Monthly Archives: July 2026
The Strong and the Weak: Lessons in Resilience from the Oromo Liberation Struggle
In the crucible of resistance, the difference between victory and defeat lies not in the strength of the enemy, but in the resolve of the fighter
The struggle for liberation is a crucible that tests the very soul of a people. It separates the determined from the disillusioned, the resilient from the defeated. In the long and arduous journey of the Oromo people toward freedom, two archetypes have emerged—the strong fighter and the weak fighter. Their stories offer profound lessons not just for the Oromo liberation movement, but for every struggle for justice and self-determination across the globe.
The Weak Fighter: A Study in Self-Destruction
When the pressures of struggle mount, when the enemy seems overwhelming, and when the path forward appears blocked, a certain type of fighter emerges—one who, in their inability to challenge the external enemy, turns their frustration inward.
“Qabsaa’ota dadhaboo yeroo diinaa fi caasaa diinaa dhiibuu dadhaban kan ofii ijaaranii keessa darban of jalatti diiguu jalqabu.”
The weak fighter, unable to strike the enemy or dismantle their structures, begins to destroy themselves. Frustration gives way to disillusionment; disillusionment gives way to despair; despair gives way to self-destruction. The organization they once served becomes a target of their internal grievances. The comrades they once marched alongside become objects of suspicion and blame. The cause they once championed becomes a source of bitterness.
“Injifannoo egeree otuu hin taane, kufaatii isaanii farrisuun dhalooti akka abdii muratu taasisu.”
The tragedy of the weak fighter is that their legacy becomes not victory but fragmentation. Rather than building a future of freedom, they leave behind a legacy of division and hopelessness. Future generations, inheriting the wreckage of internal conflict, come to believe that the struggle itself was futile.
This is the greatest danger the weak fighter poses—not just to themselves, but to the collective dream of liberation. When fighters turn against each other, when organizations dissolve into feuding factions, when the energy that should be directed against oppression is consumed by internal strife, the enemy wins without firing a shot.
The Strong Fighter: Resilience in the Face of Adversity
In stark contrast stands the strong fighter—one who, regardless of the circumstances, remains anchored in justice and truth.
“Qabsaa’oti jajjaboon, gama biraatiin, yeroo mara haqaa fi dhugaa irratti cichuun injifannoon argame akka daran guddatu falmatu.”
The strong fighter understands that victory is not guaranteed—it must be built, day by day, struggle by struggle, sacrifice by sacrifice. They know that the path to liberation is long and winding, filled with setbacks and sorrows. Yet they press forward, anchored in the conviction that justice and truth will ultimately prevail.
“Dhiibbaa fi miidhaan diinaa hagumuu itti jabaatu, karaa kaleessa ijaarrtanii ittiin xaxaa diinaa keessa darban hin tuqan; hin balaaleffatanis.”
No matter how intense the pressure, no matter how devastating the enemy’s attacks, the strong fighter holds firm. They do not abandon the strategies and structures carefully built over years of struggle. They do not compromise their principles or lose sight of their ultimate goal. They do not allow fear or frustration to erode their resolve.
“Inumaayyuu, jabina ittiin walxaxaa diinaa keessa darban tifkachaa, laafina jiru immoo akka dhalootu ittaanu sirreeffatee fuulduratti milkii caalutti tarkanfatu hojjatu.”
Rather than being consumed by weakness, the strong fighter learns from it. They recognize that the challenges of today are preparing them for the victories of tomorrow. The strengths they develop in overcoming adversity become the foundation upon which future success is built. The weaknesses they identify and correct ensure that the next generation will not repeat the same mistakes.
The Oromo Liberation Struggle: A Case Study in Resilience
The Oromo people have endured over a century of colonial oppression under successive Ethiopian regimes. Their struggle for self-determination has witnessed moments of great triumph and devastating setback. Through it all, the distinction between the strong and the weak fighter has been starkly visible.
The Weak Fighter in Oromo History:
Throughout the Oromo struggle, there have been those who, unable to strike the colonial system effectively, turned their energies toward internal conflict. Factionalism, personal rivalries, and ideological disputes have at times weakened the movement and delayed the realization of Oromo liberation.
Some fighters, frustrated by the seeming impossibility of the struggle, abandoned the cause entirely. Others, unable to achieve their ambitions within the movement, sought to destroy it from within. Still others, consumed by their own grievances, lost sight of the collective dream.
The consequences of such weakness have been profound. Decades of struggle have been prolonged. Generations have been lost to internal division. The enemy has been strengthened by the disunity of the oppressed.
The Strong Fighter in Oromo History:
Yet alongside these cautionary tales stand the heroes of the Oromo struggle—those who, against all odds, maintained their commitment to justice and truth. From the early resistance fighters who faced Menelik’s forces with little more than courage and conviction, to the modern-day revolutionaries who have carried the torch of liberation into the 21st century, the strong fighters of Oromiya have refused to surrender to despair.
These are the fighters who, despite imprisonment, torture, and exile, never abandoned the cause. They who, when the movement was at its weakest, rebuilt it from the ashes. They who, when the enemy seemed invincible, found new ways to resist.
The strong fighters of Oromiya have understood that the struggle is not a sprint but a marathon. They have built institutions, trained cadres, and passed on the legacy of resistance to new generations. They have learned from setbacks and transformed defeats into stepping stones toward victory.
Lessons for All Struggles
The distinction between the strong and the weak fighter holds lessons that extend far beyond the Oromo liberation movement. Every struggle for justice—whether for civil rights, national liberation, or human dignity—faces the same challenges.
Lesson One: The Enemy Is Not Your Comrade
When external pressure mounts, the temptation to turn against one another is strong. But the true enemy is not the comrade who disagrees with you, the leader who makes mistakes, or the organization that disappoints. The true enemy is the system of oppression itself. Directing energy toward internal conflict serves only to strengthen the oppressor.
Lesson Two: Resilience Is Built, Not Given
Strong fighters are not born—they are forged in the fires of struggle. Each setback is an opportunity for learning. Each disappointment is a chance for growth. Each sacrifice strengthens the resolve to continue.
Lesson Three: Victory Belongs to the Persistent
The arc of history bends toward justice—but only because strong fighters continue to bend it. Victory is never guaranteed; it must be won through generations of persistent effort. Those who give up guarantee defeat; those who continue, no matter the obstacles, create the possibility of success.
Lesson Four: Legacy Matters
The weak fighter leaves behind division and despair. The strong fighter leaves behind hope and a foundation for future victory. What legacy will you leave? What will future generations say of your contribution to the struggle?
The Path Forward
As the Oromo liberation movement continues its journey toward self-determination, the choice between strength and weakness remains ever present. The challenges are immense—a powerful state apparatus, a history of division, and the weight of over a century of oppression. Yet the potential for victory has never been greater.
The strong fighter looks at these challenges and sees opportunity. The fractures in the Ethiopian state, the growing international awareness of Oromo issues, the increasing unity of the Oromo people—all point toward the possibility of liberation.
“Jabina ittiin walxaxaa diinaa keessa darban tifkachaa, laafina jiru immoo akka dhalootu ittaanu sirreeffatee fuulduratti milkii caalutti tarkanfatu hojjatu.”
By recognizing and celebrating the strength that has carried the Oromo struggle this far, and by honestly addressing the weaknesses that have held it back, the movement can build toward a future of victory. The strong fighters of today are laying the foundation for the strong fighters of tomorrow.
