabia, performing Hajj in 1950. From there, he continued to Syria, where he spent five years at the Fatul Islam school in Damascus, eventually earning the title of Mufti.
In 1956, he entered Al-Azhar University in Cairo, a center of learning and liberation movements across Africa. There, surrounded by students from across the continent, his Oromo consciousness deepened.
“When he entered Al-Azhar University in 1956, all nations began to showcase their languages, cultures, and identities. He saw histories of different countries beautifully written and thought, ‘We also have a history to tell, a language to speak, a script to write with'”.
The Mogadishu Years: Radio and Rebellion
After graduating with top honors in 1962, receiving an award from Egyptian President Gamal Abdel Nasser, Sheikh Rashaad was sent by Al-Azhar to Somalia. There, he was hired by the Somali government as a linguistic expert. This gave him a new opportunity to study Oromo language using available Somali sources.
In Mogadishu, he joined forces with other Oromo refugees and intellectuals, including the journalist Ayub Abubakar. Together, they started the first Oromo-language radio broadcast from Mogadishu in 1965. The program began at 15 minutes, grew to 30, and eventually to a full hour.
“The broadcast shook the Haile Selassie regime in Ethiopia, which dispatched agents to assassinate and put a stop to their work. Haile Selassie’s agents eventually assassinated Ayub but were apprehended in Mogadisho before they could similarly murder Sheikh Rashad”.
The Birth of Qubee
It was during this period that Sheikh Rashaad discovered the suitability of the Latin script for writing Oromo. His comparative studies of Oromo and Somali led him to develop the modern Oromo alphabet.
In 1969, he prepared a manuscript titled “Fura Afaan Oromoo” (The Key to Oromo), which was handwritten and circulated among Oromo communities. Two years later, in 1971, it was published—the first complete Oromo-language reader in the modern Latin alphabet.
The book faced immediate challenges. In Somalia, the regime tried to impose the label “Somali-Abbo” on Oromos and recalled his book to redo the cover. But in haste, they left the inside page intact, which still read “Fura Afaan Oromoo”—exposing the plot. In Ethiopia, his writings were strictly forbidden; anyone found with them would face severe punishment.
Exile and Lifelong Work
Under pressure from both sides, Sheikh Rashaad relocated to Saudi Arabia, where he continued his scholarly work. Over the following decades, he produced an extraordinary body of work:
- The first Quran translation in Afaan Oromoo
- Translation of over 40 Hadith books from Arabic to Oromo
- The first Somali-Oromo dictionary
- The first Arabic-Oromo dictionary
- Numerous articles on Islam with particular emphasis on Eastern Africa
- Hajj and Umra guidance for Oromo pilgrims
- Collections of Oromo traditional songs (miriysaa, dhiichisa, geerarsa)
- Children’s stories in Oromo
- History of the Prophet Muhammad in Oromo
- History of Islam in Oromo
“He spent over 15 years conducting research on the Oromo and Somali languages, which later became the focus of his thesis for a PhD in linguistic studies, which he received from the UK”.
Recognition and Final Years
In recognition of his lifelong contribution, the Oromo Studies Association bestowed on him its Lifetime Achievement Award in 2009. In 2010, the Oromiyaa Radio and Television (ORTO) recognized him for his contribution to the development of the Oromo alphabet.
In 2009, he returned to his homeland, settling in Adama, central Oromia. But his final years were not peaceful. When the Ethiopian regime tried to impose a particular interpretation of Islam on the faithful, Sheikh Rashaad objected. For his conviction, he was evicted from his home and forced to relocate to Dire Dawa.
Fiercely independent and unquestionably loyal to his people, Dr. Sheikh Mohammed Rashaad passed away with dignity on May 25, 2013, at the age of 79.
The Legacy
Sheikh Rashaad was not alone. He worked alongside others who contributed to the development of Oromo writing. Haylee Fidaa and Abdullaahi Yuusuf, Oromo students in Europe, adopted the Moreno alphabet with modifications and published two important books in 1973-74: Hirmaata Dubbii Afaan Oromoo (an Oromo grammar) and Bara Birraan Barihe (a drama about the suffering under the Neftenya system).
But it was Sheikh Rashaad who provided the definitive, scientifically-based alphabet that would eventually be adopted for all Oromo writing—from educational materials to official government communications to the translations that would bring the world’s knowledge into the Oromo language.
“His contribution in informing and educating the masses and in strengthening Oromo nationalism, despite serious threats and challenges, is immense. His works will live with the Oromo people forever and continue to inspire millions”.
Today, when millions of Oromo children learn to read and write in their own language, when Oromo scholars publish research in international journals, when the Bible and the Quran are read in Oromo by millions, the foundation they are building on—the alphabet they are using—is the one that Sheikh Mohammed Rashaad developed, refined, and fought to protect.
He ranks among the patriotic Oromo religious scholars from both Muslim and Christian traditions who, despite persecution from successive regimes, paid heavy sacrifices for their people. Among them are the Reverend Gudina Tumsa, who gave his life for the cause; Sheikh Bakri Saphalo, who died in a refugee camp; and the great Abbaa Gammachis, who endured humiliation and subjugation. They remain giant role models who will continue to inspire future generations—shining forever like lighthouses in a free Oromia.
May the angels welcome this man who made written Oromo language accessible to millions—a renewer of his time, a truly great man.
A Concise History of Oromo Media: From Colonial Radio to Digital Revolution
From the hills of Jimma to the screens of the diaspora, the journey of Oromo media is a story of resilience, sacrifice, and an unyielding quest for voice. It is a tale that begins not with ink on paper, but with electromagnetic waves cutting through the Ethiopian highlands during a time of war.
Part One: The Electronic Beginning
In the history of world media, print came first. Newspapers and magazines preceded radio and television. But in the story of Oromo media, the opposite is true. The first medium to speak the language of the Oromo people was not a newspaper—it was a radio station.
The Italian Experiment (1935-1941)
It was during the Italian occupation of Ethiopia that the first Oromo-language radio broadcast came to life. When Emperor Haile Selassie fled the country following Italy’s invasion, the fascist regime of Victor Emmanuel III sought to consolidate its control over the diverse peoples of the empire.
The Italians understood something the previous regime had ignored: that the Oromo people, who had been subjugated under the Neftenya (Amhara settler) system, harbored deep resentment toward the imperial order. To win their loyalty—or at least their compliance—the colonial administration needed to speak to them in their own language.
In a move that would forever change Oromo history, the Italians built a radio station near the city of Jimma. They called it “Centro Radio” in Italian, but the local Oromo people gave it a name that has stuck to this day—Shanta-Raadiyoonii (Radio Station). The hill where it was built, approximately 10 kilometers northwest of Jimma, still bears this name. To this day, visitors to Jimma can look toward the northwest and see the spot where the first Oromo voice entered the airwaves.
This radio station, however, served a calculated purpose. It was designed to persuade Oromos to embrace Italian fascism over Ethiopian imperialism—trading one master for another. The Italians dismantled the Neftenya system and replaced it with a form of ethnic-based administration, drawing borders along ethnic lines for the first time. But their propaganda was not liberation; it was another form of subjugation.
When Haile Selassie returned to power with British support in 1941, he quickly shut down the Italian-built station. Its equipment—studios, transmitters, and antennas—was dismantled and moved to Addis Ababa (Finfinne). The emperor tried to erase the memory of the station, even attempting to suppress the name “Shanta-Raadiyoonii.” But the people would not forget. For years after, Oromos remembered the brief time they had heard their language on the radio.
The Cairo Experiment (1960s)
The emperor had made a fatal miscalculation. He feared that acknowledging Oromo language on national radio would strengthen ethnic solidarity against his rule. And so, for decades, Oromo voices remained silent on Ethiopian airwaves.
But in the 1960s, a new voice emerged—from Egypt.
Oromo students studying at Al-Azhar University in Cairo, including the pioneering scholar Sheik Muhammad Rashaad Abdullee, established an Oromo-language radio broadcast from Cairo. This was different from the Italian station. The Cairo broadcast was not propaganda for any foreign power; it was a genuine Oromo voice advocating for Oromo rights, educating the people about their history, and mobilizing resistance against the Neftenya system.
The emperor’s government was alarmed. In his eyes, a broadcast of Oromo from Cairo was not a weapon to be used against him—and he could not allow it to continue. Through diplomatic pressure, Haile Selassie’s government persuaded the Egyptian regime to shut down the station.
The Mogadishu Martyrs (1967)
As soon as the Cairo station went silent, a new one emerged—this time from Mogadishu, Somalia. Oromo scholars and intellectuals who had studied in Egypt, including the likes of Sheik Muhammad Rashaad and others, moved to Somalia and established another Oromo-language radio station. Among those who joined this effort was a young Oromo journalist named Ayub Abubakar.
This station had a profound impact, particularly in the eastern Oromo regions of Hararge. The broadcasts ignited resistance and brought Oromo national consciousness to a new level. The emperor’s regime, already nervous, could not tolerate this. They struck a deal with the government of Siad Barre in Somalia to silence the station. When diplomatic pressure failed to achieve full compliance, the emperor’s agents reached into Mogadishu itself.
On a Friday afternoon in 1967, near a place called Liizo on the shores of the Indian Ocean, 25-year-old Ayub Abubakar was washing clothes. Agents of the imperial regime seized him and killed him. His body was found two days later and buried in Mogadishu. His crime? He had dared to give his people a voice.
Other journalists from that station managed to escape. Abubakar Muussaa, who would later bring his artistry to Radio Harar; Shantam Shubbisaa (the last living survivor today); Abdii Huseen; and Hindiyaa Ahmed (Shantam Shubbisaa’s wife) were among those who continued the struggle. They are the founding fathers and mothers of Oromo media, and their sacrifices paved the way for everything that followed.
Part Two: Radio Harar—A Calculated Gamble
By the early 1970s, the emperor had reached a desperate conclusion. The Mogadishu station had become too powerful to ignore. Fearful that the Oromo people of Hararge would align with Somalia against the Ethiopian state, Haile Selassie’s government made a strategic decision.
They would open their own Oromo-language radio station.
The Birth of Radio Harar (1973)
In 1973, Radio Harar was launched. But it was never intended as a genuine celebration of Oromo culture. According to veterans of the station, “Radio Harar was not originally intended for the Oromo when it was launched. Prior to that, a radio station broadcasting in Oromo was established in Mogadishu.”
The emperor’s government feared that if they opened an Oromo station in Addis Ababa (Finfinne), the Oromo people would unite around it. If they did nothing, the eastern Oromo would align with Mogadishu. Their solution was to create a limited, controlled Oromo-language program called “Qophii Afaan Oromoo”—a station they could monitor and manipulate.
The Price of Voice
But even under imperial control, Radio Harar became something more than its creators intended. The station’s Oromo staff—journalists, artists, and technicians—turned it into a genuine voice for their people.
The station faced immense pressure. Its journalists were imprisoned, persecuted, and killed. The bandleader Abubakar Muussaa survived persecution under Haile Selassie and later faced mortal danger from the Derg regime. The singer Abdi Qophee (Mohammed) wrote lyrics that became anthems of Oromo resistance.
For Jaafar Ali, who grew up listening to Radio Harar and later worked there as a producer of dramas and educational programs, the station was more than a workplace—it was family. “Our programming wasn’t just for entertainment,” he recalls. “We also produced programs for the struggle, about the persecution, imprisonment, and oppression that was being perpetrated against Oromos.”
Part Three: The Derg Era—From Suppression to Instrumentalization
In 1974, the Derg military regime overthrew Haile Selassie. At first, it seemed the new regime might be more amenable to Oromo aspirations. For the first time, Oromo language was allowed on Ethiopian national radio and television. Newspapers like Bariisaa began publication in Afaan Oromoo.
