A vibrant ceremony of remembrance, cultural pride, and unwavering commitment to the Oromo liberation struggle. Special Feature News – St. Paul, Minnesota DATELINE: ST. PAUL, MINNESOTA – APRIL 2026 The city of St. Paul, home to one of the largest Oromo diaspora communities in the United States, witnessed a powerful and moving celebration this week […]
From the coffee shops of Dire Dawa to the battlefields of Carcar – the story of the wealthy trader who gave everything for the Oromo cause.
A Feature Story – Oromo History, Resistance, and Sacrifice
PROLOGUE: A NAME WHISPERED IN REVERENCE
In the city of Galamsoo – a place steeped in history, a land of memory – there was once a man named Ahmad Taqii.
To those who knew him well, he was called Hundee.
He was not a soldier by training. He was not a politician by profession. He was, by trade, a businessman – a man of wealth, a man of property, a man who could have lived comfortably, quietly, safely.
But history does not always choose the obvious heroes. Sometimes, it reaches into the marketplace, into the coffee shop, into the ordinary life – and calls forth the extraordinary.
Hundee answered that call.
He gave his wealth. He gave his time. He gave his connections. And in the end, he gave his life.
This is his story. It is a story of courage, of conspiracy, of secret meetings and midnight escapes. It is a story of how a merchant from Galamsoo became a pillar of the Oromo liberation struggle – and how, in the end, he paid the ultimate price.
Supporter and active participant in the Oromo liberation struggle
Era
Early to mid-1970s (pre-revolutionary Ethiopia)
Fate
Killed in battle or executed; body paraded through Galamsoo to break the people’s spirit
Hundee was not a poor man. He was not an outsider or a marginal figure. He was a man of means, a man of standing. He had everything to lose – and yet, he chose to risk it all.
Why?
Because, as the original text suggests, his wealth became a tool for liberation. He used what he had to support Oromo patriots, to fund resistance, to build networks. He did not hoard his fortune. He invested it in freedom.
PART TWO: THE MANY FACES OF HUNDEE – A LIFE OF CONNECTIONS
Hundee was not a one-dimensional figure. He moved through many worlds.
The Businessman
“Daldalaaf gaafa Finfinnee bahu nama hunda dura sirboota qabsoo kan Ali Birraan sirbaman dhandhamu qofa osoo hin taane…” “When he left Addis Ababa for business, it was not only to hear the revolutionary songs of Ali Birra first…”
Ali Birra – the legendary Oromo singer whose music became the anthem of Oromo consciousness – was more than entertainment. His songs carried the hopes and pains of a people. Hundee, the businessman, made sure he was there, listening, connecting, understanding the mood of his people.
The Political Activist
“…walgahii waldaa Maccaa fi Tulamaa itti hirmaatee nama haasawa Haylmariyam Gammadaa dhagahuuf carraa argate ture.” “…he participated in the meetings of the Maca and Tulama association and had the opportunity to hear the speeches of Haylmariyam Gammadaa.”
The Maca and Tulama association was a crucial Oromo political organization. Hundee was there – not as a spectator, but as a participant. He listened. He learned. He committed himself to the cause.
The Young Man in Dire Dawa
“Isaa dargaggummaa qabu gaafa buna gurguruuf Dire Dawa dhaqaa ture nama jaarmaya hawwiiso Afran Qalloo hordofuu qofa osoo hin taane nama dinagdeen gargaaraa ture.” “In his youth, when he went to Dire Dawa to sell coffee, he was not only someone who followed the Afran Qalloo organization – he was someone whose wealth supported them.”
Even in his youth, Hundee understood that money was power. He used his resources to support Oromo organizations when such support was dangerous.
The Radio Listener
“Bara 1973 gaafa dura Raadiyoon Harar qilleensarra oolu kaasee…” “In 1973, before the radio waves of Radio Harar went silent…”
He listened. He stayed informed. He knew what was happening in the region, in Somalia, in the broader Horn of Africa. This knowledge would prove crucial.
The Networker
“Hundeen yeroo daldalaaf magaala Harar dhaqu mana Abubaker Muussaatii fi mana Artistii hangafa Abdii Qophee hanqate hinbeeku.” “When Hundee went to Harar for business, he never missed the house of Abubaker Muusaa or the house of the great artist Abdii Qophee.”
He built relationships. He cultivated allies. He understood that liberation required more than weapons – it required trust, friendship, and shared purpose.
The Ubiquitous Presence
“Hundumaafuu yeroo san keessatti iddoo dhimmi Oromoo jiru hunda Hundeen nijira yoo jannee irra salphaadha.” “For all of that, it is not an exaggeration to say: wherever the Oromo cause was present in that era, Hundee was there.”
This is the summary of his life. He was everywhere. He was always present. He never missed a meeting, an opportunity, a chance to serve.
PART THREE: THE GENERAL – HUNDEE’S CONNECTION TO TADDASAA BIRRU
One of the most significant relationships in Hundee’s life was with General Taddasaa Birru – a towering figure in Oromo military and political history.
The Context of 1974
By 1974, Ethiopia was in turmoil. The Derg had not yet fully consolidated power, but the old imperial order was crumbling. General Taddasaa Birru – an Oromo patriot and military leader – was imprisoned in Galamsoo.
“Ganaraal Taaddassaa Birruu yeroo san hidhaa dhaabataa magaalaa Galamsootti hidhamee guyyaa guyyaa magaala keessa sosohus basaastuun mootummaadha miilla miila isaa jala waan hordoofaa turaniif…” “General Taddasaa Birru was imprisoned in the Galamsoo detention center. He was walked through the city daily, with state informants following his every step…”
A Trust Forged in Adversity
Despite the surveillance, Hundee and General Taddasaa found ways to communicate. Hundee, with his wealth and connections, could obtain information that the General could not. A mutual trust grew between them – a bond that would shape the course of Oromo resistance.
“Yeroo hedduu jeneraal Taddasaan odeeffannoo adda addaa wan gama hundeetiin argachaa tureef jecha jeneraal Taddasaa fi Hundee jidduu wal amantiin guddachaa dufte.” “Because General Taddasaa was receiving various information from Hundee’s side, the mutual trust between them grew stronger and stronger.”
The Plan to Escape
Hundee promised the General: “I will get you to Addis Ababa.”
He had the means. He had the connections. He had the will.
But then – something changed.
PART FOUR: THE SHEIKH – HOW SHEIKH BAKRII SAPHALOO CHANGED EVERYTHING
The Arrival in Galamsoo
Sheikh Bakrii Saphaloo – a name that carries its own weight in Oromo and Somali history – arrived in Galamsoo. He came to the house of Sheikh Muhammad Rashid Bilaal (the father of Hundee).
The connection was deep. Sheikh Bakrii had studied with Sheikh Umar Aliyyee Balableeyti – the same teacher under whom the family of Sheikh Muhammad Rashid Bilaal had studied. There was a long history of scholarship and mutual respect.
The Meeting
Hundee and Sheikh Bakrii Saphaloo sat together. They talked. They debated. They planned.
Sheikh Bakrii brought news: Somalia was changing. The political situation there was volatile, but also potentially supportive of Oromo liberation efforts.
The original plan – to move General Taddasaa to Addis Ababa – was reconsidered.
Sheikh Bakrii proposed an alternative: Move the General to Mogadishu.
The Shift
Hundee listened. He trusted Sheikh Bakrii’s assessment. He agreed.
The plan changed. The destination was no longer Addis Ababa – it was Mogadishu, Somalia.
PART FIVE: THE ESCAPE – HUNDEE AND THE GENERAL ON THE RUN
The Breakout
In February 1974 (Bitootessa 1974), General Taddasaa Birru escaped from detention in Galamsoo.
“Ganaraal Taaddasaa Birru mana hidharraa badee Galamsoorraa ka’ee miilaan Bookeen, Saaqataan godhe magaalaa Harar seene.” “General Taddasaa Birru escaped from prison. From Galamsoo, he traveled on foot – using a book as a saddle, making a rope from a sack – and entered the city of Harar.”
But the state’s informants were relentless. In Harar, he was recaptured and returned to Galamsoo.
The New Plan
The authorities in Addis Ababa had learned of the plan to move the General to Mogadishu. That route was now compromised.
A new plan emerged – this time led by Hundee.
“Ji’a Ebla 1974 keessa Hundeen, Jenaraal Taaddasaa Birruu akka qotee bulaa fakkeessuun marxoo itti uffisee imaamata mataa isattii maruudhaan halkan keessa Finfinnee geesse.” “In April 1974, Hundee disguised General Taddasaa Birru as a farmer – wrapping a turban around his head, dressing him in a farmer’s cloak – and smuggled him through the night to Addis Ababa.”
It was a daring operation. Hundee risked everything – his wealth, his freedom, his life – to get the General to safety.
PART SIX: THE MEETING WITH ELEMO – THE STRUGGLE TAKES SHAPE
The Meeting in Addis Ababa
In May 1974 (Caamsaa 1974), Hundee met Elemoo Qilxuu in Addis Ababa.
Elemoo was a key figure in the emerging Oromo armed struggle. At that time, he was guarding the Kara Affaari route – but the armed struggle had not yet officially begun.
The Decision
Hundee and Elemoo traveled together to Galamsoo. They assessed the situation. They made a decision:
“Gubbaa Qorichaa akka madheeffatan murteessanii…” “They decided that Gubbaa Qorichaa would be their base…”
Hundee pledged his wealth and his life to the struggle. He promised to stand with the resistance.
They parted ways – but their paths would cross again.
PART SEVEN: THE TRAGEDY – ARREST, ESCAPE, AND DEATH
The Arrest
In July 1974 (Waxabajjii 1974), Elemoo Qilxuu and 19 others began the armed struggle at Gubbaa Qorichaa. They had killed a landlord named Mulaatuu Tegegn.
The state responded with fury. The bodies of Mulaatuu Tegegn were paraded through Galamsoo – a gruesome display meant to terrify the population.
Suspicion fell on Hundee. His connection to General Taddasaa Birru was known. He was arrested.
The Escape
But Hundee was not a man who waited for death.
“Hundeen mana hidhaa keessa taa’ee waa’ee Elemoofaa waan hordoofa tureef hiree argatteetti fayyadamudhaan mana hidhaatii badee gaara Bubbee dhaquudhaan Elemoofaatti makamee.” “While sitting in prison, Hundee continued to follow news of Elemoo. Using an opportunity that came to him, he escaped from prison, went to Mount Bubbee, and joined Elemoo’s forces.”
He had escaped the state’s cage. He was now a fighter.
PART EIGHT: THE BATTLE OF CARCAR – THE END OF A HERO
The Clash
On October 6, 1974 (Fulbaana 6, 1974), the forces of the state and the forces of Elemoo Qilxuu met at Carcar Xirroo.
Hundee was there. He was not a professional soldier. He was a merchant who had become a fighter. But he did not hide. He did not flee.
The Death
“Hundeen osoo inni offirraa hin eegin tasa isaa goojjoo keessa jiru ajjeefamuus…” “Before he could protect himself, suddenly, he was killed – shot while he was in a trench…”
He died not as a wealthy man, not as a merchant, but as a soldier – in a trench, facing the enemy, fighting for his people.
The Aftermath
The state wanted to break the spirit of Galamsoo. They took Hundee’s body – the body of a respected merchant, a beloved figure – and put it on a vehicle.
“Hundee ajjeefamuu amanuu dadhabanii ummata naannoo Galamsoo abdii murachiisuu dhaaf reefka isaa konkolaataa irra kaayanii magaalaa keessa naanneessaa turan.” “Those who could not believe that Hundee had been killed – to crush the hope of the people of Galamsoo – put his body on a vehicle and paraded it through the city.”
They wanted the people to see. They wanted the people to despair. They wanted the people to understand: This is what happens to those who resist.
But they did not understand the Oromo people.
Parading a martyr’s body does not crush hope. It plants seeds.
PART NINE: THE PHOTOGRAPH – A FACE, A LEGACY, A SACRIFICE
The photograph that accompanies this story – a historical image of immense value – was taken by Obbo Abdallaa Alii (also known by his nickname, Abdallaa Footoo).
The Photographer
Obbo Abdallaa Alii risked everything to capture this image. He hid from the enemy for years, preserving this visual record of Oromo history. He understood that images matter – that a photograph can outlive empires, that a face can inspire generations.
His Fate
For taking this photograph, for preserving this history, for refusing to let the Oromo struggle be erased – Obbo Abdallaa Alii was killed by the state.
He died for a photograph. He died for history. He died so that we, today, could see the face of a hero and remember.
“Obbo Abdallaa Aliin sababa suraa kana kaasuu fi bara dheeraaf diina jalaa dhoksee seenaaf nuuf kaahuuf jecha mootummaa dargiitiin ajjeefame.” “Obbo Abdallaa Alii was killed by the state’s cruelty for taking this photograph and for hiding from the enemy for years to preserve history for us.”
PART TEN: THE LEGACY – WHAT HUNDEE REPRESENTS
Hundee was not a general. He was not a famous intellectual. He was not a politician with a grand vision.
He was a merchant – a man who sold coffee, who traveled for business, who had a house and property and wealth.
And yet, he became a pillar of the Oromo liberation struggle.
What His Life Teaches Us
Lesson
Meaning
Wealth is a tool
What you have can be used for liberation – not just for comfort
Connections matter
Hundee’s network – from Ali Birra to Sheikh Bakrii to General Taddasaa – was essential
Courage is contagious
One person’s bravery can inspire others
Sacrifice is necessary
Freedom is not free; someone must pay the price
The struggle continues
Even after death, martyrs inspire the living
What His Death Teaches Us
The state paraded his body through Galamsoo. They thought they were demonstrating their power.
Instead, they demonstrated their cruelty – and created a martyr whose memory would outlast their regime.
“Hunda isaanii jannataan Rabbiin haa qananiisu. Qabsoo isaan irratti wareegaman galmaan haa gahu Jenna.” “May God grant all of them paradise. May the struggle for which they sacrificed reach its goal. Amen.”
CONCLUSION: THE MERCHANT WHO BECAME A MARTYR
Ahmad Taqii – Hundee – lived a life that defies easy categorization.
He was wealthy, but he gave his wealth away. He was a businessman, but he became a fighter. He was a family man, but he left his family for the cause. He was captured, but he escaped. He was killed, but he lives.
His body was paraded through the streets of Galamsoo – but his spirit walked free.
His photograph, preserved at great risk by a photographer who was also killed, remains as a testament: This man existed. This man fought. This man died for Oromia.
And because of that, he will never be forgotten.
FINAL TRIBUTE
To Hundee – the merchant of Galamsoo, the smuggler of generals, the fighter of Carcar, the martyr of the Oromo cause: You gave what you had. You risked what you owned. You paid the ultimate price. May the earth rest lightly upon you. May God grant you paradise. And may the Oromo struggle – for which you gave everything – one day reach its goal.
“He was a merchant. He became a martyr. His body was paraded through Galamsoo – but his name was paraded through history. And history, unlike regimes, does not forget.”
Waaqni hundee haa rahmate. May God have mercy on Hundee.
Waaqni Abdallaa Alii haa rahmate. May God have mercy on Abdallaa Alii.
Waaqni qabsoo Oromoo haa eegu. May God protect the Oromo struggle.
Qabsoon isaan irratti wareegaman galmaan haa gahu. May the struggle for which they sacrificed reach its goal.
Tortured for his Oromo identity, scarred for life, yet still standing – Hussein Ahmed embodies the price of resistance and the resilience of a people.
A Feature Story – Human Rights, Resistance, and Unbreakable Will
PROLOGUE: A PHOTOGRAPH THAT SPEAKS VOLUMES
The image is stark. It is painful. It is necessary.
Taken on April 15, 2026 (Ebla 15, GGWO), the photograph captures a man who has been broken by the state – but not defeated. His body bears the evidence of cruelty. His eyes carry the weight of suffering. And yet, he stands.
This is Jaal Hussein Ahmed.
He is a fighter for the Oromo cause. He is a man who paid for his Oromummaa (Oromo identity) with his own flesh. He was tortured in Huurso – forced to carry 70 kilograms of stone on his back until his body was permanently disfigured.
Today, even now, he is described as someone who “walks as if broken” – leaning, limping, carrying forever the physical memory of what was done to him.
But he walks. He still walks. He still stands. He still fights.
This feature article tells his story – not as a tragedy, but as a testament. A testament to the brutality of oppression. And a testament to the unbreakable spirit of those who refuse to bow.
PART ONE: THE MAN – WHO IS JAAL HUSSEIN AHMED?
Fact
Detail
Name
Jaal Hussein Ahmed
Identity
Oromo patriot, political activist, prisoner of conscience
Affiliation
Oromo liberation movement (exact affiliation not specified in available record)
Known For
Enduring extreme torture for his Oromo identity; surviving; continuing the struggle
Current Status
Living – “still in the struggle”
Jaal Hussein Ahmed is not a general. He is not a politician. He is not a wealthy man or a famous figure. He is, by most measures, an ordinary Oromo – except for one thing: he refused to deny who he was.
And for that refusal, the state made him pay.
PART TWO: THE TORTURE – HUURSO AND THE 70 KILOGRAM STONE
The Location: Huurso
Huurso is a name that strikes fear into the hearts of many Oromos. It is associated with detention, interrogation, and systematic torture – a place where the state has, for years, attempted to break the bodies and spirits of those who dare to demand Oromo rights.
The Method: Carrying Stone
The torture inflicted on Jaal Hussein Ahmed was not subtle. It was not psychological warfare or sleep deprivation or the more “sophisticated” methods of modern interrogation.
It was primitive. It was brutal. It was physical.
“Nama Oromummaa isaan yakkamee Huursotti Dhagaa 70 KG dugdatti fe’uun qaamaa hir’isanii dha.” *”He was accused of Oromummaa (Oromo identity/nationalism). In Huurso, they made him carry a 70 KG stone on his back, and in doing so, they mutilated his body.”*
Seventy kilograms. That is roughly the weight of an adult human. That is more than many people can lift, let alone carry on their backs.
And he was made to carry it – not for a moment, not for a minute – but as an act of torture designed to break his spine, to crush his organs, to destroy his body so completely that he would never again be able to stand up straight.
The Result: Permanent Disfigurement
The torture worked – not in breaking his spirit, but in breaking his body.
Today, Jaal Hussein Ahmed walks “as if broken” (“akka cabanitti hokkolan”). He leans. He limps. His back, once straight, now carries the permanent memory of the stone. His body is a living archive of state cruelty.
But he is alive. And he is still standing.
PART THREE: THE MEANING OF TORTURE – WHAT THE STATE TRIED TO DO
The Purpose of Torture
Torture is never random. It is never merely about inflicting pain. Torture has specific political purposes:
Purpose
How It Was Applied to Jaal Hussein Ahmed
Punishment
Punishing him for his Oromo identity and political beliefs
Deterrence
Sending a message to other Oromos: “This is what happens to those who resist”
Confession extraction
Attempting to force him to renounce his Oromummaa or inform on others
Dehumanization
Reducing a proud man to a broken body, to show that the state has power over everything
Erasure
Trying to destroy not just the individual, but what he represents
Why They Failed
The state succeeded in breaking Jaal Hussein Ahmed’s body. They did not succeed in breaking his spirit.
He did not renounce his identity. He did not betray his comrades. He did not stop fighting.
The torture ended. The pain remained. But the man – the Oromo patriot – continued.
That is the failure of torture. It can destroy flesh. It cannot destroy conviction.
PART FOUR: THE PHOTOGRAPH – APRIL 15, 2026
The photograph mentioned in the original text is dated April 15, 2026 (Ebla 15, GGWO).
It is a recent image. It shows Jaal Hussein Ahmed not as a young man at the peak of his physical strength, but as a survivor – bearing the marks of what was done to him decades ago.
What the Photograph Shows
Element
What It Conveys
His posture
Bent, leaning, “as if broken” – the permanent legacy of the 70 KG stone
His face
Worn, aged by suffering, but not defeated
His eyes
Still alive. Still watching. Still resisting.
His presence
Still standing. Still here. Still fighting.
The Power of the Image
A photograph of a tortured man is not easy to look at. It demands something of the viewer: discomfort, empathy, recognition of shared humanity.
But the photograph of Jaal Hussein Ahmed is not merely a document of suffering. It is a document of survival.
It says: They tried to destroy me. I am still here.
It says: The Oromo struggle is not a slogan. It is written on bodies like mine.
It says: Do not look away.
PART FIVE: THE BROADER CONTEXT – TORTURE AS STATE POLICY
Jaal Hussein Ahmed is not alone. His story is one among thousands.
The Pattern of Torture in Ethiopia
Human rights organizations have documented systematic torture in Ethiopian detention facilities for decades. Methods include:
Method
Description
Beatings
With fists, batons, cables, and rifle butts
Suspension
Hanging prisoners by their wrists or ankles for hours or days
Electric shock
Applied to sensitive areas of the body
Burning
With cigarettes, hot metal, or chemicals
Sexual violence
Rape and genital mutilation
Weight-bearing torture
Forcing prisoners to carry heavy loads, as in Jaal Hussein Ahmed’s case
The Target: Oromo Identity
What makes Jaal Hussein Ahmed’s case particularly significant is the stated reason for his torture: Oromummaa – Oromo identity.
He was not accused of a crime. He was not charged with murder, theft, or violence. He was accused of being Oromo – of identifying with his people, of believing in Oromo rights, of refusing to assimilate into a state that has historically sought to erase Oromo distinctiveness.
This is not torture for a specific act. This is torture for identity.
And that is a crime against humanity.
PART SIX: THE SURVIVOR – LIFE AFTER TORTURE
Walking “As If Broken”
The phrase “akka cabanitti hokkolan” – “he walks as if broken” – is heartbreaking in its simplicity.
Every step Jaal Hussein Ahmed takes is a step of pain. Every movement reminds him of what was done to him. He cannot stand straight. He cannot run. He cannot carry heavy loads. He cannot forget.
And yet, he walks. He still walks.
The Psychological Toll
Torture does not only damage the body. It damages the mind.
Psychological Effect
How It May Manifest
Post-traumatic stress
Nightmares, flashbacks, hypervigilance
Depression
Hopelessness, withdrawal, loss of joy
Anxiety
Constant fear, difficulty trusting others
Chronic pain
Physical pain that never ends, affecting mental health
Jaal Hussein Ahmed likely carries these invisible wounds as well. And yet, he is described as someone who is “still in the struggle” (“namni qabsoorra jiruu dha”).
He is not just surviving. He is still fighting.
PART SEVEN: THE STRUGGLE – CARRIED ON THE BACKS OF THE BROKEN
“Qabsoon Oromoo namoota akka isaa kanaan tikfamee as gahe.” “The Oromo struggle has been carried forward by people like him, preserved and brought this far.”
This is a profound statement. It acknowledges a difficult truth:
The Oromo liberation movement has not been carried forward by the healthy, the comfortable, the powerful. It has been carried forward by the broken – by those who have been beaten, imprisoned, tortured, exiled, and killed.
They are the ones who have paid the price. They are the ones who have refused to give up. They are the ones who have ensured that the struggle continues from one generation to the next.
Jaal Hussein Ahmed is one of those people. His broken body is a foundation stone of Oromo resistance.
The Debt of Gratitude
Every Oromo who enjoys any measure of cultural freedom, political space, or linguistic recognition today owes a debt to people like Jaal Hussein Ahmed.
He did not benefit. He suffered. He did not grow rich. He was broken. He did not receive awards. He received stones.
And yet, because of him – and thousands like him – the Oromo cause remains alive.
PART EIGHT: THE QUESTION OF JUSTICE
What Has Been Done to Jaal Hussein Ahmed?
He was tortured.
His body was permanently disfigured.
His health was destroyed.
His life was shortened by years of suffering.
What Has Been Done to His Torturers?
Unknown. Likely nothing. In Ethiopia, as in many countries, torturers rarely face consequences. They are protected by their superiors, by the system, by a culture of impunity.
What Justice Would Require
Action
Why It Is Necessary
Investigation
Identify who ordered and carried out the torture
Prosecution
Bring torturers to trial, under Ethiopian and international law
Compensation
Provide medical care, financial support, and official acknowledgment to Jaal Hussein Ahmed
Memorialization
Ensure that his story – and the stories of others – are recorded and remembered
Systemic reform
End torture as a tool of state policy
None of these have happened. Yet.
PART NINE: THE SYMBOL – WHAT JAAL HUSSEIN AHMED REPRESENTS
Jaal Hussein Ahmed is one man. But he is also a symbol.
He Represents
Meaning
The cost of Oromummaa
Oromo identity is not free; it has been paid for in blood and broken bodies
The cruelty of the state
The Ethiopian state has used torture systematically against Oromo patriots
The resilience of resistance
Torture can break bodies; it cannot break spirits
The debt owed by the living
Current generations stand on the shoulders of the tortured
The unfinished struggle
As long as men like Jaal Hussein Ahmed are not healed, the struggle is not over
He is not a hero in the conventional sense – not a warrior with medals, not a speaker with crowds. He is a hero in the deeper sense: a man who suffered and did not break.
PART TEN: A CALL TO ACTION
The story of Jaal Hussein Ahmed demands a response.
For the Oromo People
Know his name. Do not let him be forgotten.
Honor his sacrifice. Acknowledge that your freedom – however limited – was paid for by people like him.
Continue the struggle. Do not let his suffering be in vain.
Care for the wounded. Torture survivors need medical care, psychological support, and community.
For Human Rights Organizations
Document his case. Add his testimony to the record of state torture.
Advocate for justice. Demand investigation and prosecution of his torturers.
Provide support. Medical, legal, and psychological assistance.
For the International Community
Condemn torture. Not in general statements, but in specific cases like this.
Apply pressure. Use diplomatic and economic leverage to demand accountability.
Support survivors. Fund programs for torture rehabilitation.
CONCLUSION: THE BROKEN WHO STAND
Jaal Hussein Ahmed was made to carry 70 kilograms of stone on his back. His body was permanently disfigured. He walks today “as if broken.”
But he walks.
He still stands. He still fights. He is still here.
The Oromo struggle has been carried forward on the backs of the broken. Jaal Hussein Ahmed is one of those backs – bent, scarred, but still bearing the weight of hope.
The photograph taken on April 15, 2026, shows a man who has been through hell and emerged – not unscathed, but unvanquished.
Let that image be seared into the memory of all who see it.
Let his name be spoken with reverence.
Let his torturers be named – and one day, judged.
And let the Oromo people remember: freedom is not free. It is paid for by people like Jaal Hussein Ahmed.
FINAL TRIBUTE
To Jaal Hussein Ahmed: You carried the stone. You bore the weight. You lost the straightness of your back but not the strength of your spirit. We see you. We honor you. We will not forget what was done to you – and we will not stop fighting until justice is done.
“They broke his back. They could not break his will. He walks as if broken – but he walks. And as long as he walks, the struggle walks with him.”
Waaqni jireenya kee haa eegu. May God protect your life.
Waaqni qaama kee haa fayyisu. May God heal your body.
Waaqni qabsoo Oromoo haa eegu. May God protect the Oromo struggle.
In an age of opportunists and betrayals, the OLF chairman stands as a rare monument to steadfastness, wisdom, and unwavering loyalty to the Oromo people.
A Feature Story – By Maatii Sabaa-Political Tribute & Reflection
PROLOGUE: WHEN THE WIND CHANGES DIRECTION
History has a cruel habit of exposing people when the wind shifts. When power is secure and the future seems certain, the crowd is full of loyalists. Everyone claims to have been there from the beginning. Everyone offers their hand, their voice, their allegiance.
But when the storms come—when the powerful turn their backs, when the path becomes narrow and dangerous, when loyalty becomes a liability rather than an asset—that is when the real ones are revealed.
That is when the pretenders scatter like leaves before a gale.
And that is when a rare few stand firm.
Jaal Dawud Ibsa is one of those rare few.
As Chairman of the Oromo Liberation Front (OLF)—a movement that has carried the weight of Oromo aspirations for half a century—Dawud Ibsa has witnessed the full spectrum of human character: the brave and the cowardly, the faithful and the treacherous, the steadfast and the fleeting.
And in an era when many in power turned their backs on the Oromo people, when former allies bartered their loyalty for personal gain, when the currency of betrayal flowed freely—Jaal Dawud Ibsa did not move.
He stood.
He stands.
And he will continue to stand.
PART ONE: THE FATHER WHO DOES NOT FLEE
“When many in power turned their backs, you stood unshaken beside your people, as a father stands, steadfast and true, never wavering in his duty.”
The Image of Fatherhood
There is a particular kind of courage that belongs to fatherhood. Not the courage of battle—though that has its place. But the courage of presence. The courage of staying when staying is hard. The courage of standing between danger and those who depend on you.
A father does not flee when the house catches fire. A father does not abandon his children when the enemies gather at the gate. A father does not negotiate away the future of his family for personal comfort.
Jaal Dawud Ibsa has been that kind of father to the Oromo people.
Not because he sought the title. Not because he craved the attention. But because when the moment came—when many in power turned their backs on the Oromo cause—he simply refused to leave.
The Turning of Backs
The history of the Oromo struggle is littered with fair-weather friends. Politicians who used Oromo votes to gain office, then forgot Oromo needs. Allies who accepted Oromo sacrifices on the battlefield, then denied Oromo rewards at the negotiating table. Leaders who promised liberation, then settled for personal enrichment.
The Oromo people know this pattern. They have tasted betrayal more often than victory.