Conclusion: The Choice Is Ours
The distinction between the strong and the weak fighter is not determined by circumstance but by choice. Every fighter, every activist, every revolutionary faces moments of doubt, fear, and exhaustion. The question is not whether these moments will come, but how we will respond when they do.
Will we turn our frustration inward and destroy ourselves? Or will we draw on the strength of our ancestors, the resilience of our comrades, and the certainty of our cause, and press forward?
The Oromo people have endured much. They have witnessed the destruction of their land, the suppression of their culture, and the denial of their rights. Yet they have not been destroyed. They have not surrendered. They have not given up hope.
“Qabsaa’oti jajjaboon, gama biraatiin, yeroo mara haqaa fi dhugaa irratti cichuun injifannoon argame akka daran guddatu falmatu.”
The strong fighter knows that victory is not simply the absence of defeat—it is the product of persistent, principled, and unwavering struggle. And it is this conviction that will ultimately carry the Oromo people from oppression to freedom, from injustice to justice, from despair to hope.
“Jabina ittiin walxaxaa diinaa keessa darban tifkachaa, laafina jiru immoo akka dhalootu ittaanu sirreeffatee fuulduratti milkii caalutti tarkanfatu hojjatu.”
Let us celebrate the strength with which we navigate the enemy’s complexities, and let us correct our weaknesses so that future generations may march forward to even greater victories.
The struggle continues. The strong fighter endures. And victory, however distant, remains within reach.
The Currency of Truth: Finding Peace in a World of Division
In an era of tribal loyalties and political polarization, one voice reminds us that truth remains unchanged by who speaks it
In a time when every statement is filtered through the lens of political allegiance, when facts are accepted or rejected based on their source, and when loyalty to tribe often trumps loyalty to truth, a quiet but powerful reflection emerges from the heart of Oromo wisdom.
“Dhugaan eenyuun iyyuu haa dubbatamu, eessatti iyyuu haa raawwatamu, dhugaan yeroo hunda dhugaadha.”
Truth—regardless of who speaks it, wherever it is manifested—remains truth forever.
This simple yet profound statement carries a weight that resonates far beyond its words. It challenges us to examine our own relationship with truth in an age of deep divisions and competing narratives.
The Fragility of Peace
The reflection begins with a meditation on peace:
“Sammuun dhugaatti amanuuf waan gaarii yaadu nagaan jiraata! Nagaa sammuu qabaachuun waan hunda caalaa badhaadhina guddaadha.”
A mind that believes in truth and thinks good thoughts lives in peace. Possessing peace of mind is the greatest wealth of all.
This is not mere sentiment—it is a profound psychological insight. When our minds are consumed by suspicion, when we view every statement through the lens of who said it rather than what was said, we forfeit our inner peace. We become prisoners of our own prejudices, forever anxious about the motives of those we oppose and unquestioning of those we support.
“Namni qalbii qulqulluu yoo qabaate, cubbuu irraa bilisa ta’a; kanaafis hirriba nagaa rafa.”
A person with a pure heart is free from sin; therefore, they sleep peacefully.
The Challenge of Our Time
In the current era, truth has become a casualty of tribalism. We have witnessed how political affiliations, ethnic loyalties, and ideological commitments color our perception of reality itself.
The reflection confronts this directly:
“Bara keenya keessatti wantoonni hedduun garee fi ilaalcha siyaasaan madaalamu. Namni nuti jibbinu ykn morminu dhugaa yoo dubbate, dhugaa sana fudhachuuf rakkina qabna.”
In our time, many things are measured by group affiliation and political perspective. If someone we dislike or oppose speaks the truth, we struggle to accept it.
This is one of the most dangerous tendencies of our age. We have become so entrenched in our positions that we cannot recognize truth when it comes from the “wrong” source. We have allowed our enemies to be defined not by their actions but by our opposition to them—and in doing so, we have surrendered our ability to perceive reality clearly.
The reflection continues:
“Yaada yaadaan mari’achuu fi mormuun hafee, gareedhaan wal mormina.”
Arguments and disagreements persist, and we oppose each other by group.
What began as genuine differences of opinion has hardened into tribal warfare. We no longer engage with ideas—we oppose people. We no longer evaluate arguments—we dismiss sources.
The Dangerous Asymmetry
Perhaps most troubling is the asymmetry in how we treat truth depending on its source:
“Dhuguma sana namni nuti deeggaru yoo dubbate garuu, ‘sirriidha’ jennee harka rukunna.”
But when someone we support speaks the same truth, we applaud and say, “That is correct.”
This double standard is the erosion of integrity itself. It means we are no longer evaluating statements based on their truthfulness but based on their alignment with our tribal loyalties. We have become incapable of independent judgment.
The implications are staggering. If truth is determined by who speaks it rather than what is said, then truth itself ceases to exist. We are left with only competing narratives, each claiming legitimacy based on the identity of its speaker rather than the accuracy of its content.
The Call to Integrity
Against this backdrop of tribalism and division, the reflection offers a clear way forward:
“Kanaaf, nama nuti deeggaru ta’e nama nuti morminu haa ta’u, dhugaan dhugaadha; cubbuunis cubbuudha. Kana akkasitti amanuu fi shaakaluu wayya.”
Therefore, whether someone is someone we support or someone we oppose, truth is truth; sin is sin. It is better to believe and practice this.
This is a call to intellectual integrity—to evaluate statements based on their merit rather than their source. It is a challenge to rise above tribal loyalties and embrace a higher standard of truth.
The reward for such commitment is profound:
“Waaqnis dhugaa jaallata; sammuunis nagaa argata.”
God loves truth; and the mind finds peace.
The Wisdom of Oromo Proverbs
The reflection draws on the rich tradition of Oromo wisdom, invoking two powerful proverbs:
“Akka Oromoon jedhu, ‘Nama jibban haqa isaa hin jibban.'”
As the Oromo say, “Do not hate a person’s justice because you hate the person.”
This proverb captures the essence of the argument: justice and truth stand independent of the people who speak them. We are called to separate our judgment of a person from our evaluation of their words.
“Akkasumas, ‘Dhugaan ilmoo Waaqaati.'”
And also, “Truth is the child of God.”
This elevates truth to a sacred status. To reject truth because of its source is to reject something divine. To embrace truth regardless of its origin is to align oneself with the sacred.
The Reward of Integrity
The reflection concludes with a powerful vision of the life lived in pursuit of truth:
“Dhugaa kabajuun nama kabajuudha; dhugaa fudhachuunis nagaa sammuu argamsiisa.”
Honoring truth is honoring oneself; accepting truth brings peace of mind.
This is the final, compelling argument for integrity. It is not merely a moral imperative—it is a practical one. Those who refuse to accept truth because of its source are not punishing the speaker; they are punishing themselves. They are forfeiting the peace that comes from living in alignment with reality.
“Guyyaa nagaa qabu qabaadha, sammuu nagaa yaadu horadhaa.”
May you have a peaceful day; may you cultivate a mind that thinks in peace.
A Message for Our Time
The reflection from Kumala Addunyaa arrives as a timely antidote to the poison of our age. In a world increasingly defined by echo chambers, confirmation bias, and tribal loyalties, it calls us back to something more fundamental: the pursuit of truth itself.
It challenges us to examine our own hearts. Are we willing to accept truth from those we oppose? Are we willing to acknowledge wrongdoing in those we support? Are we courageous enough to judge statements based on their content rather than their source?
The answers to these questions will determine not only the quality of our public discourse but the state of our own inner peace. As long as we remain prisoners of our prejudices, we will never know the peace that comes from living in truth.