The Derg’s Instrumentalization
But the Derg’s motives were strategic, not benevolent. The regime used Oromo language to achieve three goals:
- Divide and co-opt: The Derg sought to bring educated Oromo elites into its fold, painting them as integral parts of a “revolutionary” Ethiopia while pitting them against the old Neftenya establishment.
- Create the illusion of change: By embracing Oromo language, the regime hoped to win the loyalty of the Oromo people and distinguish itself from the previous imperial order.
- Broadcast socialist ideology: Using Oromo language allowed the regime to disseminate its ideology to a wider audience, framing socialism as the true path to Oromo liberation.
Despite these political motivations, the Derg era brought significant development to Oromo media. Radio broadcasts in Oromo expanded. Oromo music flourished. Artists like Dr. Ali Birra and Wasannuu Didoo emerged, singing songs that, while occasionally paying lip service to the regime, secretly educated and mobilized the Oromo people.
Listen to the words of Dr. Ali Birra’s songs from that era:
“What did they say, what did they tell us?
When minds are tortured,
When life is spent in lies!
Those who lost land and had livestock stolen,
Those who fled from fear to the hills—
Why should they accept a bridle?!
Those who drove the enemy into foreign woods,
Those whose freedom was bought with blood…”
Songs like these resonated with the Oromo people across the country, reminding them of their shared suffering and inspiring a generation of resistance fighters. Even a radio station not built for Oromo liberation could, in the hands of Oromo artists, serve the cause of freedom.
The Birth of SBO (1988)
The most significant development of the Derg era came in 1988, when the first explicitly Oromo liberation radio station was established by Oromo freedom fighters. This was Sagalee Bilisummaa Oromoo (SBO)—the Voice of Oromo Liberation.
SBO was different from all previous Oromo broadcasts. It was established:
- By Oromos, for Oromos: Not as a colonial tool or a state calculation, but as an instrument of Oromo national liberation.
- On a scientific historical foundation: SBO educated Oromos about their history, culture, and political rights in a systematic, analytical way.
- At a time of technological expansion: By 1988, radio ownership had spread to many Oromo homes, both in cities and rural areas. SBO could reach a broad audience quickly.
SBO became the voice of the Oromo liberation struggle, broadcasting resistance messages and mobilizing the people. Its impact was profound, and it laid the groundwork for the media explosion that would follow.
Part Four: The Post-Derg Transformation (1991-2000s)
In 1991, the Derg regime fell. A new Ethiopia emerged, and with it, a new era for Oromo media.
ETV and the First Oromo Television Broadcast
For the first time in history, Oromo language was broadcast on Ethiopian Television (ETV). Oromo had moved from audio to video—from ears to eyes. This was a watershed moment.
The Written Word Emerges
Following the fall of the Derg, a true “Oromo media explosion” occurred:
- Oromo on television began for the first time.
- The Latin script for Afaan Oromoo was officially adopted, after extensive research by Oromo scholars. This paved the way for widespread literacy and publication.
- Independent newspapers and magazines began publishing in Afaan Oromoo in cities across Oromia and beyond—a first in Oromo media history.
- Mass literacy campaigns in the Oromo script meant that Oromos could now read and write in their own language, dramatically expanding the media market.
VOA and International Recognition (1996)
On November 8, 1996, another milestone was reached: the Voice of America (VOA) began broadcasting in Afaan Oromoo. This was a stunning development—Oromo had joined the ranks of major world languages recognized by one of the world’s most powerful broadcasters.
At first, Oromo broadcasts were only 15 minutes per day. Meanwhile, Amharic broadcasts were reduced from 60 to 30 minutes—a shift that caused significant political controversy. Critics accused VOA of bowing to Oromo pressure, but the American broadcaster had done its homework: it recognized that Oromo was the language of one of Africa’s largest ethnic groups, a language with a growing global presence.
Diaspora Media Grows
Throughout the 1990s and 2000s, Oromo diaspora media flourished. Diaspora radio stations like Radio Sagalee Oromoo (RSO) launched. In the 2000s, the first Oromo television station in the diaspora—Oromo TV—began broadcasting from Minnesota, USA.
Part Five: The Internet Revolution—A Level Playing Field
The most transformative development in Oromo media has been the rise of the internet. For the first time in history, Oromo language has achieved something truly revolutionary: it now competes on a level playing field with Amharic.
Script and Technology
A key factor in this transformation has been the script. Oromo’s adoption of the Latin alphabet gave it a massive advantage in the digital age. While Amharic and Tigrinya speakers struggled to adapt their ancient Ge’ez scripts to computers, keyboards, email, and social media, Oromos could simply type.
Today, 80% of Eritreans—who also used Ge’ez script—have shifted to Latin script for digital communication, including emails, Facebook, Messenger, Skype, and mobile texts. The situation for Amharic speakers in Ethiopia is not significantly different.
The Rise of Oromo Websites, Social Media, and Online Media
The internet has enabled:
- Oromo websites and online publications to flourish, providing news, analysis, and cultural content.
- Social media (Facebook, Twitter, Telegram) to become dominated by Oromo voices, with Oromo activists driving discourse on Ethiopian and international issues.
- Online radio and TV to reach a global Oromo audience, free from state control.
Oromo social media presence is often more vibrant and dynamic than Amharic presence—a remarkable development given the historical dominance of Amharic in Ethiopian public life.
Part Six: The Road Ahead—Challenges and Opportunities
Despite this progress, significant challenges remain.
The Rural Majority
More than 85% of the Oromo people still live in rural areas. Many do not have access to television, internet, or even reliable radio signals. Media content—no matter how powerful—cannot reach them effectively.
State Jamming and Censorship
State-owned media in Ethiopia remains tightly controlled. Oromo-language broadcasts are often co-opted for state propaganda, and independent Oromo media faces pressure, jamming, and censorship.
The Need for Strong, Unified Media
The proliferation of independent Oromo media organizations is a strength. But it also risks fragmentation. Many diaspora Oromo radio and TV stations operate with limited resources, broadcasting to small audiences. The sustainability of these efforts is questionable.
The solution, many argue, lies in consolidation. Instead of dozens of small, struggling stations, Oromos should pool resources to create one powerful, well-funded, well-staffed media organization capable of:
- Producing high-quality, standardized programming that reaches rural audiences.
- Overcoming state jamming and propaganda with technical sophistication.
- Serving as a true voice of the Oromo people—educating, entertaining, and mobilizing.
The Challenge of Content
Even as technology improves, content remains a challenge. Oromo media must move beyond mere entertainment and propaganda. It must deliver substantive, accurate, and transformative content that addresses the real needs of the Oromo people—from education to health, from economic development to cultural preservation.
Conclusion: A Voice That Will Not Be Silenced
The history of Oromo media is a story of struggle against overwhelming odds. From the colonial radio of Jimma to the diaspora television of Minnesota, from the martyred journalists of Mogadishu to the vibrant voices of social media, Oromos have never stopped seeking to speak—and to be heard.
The journey has been long and painful. The Italian radio was propaganda. The emperor’s station was a calculated gamble. The Derg’s broadcasts were instrumentalized. But in each case, Oromo artists, journalists, and intellectuals took these tools and turned them into instruments of liberation.
Today, Oromo media is more vibrant and accessible than ever before. But the work is not complete. Millions of Oromos still lack access to reliable, trustworthy media in their language. The state still seeks to control the narrative. The diaspora still struggles to reach the homeland.
But the trajectory is clear. Oromo media will continue to grow. The voice of the Oromo people, once silenced, will become louder and clearer. And the martyrs of Mogadishu, the dreamers of Cairo, the artists of Radio Harar—their legacy will be fulfilled.
The history of Oromo media is a history of defiance. It is proof that a people who refuse to be silenced, who insist on speaking their truth in their own language, can never truly be conquered.
May the voices of those who came before rest in peace. And may those of us who carry the microphone today do justice to their memory and their dream.
The above feature story is adapted from YB, February 2014, Asmara, Ertirea.
Stand Up and Be Counted: The Oromo Community’s Call to Action for the 2026 Australian Census
By Daandii Ragabaa
MELBOURNE/SYDNEY/CANBERRA – A powerful call is echoing across Australian cities and suburbs, urging every Oromo person to stand up and be counted. On Tuesday, 11 August 2026, the Australian Census will offer what community leaders describe as a once-in-a-five-year opportunity to secure the Oromo community’s visibility, identity, and influence in the national landscape.
For decades, Oromo Australians have been rendered statistically invisible, their rich heritage and growing numbers absorbed into broader, less specific categories such as “Ethiopian” or “Other African.” This lack of precise data has meant that government funding, language services, youth programs, and multicultural support have often failed to reach the community in proportion to its actual size. But this year, every Oromo person holds the power to change that narrative—simply by identifying clearly and proudly as Oromo.
The Power of Two Answers
Community advocates are spreading a clear and urgent message: On Census Day, every household must take two decisive steps.
- For Ancestry: Choose “Oromo.”
- For Language Spoken at Home: Choose “Oromo/Afaan Oromo.”
These two seemingly simple answers are, in fact, powerful political and social tools. They ensure that the community is not only counted accurately but also recognised in federal and state government planning. When the Australian Bureau of Statistics (ABS) compiles its data, accurate Oromo responses directly translate into evidence-based allocations for services, from interpreting and translation resources to culturally appropriate aged care and youth mentorship initiatives.
A History of Invisibility
The numbers from previous Census years paint a sobering picture. In the 2021 Census, only 2,578 people recorded Oromo ancestry, while 4,310 reported speaking Afaan Oromo at home. The significant gap between these two figures suggests that many community members—perhaps out of habit, misunderstanding, or a lack of clear guidance—did not fully self-identify.
Community leader Aliye Geleto, who has been at the forefront of the awareness campaign, emphasises the stakes involved. “If the Oromo public wants to have any influence on any entity—whether government, media, or civil society—we must first match their success with our own organised success. Being counted in the Census is the first and most fundamental step,” he stated.
A Community-Wide Mobilisation
The campaign is now a grassroots movement. Community organisations, cultural associations, and religious institutions are being urged to spread the message through every channel available. Social media platforms, community radio, WhatsApp groups, and local gatherings are buzzing with the hashtags #OromoCensus2026 and #StandUpAndBeCounted.
The process itself has been made simpler than ever. Households will receive a unique code in the mail, allowing them to complete the Census online quickly and securely. The deadline is clear: every form must be submitted on or before 11 August 2026.
Organisers are emphasising that every member of the household—children, youth, adults, and elders—must be recorded as Oromo. “When a family of five all ticks ‘Oromo,’ that is five voices that were previously silent. When a thousand families do it, that is a community that can no longer be ignored,” one community organiser explained.
Beyond Numbers: A Future of Influence
This visibility is not merely an exercise in statistics. It is a declaration of existence, a demand for recognition, and a blueprint for organised success. Accurate Census data will enable the Oromo community to advocate effectively for:
- Language Services: Afaan Oromo interpreters in hospitals, courts, and government offices.
- Cultural Events: Funding for annual Oromo cultural festivals, music, and arts.
- Youth Programs: Mentorship and leadership initiatives tailored to second-generation Oromo Australians.
- Multicultural Support: Targeted social services that understand the unique experiences of Oromo refugees and migrants.
As Australia continues to evolve as a multicultural nation, the Oromo community has a unique chance to ensure its voice is heard in the halls of power. The Census is not just a government form; it is a mirror reflecting the nation’s diversity, and for too long, the Oromo reflection has been blurred.
A Final Plea
As 11 August approaches, the message is clear: Choose Oromo. Speak Oromo. Record Oromo. Share widely.
This is not just about being counted. It is about being seen. It is about being heard. And it is about building a future where the Oromo community in Australia is recognised for its true size, strength, and potential.