But through it all—through the cycles of hope and disappointment, through the eras of open war and fragile peace—one figure has remained constant.
Not perfect. Not infallible. But constant.
Jaal Dawud Ibsa.
PART TWO: THE AGE OF OPPORTUNISTS
“In an age of opportunists, where some bartered loyalty for gain, like Judas Iscariot for thirty pieces of silver, you remained rare one in a million – unbought, unwavering, real.”
The Thirty Pieces of Silver
The name Judas Iscariot has echoed through two thousand years of human history as the ultimate symbol of betrayal. A man who walked with his teacher, ate with him, called him “Rabbi”—and then sold him for the price of a slave.
Thirty pieces of silver.
The tragedy of Judas is not that he was weak. It is that he was bought. His loyalty had a price. And when that price was offered, he accepted.
The past decades of Ethiopian politics have produced more than a few Judases. Men and women who began as champions of the Oromo cause—who spoke the right words, attended the right meetings, carried the right flags—and then, when the opportunity for personal advancement appeared, they traded their principles for positions, their people for power.
The One Who Could Not Be Bought
What is the price of Jaal Dawud Ibsa?
That question has been asked by every Ethiopian regime, every would-be mediator, every foreign power that sought to “manage” the Oromo question.
And the answer has always been the same: There is no price.
Not because he is immune to temptation. Not because he lacks human desires. But because he has understood something that opportunists never grasp: Some things are worth more than any payment.
The dignity of the Oromo people. The future of Oromo children. The truth of Oromo history. The dream of Oromo self-determination.
These cannot be bought. They cannot be sold. They can only be defended.
And Jaal Dawud Ibsa has defended them with a consistency that, in an age of constant flip-flopping, appears almost supernatural.
“Unbought, Unwavering, Real”
Three words. Three rare qualities.
Quality
Meaning
How Dawud Ibsa Embodies It
Unbought
Cannot be purchased, bribed, or compromised
Decades in power without accumulating personal wealth at the expense of the movement
Unwavering
Does not shift with political winds
Remained committed to OLF principles through imprisonment, exile, war, and peace
Real
Authentic; not a performance; substance over show
Lives the struggle; does not merely speak about it
In a political culture where performance often substitutes for substance, where social media presence matters more than on-the-ground organizing, where slogans replace strategy—Jaal Dawud Ibsa represents something increasingly rare: the real thing.
PART THREE: WISDOM BEYOND PAGES
“Your wisdom runs deeper than pages, beyond what Niccolò Machiavelli could ever capture, for it is lived, not written – something we witness, and learn.”
The Limits of Books
Niccolò Machiavelli, the Renaissance philosopher who wrote The Prince, is often cited as the ultimate authority on political cunning. His advice to rulers—be feared rather than loved, break promises when convenient, imitate both the lion and the fox—has shaped the thinking of power-seekers for five centuries.
But Machiavelli wrote from observation, not from experience. He was a civil servant who lost his position, wrote a book about how to gain and keep power—and then watched as his own advice failed to restore him to office.
Jaal Dawud Ibsa has not merely observed power from a distance. He has lived it. He has been imprisoned. He has been exiled. He has led armed struggle. He has negotiated peace. He has seen allies become enemies and enemies become allies. He has watched movements rise and fall.
And through all of it, he has developed a wisdom that no book can teach.
Lived Wisdom
What is lived wisdom?
Book Knowledge
Lived Wisdom
Learns from reading
Learns from suffering
Theoretical
Practical
Can be taught
Must be experienced
Static
Adaptive
Safe
Costly
Jaal Dawud Ibsa’s wisdom has been purchased at a high price. It is written not on pages, but on the lived experience of decades of struggle. It is etched not in ink, but in the memory of sleepless nights, difficult decisions, and the weight of responsibility for millions of people.
What We Witness and Learn
Those who have spent time with Jaal Dawud Ibsa speak of a man who listens more than he speaks. Who asks questions more than he issues commands. Who seeks consensus without abandoning principle.
These are not qualities that can be faked. They are not strategies to be deployed. They are the natural outgrowth of a man who has learned, through decades of trial and error, that leadership is not about domination—it is about service.
The Oromo people do not need to read Machiavelli to understand power. They have Jaal Dawud Ibsa.
And they learn from him—not from his lectures, but from his example.
PART FOUR: THE SYMBOL OF ROYALTY WITHOUT A CROWN
“Though Oromo know no crown nor king, you rise as a symbol of true royalty, a leader shaped by truth and loyalty, an example for generations yet to come.”
The Oromo Tradition of Leadership
The Oromo people have never been ruled by kings in the European or Abyssinian sense. The Gadaa system—one of the most sophisticated democratic systems ever developed by a pre-industrial society—governed Oromo life for centuries. Leaders were elected for fixed terms, held accountable by assemblies, and retired after eight years.
There were no dynasties. No divine right. No crowns passed from father to son.
Leadership, in Oromo tradition, was earned—not inherited. And it was temporary—not permanent.
A Different Kind of Royalty
When the poem says that Jaal Dawud Ibsa rises as “a symbol of true royalty,” it is not suggesting that he seeks to become a king. It is using royal imagery to convey something deeper: dignity, steadfastness, and a sense of sacred duty.
True royalty—in the best sense of the word—is not about bloodlines or palaces. It is about:
Nobility of character – Doing the right thing when no one is watching
Sacrifice for others – Putting the needs of the people above personal comfort
Consistency – Being the same person in private as in public
Accountability – Answering for one’s actions
By these measures, Jaal Dawud Ibsa is indeed a kind of royalty—a leader who has earned his place not through birth or wealth, but through decades of faithful service.
Shaped by Truth and Loyalty
Two forces have shaped Jaal Dawud Ibsa’s leadership:
Truth – Not the truth that is convenient, but the truth that is uncomfortable. The truth about Oromo history, about the failures of previous leadership, about the challenges that remain. He has never been a man of easy lies.
Loyalty – Not blind loyalty, but principled loyalty. Loyalty to the Oromo people, not to any faction or individual. Loyalty to the cause, not to the trappings of power.
These are the forces that have kept him standing when others fell. These are the forces that will continue to guide him.
An Example for Generations
The ultimate test of any leader is what happens after they are gone. Do their achievements crumble? Does their movement collapse? Are they forgotten?
Or do they leave behind an example—a model of leadership that future generations can study, admire, and emulate?
Jaal Dawud Ibsa is building that example now. Not through self-promotion. Not through a cult of personality. But through the quiet, persistent work of showing what it means to lead with integrity.
Decades from now, when young Oromos ask, “What did a real leader look like?” the answer will be available.
They will look at the life of Jaal Dawud Ibsa.
PART FIVE: THE GRATITUDE OF A PEOPLE
“For all you have given, we thank you Jall Daud Ibssa. May God bless you, and grant you a life both long and full.”
What He Has Given
The poem lists no specific achievements. It does not need to. The gratitude it expresses is not for any single victory, any particular policy, any one moment of triumph.
It is gratitude for a life lived in service.
Jaal Dawud Ibsa has given:
His youth – To the struggle, when he could have pursued personal ambition
His freedom – To imprisonment, when he could have compromised
His safety – To exile, when he could have made peace with power
His time – Decades of patient organizing, negotiating, leading
His example – A model of integrity in a corrupt age
These are not small gifts. They are the substance of a life fully given to a cause greater than oneself.
A Blessing for the Future
The poem closes with a blessing: “May God bless you, and grant you a life both long and full.”
This is not merely a polite sentiment. It is a recognition that the Oromo people still need Jaal Dawud Ibsa. His wisdom is still required. His leadership is still necessary. His example is still being written.
May he live long—not for his own sake, but for the sake of the movement he has guided.
May his life be full—not with riches or ease, but with the satisfaction of seeing the Oromo people move closer to their rightful place in the world.
PART SIX: THE CONTEXT – WHO IS JAAL DAWUD IBSA?
For readers who may not be familiar with the Oromo struggle, some context is necessary.
The Oromo Liberation Front (OLF)
Fact
Detail
Founded
1973
Purpose
Self-determination for the Oromo people
Status
Political party and former armed liberation movement
Historical Role
Fought against the Derg regime (1974-1991) and later against successive Ethiopian governments
Current Status
Legal political party operating within Ethiopia after a 2018 peace agreement
Jaal Dawud Ibsa’s Role
Fact
Detail
Position
Chairman of the OLF
Tenure
Multiple decades
Background
Spent years in exile, imprisoned under previous regimes
Reputation
Known for principled leadership, unwillingness to compromise on core Oromo rights
The Challenges He Has Faced
Imprisonment – Held by the Derg regime for his political activities
Exile – Operated from outside Ethiopia during periods when the OLF was banned
Assassination attempts – Targeted by successive Ethiopian governments
Internal dissent – Navigated factional disputes within the OLF
Peace process – Led the OLF through the 2018 peace agreement with the Ethiopian government
Through every challenge, he has remained.
PART SEVEN: COMPARISONS – THE RARITY OF SUCH LEADERSHIP
To appreciate Jaal Dawud Ibsa, one must understand how rare his kind of leadership has become.
The African Context
Across Africa, liberation movement leaders have often followed a predictable pattern:
Stage
Typical Behavior
Dawud Ibsa’s Path
Struggle
Fight against colonialism/oppression
Fought for Oromo liberation
Victory
Take power, often as president
Did not seek presidency of Ethiopia
Consolidation
Eliminate rivals, extend term limits
Remained focused on Oromo cause, not personal power
Enrichment
Accumulate wealth for self and family
No known accumulation of personal wealth
Legacy
Often leave behind corruption, dynasties
Leaving behind an example of integrity
Jaal Dawud Ibsa broke the mold. He did not become another African “big man.” He did not trade the liberation struggle for a palace. He remained what he had always been: a servant of the Oromo people.
The Global Context
In global politics, the pattern is similar. Revolutionaries become authoritarians. Freedom fighters become oppressors. Idealists become cynics.
The list is long: from Zimbabwe’s Robert Mugabe to Eritrea’s Isaias Afwerki, from Nicaragua’s Daniel Ortega to Venezuela’s Nicolás Maduro—the story is tragically familiar.
Jaal Dawud Ibsa has avoided this fate. Not because he is a saint. But because he has never forgotten who he serves.
PART EIGHT: CRITICAL REFLECTION – NO LEADER IS BEYOND SCRUTINY
This feature article is a tribute, not a hagiography. No leader is perfect. No movement is without flaws. And the Oromo people, like all peoples, must maintain the right to critique their leaders even as they honor them.
Fair Questions
Any honest assessment of Jaal Dawud Ibsa’s leadership must grapple with legitimate questions:
Question
Context
Has the OLF achieved its core goals under his leadership?
The struggle continues; complete self-determination remains unrealized
Have there been internal disputes within the OLF?
Yes, as in any political organization
Has the 2018 peace agreement delivered for Oromos?
Mixed results; some progress, continued repression
Could different strategies have yielded better outcomes?
Always a matter of debate
These are not attacks. They are the normal questions that any people should ask of their leaders.
The Balance
The tribute poem does not claim that Jaal Dawud Ibsa has been perfect. It claims that he has been steadfast, unbought, unwavering, and real.
These claims can stand alongside critical questions. A leader can be imperfect and still be rare. A movement can have unfinished business and still have a chairman worthy of respect.
The Oromo people do not need to choose between gratitude and critical thinking. They can honor Jaal Dawud Ibsa for what he has been—and still demand more for the future.
PART NINE: THE LEGACY IN PROGRESS
Jaal Dawud Ibsa is still alive. His story is not finished. His legacy is still being written.
What He Represents Today
Symbol
Meaning
Continuity
A link between the OLF of the 1970s and the Oromo movement of today
Integrity
Proof that political leadership need not corrupt
Hope
Evidence that the Oromo cause is not abandoned
Warning
A reminder to opportunists that not everyone can be bought
What the Future Holds
The Oromo people will one day face a future without Jaal Dawud Ibsa. That day, whenever it comes, will be difficult. But the example he has set will remain.
Young Oromos will ask: What did he do that made him so respected?
The answer will be simple: He stayed. He did not sell out. He did not give up. He was real.
And that answer will be enough to inspire the next generation of leaders—not to copy him, but to follow his example in their own way.
CONCLUSION: A PRAYER AND A PROMISE
Jaal Dawud Ibsa.
The name itself has become a kind of prayer for many Oromos—a prayer of gratitude for what has been, and a prayer of hope for what may yet be.
In an age of betrayals, he remained loyal. In a marketplace of sellouts, he remained unbought. In a sea of performances, he remained real.
For that, the Oromo people thank him.
Not with statues or monuments—those can be torn down. Not with official titles or ceremonies—those can be revoked. But with the only tribute that truly matters: the memory of a life lived well, and the determination to carry forward the cause he never abandoned.
“Some leaders are remembered for what they built. Others are remembered for what they refused to destroy. Jaal Dawud Ibsa will be remembered for both.”
“For all you have given, we thank you Jall Daud Ibssa. May God bless you, and grant you a life both long and full.”
When security forces record their own brutality and celebrate it, is this policy – or a collapse of all rules of engagement?
Exclusive Investigative Feature
INTRODUCTION: THE NAME THAT BECOMES A CONFESSION
Kun Dukam.
“THIS IS DUKAM.”
Three words. Spoken like a signature. Uttered not in a courtroom, not in an interrogation room, not in a formal report – but on the scene of an act so shocking, so brazen, that it forces every observer to ask a single, terrifying question:
Was this ordered? Or has something far more dangerous been unleashed?
The act in question – a “suukanneessaa” (shocking, astonishing, almost unbelievable) deed – was captured on video or recounted by witnesses. And the perpetrators did not hide their faces. They did not whisper. They did not flee.
Instead, they announced themselves.
Kun Dukam.
This is Dukam.
As if the name itself were a badge of honor. As if the brutality were a brand. As if somewhere, someone had given them permission – not just to commit the act, but to own it, to record it, to boast about it.
This article investigates what happened at the Chaaynota Dukam office – a business establishment where this shocking event unfolded – and explores the deeper implications for Ethiopia’s security apparatus, its rules of engagement, and the very concept of justice.
PART ONE: THE SCENE – WHAT HAPPENED AT CHAAYNOTA DUKAM?
The Location
The incident took place at the Waajjira Chaaynota Dukam – the Dukam Chain Office, a business establishment whose exact nature remains under investigation. What is clear is that this was not a battlefield. This was not a remote forest or a clandestine detention center.
This was a place of business.
People were there to work, to trade, to live their ordinary lives – until the moment ordinary life ended.
The Act
The details of the “gocha suukanneessaa” (astonishing act) are still emerging. But according to available information:
The act was so extreme, so outside the bounds of normal human behavior, that witnesses struggled to process what they had seen
The perpetrators did not act in secret
The act was recorded or documented in a way that left no doubt about who was responsible
Those responsible then identified themselves openly – not as anonymous operatives, but as “Dukam”
The Signature
The phrase “Kun Dukam” – “This is Dukam” – appears to have been used as a kind of declaration.
In criminal underworlds, such signatures are common: cartels leave their marks on bodies; gangs spray-paint their names on walls. But those are criminals – people who operate outside the law.
The question haunting this case is: Was Dukam operating outside the law – or with the law’s protection?
PART TWO: THE PERPETRATORS – WHO IS “DUKAM”?
The name “Dukam” is not yet publicly identified as belonging to any known official security unit. This raises several possibilities:
Possibility
Implication
A rogue unit
A group of individuals acting on their own, without official authorization, using a code name to conceal their identities
An unofficial “death squad”
A unit that exists in the shadows, known to superiors but not formally recognized, given informal permission to operate outside the rules
A criminal group impersonating security forces
Ordinary criminals who have adopted a name to create fear and intimidate victims
A nickname for an existing official unit
An established police or military unit that has acquired (or given itself) a street name
Without further investigation, it is impossible to say which possibility is true. But the fact that the perpetrators announced themselves – “Kun Dukam” – suggests they are not afraid of being identified.
And that suggests protection.
PART THREE: THE CENTRAL QUESTION – ORDERED OR ROGUE?
“Waan akka qajeelfamaa (rule of engagement) wahiitu akkas godhaa jedhee itti kenname moo?” “Is there something like a rule of engagement that was given to them, telling them to do this?”
This is the heart of the matter.
What Are Rules of Engagement?
Rules of engagement (ROE) are the guidelines that govern how security forces – police, military, intelligence operatives – may use force. They are supposed to ensure that force is used:
Proportionally (not excessive)
Legally (within the law)
Necessarily (only when required)
Accountably (those who use force can be investigated)
In functioning democracies, ROE are written, trained, and enforced. Violations lead to prosecution.
What If the ROE Themselves Are Corrupt?
The question posed in the original text goes deeper: not just “Did they follow the rules?” but “Were the rules themselves written to permit this?”
If the answer is yes – if someone in authority gave a unit called “Dukam” permission to commit shocking acts, to announce themselves, to operate with impunity – then the problem is not rogue actors.
The problem is state policy.
And that is far more dangerous.
The Spectrum of Possibility
Scenario
Description
Accountability
Rogue actors
Individual officers acted without orders, violating their training and the law
Arrest and prosecute the individuals
Tacit approval
Superiors knew but did nothing; a culture of impunity allowed the act
Remove superiors; reform the unit
Written authorization
Someone gave written or verbal orders permitting such acts
That someone must face trial for crimes against humanity
Systemic policy
The act is not exceptional but routine; “Dukam” is one unit among many operating this way
The entire system must be dismantled and rebuilt
PART FOUR: THE ACT ITSELF – WHAT MAKES IT “SUUKANNEESSA”?
The Oromo word suukanneessaa carries a specific weight. It describes something that:
Shocks the conscience
Defies normal explanation
Leaves witnesses stunned and horrified
Goes beyond ordinary cruelty into something almost surreal
Not every violent act is suukanneessaa. A shooting, a beating, an arrest – these are terrible but understandable within the framework of state violence.
A suukanneessaa act is different. It is the kind of act that makes people ask: How could a human being do this to another human being?
And when the perpetrators then brag about it – “Kun Dukam” – the shock deepens.
The Psychology of Bragging
Why would someone commit a brutal act and then announce their identity?
Possible Reason
Explanation
Intimidation
To terrorize the community into submission
Competition
To prove superiority over other units or groups
Impunity
Because they believe (correctly) that they will never face consequences
Ideology
Because they believe their cause justifies any means
Orders
Because someone told them to make their identity known
Each possible reason points to a different level of organization and authority. The most frightening is the last: if they were ordered to announce themselves, then the order came from someone who wanted the act to be seen – and feared.
PART FIVE: THE LOCATION – WHY A BUSINESS ESTABLISHMENT?
The fact that this act took place “waajjira Chaaynota Dukamitti business qababii keessatti” – at the Dukam Chain Office, inside a business establishment – is highly significant.
What This Tells Us
This was not a battlefield. No one can claim this was collateral damage in a firefight.
This was not a remote location. Business establishments are in towns, cities, areas with other people present.
There were witnesses. Civilians saw what happened.
The act was intentional. Going to a specific business location, targeting that place, committing an act there – this was planned.
There may have been a commercial or economic motive. Was this about money? About control of a business? About sending a message to other business owners?
The Intersection of Security Forces and Business
In many conflict zones, security forces become entangled with business interests. They provide “protection” (or extortion). They take sides in commercial disputes. They use their authority to seize assets, settle debts, or eliminate competitors.
If the act at Chaaynota Dukam was connected to business, the implications are enormous: security forces may be operating as armed wings of commercial interests, using state power for private gain.
PART SIX: THE PATTERN – IS DUKAM A REPEATED NAME?
The information provided does not specify whether this is the first known act by “Dukam” or part of a longer pattern. Investigative journalists and human rights monitors should examine:
Question
Action Required
Has “Dukam” been mentioned in other incidents?
Search databases, social media, witness testimonies
Do other units have similar “signature” behaviors?
Compare with known practices of other security units
Are there videos, photos, or recordings?
Forensic analysis of available media
Have victims or families come forward?
Outreach to communities where Dukam operates
If “Dukam” is a known entity with a history of such acts, then this incident is not an anomaly – it is a data point in a system of terror.
PART SEVEN: THE LEGAL FRAMEWORK – WHAT SHOULD HAPPEN
Under Ethiopian Law
Extrajudicial killings, torture, and acts of shocking cruelty are prohibited by:
The Ethiopian Constitution (right to life, dignity, and due process)
The Ethiopian Criminal Code (murder, assault, illegal detention)
Ethiopia’s international obligations (ratified treaties including ICCPR, CAT, etc.)
Under International Law
Acts of shocking brutality, if widespread or systematic, may constitute:
Crimes against humanity (if part of a state-directed attack on a civilian population)
War crimes (if committed in a context of armed conflict)
Torture (defined as severe pain or suffering inflicted with state involvement)
The fact that perpetrators announced themselves – “Kun Dukam” – could be evidence of intent to terrorize a civilian population, a key element of crimes against humanity.
What Justice Would Require
Step
Responsible Body
Identify the individuals in the “Dukam” unit
Ethiopian police, with international oversight if necessary
Ethiopian courts or, if unwilling, international mechanisms (ICC)
Compensate victims
State budget, with international assistance if needed
Disband the unit if found to be systematically abusive
Executive order
PART EIGHT: THE CULTURE OF IMPUNITY – WHY “DUKAM” BELIEVES IT CAN BOAST
The most chilling aspect of “Kun Dukam” is not the act itself – terrible as it may be.
It is the boasting.
Perpetrators of atrocities throughout history have often tried to hide their identities. They wear masks. They operate at night. They destroy evidence.
Not Dukam.
Dukam announces itself. Dukam records itself. Dukam leaves its signature like an artist signing a canvas – except the canvas is a crime scene.
What This Boasting Reveals
A belief in impunity – They do not believe they will ever be held accountable.
A sense of authorization – They believe someone above them approves.
A desire for reputation – They want to be known, feared, respected (in their own twisted understanding).
A collapse of professional standards – No professional security force allows its members to “sign” their operations.
The Danger of Normalized Brutality
When acts of shocking cruelty become routine – when perpetrators brag rather than hide – a society has crossed a threshold. The taboo against extreme violence has broken. What was once unthinkable becomes thinkable. Then it becomes doable. Then it becomes celebrated.
“Kun Dukam” is not just a statement of identity. It is a declaration of a new normal – one in which the state’s agents can commit any act, anywhere, against anyone, and then announce it to the world without fear.
PART NINE: THE RESPONSIBILITY OF WITNESSES AND JOURNALISTS
Acts like the one attributed to “Dukam” depend on silence. They depend on fear. They depend on witnesses looking away.
What Witnesses Can Do
Document – Write down what you saw. Take photos if safe. Record audio.
Preserve evidence – Keep any physical evidence in a safe place.
Find others – You are likely not the only witness. Corroboration is powerful.
Contact journalists – Investigative reporters can protect your identity while exposing the truth.
Seek legal help – Human rights organizations may provide legal support.
What Journalists Must Do
Investigate – Do not rely on official statements. Go to the scene. Find witnesses.
Protect sources – Anonymity is not cowardice; it is survival.
Name names – When evidence supports it, name the perpetrators, the commanders, the enablers.
Follow the pattern – One incident is a story. A pattern is an exposé.
PART TEN: THE QUESTION THAT REMAINS – AND THE ANSWER WE DEMAND
The original text asks:
“Waan akka qajeelfamaa (rule of engagement) wahiitu akkas godhaa jedhee itti kenname moo?” “Is there something like a rule of engagement that was given to them, telling them to do this?”
This is not a rhetorical question. It is a demand for information.
The Ethiopian people – and the international community – have a right to know:
Who is Dukam?
What unit do they belong to?
Who commands them?
Were they acting on orders?
If so, whose orders?
What rules of engagement – written or unwritten – govern their actions?
Will anyone be held accountable for the act they committed and then boasted about?
Until these questions are answered, every Ethiopian citizen must assume that any security officer could be Dukam – could commit any act, anywhere, and then announce “Kun Dukam” without consequence.
That is not a state. That is a reign of terror.
CONCLUSION: THE NAME THAT MUST BECOME A VERDICT
Kun Dukam.
Today, those words are a boast – a signature of impunity, a declaration of power without accountability.
But tomorrow, those same words could become something else.
They could become evidence.
They could become indictment.
They could become conviction.
Every time a perpetrator announces “Kun Dukam,” they are writing their own confession. They are providing their own name. They are creating the record that will one day be used to put them in prison.
The hyenas ate Tomas Getacho’s body, but the truth survived. Dukam may believe its acts will be forgotten, its name will fade, its crimes will be buried.
But the truth has a long memory.
And the truth is this: No one who commits an act of shocking cruelty – and then boasts about it – can hide forever.
Kun Dukam.
Yes. This is Dukam.
And one day, this will be Dukam’s downfall.
To the victims of Dukam: May your suffering be acknowledged. To the witnesses: May your courage be honored. To the perpetrators: May justice find you.
And to those who gave the orders – if orders were given: May you face a court that does not recognize your name.
“INSPECTOR BAYISA KILLED TEACHER TOMAS GETACHOO AND FED HIM TO HYENAS”
Exclusive Investigative Report
INTRODUCTION: A DEATH THAT COULD NOT BE BURIED
Teacher Tomas Getacho was a man who educated children, served his community, and lived a quiet life in Buraayyu. He was not a soldier. He was not a politician. He was not accused of any crime—at least, not any crime that has ever been presented in a court of law.
Yet, on a fateful day in 2021, he was taken from his home, beaten, shot, and thrown into a river. His body was not returned to his family for proper burial. Instead, according to multiple witnesses and official sources, his remains were devoured by hyenas.
This is the story of Inspector Bayisa—a man who wore a badge, carried a gun, and used both to commit an act of unspeakable brutality.
This is the story of Teacher Tomas Getacho—a man whose only crime may have been being in the wrong place at the wrong time, or knowing something that someone in power wanted buried.
And this is the story of how the truth—buried, denied, and fed to wild animals—has finally been unearthed.
PART ONE: THE VICTIM – WHO WAS TEACHER TOMAS GETACHOO?
Tomas Getacho was a teacher. In rural Ethiopia, particularly in the Oromia region, teachers are more than educators—they are community pillars. They are the people who bring literacy, who advocate for children, who often know the secrets of the villages where they serve.
Fact
Detail
Name
Tomas Getacho
Profession
Teacher
Residence
Buraayyu area
Community Role
Educator, respected figure
Date of Incident
February 24, 2021 E.C. (or 16/08/2013 A.L.I. – Ethiopian Calendar)
The exact reason for his targeting remains unclear. What is clear is that someone in power—someone with authority over life and death—decided that Tomas Getacho should not continue living.
PART TWO: THE ACCUSED – INSPECTOR BAYISA
The man named as the principal perpetrator is Inspector Bayisa. According to sources, Bayisa was not acting alone. He was accompanied by another police officer named Nugusee.
Together, these two men—agents of the state, sworn to protect and serve—allegedly became executioners.
Alleged Perpetrator
Role
Inspector Bayisa
Lead perpetrator; accused of orchestrating the killing
Nugusee
Accomplice; fellow police officer
The information available suggests that Bayisa and Nugusee were not rogue actors operating in secret. They appear to have acted with the authority of their positions—perhaps even with the knowledge or approval of higher officials.
PART THREE: THE DAY OF THE KILLING – WHAT HAPPENED?
The Date
The incident occurred on February 24, 2021 (Ethiopian Calendar equivalent: 16/08/2013 E.C).
The Location
The events unfolded in Buraayyu, near an area known as Keellaa, and the victims were taken to the Mogor River.
The Victims
Three young men were targeted that day:
Name
Fate
Tomas Getacho (teacher)
Killed immediately; body fed to hyenas
Taarikuu Milkiyaas
Shot six times; survived after being found and taken to hospital
Eebbisaa Taaddasaa
Not shot that day; arrested and taken to Awash Arba prison
The Sequence of Events
According to witness testimony and corroborating sources:
Capture: Bayisa, Nugusee, and other police officers rounded up Tomas Getacho, Eebbisaa Taaddasaa, and Taarikuu Milkiyaas from Buraayyu, near the area called Keellaa.
Transport to Mogor: The three young men were taken to the Mogor River—a remote location, far from witnesses, far from help.
Brutal Beating: At the river, they were beaten severely, until their bodies weakened and their resistance collapsed.
Shooting: Tomas Getacho was killed immediately. Taarikuu Milkiyaas was shot six times but, miraculously, did not die.
Abandonment: The bodies (or, in Taarikuu’s case, his barely living body) were left at the scene.
Survival: Taarikuu Milkiyaas was found the next morning by passersby who took him to a hospital. He survived—a living witness to the atrocity.
PART FOUR: THE FATE OF EEBISAA TAADDASAA – A CASE OF MISTAKEN IDENTITY?
Eebbisaa Taaddasaa was not shot that day. Instead, he was taken alive to Awash Arba prison.
Here, the story takes a dark and bizarre turn.
A Family’s Grief
The family of Eebbisaa Taaddasaa believed their son had died. They had been told—or had assumed—that he was among the killed. In their grief, they traveled to identify a body.
The Wrong Corpse
At the morgue, the family was shown a body that had been partially eaten by hyenas. The remains were so disfigured, so consumed by wild animals, that positive identification was impossible.
Nevertheless, the family was told: This is your son.
They took the body—believing it to be Eebbisaa—and buried it in his homeland: Godina Qeellam Wallaggaa, Aanaa Gawoo Qeebbee, ganda baadiyyaa Leeqaa Golboo.