The way forward is clear but difficult: we must learn to separate the message from the messenger. We must cultivate the humility to acknowledge truth wherever it appears and the courage to reject falsehood wherever it hides—even among those we love.
The Universal Call
While rooted in Oromo wisdom, the reflection speaks to all of humanity. Every culture, every nation, every community faces the challenge of tribalism and the temptation to reject truth based on its source. The principles articulated here are universal:
- Truth stands independent of its speaker
- Integrity requires us to evaluate statements on their merit
- Inner peace comes from living in alignment with truth
- Honoring truth is ultimately honoring oneself
In a time of deep division, these principles offer a path forward—not through compromise or accommodation, but through a renewed commitment to truth itself.
Conclusion
As the sun sets on another day of conflicting narratives and competing claims, the words of the reflection linger:
“Dhugaan eenyuun iyyuu haa dubbatamu, eessatti iyyuu haa raawwatamu, dhugaan yeroo hunda dhugaadha.”
Truth—regardless of who speaks it, wherever it is manifested—remains truth forever.
This is not merely a philosophical statement; it is a guide for living. Those who embrace this truth will find the peace that comes from integrity. Those who reject it will remain prisoners of their own prejudices.
The choice is ours. And the reward for choosing wisely is nothing less than peace of mind.
“Guyyaa nagaa qabu qabaadha, sammuu nagaa yaadu horadhaa.”
May you have a peaceful day; may you cultivate a mind that thinks in peace.
The Sacred Journey of Gadaa: Oromo Community Gathers for Ancient ‘Wal-Argii’ Naming Ceremony
As the sun rises over Guyyoo Gobba, elders and youth come together to celebrate the timeless traditions that have guided Oromo society for generations
BORANA ZONE, OROMIA — In the heart of Oromia, where the ancient rhythms of tradition still pulse through the land, the community of Guyyoo Gobba is preparing for a ceremony that connects the present to centuries of ancestral wisdom. The occasion is the sacred “Wal-Argii” ritual—a ceremony of recognition and naming that marks a significant transition in the Gadaa system, the indigenous democratic governance structure that has guided Oromo society for over 500 years.
The Gadaa system, recognized by UNESCO as an Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity, is a complex and sophisticated framework that organizes Oromo society into distinct life stages. Each stage carries specific responsibilities, rituals, and ceremonies that prepare individuals for their roles within the community. At the heart of this system lies a profound truth: every child born into this tradition begins a journey of transformation, moving through carefully defined stages toward becoming a full participant in their society.
The Journey Begins: Dabballee
In the Gadaa system, when a male child is born, he enters the world as a Dabballee. This is the foundational stage of life, recognized without question—a male child is Dabballee, never female. The Dabballee period spans the first eight years of life. It is a time of innocence and learning, where the child is nurtured and prepared for the journey ahead.
On the eighth year, the child undergoes the Maqbaasa Ritual—the Ceremony for Naming. This is the child’s first formal recognition within the community, a moment when his identity is publicly acknowledged and celebrated.
The Second Stage: Gammee
Emerging from Dabballee, the child enters the Gammee stage. This period lasts for sixteen years and is divided into two parts: Gammee Gugurdoo and Gammee Didiqqoo. It is during this stage that the community gathers for the “Wal-Argii Ritual”—also known as the Nyaachisa Ritual, or the Ritual of Eating.
The Nyaachisa is sacred. As elders explain, “Without Nyaachisa, one cannot become Kuusa.” The ritual of eating together is not merely about consuming food—it is about entering into community, about sharing in the collective identity that binds Oromo society together.
During this stage, the community gathers to witness and celebrate the growth of their children. The foods prepared are not random; they carry deep cultural significance. Young people learn the importance of communal sharing and the responsibilities that come with becoming full members of society.
The Third Stage: Kuusa
After experiencing the Nyaachisa and emerging from Gammee, individuals enter the Kuusa stage, which lasts another eight years. The Kuusa stage is marked by a significant ritual: the Goodiyyaa Ritual, during which six officials are chosen from among the group. These six will take on leadership responsibilities within the community, learning the arts of governance and decision-making.
The selection of officials at this stage is critical—it identifies those who will carry forward the wisdom of their elders and guide their peers through the challenges ahead.
The Fourth Stage: Raaba
From Kuusa, individuals transition to Raaba, an eight-year period filled with important rituals that mark the transition to adulthood. During this stage, young men undergo the Muusoo Ritual and the Dhokhisuu Ritual—ceremonies that grant men permission to marry.
These rituals are about more than marriage; they signify readiness to take on adult responsibilities, to build families, and to contribute fully to the community. The Raaba stage teaches young men the importance of commitment, partnership, and the continuation of the Oromo lineage.
The Fifth Stage: Doorii
The Doorii stage is a five-year period marked by profound rituals, including the Buttaa Ritual and the Daannisa Ritual. The Daannisa is particularly significant—it is the ceremony that gives men permission to have children.
This stage represents the culmination of the reproductive and familial responsibilities that individuals will carry forward. It is during Doorii that men demonstrate their readiness to become fathers and to raise the next generation of Oromo society.
The Sixth Stage: Gadaa
The Gadaa stage itself lasts eight years and is perhaps the most recognized and celebrated period in the entire system. It is during this stage that leaders are inaugurated and governance structures are fully realized. The rituals of this period include:
- Baallii Ritual: The Inauguration Ceremony of the Leader of Gadaa
- Gindaa Ritual/Gumii Gaayoo: The assembly of the community
- Guutuu Ritual: A ceremony of completion and fulfillment
- Odaa Ritual: The dissolution of the Yaa’a Village and retirement of Gadaa officials
The Seventh Stage: Yuuba
Emerging from Gadaa, individuals enter the Yuuba stage, which lasts for twenty-seven years. This is a period of wisdom and mentorship, where elders guide the younger generations. The Yuuba are the custodians of knowledge, the keepers of the tradition, and the guides who ensure that the Gadaa system continues to thrive.
The Eighth Stage: Gadaammojjii
Finally, individuals enter the Gadaammojjii stage, an eight-year period that represents the final phase of the life cycle. The Gadaammojjii is the stage of elders—those who have passed through all previous stages and now serve as the ultimate authority. The Mataa Buufattu (the leader of the Gadaammojjii) presides over the Gadaammojjii Ritual, ensuring that the traditions are passed down correctly.
A Living Tradition
The journey from Dabballee through Gammee, Kuusa, Raaba, Doorii, Gadaa, Yuuba, and finally to Gadaammojjii represents the complete arc of human life in Oromo society. As elders say, “Ilmii Namaa Dabballee tahee Gammeetti dabra”—the child who was Dabballee has now passed through all stages.
None of these stages are bypassed; none are skipped. Each is essential to the formation of a complete person, a responsible community member, and a faithful steward of Oromo heritage.
The Gathering at Guyyoo Gobba
Today, the community of Guyyoo Gobba in the Borana Zone, within the Dhaas Ardaa (district) at Gumii Gaayoo, has gathered to continue this sacred tradition. Under the guidance of Abba Gadaa Guyyoo Gobba Bulee, they are conducting the Wal-Argii ceremony—the ritual of recognition and naming.
The celebration is taking place in stages, each day marking a different aspect of the ceremony. Tomorrow, the community will gather on the eastern side, entering Ardaa Hiigootti to perform the traditional Miloo (community assembly). The following day, they will move to the western side, entering Ardaa Borborii, where they will prepare the ceremonial foods that the children will share and receive blessings.