“Our future influence begins with our numbers,” Aliye Geleto reminds the community. “On 11 August 2026, let every Oromo in Australia stand up and be counted.”
#Oromo #OromoInAustralia #Census2026 #StandUpAndBeCounted #AfaanOromo
A New Dawn for the Oromo: The Proclamation of the Michilleen Jahan Bachoo Seera Caffee Baldhoo Gahate
By Daandii Ragabaa
BALDHOO, OROMIA – In a historic and vibrant ceremony that resonated with the weight of tradition and the promise of the future, the Michilleen Jahan Bachoo have officially proclaimed the long-anticipated Seera Caffee (Coffee Ceremony Law) to the Tuulamaa community. After a year of rigorous deliberation and community consultation, the law was ratified and publicly announced on Saturday, marking a pivotal moment in the region’s governance and cultural preservation.
The event, held at the Awaash Baldhoo grounds, was not merely a procedural formality but a powerful reaffirmation of Oromo identity and self-determination. Thousands gathered as the Michilleen (the clan leaders) stood before their people to declare the new legal framework that will guide the sacred institution of the Caffee, the traditional Oromo coffee ceremony that serves as a cornerstone of social and political life.
The Proclamation of the Law
The air was thick with the aroma of coffee and incense as the Michilleen, led by the distinguished figure of Jahan Bachoo, addressed the assembly. The Seera Caffee, which had been under review and debate, was officially and publicly announced, bringing clarity and structure to the cultural practice. This act symbolized the community’s commitment to preserving its heritage through codified law.
In a parallel and equally significant move, the Michilleen also implemented the long-standing Seera Dhaka-Koratti, formally electing and announcing the new leaders (the “Saglii” or nine) at various levels of the Gadaa system. The process was hailed for its transparency and adherence to traditional democratic principles.
The Installation of Leadership
The heart of the ceremony was the formal installation of the new leadership. The Michilleen appointed and inaugurated the leadership for the Awaash Baldhoo region, with a new eight-year term of governance being proclaimed. The announcement of the new Abbaa Gadaa (the leader of the Gadaa system) was met with resounding cheers and the sounding of traditional horns.
One of the most poignant moments was the public blessing and transfer of power to Fissahaa Fiixa, the newly appointed Abbaa Gadaa for the Tuulamaa Jahan Bachoo Lammeechaa Lammaa Alangee. The ritual, conducted with the pouring of milk and honey by elders and spiritual leaders, symbolized purity, abundance, and the sacred continuity of the Gadaa cycle. The new leader was presented with the symbols of his office, including the traditional staff and headdress, amidst ululations and prayers for wisdom.
Highlights of the Ceremony
- Public Announcement: The ratified laws were proclaimed to the entire community, ensuring that every clan member was aware of their rights and responsibilities under the new Seera.
- Blessings and Rituals: The occasion was marked by the ritual of “Damma Biifudhaan,” where honey and milk were poured by scholars (Hayyuu) and spiritual leaders to bless the new leadership and the land. The ritual also included a symbolic act of touching the earth with a ceremonial staff, invoking a prayer for rain and prosperity, as the heavens answered with a gentle shower that was seen as a divine omen.
- Reconstruction of the Gadaa Council: A significant focus was placed on rebuilding the council of Oromo scholars (Hayyota Gadaa Tuulamaa), with prominent figures who have played a crucial role in the process being honored and reinstated.
- Election of Officials: The new “Saglii” (nine leaders) for the Michillee at various levels were officially elected and their appointments confirmed.
The Jahan Bachoo Lineage
The event was particularly significant for the Jahan Bachoo, a major Oromo clan with a presence in multiple zones, including Sh/Ki/Lixaa, Sh/Lixaa, and Sh/Kaabaa, with a diaspora stretching across all of Oromia. The Jahan Bachoo clan is a confederation of sub-clans including Iluu, Garasuu, Meettaa, Keekuu, Uruu, and Waajituu. The unity displayed at the Baldhoon gathering underscored the enduring strength of the Gadaa system as a tool for uniting the Oromo people.
A Celebration of Culture and Continuity
The ceremony was a resounding success, blending the solemnity of law-making with the joy of cultural celebration. Traditional songs, dances, and the rhythmic chanting of the Gadaa system filled the air, creating an atmosphere of profound unity and hope. The proclamation of the Seera Caffee and the installation of the new Gadaa leaders marks a new chapter for the Tuulamaa community, one that honors the past while boldly stepping into the future.
As the sun set over the plains of Baldhoon, the community dispersed with a renewed sense of purpose, confident that the spirit of the Gadaa – with its principles of equality, justice, and consensus – will continue to guide them for generations to come.
#Oromoo #Tuulamaa #Gadaa #Michillee
Adaamaa: The City of Many Names
In the heart of Ethiopia’s Oromia region, nestled along the banks of the Awash River, lies a city that has worn many names like layers of history. To the Oromo, it is Adaamaa —a name given by a man. To others, it is Nazareth —a name imposed by empire. And to the elders who still remember, it is a land of ancient villages with names that whisper of a time before the city ever existed.
This is the story of Adaamaa, a city whose very name is a testament to the resilience of a people and the ever-shifting tides of power.
The Man Behind the Name
The name “Adaamaa” is not a random word. It comes from Adaamaa Buttaa, a man of the Torban Oboo clan . His story is woven into the fabric of the city’s founding, and the elders of his lineage have kept his memory alive through generations.
When the name was changed to “Nazareth” after 1948 G.C. , it was a wound that cut deep. The Oromo elders of the Torban Oboo clan responded with a biting poem, a lament that still echoes in the oral traditions of the region:
“Adaamaa gurrarraan yaasee, yaasee,
Dabalaa rabbiitu baasee,
Haylasillaseen kunumti ni maraatee?
Akka namaatti, lafa kiristinnaa kaasee”
Translated, it speaks of Adaamaa rising from the darkness, of God lifting the lowly, and of Haile Selassie’s attempt to claim the land as Christian territory. It was a poetic protest against the erasure of Oromo identity from a place that had long been theirs.
Before the City: A Landscape of Villages
Before Adaamaa was a city, before the name “Nazareth” was ever uttered, this land was home to Oromo villages. The Karrayyuu Oromo and the Torban Oboo clan lived in scattered settlements across the area . These were not empty lands waiting to be claimed; they were thriving communities with names that told stories of their own.
According to scholars like Alemayehu Haile, Corree (or Chorre) was not the name of a clan but the name of a place—a piece of Oromo land . The Karrayyuu Oromo called this area by that name long before any city was built. The villages of Kurriftuu, Sololoqaa, Qobboo, Ulkaa, and Marguu dotted the landscape, each with its own identity and history .
The site where the city would eventually rise was known as Didibbisa before the railway station was built . The river that flows through it, now called Hawaas, was known as Malkaa Hiddaa —a name that evokes the deep, flowing waters that sustained life in this land .
The Birth of a City
The modern city of Adaamaa was born from a single structure: a railway station . When the railway line connecting Addis Ababa to Djibouti was constructed, a station was built at this location, and the settlement began to grow around it. The train brought commerce, commerce brought people, and people brought a city into being.
In the 1940s, a massive wave of development transformed the settlement. An Armenian businessman named Armank Bagadsoniya built many of the city’s early shops and markets . He left a lasting mark on the city’s commercial landscape. When Bagadsoniya died without children, his wealth and property passed to his wife, Almaz Abboye . It was a small story of love and legacy in a city that was rapidly changing.
The Forced Change to Nazareth
The transformation of Adaamaa into Nazareth was not a natural evolution—it was a deliberate act of political will. Dejazmach Sahlu Difaye, the governor of the city at the time, was the one who first erected a sign reading “Nazareth” in front of the railway station . The name was chosen, some say, to evoke the biblical city of Nazareth, aligning the growing settlement with Christian imagery and imperial ambition.
The renaming did not stop at the city itself. The oil company changed its name from “Kabanus” to “Nazareth Oil.” The American missionary school, the Abebe Andarge Hotel, the NAFC pasta factory—all adopted the new name . It was an effort to erase Adaamaa from the map, to rebrand a city that had been born of Oromo land and Oromo labor as something foreign.
Only the Akropool Palace Hotel stubbornly held onto its original name, a quiet act of resistance in a city that was being renamed piece by piece.
A City Under Administration
For decades, Adaamaa—now Nazareth—was administered under the Shawa Xeqlay Gizat (the Shewa province) . It became the capital of the Awrajaa Erer fi Karrayyuu (Erer and Karrayyuu District) . The name “Erer” represents the Torban Oboo Oromo, while “Karrayyuu” refers to the Karrayyuu Oromo . The district was further divided into the Bosat woreda (district), with Oolancitii serving as the woreda capital . This administrative structure, imposed from above, attempted to compartmentalize and control the Oromo people who had lived in these lands for centuries.
The Modern City
The city’s infrastructure grew with the times. The asphalt road connecting Adaamaa to Finfinnee (Addis Ababa) was constructed in 1963 G.C. , linking the city more closely to the capital. The city’s internal asphalt roads were completed in 1964 G.C. , paving the way for modernization.
Yet even as the roads were paved and the signs were changed, the memory of Adaamaa persisted. It survived in the songs of the elders, in the poems passed down through generations, and in the hearts of a people who refused to let their history be erased.
Adaamaa Today
Today, the city is officially known as Adama (the modernized spelling of Adaamaa) in government documents, though many still call it Nazareth in everyday speech. It has grown into one of Ethiopia’s largest cities, a bustling hub of commerce, education, and industry. But beneath the surface, the old tensions remain.
The story of Adaamaa is a story of names. Each name—Adaamaa, Nazareth, Didibbisa, Malkaa Hiddaa, Corree—represents a different layer of history, a different claim to the land. It is a testament to the enduring power of language and memory, and a reminder that a city is never just a city. It is a living archive of the people who built it, named it, and loved it.
As the Oromo elders said in their lament, “Adaamaa gurrarraan yaasee, yaasee” —Adaamaa rose from the darkness. And despite all attempts to rename it, Adaamaa still rises.
Sources: Local History of Ethiopia /Nazareth/ p-230, Nordic Africa Institute; Alemayehu Haile – Seenaa Oromoo Hanga Jaarraa 20ffaa – p-367; Journal of Ethiopia – 1966 – No-2 – pp-362-373.
The Lion’s Roar: How Wasanuu Didoo Carried Oromo Music Through Darkness to Light
By Daandii Ragabaa
In the shadowed years when speaking Afan Oromo was itself an act of resistance, a young man from the heart of Oromia picked up his father’s masenqo and began to sing. He did not know then that his voice would become the soundtrack of a people’s struggle, or that his songs would outlive the very darkness that sought to silence them.
His name is Wasanuu Didoo—and in the story of modern Oromo music, he is the lion who refused to be caged.
The Son of the Masenqo
To understand Wasanuu is to understand that music, for him, was never a choice. It was inheritance.
Born into a family where the masenqo—the traditional one-stringed fiddle of Oromo culture—was as familiar as breath, Wasanuu learned his art at the feet of his father, Didoo Booraa. In their household, the day did not begin without the plucking of strings, the rasp of the bow, the call-and-response that connected the living to the ancestors.
“When Wasanuu sang, Didoo played,” an elder once recalled. “The father and son were not two artists but one spirit divided between hands and voice.”
The music they made together was not for fame or fortune. It was for something far more ancient: the preservation of a people’s soul.
Singing Through the Long Night
The era in which Wasanuu rose to prominence was one of profound hardship. These were the dark years when Afan Oromo was suppressed, when cultural expression was monitored, when even a song could be interpreted as sedition.
But Wasanuu Didoo did something unprecedented.
He was among the first to take Oromo music and arrange it for ensemble performance—transforming the solitary sound of the masenqo into something that could fill concert halls and rally crowds. He brought Oromo melody to the stage at a time when such visibility was dangerous, and he did so with a courage that earned him the title of pioneer.