The Twist: Eebbisaa Was Alive
Months later, Eebbisaa Taaddasaa was released from Awash Arba prison.
He was alive.
The body the family had buried—the body eaten by hyenas—was not Eebbisaa.
Whose Body Was It?
The evidence points to a horrifying conclusion: The body fed to hyenas and then buried by Eebbisaa’s family was actually the body of Teacher Tomas Getacho.
The hyenas had done what the killers could not fully accomplish themselves: they had destroyed the evidence. The body was unrecognizable. And in that confusion, a family grieved for the wrong son while the real victim’s remains were interred under a false name.
PART FIVE: THE FINAL RESTING PLACE OF TOMAS GETACHO
Once the truth began to emerge—once Eebbisaa walked out of prison alive—the mistake could no longer be ignored.
The body buried in Leeqaa Golboo was exhumed. It was not Eebbisaa.
It was Tomas Getacho.
His remains were then moved to his true homeland: Godina Wallagga Lixaa, Aanaa Qilxuu Kaarraa, ganda Akkachee.
There, finally, Teacher Tomas Getacho was laid to rest—not as a stranger, but as a son of that soil.
PART SIX: THE WITNESSES – THOSE WHO LIVED TO TELL THE STORY
This investigation has been corroborated by multiple sources:
Source Type
Contribution
Taarikuu Milkiyaas
Survived six gunshot wounds; witnessed the killing of Tomas; can identify the perpetrators
Eebbisaa Taaddasaa
Survived imprisonment; his mistaken “death” and burial revealed the truth
Other survivors
“Warra lubbuun hafee” – those who remained alive
Police sources
Some within the security apparatus have confirmed the events
Court/legal sources
“Mana haakimaa” – judicial officials have provided information
The evidence is not based on rumor. It is based on testimony from living witnesses and officials who know what happened.
PART SEVEN: THE PATTERN – STATE-SANCTIONED KILLINGS IN OROMIA
The killing of Tomas Getacho is not an isolated incident. It fits a broader pattern documented across Oromia:
Element
Present in This Case
Security forces as perpetrators
Yes (Inspector Bayisa and Nugusee)
Extrajudicial killing
Yes (no trial, no charges)
Remote location
Yes (Mogor River)
Attempt to destroy evidence
Yes (body fed to hyenas)
Cover-up
Yes (false identification, wrong burial)
Survivors silenced or threatened
Likely
Lack of accountability
To be determined
This is not justice. This is not policing. This is death squad activity carried out by those sworn to uphold the law.
PART EIGHT: THE QUESTIONS THAT REMAIN
Despite the evidence, despite the witnesses, despite the exhumation and reburial—many questions remain unanswered.
1. Why Was Tomas Getacho Killed?
What did he do? What did he know? Who gave the order?
The information available does not specify a motive. Was he targeted for his political beliefs? For his role as a teacher? For protecting students? For refusing to cooperate with security forces?
These questions demand answers.
2. Who Ordered the Killing?
Inspector Bayisa and Nugusee may have pulled the triggers. But who gave the order? Who authorized the operation? Who covered it up?
Without accountability at higher levels, arresting Bayisa alone would be treating a symptom, not the disease.
3. What Happened to Inspector Bayisa?
Has he been arrested? Is he still serving as a police officer? Has he been promoted? Disciplined? Protected?
The public has a right to know.
4. What Compensation Has Been Given to the Families?
Tomas Getacho’s family buried the wrong body. They grieved for months—perhaps years—believing their son was someone else’s child. They have suffered unimaginable trauma.
Has the state offered anything? An apology? Financial compensation? Justice?
5. How Many Others Have Suffered the Same Fate?
If hyenas ate Tomas Getacho’s body, how many other victims have been disposed of in the same way—consumed by animals, their remains never identified, their families never knowing the truth?
PART NINE: A CALL FOR JUSTICE
The evidence in the case of Teacher Tomas Getacho is clear:
He was extrajudicially killed by state security officers
His body was fed to wild animals in an attempt to destroy evidence
His remains were misidentified and buried under another name
Survivors exist who can testify to these events
What Must Happen Now
Action
Why It Is Necessary
Independent investigation
The same institutions that protected Bayisa cannot investigate him fairly
Arrest and prosecution of Inspector Bayisa and Nugusee
Those who pull the trigger must face the law
Investigation of superiors
Who ordered this? Who covered it up?
Compensation for families
Tomas’s family, Eebbisaa’s family, Taarikuu’s family have all suffered
Public acknowledgment
The state must admit what happened
Systemic reform
This pattern must end
PART TEN: A MESSAGE TO THE FAMILY OF TOMAS GETACHOO
To the wife, the children, the parents, the siblings, the students, and the community of Teacher Tomas Getacho:
You have suffered what no family should ever suffer. You buried a body you were told was your son—only to discover it was someone else’s child. You grieved for the wrong person. You waited for answers that did not come.
Your pain is seen. Your loss is acknowledged.
The world may not know Tomas’s name. But those who read this report will know it. And those who value justice will demand accountability.
“Maatiifi firoottan barsiisaa Toomaasiif jajjabina hawwaa, waaqni gumaa isaa haa baasu.” “To the family and relatives of Teacher Tomas, we wish strength. May God bring forth his blood price.”
CONCLUSION: THE TRUTH WILL NOT BE EATEN
They tried to erase Tomas Getacho. They shot him. They threw his body to hyenas. They let wild animals consume the evidence. They buried his remains under another name.
They thought the truth would die with him.
But Taarikuu Milkiyaas survived six bullets. Eebbisaa Taaddasaa walked out of prison alive. Witnesses spoke. Officials confirmed. And now, this report exists.
The hyenas may have eaten Tomas’s flesh. But they could not eat the truth.
The truth is this: Inspector Bayisa killed Teacher Tomas Getacho. He fed him to hyenas. And he must be held accountable.
The cry of Tomas’s blood rises from the soil of Mogor River, from the stomachs of hyenas, from the grave in Akkachee.
And that cry will not be silenced.
May Teacher Tomas Getacho rest in peace. May his family find justice. May God bring forth his blood price.
This article is based on testimony from survivors, police sources, and judicial officials. The names of certain sources have been withheld for their protection. Further investigation is ongoing.
A nation that cannot distinguish between its internal wounds and external threats will never be truly free.
By a Socio-Political Analyst July 2026
INTRODUCTION: A PEOPLE WEIGHED DOWN
“Dhimmooti akka sabaatti nu rakkaa jiran hedduu dha.” “The issues that trouble us as a people are many.”
This single sentence captures the truth of our era. Walk into any village, any city street, any refugee camp, and you will hear the same lament. We are a people surrounded by problems—some visible, some invisible; some self-inflicted, some imposed.
But here is the truth that too many of us fail to grasp: our problems are not one. They are two.
And until we learn to separate them—to name them, to understand them, to fight them accordingly—we will remain trapped in the same cycle of suffering.
This article is an attempt to do just that: to break down the crisis of our nation into its two fundamental categories—internal problems and external problems—and to chart a way forward that is neither naive nor self-destructive.
PART ONE: THE ENEMY WITHIN
“Rakkoon keessoo keenyaa kan humna keenya laaffisaa fi galii qabsoo keenyaa naaffessaa jiruu dha.” “Our internal problem is what weakens our strength and renders the fruits of our struggle worthless.”
What Is the Internal Problem?
The internal problem is the cancer that grows from within. It is not imposed by any foreign power, though foreign powers may exploit it. It is not the result of invasion or occupation, though invaders may celebrate it. It is the product of our own failures, our own divisions, our own weaknesses.
The internal problem includes:
a) Disunity and Fragmentation A people divided against themselves cannot stand. Today, our nation is fractured along ethnic, political, generational, and even familial lines. We have become experts at fighting each other while our real enemies watch and laugh. The question is no longer “How do we defeat our oppressors?” but rather “Which faction of us is more correct?”
b) Lack of Accountability When leaders lie with impunity, when officials steal without consequence, when those who commit crimes against their own people walk free—the internal problem deepens. Accountability is the glue that holds a society together. Without it, everything falls apart.
c) The Death of Truth We live in an age where truth has become optional. Propaganda, misinformation, and deliberate lies have poisoned our public discourse. When no one trusts anyone, when every fact is disputed, when every hero is also a villain—the internal problem has won.
The Cost of the Internal Problem
The internal problem does not just hurt us—it destroys us from the inside out:
It weakens our collective strength. A people fighting among themselves cannot fight their real enemies.
It renders our sacrifices meaningless. Blood spilled by martyrs is forgotten when we turn on each other.
It turns us into prey. Every division is an invitation for external enemies to enter, to exploit, to conquer.
PART TWO: THE ENEMY WITHOUT
“Rakkoon alaa immoo kan jiraachuu keenya haaluun nu balleessuuf halkanii guyyaa hojjachaa jiruu dha.” “The external problem is what works day and night to erase our very existence.”
What Is the External Problem?
The external problem is the enemy that does not sleep. It is the colonial power, the occupying army, the hostile neighbor, the international conspiracy. It is the force that does not want us to exist—not as a free people, not as a proud nation, not as a dignified society.
The external problem includes:
a) Ideological Warfare Our enemies have understood something that we have forgotten: wars are won not with bullets alone, but with ideas. They have flooded our minds with narratives of inferiority, with histories that erase us, with futures that exclude us. They have made us doubt ourselves.
b) Economic Exploitation The external problem takes our resources, our labor, our land. It extracts wealth from our soil and sends it across oceans. It leaves us with poverty while it grows rich on what was once ours.
c) Political Manipulation External enemies fund our divisions. They arm one faction against another. They sit in comfortable offices thousands of miles away and watch us kill each other over borders they drew, over resources they stole, over identities they invented.
The Cost of the External Problem
The external problem is relentless:
It threatens our very existence. Not just our freedom, but our survival as a people.
It works day and night. There is no ceasefire, no holiday, no moment of rest for those who want us erased.
It exploits our internal weaknesses. Every internal division is a door that the external enemy walks through.
PART THREE: THE FATAL BLINDNESS
“Dhimmoota kunneen hubachuun of-eeggannoon adeemuu fi hojjachuun nu barbaachisa.” “Understanding these things, and proceeding and working with caution, is necessary for us.”
Why We Fail to Distinguish
The greatest danger we face is not the internal problem alone, nor the external problem alone. It is our inability to tell the difference between the two.
When we mistake an internal problem for an external one, we become paranoid and self-destructive. We see enemies everywhere, even in our own brothers and sisters. We refuse to criticize ourselves because we think every critique is a foreign plot.
When we mistake an external problem for an internal one, we become naive and vulnerable. We blame ourselves for what has been done to us. We internalize the propaganda of our enemies. We fight each other instead of fighting those who truly wish us harm.
The Path of Caution
To proceed with caution means:
To ask, before every conflict: Is this enemy inside or outside?
To prioritize: Internal problems must be solved internally. External problems must be confronted externally.
To refuse manipulation: Do not let external enemies exploit internal divisions. Do not let internal failures be blamed on external forces.
To build discernment: Not every critic is a traitor. Not every friend is loyal.
PART FOUR: WE ARE NOT SHEEP
“Bakka amma geenye kan akka laayyootti hin geenye.” “The place we have reached is not the place of sheep.”
The Metaphor of the Sheep
The sheep is the ultimate symbol of helplessness. Sheep do not fight. Sheep do not organize. Sheep do not resist. They wait to be slaughtered, and they do not even know it.
The speaker declares: We have not arrived at the place of sheep.
This is a statement of defiance. It is a declaration that despite our internal problems, despite our external enemies, despite everything—we are still a people of courage, of resistance, of dignity.
What It Means to Refuse Sheephood
To refuse to be sheep means:
To wake up. No more waiting for someone else to save us.
To organize. No more fighting alone or in small, isolated groups.
To fight. No more accepting defeat as inevitable.
To die standing. No more kneeling before those who would destroy us.
PART FIVE: STRENGTHEN WHAT YOU HAVE, COMPLETE WHAT REMAINS
“Waantota argannes jabeeffachaa, kanneen hafan guuttachuutti xiyyeeffachuun barbaachisaa dha.” “Strengthening what we have already achieved, and focusing on completing what remains, is essential.”
The Two Movements of Struggle
Every successful struggle has two movements: consolidation and advancement.
First, consolidation: We must look at what we have already built. Our culture. Our language. Our history. Our heroes. Our moments of unity. Our acts of resistance. Our victories—however small. These are not nothing. These are foundations. And foundations must be strengthened before they can support more weight.
Second, advancement: We must look at what remains undone. Our political freedom. Our economic independence. Our social justice. Our true unity. These are not dreams. These are tasks. And tasks must be completed one by one, stone by stone, day by day.
What We Have Already Achieved
We have achieved:
Awareness that we are a distinct people with rights
Resistance that has shaken oppressive systems
Cultural revival that has reconnected generations
Global solidarity that has put our cause on world maps
These must be strengthened. Not taken for granted. Not abandoned for the next shiny thing.
What Remains to Be Completed
What remains:
True political self-determination
Economic liberation from exploitation
Social healing from trauma and division
Permanent victory over both internal and external enemies
These must be completed. Not postponed. Not negotiated away.
CONCLUSION: THE TWO-FRONT WAR
We are fighting a war on two fronts.
Inside: Against our own weakness, our own division, our own lack of accountability, our own death of truth.
Outside: Against those who would erase us, exploit us, manipulate us, and destroy us.
To win this two-front war, we must:
Distinguish between the two enemies. Do not confuse them.
Prioritize internal healing before external confrontation. A broken army cannot win.
Stay vigilant against manipulation. External enemies will use internal divisions. Internal failures will be blamed on external plots.
Refuse sheephood. We are not helpless. We are not waiting for slaughter.
Strengthen what we have. Our culture, our unity, our resistance.
Complete what remains. Our freedom, our justice, our victory.
FINAL WORD: A CALL TO DISCERNMENT
“Bakka amma geenye kan akka laayyootti hin geenye.”
The sheep does not know the difference between the shepherd and the wolf. The sheep follows anyone who makes noise. The sheep walks calmly to the slaughterhouse.
We are not sheep.
We are a people who have survived centuries of attempts to erase us. We are a people who still speak our language, sing our songs, tell our stories, and dream our dreams. We are a people who have not given up.
But survival is not enough. Survival is not victory. Survival is not freedom.
To be truly free, we must win the war on two fronts. We must heal ourselves while fighting our enemies. We must strengthen what we have while completing what remains. We must see clearly—with eyes wide open—the difference between the enemy within and the enemy without.
May we have the wisdom to distinguish. May we have the courage to fight. May we have the unity to win.
“The issues that trouble us as a people are many. But they are not infinite. And they are not invincible. They are two. And two can be defeated.”
Author’s Note: This article is based on a reflective text analyzing the dual nature of a nation’s struggles—internal and external. It serves as both a warning and a roadmap for any people seeking liberation from both self-inflicted wounds and imposed oppression. The principles discussed apply universally, though the specific context remains rooted in the Oromo experience and the broader Ethiopian reality.
These words are not mere syllables. They are not poetry for the sake of beauty. They are not casual prayers whispered in passing.
They are a cry.
A cry from the depths of a people who have been silenced for too long. A cry from mothers who have buried their children. A cry from young men and women who have seen their dreams crushed by the boot of oppression. A cry from elders who remember a time before the wounds—and who fear that healing may never come.
And at the end of that cry, a plea directed not to any human power, not to any political party, not to any international body—but to the highest authority that any Oromo knows:
Waaqa.
God.
“May God find our truth for us.”
This is not a prayer of the weak. This is a prayer of those who have exhausted every earthly option—and who still refuse to give up.
PART ONE: THE MEANING BEHIND THE WORDS
What Is “Imimmaan Ummataa”?
In Afaan Oromo, imimma carries a weight that English struggles to capture. It is not simply “cry” or “shout” or “lament.” It is the specific sound of a people in collective anguish. It is the wail that rises from a village after a massacre. It is the groan of a farmer watching his harvest burn. It is the sob of a child who has lost both parents to a conflict they never understood.
Imimmaan ummataa = The cry of the people.
Not one person. Not one family. Not one clan.
The people.
The collective. The multitude. The nation.
When an Oromo says “imimmaan ummataa,” they are saying: I am not alone in my suffering. My pain is the pain of millions. And together, our cry rises louder than any gun, any prison, any lie.
What Does “Waaqni Dhugaa Keenya Nuu Haa Barbaadu” Mean?
This second half of the invocation is both a prayer and a challenge.
Waaqni – God (the supreme Creator, the Waaqa of the Oromo traditional religion, the same God known by many names across faiths)
Dhugaa keenya – Our truth (not “the truth” in abstract, but our truth—the specific, lived, historical reality of the Oromo people)
Nuu haa barbaadu – May He find for us (or “may He locate on our behalf”)
Put together: “May God find our truth for us.”
Why “find”? Because truth, for a people who have been systematically erased from history, from textbooks, from political representation, from economic opportunity—that truth has been buried. Hidden. Denied.
The speaker is asking God to dig up that buried truth. To unearth it. To present it to the world in a way that no human power can deny.
PART TWO: THE CONTEXT – WHY THIS PRAYER NOW?
A People Exhausted
The Oromo cause is not new. It stretches back generations:
Era
Oppression
Oromo Response
Pre-19th Century
Independent Oromo societies with their own governance (Gadaa system)
Flourishing
Menelik’s Expansion (late 1800s)
Conquest, occupation, incorporation into Abyssinian Empire
Armed resistance
Haile Selassie Era
Cultural suppression, language ban, land alienation
Continued resistance, marginalization
Derg Era (1974-1991)
Mass atrocities, forced resettlement, Red Terror
Emergence of armed liberation fronts
EPRDF Era (1991-2018)
Ethnic federalism on paper, continued marginalization in practice
Mass protests (2014-2018)
Current Era (2018-present)
New promises, old patterns, renewed repression
Ongoing struggle
After all of this—after the deaths, after the displacements, after the broken promises—what do the people have left?
Their cry. And their God.
When Earthly Justice Fails
The invocation “Waaqni dhugaa keenya nuu haa barbaadu” is spoken most often when all human systems have failed:
Courts that refuse to prosecute those who killed Oromo protesters
Parliaments where Oromo voices are outnumbered and ignored
International bodies that issue statements but take no action
Media that either ignores Oromo suffering or distorts it
Even Oromo leaders who have betrayed the trust of their own people
When every door is closed, when every judge is bought, when every diplomat looks away—where does a people turn?
Upward.
Not out of resignation. Out of faith.
The prayer is not “God, do everything for us.” The prayer is “God, find our truth—and then let that truth do what truth always does: set the captives free.”
PART THREE: THE THEOLOGY OF OROMO RESISTANCE
Waaqa in Oromo Tradition
Long before Christianity or Islam arrived in Oromia, the Oromo people believed in a supreme Creator: Waaqa Tokkicha (the One God). This was not a distant, uninvolved deity. Waaqa was present in the rhythms of nature, in the justice of the Gadaa system, in the blessings of rain and the warning of drought.
The traditional Oromo prayer begins with:
“Waaqa, Waaqa, Waaqa – kan biyya fi samii uume, kan nama uume, kan beeylada uume…” “God, God, God – who created the earth and the sky, who created humanity, who created animals…”
This Waaqa is a God of dhugaa (truth) and haqa (justice). The Gadaa system, which governed Oromo society for centuries, was built on the belief that leaders must be accountable to Waaqa and to the people. A leader who lied, who stole, who killed innocents—such a leader had lost the favor of Waaqa and could be removed.
The Integration of Faith
Today, most Oromos are either Muslim or Christian. But the deep structure of Oromo spirituality remains: the belief that God is on the side of truth, and that truth will eventually triumph.
When an Oromo Muslim says “Waaqni dhugaa keenya nuu haa barbaadu,” they are calling upon Allah by one of His names (Al-Haqq, The Truth).
When an Oromo Christian says the same, they are echoing the Psalmist: “Vindicate me, O God, and plead my cause against an ungodly nation” (Psalm 43:1).
When an Oromo follower of the traditional religion says it, they are calling upon Waaqa in the oldest way—as the witness to all covenants, the judge of all wrongs, the restorer of all balance.
The prayer unites. The cause unites. The God of truth is one.
PART FOUR: WHAT DOES IT MEAN FOR GOD TO “FIND OUR TRUTH”?
This is the heart of the invocation. Let us break it down.
1. Truth That Has Been Buried
For over a century, the Oromo story has been told by non-Oromos. Oromo history has been erased or rewritten. Oromo heroes have been forgotten or vilified. Oromo language was banned from schools and courts for generations.
“Finding our truth” means excavating history—bringing to light what was deliberately buried.
2. Truth That Has Been Denied
When Oromos say “We are marginalized,” the response from Addis Ababa is often denial. “Look at the constitution,” they say. “Look at the ministries,” they say. “Look at the prime minister’s ethnicity,” they say.
But the lived reality of ordinary Oromos tells a different story: land alienation, political arrests, economic exclusion, cultural contempt.
“Finding our truth” means validating lived experience—declaring that what Oromos have suffered is real, is wrong, and must be addressed.
3. Truth That Has Been Mocked
The world has a long history of laughing at the suffering of the weak. Oromo activists are called “terrorists.” Oromo protests are called “instability.” Oromo deaths are called “collateral damage.”
“Finding our truth” means vindication—proving to a skeptical world that the Oromo cry is not propaganda, not exaggeration, not victimhood theater. It is blood. It is tears. It is real.
4. Truth That Sets Free
Jesus of Nazareth said: “You will know the truth, and the truth will set you free” (John 8:32).
The Qur’an says: “And say, ‘The truth has come, and falsehood has perished. Indeed falsehood is ever bound to perish'” (Surah Al-Isra 17:81).
Oromo tradition says: “Dhugaan du’uu hin danda’u” – Truth cannot die.
“Finding our truth” means liberation—not because truth has magical powers, but because truth, once fully known, demands action. It demands justice. It demands change.
PART FIVE: THE CRY AS A POLITICAL ACT
Is This Prayer an Escape from Politics?
Some might say: “Prayer is fine, but what about organizing? What about protests? What about armed struggle?”
The Oromo invocation does not reject political action. It grounds it.
Throughout history, oppressed peoples have prayed before they fought. The enslaved Africans in America sang spirituals before they escaped. The Jews in Egypt cried out before the Exodus. The early Christians prayed in catacombs before they transformed an empire.
Prayer is not the opposite of action. Prayer is the source of action that is sustainable, ethical, and rooted in something deeper than rage.
When an Oromo says “Waaqni dhugaa keenya nuu haa barbaadu,” they are not sitting passively. They are:
Naming their suffering as truth, not as fate
Calling a witness higher than any human court
Refusing despair – because if God is for us, who can be against us?
Building community – because the cry is collective, not individual
Claiming hope – because truth, once found, cannot be hidden again
The Cry That Cannot Be Silenced
Governments can shut down newspapers. They can arrest journalists. They can block websites. They can ban protests.
But they cannot stop a people from crying out to God.
That is why the invocation is so powerful. It operates in a realm that no earthly power can fully control. It is the voice of the voiceless. It is the prayer of the prisoner. It is the last weapon of the unarmed.
And history shows: that weapon works.
PART SIX: RESPONSES TO THE CRY
What Happens When Oromos Cry Out?
Response
Description
From the State
Arrests, violence, denial, propaganda – the state fears the cry because it cannot fully control it.
From the World
Mostly silence. Sometimes a statement. Rarely action. But the cry plants seeds that may grow over time.
From God
This is not for any human to say. But those who cry out in faith believe that God hears – and that hearing is the first step toward answering.
From Within the Oromo Community
Solidarity. Shared grief. Renewed commitment. The cry reminds Oromos that they are not alone.
A Warning to the Oppressor
To those who have caused the Oromo people to cry out – whether in Addis Ababa, in regional capitals, or in international boardrooms:
The cry has been heard.
Not just by other Oromos. Not just by human rights groups. Not just by journalists.
By Waaqa.
And Waaqa, in the end, is not mocked. Every tear has a witness. Every drop of innocent blood has a voice. Every buried truth has a resurrection day.
The cry of the Oromo people is not a threat you can shoot. It is not a protest you can disperse. It is not a story you can delete.
It is a prayer.
And prayers have a way of being answered.
PART SEVEN: LIVING THE INVOCATION – WHAT OROMOS CAN DO
Saying “Imimmaan ummataa – Waaqni dhugaa keenya nuu haa barbaadu” is not a magical formula. It is a way of life.
1. Tell the Truth
Do not lie about the Oromo cause. Do not exaggerate. Do not spread propaganda. Do not hate. The truth is strong enough on its own. Speak it. Write it. Live it.
2. Bear Witness
When you see injustice, do not look away. Take photos. Write names. Record dates. Build archives. The truth needs evidence. Be a witness.
3. Support the Cry
Financially support Oromo media, Oromo legal aid, Oromo human rights documentation. The cry needs resources to reach the world.
4. Pray – And Act
Pray as if everything depends on God. Act as if everything depends on you. These are not contradictions. They are the two wings of the same bird.
5. Forgive – But Do Not Forget
The cry of the Oromo people is not a cry for revenge. It is a cry for justice. Forgiveness is possible without forgetting. And justice is possible without hatred.
6. Unite
The single greatest obstacle to the Oromo cause is Oromo disunity. The cry is one cry. Let it come from one mouth, one heart, one people.
The cry of the people – may God find our truth for us.
This is not a prayer of desperation. It is a prayer of certainty.
Certainty that truth exists, even when it is buried. Certainty that God exists, even when He seems silent. Certainty that justice exists, even when it is delayed.
The Oromo people have cried out for generations. And each generation has added its voice to the cry. Sons and daughters. Mothers and fathers. Farmers and teachers. Fighters and poets.
One day – perhaps not today, perhaps not tomorrow, but one day – that cry will be answered.
The truth will be found.
The buried will be unearthed.
The silenced will speak.
The dead will be remembered.
And Waaqa – the God of truth, the Creator of heavens and earth, the One who hears every cry – will say:
“I have heard. I have seen. I have found your truth. Now – be free.”
Until that day, the Oromo people will not stop crying out.
His name is Nimoonaa Caalii. He is a resident of Ambo city—a town whose very name has become synonymous with Oromo resistance, with political awakening, and with the heavy hand of state security.
On a recent morning, at exactly 6:20 AM, Nimoonaa Caalii was taken.
He was not alone. According to sources, he was arrested alongside “many other people” in an operation that has sent shockwaves through the community. They were detained at Police Station of Kebele 02 in Ambo.
The official reason? Unclear.
The accuser? The city’s security chief, Obboo Hacaaluu Gammachuu—a name that carries a painful irony for anyone familiar with recent Oromo history.
This article investigates what is known about the arrests in Ambo, the pattern of crackdowns targeting Oromo activists and residents, and the deeper questions these events raise about justice, accountability, and the rule of law.
PART ONE: WHO IS NIMOONAA CAALII?
The information available about Nimoonaa Caalii is limited—by design, perhaps, on the part of those who wish to keep his story hidden. What is known:
Name: Nimoonaa Caalii
Status: Resident of Ambo city
Occupation: Not publicly confirmed, but described by community sources as a local activist or involved in community organizing
Date of Arrest: Recent (exact date not specified in available reporting)
Time of Arrest: 6:20 AM
Location of Arrest: Ambo city
Detention Location: Police station, Kebele 02, Ambo
The early morning hour—6:20 AM—is significant. This is not the time of a spontaneous arrest. This is the time of a coordinated operation: security forces moving before dawn, targeting specific individuals, catching them at home, often before families are awake.
This pattern is familiar across Oromia. It is the signature of a state that prefers to act in darkness.
PART TWO: THE ACCUSER – OBBOO HACAALUU GAMMACHUU
The man reportedly leading or authorizing these arrests is Obboo Hacaaluu Gammachuu, the security chief (kantiibaa) of Ambo city.
The name Hacaaluu carries enormous weight in Oromo memory.
Hachalu Hundessa (also spelled Hacaaluu Hundeessaa) was the beloved Oromo singer, activist, and “voice of the revolution” who was assassinated in Addis Ababa on June 29, 2020.
Who Was Hachalu Hundessa?
Fact
Detail
Born
1985 or 1986, in Ambo, Oromia
Died
June 29, 2020 (age 33-34), shot in Addis Ababa
Profession
Singer, songwriter, political activist
Known As
“Artist of the Revolution”
Imprisonment
Arrested at age 17, spent nearly five years in Karchale Prison, Ambo
Legacy
His music became the anthem of Oromo protests (2014-2018); his songs united Oromos and encouraged resistance against injustice
Hachalu’s music gave voice to the pain, hope, and aspirations of the Oromo people. His songs—like “Maalan Jira” (“What Is Mine”)—spoke directly to issues of land alienation, displacement from Addis Ababa, and the struggle for dignity .
His assassination in 2020 sparked massive protests across Ethiopia, leading to dozens of deaths, internet shutdowns, and political instability .
The Irony of the Name
That the security chief of Ambo—the very city that produced Hachalu Hundessa—shares the name Hacaaluu is a bitter irony.
Whether Obboo Hacaaluu Gammachuu is named in honor of the late singer or not is unknown. What is clear is that the man bearing that name is now using state power to arrest residents of the same city—including, reportedly, activists and “sabboontota” (patriots or fighters) who may share the political consciousness that Hachalu Hundessa represented.
It is as if the spirit of resistance that Hachalu embodied is being policed by someone who carries his name.