In the month of Adoolleessa, as the community continues to gather at Gumii Gaayoo under the leadership of Abba Gadaa Guyyoo Gobba, the Wal-Argii ceremony will continue to unfold, connecting the present generation to the wisdom of their ancestors.
A Ceremony of Unity
As the gathering begins, elders lead the community in prayers and rituals. The air fills with the sounds of traditional songs, the rhythmic movement of dances, and the joyful laughter of children who understand—even at their young age—that something sacred is taking place.
“Nagaan Gooroo marmaaraa ga’aa gammee buufadha!” the elders proclaim. “Peace has arrived in our gathering; we have begun our ceremony!”
The food prepared during these celebrations is not merely nourishment—it is a symbol of community, of sharing, and of the bonds that tie Oromo society together. When the children eat together, they are not simply satisfying hunger; they are entering into a sacred covenant with their community, their ancestors, and their future.
The Significance of Wal-Argii
The Wal-Argii ceremony represents the heart of Oromo identity. It is where children learn who they are, where families come together to celebrate their heritage, and where the community reaffirms its commitment to the values that have sustained Oromo society for centuries.
In a rapidly changing world, where globalization threatens to erase ancient traditions, the Oromo people hold fast to their Gadaa system. It is not merely a relic of the past—it is a living, breathing system of governance that continues to guide communities across Oromiya.
Looking to the Future
As the sun sets over Guyyoo Gobba and the families return to their homes, they carry with them the blessings of the ceremony. The children who have been named and recognized will remember this day—the songs, the dances, the foods, and the wisdom shared by their elders.
The Gadaa system teaches that each person has a role to play, a stage to fulfill, and a responsibility to the community. From the youngest Dabballee to the most respected Gadaammojjii, every individual matters. Every life has meaning. Every ritual connects the present to the past and prepares the way for the future.
A Message for the World
The Gadaa system offers a model of governance that the world might learn from—a system that values consensus, respects elders, nurtures youth, and recognizes the sacredness of life itself. It is a testament to the wisdom of the Oromo people and their contribution to the heritage of humanity.
As the community of Guyyoo Gobba continues its ceremonies, they invite all who would listen to witness and learn. The Wal-Argii is not just an Oromo celebration—it is a celebration of what it means to be human, to belong, and to carry forward the traditions of those who came before.
The journey continues. The ceremonies endure. And the Oromo people—their traditions, their wisdom, and their resilience—shine as a light in a world that desperately needs to remember the value of community, tradition, and shared humanity.
‘We Are Walking Door to Door’: Anti-Immigrant Vigilantes Escalate Campaign of Intimidation Across South Africa
With tens of thousands repatriated to Zimbabwe and Malawi, a nation confronts the dark tide of xenophobia as weekly marches promise more violence
JOHANNESBURG, July 9 — The morning sun rose over Alexandra township, one of Johannesburg’s most densely populated communities, promising another day of uncertainty and fear. By midday, the streets echoed with the sound of splintering wood and desperate pleas as anti-immigrant vigilantes methodically moved from house to house, breaking down doors and dragging terrified residents into the open.
The scenes playing out across Alexandra, Soweto, and Durban represent a dangerous escalation in South Africa’s ongoing xenophobic crisis—one that has already forced tens of thousands of migrants to flee the country they once called home.
‘I Am a ZEP Holder’
Among those apprehended by the marchers was Total Mhlanga, a Zimbabwean national whose hands trembled as he was escorted toward a police van. “I am a ZEP holder,” he insisted, referring to the Zimbabwean Exemption Permit that legally allows tens of thousands of Zimbabweans to live and work in South Africa. His papers, however, seemed to matter little to those who had seized him.
In Alexandra, a Reuters reporter witnessed protesters breaking into homes where they believed undocumented immigrants were hiding. Among those forcibly removed was a woman clutching a small child—both citizens of Malawi, a country now grappling with the mass return of over 38,000 of its nationals who have fled South Africa in recent weeks.
A Zimbabwean mother of three, who asked not to be named for fear of retaliation, described watching from her window as neighbors were dragged from their homes. “I came here legally. My children were born here. This is the only home they know. Now I must decide whether to stay and risk everything or return to a country I left because there was no future there.”
‘Every Thursday Until Our Demands Are Met’
The movement driving this violence has found an unlikely and increasingly vocal leader: former radio presenter Jacinta Ngobese-Zuma. Her group, known as March and March (also referred to as “March 1 March”), has organized nationwide protests that have transitioned from street demonstrations to what community leaders describe as “door-to-door” operations targeting foreign nationals.
“Protests will take place every Thursday until our demands are met,” Ngobese-Zuma declared on June 30, an informal deadline her movement had set for undocumented immigrants to leave South Africa. The promise has become a terrifying reality for migrants across the country.
Her organization has painted undocumented immigrants as the source of South Africa’s deep-seated economic challenges—unemployment, housing shortages, and strained public services—demanding tighter border controls, mass deportation, and the prioritization of South African citizens in schools and healthcare facilities.
A Community Divided
At the march in Alexandra, community leader Bongani Msomi justified the tactics being employed. “We are walking around doing door to door removing foreigners,” he stated matter-of-factly, as behind him, protesters brandished sticks and flags.
Yet not all South Africans support the movement. In the same township, elderly residents watched with concern, some shaking their heads in silent disapproval. A local teacher, who also asked not to be named, expressed anguish over the situation: “We are destroying what Nelson Mandela built. Ubuntu is dead in these streets. These people are not our enemies—they are our neighbors, our customers, our children’s classmates.”
The Government’s Response—and Its Limits
President Cyril Ramaphosa has repeatedly warned against scapegoating immigrants for the country’s problems. His government has issued clear directives that citizens do not have the right to take immigration enforcement into their own hands.
Police have deployed officers to recent marches for safety and have stepped up arrests of undocumented migrants—yet the line between law enforcement and vigilantism has become dangerously blurred. At the scenes of Thursday’s protests, officers stood by as vigilantes dragged people from their homes. A spokesperson for Johannesburg police was not immediately available to explain the actions of officers at the scene.
Human rights organizations have raised urgent concerns about the complicity—or at minimum, inaction—of law enforcement in facilitating these “removals.” “When police receive citizens who have been unlawfully detained and physically removed from their homes, they are not acting as neutral enforcers of the law,” said a legal observer who requested anonymity. “They are, in effect, legitimizing extrajudicial actions.”
A Regional Humanitarian Crisis
The ripple effects of South Africa’s xenophobic violence are being felt across southern Africa. Malawi’s government confirmed Thursday that over 38,000 of its citizens had returned in recent weeks, part of a massive repatriation effort driven by safety concerns. Neighboring Zimbabwe has seen more than 60,000 of its nationals return—a staggering figure that represents not just a humanitarian crisis but an economic shock to both nations.
These returnees are arriving in countries that already struggle with their own economic challenges. Many had been sending remittances home, supporting extended families and local economies. Their forced return is creating new vulnerabilities while straining already limited resources in their countries of origin.
The Human Cost
Behind the statistics lie countless stories of shattered lives. A Malawian shopkeeper in Soweto watched his business—built over fifteen years—looted and destroyed. A Zimbabwean nurse who had served in a public hospital for a decade now sleeps in a shelter, uncertain if she will ever return to work. An Oromo refugee who fled political persecution in Ethiopia now faces violence in the country where he sought sanctuary.
“The pain is not just physical,” says Dr. Thabo Mbeki (not the former president), a community psychologist who has been providing counseling to affected families. “People are experiencing profound trauma. They have lost everything—their homes, their livelihoods, their sense of safety. Children are refusing to eat. Parents cannot sleep. The psychological wounds will last for generations.”
