By Maatii Sabaa

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In the wake of a recent interview with Biqilaa Amanuu, a storm of interpretation has swept through Oromo intellectual circles. The subject? A word that carries the weight of centuries: gabrummaa.

To the casual observer, the translation seems straightforward. “Slavery.” “Enslavement.” A direct, uncomplicated rendering into English that fits neatly into Western frameworks of oppression. But as Asebe Regassa provocatively argues, this superficial translation does profound violence to the concept’s true meaning—and, more critically, misdirects our understanding of what the Oromo struggle has always been about.

The Misinterpretation That Misses the Mark

Following the interview, many commentators rushed to frame the discussion within a familiar narrative: Oromos were sold as slaves under Menelik’s system. They wrote it boldly, confidently, reducing a complex historical reality to a single, devastating equation. And while the historical record does indeed document the exploitation of Oromo peoples during that period, Regassa insists that this framing fundamentally misunderstands both the nature of the system and the nature of the resistance.

“The history is true,” Regassa acknowledges, “but the struggle against gabrummaa and the system of gabrummaa is not that.”

What Regassa identifies is a dangerous reductionism—the tendency of both scholars and activists to reach for the most emotionally resonant translation without interrogating whether that translation captures the full scope of what gabrummaa actually represents. The result, as he notes, has been confusion and controversy among those who engaged with the interview.

Unpacking the Concept: More Than Chains and Whips

So what does gabrummaa truly mean?

Regassa is unequivocal: “Gabrummaa does not mean enslavement/slavery. Enslavement is only a rough and direct translation.”

Instead, gabrummaa encompasses something far more systematic and insidious—”subjugation, servitude, and being kept under the yoke of oppression.” This is not merely a semantic distinction. It is a fundamental reorientation of how we understand both historical injustice and contemporary struggle.

Slavery implies a particular legal and social status—the ownership of one human being by another. It conjures images of chains, auctions, and plantations. But gabrummaa speaks to an entire architecture of domination: political, economic, cultural, and psychological. It is a system designed not merely to exploit but to subjugate, to render entire peoples subordinate through structures that penetrate every aspect of existence.

The General’s Vision: Dismantling the System

General Waaqoo Guutuu’s powerful declaration illuminates this distinction: “Gabrummaa iddaan buqqifna yoo dadhabne ilmaan itti guddifna”—”We shall dismantle gabrummaa at its place; if we fail, we shall raise our children upon it.”

When Regassa interprets this statement, he insists: the General was not speaking of ending slavery in the narrow sense. He was speaking of dismantling an oppressive system—a comprehensive project that requires nothing less than decolonizing the entire structure of power to emancipate the people from such subjugation.

This is a revolutionary vision, not a reformist one. It recognizes that gabrummaa is not a historical aberration or a set of discrete injustices that can be addressed piecemeal. It is a total system that demands total transformation. To merely end chattel slavery while leaving the underlying structures of subjugation intact would be to mistake the symptom for the disease.

The Intellectual Burden

Regassa’s reflection carries a pointed challenge for those who study Oromo history and society: “Warri ogbarruu Oromoo qorattanimmoo yaada itti kennaa, ulfaadhaa!”—”For those who study Oromo affairs, pay attention to this: it is weighty!”

The weight he speaks of is both intellectual and ethical. It is the burden of getting it right—of refusing the easy translation that flattens complexity, of resisting the temptation to map Oromo experience onto Western categories of oppression that may not fully apply. It is the responsibility of scholars and commentators to engage with the full richness of Oromo concepts rather than reducing them to the most convenient English equivalent.

This is not academic navel-gazing. The distinction between slavery and subjugation has real-world implications for how movements organize, how demands are articulated, and how the ultimate goals of liberation are conceived. A movement that aims only to end slavery might fight for legal reforms. A movement that aims to dismantle gabrummaa must fight to transform everything.

A Call for Deeper Engagement

Regassa’s intervention is ultimately a call for deeper engagement—with language, with history, and with the lived experience of Oromo people across generations. It is a reminder that the most powerful concepts resist easy translation, that the struggle for liberation is not served by reaching for the most familiar vocabulary but by insisting on the specificity and integrity of Oromo thought.

The controversy sparked by the interview was, in Regassa’s analysis, born of this very failure—the attempt by both interviewer and subject to explain gabrummaa through its most superficial rendering, generating confusion among audiences who deserved better.

As Oromo intellectual traditions continue to develop and engage with global conversations about justice, liberation, and decolonization, Regassa’s reflection stands as a crucial reminder: the words we use matter. The translations we choose shape the struggles we imagine. And the most profound acts of resistance may begin not with protests or declarations, but with the patient, painstaking work of getting the meaning right.

Gabrummaa is not slavery. It is something more fundamental, more encompassing, and more challenging to uproot. And recognizing that distinction may be the first step toward the genuine emancipation that General Waaqoo Guutuu envisioned—the dismantling of the entire oppressive system, at its very place.

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This article draws from Asebe Regassa’s reflections on the meaning of gabrummaa and its implications for Oromo historical understanding and contemporary struggle.