PART THREE: THE PATTERN – WHAT IS HAPPENING IN AMBO?
The arrest of Nimoonaa Caalii is not an isolated incident. According to the information provided, Obboo Hacaaluu Gammachuu has been “following the mafia group and their actions” and has been sending “many sabboontota and residents” to prison.
Key Questions
Question
What We Know
Who is the “mafia group”?
Unclear. The term could refer to organized criminal networks, political opposition groups, or a label applied by authorities to discredit activists.
What are the charges?
Not publicly disclosed.
How many arrested?
“Many” – exact number unknown.
Legal process?
Unclear if detainees have access to lawyers, family visits, or courts.
Status of Nimoonaa Caalii?
Detained at Kebele 02 police station as of last report.
A Broader Context
Ambo has a long history as a center of Oromo political consciousness. It is the birthplace of Hachalu Hundessa. It is home to Karchale Prison, where generations of Oromo political prisoners have been held and tortured . It is a town that has seen protests, crackdowns, and the heavy presence of security forces for decades.
The current arrests fit a pattern seen across Oromia:
Early morning raids – Security forces target homes before dawn
Vague accusations – Detainees are often not told the specific charges against them
Prolonged detention – Many are held without trial for weeks or months
Lack of transparency – Families are not notified; lawyers are denied access
Use of labels – Activists are called “terrorists,” “mafia,” or “saboteurs” to justify arrests
PART FOUR: THE HUMAN COST – BEYOND THE NAMES
Behind every name—Nimoonaa Caalii, and the “many others” arrested alongside him—is a human story.
A Family’s Morning Destroyed
Imagine: 6:20 AM. The sun is just rising over Ambo. A family is asleep. Children are in their beds. Then—banging on the door. Flashlights. Uniformed men. Demands. Confusion. Fear.
A father is taken. A son is handcuffed. A breadwinner disappears.
The family is left behind: a wife who does not know where her husband has been taken; children who do not understand why their father is gone; parents who age overnight from worry.
This is the reality of political arrest in Ethiopia today. It is not abstract. It is not statistics. It is human life interrupted by state power.
The Prison Cell
Kebele 02 police station in Ambo is now holding Nimoonaa Caalii and others. What happens inside?
History suggests: interrogation. Possibly torture. Denial of medical care. Isolation from the outside world. Pressure to confess to crimes that were never committed.
This is not speculation. It is the documented pattern of Ethiopian security forces in Oromia, as reported by human rights organizations and survivor testimonies for decades.
PART FIVE: THE DEEPER QUESTION – WHO IS THE REAL “MAFIA”?
The information provided states that Obboo Hacaaluu Gammachuu has been “following the mafia group and their actions.”
But the term “mafia” is slippery. In the context of Ethiopian state discourse, it has been used to describe:
Political opposition groups (including Oromo activists)
Organized criminal networks (actual criminals)
Anyone the state wishes to discredit
A Question Worth Asking
If security forces arrest people without charge, hold them without trial, and deny them legal representation—who is acting like a “mafia”?
The state has a monopoly on legitimate violence. But when that power is used arbitrarily, without due process, to suppress political dissent—it ceases to be legitimate. It becomes its own form of organized lawlessness.
The real “mafia” may not be the activists being arrested. It may be the system that arrests them.
PART SIX: THE LEGACY OF HACHALU HUNDESSA
It is impossible to write about Ambo, about arrests, about the name “Hacaaluu,” without invoking the memory of the singer who changed everything.
What Hachalu Sang
Hachalu Hundessa did not just sing love songs. He sang about:
Land rights – The displacement of Oromos from their ancestral lands
Political freedom – The right to speak, to assemble, to govern oneself
Dignity – The refusal to be treated as second-class citizens in one’s own homeland
Resistance – The obligation to fight injustice, even at great personal cost
His music was the soundtrack of the Qeerroo (Oromo youth) movement that shook Ethiopia between 2014 and 2018. His songs were banned from state media. He was harassed, threatened, and ultimately killed .
What Hachalu Said About His Imprisonment
As a teenager, Hachalu was arrested and spent nearly five years in Karchale Prison in Ambo—the same city where Nimoonaa Caalii is now detained .
His father’s advice to him during that imprisonment is worth remembering:
“Jabaadhu gurbaa, hidhaan qoraasuma dhiiraati.” “Be strong, boy. Prison is the crucible of manhood.”
Hachalu emerged from prison not broken, but determined. He wrote his first album while incarcerated. He turned suffering into art. He turned oppression into anthem.
The Question for Today
Would Hachalu Hundessa be arrested today, if he were still alive?
The answer is almost certainly yes.
The same state that could not tolerate his songs cannot tolerate those who carry his legacy. The arrests in Ambo—including of Nimoonaa Caalii—are part of the same dynamic: the state’s fear of Oromo political consciousness, and its willingness to use force to suppress it.
PART SEVEN: WHAT MUST BE DONE
For the sake of Nimoonaa Caalii, for the “many others” arrested, and for the future of justice in Oromia and Ethiopia, several actions are urgently needed:
1. Immediate Legal Access
Detainees must be allowed to see lawyers
Families must be notified of charges and locations
Medical care must be provided for any detainee who needs it
2. Transparency
The charges against Nimoonaa Caalii and others must be made public
The basis for the “mafia” label must be explained
The number of detainees and their identities must be disclosed
3. Accountability
If crimes were committed, the accused deserve fair trials
If no crimes were committed, the accused deserve immediate release
Security officials who violate the law must face consequences
4. International Attention
Human rights organizations should investigate the arrests in Ambo
Diplomatic pressure should be applied to ensure due process
The Oromo diaspora should document and publicize these cases
5. Community Solidarity
Families of detainees should not be left alone
Legal funds should be established
The stories of the arrested must be told
CONCLUSION: A NAME THAT MUST NOT BE FORGOTTEN
Nimoonaa Caalii jedhama.
His name is Nimoonaa Caalii.
He is a resident of Ambo. He was arrested at 6:20 AM. He is held at Kebele 02 police station. He is one among many.
His name may not be known to the world. It may not trend on social media. It may not be spoken in parliaments or written in human rights reports.
But it is a name. And behind that name is a human being. And behind that human being is a family, a community, a people who have suffered too much and waited too long for justice.
The security chief who shares the name of Hachalu Hundessa—Obboo Hacaaluu Gammachuu—has power over Nimoonaa Caalii’s fate today.
But history has a way of reversing such power.
The name Hachalu is remembered not because of the authority he held, but because of the truth he spoke and the injustice he opposed.
The same will be true of Nimoonaa Caalii—and all the others arrested in the darkness of 6:20 AM.
Their names will be remembered. Their stories will be told. And one day, the system that took them will answer.
May justice come to Ambo. May the detainees see freedom. May the cry of the people never be silenced.
“Jabaadhu. Hidhaan qoraasuma dhala namaati.” —“Be strong. Prison is the crucible of human being.”
This applies to Nimoonaa Caalii as well. And to all who are held for the crime of seeking justice.
Seeniin Haroo, kan Aanaa Sabbaa Boruu, Ganda Qanxichaa irratti raawwate, marii gadi fageenyaa afuufa, buttaa, goroorsaa, fi faayidaa sooressaa mul’isa.
Yakkii ishee: isheen lakki jette.
Maatiin Intala Gurguruuf Yaalu
Yeroo dheeraaf, abbaan Haroo fi jaarsoliin maatii ishee namicha sooressa Hirbaayyee Sherkuu wajjin marii turan. Namichi kun haadha warraa lama duraan qaba. Inni Haroo barbaada.
Forced marriage and abduction in Guji Zone expose deep cracks in protection of women and children
By: Daandii Ragabaa
GUJI ZONE – She was 18 years old, a 9th-grade student with dreams of finishing school. Her name is Haroo Xona. And for the past several months, she has been running for her life – not from an enemy, but from her own family, a wealthy man, and a system that refuses to protect her.
Haroo’s story, detailed in a recent investigative account from Sabba Boru District, reveals a conspiracy of forced marriage, abduction, bribery, and official collusion that has left a teenage girl pregnant, traumatized, and still in hiding.
Her crime? She said no.
A Father’s Deal
According to multiple sources, Haroo’s father and family elders had been negotiating with a wealthy local man named Hirbaayyee Sherkuu – a man already with two wives – to force Haroo into marriage.
The family’s motivation was wealth. In exchange for Haroo, Hirbaayyee promised to build a house for her mother, buy vehicles for her brothers, and pay the father handsomely.
Haroo refused. Repeatedly.
To escape this fate, on May 29, 2018, Haroo voluntarily married a young man of her choice, Fayyisaa Galchuu, in Qanxicha Village, Sabba Boru District. It was not a love match. It was survival.
THE ABDUCTION
Haroo’s family did not accept her choice. They sent elders to break the marriage. When the elders refused, the family turned to force.
Armed with local militia and accompanied by Haroo’s own mother, Haannaa Birbissa Dukkallee, and her brother, Paakistaan (Ilfinaa) , the family stormed Fayyisaa’s home. Without any court order, they took Haroo and Fayyisaa and marched them to Qanxicha Village.
At the village office, the chairman – who happened to be a cousin of Hirbaayyee – questioned Haroo. She stated clearly: “I married Fayyisaa by my own choice. My father wants to give me to someone I do not love.”
The chairman ignored her. She was handed over to Hirbaayyee.
TWO DAYS OF TERROR
For two days, Haroo was held at Hirbaayyee’s compound. He slapped her. He grabbed her by the throat. He shouted:
“If you refuse me, I will kill you. I will not leave you for a poor man. You are mine.”
Haroo did not break. She secretly sent a message to her brother, Fiqaaduu Haroo, who brought militia to rescue her. When they surrounded the compound, Hirbaayyee fired a gunshot and fled into the forest with Haroo. She was found by her brother and returned to her family.
But her family, already bought with promises of wealth, pressured her to go back to Hirbaayyee. Terrified, she fled again to Fayyisaa.
THE SECOND ABDUCTION
On June 21, 2018, Haroo and Fayyisaa fled to Haya Diimaa Town in Aagaa Waayyuu District, seeking refuge with relatives.
Her family, working with Hirbaayyee, tracked her using phone calls and GPS. On June 24, 2018, without any court order, armed men – including police from Shaakkisoo District – arrived at the house.
Their excuse? A fabricated theft charge: Haroo had supposedly stolen 180 grams of gold. It was a lie.
They took Haroo and Fayyisaa to the Aagaa Waayyuu Police Station.
THE POLICE WHO COLLUDED
At the station, Haroo begged: “I am afraid for my life. I have committed no crime. This is a conspiracy to return me to a man I do not want. Investigate me here. Do not send me back.”
She wept. She fell to her knees.
The head of the investigation unit, Inspector Waasihuun Taaji’oo, ignored her. He had already made arrangements with Haroo’s family and Hirbaayyee.
The family argued that the case should be transferred to Sabba Boru District – where Hirbaayyee’s influence was strongest. Haroo screamed that she would not go. A local elder, Alangaa Abdulfattaa, intervened, demanding that the police respect her rights.
The police hesitated briefly, then proceeded. They changed vehicles but did not release Haroo. A crowd gathered. Fearing public backlash, the police backed down temporarily – but Haroo and Fayyisaa remained in custody.
THE BRIBERY NETWORK
According to community sources, Hirbaayyee Sherkuu has spent over 15 million Ethiopian Birr bribing officials across multiple districts – police, administrators, judges, and traditional elders.
His goal: to recapture Haroo and eliminate Fayyisaa.
The bribery worked. Despite Haroo’s clear statements, despite the lack of any court order, despite the violence, officials in Sabba Boru, Aagaa Waayyuu, and Oddoo Shaakkisoo districts have consistently sided with the wealthy man.
THE ARREST OF THE INNOCENT
When Fayyisaa’s family continued to resist, they were arrested.
On July 21, 2018, Fayyisaa’s elderly mother, Gororrii Adoolaa (age 70), and his brothers, Fullaasa Galchuu and Gammachuu Galchuu, were taken from their beds. No warrant. No charge. They were held for one month – until Haroo and Fayyisaa were forced apart.
By this time, Haroo was pregnant – by Fayyisaa, not by Hirbaayyee.
THE PREGNANCY AND PRESSURE
Haroo’s family, still in the wealthy man’s pocket, tried to force her to abort. They beat her. They pressured her. They wanted her “clean” for Hirbaayyee.
She refused.
On July 29, 2018, at 1:30 AM, Haroo escaped again. Pregnant. Barefoot. Terrified. She ran through the darkness back to Fayyisaa’s family.
The next morning, Hirbaayyee struck back. At 7:30 AM, a police officer named Hayilee Hirbaayyee led six armed anti-riot police to Fayyisaa’s family home. Without a warrant, they opened fire. A bullet entered the house.
Then they arrested the family again – but Haroo was not there. A local elder, Odaa Dhaddachaa, had hidden her and taken her to the Sabba Boru Police Station.
THE STANDOFF AT THE STATION
At the station, Haroo collapsed. She told officers:
“I have no hope left. The only escape I see is death. They have tried to force me to abort. They have tried to sell me. I will not leave this station until my baby is born. If you send me back to that man, I will kill myself.”
For once, the system paused. Haroo was kept at the station. She gave birth there. The baby was healthy.
But even after the birth, the conspiracy did not end. Hirbaayyee continues to spread money. He continues to pressure authorities. He continues to hunt a teenage girl who only wanted to go to school and marry a man of her choice.
WHAT MUST HAPPEN
The story of Haroo Xona is not an isolated incident. It is a symptom of a deeper rot – where wealth buys justice, where family betrays blood, and where girls are treated as currency.
We call upon:
Federal authorities to launch an immediate, independent investigation into the conspiracy across Sabba Boru, Aagaa Waayyuu, and Oddoo Shaakkisoo districts.
The police and judiciary to arrest and prosecute Hirbaayyee Sherkuu, Inspector Waasihuun Taaji’oo, and all officials who participated in this crime.
Women’s and children’s rights organizations to intervene urgently and provide Haroo with safe shelter and legal protection.
The media to amplify this story so that no wealthy man can buy silence again.
EPILOGUE: A GIRL STILL RUNNING
As of this publication, Haroo Xona is still alive. Still hiding. Still fighting.
She is now a mother. She never returned to school. Her dreams of education are on hold – perhaps forever.
But she has not given up. And neither should we.
“Justice belongs to the one who seeks it,” the Oromo say.
Haroo has sought justice. It is time for the system to answer.
An open letter to every Oromo who still believes in Bilisummaa
By: Daandii Ragabaa
Publication: Advocacy for Oromia Date: April 15, 2026
1. The Bitter Truth
“Dubbiin baay’ee hamaadha.” The truth is very bitter.
For seven years, we have been told that the Oromo struggle is moving forward. We have raised flags. We have sung songs. We have buried our children. And all the while, a cancer was eating the movement from the inside.
This is not the story of our enemies. This is our story. And it is time we looked in the mirror.
2. What We Have Learned
Recent investigative reporting has uncovered what many of us feared but could not prove:
A shadow network – built not by the people, but by the state and its collaborators – has been operating inside the heart of the Oromo movement for years.
Mass killings in Ambo and Waliso were not carried out by outsiders. They were carried out by the same people who now wear the flag and claim leadership.
A secret cell called #120, founded by a former OPDO military member named Mammush, was built for one purpose: to steal the name of the struggle and commit crimes under it.
Genuine Qeerroo leaders confronted this cell, tried to reform it, and were ignored. Then they were killed or imprisoned.
When the political transition came, the same criminals simply changed their hats – from “thugs” to “leaders” – and the world applauded.
3. The Names We Must Not Forget
Let us speak the names that the network wants buried:
JaalGalaana Immaana – consumed by the same people who now rule Ambo.
Jaala Boruu Lammeessaa – a young man who started inside the network, saw the truth, fled to the forest, and was martyred.
Baayisaa Huseen – once a detainee, now the head of security in Ambo, hunting down every Oromo nationalist he ever knew.
Kaasayee Qananiisa – a mafia figure who never fought for liberation, only for theft, now protected by police commanders.
Charuu Kabaa– a killer who operated under his father’s police badge, recently blessed at a hotel with 50,000 birr from the Ambo administrator.
Jaal Battee Urgeessaa-a true fighter who was killed by a gang of thieves; his justice has not yet been done
JaalMo’iboon Baqqalaa-a true fighter who was killed by a gang of thieves; his justice has not yet been done
These are not enemies of Oromia. They are the wolves inside the sheepfold.
4. A Case Study: A Betrayal We Cannot Forgive
One of the most heartbreaking betrayals detailed in this investigation took place in Ambo was a broken case of the representative of OFC- Qana’aa Chuuchee.
Then came the crackdown. Imprisonment. Killings. Displacement.
What followed was a brutal crackdown:
Imprisonment
Killings
Forced displacement
That informant is named Qana’aa Chuuchee – described as the representative of OFC in Ambo. He stayed with the community from Maekalawi to Qilinxoo.
And today, the same people who ordered that crackdown are still in power. Still wearing the flag. Still calling themselves leaders of the struggle.
5. The Child with the Plastic Leg
Perhaps the most obscene symbol of this network is the child with one leg. He was taken to a hotel, displayed, beaten, and abandoned. A performance of suffering. A propaganda prop.
Ask yourself: Who benefits from such cruelty? Not the struggle. Not Oromia.
6. What Is #120?
For those who do not know: #120 was one of approximately 120 underground structures built by Oromo youth during the height of the Qeerroo protests. Some were genuine. Some were not.
#120 was built by Mammush – a former OPDO fighter. Its goal was never liberation. Its goal was crime.
When genuine Qeerroo discovered this, they tried to absorb and reform the cell. But the criminals refused. And when the political winds changed, the #120 members simply changed their koofiyyaa (hat) and declared themselves the new leadership.
Today, the mafia that runs Ambo – and parts of the broader Oromo political landscape – is the direct descendant of #120.
7. The System That Protects Them
Let us be clear: The Prosperity Party (PP) is a mafia system. It does not fight crime. It recruits it.
The same state that once jailed genuine Oromo nationalists now protects the criminals who wear the nationalist mask. Why? Because fake nationalists are useful. They can control the people. They can steal the money. They can kill the real opposition.
And the people? The people are told: “These are your leaders. These are the heroes of the struggle.”
We have been lied to.
8. What Must Be Done
This op-ed is not written to destroy hope. It is written to save it.
We cannot heal what we refuse to name. So here is what we demand:
First: A full, independent investigation into the killings in Ambo and Waliso – with international observers if necessary.
Second: The immediate removal and prosecution of Baayisaa Huseen, Kaasayee Qananiisa, Charuu Kabaa, and all known operatives of the #120 network.
Third: Protection for whistleblowers. The person who provided the information for this investigation is still alive – for now. That should not be temporary.
Fourth: A truth and reconciliation process within the Oromo movement. We must separate genuine liberation structures from criminal infiltrators.
Fifth: Public disclosure. Every person who transitioned from Woyyane-era detention into current leadership must be named and vetted.
Sixth: Community vigilance. Ask the hard questions: Who benefits from this struggle? Who dies? Who gets rich?
9. To the Young Qeerroo and Qarree
You are the reason the struggle still breathes. But you must also be the reason it is cleansed.
Do not follow flags blindly. Do not chant names you have not investigated. Do not give your blood to those who sell your future.
The real heroes are not the ones on hotel stages. The real heroes are the ones in the forest, in the prisons, and in the graves. The real heroes are the ones who refused to wear the mask.
10. A Final Word
The truth is very bitter. But it is the only medicine.
For too long, we have been silent because we feared division. But division is already here. It was created by the very people we now protect.
Let us not be afraid to say: The struggle was hijacked. And we looked away.
No more looking away.
Bilisummaa – but only if it is real. Nagaa – but only if it is just.
Thousands gather on Ebla 15, 2026, to remember the fallen, raise the flag, and renew the vow never to forget
By: Daandii Ragabaa
Date: Ebla 15, 2026 (April 15, 2026)
PROLOGUE: The Day the Dead Speak
There are days that pass like any other. And then there is Ebla 15 – the day when the dead refuse to stay silent.
On this morning, under a sky the color of old iron, hundreds of Oromo men, women, and children gathered at the Head Office of the ABO (Arsi, Bale, Oromo) in the Gullalle district of Addis Ababa. They came not because they were invited. They came because something in their blood would not let them stay home.
This was Guyyaa Gootota Wareegamtoota Oromoo – the Day of Oromo Martyrs and Heroes.
It is a day with no official decree. No government proclamation. No permission slip from any palace. It is a people’s holiday, carved from memory and kept with fire.
And on Ebla 15, 2026, the people of Gullalle proved that memory is still alive.
PART ONE: The Gathering
Faces in the Crowd
By 8:30 AM, the compound of the ABO headquarters was already full.
The elders arrived first. They came on buses, on foot, leaning on canes and on each other. Their faces were maps of grief – wrinkles carved by tears and time. They sat on plastic chairs in the shade, their walking sticks planted like spears. They did not speak much. They had done their talking over decades. Now they came to witness.
The mothers stood at the edges. Infants were tied to their backs with cotton wraps. Some nursed while standing. Others held faded photographs – sons, daughters, husbands – who would never grow old. They did not weep. Perhaps they had no tears left.
The youth – the Qeerroo and Qarree – filled the center of the compound. They wore the Oromo flag not as decoration but as declaration. Black, red, and white on t-shirts, on scarves, on wristbands, on fingernails. Their phones were raised, recording everything. Not for social media fame. For evidence. For the archive that no government will keep.
At the front of the compound stood a simple wooden stage. No velvet ropes. No VIP section. No flowers. Just a microphone, a worn banner, and a flag that had been folded and unfolded so many times that its edges were frayed into whispers.
The banner read:
“Guyyaa Gootota Wareegamtoota Oromoo – Ebla 15, 2026 – Hin Irraanfatnu. Hin Lolti Dhaabnu.”
(Oromo Martyrs and Heroes Day – We will not forget. We will not stop struggling.)
PART TWO: The Silence That Roared
One Minute That Lasted a Lifetime
At exactly 9:00 AM, the master of ceremonies stepped to the microphone. He was a soft-spoken man with steel in his jaw.
“Before we speak,” he said, “we listen.”
One minute of silence.
It is easy to write those words. It is much harder to describe what happens when five hundred people stop breathing at the same time. The wind itself seemed to hesitate. A child coughed somewhere in the back, and the sound was enormous. An old man shifted his weight, and the creak of his sandals was a thunderclap.
In that minute, the dead were not remembered. They were present.
Then the silence broke – not with applause, but with a single voice singing an old Oromo lament. One by one, others joined. By the end of the first verse, the entire crowd was singing. The song had no title. But everyone knew the words. It was the song grandmothers sing when they think no one is listening. The song of rivers and horses and a time before borders.
PART THREE: The Names
A Litany of the Lost
Then came the reading of the names.
For nearly two hours, a rotation of speakers stepped to the microphone and read aloud the names of Oromo martyrs. Some were historical – 19th-century horseback warriors who rode against colonial cannons. Others were recent – young people killed in protests between 2014 and 2026. Some names were known across Oromia. Others were known only to a single village, a single family, a single mother.
The list included:
Alemitu G. – killed, 2016, Adama.
Biruk T. – disappeared, 2018, never found.
Chaltu D. – shot, 2015, Bale.
Dawit I. – died in prison, 2020, denied medical care.
Feyissa L. – 19 years old, 2014, Ambo.
Galaana Immaana – consumed by those who now claim leadership.
Jaala Boruu Lammeessaa – who fled the network and was martyred in the forest.
After each name, the crowd responded with a low, rumbling chant:
“Nu jirra. Hin irraanfatne.” (We are here. We have not forgotten.)
It was not a cheer. It was a vow.
By the time the last name was read, no one was standing still. But no one had left.
PART FOUR: The Flag That Refuses to Burn
A Cloth More Powerful Than Bullets
At exactly 12:00 noon, the ceremony reached its spiritual peak.
Two young Qarree – sisters, no older than twenty – walked slowly to the flagpole. Between them, folded into a perfect square, was the Oromo flag. They did not rush. Every step was a prayer.
When they reached the pole, they unfolded the cloth with the reverence of priests handling a relic.
This flag – whether the black, red, and white or the green, red, and yellow, depending on tradition – has been banned, burned, trampled, and called illegal at various times in modern Ethiopian history.
And yet, on Ebla 15, 2026, it rose again.
As the colors caught the midday sun, an old man in the back of the crowd fell to his knees. He was not praying to God. He was praying to the cloth.
“Forgive us,” he wept, his voice cracking like dry earth. “We are still fighting. We have not given up.”
No one told him to stand. No one told him to be quiet. Some moments are too sacred to interrupt.
PART FIVE: The Five Pillars
What the Heroes Died For
The keynote address was delivered by a senior ABO official who requested anonymity for security reasons. He did not speak of politics. He spoke of debt.
He raised five fingers and named five sacred words of the Oromo struggle:
Oromo Word
Meaning
What the Martyrs Died For
Nageenya
Justice / Peace / Well-being
A country where identity is not a death sentence.
Misooma
Development
Schools in villages, not just palaces in the capital.
Badhaadhina
Progress
Moving forward, even when the road is soaked in blood.
Dimokiraasii
Democracy
The right to speak, assemble, and choose – without permission.
Nagaa
True Peace / Safety / Tranquility
Sleeping through the night without fear of a knock on the door.
“These five words,” the speaker said, his voice low and fierce, “are not decorations. They are debts. Our heroes paid with their lives. We must pay with our actions.”
The crowd did not clap. They raised their fists. And for a moment, Gullalle was not a neighborhood in Addis Ababa. It was an idea.
PART SIX: Voices from the Crowd
What the Living Said
This reporter spoke with several attendees. Their words speak louder than any analysis.
Bontu, 23, university student: “I was not born when many of these heroes died. But I carry their names in my phone. I read them every morning. Ebla 15 is the day I become honest about who I am.”
Jirenya, 58, farmer (who traveled three hours by bus): “My brother was killed in 2015. No one was arrested. No one apologized. The government forgot him. But I will not. Today, I am his memory.”
Marga, 19, high school student: “The old people cry. But we, the young – we are not just crying. We are planning. We are organizing. The next heroes are not dead yet. They are standing right here.”
Hundessa, 72, retired teacher (walking with a cane): “I have attended these ceremonies for twenty years. Each year, there are new names. That breaks my heart. But each year, there are also new young faces. That gives me hope.”
Faarax, 34, shopkeeper (who left his store unattended): “I did not close my shop. I left my son in charge. If I lose my business for being here, so be it. What is money without Nageenya? Nothing.”
PART SEVEN: The Shadow Over the Celebration
A Warning from Inside
Not all the voices at the ceremony were voices of pure grief. Some were voices of warning.
Multiple attendees, speaking on condition of anonymity, told this reporter that not everyone who wears the flag loves the struggle. They spoke of infiltration, of criminal networks that have hijacked parts of the movement, of leaders who were once prisoners of the old regime and are now protectors of the new one.
One source, who identified himself as a former insider of a group called #120, described how a shadow cell built by a former OPDO military member named Mammush had systematically stolen money, committed killings, and then rebranded as legitimate leadership when the political winds changed.
“The truth is very bitter,” he said. “But if we do not speak it, the heroes died for nothing.”
Another source pointed specifically to Baayisaa Huseen – now the head of security in Ambo – as a man who once sat in prison alongside genuine nationalists, only to emerge as a hunter of the very people he once called comrades.
“He knows every Oromo nationalist by name. And he is eliminating them, one by one.”
These allegations were not the focus of the ceremony. But they hung in the air like smoke – invisible, but impossible to ignore.
PART EIGHT: The Closing Vow
A Promise Made with Raised Hands
As the sun began to soften over Gullalle, the crowd did not disperse quickly. They lingered. They hugged strangers. They exchanged phone numbers. They stood in front of the flag for photographs that would be hidden in private albums, not shared on public feeds.
Then, a young Qeerroo – no older than seventeen – climbed onto a plastic chair and shouted:
“Ebla 15 next year – where will we be?”
The crowd roared back – not rehearsed, but raw:
“Stronger! More! Free!”
The final moment of the ceremony was not a speech. It was a collective vow.
Everyone raised their right hand – young and old, man and woman, farmer and student, rich and poor – and repeated after the master of ceremonies:
“We will not forget. We will not forgive injustice. We will keep walking.
Until Nageenya is not a word, but water. Until Misooma reaches the last village. Until Badhaadhina cannot be stopped. Until Dimokiraasii is for every Oromo. Until Nagaa is not a dream, but breakfast.”
Then silence.
And then, from the back of the crowd, a single voice began to sing the Oromo anthem. One by one, everyone joined. By the second verse, Gullalle was no longer a location on a map. It was a congregation.
EPILOGUE: What the Night Carried
The chairs were folded. The banner was rolled. The flag was lowered and placed in a wooden box – the same box that has carried it for years, from one secret ceremony to the next. The crowd melted back into the streets of Addis Ababa – some to homes, some to hiding, some to the next meeting.
But something stayed in the air above Gullalle on the night of Ebla 15, 2026.
It was not smoke. It was not sound. It was not even tears.
It was the breath of heroes – past, present, and those still unborn.
And as long as that breath moves, Guyyaa Gootota Wareegamtoota Oromoo will never be just a date on a calendar.
It will be a living fire.
For Those Who Were Not There
If you are reading this in a city far from Oromia – in Minneapolis, in Berlin, in Nairobi, in Melbourne – know this:
Ebla 15 is not a date. It is a thread.