The Economic Fallacy
Economists have pushed back against the narrative that immigrants are the primary cause of South Africa’s economic woes. Studies have shown that immigrants often create jobs through entrepreneurship, fill critical skills gaps, and contribute to the tax base. The country’s unemployment crisis, they argue, has far deeper roots in systemic inequality, inadequate education, and stagnant economic growth.
“To blame immigrants for unemployment is not just inaccurate—it’s dangerous,” says economist Tendai Moyo. “It diverts attention from the real structural reforms that are needed. It gives people a scapegoat instead of solutions.”
A Nation at a Crossroads
South Africa stands at a defining moment. The post-apartheid constitution—one of the most progressive in the world—enshrines human dignity and equality. Yet the country’s actions are betraying these principles.
As Thursday’s marches conclude and communities brace for what next week may bring, a fundamental question remains: Will South Africa find the political will to protect the most vulnerable among its residents, or will it allow xenophobic violence to become normalized?
The international community is watching. The African Union has expressed concern. Human rights organizations have documented abuses. Diplomats from affected countries have raised the issue with their South African counterparts.
But for the families huddled behind locked doors—the legal permit holders who still fear arrest, the children too frightened to attend school, the business owners who have lost everything—the response so far has been insufficient.
A Plea for Humanity
As evening falls over Alexandra, the sound of broken glass crunches underfoot. Women sweep debris from their doorsteps. Men gather in small groups, their voices low with tension. Children peek through curtained windows, their games silenced.
“In a just world, this would not happen,” reflects one elderly South African woman who has lived in the township for seven decades. “We suffered under apartheid. We know what it is to be treated as less than human. How can we do this to others? How have we forgotten so quickly?”
Her question hangs in the air, unanswered.
The marches will continue, the groups have promised. And as long as they do, the fragile thread of pan-African solidarity—the very ideal that South Africa’s liberation struggle championed—grows thinner with each passing Thursday.
Reporting from Johannesburg, Alexandra township, and Soweto. Additional reporting from Lilongwe and Harare.
African Migrants Across South Africa Sound Alarm Over Escalating Violence, Economic Sabotage, and Systematic Intimidation
The Oromo and broader African diaspora face mounting threats from anti-migrant movements as ‘March 1 March’ and ‘Operation Dudula’ intensify nationwide
SOUTH AFRICA — Beneath the bustling streets of Johannesburg’s inner city, where the rhythms of pan-African commerce once thrived, a palpable fear now settles like an unwelcome fog. Across the nation, from the Cape Flats to the townships of Durban, African migrants who sought refuge and opportunity in the Rainbow Nation are now sounding an urgent alarm—their lives, their livelihoods, and their basic human dignity hang in the balance.
The crisis, while not new, has reached a critical precipice. African migrants, including thousands of Oromo refugees who fled political persecution in Ethiopia and other regions of the Horn of Africa, report being systematically targeted by organized anti-migrant movements. The groups operating under the banners of “March 1 March” and “Operation Dudula” have orchestrated campaigns that victims describe as coordinated efforts to economically cripple and physically intimidate foreign nationals.
‘We Came Seeking Safety’
For many Oromo migrants, the journey to South Africa began as a desperate flight from violence in their homeland. “I left Oromiya with nothing but the clothes on my back,” says Bontu, a mother of three who now runs a small tailoring business in Cape Town. “I came here believing in Ubuntu, the spirit of African unity. Now I lock my door and pray my children return from school alive.”
Bontu’s story is echoed across the country. Migrants who fled political instability, ethnic conflict, and economic collapse have found themselves facing a new nightmare—xenophobic violence that South African authorities have been slow to address.
Documentation of Widespread Violence
Representatives from affected communities have compiled extensive video evidence and firsthand testimonies documenting the severity of the crisis. The footage reveals disturbing scenes of organized brutality:
Economic Warfare and Property Destruction: In coordinated operations that appear strategically planned, businesses owned by African migrants have been systematically looted and destroyed. In Tembisa, Soweto, and other townships, foreign-owned shops have been reduced to smoldering shells. Vehicles have been set ablaze in broad daylight as onlookers record the destruction on their phones.
Organized Mob Violence: Victims describe targeted mass beatings and physical harassment. “They came in groups, armed with pangas and iron bars,” recounts Tadesse, an Oromo shopkeeper in Pretoria. “They didn’t ask for money. They wanted to destroy everything. They told us to ‘go back home.'”
Administrative Blockades and Intimidation: Even routine bureaucratic processes have become battlegrounds. Migrants report being subjected to threats and deliberate delays when attempting to renew residency permits or legal documentation—an essential process for maintaining lawful status in the country.
The Psychological Toll
Perhaps most devastating is the invisible wound—the psychological trauma inflicted upon entire communities. Parents across the nation have stopped sending their children to schools, fearing they may not return. Families remain confined to their homes, living in what victims describe as “continuous high anxiety.”
“My daughter asks why we can’t go to the park anymore,” says Bontu. “How do I explain to a seven-year-old that her skin, her language, her origins make her a target in a country that was supposed to welcome us all?”
Children who once dreamed of becoming doctors and teachers now live with nightmares of masked men breaking down their doors.
Operation Dudula: A Movement Under Scrutiny
Operation Dudula, which translates to “force” or “push back” in isiZulu, has positioned itself as a grassroots movement addressing legitimate concerns about unemployment and housing shortages in South African communities. However, critics argue the movement has crossed into dangerous territory by targeting vulnerable migrant populations rather than advocating for systemic solutions to the country’s deep-seated socioeconomic challenges.
March 1 March, another anti-migrant initiative, has similarly been linked to escalating tensions and violence against foreign nationals.
Both groups have denied accusations of xenophobia, maintaining they are addressing the strain that undocumented migration places on local resources. Yet the victims’ testimonies paint a different picture—one of organized intimidation targeting law-abiding residents who have contributed to their communities for years or even decades.
A Call to Action
Spokespersons from affected communities are distributing their documented evidence to international media outlets, civil society organizations, and human rights watchdogs. Their plea is clear: the South African government, law enforcement agencies, and the international community must act immediately to:
- Protect Vulnerable Populations: Deploy law enforcement to prevent further attacks and ensure perpetrators face consequences
- Uphold the Rule of Law: Ensure all residents, regardless of nationality, have equal access to legal protections and administrative services
- Address the Root Causes: Develop comprehensive strategies to address unemployment and service delivery challenges without scapegoating foreign nationals
- Promote Social Cohesion: Invest in community dialogue and education programs that counter xenophobic narratives
The Broader Context
South Africa has a complex history with migration. As the continent’s most industrialized economy, it has long attracted workers and entrepreneurs from across Africa. Yet recurring waves of xenophobic violence—in 2008, 2015, 2019, and now ongoing—have tarnished the nation’s reputation and contradicted its constitutional commitment to human dignity.
The Oromo diaspora, numbering in the thousands, represents a particularly vulnerable population. Having fled political persecution and ethnic conflict, many lack the robust social networks that might offer protection. They arrived with skills, determination, and hope—qualities that have enriched South African communities when given the opportunity.
An African Tragedy
As the sun sets over the continent, the irony is not lost on those caught in this crisis. African refugees who fled conflict zones, seeking safety within their own continent, now face violence from the very communities they sought to join.
“The dream of a united Africa feels very far away,” reflects Tadesse. “But I still believe. We must not let the actions of some destroy the vision of all. Our children deserve to inherit a continent of solidarity, not suspicion.”