“Before Wasanuu, Oromo music was something you heard in villages, in homes, in secret gatherings,” writes music historian Tilahun Gemeda. “He was the bridge that carried it into the public sphere, into the consciousness of the nation.”
The Songs That Would Not Die
Many of Wasanuu’s compositions from that era remain unmatched in their resonance. Two in particular stand as monuments to his vision.
“Alam mangistaata bira deemna” (“We Walk Alongside the System”) and “Maasaan gamaa lafa hinbaatu” (“The Dance Floor Does Not Touch the Ground”) were not merely songs—they were coded messages, poetic declarations that navigated the narrow straits between expression and survival.
His lyrics are layered with xiiqii—the Oromo tradition of poetic irony and metaphor that says one thing while meaning another. To the uninitiated, his words might seem simple. To those who understood, they were revolutionary.
A verse from one of his most famous compositions captures this perfectly:
“Sangaa oofaa jennaan, oofnee baane Shaggariinii
Kaan shaniin bitata, kuun shantamaan bita gariini
Yaa alaamaa qawwee, taa’an tola Labaniinii
Labaniin ni iyyaa, maarree yoo du’e jabaan gaafa biyyaa”
Roughly translated:
“They said drive the ox, and we drove them out, Shaggarii
Others buy with eight, this one buys with five and a half
O sign of the spear, sit well with Labanii
Labanii cries out, but if the strong man dies, the day belongs to the nation”
To sing of Labaniin—one of the legendary Oromo warriors—was to remind the people that resistance did not die with one generation. When the father falls, the son must rise. When one voice is silenced, a hundred more must take up the cry.
The Wellspring of Tradition
Wasanuu Didoo is often described as the foundation stone of Oromo art—the bu’uura from which all else flows.
His innovation did not lie in invention but in reverence. He reached backward to pull forward, drawing from the deep well of Oromo oral tradition and reimagining it for a new age. His rhythms carried the pulse of the qeerroo; his melodies echoed the arsii; his lyrics breathed the philosophy of the gadaa system.
When he sang, he was not alone on that stage. His father’s spirit sang with him. The ancestors sang with him. And the future—unborn and unshaped—sang through him as well.
The Spreading Light
From the household of Didoo Booraa, the fire spread.
The Oromo art movement that began in that modest home reached outward like water finding its level. It flowed to the Afran Qal’oo, to the great cities, to the diaspora. Artists who came after—many of whom owe their careers to the path Wasanuu cleared—remember him as the one who opened the door.
“Wasanuu Didoo is the gateway,” says contemporary Oromo musician Ali Birra, himself a legend in his own right. “He was the one who made it possible for us to dream.”
Indeed, Ali Birra would follow in Wasanuu’s footsteps, carrying the tradition even further, but he would be the first to acknowledge that without Wasanuu’s pioneering work, the road might never have been paved.
The Echo That Remains
Today, the songs of Wasanuu Didoo continue to be performed. They are played on radio stations in Addis Ababa and in cafes in Minneapolis. They are sung by grandmothers in rural villages and by university students in global capitals.
The world has changed since those dark years. Afan Oromo is now spoken freely, broadcast widely, celebrated publicly. But the music of Wasanuu Didoo does not feel like a historical artifact. It feels alive—because it was never really about the time in which it was composed.
It was about something timeless.
His lyrics, with their layered meanings and poetic resilience, speak to any generation facing oppression. His rhythms, rooted in the earth of Oromia, connect people across distances and decades. And his example—an artist who chose courage over comfort, purpose over safety—continues to inspire those who pick up instruments or lift their voices in the name of cultural preservation.
The Lion’s Legacy
They called him the lion—and for good reason. Like the leenca of the Oromo highlands, Wasanuu Didoo was both powerful and protective. He did not roar for himself. He roared for his people.
He carried a culture on his shoulders when no one else would. He sang songs that could have been his downfall. He looked into the darkness and found the courage to sing anyway.
In the annals of Oromo art, many names will be written. But at the very beginning—at the source, at the kallacha from which the river flows—there is one name that cannot be erased.
Wasanuu Didoo. The pioneer. The foundation. The lion who roared, and in roaring, set a people free.
“His strings are the fabric of freedom. His words are woven with irony and depth. And that irony—that xiiqii—it carries you, it holds you, it makes you feel something beyond yourself.”
— An Oromo elder reflecting on the music of Wasanuu Didoo
Author’s Note: Wasanuu Didoo’s contributions to Oromo music and culture remain largely undocumented in mainstream historical accounts, but among the Oromo people, his legacy is preserved in the songs that continue to be passed from generation to generation. This feature story draws from oral histories, musical scholarship, and the enduring presence of his work in contemporary Oromo cultural life.
The Written Word: The Story of Afaan Oromoo’s Journey to Script
For centuries, Afaan Oromoo existed as a purely oral language—spoken by millions across the Horn of Africa, yet never written down in any systematic way. Stories, poems, history, and knowledge were passed from generation to generation through speech alone. Today, that has changed dramatically. The story of how Afaan Oromoo gained a writing system is not merely a linguistic tale—it is a story of resistance, identity, and cultural survival.
The Spoken Foundation
Before any script was ever applied to Afaan Oromoo, the language thrived through an rich oral tradition. Literature existed in the form of tales, poems, songs, epics, riddles, proverbs, and lullabies. These oral works served a vital purpose: they socialized Oromo youth into ethically committed and morally strong individuals, teaching what was good and evil, destructive and constructive. The language was the vessel for Oromo identity, a storehouse of values, myths, and collective experience.
This oral tradition would later prove crucial. When political forces attempted to suppress Afaan Oromoo and Oromo cultural identity, the grievances were articulated, recorded, and passed on vertically from generation to generation and horizontally across geographic areas through this oral literature. The language itself became an instrument of resistance.
The First Written Attempts (1840s)
The earliest known written documents in Afaan Oromoo date to the 1840s. They were the work of Johann Ludwig Krapf (1810–1881), a German missionary whose indefatigable endeavors left a lasting mark on languages across the Horn of Africa. Initially, Krapf used the Latin script to write Oromo, but he later shifted to the Ethiopic (Ge’ez) script.
Krapf’s work was foundational: he translated sections of the Bible into Afaan Oromoo and wrote its grammar. But this early flowering of Oromo writing was short-lived. After King Menilek annexed Oromo territories in the west, south, and southeast in the 1880s, the project was discontinued. The political winds had shifted against Oromo linguistic expression.
The Ge’ez Era: Onesimos Nasib’s Bible
The most significant contribution to Oromo writing in the Ge’ez script came from Onesimos Nasib (c. 1856–1931), an Oromo evangelist who was freed from slavery and educated by the Swedish Evangelical Mission. Nasib, whose birth name was Hika—meaning “Translator”—chose to use the Ge’ez alphabet, believing it would be better received by Ethiopia’s Coptic Orthodox priests than a Latin-based script.
His crowning achievement was the translation of the entire Bible into Afaan Oromoo, published in 1899. This was a monumental work that had a significant impact on introducing Oromo literacy. For decades, this Bible translation—along with the work of Aster Ganno and others—remained one of the few major published texts in the language.
Yet the Ge’ez script had limitations. It could not adequately represent certain Oromo sounds, particularly vowel length and consonant germination. The script, increasingly associated with Amharic dominance, also carried political baggage.
Indigenous Innovation: The Saphalo Script
In 1956, an Oromo scholar, poet, and religious teacher named Sheikh Bakri Sapalo (1895–1980) created his own writing system specifically designed for Oromo phonology. The Saphalo script—also known as Qubee Sheek Bakrii Saphaloo—was an abugida, like Ge’ez, but with no inherent vowels associated with consonants. It was, in many ways, more linguistically suited to Oromo than the scripts that preceded it.
The script gained acceptance in the Hararghe region of Ethiopia. But the Ethiopian government viewed it with suspicion, worrying it would make the Oromo self-aware and endanger national unity. In 1965, Sheikh Bakri Sapalo was placed under house arrest. He later fled to Somalia in 1978 and died in a refugee camp in 1980, his writings largely unpublished. The Saphalo script remains one of the few scripts so closely associated with a single individual—and one that met such a tragic end.
The Struggle Intensifies
Writing Afaan Oromoo in any script was banned under the government of Haile Selassie. This suppression only intensified Oromo determination. The struggle to write in Afaan Oromoo became inseparable from the broader Oromo national struggle.
During the Italian occupation (1936–1941), the Oromo experienced a brief period of linguistic freedom, as the Italians used Afaan Oromoo for education, broadcasting, and official activities. This taste of cultural freedom made the Oromo pose serious resistance against the restoration of Haile Selassie’s rule. The Harar and Bale uprisings, the Maccaa-Tuulamaa Association, the Afran Qalloo Cultural Movement—all emerged from the imposed language policies and gradually consolidated Oromo consciousness.
The Birth of Qubee
The search for an appropriate alphabet intensified in 1968, when Oromo students in Europe began the work. In 1972, an Oromo students’ study group formally adopted the Latin-based alphabet that would come to be known as Qubee. The Oromo Liberation Front (OLF) began using Qubee for communication and literacy work in the late 1970s, both at its bases and among Oromo refugees in neighboring countries.
The decisive moment came on November 3, 1991. The OLF convened a meeting of over 1,000 Oromo intellectuals to decide which alphabet to use for writing Oromo. After many hours of debate, they decided unanimously to adopt the Latin alphabet. The choice was conscious and political: the Ethiopic script was seen as the colonial script of the Amharic people, while the Latin script was not felt to be the colonial script of the Anglo-American world. Global functional considerations also played a role: the Latin alphabet was better suited to computer technology, more pedagogically accessible, and more linguistically adequate for representing Oromo sounds.
Qubee was formally adopted as the official orthography of Afaan Oromoo in 1991. For the first time, the language spoken by approximately 40 percent of Ethiopia’s population—more than 40 million people—had an officially recognized writing system.
A Literary Renaissance
The impact was immediate and profound. It is believed that more texts were written in the Oromo language between 1991 and 1997 than in the previous 100 years. Schools in Oromia began teaching in Afaan Oromoo. Oromo communities in the diaspora gained a standardized way to write their language. Literature flourished.
Today, Qubee consists of 33 fundamental letters: 5 vowels and 24 consonants, with additional combined consonant letters like CH, DH, NY, PH, SH, TS, and ZH. The alphabet has been adapted for modern use, including educational apps like “Qubee Kids” that teach children the letters through interactive games.
Challenges and Controversies
The adoption of Qubee has not been without controversy. Proponents of the Ge’ez script argue that its use would unite Ethiopians and that using other scripts threatens national unity. Some have actively petitioned regional governments to replace Qubee with the Ge’ez script.
Supporters of Qubee counter that the opposition is not based on linguistic analysis or technical considerations, but on subjective political grounds. They point to Qubee’s linguistic suitability, pedagogical ease, and adaptability to technology. The Latin-based alphabet, they argue, better represents Oromo sounds—showing vowel length, marking consonant germination, and adequately representing all Oromo phonemes.
Looking Forward
The story of Afaan Oromoo’s writing system is far from over. It is a living narrative of a people’s determination to see their language written, read, and preserved. From the oral traditions that sustained Oromo identity for centuries, through the missionary translations of the 1840s, the monumental Bible of Onesimos Nasib, the indigenous innovation of Sheikh Bakri Sapalo, and finally the political decision for Qubee in 1991—each chapter reflects the broader struggle for cultural survival and self-determination.
Today, Afaan Oromoo thrives in written form as never before. But challenges remain: internal debates about orthography, external political pressures, and the ongoing work of developing literature, educational materials, and digital resources. The language that was once officially unwritten now has a script that carries the hopes, history, and identity of millions.