It connects a horseback warrior of 1896 to a Qeerroo with a cracked smartphone in 2026. It connects a mother who buried her son to a teenager who has never seen peace but still believes in it. It connects the martyrs who fell in Ambo and Waliso to the millions who still whisper Bilisummaa in their sleep.
The Oromo martyrs and heroes did not die so that you would cry forever.
They died so that you would act.
So act.
Learn a name. Speak a truth. Raise a flag – even if only in your heart.
Because as they chanted in Gullalle on Ebla 15, 2026:
Hundreds gather to honor fallen heroes, raise banned flag, and renew calls for justice and peace on Ebla 15
By Maatii Sabaa GULLALLE, FINFINNE – April 15, 2026 (Ebla 15)
GULLALLE – Hundreds of Oromo men, women, and youth gathered today at the Head Office of the ABO (Arsi, Bale, Oromo organization) in the Gullalle district of Addis Ababa to observe Guyyaa Gootota Wareegamtoota Oromoo (Oromo Martyrs and Heroes Day), an annual commemoration held on Ebla 15 (April 15).
The event, which lasted from 9:00 AM to 3:00 PM, included a minute of silence for the fallen, the reading of hundreds of names of martyrs, cultural performances, and the raising of the Oromo flag – a symbol repeatedly banned in public spaces over the years. No violence or security incidents were reported.
The gathering was peaceful but emotionally charged. Attendees included elderly community members, mothers with young children, and large numbers of Qeerroo and Qarree (Oromo youth activists). Organizers described the event as a “people’s holiday” – not sanctioned by any government but observed annually by Oromo communities both inside Ethiopia and in the diaspora.
A banner at the venue read: “Guyyaa Gootota Wareegamtoota Oromoo – Ebla 15, 2026 – Hin Irraanfatnu. Hin Lolti Dhaabnu.” (Translation: “Oromo Martyrs and Heroes Day – We will not forget. We will not stop struggling.”)
One of the most powerful moments came when a list of martyrs’ names was read aloud. The names included individuals killed in protests between 2014 and 2026, as well as historical figures from the 19th century. After each name, the crowd responded in unison: “Nu jirra. Hin irraanfatne.” (“We are here. We have not forgotten.”)
An elderly woman, who identified herself only as the mother of a son killed in 2018, held up a faded photograph and told the crowd: “I did not come to speak. I came to show you his face. Do not let his memory die.”
At exactly 12:00 noon, two young women raised the Oromo flag at the ABO compound. The flag – which has been banned at various times in modern Ethiopian history – flew for approximately three hours before being lowered and stored in a wooden box.
Witnesses described an elderly man falling to his knees as the flag rose, weeping and saying: “Forgive us. We are still fighting. We have not given up.”
A senior ABO official, who spoke on condition of anonymity for security reasons, delivered the keynote address. He outlined five core values that he said Oromo martyrs died for:
Nageenya (Justice / Peace / Well-being)
Misooma (Development)
Badhaadhina (Progress)
Dimokiraasii (Democracy)
Nagaa (True Peace / Safety)
“These five words are not decorations,” the speaker said. “They are debts. Our heroes paid with their lives. We must pay with our actions.”
The newspaper spoke with several attendees:
Bontu, 23, university student: “I was not born when many of these heroes died. But I carry their names in my phone. I read them every morning.”
Jirenya, 58, farmer (traveled three hours by bus): “My brother was killed in 2015. No one was arrested. No one apologized. Today, I am his memory.”
Marga, 19, high school student: “The next heroes are not dead yet. They are standing right here.”
Hundessa, 72, retired teacher: “Each year, there are new names. That breaks my heart. But each year, there are also new young faces. That gives me hope.”
Ebla 15 (which corresponds to April 15 in the Gregorian calendar) has become a significant date in Oromo collective memory. While not recognized as an official public holiday by the Ethiopian government, it is widely observed by Oromo communities as a day to honor both historical figures (including 19th-century horseback warriors who fought colonialism) and contemporary martyrs killed in protests and political violence.
The ABO (Arsi, Bale, Oromo – a prominent Oromo civil society and cultural organization) has organized commemorative events on Ebla 15 for several years, though the scale and location have varied due to security constraints.
A visible but low-key security presence was observed in areas surrounding Gullalle throughout the day. No arrests or confrontations were reported. The event ended peacefully at approximately 3:00 PM, after a collective vow in which attendees raised their right hands and recited a pledge to continue the struggle for justice, democracy, and peace.
Organizers declined to provide an official estimate of crowd size, but eyewitnesses placed attendance between 300 and 500 people.
As of press time, the Ethiopian government had not issued an official statement regarding the commemoration.
The ceremony concluded with the Oromo anthem sung by the entire crowd, followed by a slow dispersal. Many attendees lingered to take photographs with the flag and exchange contact information for future organizing.
A young Qeerroo shouted as the crowd began to leave: “Ebla 15 next year – where will we be?” The crowd responded: “Stronger! More! Free!”
On Ebla 15, 2026, at the ABO headquarters in Gullalle, Oromo martyrs and heroes were not just remembered. They were summoned back to life.
By Oromia News Agency Photography by SBO Magazine:The Oromo Voice / Horn of Africa Review (Quarterly Edition) Issue: Spring 2026 – “Memory as Resistance”
GULLALLE, FINFINNE – There is a kind of silence that does not ask for permission. It arrives before the first speaker steps to the microphone, before the first flag is raised, before the first tear falls. It is the silence of a crowd that knows it is standing on bones.
On the morning of Ebla 15, 2026 (April 15) , that silence settled over the Head Office of the ABO in Gullalle like a second sky. Hundreds had come – not because they were summoned, but because something in their blood would not let them stay home.
This was Guyyaa Gootota Wareegamtoota Oromoo – the Day of Oromo Martyrs and Heroes.
And in a country where official history often forgets the names of the fallen, the living came to remember.
I. The Gathering: A Portrait of a People
“We do not come here to mourn. We come here to witness. Mourning is private. Witnessing is public. And the world must see.” – Bontu, 23, university student
By 8:30 AM, the compound was already full. Not the polished fullness of a state ceremony, but the raw, breathing fullness of a people who have learned to gather in corners and behind walls.
The elders sat on plastic chairs in the shade, their walking sticks planted like spears in the earth. Their eyes were not wet. They had done their crying decades ago. Now they watched – guardians of a memory too heavy for the young to carry alone.
The mothers stood at the edges, infants tied to their backs with cotton wraps. They did not speak much. But when they did, they sang. Old songs. Songs about rivers and horses and a time before borders. Songs that grandmothers had taught them in the dark.
The youth – the Qeerroo and Qarree – filled the center. They wore the Oromo flag not as a decoration but as a declaration. Black, red, and white on t-shirts, on scarves, on wristbands, on fingernails. Their phones were out, recording everything. Not for social media fame. For evidence. For the archive that the state refuses to keep.
At the front, a simple wooden stage. No velvet ropes. No VIP section. Just a microphone, a banner, and a flag that had been folded and unfolded so many times that its edges were frayed.
The banner read:
“Guyyaa Gootota Wareegamtoota Oromoo – Ebla 15, 2026 – Hin Irraanfatnu. Falmaa Hin Dhaabnu.” (Oromo Martyrs and Heroes Day – We will not forget. We will not stop struggling.)
II. The Names: A Litany of the Lost
At 9:00 AM sharp, the master of ceremonies – a soft-spoken man with steel in his jaw – stepped forward.
“Before we speak,” he said, “we listen.”
One minute of silence.
It is easy to write the words “one minute of silence.” It is harder to describe what it feels like when five hundred people stop breathing at once. The wind itself seemed to hesitate. A child coughed, and the sound was enormous. An old man shifted his weight, and the creak of his sandals was a thunderclap.
Then the names began.
They came in waves. Alphabetical by first name. No hierarchy. A martyr is a martyr.
Jal Berso Wabe(Megersa Beri) – A warrior whose name meant defiance. He did not kneel.
Jal Geda Gemeda(Demse Techane) – A strategist. He fought not with rage alone, but with intelligence.
Jal Dori Beri(Yigezu Benti) – A leader who carried the weight of his people on his shoulders.
Jal Felmeta / Chechebsa(Umer) – A name spoken in two tongues, one spirit. Unbroken.
Jal Meri Gelan – A shadow on the battlefield. His enemies saw him only when it was too late.
Jal Aba Tiki(Aboma Mitku) – A fire that could not be extinguished. He died standing.
Jal Ire Ana Qechele(Dinsa) – A guardian of the hills. He taught that land is not dirt – it is mother.
Jal Feferi Doyo – A voice that sang resistance when singing was a crime.
Jal Dhadiycho Boru – A horseman who rode not for glory, but for the next generation.
Jal Dhadiycho Muleta – A name that closes the list but never the struggle. He is remembered.
JalAlemitu G. – killed, 2016, Adama.
Jal Biruk T. – disappeared, 2018, never found.
JalChaltu D. – shot, 2015, Bale.
JalDawit I. – died in prison, 2020, no medical care.
JalFeyissa L. – 19 years old, 2014, Ambo.
Each name landed like a stone in still water. And after each name, the crowd answered with the same low rumble:
“Nu jirra. Hin irraanfatne.” (We are here. We have not forgotten.)
By the time the list ended – nearly two hours later – no one was standing still. But no one had left.
“I did not come to speak. I came to show you his face. He was 22. He loved football and poetry. Now he is a memory. Do not let his memory die.” – An elderly mother, holding a photograph of her son
III. The Five Pillars: What the Heroes Died For
The keynote address was not a political speech. It was a lesson.
A senior ABO official – whose name we withhold for security reasons – stepped to the microphone and asked a question that silenced the crowd:
“What did they actually die for? Not slogans. Not flags. What?”
Then he held up five fingers. One for each of the sacred pillars of the Oromo struggle.
Oromo Word
Meaning
Translation for the Living
Nageenya
Justice / Peace / Well-being
A country where your identity is not a death sentence.
Misooma
Development
A school in your village, not just a palace in the capital.
Badhaadhina
Progress
Moving forward, even when the road is soaked in blood.
Dimokiraasii
Democracy
The right to speak, to assemble, to choose – without permission.
Nagaa
True Peace / Safety / Tranquility
Sleeping through the night without fear of a knock on the door.
“These five words,” the speaker said, his voice low and fierce, “are not decorations. They are debts. Our heroes paid with their lives. We must pay with our actions.”
The crowd did not clap. They raised their fists. And for a moment, Gullalle was not a neighborhood in Finfinne. It was an idea.
IV. The Flag: A Cloth That Refuses to Burn
At exactly 12:00 noon, the ceremony reached its spiritual peak.
Two young Qarree – sisters, no older than twenty – walked slowly to the flagpole. Between them, folded into a perfect square, was the Oromo flag.
They did not rush. Every step was a prayer.
When they reached the pole, they unfolded the cloth with the reverence of priests handling a relic. Red, Green, Red. But the meaning is the same.
This cloth has been banned. Burned. Trampled. Called illegal.
And yet, on Ebla 15, 2026, it rose again.
As the flag caught the midday sun, an old man in the back of the crowd fell to his knees. He was not praying to God. He was praying to the cloth.
“Forgive us,” he wept, his voice cracking like dry earth. “We are still fighting. We have not given up.”
No one told him to stand. No one told him to be quiet. Some silences are too sacred to interrupt.
“The old people cry. But we, the young – we are not just crying. We are planning. The next heroes are not dead yet. They are standing right here.” – Marga, 19, high school student
V. The Voices: What the Living Said
Here, in their own words, are fragments of the day.
Jirenya, 58, farmer – traveled three hours by bus: “My brother was killed in 2015. No arrest. No apology. The government forgot him. But I will not. Today, I am his memory. That is why I came.”
Marga, 19, high school student – first time attending: “I used to think heroes were in history books. Dead people. Today I learned that heroes are also the ones who show up. The ones who refuse to be silent. That is me now.”
Faarsee, 34, shopkeeper – came straight from his store: “I did not close my shop. I left my son in charge. If I lose my business for being here, so be it. What is money withoutNageenya? Nothing.”
Hundessa, 72, retired teacher – walked with a cane: “I have attended these ceremonies for twenty years. Each year, there are new names. That breaks my heart. But each year, there are also new young faces. That gives me hope.”
VI. The Closing: A Vow Made of Breath
As the sun began to soften over Gullalle, the crowd did not scatter. They lingered. They hugged strangers. They exchanged phone numbers. They stood in front of the flag for photographs that would be hidden in private albums, not shared on public feeds.
Then, a young Qeerroo – no older than seventeen – climbed onto a plastic chair and shouted:
“Ebla 15 next year – where will we be?”
The crowd roared back – not rehearsed, but raw:
“Stronger! More! Free!”
The final moment was not a speech. It was a collective vow.
Everyone raised their right hand. Young and old. Man and woman. Farmer and student. They repeated after the master of ceremonies:
“We will not forget. We will not forgive injustice. We will keep walking.
UntilNageenyais not a word, but water. UntilMisoomareaches the last village. UntilBadhaadhinacannot be stopped. UntilDimokiraasiiis for every Oromo. UntilNagaais not a dream, but breakfast.”
Then silence.
And then, from the back of the crowd, a single voice began to sing the Oromo anthem. One by one, everyone joined. By the second verse, Gullalle was no longer a location on a map. It was a congregation.
Epilogue: What the Night Carried
The chairs were folded. The banner was rolled. The flag was lowered and placed in a wooden box – the same box that has carried it for years, from one secret ceremony to the next. The crowd melted back into the streets of Addis Ababa.
But something stayed.
Not smoke. Not sound. Not even tears.
Something else.
If you had stood in the compound of the ABO headquarters at dusk on Ebla 15, 2026, you would have felt it: a warmth that had nothing to do with the sun. A vibration that had nothing to do with noise.
The martyrs, it seemed, had not come to be mourned.
They had come to check on the living.
And the living, for one day at least, did not disappoint.
Ebla 15 is not a date. It is a thread.
It connects a horseback warrior of 1896 to a Qeerroo with a cracked smartphone in 2026. It connects a mother who buried her son to a teenager who has never seen peace but still believes in it.
The Oromo martyrs and heroes did not die so that you would cry forever.
They died so that you would act.
So act.
Learn a name. Speak a truth. Raise a flag – even if only in your heart.
Because as they chanted in Gullalle on Ebla 15, 2026:
There are dates that pass like any other Tuesday. And then there is Ebla 15 – April 15.
On this day, the Oromo people do not merely turn a page on the calendar. They turn their faces toward history. They straighten their backs. They remember.
Oromo Heroes Day is not a gift from any government. It is not a decree from any palace. It is a day carved from the bone of the people themselves – a day when the sons and daughters of Oromia pause to honor those who bled, those who fell, and those who rose again.
Ebla 15. Remember the date. Because the heroes certainly did.
Who Is an Oromo Hero?
If you walk through the villages of Arsi, the highlands of Bale, the streets of Adama, or the neighborhoods of Minneapolis and Toronto, you will get different answers. But they all sing the same tune.
An Oromo hero is:
The Qeerroo (youth) who stood in front of bullets so that the elderly could walk behind them.
The Qarree (young woman) who sang resistance songs while being dragged away.
The Gadaa father who kept the law of the Oromo alive for 500 years – without an army, without a prison – only with seera (custom) and safuu (moral order).
The horseback warrior of the 19th century who looked a European cannon in the eye and did not blink.
The mother who named her child Bilisummaa (Freedom) even when it was illegal.
The farmer who painted the flag on his barn door with crushed flowers and charcoal.
Heroes are not always the ones who win. Sometimes they are the ones who refuse to lose.
Why Ebla 15? Why April 15?
Every people have a sacred calendar. For the Oromo, time is kept not only in numbers but in spirit. Ebla is a month of transition – from dry to rain, from waiting to planting. It is a month of hope.
April 15 has become, in modern Oromo memory, a touchstone of courage. On various years across the late 20th and early 21st centuries, this date (or its nearby days) witnessed protests, uprisings, and moments when ordinary Oromo did extraordinary things – raising a flag that was forbidden, singing a song that was banned, demanding rights that were denied.
The heroes of April 15 did not have weapons. They had words. They had unity. They had the memory of their ancestors.
And for that, the powers that be feared them.
So Ebla 15 is not a random date. It is the people’s own appointment with history – made without permission, kept without apology.
The Five Gifts the Heroes Left Us
On this Oromo Heroes Day, let us count the inheritance. The heroes did not leave gold or land. They left something more precious: five ideas that cannot be killed.
Oromo Word
Meaning
What the Hero Demanded
Nageenya
Justice / Peace / Well-being
A world where the poor are not punished for being poor.
Misooma
Development
Not skyscrapers for the rich, but clean water for the village.
Badhaadhina
Progress
Moving forward – even one step – and never backward.
Dimokiraasii
Democracy
The right to speak, to choose, and to be heard.
Nagaa
Peace / Safety / Tranquility
Sleeping without fear. Waking without dread.
These five words are the true monument to every Oromo hero who ever fell. And they are the unfinished work that falls on our shoulders today.
How to Truly Celebrate Ebla 15
You can post a flag on social media. You can wear the colors. You can share an old photograph of a protest or a warrior. All of that is good.
But here is how to truly make this Oromo Heroes Day worthy of the name:
1. Learn one hero’s name you have never heard before. Not the famous ones. The unknown one. The woman who fed fugitives. The teenager who wrote poetry in blood. Speak their name aloud today.
2. Forgive a fellow Oromo. Heroes are not perfect. The struggle has sometimes been divided by clan, by region, by ideology. Today, choose unity. Send a message to an Oromo you have been angry with. Say: “Ebla 15. Let us stand together.”
3. Teach a child the five words. Nageenya. Misooma. Badhaadhina. Dimokiraasii. Nagaa. If every Oromo child knows these five words by heart, the struggle will never die.
4. Do one brave thing. It does not have to be big. Speak truth in a room where silence is safer. Wear the flag pin where it is frowned upon. Post the Oromo anthem. Heroes are not special. Heroes are ordinary people who decide: Today, I will not be afraid.
5. Remember the fallen – and fight for the living. Honoring the dead is sacred. But the dead do not need our tears. They need our action. Ask yourself: What would the hero of Ebla 15 want me to finish today? Then go do it.
A Letter From an Oromo Hero (Imagined)
Dear child of Ebla 15,
I do not know your name. But I know your face. It is the same face I saw in the river when I was young – tired, hopeful, angry, loving.
I died so that you could read these words in your language. I fell so that you could stand. I was silent so that you could speak.
Do not waste my death on grief. Waste it on action.
If you see injustice – speak. If you see a divided Oromo – unite. If you see the flag burned – paint another one on your heart.
I did not die to become a statue. I died to become a wind at your back.
Now go. Ebla 15 is yours.
— An Oromo Hero
Closing: Happy Oromo Heroes Day
So today, April 15 – Ebla 15 – we say it loudly and softly, in cities and villages, in freedom and in hiding:
Happy Oromo Heroes Day.
Not happy because everything is finished. But happy because we are still here.
Not happy because the struggle is over. But happy because the struggle has us.
The heroes of Ebla 15 are not in their graves. They are in the straight back of the child who raises the flag. They are in the clenched fist of the protester. They are in the quiet prayer of the mother.
Today, look at your reflection.
You are not just remembering heroes.
You are becoming one.
Bilisummaa! Nagaa! Happy Oromo Heroes Day – Ebla 15, April 15!
Call to Honor the Fallen, Celebrate Resistance, and Reaffirm Commitment to Justice, Democracy, and Peace
[Oromia– April 15, 2026] – Today, millions of Oromo people across Oromia, Ethiopia, and diaspora communities in North America, Europe, Australia, and Africa are observing Oromo Heroes Day – known as Guyyaa Gootota Oromoo – on Ebla 15, which falls on April 15.
This annual day of remembrance honors the countless known and unknown heroes who have sacrificed their lives, liberty, and livelihoods for the rights, dignity, and freedom of the Oromo people. From 19th-century horseback warriors who fought colonialism to modern-day Qeerroo (youth) and Qarree (young women) who have led peaceful protests for justice and democracy, the day pays tribute to the enduring spirit of Oromo resistance.
A Day Rooted in Memory, Not Decree
Oromo Heroes Day is not a government-declared holiday. It is a people’s holiday – born from grassroots memory and observed with flags, songs, poetry, cultural events, and moments of silence. The date, Ebla 15 (April 15), has become a symbol of courage, particularly linked to modern uprisings where unarmed Oromo civilians raised the banned Oromo flag and demanded fundamental rights.
“We do not celebrate because the struggle is finished,” said Dhabessa Wakjira, community leader in Melbourne. “We celebrate because our heroes gave us a reason to continue. Every April 15, we remind ourselves and the world: the Oromo people have not been erased. We are here. We remember. And we will keep marching toward Nageenya (justice), Misooma (development), Badhaadhina (progress), Dimokiraasii (democracy), and Nagaa (true peace).”
Five Pillars of the Oromo Struggle
Community organizations and cultural institutions are using Oromo Heroes Day to reaffirm five core values that heroes fought and died for:
Nageenya – Justice, peace, and well-being for all, regardless of ethnicity or social status.
Misooma – Equitable development that reaches the most marginalized villages and families.
Badhaadhina – Progress, both material and spiritual, moving forward without forgetting the past.
Dimokiraasii – Genuine democracy, including free expression, assembly, and the right to self-determination.
Nagaa – Lasting peace and safety, where no family fears a midnight knock on the door.
Events and Observances
On April 15 / Ebla 15, Oromo communities are holding:
Flag-raising ceremonies (where permitted) and cultural gatherings.
Virtual panels discussing the legacy of Oromo heroes and the future of the struggle.
Poetry readings and music performances featuring traditional krar and modern resistance songs.
Moments of silence at 12:00 PM local time to honor the fallen.
Social media campaigns using hashtags such as #OromoHeroesDay, #Ebla15, #April15, and #Nagaa.
Calls for International Attention
Human rights organizations and Oromo advocacy groups are using the day to draw international attention to ongoing concerns, including political prisoners, restrictions on peaceful assembly, and the continued criminalization of the Oromo flag in some contexts. Supporters are urging the international community to:
Recognize Oromo Heroes Day as a day of significance for human rights.
Call for the release of imprisoned Oromo activists and journalists.
Support dialogue and genuine political inclusion for the Oromo people, Ethiopia’s largest ethnic group.
Statements from Community Representatives
“On Ebla 15, we stand on the shoulders of giants. Our heroes did not have social media or international platforms. They had courage. Today, we honor them by continuing their unfinished work.” — Dhabessa Wakjira, Oromo community organizer, Melbourne, Australia.
“The Oromo struggle is not about hate. It is about Nagaa – peace with dignity. Our heroes dreamed of a day when an Oromo child could speak their language, sing their songs, and walk the earth without shame. That dream is not yet reality, but every April 15, we get closer.” — Yaasoo Kabbabaa, Oromo cultural activist, Finfinne, Oromia.
How to Support or Participate
Members of the media, human rights defenders, and the general public are encouraged to:
Amplify Oromo voices by sharing content directly from Oromo creators and organizations.
Educate themselves on Oromo history, including the Gadaa democratic system and the legacy of resistance.
Attend or cover local Oromo Heroes Day events (contact below for diaspora chapter information).
Use respectful language – recognize that for many Oromo, this day is both a celebration and a mourning.
About Oromo Heroes Day
Oromo Heroes Day (Ebla 15 / April 15) is an annual observance honoring Oromo historical and contemporary figures who sacrificed for the rights, identity, and freedom of the Oromo people. The day is observed globally by Oromo communities regardless of legal recognition. It is a day of cultural pride, political reflection, and intergenerational remembrance.
“Bilisummaa! Nagaa! Happy Oromo Heroes Day – Ebla 15, April 15!”
The Blood Tribute of the Heroes: Advanced by the Oromo Liberation Struggle
Ebla 15 – Day of Oromo Martyred Heroes – Official Message from the Oromo Liberation Front (ABO)
Finfinnee – April 14, 2026
—
TO: Members and Supporters of the Oromo Liberation Front (ABO), All Freedom Fighters and Patriots of the Oromo People, and the Broader Oromo Nation
SUBJECT: Commemoration of Ebla 15 – Day of Oromo Martyred Heroes (2026)
—
The Oromo Liberation Front (ABO) extends its greetings to all members, supporters, freedom fighters, patriots, and the entire Oromo nation on the occasion of **Ebla 15, the Day of Oromo Martyred Heroes for the year 2026**.
1. Significance of Ebla 15
Ebla 15 is a day of profound solemnity and honor. It serves as the annual commemoration of those heroes who, without hesitation, sacrificed their lives to:
– Break the chains of subjugation;
– Restore the dignity of Oromo nationhood;
– Achieve freedom and self-determination;
– Manifest a homeland long denied; and
– Defend the inalienable rights of the Oromo people.
2. Historical Background of the Day
The designation of Ebla 15 as the Day of Oromo Martyred Heroes finds its origin in the **Shiniggaa Martyrdom of 1980**, a pivotal event in the history of the Oromo liberation struggle. On that day, ten senior fighters and high-ranking leaders of the ABO — including those from the Hayyu-Duree and Itti Aanaa leadership structures — were martyred together under harrowing circumstances.
What rendered this event uniquely honorable was the manner of their martyrdom. The fallen heroes refused to be bound back-to-back and executed by enemy forces. Instead, they embraced the cause of unity and freedom for their people, stood shoulder to shoulder, and faced death collectively, falling into a single grave. It is in recognition of this supreme sacrifice that Ebla 15 was established as the Day of Oromo Martyred Heroes, to be remembered by generations forever.
3. Scope of Commemoration
The ABO emphasizes that Ebla 15 is not limited to commemorating only its own fallen members. Rather, it honors **all Oromo sons and daughters** who have perished in the struggle against the enslavement of the Oromo people — whether they fell in direct confrontation, were targeted by state-sponsored violence, or succumbed to various forms of foreign domination. All who fought against the oppressive system and sacrificed their lives for the rights and dignity of the Oromo nation are equally honored on this day.
4. The Price of Liberation
The Oromo nation has paid an immense and irreplaceable price in blood for its land and freedom. Countless individuals have suffered physical wounds, lost family members, and forfeited their property. From the youngest to the oldest, every segment of Oromo society has contributed to this struggle. The martyrs — whose names cannot be fully enumerated — shine eternally in the annals of history. Their *gumaa* (blood tribute) is carried forward by the success of the cause for which they gave their lives.
5. Renewed Commitment of the ABO
As the ABO commemorates Ebla 15, the organization renews its call to all fighters, members, and supporters: continue the struggle with unwavering resolve, undeterred by any difficulties or circumstances, so that the cause for which the martyrs sacrificed may be fully achieved. The ABO further reaffirms its commitment to a peaceful struggle, even as it honors those who fell in battle.
6. Electoral Participation – A Historic Decision
The commemoration of Ebla 15 in 2026 carries distinct significance. For the first time in its history, the ABO has decided to participate in **Ethiopia’s 7th round of national elections**. This decision reflects the organization’s strategic commitment to:
– Achieve lasting peace for the Oromo people;
– Realize the goals of the Oromo liberation struggle — the very goals for which tens of thousands of Oromo sons and daughters were martyred; and
– Pursue all available peaceful avenues without betraying the sacrifice of the fallen.
To succeed in this endeavor, the ABO calls upon its members, fighters, and supporters to work with greater dedication than ever before, to remain prepared to overcome all challenges, and to stand united in support of the organization.
7. Call to the Oromo Nation
The ABO addresses the broader Oromo nation with the following appeal: to achieve lasting peace, to obtain true freedom, to secure the right to self-determination and nationhood, to attain democracy and equality, and to foster mutual development — choose the ABO. It is the organization in which your own children have united, fought for your rights, and paid the highest price with their lives.
Choosing the ABO means fulfilling the very goal of the Oromo liberation struggle — the goal for which the heroes, the sons and daughters of the Oromo nation, fought and fell.
8. Concluding Affirmations
– Ebla 15 is the Day of Oromo Martyred Heroes.
– The Martyred Heroes of Oromo shall be remembered forever; they shall be honored forever.
Ebla 15 – Day of Oromo Martyred Heroes – Message from the ABO (Oromo Liberation Army)
To the members and supporters of the ABO, all freedom fighters and patriots of the Oromo people, and the broader Oromo nation: Welcome, and may Ebla 15, the Day of Oromo Martyred Heroes of this year 2026, meet you and us alike.
The day of Ebla 15 is a solemn and honorable day. It is the day we remember the heroes who, without hesitation, gave the most precious gift of all — their lives — to break the chains of slavery, restore the dignity of nationhood, achieve freedom, manifest a homeland we once lost, and fight for the rights of Oromo. They gave their lives.
Within the great struggle for Oromo liberation, countless heroes have fallen in the front lines and advanced the fight. They waded through blood-soaked trenches. To save Oromo nationhood from extinction, to secure the Oromia that exists on the ground today, and to bring about the rights and victories the Oromo have now achieved — tens of thousands of sons and daughters of the nation, brave ones, determined and resolute ones, whose names cannot be fully counted, have joined together in the vanguard struggle of the ABO and paid the ultimate price of their lives.
From the leaders of the organization to its members and supporters, they have written a glorious history. Thousands upon thousands have sacrificed their lives for the freedom of their people. All of them shine like stars in the annals of history. They will be remembered by generations forever.