The international community and African Union have mechanisms to address such crises—protocols on the protection of refugees, conventions on human rights, frameworks for continental solidarity. What remains to be seen is whether these instruments will translate into meaningful action before more lives are destroyed.
The Way Forward
South African civil society organizations have called for urgent dialogue between migrant communities, government representatives, and local leaders. Some municipalities have begun establishing community forums to address tensions constructively.
Human rights lawyers are preparing legal challenges against the most egregious violations, while grassroots peacebuilding initiatives work to rebuild trust between South African residents and their migrant neighbors.
Yet time is of the essence. The violence continues, the fear deepens, and the economic damage mounts. For every day that passes without meaningful intervention, more families are displaced, more livelihoods destroyed, and more children grow up in a world where “foreigner” has become synonymous with “target.”
A Shared Humanity
As one Oromo elder noted during a community meeting in Johannesburg, “We have forgotten that we are all African. The borders that divide us were drawn by colonial powers who wished to keep us fighting each other. Our strength lies in remembering our shared humanity.”
The crisis facing African migrants in South Africa is not merely a matter of domestic policy—it is a test of the continent’s commitment to the principles of pan-African unity and solidarity. How South Africa responds to this moment will send a message far beyond its borders.
In the meantime, families continue to lock their doors, children remain home from school, and communities pray for a dawn that brings not fear, but hope.
The Unwritten Code: Why Word Order Holds the Key to Oromo Identity
By Dhabessa Wakjira
In a world increasingly dominated by linguistic homogenization, the quiet persistence of grammatical structure might seem like an esoteric concern for academics and purists. But in Ethiopia, a battle for cultural identity is being waged not on battlefields, but in the subtle ordering of nouns and adjectives. For the Oromo people, the rule “maqaa dursee, ibsituu gala”—placing the noun before the adjective—is not merely a stylistic quirk. It is a declaration of intellectual sovereignty.
A Language’s Silent Logic
Consider the geography of the Oromo homeland. We speak of Oromiyaa Lixaa (Western Oromia), Oromiyaa Bahaa (Eastern Oromia), Oromiyaa Kibba Bahaa (Southeastern Oromia), and Oromiyaa Giddugalaa (Central Oromia). The pattern is unmistakable: the subject—the nation itself—comes first. Its attributes, its regions, its descriptions follow. This is the bedrock of Afaan Oromo syntax.
Yet, this natural rhythm is under siege. The dominant linguistic forces in the region—Amharic and English—operate on an inverse logic. In English, one says “Western Oromia” (adjective + noun). In Amharic, the structure is Mirab Oromiyaa (Adjective + Noun). When speakers of these languages apply their grammatical framework to Oromo, the result is a linguistic Frankenstein: Lixaa Oromiyaa instead of Oromiyaa Lixaa.
Beyond Grammar: A Question of Respect
For Habtamu Boru, a linguist at Addis Ababa University, this is more than a grammatical faux pas. “Language is the blueprint of thought,” he argues. “When you alter the word order of a language, you are not just making a grammatical error; you are attempting to rewrite its cognitive DNA. The Oromo mind identifies the entity first—the nation, the person, the object—and then considers its qualities. To reverse that is to impose a foreign way of seeing the world.”
This becomes glaringly evident when we look at proper naming conventions. The historically and linguistically correct forms are:
· Arsii Bahaa (Eastern Arsi)
· Gujii Lixaa (Western Guji)
· Harargee Bahaa (Eastern Hararghe)
· Shawaa Lixaa (Western Shewa)
· Wallaggaa Bahaa (Eastern Wallagga)
When these are inverted—Bahaa Arsi or Lixaa Gujii—they cease to be authentic Oromo expressions. They become colonial imitations, betraying the speaker’s unfamiliarity with the soul of the language.
Why It Matters in 2026
As of 2026, Afaan Oromo is one of the most spoken languages in the Horn of Africa, with tens of millions of speakers. It is the working language of the Oromia Regional State and is increasingly used in education and media. Yet, the infiltration of foreign syntactic structures poses a silent threat.
The danger is insidious. Children learning Afaan Oromo in urban centers often adopt the adjective-first structure, mistaking it for modernization or fluency. The media, swayed by translation conventions from English and Amharic news sources, increasingly broadcast geographic and descriptive phrases that violate the core rule.
A Call to Linguistic Arms
The call to “Hordofuun Barbaachisaa Dha” (It is necessary to follow) is not about rigid prescriptivism. It is about preservation. It is a plea to remember that language is not a mechanical tool for communication; it is a vessel for history, for worldview, for dignity.
When we say Biyya Keenya (Our Country) and not Keenya Biyya, we affirm that the country belongs to us, not the description to the country. When we say Namuma Gaarii (A Good Person) and not Gaarii Namuma, we affirm that the person precedes their qualities.
As the Oromo proverb goes, “Afaan namatti haasa’uu akka ofii isaati”—speak to people in their own language. And to speak to the Oromo truly is to place their noun before the adjective.
The Path Forward
The solution lies in vigilance. Parents must correct their children. Educators must emphasize this rule alongside vocabulary. Media houses must hire competent editors who understand the structural integrity of Afaan Oromo. Most importantly, non-native speakers must recognize that adopting this rule is a gesture of respect, an acknowledgment that they are engaging with a culture that has its own logic, its own beauty, and its own way of ordering the world.
The rule is simple: Maqaa dursee, ibsituu gala. The noun first, the adjective follows. It is the key to a grammar, but it is also the key to a culture.
It is time to unlock it.
THE GENERATION OF THE BOOK: How the Keepers of Knowledge Forged a Living Purpose for Their Nation
They did not pick up arms alone; they picked up pens, manuscripts, and the dusty archives of memory—and in doing so, they gave their people a future worth fighting for.
—
By Our Staff Writer
There is a generation that walks among us—unassuming, often overlooked, yet carrying the weight of centuries upon their shoulders. They are not soldiers in the conventional sense. They do not stand on barricades with rifles. Their weapons are older, sharper, and far more enduring: books, scrolls, oral epics, and the sacred duty of remembrance.
This is the generation that read the book of knowledge not for personal glory, not for academic titles, but for their nation and their country. They understood that a people who forget their past are a people condemned to wander in the darkness of others’ narratives. So they opened their eyes, their ears, and their hearts to the whispers of their ancestors, and they transcribed those whispers into a living, breathing blueprint for the future.
They have set a Living Purpose—a compass not carved in stone, but etched into the very soul of the Oromo nation.
—
The Archive of Silence No More
For decades, the history of Oromia was a forbidden text. Colonial anthropologists wrote of the Oromo as a “stateless” people, a footnote to Ethiopian imperial narratives. State-sponsored textbooks erased the Gadaa system, reducing a 500-year-old democracy to a “primitive” custom. The language itself was relegated to the shadows, its beautiful rhythms and proverbs deemed too dangerous for the public sphere.
Then came the generation of the book.
They began in secret—under the flickering light of kerosene lamps, in the basements of diaspora homes, in the prayerful silence of elders’ huts. They transcribed oral histories that had survived the swords of conquerors. They translated ancient poems and legal codes. They documented the names of heroes whose graves had been deliberately unmarked. They studied the sciences of agriculture, linguistics, law, and political theory, not as abstract disciplines, but as tools for liberation.
This was not merely academic curiosity. It was archaeology of the soul. Every recovered manuscript, every restored lineage, every corrected historical distortion was a brick laid in the foundation of a nation that had been told it had no foundation at all.