As the Oromo saying goes: *”Afaan keenya, aadaa keenya”—our language, our culture. In the written word of Afaan Oromoo, that culture has found a new and enduring voice.
The Voice of Freedom: How Sagaleen Bilisummaa Oromoo Amplifies the Oromo Struggle
By Daandii Ragabaa
In the vast and complex landscape of the Oromo liberation movement, few tools are as powerful as the human voice. But when that voice is broadcast—amplified, repeated, and carried across borders, across battlefields, and across generations—it becomes something more than sound. It becomes a weapon. It becomes a comfort. It becomes a call to awaken.
This is the enduring role of Sagaleen Bilisummaa Oromoo (The Voice of Oromo Freedom).
For decades, this media platform has served as one of the most vital organs of the Oromo liberation struggle. Whether through radio waves that cross national boundaries, through digital content that reaches the global diaspora, or through the whispered sharing of cassette tapes in the dark years of repression, Sagaleen Bilisummaa Oromoo has been a constant companion to the Oromo people in their long march toward self-determination.
Strengthening the Struggle
The primary mission of Sagaleen Bilisummaa Oromoo has always been clear: to strengthen the Oromo liberation struggle.
In practical terms, this means providing a platform for the Oromo Liberation Front (ABO) and other Oromo political and civic actors to communicate directly with the Oromo people, without the filtering, distortion, or outright censorship that characterizes state-controlled media. It means broadcasting news from the frontlines, whether those frontlines are military, political, or cultural.
In the armed struggle years, Sagaleen Bilisummaa Oromoo was often the only source of information about the progress of Oromo fighters, the atrocities committed against civilians, and the diplomatic efforts being made on behalf of the Oromo cause. Families separated by war and exile could listen to the same broadcast and know that they were not alone.
Even in periods of relative peace and political openness, the Voice of Oromo Freedom continues to play this role. It holds the movement accountable. It debates strategy. It remembers martyrs. It celebrates victories, however small.
Awakening the Oromo People
But strengthening the struggle is only part of the mission. Sagaleen Bilisummaa Oromoo also exists to awaken the Oromo people—to dammaqsuu.
This awakening is both political and psychological. For generations, the Oromo people were told that their language was not fit for official use, that their history began with conquest, and that their identity was a threat to Ethiopian unity. This systematic campaign of erasure created a people who, in many cases, had internalized their own marginalization.
Sagaleen Bilisummaa Oromoo works to reverse this damage. It broadcasts Oromo poetry that stirs the soul. It tells Oromo history that textbooks omit. It gives voice to Oromo scholars, artists, and activists who articulate a vision of Oromo dignity and self-respect.
To listen to Sagaleen Bilisummaa Oromoo is to hear a different narrative—one in which the Oromo are not victims of history but agents of their own destiny. This is not propaganda. This is the restoration of a truth that has been deliberately suppressed.
When an Oromo farmer in a remote village hears his language spoken with authority and respect on the radio, something shifts inside him. When an Oromo student in the diaspora hears the names of Oromo heroes recited alongside the great liberators of the world, she understands that her people belong in the company of nations. This is awakening.
Proclaiming the Goal of Freedom
Finally, Sagaleen Bilisummaa Oromoo serves as a constant reminder of the ultimate objective: Kaayyoo Bilisummaa Oromoo—the goal of Oromo freedom.
The Oromo struggle has, at different times, been characterized in different ways. Some have framed it as a demand for human rights within a united Ethiopia. Others have articulated it as a quest for self-determination up to and including secession. Still others have focused on cultural and linguistic rights, economic justice, or political representation.
Through all these variations, Sagaleen Bilisummaa Oromoo has consistently held the line on the fundamental principle: the Oromo people have the right to be free. What that freedom looks like—whether a federal arrangement, a confederation, or an independent Oromo state—is a matter of political discussion. But the right itself is non-negotiable.
By consistently broadcasting this message, the Voice of Oromo Freedom ensures that the goal is never forgotten. In periods of political co-optation, when Oromo elites are tempted to trade long-term freedom for short-term positions, Sagaleen Bilisummaa Oromoo reminds listeners of the martyrs who died for the cause. In periods of despair, when the struggle seems endless and victory distant, it reminds listeners that freedom is not a gift to be requested but a right to be claimed.
The Evolution of the Voice
Sagaleen Bilisummaa Oromoo has not remained static. Like the struggle it serves, it has evolved with the times.
In the early decades, the Voice often operated clandestinely, broadcasting from neighboring countries, using makeshift equipment, and reaching audiences through shortwave radio. The signal could be weak. The hours were limited. The risk of jamming or retaliation was constant.
But the audience was loyal. Oromo families would gather around radios at specific times, turning the volume low to avoid detection, listening to every word. The Voice was a lifeline.
Today, Sagaleen Bilisummaa Oromoo has expanded into digital platforms. It reaches the global Oromo diaspora through social media, streaming services, and websites. Young Oromo who have never used a shortwave radio can access the same content on their smartphones. The technology has changed, but the mission remains.
Challenges and Resilience
Operating as a voice of liberation is never easy. Sagaleen Bilisummaa Oromoo has faced jamming, legal harassment, and political pressure from successive Ethiopian governments. Its journalists and broadcasters have been targeted. Its infrastructure has been attacked.
Yet, like the Oromo people themselves, the Voice endures.
Each time the signal is blocked, it finds a new frequency. Each time a broadcaster is silenced, another steps forward. The resilience of Sagaleen Bilisummaa Oromoo is a testament to the depth of the Oromo people’s commitment to their own liberation.
A Call to Listen
For those who are already part of the Oromo struggle, Sagaleen Bilisummaa Oromoo needs no introduction. It is a familiar companion, a trusted source, a rallying cry.
But for the younger generation—those who have grown up in the diaspora, those who have been disconnected from Oromo language and culture, those who are only beginning to understand the meaning of Oromummaa—the Voice of Oromo Freedom is an essential resource.
To listen is to learn. To learn is to understand. And to understand is to join the struggle, whether through political activism, cultural preservation, or simply the determination to live with dignity and pride.
Conclusion
Sagaleen Bilisummaa Oromoo is more than a radio station, more than a website, more than a collection of broadcasts. It is a living institution of the Oromo liberation movement. It is a witness to history. It is a voice that refuses to be silenced.
As the Oromo people continue their long journey toward freedom, the Voice will be there—broadcasting the news, awakening the consciousness, and proclaiming the goal.
Sagaleen Bilisummaa Oromoo – the voice that will not be stilled.
Daandii Ragabaa, reporting on Oromo liberation media.
Sagaleen Bilisummaa Oromoo: Qabsoo humneessuu, Ummata dammaqsuu, Kaayyoo beeksisuu.
(The Voice of Oromo Freedom: Strengthening the struggle, awakening the people, proclaiming the goal.)
The Voice That Would Not Be Silenced: How Sagalee Bilisummaa Oromoo Strengthened a Nation’s Liberation Struggle
The year is 1988.
Across the vast highlands of Oromia, state radio broadcasts only the official narrative in Amharic. Afaan Oromo—the mother tongue of Africa’s largest stateless nation—is banned from schools, courts, and airwaves. To speak it publicly is to invite suspicion. To seek liberation is to risk death.
But on June 15 of that year, a faint signal crackles through the static. It speaks in the forbidden language. It carries news the regime does not want heard. It names names, gives dates, and whispers hope.
The voice belongs to Sagalee Bilisummaa Oromoo (SBO)—the Voice of Oromo Liberation.
For 38 years—from 1988 to 2026—that voice has done what armies alone cannot. It has strengthened the Oromo liberation struggle, mobilized a scattered nation, and spread the goals of freedom across borders and generations.
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I. Strengthening the Struggle: ‘More Than a Quarter-Century of Contribution’
In May 2023, as the Oromo Liberation Front (OLF) prepared to mark the 35th anniversary of SBO’s founding, the party issued a statement that captured the radio’s essential role. “Launched on June 15th 1988, SBO/VOL has been contributing a lot in the long journey of Oromo struggle for freedom,” the OLF said, “despite several relentless attempts of the enemy to quit the media”.
That phrase—“despite several relentless attempts”—is not rhetorical. Over nearly four decades, successive Ethiopian regimes have tried to jam SBO’s shortwave frequencies, block its diaspora websites, and intimidate its journalists. In 2013, on World Press Freedom Day, observers noted that “Afan Oromo shortwave radios, such as VOA and SBO…are under constant threat of jamming by the Ethiopian regime”. Countless Oromo journalists have been harassed, imprisoned, or exiled. Independent Oromo newspapers were closed down. But SBO endured.
Why? Because in a country where “internet is rare, satellite communication is unthinkable, TV is a luxury and FM is unknown, a shortwave radio still remains the only and an effective media outlet”. For rural Oromo families without electricity or cell service, the crackling voice from abroad was the only window onto a world where their language and their liberation mattered.
Senior SBO journalist Obbo Tolera Adaba, who has served the station since its inception, put it simply: “In a liberation struggle, media is alpha and omega”. Without information, there is no strategy. Without analysis, there is no direction. Without a voice, there is no nation.
File: Miseensota SBO garii waliin bara 25/12/2016 keessa, Asmaraa
II. Mobilizing the People: Informing, Organizing, Inspiring
The OLF’s anniversary statement identified three interconnected functions that SBO has performed for nearly four decades. The station’s “quarter-a-century contribution,” the party said, has been in “informing, organizing and inspiring the Oromo nation for the struggle to self-determination”.
Informing: SBO broke the state’s information monopoly. It reported massacres, land seizures, political arrests, and the realities of military occupation that Ethiopian media ignored. It gave Oromo listeners facts their own government denied them.
Organizing: The radio broadcast practical information—meeting times, protest calls, strategies for resistance. It explained OLF’s political program, its vision for self-determination, and the legal and historical arguments underpinning Oromo nationhood. In a society denied political education, SBO became an open university.
Inspiring: Perhaps most crucially, SBO normalized Afaan Oromo as a language of serious political discourse. It broadcast Oromo poetry, music, and oral traditions. It reminded listeners that their identity was not a shameful secret but a proud inheritance. For countless Oromo families, tuning into SBO was an act of quiet rebellion—a refusal to accept erasure.
One grandson’s memory captures this intimacy. In a 2014 essay, an Oromo writer recalled how his grandfather “had a habit of making the entire family tune into his favorite radio station: The Voice of Oromo Liberation”. The grandfather would crank up the volume, urging his children and grandchildren to learn Afaan Oromo. The station broadcast daily in both Afan Oromo and Amharic“>. “Despite living in Finfinne most of his life,” the grandson wrote, “he never lost touch with his Oromo heritage”. SBO was the thread connecting him to a nation that official Ethiopia pretended did not exist.
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III. Spreading the Goals of Oromo Liberation: A Blueprint for Freedom
SBO has never been merely a news service. From its inception, it has served as the official media organ of the Oromo Liberation Front, and its broadcasts have consistently advanced the core goals of Oromo self-determination.
What are those goals? As articulated by the OLF over decades, they include: the right of the Oromo people to political self-determination; the recognition of Afaan Oromo as a language of governance and education; the protection of Oromo cultural and historical sites; and the establishment of a democratic system that reflects Oromo values—values the Gadaa system has embodied for centuries.
SBO has spread these goals through:
– Political education: Explaining the legal and moral case for self-determination under international law.
– Historical recovery: Broadcasting Oromo history as Oromo historians write it, not as imperial chronicles distorted it.
– Cultural affirmation: Playing Oromo music, poetry, and oral traditions that state media ignored.
– Call to action: Announcing protests, mobilizing diaspora support, and coordinating with liberation forces on the ground.
In 2023, the OLF called SBO’s upcoming anniversary “a historical event with our people in Oromia and around the world”. The party thanked “those who have made unforgettable contributions to keep SBO staying on air to this very day” and called on supporters to donate, share ideas, and keep the radio alive.