The Shiniggaa Martyrdom of 1980 holds a special place in the history of the Oromo liberation struggle. It left a unique imprint on the memory of our fighters and our people.
On that day, ten senior fighters and high-ranking leaders of the ABO — from Hayyu-Duree and Itti Aanaa — were martyred together in a single location under deeply harrowing circumstances.
What made that martyrdom most honorable and unforgettable is the manner in which our beloved ones faced their end with supreme resolve. They refused to be tied back-to-back and shot by the enemy. Instead, they embraced the unity and freedom of their people, stood shoulder to shoulder, and faced death together, falling into a single grave side by side. That is why Ebla 15 was established as the Day of Oromo Martyred Heroes — to be remembered forever.
When the ABO decided that Ebla 15 should be commemorated as the Day of Oromo Martyred Heroes, we remind ourselves repeatedly that this day is not only for remembering our fallen members. It is for all Oromo sons and daughters who died resisting the enslavement of the Oromo people — whether they fell refusing oppression, were targeted by roving violence, or exposed and fought against foreign systems of domination in their various forms. Those who believed that after slavery, in different places, the burden of subjugation must be lifted from the Oromo people so that their rights might be honored as a nation — all those who fought against the oppressive system and fell as martyrs — it is for them that Ebla 15 was established as a Day of Heroes.
The Oromo nation has paid a great and heavy price in blood for its land and freedom — this is beyond dispute. The harm inflicted under oppression is incomparable, and the number of martyrs has never diminished the resolve. Because they refused oppression and being oppressed, they continue to sacrifice for their freedom.
Many Oromo have been physically wounded in the liberation struggle, and many have lost their families and property. Young and old, every segment of society — for the sake of this struggle’s goal — has paid the highest price, even the loss of family. All the fallen martyrs shine clearly in the pages of history. Their gumaa (blood tribute) is carried forward by the success of the cause for which they gave their lives.
As we honor Ebla 15, the Day of Oromo Martyred Heroes, the ABO renews its message: while remembering our martyrs and renewing our resolve, fighters, members, and supporters must continue the struggle steadfastly, undeterred by any difficulties or circumstances, so that the cause for which they sacrificed may be achieved.
To all Oromo sons and daughters who believe in the just cause of the Oromo people — freedom and the right to self-determination — and to the Oromo nation as a whole, our message is this: let us all, wherever we stand, intensify the struggle by fulfilling the pledge we owe to our martyrs — to repay their gumaa with freedom.
What makes this year’s Ebla 15, the Day of Oromo Martyred Heroes (2026), distinct is that the ABO has decided, for the first time in its ongoing peaceful struggle, to participate in Ethiopia’s 7th round of elections. Through this decision, the ABO is making a historic effort to achieve peace for our people and to realize the goal of Oromo liberation — the very goal for which tens of thousands of Oromo sons and daughters were martyred — without betraying their sacrifice.
To succeed in this work, members, fighters, and supporters of the ABO must work harder than before, be prepared to overcome any challenges, and affirm with one voice that we stand with our organization in every way.
To the broader Oromo nation: to achieve lasting peace, to obtain true freedom, to secure the right to self-determination and nationhood, to attain democracy and equality, and for mutual development — we call upon you to choose the ABO, the organization in which your own children have united, fought for your rights, and paid the highest price of their lives.
Choosing the ABO means fulfilling the goal of the Oromo liberation struggle — the goal for which the heroes, the sons and daughters of our nation, fought and fell. Therefore, our message is: Choose the ABO.
Ebla 15 is the Day of Oromo Martyred Heroes!
The Martyred Heroes of Oromo shall be remembered forever! They shall be sung forever!
He left behind a wife, three daughters, and a thriving business. He walked into the wilderness not because he hated comfort, but because he loved his people more than his own breath.
In the quiet dawn of 1960, in a small village called Kuyyuu Giccii, nestled in the Meettaa Robii district of Aanaa Shinoo, West Shawaa, a child was born. The land was green. The air smelled of fresh buna (coffee) blossoms. No one knew then that this child—named Lagaasaa, son of Wagii—would one day become a name that governments would hunt and that a nation would memorize.
His father was Obbo Wagii Meettaa. His mother was Adde Buzunash Ayyaanaa. They were farmers, like most of their neighbors. But they gave their son something more precious than land: the gift of education.
The Schoolboy Who Dreamed Beyond the Fields
Young Lagaasaa Wagii walked barefoot to primary school in Bakkamee, where he sat on a wooden bench and learned to read and write—grades 1 through 4. For grades 5 through 8, he walked farther, to Hincinnii. Then, like many ambitious Oromo youth of his generation, he made the long journey to Finfinne (Addis Ababa) for grades 10 and 11.
But the classroom was not enough. The world was changing. In 1975, with the Dergue regime tightening its grip, Lagaasaa decided to learn a trade. He studied mechanics and driving—skills that would later prove as useful in the underground struggle as any weapon.
He worked. He saved. He traded. For seven years, he lived in the town of Dirree Dhawaa, moving goods, carrying merchandise on long journeys to western Oromiyaa. He was, by all accounts, a successful businessman. He had a future.
He also had a conscience.
The Call That Could Not Be Ignored
By 1990, Lagaasaa Wagii was a married man. On Waxabajjii 27, 1987 (Ethiopian calendar), he had wed Adde Waynisheet Geetaahu. Together, they had three beautiful daughters: Bilisummaa Lagaasaa, Fireehiwat Lagaasaa, and Natsaannat Lagaasaa. Their names meant Freedom, Joy, and Salvation—as if the father was already dreaming of a different Ethiopia.
But the suffering of the Oromo people—the land grabs, the cultural suppression, the daily humiliations—gave him no rest. He watched his people be treated as strangers in their own homeland. And something inside him broke open.
In 1990, he made a decision that would cost him everything. He left his beloved family, his business, his security. He walked west.
He joined the Oromo Liberation Front (ABO).
The Making of a Commander
Lagaasaa Wagii was not a natural soldier. He was a mechanic, a trader, a father. But he was also a fast learner. In 1991, he completed the 18th round of political and military training. He was assigned to the western front. He rose quickly—not because he sought power, but because he had something rarer: judgment.
He was sent for advanced training in Beelmuuguu in 1991. Then to Qaaqee as an administrator. Then, when the Dergue fell and the TPLF-led government (Woyyaanee) took over, the struggle did not end. It only changed shape.
Between 1993 and 1998, Lagaasaa Wagii moved from ordinary membership to senior military command. He fought in the western lowlands. He crossed into Sudan and back. He was part of the 1994 return to western Oromiyaa with newly organized forces. When the Woyyaanee regime crushed Sudanese bases in Kurmuk and Giizan in 1997, Lagaasaa was among those who held the line, ensuring the resistance did not collapse.
The Organizer of Exiles
Between 1998 and 2000, Lagaasaa was sent for special training abroad. When he returned, he was given a new mission: not to fight, but to build. In the diaspora, among Oromo communities living outside Ethiopia, he worked tirelessly to organize the scattered sons and daughters of Oromia.
In the year 2000, he achieved something remarkable. He helped establish the Oromo Community Association of Eritrea (Waldaa Hawaasa Oromoo Eritrea). He ensured that Oromos living in exile could contribute to the struggle—not just with money, but with unity.
The Lion of the Western Zone
By 2002, Lagaasaa Wagii had become a legendary figure on the western front. Under the overall command of Jaal Irreessaa Caalaa, he served as a commander of the Western Zone of the Oromo Liberation Front (WBO). He led operations in Qeebbee, Dambi Dolloo, Gidaamii, Begii, and Mandii—areas where the Woyyaanee military was heavily entrenched.
After Jaal Irreessaa Caalaa was executed, Lagaasaa Wagii took over as the commander of the Western Zone. From that moment until his own martyrdom on November 5, 2008 (05/11/2008), he led with a combination of tactical brilliance, personal courage, and deep love for his fighters.
The regime feared him. They called him “Abbaa tooftaa fi malaa”—the father of strategy and cunning. But his own people called him something else: Jaallataa (the beloved one).
The Meaning of Martyrdom
The Oromo have a proverb: “Namni gaafuma dhalate du’e” — Everyone born will die. But there is death, and there is sacrifice. Lagaasaa Wagii did not die because he was unlucky. He died because he chose to give his life for the rights of his people.
On that day in November 2008, after years of fighting—hungry, thirsty, exhausted, climbing mountains, crossing forests, enduring rain and sun—Lagaasaa Wagii fell.
But those who knew him say he did not fall defeated. He fell standing. He fell with his face toward the enemy. He fell as a goota—a hero whose blood does not disappear into the soil but waters the tree of freedom.
The Legacy That Refuses to Die
Lagaasaa Wagii left behind three daughters. He left behind a wife who never stopped waiting. He left behind comrades who still whisper his name before battle.
He was never wealthy. He never held a ministerial post. He never signed a peace treaty from a position of power. But he did something harder: he remained faithful to the end.
His name is not taught in Ethiopian government schools. No statue stands in Finfinne. But in the villages of West Shawaa, in the refugee camps of Sudan, in the living rooms of Oromo families in Minneapolis and Rome, his story is told.
They say: “Jaal Lagaasaa Wagii beela’e, dheebodhe, dadhabe, garuu hin jenne. Baddaa fi gammoojjii keessatti rooba, qorraa fi aduu danda’e.” (He knew hunger, thirst, and exhaustion—but he never gave up. He endured the rain, the cold, and the sun in the highlands and lowlands.)
Epilogue: The Unfinished Sentence
There is a famous Oromo saying, repeated by the poet Mammo Mazamir:
“Qabsaawaan Kufus Qabsoon Itti Fufa!!!” (Even when the fighter falls, the struggle continues!)
Jaal Lagaasaa Wagii is gone. But the walk he began—from a small village in Kuyyuu Giccii to the battlefields of western Oromiyaa—has not stopped. Thousands of young Oromos now carry his spirit. They do not carry his bones. They carry his example.
And one day, when the Oromo flag flies not in secret but in the open sky, over a land where justice is not a dream but a law, someone will point to that flag and say:
“This cloth was sewn with many threads. But one of the strongest threads was a man from Shinoo—a mechanic, a trader, a father, a freedom fighter. His name was Lagaasaa Wagii.”
Until that day, the struggle continues.
“Mirgi saba ofii akka kabajamuu fi abbaan biyyummaa ummata Oromoo akka mirkanaahu taasisuuf waan hunda caalaa gootummaan murteessa dha.” (To ensure the rights of one’s people are respected and the nationhood of the Oromo is affirmed, nothing is more essential than heroism.)
— In everlasting memory of Jaal Lagaasaa Wagii (1960 – November 5, 2008)
In the highlands of Tuulama, where the horizon rolls like an endless green drum, there is no king on a throne. There is only a cycle—a sacred, unforgetting wheel of five names.
In an era when most nations measure leadership by coups, elections, or hereditary bloodlines, the Oromo people have for centuries followed a stranger, wiser rhythm: the Gadaa system.
Among the Tuulama Oromo, this ancient democracy is not a relic in a museum. It is a living, breathing constitution written not on parchment, but on memory, ritual, and the rotating faces of fathers who pass power like a baton in a relay that has never stopped.
The system has five drums. Each beats for eight years. And together, they have kept time for over five centuries.
The Five Gates of Power
The Tuulama Gadaa cycle is built around five maddaa (parties or classes), each taking its turn to rule. They are:
Roobalee – the rainmakers, the openers of the cycle.
Birmajii – the sharpeners, who hone the laws of the previous generation.
Meelbaa (Horata) – the gatherers, who are in power today.
Muudana (Michillee) – the annointers, who will inherit the sceptre next.
Halchiisa – the closers, who seal the cycle before handing it back to Roobalee.
👉 Right now, at this moment in history: the Gadaa Meelbaa holds the staff of authority. 👉 Next in line:Gadaa Muudana (Michillee) will take the baallii (ceremonial flag) when the birin (transition) comes.
The Fathers Who Did Not Die
The Gadaa system is not anonymous. It remembers names. Over the last 32 years—four full cycles of eight years each—four Abbaa Gadaa (fathers of the law) have stood at the center of the Oromo universe:
Halchiisa – Abbaa Gadaa Lammaa Baarudaa
Roobalee – Abbaa Gadaa Naggasaa Nagawoo
Birmajii – Abbaa Gadaa Bayyanaa Sanbatoo
Meelbaa – Abbaa Gadaa Goobana Hoolaati
Each man was not a dictator. In the Gadaa way, an Abbaa Gadaa is a custodian, not a commander. He sits under the odaa tree, listens to the assembly (chaffee), and speaks only after the women, the elders, and the youth have had their say.
Democracy, Oromo style, was never borrowed from Athens. It grew from these highlands.
When the Cycle Was Wounded
The Gadaa system has not had an easy path. Colonial conquest, imperial absorption, and modern state centralization—first under the Abyssinian emperors, then under Marxist Dergue, and later under ethnic federalism—all tried to break the clock.
For decades, the formal installation of an Abbaa Gadaa was driven underground. Rituals became whispers. The odaa tree became a dangerous meeting place.
But the Oromo people, stubborn as the volcanic rock of their homeland, found ways to keep the cycle turning.
They invented adaptive traditions:
Foollee – a system of camouflage, where Gadaa rituals were hidden inside coffee ceremonies and weddings.
Goodannaa – a form of itinerant counsel, where elders traveled secretly between villages to align the lunar and solar calendars of the cycle.
Haarrii Buqqifannaa – a practice of renewal through symbolic “plowing,” where old wounds were ritually buried to make way for a new Gadaa generation.
These were not defeats. They were proof that a living tradition cannot be outlawed—only forced to sing in a quieter voice.
The Clock Is Still Ticking
Today, as Oromia navigates the pressures of modernity—urbanization, social media, formal state law—the Gadaa system faces new questions. Can a rotational indigenous democracy coexist with a national parliament? Should the Abbaa Gadaa be recognized by the modern constitution?
In Tuulama, the elders do not rush to answer. They sit. They listen to the wind in the sycamore. And they repeat the old law:
“Gadaan hin citu. Gadaan hin badu. Gadaan waan bineensi nyaate hin ta’u.” (The Gadaa does not break. The Gadaa does not perish. The Gadaa is not food for wild animals.)
Epilogue: The Fifth Drum
There is a reason the Tuulama cycle has five gadaa—not four, not six. Five is the number of fingers on a hand. Five is the number of directions: east, west, north, south, and the center—where the odaa tree stands.
The Halchiisa closes the circle. The Roobalee opens it again. And between them, the Oromo people have learned that power is not a prize to hoard but a season to steward.
Today, as Gadaa Meelbaa holds the staff, the drum of Muudana is already being tuned. Somewhere in the countryside of Tuulama, a boy born into the next class is being taught the names of his ancestors—not as history, but as a promise.
He will rule in thirty years. And when he does, the clock will still be ticking.
The Gadaa system is not a memory. It is a meeting that never adjourned.
“Sirni Gadaa yeroo adda addaatti rakkoo seenaa keessa darbeera. Haata’u malee, uummanni Oromoo duudhaa isaa tikfachuuf jira.” (The Gadaa system has passed through many historical trials. Nevertheless, the Oromo people live to preserve their custom.)
He carried two degrees—one in pharmacy, another in law. But his greatest prescription was not a pill or a legal brief. It was the idea that the Oromo people deserved a name, a flag, and a future.
In the cold, damp cells of an Ethiopian prison in 1978, a man in his forties scratched a final message into a piece of torn cardboard. He was not a soldier by training. He had never fired a weapon in anger. But he was about to become one of the most dangerous men the Dergue regime had ever captured.
His name was Jaal Baaroo Tumsaa. To his people, he was simply Baro Tumsa—the quiet revolutionary who built an army not with bullets first, but with books, chemistry, and a radical belief in Oromo unity.
The Making of a Nationalist
Born in 1938 in western Oromia, Baro Tumsa grew up in a world where speaking Afaan Oromo in a classroom could earn you a slap. Where Oromo history was written by the conquerors. Where the word Oromo itself was sometimes used as an insult.
But young Baro had a different chemistry in his blood.
He excelled in school—brilliant with numbers, sharper with words. He became a pharmacist, learning the precise science of healing bodies. But he soon realized that a deeper sickness afflicted his people: the sickness of silence, of land alienation, of a culture forced underground.
So he went back to school. This time, he studied law.
Now he had two weapons: the knowledge of how to heal, and the knowledge of how to fight injustice within a system that had been designed to ignore the Oromo.
The Quiet Architect of the OLF
By the early 1970s, Baro Tumsa had become a restless soul. He watched as successive Ethiopian regimes—imperial, then Marxist—treated Oromia as a colony within a colony. Land was taken. Languages were suppressed. Young Oromo men were conscripted into wars that were not theirs.
Baro Tumsa began to meet with other Oromo intellectuals, students, and farmers in secret. In living rooms, under odaa trees, in the back rooms of pharmacies in Addis Ababa, they asked a forbidden question: What if the Oromo organized for themselves?
That question became the seed.
In 1973, Baro Tumsa became one of the principal founders of the Oromo Liberation Front (OLF). Unlike the armed struggle that would follow, his early role was ideological and structural. He helped draft the movement’s early political programs. He connected rural grievances with urban intellect. He argued, passionately, that Oromo liberation was not a tribal ambition—it was a democratic necessity for all of Ethiopia.
He was, in every sense, the goota jiraachuu—the living hero who gave his life so that Oromiyaa could be built from the bones of the fallen.
The Arrest and the Silence
The Dergue, the brutal military junta that seized power in 1974, had long ears. By 1978, Baro Tumsa was on their most-wanted list. They did not want him for a crime. They wanted him because he had given the Oromo people something harder to kill than any guerrilla: a political consciousness.
He was arrested. Not in a dramatic firefight, but in the quiet way revolutions are often crushed—a knock at dawn, a hood over the head, a car disappearing into the gray morning.
For weeks, he was interrogated. The regime wanted names. They wanted confessions. They wanted him to renounce the OLF on the radio.
According to surviving accounts from fellow prisoners, Baro Tumsa refused every time. He did not shout. He did not weep. He simply repeated, in his calm pharmacist’s voice: “You can kill a man. You cannot kill a people’s right to exist.”
Freedom Fighter in the Mountains of Gara Mulata
Tumsa left behind the comfort of his privileged life in Finfinne to join the nascent guerrilla force of the OLF in the eastern command in 1978 and sacrificed his life for the freedom of the Oromo nation.
By then he was married and a father of three children. He comes from an unprivileged background and established himself as a member of the urban elite educated and well connected middle class.
However, he swapped these luxuries for the hardships in the mountains of Oromia for the sake of the freedom of his people whom he loved with all his heart and mind. The circumstances of his death remains unclear to this day.
He was 40 years old.
His body was never returned. No grave bears his name. The regime buried him in anonymity, hoping that without a tomb, the man would also be forgotten.
Why Ebla 15 Still Burns
Every year on Ebla 15, Oromos across the globe—from Finfinne (Addis Ababa) to Minneapolis, from Nairobi to Melbourne—pause. They do not hold parades with permission. They do not wait for government recognition. They light candles. They recite poetry. They name their children Baro and Tumsa.
They remember not just a man, but a generation: the gootota tokkummaa Oromoo—the heroes of Oromo unity who were executed together in 1980 so that a movement could live.
And they say a simple prayer, whispered in Afaan Oromo:
“Bakka jirru maratti maqaa isaa ol kaafnee faarsina.” (Wherever we are, we raise his name and praise him.)
The Unfinished Pharmacy
Baro Tumsa left behind no mansion, no autobiography, no statue in a capital city. What he left behind was something more fragile and more powerful: an example.
He showed that an intellectual can be a revolutionary. That a pharmacist can heal a nation’s spirit before its body. That law, when it fails the people, must be resisted by a higher law—the law of dignity.
Today, the OLF has gone through splits, peace talks, and transformations. Ethiopian politics has shifted in a thousand ways. But the question Baro Tumsa asked in 1973 has never gone away: Who speaks for the Oromo?
And every Ebla 15, the answer echoes back: We do. Because he did.
Epilogue: The Cardboard Testament
They say that in his final days, Baro Tumsa wrote a message on a scrap of cardboard—a last prescription. It was smuggled out of prison by a guard whose heart had turned.
It read, in part:
“Do not cry for me. Cry for the land that makes its children prisoners. Then dry your tears. And finish what we started.”
The cardboard was lost. The guard disappeared. But the words have been memorized by thousands of Oromo youth who never met Baro Tumsa, but who carry him in their names, their songs, and their unbroken walk toward Bilisummaa—freedom.
He was not just a hero of the past. He is a verb in the present tense.
“Goota ofii wareegamee dhiiga lafee isaan Oromiyaa ijaare darbe.” (A hero who sacrificed himself, whose blood and bones built the foundation of Oromia, has passed.)
Ebla 15. Remember. Raise his name. Continue the walk.
Remembering the Ebli 15 Martyrs of the Shinnigga Pit
(SHINNIGGA, Ethiopia) – In the chronicles of a people’s struggle for freedom, certain dates become etched not in ink, but in bone. For the Oromo people, one such date is **Ebli 15, 1980** (roughly late April in the Gregorian calendar). On that single, terrible day, the soil of Shinnigga drank a blood cocktail of revolutionary courage, religious tolerance, and unbreakable unity.
This is not merely a story of death. It is a story of how ten men—commanders and fighters of the Oromo liberation struggle—faced a common grave and refused to let their faith divide them.
They were the sons of *Oromiyaa hadhaa dhiigaa fi lafee isaaniin ijaaran*—Oromia built by their blood and bones. They were warriors of the *Adda Bilisummaa Oromoo* (Oromo Liberation Front), leaders who had carried the weight of the struggle during its darkest hours. Among them were legendary figures like Hayyuu-Duree Jaal Magarsaa Barii (Barisoo Waabee) and his deputy, Itti Aanaa Jaal Gadaa Gammadaa (Damisee Tacaanee).
But when the end came, they were not just commanders. They were brothers.
The Trap at Shinnigga
By 1980, the Oromo liberation army had become a thorn in the side of the Derg regime. The fighters, seasoned by the harsh terrains of Waabe and the strategic depth of the *Dirree Qabsoo Hidhannoo*, were pushing toward a new phase of the armed struggle. But war is also a game of betrayal.
While on a critical mission, a group of ten key figures—including the intellectual giants and tactical minds of the movement—were ambushed. Somali *Shifta* militia, operating as proxies for the regime, surrounded them near the rugged lowlands of Shinnigga. Outnumbered and cut off from reinforcements, the Oromo fighters fought to their last bullet.
They were not killed in the heat of battle.
They were captured alive.
The Pit
The militia dug a single, wide pit. It was not a grave for an individual. It was a mass tomb designed to swallow an ideology. The ten prisoners were forced to kneel at its edge. Their hands were bound. Their clothes were torn and stained with the dust of a long march.
According to survivors’ accounts passed down through the Oromo oral tradition, the *Shifta* executioners tried one final trick. They separated the prisoners by their names—some Muslim, some Christian, some following the *Waaqeffannaa* tradition of their ancestors.
“You see,” a commander allegedly said to the prisoners in a low, mocking voice. “You fought together. But you will die apart. Let each man pray to his own god before we throw him in.”
The executioners expected fear. They expected a scramble for last rites—a final, petty division to prove that the Oromo cause was a fragile lie.
They were wrong.
‘We Are One Name’
Jaal Magarsaa Barii, the senior commander, looked at his men. There was Jaal Abbaa Xiiqii (Abboomaa Mitikku), the strategist. Jaal Doorii Barii (Yiggazuu Bantii), the fearless cavalry leader. Jaal Faafam Dooyyoo, whose voice had rallied thousands. Falmataa (Umar/Caccabsaa), whose faith was as steadfast as his rifle. Jaal Irra’anaa Qacalee (Dhinsaa), Jaal Dhaddachoo Boruu, Jaal Dhaddachoo Mul’ataa, and the youngest, Jaal Marii Galaan.
Ten men. Ten names. One nation.
Without a word, they stood up. Jaal Magarsaa did not ask for a Christian priest. Jaal Gadaa did not ask for a *sheikh*. Falmataa did not turn his back on the others. Instead, they linked their arms—bound as they were—and stepped forward together.
“*Maqaa amantaan gargar hin baanu*,” Jaal Magarsaa declared. “We do not divide names by religion. Dig the pit wider or throw us in together. We are Oromo first.”
According to legend, Jaal Gadaa Gammadaa, the deputy, turned to the executioner and smiled. “You want to see us pray? Watch this.”
And together, the ten men—Muslim, Christian, and Waaqeffataa—intoned a single prayer. Not to Mecca. Not to the Cross. But to *Waaqa Oromoo*, the God of their land, who had seen their mothers’ tears and their fathers’ bones scattered across the highlands.
The executioners, unnerved, shoved them into the pit.
They fell as one. They died as one.
The Legacy of Ebli 15
Forty-six years have passed. The Shinnigga pit has long since been covered, but no grass grows there without a story attached. In Oromia today, the names of those ten men are whispered in schools, sung in protest songs, and invoked in political meetings.
They are called the *Ebli 15 Wareegamtoota*—the martyrs of Ebli 15.
They did not die for a flag or a single faith. They died for an idea: that an Oromo is an Oromo, whether they pray in a church, a mosque, under a tree, or in silence.
Jaal Marii Galaan, the youngest of the ten, was just 19 years old. Before he was pushed into the pit, he reportedly looked at the sky—the wide, unforgiving sky of Shinnigga—and shouted:
“*Oromiyaan hin duutu!* Oromia will not die!”
It hasn’t. And every Ebli 15, when the Oromo people gather to remember, they do not mourn ten separate men. They mourn one collective heart that beat for freedom until the dirt filled their mouths.
And in that final, defiant act of unity, they won a victory the pit could never bury.
(THE HAGUE, Netherlands – April 10, 2026)– In a historic gathering that shook the diplomatic silence of this international city, members of the Oromo diaspora assembled in the heart of The Hague on Friday to declare their independence from the Ethiopian government, citing decades of alleged atrocities, border violations, and ongoing military campaigns in their homeland.
The declaration, which unfolded in a solemn ceremony near the Peace Palace, saw hundreds of Oromo men and women raise their voices in a chorus of defiance. For nearly four hours, testimonies echoed through the square—stories of loved ones lost, villages razed, and a people determined to chart their own destiny.
“We are no longer asking,” said one community elder who helped organize the event, speaking on behalf of the gathered crowd. “We are declaring. The blood of our people has soaked the soil of Oromia for too long.”
A Protest Born from Blood
The independence declaration did not emerge from a vacuum. Organizers and participants pointed to three specific grievances that have galvanized the movement:
Extrajudicial killings – Allegations that Ethiopian security forces have systematically targeted civilians in Oromia, with witnesses describing massacres in rural villages that never make international headlines.
Border violations – Claims that the Ethiopian government has unilaterally redrawn regional boundaries, carving up traditional Oromo lands and displacing entire communities without consultation or consent.
Ongoing war – The continuation of military operations across Oromia, which protesters described not as counterinsurgency but as collective punishment against the Oromo people.
“We have watched our children die. We have watched our elders dragged from their homes,” said a woman who identified herself only as Fatuma, her voice cracking as she addressed the crowd. “We are here because The Hague is where the world comes to talk about justice. And we need the world to finally listen.”
The Hague as a Stage for Justice
The choice of location was deliberate. The Hague, home to the International Court of Justice and the International Criminal Court, has long served as the symbolic capital of international law. For the Oromo diaspora—scattered across Europe, North America, and Australia—it represented the one place where their voices might carry legal and moral weight.
“Ironically, we cannot seek justice in our own land because the institutions there are controlled by those who oppress us,” said one young protester, a university student who arrived in the Netherlands as a refugee three years ago. “So we bring our case here, to the world.”
Throughout the afternoon, speakers took turns reading aloud the names of villages they said had been destroyed. Each name was followed by a moment of silence. The list stretched long enough that by the twentieth village, many in the crowd were weeping openly.
Testimonies of the Displaced
The gathering also served as an informal truth commission. Diaspora members who had fled Ethiopia at different times over the past decade compared accounts, finding disturbing consistencies in their stories.
One man, a former farmer from western Oromia, described how government forces arrived in his village at dawn. “They separated the men from the women. They took my brother behind a tree. I heard the shot. I never saw him again.” He fled to Kenya the following week, eventually making his way to Europe through a patchwork of smugglers and humanitarian visas.
Others spoke of families scattered across three continents, of parents who refused to leave ancestral lands despite the dangers, of children born in refugee camps who have never seen the Oromia their parents describe with such aching nostalgia.
“Independence is not a slogan for us,” said another organizer, a woman in her forties wearing traditional Oromo colors woven into a contemporary scarf. “It is survival. It is the only guarantee that what happened to our parents will not happen to our children.”
Ethiopian Government Response
As of press time, the Ethiopian government had not issued an official response to the declaration. However, in previous statements regarding diaspora activism, Ethiopian officials have characterized such movements as the work of “a small, extremist fringe” amplified by foreign media and hostile foreign governments.
Human rights organizations tracking the Horn of Africa have offered more nuanced assessments. Multiple reports from international bodies have documented abuses in various Ethiopian regions, though attributing responsibility remains complex in a country fractured by ethnic federalism and competing armed groups.
What Independence Would Mean
The declaration in The Hague carries no immediate legal weight. No nation has extended recognition. No ambassador has been dispatched. But for the thousands of Oromo in the Netherlands—and the millions more across the global diaspora—the act of declaration was itself a form of liberation.