—
The Book as the Blueprint
But this generation did not stop at remembrance. They were forward-looking—future-casting visionaries who understood that the past, no matter how glorious, is only the starting line.
They read, yes. But they also interpreted. They asked: What does the Gadaa system teach us about governance today? How can the Oromo philosophy of Nagaa (peace) inform conflict resolution in a fractured region? What economic models are sustainable for the pastoralists of the Borana and the farmers of Arsi? How can the Oromo diaspora, scattered across the globe, remain connected to the homeland without losing their hard-won international solidarity?
The generation of the book synthesized these questions into a Living Purpose—a dynamic, evolving vision that adapts to changing circumstances while remaining rooted in eternal values. They did not propose a rigid ideology, but a method: a way of being Oromo that is simultaneously ancient and modern, particular and universal, rooted and reaching.
This purpose is not a document gathering dust on a shelf. It is a living will, passed from elder to youth, from rural village to urban university, from the highlands to the diaspora. It grows, it breathes, it argues with itself—and in that self-critique, it becomes stronger.
—
The Pedagogy of the Rising Sun
How do you teach a nation to read its own future?
The generation of the book understood that literacy is not merely the ability to decode letters; it is the capacity to decode power. They established schools where none existed—underground classrooms beneath the shade of the Odaa tree, where children learned their mother tongue while the state listened for whispers of sedition. They published pamphlets, newsletters, and eventually, fully-fledged books that laid bare the mechanisms of their oppression and the pathways to their emancipation.
They also taught critical reading. They encouraged their students to question, to cross-reference, to recognize bias in official narratives. They did not want obedient subjects; they wanted sovereign minds—citizens capable of discerning truth from propaganda, justice from ritualized injustice.
In this way, the book became a liberation pedagogy. Every page read, every footnote examined, every historical contradiction exposed, was an act of resistance more potent than any weapon. Because an army can be defeated; a regime can fall; but a generation that knows how to think? That is a force no tyranny can suppress.
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The Living Purpose in Action
Today, we see the fruits of that labor.
In the global forums of human rights advocacy, Oromo intellectuals cite their own traditions of democratic governance to challenge international observers. In the digital corridors of social media, a new generation of Oromo writers, poets, and meme-makers use their ancestors’ wit to dismantle contemporary prejudice. In the universities of the diaspora, students majoring in Oromo studies reclaim a heritage that was once “impractical” and “irrelevant” to Western academia.
The Living Purpose is materialized in the Oromo flag—that trinity of black, red, and white—which is not just a piece of cloth, but a summary of the book they read: black for the land, red for the sacrifice, white for the dawn to come. It is manifested in the Irreechaa festival, where thousands gather to give thanks, not as a ritualistic relic, but as a vibrant, contemporary expression of ecological spirituality.
And it is embodied in the quiet dignity of an Oromo mother who, despite the threat of arrest, teaches her child to say, “Ani Oromoo”—I am Oromo—with the same natural, unbreakable pride with which she breathes.
—
The Unfinished Chapter
Yet, the book is not complete. This generation knows that their task is not finished. The Living Purpose is not a destination; it is an open road.
There are still histories to recover, languages to revive, and systems to redesign. There are still young minds, especially in rural communities, who lack access to the very books that could set them free. There are still regimes that burn libraries and persecute poets, believing that if they destroy the words, they destroy the nation.
But they have already lost. Because the generation of the book has ensured that the words live within the people. No fire can burn a book that has been committed to memory. No censorship can silence a story that is carried on the tongue and passed through the blood.
—
A Final Leaf
As the sun descends over the Oromo homeland, casting its long shadows across the Rift Valley, one can almost hear the turning of pages—the rustle of a billion hopes, inscribed not in ink, but in action.
The generation that read for their nation has set a purpose that will outlive them. They have planted a forest of knowledge, and though they may not sit in its final shade, they have ensured that their children, and their children’s children, will.
They read the book. They understood the mission. And they passed it on—not as a relic, but as a flame.
The pages turn. The purpose lives. And the nation, at last, begins to write its own destiny.
The Personal Cost: What Participation Really Means in the Oromo Struggle
By Daandii Ragabaa
Participation 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. To enter this path without understanding these burdens is not bravery—it is recklessness.
For many young Oromos, the call to action feels almost magnetic. It pulses through social media feeds, echoes in university lecture halls, and reverberates in the whispers of elders who remember previous struggles. The desire for bilisummaa—freedom—burns bright, and rightfully so. But brightness can blind, and passion untempered by preparation can lead to devastation.
The Weight of Knowledge
The informed participant calculates these costs soberly. They do not romanticize martyrdom but prepare for the possibility of sacrifice. This is a critical distinction: one can be willing to sacrifice without seeking suffering. The romanticized image of the revolutionary—defiant, fearless, untouchable—is a dangerous fiction that has shattered too many young lives.
Consider the family left behind when a participant is detained. The mother who cannot sleep. The children who grow up without a parent’s presence. The spouse who must navigate a sudden single-income household. These are not abstractions; they are the daily realities of thousands of Oromo families across Ethiopia and the diaspora.
Building the Foundation
The wise participant builds support networks before they are needed. They identify trusted friends who can act as emergency contacts. They establish communication protocols. They ensure their family understands—to the extent possible—the risks involved. They plan for the psychological and material consequences of their involvement.
This planning is not cowardice. It is the opposite. It is the recognition that the struggle is a marathon, not a sprint. That sustainability matters. That burning out in the first mile serves no one.
Mental health preparation is particularly crucial. Witnessing state violence—whether in person or through graphic videos shared online—leaves scars. The constant hypervigilance, the grief for fallen comrades, the anger that simmers just beneath the surface—these accumulate. Participants who ignore their psychological well-being often find themselves unable to continue when their community needs them most.
The Material Realities
Loss of employment is not a theoretical risk. In Ethiopia, known activists have been dismissed from government positions, blacklisted from private sector jobs, and denied educational opportunities. In the diaspora, there are subtler forms of economic retaliation: lost contracts, strained business relationships, sudden “restructuring” at workplaces.
Financial planning, therefore, becomes an act of resistance. Saving emergency funds. Maintaining skills that remain marketable regardless of political climate. Diversifying income sources. These are not signs of divided loyalty but of strategic thinking.
A Call to Maturity
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. Freedom is not won through impulse but through sustained, strategic, and sober effort.
The Oromo people have endured too much to have their liberation squandered by recklessness. Every arrest, every career lost, every family torn apart—these are not abstract statistics. They are the flesh and blood of the movement. To treat them carelessly is to dishonor their sacrifice.
So before you post that video, before you attend that protest, before you speak those words that cannot be unsaid—pause. Count the cost. Build your support. Prepare your mind. Strengthen your body. And then, with clear eyes and a full heart, decide.
Because the most powerful participants in any struggle are not the ones who act without thinking—they are the ones who think deeply, prepare thoroughly, and then act with unwavering commitment.
That is what participation really means.
If you or someone you know is struggling with the psychological toll of involvement in political activism, please reach out to trusted community supports or mental health professionals. Your wellbeing matters—to your family, your community, and the struggle itself.
The Oromo People of the UK Establish a Lasting Legacy: The Haacaaluu Hundeessaa Foundation
By Maatii Sabaa
In the heart of the United Kingdom, far from the highlands of Oromia, a profound act of remembrance is taking shape. The Oromo community in England, in collaboration with the global Oromo diaspora, has initiated a project that transforms grief into action and memory into a living legacy: the Haacaaluu Hundeessaa Foundation.