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IV. The Unfinished Work: A Voice Still Needed
Today, as SBO marks its 38th anniversary on June 15, 2026, the struggle is not over.
The Ethiopian state has undergone significant political changes since 2018, including the rise of Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed and a partial opening of political space. Some exiled media have returned. Some Oromo political prisoners have been released. But the fundamental question of Oromo self-determination remains unresolved. Independent Oromo media still cannot operate freely inside Oromia“>. And SBO continues to broadcast from abroad—six days a week, on shortwave and digital platforms, paid for by Oromos and friends of the Oromo people“>.
The station’s mission, as articulated in its founding charter, remains unchanged: “to promote awareness in peace and democracy, disseminate knowledge in elementary health care, environmental protection, and gender equality, and broadcast information on improved methods in agriculture, animal husbandry and rural development”. But beneath those practical goals lies a deeper purpose: to keep alive the idea that the Oromo people deserve to govern themselves, in their own language, under their own laws.
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Conclusion: ‘Alpha and Omega’
On June 15, 2026, somewhere in the Oromo diaspora—in Minneapolis, in Toronto, in Berlin, in Nairobi—a grandfather will turn on his shortwave radio. He will crank up the volume. His grandchildren will roll their eyes. But the voice will come through, crackling and defiant, the same voice that has spoken for 38 years.
That voice has strengthened the liberation struggle when armies faltered. It has mobilized a scattered people into a political nation. And it has spread the goals of Oromo freedom across generations and continents.
In a liberation struggle, as Obbo Tolera Adaba said, media is alpha and omega—the beginning and the end. For the Oromo people, Sagalee Bilisummaa Oromoo has been both.
Baga Guyyaa SBO 38ffaa isin gahe! Congratulations on the 38th anniversary.
— Adda Bilisummaa Oromoo (ABO)
June 15, 2026
Finfinnee
Understanding the Gadaa System: Peaceful Power Transfer in Oromo Culture
By Daandii Ragabaa
WAXABAJJII 07, 2018 E.C. (June 2026 G.C.) – The cycle has turned. The baton has passed. A new chapter in the centuries-old democracy of the Oromo people has begun.
Today, at the sacred site of Ardaa Jilaa Dhaka Koraatti, the Walharkaa Fuudhinsa Alangee – the formal transfer of the Baallii (ceremonial baton of office) – was conducted for the 71st cycle of the Tuulama Gadaa. Power moved peacefully from the Gadaa Meelbaa grade to the Gadaa Muudanaa grade.
And at the heart of this ceremony stood one man: Abbaa Gadaa Geetuu Taliilaa Tufaa, who received the Alangee and was inaugurated as the new Abbaa Gadaa of the Tuulama Oromo.
The Sacred Transfer
The Gadaa system, recognized by UNESCO as an Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity, operates on an eight-year cycle. Each cycle has a name, a purpose, and a set of leaders who carry the responsibilities of governance, conflict resolution, ritual observance, and community welfare.
The 70th cycle, Gadaa Meelbaa, has now completed its term. The 71st cycle, Gadaa Muudanaa, has begun. And with this transition, the Alangee – the symbol of legitimate authority – has been placed into the hands of a new leader.
The ceremony at Ardaa Jilaa Dhaka Koraatti was not a political rally. There were no speeches attacking opponents, no promises that would be broken tomorrow, no expensive campaigns or negative advertisements. There was only ritual, tradition, blessing, and the quiet, solemn transfer of a baton that represents the collective will of the Tuulama Oromo.
Elders presided. The community witnessed. The Caffee assembly gave its consent. And Abbaa Gadaa Geetuu Taliilaa Tufaa stepped into his role – not as a conqueror, but as a servant. Not as a king, but as a caretaker.
Who Is Abbaa Gadaa Geetuu Taliilaa Tufaa?
Little is known by the wider public about the new Abbaa Gadaa. This is not unusual. The Gadaa system does not produce celebrities. It produces leaders who are chosen not for their charisma or their wealth but for their wisdom, their integrity, and their commitment to the community.
Abbaa Gadaa Geetuu Taliilaa Tufaa emerges from within the Gadaa Muudanaa grade – a cohort of men who have been preparing for leadership for years, even decades. The Gadaa system does not allow anyone to simply declare themselves a leader. One must be born into a Gadaa grade, grow through its ranks, learn its laws, participate in its rituals, and be recognized by elders and community members as ready to lead.
The new Abbaa Gadaa has now received the Alangee. He has been blessed. He has been installed. And for the next eight years, he will carry the weight of the Tuulama Oromo on his shoulders.
The Significance of the 71st Cycle
Why does the 71st cycle matter? Why should anyone outside the Gadaa system care about the transfer of the Alangee?
The answer is simple: because the Gadaa system represents an alternative – a different way of organizing political life that does not depend on elections, parties, or constitutions. It depends on tradition, consensus, and the moral authority of elders.
In a world where democracy is in crisis – where trust in elections is collapsing, where leaders refuse to leave office, where political violence is normalized – the Gadaa system offers lessons. It shows that it is possible to transfer power peacefully. It shows that term limits can be respected without constitutional debates. It shows that leadership can be a burden to be carried, not a prize to be seized.
The 71st cycle of the Tuulama Gadaa begins at a moment of great challenge for the Oromo people. Displacement continues. Political repression persists. Economic hardships weigh heavily on ordinary families. The youth, the Qeerroo and Qarree, are restless. The diaspora watches from afar, hoping for change.
Abbaa Gadaa Geetuu Taliilaa Tufaa inherits all of this. His Alangee is not just a symbol of authority. It is a symbol of responsibility. He will be expected to mediate disputes, to speak for his people, to preserve the Safuu (moral code), and to ensure that the Gadaa cycle continues when his eight years are complete.
Ardaa Jilaa Dhaka Koraatti: The Sacred Ground
The ceremony took place at Ardaa Jilaa Dhaka Koraatti, a site of profound spiritual and political importance for the Tuulama Oromo. It is here that the Gadaa grades gather, that the Baallii is transferred, and that the community reaffirms its commitment to the Gadaa way of life.
To stand at Dhaka Koraatti is to stand on ground that has witnessed centuries of Oromo democracy. The same rituals performed today were performed by the 1st Abbaa Gadaa, and the 20th, and the 50th. The continuity is not broken. The cycle has never stopped – not during the expansion of the Ethiopian empire, not during the Derg years, not during the periods of greatest repression.
The Gadaa system survived because it is not a building that can be destroyed or a law that can be repealed. It is a living tradition, passed from father to son, from elder to youth, from grade to grade. And today, at Dhaka Koraatti, it survived again.
The Role of the New Abbaa Gadaa
What will Abbaa Gadaa Geetuu Taliilaa Tufaa do with his eight years?
He will preside over the Caffee assembly, where community decisions are made by consensus. He will mediate disputes – between families, between clans, between individuals – using Seera (customary law) and Safuu (moral principle). He will lead rituals, including the annual Irreecha thanksgiving ceremonies. He will represent the Tuulama Oromo in relations with other Gadaa groups – the Borana, the Gujii, the Karrayyuu, the Arsi, and others. He will ensure that the next grade, Gadaa [the following cycle], is properly trained and prepared to receive the Alangee when his term ends.
He will not have a palace. He will not have a salary. He will not have a security detail. He will walk among his people, listen to their concerns, and carry their burdens.
This is what the Gadaa system demands. This is what the Alangee represents.
The Meaning of “Alangee”
The word Alangee refers to the ceremonial baton or sceptre that symbolizes legitimate authority within the Gadaa system. It is not a weapon. It is not a scepter of domination. It is a symbol of responsibility – a reminder that authority is granted by the community and must be exercised for the community’s benefit.
When Abbaa Gadaa Geetuu Taliilaa Tufaa received the Alangee today, he did not receive a license to command. He received a charge to serve. The Alangee will accompany him to Caffee assemblies, to ritual ceremonies, and to community gatherings. And when his eight years are complete, he will pass it – peacefully, ceremonially, joyfully – to the next Abbaa Gadaa.
That is the Gadaa way. That is the Oromo way. That is the way of a people who understood democracy long before the word was invented.
Tagany Bafiqaadu: The Reporter
This report was brought to us by Tagany Bafiqaadu of AMN PLUS. Journalists who cover Gadaa ceremonies occupy a unique position – they are not merely observers but also participants in the preservation of Oromo heritage. Tagany’s presence at Ardaa Jilaa Dhaka Koraatti ensured that this moment was documented, that the names were recorded, and that the story will be told to future generations.
In an era of digital media and instant news, the Gadaa system might seem anachronistic. But as Tagany’s reporting reminds us, there is nothing outdated about peaceful transitions of power, community-based governance, and leaders who serve rather than rule.
Looking Ahead: Eight Years of Gadaa Muudanaa
The Gadaa Muudanaa cycle now begins. For the next eight years, Abbaa Gadaa Geetuu Taliilaa Tufaa will lead the Tuulama Oromo. He will face challenges – some predictable, some unimaginable. He will make decisions that will be debated and discussed. He will be praised by some and criticized by others.
But he will not be overthrown. He will not be assassinated. He will not cling to power when his term ends. When the eight years are complete, he will hand the Alangee to the next Abbaa Gadaa and step back into the community as an elder, watching as the cycle turns without him.
That is the promise of the Gadaa system. That is the guarantee written not in a constitution but in the hearts and minds of the Oromo people.
A Final Reflection
Today, at Ardaa Jilaa Dhaka Koraatti, the Walharkaa Fuudhinsa Alangee was conducted. The 70th cycle, Gadaa Meelbaa, stepped aside. The 71st cycle, Gadaa Muudanaa, stepped forward. And Abbaa Gadaa Geetuu Taliilaa Tufaa received the Alangee and became the new Abbaa Gadaa of the Tuulama Oromo.
It was a quiet ceremony, witnessed by those who understand its meaning. There were no television cameras broadcasting live to the world. There were no world leaders sending congratulations. There was only the community, the elders, the sacred ground, and the Alangee passing from one hand to another.
But sometimes the quietest ceremonies are the most profound. Sometimes the traditions that receive the least attention are the ones that matter most.
The Gadaa cycle has turned. The 71st Abbaa Gadaa has been installed. And the Oromo people, as they have for centuries, continue to govern themselves in their own way, on their own terms, under their own sacred trees.
Gadaatu Fala. The cycle continues. The Alangee is in good hands.
Daandii Ragabaa
Finfinne
Report Source: AMN PLUS, Waxabajjii 07, 2018 E.C.
Reporter: Tagany Bafiqaadu
Location: Ardaa Jilaa Dhaka Koraatti
Event: Walharkaa Fuudhinsa Alangee Gadaa Tuulamaa (71st Gadaa Cycle Transfer from Gadaa Meelbaa to Gadaa Muudanaa)
New Abbaa Gadaa: Abbaa Gadaa Geetuu Taliilaa Tufaa
Meeting the Abbaa Gadaa: A Portrait of Continuity and Change
By Daandii Ragabaa
FINFINNE – They stand together in a single frame — three men, three generations of leadership, three keepers of a cycle that has turned for centuries. The photograph captures them shoulder to shoulder, not as rivals or predecessors, but as custodians of the same sacred trust.
On the left, Abbaa Gadaa Naggasaa Nagawoo of the Gadaa Roobalee. In the center, Abbaa Gadaa Bayyanaa Sanbatoo of the Gadaa Birmajii. On the right, Abbaa Gadaa Goobana Hoolaa of the Gadaa Meelbaa.
They are the 68th, 69th, and 70th Abbaa Gadaa of the Tuulama Oromo. Their photograph is not merely a portrait. It is a visual document of continuity, of peaceful transition, and of a democratic tradition that has endured for longer than most nations on earth.