“Legally, we know what we are doing today changes nothing on the ground tomorrow,” one speaker acknowledged to the crowd. “But politically? Morally? We have said what needed to be said. We have drawn our line. The world cannot claim it did not hear us.”
As evening fell over The Hague, the crowd did not disperse angrily. Instead, they stood in small clusters, embracing one another, singing old songs that had been passed down through generations—songs of resistance, of longing, of a homeland they refuse to surrender.
The declaration papers, signed by dozens of community representatives, were formally presented to a representative of the city government—a symbolic gesture, but a gesture nonetheless.
“We will send copies to the United Nations. To the African Union. To every embassy that will accept mail from us,” the lead organizer said. “And if no one responds, we will declare again. And again. Until our independence is no longer a declaration. It is simply a fact.”
For now, the Oromo diaspora in the Netherlands has planted its flag—not on soil, but in history. Whether the world will salute or look away remains to be seen. But on April 10, 2026, in The Hague, a people spoke.
In the dense forests and rugged terrain of western Oromia, a band of liberation fighters once gathered under the cover of darkness. Their mission was audacious. Their fate was sealed. And their memory now echoes across generations every April 15.
The year was 1980. The Ethiopian Derg regime, led by Mengistu Haile Mariam, was at the height of its brutal military rule. Armed resistance had become the only language the regime understood. And the Oromo Liberation Front (ABO) was preparing to expand its armed struggle into a new theater: the Western Front.
A Mission Born in the Shadows
It began with a leadership change. On April 15, 1980, the ABO appointed a new chairman in Shinnigga. One year later, the leadership that would command the Western Front—mirroring that Shinnigga structure—was installed. The goal was clear: launch an armed resistance in the West.
The ABO’s new commanders meticulously planned their next move. They sent 12 batches of fighters to Eritrea for military training. After completing their preparations, 17 fighters were dispatched to the Western Zone to begin operations.
These were not faceless soldiers. They were fathers, brothers, and sons. Their names would eventually be carved into Oromia’s collective memory:
· Daawud Ibsaa — Battalion Commander
· Abbaa Caalaa Lataa — Deputy Battalion Commander
· Jaal Tottoobaa Waaqwayyaa — Squad Leader
· Jaal Birruu Taasisaa (Gabbisaa)
· Jaal Caalaa Ulmaanaa (Kormee Dinqaa)
· Jaal Taarreqanyi Ayyaanaa (Waaqgaarii)
· Jaal Abdallaa Raggaasaa
· Jaal Suleemaan Raggaasaa
· Jaal Waaqoo Guyyoo (Abbaa Gadaa)
· Jaal Abdulra’uuf
· Jaal Miijanaa Yandoo
· Jaal Adam Amaan
· Jaal Saanii Abdullaahi (Kerkedee)
· Jaal Yohaannis Dinqaa (Wayyeessaa)
· Jaal Kabbadaa Fufaa (Gambel)
· Jaal Taaddalaa Makuriyaa (Bayyanaa)
· Jaal Abduqqee (Habbuuqaa)
These 17 commanders were sent to ignite the Western Front resistance. But the Derg regime had no intention of allowing the ABO to take root. A fierce counterinsurgency campaign was already underway, designed to crush the liberation movement at its foundation.
The Work Before the War
Before bullets could fly, the commanders focused on what would make the struggle sustainable: mobilizing communities, building infrastructure, and educating the people. They recruited new members. They strengthened the resistance. They worked in the shadows, knowing that discovery meant death.
It was during this organizing phase that the leadership made a strategic decision. Commander Daawud Ibsaa and his deputy, Abbaa Caalaa Lataa, along with a man named Taaddasaa Shorroo and one other, divided their forces into two groups. One group, loyal to Daawud Ibsaa, headed toward Gidaami. The other, following Abbaa Caalaa Lataa, moved toward Begi.
On December 21, 1981, the two groups agreed to return to their base and reunite. They planned to share intelligence and coordinate their next moves. But the reunion would never happen as intended.
The Poisoned Reunion
The two groups did not return in triumph.
The faction led by Daawud Ibsaa headed toward Gidaami, in the village of Giraayii Sonkaa. On December 23, 1981, they received an order from Nugusee Faantaa, then the security chief of Wallagga Zone, in coordination with Zakariyaas Shorroo, Dirribaa Moggaa, and Hiikaa Masaadii—the administrator of Gidaami district at the time.
The orders were chilling: the fighters were to be poisoned.
But not through open combat. The betrayal came from within. Zakariyaas Shorroo, whose own brother Taaddasaa Shorroo was among the fighters, became the instrument of the regime. He provided the poison that would kill his own kin.
Eight ABO commanders ingested the poison prepared by the Derg regime. Among them were:
· Jaal Daawud Ibsaa
· Jaal Tottoobaa Waaqwayyaa
· Jaal Hinsarmuu
· Jaal Adam Amaan
· Jaal Yohaannis Dinqaa
· Jaal Suleemaan Raggaasaa
· Jaal Shaanqoo
· Jaal Taaddasaa Shorroo
They died in the same place, their bodies falling together. A brother had handed poison to his brother. The regime’s strategy of divide and rule had found its most devastating expression.
A Slow Death in Captivity
Jaal Daawud Ibsaa did not die immediately. Severely weakened by the poison, he was captured alive by Derg forces and taken to Dambi Dollo Hospital. From there, he was transferred to Maikelawi Prison and other detention centers, where he endured a slow, agonizing decline. He eventually suffered in custody—a martyr twice over, first by poison and then by neglect.
The ABO had lost eight of its most promising commanders in a single stroke. The Western Front resistance, still in its infancy, suffered a blow from which it would take years to recover.
Remembering the Fallen
For one year, the surviving ABO leadership grappled with the loss. The struggle continued, but the wound was deep. The Derg regime, along with collaborators like Ziyaad Barree, intensified its campaign. Blood and bone were spilled across Oromia. Heroes were buried in unmarked graves.
Then, in 1984, the remaining ABO leaders convened. They made a decision. Beginning in 1985, April 15—the date of the Shinnigga leadership appointment in 1980—would be permanently commemorated as Oromo Martyrs’ Day. Article 56, subsection 2 of the ABO constitution formally recognized it as one of the organization’s official holidays.
Since 1985, April 15 has been observed in the forests of Oromia and in the diaspora. Inside Oromia, ABO members commemorate the day in secret, risking arrest or death. Outside, in refugee camps and community centers across Europe, North America, and Australia, Oromos gather openly to honor those who fell.
Today: A People’s Memorial
Today, the Oromo people remember April 15 as Guyyaa Gootota Oromoo—Oromo Martyrs’ Day. It is a day to honor not only the 17 commanders of the Western Front but all those who have fallen in the struggle for Oromo liberation.
The names of the Western Front martyrs are recited in poems and songs. Their faces appear on banners at diaspora protests. Their story is taught to Oromo children growing up far from the forests where their fathers died.
“April 15 is the day we remember all the martyrs of the Oromo liberation struggle,” one elder in the Oromo community explains. “The commanders who were poisoned. The fighters who fell in battle. The civilians killed in their villages. We remember them all on this day.”
The Western Front mission of 1980-81 ultimately failed to achieve its immediate military objectives. The resistance there was crushed. The commanders were killed or captured. But the memory of their sacrifice outlived the regime that murdered them.
Mengistu Haile Mariam fled to Zimbabwe in 1991. The Derg is gone. But the names of Daawud Ibsaa, Taaddasaa Shorroo, and their comrades remain. Every April 15, the Oromo people prove that while regimes can poison bodies, they cannot poison history.
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This feature article is dedicated to the 17 commanders of the Western Front and to all Oromo martyrs who gave their lives for the liberation of their people. April 15 — Guyyaa Gootota Oromoo.
Irreecha Arfaasaa (the spring thanksgiving festival) being celebrated on April 26, 2026, at Tulluu Dandenong (likely a reference to the Dandenong Ranges in Victoria, Australia). This appears to be a diaspora celebration organized by the Oromo community in Melbourne, and Oromo Irrecha Association.
Irreechaa Arfaasaa is a day of thanksgiving at the end of dry seasons and beginning of rainy season every year at the top of hills or mountains to acquire and celebrate good spirit. For this event, the Oromos usually go to the mountain during the time of their worshiping rituals, or during Irreessaa celebration.
Traditionally, Oromos hold two seasonal Irreecha festivals at national level:
1) one is held at the end of September (or beginning of October) at the start of the sunny season and the end of the rainy season (i.e. during the harvest season, thus it’s called ‘Thanksgiving’ festival). This seasonal Irreecha is most known to Oromos and friends of the Oromo throughout the world. This Irreecha is called Irreecha Birraa.
2) The other Irreecha festival is held on the onset of the rainy season (i.e. during the sowing season). The sowing season’s Irreecha celebration is held to pray to Waaqaa to bring about Good Spirit with rain and efforts; after all, farmers spread their seeds on the ground with the only assurance that Waaqaa is on their side to turn the seeds into bountiful crops at the end of the rainy season. This Irreecha is called Irreecha Arfaasaa.
The month of May is the height of the sowing season in Oromia, and it’s during this month that Irreecha Arfaasaa (‘Oromo Festival of Good Spirit’) is held in Oromia among the Oromo people. The following are video clips from this year’s Irreecha Arfaasaa celebrations in Oromia.
The Oromo people celebrate Irreechaa Arfaasaa not only to thank Waaqaa (God) but also to welcome the new rainy winter season associated with nature and creature. On Irreechaa festivals, friends, family, and relatives gather together and celebrate with joy and happiness. Irreechaa festivals bring people closer to each other and make social bonds.
Moreover, the Oromo people celebrate this auspicious winter event to mark the end of dry season, known as Bonaa, and to welcome the dry seasons. It was established by Oromo forefathers, in the time of Gadaa Melbaa in Mormor, Oromia. The auspicious day on which this last Mormor Day of Gadaa Belbaa — the Dark Time of starvation and hunger- was established on the 1st Sunday of last week of May or the 1st Sunday of the 1st week of June according to the Gadaa lunar calendar has been designated as the second winter Thanksgiving Day by modern-day Oromo people.
It was a cold, grey morning in central London when the first voices began to rise. By noon, the streets around the Ethiopian Embassy had become a river of red, green, and red – the colours of the Oromo flag – flowing with a quiet but unshakable resolve. Men, women, and children, many wrapped in traditional scarves against the March chill, stood shoulder to shoulder. Some carried photographs of faces they would never see again. Others held placards that declared, in bold letters, “Stop the Killings in Oromia” and “Justice for the Voiceless.”
The date was 30th March 2026. For the thousands who gathered, it was not just another protest. It was a hiriiraa– a gathering – that they called “Seena Qabeessa Sagalee Dhabeessa Taasifame”: a historic assembly that gives voice to those who have been silenced.
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A Gathering Born of Grief
Every protest has a backstory, but the one that unfolded on the streets of London this past Monday was carved from grief too heavy for silence. The demonstrators, members of the Oromo diaspora from across the United Kingdom, had come to demand that the world finally pay attention to what they describe as a relentless wave of atrocities against the Oromo people in Ethiopia’s Oromia region.
“We are not here because we want to be,” said Firaol T., a 34-year-old software engineer who travelled from Manchester with his two young daughters. “We are here because our families back home are living in fear. My cousin was killed last month – shot at a checkpoint simply because he was Oromo. I cannot sit in comfort here while my people are being buried in mass graves.”
Firaol’s words were echoed by dozens of speakers who addressed the crowd through a portable sound system set up on the pavement. The speeches were delivered in Afaan Oromo, Amharic, and English – a multilingual testimony to a diaspora that spans generations and geographies but remains bound by a shared anguish.
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‘They Want to Erase Us’
Protesters carried banners listing the names of towns and villages in Oromia that have become shorthand for suffering: Wollega, Guji, Shashamane, Walliso. Many held portraits of Hachalu Hundessa, the iconic Oromo singer and activist whose assassination in 2020 ignited the largest protests Ethiopia had seen in decades. Hachalu’s face was everywhere – on placards, on T‑shirts, even painted on a large cloth banner that hung from the embassy gates. For many in the crowd, his death was the beginning of a darker chapter that has yet to close.
“Hachalu sang for our freedom,” said Marta D., a university lecturer from London. “They killed him because they feared the power of our voice. But here we are, five years later, still speaking, still demanding justice. They cannot kill us all.”
The demonstrators accused the Ethiopian federal government, under Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed, of orchestrating a systematic campaign of extrajudicial killings, mass displacement, and ethnic cleansing against the Oromo. They pointed to reports from international human rights organisations documenting widespread violence in the Oromia region, including the use of drones and heavy artillery against civilian areas.
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The Unseen Crisis
While the world’s attention has often been drawn to Ethiopia’s internal conflicts in Tigray and Amhara, the Oromo – the country’s largest ethnic group – say their suffering has been rendered invisible. “There is a media blackout on Oromia,” said Bontu B., one of the protest organisers. “When Oromos are killed, it does not make the headlines. That is why we are here – to force the world to see.”
The protesters carried a petition addressed to the UK Foreign Office, demanding an immediate halt to all British military and financial support to the Ethiopian government. They also called for the International Criminal Court to investigate what they term “crimes against humanity” perpetrated by Ethiopian security forces and allied militias.
“The UK government continues to fund a regime that is bombing our villages,” Bontu added. “Every pound that goes to Addis Ababa is a pound that buys bullets aimed at Oromo children. That must stop. Today.”
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A Diaspora Unmuted
What made the 30th March gathering particularly striking was the range of participants. Young British-born Oromos, many of whom have never set foot in Ethiopia, stood alongside elders who fled political persecution in the 1980s and 1990s. There were mothers pushing prams, university students in graduation gowns as a symbol of the future they fear is being stolen, and even a small contingent of non-Oromo Ethiopians who had come in solidarity.
“I am Amhara, and I am here because the suffering in our country is not ethnic – it is political,” said Elias M., a London-based architect holding a sign that read “Ethiopia Needs Peace, Not War.” “The government has turned our nation into a graveyard. We must all say: enough.”
The atmosphere was sombre but disciplined. Police officers stood at a distance, observing the largely peaceful crowd. Only once did tensions rise, when a small group of counter-protesters tried to approach the embassy gates, but they were quickly separated by officers and absorbed back into the flow of London traffic.
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‘A Day That Will Be Remembered’
As afternoon turned to early evening, the crowd began a slow, silent march towards Trafalgar Square. There was no music, no drumming – only the soft thud of footsteps and the occasional whispered prayer. At the square, they formed a circle, and for one full minute, they stood in complete silence. Then, as if on cue, a single voice rose: “Oromoo, dagaagaa!” – “Oromo, rise up!” The chant was taken up by hundreds, then thousands, until the square echoed with a roar that seemed to shake the stone lions at its base.
Organisers later described the gathering as the largest Oromo diaspora protest in London in recent years. “This is a turning point,” said Lammi G., a community elder who has lived in the UK since 1992. “For too long, our people have been told to be quiet, to wait, to hope that things will improve. But 30th March 2026 will be remembered as the day we said: we will wait no longer.”
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The Weight of Absence
Amid the chants and the flags, there were also moments of intimate grief. Near the embassy gates, a small shrine had been set up: a row of framed photographs, each one showing a young Oromo man or woman. Beside each photo was a lit candle and a handwritten name. Gammachiis. Faayyisaa. Roobee. Caalaa. The names spanned the years 2020 to 2026 – a timeline of unending loss.
A young woman knelt in front of one photo, her forehead touching the pavement. When she stood up, her face was wet with tears. “My brother,” she said softly, gesturing to the picture. “He was a student. They killed him in 2023. I promised him I would never stop speaking his name.”
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A Long Road Ahead
As dusk settled over London and the protesters began to disperse, there was a sense that this was not an ending but a beginning. Organisers announced plans for a follow-up rally outside the Houses of Parliament, and for a sustained campaign targeting Ethiopian diplomatic missions across Europe.
“We will not be satisfied with one day of speeches and signs,” said Bontu. “We are building a movement. The voices of the dead demand it.”
Before leaving Trafalgar Square, many of the protesters turned one last time to face the National Gallery – a monument to British history. They raised the Oromo flag high, and someone began to sing an old Oromo freedom song. The melody was haunting, carried on the cold London air, a reminder that even far from the hills of Oromia, the struggle for justice continues.
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In the days that followed, the images from 30th March would circulate across social media, shared under the hashtag #OromiaRising. For the thousands who had gathered, however, the memory was already etched not in pixels, but in the cold ache of their hands from holding signs, the rasp of their throats from chanting, and the quiet, stubborn hope that somewhere, someone was finally listening.
Because on that day, in the heart of London, the voiceless were given a voice – and they made sure it was heard.
(London, UK, ONA) – In a stirring display of collective grief and political defiance, hundreds of members of the Oromo diaspora gathered in central London today to raise their voices against the government of Ethiopian Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed. The protesters, many draped in the traditional red, green, and red colors of the Oromo flag, marched to demand an immediate end to what they describe as systematic human rights violations, including extrajudicial killings and forced displacement in the Oromia region.
“We Are Here to Speak for the Voiceless”
The demonstration, which saw the closure of a major thoroughfare outside the Ethiopian Embassy, was marked by a palpable sense of urgency. Chanting slogans and holding placards reading “Stop the Genocide” and “Abiy Ahmed is a killer,” the protesters accused the Ethiopian National Defense Forces and allied regional militias of waging an offensive against Oromo civilians.
Recent reports from international observers have painted a grim picture of the security situation in Ethiopia. In its World Report 2026, Human Rights Watch (HRW) documented continued hostilities between federal forces and the Oromo Liberation Army (OLA) in parts of Oromia, resulting in significant civilian casualties and widespread displacement. Similarly, Genocide Watch’s 2025 country report highlights systematic patterns of violence against ethnic groups, noting that thousands of civilians have been killed in the Oromo and Amhara regions over the past year.
“We are here to speak for the voiceless in Oromia,” said one organizer, who identified himself as Bulti. “The international community cannot stay silent while our people are killed, our villages are burned, and our children are forced to flee their homes.”
Demands for Sanctions and ICC Prosecution
The London protest, which follows similar rallies in other major European capitals, carried a list of specific demands. Organizers submitted a formal petition to the UK Foreign Office, urging the British government to suspend financial and diplomatic support for the Ethiopian administration.
Among the key demands issued by the protest leaders were:
· Immediate Halt of Offensives: A call for the Ethiopian government to cease military operations in Oromia and withdraw security forces from civilian areas.
· Accountability: A demand for Ethiopian officials implicated in human rights abuses to be brought before international courts, including the International Criminal Court (ICC).
· Release of Political Prisoners: An urgent request for the unconditional release of opposition figures and activists held without trial.
· Justice for Slain Activists: The demonstrators specifically demanded justice for murdered artists and activists, including the iconic singer Hachalu Hundessa, whose death in 2020 sparked massive nationwide protests.
“We want the UK government to stop arming this regime,” protester Lemlem Tadese told reporters. “They have blood on their hands.”
A Deepening Crisis
The unrest in Ethiopia, Africa’s second-most populous nation, has been escalating for years. While the Tigray war officially ended in 2022 with the signing of the Cessation of Hostilities Agreement (CoHA), violence in the Amhara and Oromia regions has continued unabated.
Recent conflict dynamics have further complicated the situation. Reports from late March 2026 indicate that a rebel alliance, including Oromo forces, was closing in on the capital, Addis Ababa, leading to a state of emergency declaration. Concurrently, fierce fighting has been reported in western Oromia, where Oromo and Amhara militants have clashed, leaving civilians caught in the crossfire.
The humanitarian toll is staggering. According to the UN Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs (UNOCHA), over 288,000 people have been displaced since July 2025 following renewed inter-communal violence along the Oromia-Somali regional border, with many lacking access to clean water, shelter, or medical care.
A History of Marginalization
For many in the diaspora, the protests in London are not just a reaction to recent events but a culmination of decades of perceived marginalization. The Oromo, Ethiopia’s largest ethnic group, have long complained of political and economic disenfranchisement, including the historical banning of their language and the expropriation of their ancestral lands.
Protesters pointed to the government’s handling of the Addis Ababa Master Plan as a flashpoint, arguing that the expansion of the capital constitutes land grabs that displace Oromo farmers. “This is a struggle for survival,” said protester Desta Mulugeta. “We are fighting for our right to exist.”
A Divided Response
The Ethiopian government has consistently denied allegations of committing atrocities or targeting civilians along ethnic lines. Officials often characterize the OLA and other opposition groups as terrorist organizations bent on destabilizing the nation.
The London protest, however, highlighted the deep divide between the diaspora and the current administration. While the demonstration was largely peaceful, it reflects a growing frustration among the Oromo diaspora, who feel that diplomatic pressure alone is insufficient to halt the violence.
The Road Ahead
As the sun set over London, the protesters dispersed, but they vowed to return. Organizers announced plans for a nationwide awareness campaign and a potential mass rally in front of Parliament.
“We will not be silenced,” Bulti declared. “Until justice is served in Oromia, we will be here, every week, until the world listens.”
A Celebration of Heritage: Melbourne’s Oromo Community Marks Third Annual Oromtittii Day with Joy and Warmth
Melbourne, Australia – The Oromo community in Melbourne has once again demonstrated its rich cultural pride, celebrating Oromtittii Day (Oromo Mothers’ Day) for the third time in a vibrant ceremony held today. The event, which took place in a setting filled with warmth and beauty, was distinguished by a strong sense of family, with elders and children gathering together to honor the occasion.
This year’s celebration was dedicated to elevating the respect and recognition deserving of mothers. Attendees described the event as a heartwarming success, noting that the third annual commemoration brought immense joy to all who participated.
Organizers have already set their sights on the future, with plans to expand the event further. “We are already planning to make next year’s celebration even warmer and more inclusive than this one,” a member of the organizing committee shared.
“Our goal is to deepen community involvement and elevate this tradition.”
Community leaders extended their gratitude to all who participated, stating, “We thank our community members who came together to be part of this.”
The inaugural Oromtittii Day in Melbourne was first celebrated in 2024, and today’s event marks a continued commitment to honoring Oromo heritage and the pivotal role of mothers within the community.
As the sacred season approaches, anticipation is building across Oromia and beyond. The annual Irreechaa Arfaasaa—the Thanksgiving festival of the Oromo people—is set to be celebrated with unparalleled splendor at the historic site of Tulluu Hora Ayeetuu.
According to an announcement from the Galmi Duudhaa Ganamaa Walisoo Liiban, preparations for the occasion have entered their final phase. The festival, which marks the transition from the rainy season to the bright days of peace and harvest, is scheduled to take place in a manner befitting its profound cultural and spiritual significance.
A Sacred Gathering
Irreechaa is more than a festival; it is the spiritual heartbeat of the Oromo nation. Celebrated twice a year, Irreechaa Arfaasaa (the spring thanksgiving) is a moment when millions gather at sacred lakes and hills to offer gratitude to Waaqaa (God) for life, health, and the blessings of renewal.
This year, all eyes are on Tulluu Hora Ayeetuu, a site revered for its deep historical and spiritual roots. The location holds special significance as a center of Oromo cultural identity, where generations have gathered to raise their hands in prayer and solidarity.
Final Preparations Underway
In a statement released to the public, organizers from Galmi Duudhaa Ganamaa Walisoo Liiban confirmed that all necessary arrangements are nearing completion. The celebration is being planned as a “warm and beautiful ceremony” —a phrase that reflects the commitment to ensuring both dignity and joy for the multitudes expected to attend.
Logistical preparations include:
Site organization and safety measures at Tulluu Hora Ayeetuu
Coordination of traditional protocols led by cultural elders
Arrangements for attendees traveling from across Oromia and the diaspora
A Call to the Oromo People
The message from the organizing body carries a tone of both invitation and affirmation. Speaking on behalf of the community, the leadership emphasized that the celebration is not merely an event but a reaffirmation of identity. As stated in their communication:
“Ayyaanni Abdii fi Hawwiin eegamu, kan Lafaa fi Nafa Oromoof gabbinaa.” (A festival where hope and aspiration are upheld—a thanksgiving for the land and soul of Oromoo.)
Significance of the Date
Irreechaa Arfaasaa will be observed according to the traditional Oromo calendar. While the exact date aligns with Bitootessa 27 / 7 / 2018 E.C. (which corresponds to approximately late March / early April in the Gregorian calendar), the spiritual resonance transcends the calendar itself. It is a time of unity, reflection, and collective renewal.
Looking Ahead
As the final preparations are completed, the message from Galmi Duudhaa Ganamaa Walisoo Liiban serves as both a confirmation of readiness and a call to the Oromo people worldwide to embrace the season with pride and reverence.
In a time when cultural preservation carries profound political and social weight, the gathering at Tulluu Hora Ayeetuu stands as a powerful testament to the resilience of Oromo traditions. The anticipation of warmth, beauty, and spiritual elevation suggests that this year’s Irreechaa will be remembered as a moment of unity and hope.
For further updates on logistics and participation, the public is advised to follow official communications from the organizing committee.
Through this Iyyaafannoo (Remembrance) page, Bariisaa Gazette presents to its readers the story of individuals who, in their time, performed great and unforgettable services for their country and people.
With this publication, we share a brief interview with a scholar who laid a solid foundation for the development of the Oromo language—particularly its standardization—founded the Oromo Language Standardization Committee, and served in leadership for many years, continuing his work even into retirement. This is his story as told in his own words.
Place of Birth
Abarraa Nafaa was born in 1938 in Qarree Ittisaa, Gindabarat district, West Shewa Zone, Oromia Region. His upbringing was typical of rural children of that era.
When he reached school age, he attended grades 1–6 at Kaachisi Elementary School, grades 7–8 at Ginciit, and grades 9–10 at Amboo. He began his education in 1954.
After completing his secondary education at Ma’araga Hiywot Secondary School, he enrolled at TTI (Technical Teacher Institute) in Harar, where he trained for two years and received his teaching certification in 1964.
He began his teaching career in Sidama region at Kaasaa Barii Elementary School. He was later transferred to Yirgaalam town, where he taught for three years at Adaraash Elementary School. In total, he served as a teacher for seven years.
In 1971, he pursued higher education at Finfinne University in the field of linguistics, graduating with a Bachelor of Arts (BA) in 1974.
Work in Oromo Language Research
In 1975, under the assignment of the time, he was posted to the Academy of Ethiopian Languages at the Ministry of Culture and Information, where he was directly assigned to Oromo language research.
In 1978, seeking to further his education, he received permission to study while working and completed his Master of Arts (MA) in linguistics in 1980.
After the Derg regime took power, scholars working within the Ministry of Culture and Sports were reassigned to various regions based on their language skills and work performance. Abarraa was similarly transferred to the Oromia Bureau of Culture and Sports, where he began conducting research on the Oromo language.
The language research work involved extensive collection of data from across Oromia. They organized the linguistic studies on a house-to-house basis, entered the data into computers, and began publishing. He served as a senior editor and organizer for the published books. Among the works to which he contributed his expertise are:
Proverbs (Mammaaksa) – Volumes 1–6, published by the Oromia Bureau of Culture and Tourism, for which he served as senior researcher and editor.
Traditional Songs (Walaloo Sirba Warroommii, Faaruu, Geerarsa Tuulamaa) – Volume 1, published by the Oromia Bureau of Culture and Tourism, for which he served as senior researcher and editor.
Dur durii – Volumes 1–5, and Hibboo – Volume 1, published by the Oromia Bureau of Culture and Tourism, for which he served as senior researcher and editor.
Yeroo (Oromo–Oromo Dictionary) – Initially prepared in manuscript form and published, for which he served as senior researcher and editor.
Amharic–Oromo–English Dictionary – Published by the Oromia Bureau of Culture and Tourism, for which he served as senior researcher and editor.
Hirkoo (English–Oromo–Amharic Dictionary) – Published by Asteer Naggaa, for which he served as editor.
Oromo Dictionary – Prepared and published by the Language Academy, for which he served as senior researcher and editor.
Oromo Grammar (Caasluga Afaan Oromoo) – Volumes 1 and 2, published by the Oromia Bureau of Culture and Tourism, for which he served as senior researcher and editor.
Wiirtuu – Volumes 1–7, published by the Oromia Bureau of Culture and Tourism, for which he served as senior researcher and editor.
Overall, he worked as a senior editor and organizer, ensuring that Oromo language research was carried out with great attention and dedication until his retirement. He retired from the Oromia Bureau of Culture and Tourism, where he had served in the Oromo language research department.
On the Standardization of Oromo
What does he say about the standardization of the Oromo language?
Abarraa explains:
“There was an institution called the Academy of Ethiopian Languages within the Ministry of Culture and Tourism. Many Oromo youth worked there. At that time, we were also conducting research, so we had knowledge about standardization.
In 1983, when we were told to go serve in our respective regions, I was transferred to Oromia. I was assigned to the language department. From there, believing that the language had now gained an opportunity and must be standardized, we began our work.
We decided that language research should start from the ground up, so I established the Oromo Language Standardization Committee. I was the one who founded that committee.
Members came from various bureaus. There was a representative from Bariisaa Gazette as well. There were also representatives from the Bureaus of Information, Education, and the Office of the Attorney General in Oromia.
Journalists like Huseen Badhaasoo and Bulloo Siibaa were among the committee members. At that time, there was great enthusiasm and dedication.
The Oromo Language Standardization Committee was established in 1983, and its work continued.