Six years after the iconic artist and activist was assassinated in Addis Ababa, his voice refuses to fade. In the UK, members of the diaspora have taken upon themselves the sacred duty of ensuring that his sacrifice was not in vain, carrying forward his mission of cultural preservation, justice, and empowerment.
A Voice Silenced, A Movement Strengthened
Haacaaluu Hundeessaa was more than a musician. His 2015 single Maalan Jira (What Existence Is Mine) became the rallying anthem of the Oromo protests that fundamentally altered Ethiopia’s political landscape . His lyrics captured the pain of displacement, the humiliation of marginalization, and the unyielding pride of a people refusing to disappear .
Born in 1986 in 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, sent shockwaves through the Oromo nation and Ethiopia as a whole, described by one commentator 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. Yet from this tragedy emerged a renewed commitment to Haacaaluu’s vision.
Building the Foundation
The Haacaaluu Hundeessaa Foundation in the UK represents a concrete effort to honor the artist’s legacy through structured, sustainable action. This initiative builds upon similar efforts already underway in Ethiopia—most notably at Jimma University, which established a foundation in his name in 2020 .
Jimma University’s President, Dr. Jemal Abafita, articulated the vision when the foundation was first announced: “Haacaaluu is physically gone from us, but his works remain with us, and his legacy must grow stronger. As an institution of higher learning, we must emerge from this deep grief by remembering his name, making his sacrifice meaningful, and ensuring he occupies a great place in history” .
The UK-based foundation extends this mission to the diaspora, recognizing that the preservation of Oromo culture and the pursuit of justice require both local and international effort.
More Than Remembrance
The Oromo community in the UK has long been active in cultural preservation. Registered charities like the Oromo Community in Brighton & Hove work year-round to provide education in the Oromo language, history, and culture for children, ensuring that the next generation maintains its connection to its heritage .
The Haacaaluu Foundation amplifies these efforts. Its scope—as envisioned by its Ethiopian counterpart—embraces national and international partnership, with a focus on incubating youth talent and sustainably supporting educational initiatives. For the diaspora community, this means creating pathways for young Oromos in the UK to learn their language, understand their history, and engage with the struggle for justice in a meaningful way.
The Digital Bridge
One of the most powerful aspects of Haacaaluu’s legacy preservation has been the digitalization and global distribution of his music. A collaborative effort led by his childhood friend Olii Taammiraat, an ICT expert, ensured that Haacaaluu’s songs were made available on over 150 music platforms worldwide, including iTunes, Amazon Music, Apple Music, and Spotify .
This achievement was remarkable: for seven consecutive days, Haacaaluu’s music topped international charts—a first for any Ethiopian artist . As Olii explained to the BBC, “Haacaaluu was not just a musician; he was the voice of the people. His songs carry history, our wounds, and our hopes. When we lost him, it felt like that voice was stolen from us. We could not let that happen” .
The foundation builds on this work, ensuring that Haacaaluu’s music continues to reach new audiences and inspire new generations.
A Call to the Diaspora
For the Oromo diaspora in the UK, the establishment of the Haacaaluu Hundeessaa Foundation represents a call to action. As community elders in diaspora commemorations have declared, “Haacaaluu gave us a mandate. His blood and his art demand a response from the Oromo people. We must respond to his sacrifice by vigorously demanding our inalienable rights” .
The foundation provides a structured vehicle for that response—a way to channel grief into action, memory into mission, and cultural pride into political advocacy. The Oromo community in the UK, like their counterparts in New Zealand, Nairobi, and across the world, are proving that while the man may be gone, the movement he inspired is more alive than ever .
Conclusion
The Haacaaluu Hundeessaa Foundation, as envisioned by the Oromo people of England and their partners, is a testament to the enduring power of art and the unbreakable spirit of a people. It is not merely a monument to a fallen hero but a living institution dedicated to the values he embodied: cultural pride, justice, and the relentless pursuit of freedom.
As Haacaaluu’s 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” . In the United Kingdom, that promise is being kept—not through words alone, but through the concrete, sustainable work of a foundation built in his name.
The struggle continues. And with it, Haacaaluu’s voice—carried by the Oromo people of the UK and the global diaspora—refuses to be silenced.
For more information about the Haacaaluu Hundeessaa Foundation and ways to support its work, contact the Oromo Community in Brighton & Hove at 42 Manor Way, Brighton, BN2 5EF.
The Unconquerable Equal: What an Ancient Oromo Proverb Teaches Us About Power and Humanity
In the quiet rhythms of Oromo tradition, nestled within the democratic folds of the Gadaa system, lies a proverb of profound audacity:
“Akka sirna Gadaatti namni kamuu namummaan nama kaan hin caalu; namni hundi walqixxee dha.”
Translated, it declares: “In the Gadaa system, no one is superior to another by virtue of humanity; all people are equal.”
To the modern ear, it might sound like a simple platitude, a nod to a universal truth we all claim to hold. But to understand this saying is to discover a revolutionary blueprint for society that challenges the very foundations of power as we know it.
The Wellspring of Equality
The Gadaa system is not merely a historical relic; it is a living, breathing indigenous democratic practice of the Oromo people. For centuries, it has served as a socio-political and religious framework, organizing society not by brute force, inherited status, or accumulated wealth, but by age and demonstrated wisdom.
Every eight years, power transfers peacefully from one generation to the next. This is not a coup, not an election marred by mudslinging, but a ceremony. It is a ritualized passing of the baton that ensures no single individual, family, or clan can amass permanent control.
It is from this system that the proverb springs. It declares a foundational truth: your humanity is your only title. Not your lineage, not your cattle, not your military might. Your namummaa—your essential humanness—is the only metric that truly matters.
Beyond Hierarchy: The Oromo Challenge
In a world obsessed with hierarchies—the CEO above the intern, the president above the citizen, the celebrity above the fan—this Oromo worldview is a radical act of defiance. It suggests that all constructed pecking orders are fragile illusions.
The proverb is a shield against arrogance and a sword against oppression. If a leader believes themselves inherently superior, they have already violated the Gadaa principle. The system demands that leaders, the Abba Gadaa, are not tyrants but servants of the collective will. Their authority is functional, not intrinsic. It is a role, not a birthright.
This is where the proverb resonates deeply with modern democratic ideals. It prefigures the Enlightenment concept of equality by centuries. It echoes the words of revolutionaries and civil rights leaders who insisted that the color of skin, the gender of the body, or the nation of one’s birth do not define the worth of the soul.
The Unseen Thread of Connection
But perhaps the most profound implication of “all people are equal” is not political, but spiritual and social. It binds the community together with a thread of mutual responsibility.
If we are all equal, then the welfare of my neighbor is as important as my own. My success is not a victory over another, but a contribution to the collective whole. This is the bedrock of Gadaa governance—a system that relies on consensus, dialogue, and a shared sense of duty. It fosters a society where status is earned through service and character, not through aggression or accumulation.
A Lost Compass for a Troubled World
As we navigate the 21st century—beset by inequality, systemic injustice, and the cult of personality—the wisdom of the Oromo ancestors offers a compass. The proverb “Akka sirna Gadaatti…” is a challenge to the status quo.
It calls us to look beyond the titles on our business cards and the zeros in our bank accounts. It urges us to see the sacred, unassailable equality in the eyes of every stranger we meet.
Because in the end, the Gadaa system reminds us of a simple truth we so often forget: before we are kings, laborers, rich, or poor, we are simply human. And in that shared humanity, we are all—always and forever—equal.
Advocacy for Oromia 