The Gadaa Cycle: A Living Democracy
To understand the significance of this photograph, one must first understand the Gadaa system itself. Recognized by UNESCO as an Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity, the Gadaa system is an indigenous governance framework that has regulated the political, social, economic, and ritual life of the Oromo people for generations.
Every eight years, power cycles peacefully from one Gadaa grade to the next. The Abbaa Gadaa — the father or leader of the Gadaa — serves as the highest authority during his term, presiding over the Caffee assembly, mediating disputes, leading rituals, and ensuring that the laws of Seera and the moral code of Safuu are upheld.
At the end of eight years, he does not cling to power. He does not manipulate the constitution to extend his term. He does not imprison his opponents. He steps down. He hands the Baallii — the ceremonial baton symbolizing authority — to the next grade. And he becomes an elder advisor, watching as the cycle turns without him.
This photograph captures three such leaders at a rare moment of convergence: the 68th, the 69th, and the 70th Abbaa Gadaa of the Tuulama Oromo, standing together in a single frame.
Abbaa Gadaa Naggasaa Nagawoo – Gadaa Roobalee (68th)
Abbaa Gadaa Naggasaa Nagawoo led during the Gadaa Roobalee cycle. His tenure, like all Gadaa terms, lasted eight years — a period that coincided with significant challenges and transformations for the Tuulama Oromo.
Those who knew him speak of an Abbaa Gadaa who prioritized unity. The Tuulama, whose traditional territories encircle Finfinne (Addis Ababa), have long been at the crossroads of Ethiopian political life. Their proximity to the seat of imperial and state power brought both opportunities and vulnerabilities. Abbaa Gadaa Naggasaa worked to keep his people united in the face of pressures that sought to divide them.
His name, Nagawoo, carries echoes of Nagaa — peace, tranquility, well-being. It was not merely a name but a mission. During his term, he mediated disputes between clans, presided over Caffee assemblies that drew hundreds of participants, and ensured that the Gadaa calendar was observed with full ritual precision.
When his eight years concluded, he did what every Abbaa Gadaa before him had done: he stepped aside. He placed the Baallii into the hands of the next grade and became an advisor, watching as the cycle continued without him.
Abbaa Gadaa Bayyanaa Sanbatoo – Gadaa Birmajii (69th)
The baton passed to Abbaa Gadaa Bayyanaa Sanbatoo of the Gadaa Birmajii cycle. His term came at a moment when the Gadaa system itself was facing new pressures — modernization, urbanization, displacement, and the ongoing struggle for Oromo cultural and political rights.
Abbaa Gadaa Bayyanaa proved to be a steady hand. He understood that the Gadaa system could not survive if it remained frozen in the past. It had to adapt while preserving its core principles. Under his leadership, the Caffee assemblies began to incorporate new voices — including a greater role for women and youth, who had sometimes been marginalized in traditional structures.
He also worked to strengthen the connections between the Tuulama Gadaa and other Oromo communities — the Borana, the Gujii, the Karrayyuu, the Arsi, and others. The Gadaa system, he argued, was not the property of one clan or region. It was the heritage of all Oromo people, and it would survive only if it remained a living, breathing institution, not a museum piece.
When his term ended, he handed the Baallii to the next grade with the same grace with which he had received it. The cycle turned.
Abbaa Gadaa Goobana Hoolaa – Gadaa Meelbaa (70th)
Today, the Baallii rests in the hands of Abbaa Gadaa Goobana Hoolaa of the Gadaa Meelbaa cycle, the 70th Abbaa Gadaa of the Tuulama Oromo. He stands in the photograph as the current bearer of a tradition that stretches back centuries.
Abbaa Gadaa Goobana inherited a system that, despite its resilience, faces real challenges. Young people, educated in modern schools and absorbed by digital media, sometimes know less about Gadaa than their grandparents did. Migration to cities has scattered communities that once gathered regularly under Odaa trees. And the Ethiopian state, despite constitutional recognition of customary law, has not always made space for Gadaa institutions to operate freely.
Yet Abbaa Gadaa Goobana is not discouraged. He travels extensively, visiting Gadaa centers across Tuulama and beyond. He speaks to youth in language they understand, connecting the principles of Gadaa — consensus, term limits, accountability, community — to the democratic aspirations of the present generation. He works with scholars to document Gadaa laws and rituals. And he presides over Caffee assemblies where disputes are resolved not through courts and lawyers but through dialogue and consensus.
His photograph with his two predecessors is not just a formality. It is a statement. It says: The Gadaa lives. The cycle continues. The 68th handed to the 69th, who handed to the 70th. And when my time is done, I will hand to the 71st.
What the Photograph Captures
Look closely at the three men in the photograph. They are dressed differently — some in traditional Oromo attire, others in modern clothing. They stand at different angles. Their expressions vary — one smiling, one solemn, one in between.
But what unites them is visible to those who know what to look for. It is the quiet confidence of men who understand that they are not the center of the story. The Gadaa system is the center. They are merely its temporary servants.
The photograph captures:
- Continuity – Three leaders, one cycle. The 68th, 69th, and 70th Abbaa Gadaa standing together as living proof that the Gadaa system did not die with the past. It is alive, and it is here.
- Peaceful Transition – Unlike many political systems in Africa and beyond, where leaders cling to power until they are overthrown or die in office, the Gadaa system institutionalizes the transfer of authority. These three men did not fight each other. They did not imprison each other. They handed the baton and remained friends.
- Shared Purpose – Despite their different personalities and the different challenges they faced, all three share a common commitment: to preserve, protect, and promote the Gadaa system for future generations.
- Humanity – They are not icons on a pedestal. They are men — fathers, grandfathers, farmers, elders. They have known joy and sorrow, success and failure. And yet they carry a weight that few others can understand: the weight of a tradition that depends on them.
The Significance of the 68th, 69th, and 70th
Why does it matter that we can name the 68th, 69th, and 70th Abbaa Gadaa of the Tuulama Oromo? Why does it matter that we can see their faces, know their names, and trace the cycle through their terms?
It matters because indigenous systems are too often treated as timeless and unchanging — as if they exist outside of history. But the Gadaa system has a history. It has specific leaders who faced specific challenges at specific moments. The 68th Abbaa Gadaa was not the same as the 60th. The challenges of the Gadaa Birmajii cycle were not identical to those of the Gadaa Meelbaa cycle.
By naming these leaders and documenting their terms, we resist the temptation to treat Gadaa as folklore. We insist that it is real governance, with real leaders, real achievements, and real accountability.
The photograph of Abbaa Gadaa Naggasaa Nagawoo, Abbaa Gadaa Bayyanaa Sanbatoo, and Abbaa Gadaa Goobana Hoolaa — the 68th, 69th, and 70th — is a challenge to those who would dismiss indigenous systems as primitive. It says: Look. Here is democracy without elections. Here is accountability without constitutions. Here is term limits without term-limit debates. This is not primitive. This is sophisticated. This is Oromo.
The Future: The 71st and Beyond
As Abbaa Gadaa Goobana Hoolaa continues his term, preparations are already underway for the next transition. The Gadaa grade that will produce the 71st Abbaa Gadaa is already being trained. The young men who will one day lead are already learning the laws, the rituals, and the responsibilities.
The cycle does not stop. It cannot stop. Because the Gadaa system is not a building that can be destroyed. It is a river that flows. It can be diverted, blocked, or polluted — but it always finds a way back to its course.
When the 71st Abbaa Gadaa takes the Baallii, he will stand where Abbaa Gadaa Goobana now stands. And one day, perhaps, a photograph will be taken of the 70th, 71st, and 72nd standing together — a new generation of custodians, continuing the cycle.
A Final Reflection
The photograph of the 68th, 69th, and 70th Abbaa Gadaa of the Tuulama Oromo is a small image. It occupies a fraction of a page or a corner of a screen. But it contains a universe.
It contains the memory of centuries of Oromo self-governance. It contains the proof that democracy did not arrive in Ethiopia with the first multiparty election. It has been here all along, under Odaa trees, in Caffee assemblies, in the peaceful transfer of the Baallii from one hand to the next.
It contains a challenge to the present: Will we honor this legacy? Will we learn from it? Will we ensure that the 71st, 72nd, and 100th Abbaa Gadaa will have a system to lead?
And it contains a promise: As long as the Gadaa cycle turns, the Oromo people will remember who they are. They will remember that they had governance before colonization, democracy before occupation, and leaders who knew when to lead and when to step aside.
The 68th handed to the 69th. The 69th handed to the 70th. And when the time comes, the 70th will hand to the 71st. The cycle turns. The Gadaa lives. And the photograph remains.
*Daandii Ragabaa is a journalist based in Finfinne covering family stories, displacement, and the human dimensions of political history across Oromia and Ethiopia.
Captions for Reference:
| Position | Name | Gadaa Cycle | Order |
|---|---|---|---|
| Left | Abbaa Gadaa Naggasaa Nagawoo | Gadaa Roobalee | 68th |
| Center | Abbaa Gadaa Bayyanaa Sanbatoo | Gadaa Birmajii | 69th |
| Right | Abbaa Gadaa Goobana Hoolaa | Gadaa Meelbaa | 70th |
Pilgrimage of the Sadeen Tuulamaa: Honoring Oromo Heritage
By Daandii Ragabaa
Finfinne
EAST SHEWA ZONE, DUGDA DISTRICT – Under the open sky, across rivers and valleys, through cold nights and burning sun, they walk. They are not tourists. They are not travelers seeking leisure. They are the bearers of a tradition older than most nations — the living embodiment of the Gadaa system.
Members of the Gadaa Meelbaa and Muudanaa Dhaka Koraatti grades have embarked on a pilgrimage to the Gafarsa Korma River. Their mission: to participate in the Wal Harkaa Fuudhiinsa Alangee — the ceremonial transfer of the Baallii (the ritual baton/symbol of office) — a sacred process that marks the continuation of Oromo democracy in its purest form.
Accompanied by blessings and songs that have echoed through generations, the procession moves with purpose. At the riverside, they perform irreecha (thanksgiving prayers), asking for safe passage, for successful completion of their journey, and for the endurance of the Gadaa system itself.
A Journey of Devotion
These are not men traveling on government expense. There are no pre-booked hotels, no catered meals, no paid leave. They walk on foot. They sleep under the stars or in makeshift shelters. They endure the heat of the day and the biting cold of the night. And they do so willingly — joyfully — because the Gadaa calls.
“Those who travel for money or comfort miss the point,” said an elder accompanying the group, his weathered face illuminated by the morning light. “We travel because the Gadaa demands it. We walk because our fathers walked. We endure because our ancestors endured. This is not a journey. This is a covenant.”
The group, known as the Tuulamni Sadeen (The Three Pillars), has gathered at the Ardaa Jilaa Dhaka Koraatti — a sacred site within the Galaan district of the Shaggar City Administration. Here, under the direction of the Oromia Culture and Tourism Bureau, the Baallii transfer ceremony is being prepared.
What is the Gadaa System?
For those unfamiliar, the Gadaa system is one of the most sophisticated indigenous governance structures ever developed by any civilization on earth. Recognized by UNESCO as an Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity, the Gadaa system is not merely a political framework — it is a complete way of life.
Every eight years, power cycles peacefully from one Gadaa grade to the next. There are no coups. There are no civil wars over succession. There are no life presidents. The system ensures that leaders serve their time and then step aside — voluntarily, ceremonially, and peacefully.
The Gadaa system encompasses:
- Political governance (Siyaasa) – How leaders are chosen, how decisions are made, and how power is transferred
- Economic management (Dinagdee) – How resources are distributed and how communities sustain themselves
- Social organization (Hawaasummaa) – How families, clans, and communities interact and resolve conflicts
- Cultural identity (Eenyummaa) – How language, history, and traditions are preserved and transmitted
- Moral code (Safuu) – How individuals relate to each other, to nature, and to the divine
The Baallii Transfer: Democracy in Action
The Wal Harkaa Fuudhiinsa Baallii Gadaa — the formal transfer of the Baallii (often described as a ritual baton, sceptre, or symbol of office) — is the climax of the Gadaa cycle. It represents the peaceful transition of authority from one generation to the next.
The current ceremony, involving the Tuulamni Sadeen (the Three Pillars) at the Ardaa Jilaa Dhaka Koraatti site, follows a tradition that has continued uninterrupted for centuries. The pilgrimage began in the early days of the month of Waxabajjii (roughly corresponding to June/July), with participants traveling from various directions to converge at the sacred site.
“The Baallii is not just a stick,” explained one elder who wished to remain unnamed. “It is the weight of our ancestors. It is the hope of our children. It is the promise that power will not corrupt, because power will not stay. When I hand the Baallii to the next grade, I am not losing anything. I am completing something.”
A Living Heritage
Unlike many ancient traditions that exist only in museums or history books, the Gadaa system remains fully operational among Oromo communities across Ethiopia and beyond. From Borana to Gujii, from Karrayyuu to Arsi, from Wallaga to Hararge — the Gadaa lives.
During the past eight years — the full term of the current Gadaa grade — observers have witnessed the system in action. They have seen disputes resolved not in courts but under Odaa trees. They have seen resources managed not by bureaucrats but by community consensus. They have seen leaders rise, serve, and prepare to step down.
“The Gadaa system is not a relic,” said a cultural officer with the Oromia Culture and Tourism Bureau. “It is a functioning alternative to the top-down governance models that have failed so many societies. The world has much to learn from what the Oromo have practiced for centuries.”
Lessons for Today’s Generation
As the pilgrims continue their journey, they carry with them the words of their teachers. One such teacher is Dagalee Abdiisaa Haamoo Galmoo, an Abbaa Gadaa (Gadaa father/leader), who offers a proverb that captures the essence of the system:
“Wanti ofii ni barra yoo jedhan nama dararti; barre yoo jedhan nama harkaa bararti; ni dhiisa yoo jedhanis nama mararti.”
Translation: “If they say ‘our thing is written,’ you will read it. If they say ‘our thing is drawn,’ you will trace it with your hand. If they say ‘our thing is left behind,’ you will wrap it up and carry it.”
The meaning is clear: Tradition is not something to be observed from a distance. It is something to be learned, to be touched, to be carried. It is not static. It is not decorative. It is alive — and it requires living hands to keep it so.
The Gathering of the Waters
One elder, recalling the words of Haajii Roobalee Hulufee, offered another powerful image:
“Laggeen xixiqqaan walitti yaa’uun laga guddaa uumu.”
“Small streams that come together create a great river.”
The Tuulamni Sadeen — the Three Pillars — represent such a coming together. Different streams of the Gadaa tradition, from different regions and different clans, flowing into one great river. The Borana stream. The Gujii stream. The Karrayyuu stream. The Arsi stream. All of them converging at Dhaka Koraatti to perform the same ceremony, to honor the same ancestors, to ensure the same future.
A Message to the World
As the pilgrims rest by the Gafarsa Korma River, their songs echoing across the water, they send a message beyond Ethiopia’s borders. It is a message carried in the hashtags that accompany their posts: #oromoculture, #gada, #UNESCO.
The message is simple but profound:
“Falli Oromoo Gadaa qofa. Gadaatti deebinee sanaaf wal taliignan hunduu mishoomaa fi damboobina callaa himanna. Gadaatu Fala!”
“The solution for Oromo is only the Gadaa. Returning to the Gadaa, all of us who unite for it will overcome scarcity and the darkness of silence. Gadaa is the cure!”
These are not the words of radicals or separatists. They are the words of elders, of pilgrims, of men and women who believe that the best path forward is sometimes the path that goes backward — back to the Odaa tree, back to the Caffee assembly, back to the wisdom of ancestors who solved problems of governance without prisons, without armies, and without endless political campaigns.
What We Have Seen
Standing at the Ardaa Jilaa Dhaka Koraatti, watching the Tuulamni Sadeen prepare for the Baallii transfer, one cannot help but feel a sense of awe. This is not a performance for tourists. There are no souvenirs. There are no ticket booths. There are only men and women — old and young — moving with a sense of sacred purpose.
They have walked far. They have slept on the ground. They have crossed rivers and climbed hills. They have sung until their voices grew hoarse and prayed until their knees grew sore. And they smile. Not the smile of exhaustion, but the smile of fulfillment.
“We are doing what our fathers did,” said a young participant, barely old enough to be initiated into the lower Gadaa grades. “And one day, my children will do what I am doing. That is not repetition. That is continuity. That is immortality.”
The Road Ahead
The Baallii transfer ceremony continues. The pilgrims will complete their journey. The ritual baton will pass from one set of hands to the next. And the Gadaa cycle — which has turned for centuries, which survived emperors and colonizers and dictators — will turn again.
For the Oromo people, the Gadaa system is not a museum piece. It is not a cultural festival staged for outsiders. It is governance. It is community. It is identity. It is a living, breathing democracy that has never needed a constitution because it carries its laws in its memory and its values in its heart.
As the sun sets over the Gafarsa Korma River, the pilgrims gather one last time. They raise their hands in prayer. They ask for safe return. They ask for strength. They ask for the Gadaa to endure.
And somewhere, under an Odaa tree that has stood for generations, an elder whispers the words that have closed every Gadaa ceremony since time immemorial:
“Gadaatu Fala.”
Gadaa is the cure.
Daandii Ragabaa is a journalist based in Finfinne covering cultural heritage, indigenous governance systems, and social affairs across Oromia and Ethiopia. Reporting from East Shewa Zone, Dugda District, and the Ardaa Jilaa Dhaka Koraatti sacred site.
The Oromia Supreme Court statement.
By Daandii Ragabaa
Finfinne
FINFINNE – This evening, the Oromia Supreme Court issued a statement. It was a statement that informed, that horrified, and that mourned — all at once. Because this statement speaks of the killing of a judge and an attempted suicide.
Aadde Warqee Fakkansaa and Aadde Almaaz Makonnin. These names, as of this evening, have become names of sorrow, of shock, and of remembrance.
According to the Oromia Supreme Court, the perpetrator of this crime has been apprehended, and other suspects are also being detained. But of the wound, of the cry, and of justice — the statement leaves much unsaid.
What Happened
According to the statement from the Oromia Supreme Court, the perpetrator of this crime acted after a ruling on the dissolution of a marriage. A dispute over the division of property was underway — and it was over this dispute that he opened fire.
The statement reads: “The husband of Aadde Almaaz, after shooting and killing Aadde Warqee Fakkansaa — a first-instance judge of the Walmara District Court — and his own wife, Aadde Almaaz Makonnin, then shot himself in an attempted suicide. He is currently in serious condition, under police custody, and receiving treatment at a hospital.”
Thus, the perpetrator — whose name is not mentioned in the statement — opened fire over a property division dispute. After a ruling on the dissolution of a marriage, he was displeased? The ruling did not please him? He did not accept the ruling? What is clear is this: the perpetrator was not satisfied with the judgment. And for that dissatisfaction, he killed two people.
Aadde Warqee Fakkansaa: The Judge
Aadde Warqee Fakkansaa was a first-instance judge of the Walmara District Court. In the course of her work, she listened to those who came before her seeking resolution. She issued rulings according to the law, according to the truth, and according to justice. In the course of her work, many loved her, many respected her, and many honored her.
But this evening, Aadde Warqee Fakkansaa — a working judge, a mother, a wife — was killed by gunfire.
“I knew Aadde Warqee,” said a source who requested anonymity. “She was a woman of good heart, a lover of justice, and a respecter of the law. She always ruled fairly, without looking to one side or the other. She did not deserve this. She did not deserve to die like this.”
Aadde Warqee Fakkansaa was killed by gunfire. The perpetrator, displeased with a ruling, opened fire. Aadde Warqee gave her life for the truth of her work, for the truth of the law, and for the truth of justice.
Aadde Almaaz Makonnin: The Bystander
Aadde Almaaz Makonnin was the wife of the perpetrator. She had no part in the shooting. She was not involved in the dispute. She did not know of the crime. When the perpetrator opened fire, she too was wounded. She too was killed.
“Aadde Almaaz was a wife and a mother,” said a legal expert. “She was not the judge. She was not the one who issued the ruling. She was simply there. And she was killed by her own husband.”
After killing Aadde Warqee Fakkansaa and Aadde Almaaz Makonnin, the perpetrator shot himself in an attempted suicide. He is currently in serious condition, under police custody, and receiving treatment at a hospital.
“Attempted suicide is not an escape from the crime,” said a legal analyst. “It is evidence. The perpetrator must face the law.”
The Statement of the Oromia Supreme Court
In its statement, the Oromia Supreme Court condemned the heinous act committed against the judge and stated that legal measures will be taken against the perpetrator and others suspected of involvement in the crime.
Thus, the statement declares: anyone who participated in the crime, anyone who was complicit, anyone who aided the crime — all must face the law.
“The law does not bend,” said a legal expert. “Whoever kills shall be killed. Whoever aids a killer shall be punished. Whoever intends to kill shall be punished. The perpetrator has what awaits him.”
However, the statement of the Oromia Supreme Court leaves much unsaid. The name of the perpetrator — the name of Aadde Almaaz’s husband — is not in the statement. The statement says the perpetrator opened fire over a property division dispute following a marriage dissolution ruling — but what was that ruling? What did it say? What did it give him? What did it deny him? These things are not in the statement.
“What is clear is that the perpetrator opened fire because of a ruling,” said a legal researcher. “But what was that ruling? What did it say that displeased him, that angered him, that he could not accept? Without this, the story is not complete.”
The People’s Grief
Across Oromia this evening, there is grief. Grief for Aadde Warqee Fakkansaa and Aadde Almaaz Makonnin. Grief within the Oromo community and within the Oromia judicial system.
“Once, a judge was respected for their work,” said Asnaketch Boru, 74, in Finfinne. “Today, a judge is killed by gunfire. That is a great thing. That is a terrifying thing. If a judge is not respected, if a judge is not protected, if a judge is not safe — where is the law? Where is justice? Where is truth?”
Within this grief, there is also a cry: a cry for justice, for the law, and for truth. This cry demands that a fair ruling be issued, that the perpetrator face the law, and that judges be protected.
“I have hope,” said Fatuma Jara, a cultural activist in Ambo. “I have hope that the law will work. I have hope that justice will be done. I have hope that the killer will be killed. I have hope that for Aadde Warqee and Aadde Almaaz, justice will be done.”
The Present Moment
In Oromia at this moment, there is conflict, there is dispute, and there is crying out. The law must work. Justice must be done. The crime must be punished.
“Judge Aadde Warqee Fakkansaa should not have died,” said Hunde Fekadu, a community organizer in Finfinne. “But she died. She was killed by gunfire. Our duty is to ensure this never happens again. The perpetrator must face the law. Everyone who participated in the crime must face the law. This is for the honor of Aadde Warqee. This is for the honor of Aadde Almaaz. This is for the honor of law and justice.”
The Oromia Supreme Court has issued a statement. The statement declares that legal measures will be taken. But the statement is not the end — not the end of the crying, not the end of the grief, and not the end of the struggle. The crying, the grief, and the struggle continue until justice is done.
Aadde Warqee Fakkansaa and Aadde Almaaz Makonnin have no peace yet. Justice must be done for them. Until that justice is done, their cry continues.
Daandii Ragabaa is a journalist based in Finfinne covering legal affairs, justice, and social issues across Oromia and Ethiopia.
Advocacy for Oromia 