We traveled to bureaus and zones to collect data, prepared a project, and received a budget from the Oromia Regional Government to work with. I, in turn, organized the collected data. In this manner, we collected and published around 36,000 proverbs alone. The work was done well.”
On Standardization
Regarding standardization itself, he says:
“We recognized that there were challenges with standardization while I was working at the Ministry of Culture and Information, which motivated us to establish the standardization committee. Standardization means using common terms consistently.
For example, it means using the names of months and days in a uniform way. Even today, some people are careless and do not use them correctly. The names of the days from Wiixata to Jimaata were set by the standardization committee.
However, some people still refer to ‘great Sabbath’ and ‘small Sabbath.’ This is incorrect. The terms ‘great Sabbath’ and ‘small Sabbath’ come from religious influence. The standardization committee standardized them as Sanbata and Dilbata.
The Oromia Regional Council passed a decision on this matter. It changed the calendar to the Ethiopian numbering system. The names of the days and months standardized by the committee were officially ratified by the Oromia Regional Council through a directive.
At that time, there were people who said ‘let it be as it is,’ but we worked through consensus to achieve standardization.
Calling it ‘great Sabbath’ and ‘small Sabbath’ is religious, not originally Oromo. The Oromo tradition is Sanbata and Dilbata. The term Sanbata itself comes from Jewish tradition. Dilbata is Oromo.
We say Sanbata, Dilbata, Wiixata, Kibxata. Days have many names; for Kibxata, there were many options—we selected one and adopted it.
Political parties and the government have now agreed on using standardized terms.
I worked in the Standardization Committee for many years. I worked there from 1983 until I retired. The fact that the Wiirtuu series has been published up to 13 volumes is very encouraging. I have a great thirst for this language.
My work on the language and the results achieved feel to me like a person who was thirsty for water finally quenching their thirst.
What we worked on was standardizing pronunciation, writing, and vocabulary. Through this, we aimed for Oromo people everywhere to use a uniform standard.
For example, the word Wiixata should be recognized universally. Schools, courts, and offices should use it uniformly.
Those who seek to pull this language backward still exist today, so it is necessary to guard it carefully.
Authorities must use standardized terms. Writers and media must do the same.
If this is not done, those who write books must ensure that their works are not undermined. Their books must be written in full compliance with the rules of the Oromo language, verified by the relevant body.
For this reason, I have long called for the establishment of an Oromo Language Academy. Language develops culture, and culture develops language.
This can only be achieved by directly conducting research. Wiirtuu is a reference for Oromo language standardization. Other similar publications should also be printed.
Publications like the weekly Bariisaa Gazette and Kallachaa Oromiyaa should multiply. Without working in this way, the language will neither grow nor be standardized.
Children must learn it from the earliest levels. This effort, which had weakened, must regain its strength.
The language needs support and attention. Like a shepherd watches over livestock, the language must be tended. Now that it has gained momentum, scholars must work with focus.
Since there are those who, by writing the Oromo language incorrectly, seek to corrupt it, make it despised, and cause it to fail, strict control and vigilant care are essential.”
To enrich this article further and to provide this scholar’s story, we extend our deep gratitude to Aadde Dirribee Qana’aa (from the Oromo Research and Study Institute) for her assistance.
Yeroo sana namoonni kan koo haata’u jechaa turan jiraatanillee walamasiisuudhaan akka waalteffamu gochaa turre.
Sanbata guddaa Sanbata xiqqaa jechuun kan amantiiti malee kan Oromodurii miti. Kan Oromoo Sanbataafi Dilbata. Jechi Sanbata jedhamu uumamasaatiin kan Yuhudotaati. Dilbanni kan Oromooti.
Finfinne, March 22, 2026 – The Oromia Development Association (ODA) Bultii Addaa Secondary School is celebrating a remarkable achievement as fifteen of its former students have successfully graduated with Medical Doctor (MD) degrees from Finfinne University.
The fifteen graduates—Dr. Araaree Irreessoo, Dr. Aliyyii Huseen, Dr. Beteliyeem Girmaa, Dr. Ermiyaas Tagan, Dr. Hiroowaaq Kabbadaa, Dr. Ibsaa Mohammed, Dr. Jibril Xaahir, Dr. Musee Birhaanuu, Dr. Obsinaan Tarreessaa, Dr. Phaawulos Gammadaa, Dr. Radi’eet Birhaanuu, Dr. Saaloomee Taammanaa, Dr. Tinsaayee Waggaarii, Dr. Yoonaas Hiikaa, and Dr. Zalaalam Simee—have all recorded outstanding scores in the national 2010 entrance examination, which paved the way for their medical studies.
These accomplished individuals have now completed their rigorous medical training with distinction, earning the right to be called medical doctors. Their journey from the classrooms of ODA Bultii Addaa to the halls of Finfinne University Medical School represents years of dedication, hard work, and perseverance.
The Oromia Development Association, in a statement celebrating the achievement, expressed immense pride in the graduates. The organization highlighted that the students’ success is a shining example of the fruits of commitment and integrity. The ODA emphasized that these new doctors carry with them the trust of the Oromo people and urged them to serve their nation and community with honor, faithfulness, and the expertise they have acquired.
“The success of our students is a testament to the fact that ODA nurtures a generation that upholds dignity and makes significant contributions to our country and people,” the statement read.
The ODA extended its heartfelt congratulations to all the graduates, acknowledging the collective effort behind their success. The organization also recognized the vital roles played by the ODA Board members, school leadership, teachers of Bultii Addaa Secondary School, families, and all stakeholders who supported the students along their academic journey.
“As you complete your education with excellent results, your victory is great,” the ODA stated, celebrating the milestone.
The achievement of these fifteen medical doctors marks a proud moment for the institution and serves as an inspiration for current and future students of ODA Bultii Addaa Secondary School. The organization reaffirmed its commitment to fostering excellence and contributing to the development of skilled professionals dedicated to serving the community.
“Congratulations once again. We are truly proud of you!” the ODA concluded, celebrating the success of its alumni and the bright future they represent for the Oromo people and beyond.
A Life of Struggle and Service: Yonathan Dhibisaa’s Journey Captured in New Book
Addis Ababa – A new literary work is set to offer an unprecedented glimpse into the life of one of Oromia’s most prominent political figures. A book chronicling the life and legacy of Yonathan Dhibisaa Seedaa—a founding member and former central committee leader of the Oromo Peoples’ Democratic Organization (OPDO)—will be launched on April 4, 2026, at Ghion Hotel starting at 7:00 PM.
The event marks not just the release of a book, but a celebration of a life defined by decades of political activism, military leadership, and public service. Organizers have extended a warm invitation to the public, calling on all who revere history and political struggle to attend.
A Storied Career in Politics and Public Service
Yonathan Dhibisaa is no stranger to the corridors of power or the rigors of the battlefield. As a founding member of the OPDO, a party that later merged to form the Prosperity Party, he played a pivotal role in the region’s political evolution. His leadership extended beyond party politics into the highest echelons of regional government, where he served in key positions—from holding a high-level security post to eventually becoming the Minister of Justice for the Oromia regional state.
A Military Leader in the Struggle for Freedom
Before his political career, Dhibisaa’s life was forged in the crucible of armed struggle. His commitment to the cause of the Oromo people saw him traverse a vast arc of conflict, journeying from Eritrea to Egypt as a leader within the Oromo Liberation Army (Waraana Bilisummaa Oromoo—WBO). For over 17 years, he served on the front lines, dedicating his youth to the pursuit of self-determination.
Perhaps one of the most defining chapters of his legacy unfolded in the Metekel Zone of the Benishangul-Gumuz region, specifically in Gida and Kiramu districts of eastern Wollega. Historians and comrades recall his role in leading armed resistance to protect Oromo communities that were facing grave threats. His willingness to stand on the front lines during those dark days has cemented his reputation as a leader who did not simply command from a distance but faced danger alongside his people. That chapter of his life, marked by personal sacrifice and direct confrontation with violence, is one that organizers say “will never be forgotten.”
Returning to Civilian Life
After decades of service—first as a freedom fighter and later as a high-ranking government official—Dhibisaa ultimately stepped away from formal political power. Following his tenure in the cabinet, he chose to lay down the mantle of authority, returning to a quieter life focused on personal reflection and family. It is from this space of experience and retrospection that the new book emerges.
What the Book Offers
According to those close to the author, the book is more than a memoir. It is described as a deep reflection that shares insights into his political journey, personal experiences, and the vision he holds for the future. It promises to provide readers with an intimate look at the decisions, struggles, and moments of clarity that shaped his path.
Organizers believe the book holds immense value—not just for those who followed his career, but for a new generation of leaders interested in governance, resilience, and social transformation.
An Invitation to All
In a statement released ahead of the launch, the organizers emphasized the importance of remembering history.
“If people forget history, history will not forget the people,” they said, underscoring the significance of documenting and honoring the experiences of those who have shaped the nation’s political landscape.
The event is open to the public, and attendees are encouraged to share the invitation widely. The launch will take place at Ghion Hotel, a historic venue in the capital, on the evening of April 4, 2026.
For those who value stories of perseverance, leadership, and the long arc of the struggle for justice, this book promises to be an essential addition to their library.
Event Details:
Occasion: Book Launch – Celebrating the Life of Yonathan Dhibisaa Seedaa
How Victoria is leading the fight against racial discrimination in the workplace
On March 21, the world observes the International Day for the Elimination of Racial Discrimination. It is a day of remembrance, a call to action, and a global reminder that the fight for equality is far from over. This date was chosen to honor the 1960 Sharpeville massacre in South Africa, a tragic event that underscored the deadly consequences of unchecked racism.
In Victoria, this day serves as a powerful catalyst to examine not only our society but the spaces where we spend most of our time: our workplaces. While the ideal of a fair go is central to the Australian ethos, the reality is that racial discrimination remains a persistent issue. However, in Victoria, the law is clear: every worker has the right to be treated fairly, regardless of their race, skin color, descent, or national or ethnic origin.
The Legal Framework: More Than Just Policy
Under the Equal Opportunity Act 2010 (Vic), it is against the law to discriminate against someone based on their race. This protection covers all aspects of employment, from recruitment and promotion to termination and the day-to-day conditions of the job.
But the law does more than just prohibit negative behavior. It places a positive duty on employers. This means that Victorian employers have a legal responsibility to be proactive. They cannot simply wait for a complaint to occur; they must take reasonable and proportionate steps to eliminate racial discrimination, sexual harassment, and victimization as far as possible. Creating a safe, inclusive environment isn’t just good ethics—it’s the law.
Identifying Racism in the Workplace
Racism isn’t always overt. While blatant acts like using racial slurs or denying a promotion based on ethnicity are clear-cut violations, racial discrimination often manifests in more subtle, systemic ways. Recognizing these is the first step toward action.
Racial Vilification: This involves public acts that incite hatred, serious contempt, or ridicule against a person or group of people because of their race. This can happen in meetings, via work emails, or on internal communication platforms.
Discriminatory Jokes or “Banter”: Often dismissed as harmless humor, persistent jokes about a person’s cultural background, accent, or appearance create a hostile and degrading work environment.
Indirect Discrimination: This occurs when a workplace policy or practice appears neutral but disproportionately disadvantages people of a particular race. For example, requiring all staff to work on a specific religious holiday without flexibility may indirectly discriminate against employees of certain faiths.
Exclusion: Being left out of important meetings, social gatherings, or informal networks where information and opportunities are shared.
Microaggressions: Subtle, often unintentional, slights or insults that communicate negative messages. Examples include consistently mispronouncing a colleague’s name despite correction, asking “where are you really from?”, or making assumptions about a person’s abilities based on their background.
Know Your Rights: The Power of Action
If you experience or witness racism at work, it is crucial to know that you are protected and there are clear pathways to act.
For individuals who experience discrimination:
Keep a Record: Document what happened, including dates, times, witnesses, and any evidence like emails or messages.
Seek Support: Check your workplace policy and speak with a trusted manager, a human resources representative, or a union.
Make a Complaint: You can make a formal complaint internally. You also have the right to make a complaint to the Victorian Equal Opportunity and Human Rights Commission (VEOHRC), which handles complaints about discrimination in Victoria. The process is designed to be fair and can lead to conciliation, where both parties work to find a resolution.
For bystanders—those who witness discrimination—the role is just as vital. Silence can be interpreted as acceptance. The Victorian Equal Opportunity and Human Rights Commission has developed “Workplace Bystander Guides” that empower colleagues to intervene safely and effectively. Being an active bystander can mean:
Interrupting: Politely but firmly challenging the behavior in the moment. (“That joke isn’t funny, please don’t say that.”)
Supporting: Checking in with the person who was targeted. (“Are you okay? I saw what happened.”)
Reporting: Documenting the incident and reporting it to a manager or HR, especially if the targeted individual is hesitant to do so themselves.
Accessing Resources in Your Language
Understanding your rights is the foundation of empowerment. To ensure that every Victorian worker can access this vital information, VEOHRC has made key resources available in multiple languages.
Employers, HR professionals, and individuals can download practical fact sheets and the comprehensive workplace bystander guides. These materials provide step-by-step advice on how to identify discrimination, understand legal protections, and take effective action.
The International Day for the Elimination of Racial Discrimination is a moment to reflect, but the work of building truly equitable workplaces is a daily endeavor. It requires more than just legal compliance; it demands a cultural shift.
When employers embrace their legal responsibility to eliminate discrimination, they don’t just avoid legal action—they foster environments where innovation thrives, where employees feel safe, and where everyone has the opportunity to succeed. When workers know their rights and have the tools to act as allies, they transform their workplaces from places of mere tolerance to places of genuine belonging.
This March 21, let Victoria’s commitment to equality be more than a statement. Let it be an action. Know your rights, support your colleagues, and help build a future where diversity is not just respected, but celebrated.
For more information, or to access fact sheets and guides in your language, visit the Victorian Equal Opportunity and Human Rights Commission’s resource page.
Understanding the Vision and Sacrifice Behind the Struggle
The Oromo Liberation Front (OLF) stands as a political organization that has long moved in accordance with the will and aspirations of the Oromo people. At its core, the OLF is presented as a peace-loving organization that consistently seeks the wellbeing of its people. Its primary objectives focus on ensuring the rights of the Oromo people, strengthening national unity, and establishing lasting peace.
The Centrality of Peace
Peace is the foundation of human existence. Without peace, no community can achieve meaningful development, education, or a complete life. Recognizing this fundamental truth, the OLF has repeatedly expressed its commitment to dialogue and peaceful agreements throughout various periods of its history. This demonstrates the organization’s belief that conflicts should be resolved not through force alone, but through discussion, agreement, and mutual understanding.
When we say “the OLF is a peace-loving organization,” this reflects its commitment to prioritizing peace in both its actions and objectives. The organization understands that sustainable solutions emerge not from the barrel of a gun, but from the negotiating table where differences can be addressed through constructive dialogue.
A Symbol of Hope
The OLF’s role as the hope of the Oromo people carries deep and broad meaning. For generations, the Oromo people have traversed through various challenges and difficulties. During such times, an organization that advocates for the people appears as a light of hope. Just as light guides one through darkness, the OLF is perceived within its community as hope and illumination.
The saying “The OLF is the light of the Oromo people” carries the promise that the organization guides its people from the darkness of hardship and oppression toward the light of freedom, rights, and peace. This metaphor resonates deeply with a people who have long struggled for recognition and self-determination.
Leadership Through Sacrifice
The leaders of the OLF play an enormous role in this ongoing journey. Among the well-known examples is Dawud Ibsa, who served the organization as a long-time leader and throughout his life paid repeated sacrifices for the cause of his people. His example, along with that of other leaders, serves as a profound lesson for both current leadership and future generations about the patience, perseverance, and faithfulness required to work for the people’s cause.
“Serving the people throughout one’s lifetime and paying the ultimate sacrifice” is no simple phrase. In its deepest meaning, it represents the act of offering one’s personal life, time, energy, and future opportunities for the sake of the nation. This level of dedication transforms political leadership into something approaching sacred duty.
The Legacy Continues
The examples set by leaders like Dawud Ibsa demonstrate that the path to freedom requires not just political vision, but personal sacrifice. Their lives teach that the struggle for rights and recognition is not a sprint but a marathon, requiring sustained commitment across generations.
As the Oromo people continue their journey toward full recognition of their rights and aspirations within Ethiopia, the sacrifices of those who have gone before serve as both foundation and inspiration. The struggle continues, carried forward by those who believe that peace with justice is possible and that the hopes of the Oromo people will one day be fully realized.
This feature examines the role and perception of the Oromo Liberation Front within the context of its stated commitments to peace and the sacrifices of its leadership.
Seenaa Jiruu fi Jireenya Goota Rufaa’el Tasammaa: Dhalootaaf Fakkeenya Ta’uun Kan Jiraatu
Australia, Bitootessa 15, 2026 — Goota kabajamaan, qabsaa’aan jabaan, fi nama of-kenninsa guddaa qabu Rufaa’el Tasammaa armaan gaddaa Waaqayyooti.Firoonni isaa, hiriyoonni isaa, fi hawaasni Oromoo baay’een isaa bakka tokko walitti qabamanii goota kana kabajaan awwaalan. Sirni awwaala isaa har’a guyyaa Bitootessa 15, 2026 biyya Australia keessatti raawwateera.
Seenaa Jireenya Rufaa’el Tasammaa (1975-2026)
1. Jalqaba Jireenyaa: Dambii Doolloo
Rufaa’el bara 1975 Qellem Wallaggaa, magaalaa Dambii Doolloo keessatti dhalate. Haati Rufaa’el erga isa da’anii booda, hospitaala Dambii Doolloo keessatti utuu hin bahin boqotee. Yeroo sanaan, Dr. Dorombos jedhamu kan USA dhaa fi haati warraa isaa Missis Doromboos Rufaa’elin akka abbaa fi haadhaa isaatiin fudhatanii guddisan. Dr. Dorombos yeroo sana directorii hospitaala sanaa ture.
Thousands gather at sacred highlands to give thanks to Waaqayyo as the annual Irreecha Arfaasaa festival brings together Oromo communities in a vibrant display of culture, faith, and resilience.
TULLUU CUQQAALAA, OROMIA — The annual Irreecha Arfaasaa celebration at Tulluu Cuqqaalaa has been marked by joyous gatherings, colorful traditional attire, and heartfelt prayers as the Oromo community came together to give thanks to the Creator.
The festival, observed with beauty and reverence in locations where large numbers of people congregated, stands as a testament to the enduring strength of Oromo culture and the unbreakable spirit of a people who continue to celebrate their identity despite challenges.
A Festival of Thanksgiving
Irreecha, the Oromo thanksgiving festival, marks the end of the rainy season and the beginning of the new year. It is a time when the Oromo people gather at bodies of water—lakes, rivers, and springs—to offer gratitude to Waaqayyo (God) for the blessings of creation and to pray for peace, prosperity, and unity in the year ahead.
This year’s celebration at Tulluu Cuqqaalaa carried particular significance. Despite various challenges, the community gathered in large numbers, dressed in traditional attire, carrying green grasses and flowers as symbols of peace and abundance. The atmosphere was one of joy, reverence, and collective affirmation of Oromo identity.
The Beauty of Cultural Observance
The celebration was marked by:
Traditional Attire: Participants adorned themselves in the vibrant colors and intricate patterns of Oromo cultural clothing, transforming the gathering into a living canvas of heritage.
Songs and Poetry: The air filled with traditional songs, geerarsa (poetic chants), and prayers that have been passed down through generations.
Unity Across Differences: Oromos from various regions, backgrounds, and walks of life stood together as equals before their Creator, demonstrating the unifying power of shared culture.
Blessings and Prayers: Elders offered blessings to the gathered community, praying for peace, fertility, and prosperity in the coming year.
A Prayer for the Future
The celebration concluded with a collective prayer that echoes in the hearts of all who attended: “Galanni kan uumaati, kan bara dhufuutiin nu ha gahe!” — “Thanksgiving belongs to the Creator; may we reach it again in the coming year!”
This prayer reflects the deep Oromo understanding that life itself is a gift, that each year we are granted to celebrate is a blessing, and that hope for the future is inseparable from gratitude for the past.
Significance of Tulluu Cuqqaalaa
Tulluu Cuqqaalaa holds special significance in the Oromo spiritual landscape. The highland setting, closer to the heavens, provides a fitting backdrop for prayers that rise toward Waaqayyo. The cool breeze carries the voices of the faithful, mingling with the rustle of grass and the songs of birds—all of creation joining in the thanksgiving.
For the Oromo people, Tulluu Cuqqaalaa is more than a location—it is a living presence, a witness to generations of prayer, a container of collective memory, and a symbol of the enduring bond between the people and the land that Waaqayyo gave them.
Community Response
The successful celebration has been met with widespread joy and satisfaction across Oromo communities, both in the homeland and throughout the diaspora. Social media has been filled with images and videos from the gathering, with participants expressing their gratitude for the opportunity to celebrate freely and peacefully.
One attendee shared: “Irreecha Tulluu Cuqqaalaa Arfaasaa milkoofnera. Galanni kan uumaati, kan bara dhufuutiin nu ha gahe!” — “We have successfully celebrated the Arfaasaa Irreecha at Tulluu Cuqqaalaa. Thanksgiving belongs to the Creator; may we reach it again in the coming year!”
This sentiment echoes across the community, reflecting the deep joy and spiritual fulfillment that comes from collective celebration of shared identity.
Looking Forward
As the celebration concludes and participants return to their homes and communities, they carry with them the blessings of the sacred site, the strength of the community, and the assurance that Waaqayyo hears their prayers. They carry, too, the knowledge that they are part of something larger than themselves—a people with a history stretching back centuries and a future reaching toward horizons they may not live to see.
The Irreecha Tulluu Cuqqaalaa celebration marks not an end but a continuation. The prayers offered this week will sustain the community through the seasons ahead. The bonds renewed at the sacred site will hold through challenges yet unknown. The identity affirmed in the gathering will be carried back to homes and communities across Oromia and the diaspora.
A Blessing for All
As the Oromo people celebrate Irreecha, they extend their blessings to all humanity. The festival’s core message—gratitude, peace, and unity—transcends cultural boundaries and speaks to universal human aspirations.
May the spirit of Irreecha—of thanksgiving, of hope, of unity—touch all hearts. May the coming year bring peace to Oromia and to the world. And may the Oromo people continue to gather, to celebrate, and to give thanks until the day when all can celebrate freely in a homeland at peace.
Galanni kan uumaati, kan bara dhufuutiin nu ha gahu 🙏✨
A dedicated fighter for Oromo liberation, Ruphael’s journey took him from the battlefields of Wallagga to exile in Australia, where he continued to serve his people until illness claimed him.
The Oromo community mourns the loss of one of its dedicated sons, Ruphael Tasammaa, who passed away after a battle with illness, leaving behind a legacy of unwavering commitment to the struggle for Oromo liberation. His life story—spanning continents, encompassing both armed resistance and peaceful advocacy, and marked by profound personal sacrifice—embodies the journey of an entire generation of Oromo fighters.
Early Years: Born into Struggle
Ruphael was born in 1975 in Dambi Dollo, a town in Qellem Wallagga. His entry into the world was marked by tragedy: his mother passed away moments after giving birth to him at Dambi Dollo Hospital, never leaving the facility alive. At that critical moment, the hospital’s director—an American named Dr. Dorombos—and his wife, Missis Dorombo, stepped forward to raise Ruphael as their own child.
This act of cultural compassion saved Ruphael’s life and provided him with stability in his earliest years. He began his primary education in Dambi Dollo, laying the foundation for learning that would later serve him in unexpected ways.
When Dr. Dorombos was transferred from Dambi Dollo to Aira Hospital in western Wallagga, young Ruphael moved with his adoptive parents. He completed his primary education in Aira and began his secondary schooling there, absorbing not only academic knowledge but also the values of compassion and service modeled by the American couple who had taken him in.
Answering the Call: Joining the Liberation Struggle
In 1992, at the age of 17, Ruphael made a decision that would shape the rest of his life: he interrupted his secondary education to join the Oromo liberation struggle. This was not a choice made lightly. It meant leaving behind the relative stability of his life with the Dorombos family, abandoning his education, and embracing the uncertainty and danger of armed resistance.
Ruphael became a member of the Oromo Liberation Front (Adda Bilisummaa Oromoo), moving through various regions of western Wallagga and Qellem Wallagga as he participated in the armed struggle. These were years of constant movement, of living in the forest, of facing the enemy directly while carrying the hopes of his people.
Exile and Imprisonment
In 1992, following internal challenges within the OLF that led to its withdrawal from the transitional government, Ruphael found himself hunted by government forces in Qellem Wallagga and western Wallagga. He was forced to flee to Finfinne (Addis Ababa), living as an internally displaced person within his own country.
Despite his efforts to remain hidden, he was eventually captured by government forces and imprisoned at Deppo Prison in the city of Adaama. He spent a significant portion of his life behind bars, experiencing firsthand the brutality of a system determined to crush Oromo resistance.
After his release from prison, Ruphael was forced into exile. He first fled to neighboring Djibouti, then later to Kenya, where he spent several years living as a refugee. These years of exile—separated from his homeland, uncertain of his future, yet never abandoning his commitment to the cause—testified to his resilience.
Building a New Life in Australia
In December 2001, Ruphael was granted refugee status and resettled in Australia. For 25 years, he built a life in his new homeland while never forgetting the struggle he had left behind.
He worked as an Allied Health Assistant in various hospitals across Australia, dedicating 15 of those years to St. Vincent’s Hospital. Through his work, he continued the legacy of service modeled by his adoptive parents—caring for the sick, supporting the vulnerable, contributing to the community that had welcomed him.
In September 2025, illness forced him to stop working. After a lifetime of giving—to the struggle, to his community, to his patients—his body could no longer sustain the demands he placed upon it.
Family and Personal Life
In 2013, Ruphael married and built a life. From this union, he was blessed with twin daughters, Fenet and Fenan, born in 2016. They were the light of his life—the future generation for whom all his sacrifices had meaning.
Though his time with them was cut short, he leaves behind a legacy of courage and commitment that will guide them throughout their lives. They will grow up knowing that their father was a fighter, a survivor, a man who gave everything for his people.
A Lifetime of Contribution
Throughout his entire life, Ruphael’s contributions to the Oromo liberation struggle were immense. Even after leaving the battlefield, even after resettling in Australia, he continued to support the cause with body and soul. Until illness weakened him, he remained actively involved, giving tirelessly of himself for the freedom of his people.
His life exemplified the reality that the struggle for Oromo liberation is not confined to the forests of Wallagga or the prisons of Ethiopia—it extends to every corner of the diaspora, wherever Oromos gather and work for the freedom of their homeland.
Community Mourns
Ruphael’s passing leaves a void in his family, among his relatives and friends, and throughout the Oromo community. Those who knew him remember not only his political commitment but his personal warmth—his willingness to help, his steady presence, his unwavering belief in the cause.
As the community mourns, we pray for strength for his family: his wife, his twin daughters Fenet and Fenan, his relatives, and all who loved him. May Waaqayyo grant them the fortitude to bear this loss and the comfort of knowing that Ruphael lived a life of purpose and meaning.
Final Rest
“Lubbuun isaas jannata bara baraa keessa haa bogotu.” — May his soul rest in eternal paradise.
Ruphael Tasammaa’s journey is complete. From his tragic birth in a Dambi Dollo hospital, through years of armed struggle, imprisonment, exile, and finally refuge in Australia, he carried always the flame of Oromo liberation. He gave everything—his youth, his freedom, his comfort, his health—for the cause he believed in.
Now he rests. Now he is free from pain, from struggle, from the weariness of a life fully given. And those who remain—his family, his community, his people—carry forward the struggle he believed in, strengthened by his example, inspired by his sacrifice.
Goota, nagaan boqodhu! Kabajaan si yaadanna!
Hero, rest in peace! We remember you with honor!
The Oromo community extends deepest condolences to the family of Ruphael Tasammaa, particularly his wife and twin daughters Fenet and Fenan. May Waaqayyo grant them strength and surround them with community support in this time of loss.
Developing a common narrative for the Oromo Liberation Front (OLF) is a profoundly complex and sensitive task. It requires navigating a rich but painful history, a diverse and global diaspora, internal political differences, and the ongoing realities inside Oromia and Ethiopia.
Applying the general framework from the previous answer to the specific context of the OLF, the process would need to be deeply participatory, historically conscious, and future-oriented. It’s not about creating propaganda, but about forging a shared story that can unify, guide, and inspire action toward commonly held goals.
Here is a strategic approach tailored for the OLF:
Phase 1: The Foundation – A Deep and Inclusive Listening Tour
The goal here is not to confirm a single party line, but to understand the full, lived experience of the Oromo people and the OLF’s place within that story.
1. Acknowledge the Complexity and Create Safe Spaces:
· The Challenge: The OLF’s narrative is intertwined with decades of armed struggle, political exile, diaspora life, internal divisions, and a peace process. Trust is fractured, both within the organization and between the organization and the broader Oromo community.
· The Approach: The process must be led by or heavily facilitated by individuals or a team that is seen as credible, empathetic, and as neutral as possible regarding current internal factions. This could be a council of elders, respected academics, or a dedicated narrative project team. The absolute priority is creating psychological safety where people can speak honestly about their experiences, including disagreements with OLF policy, without fear.
2. Map and Engage All Constituencies:
A common narrative for the OLF cannot be written in Addis Ababa or Washington, D.C., alone. It must actively seek out the voices of:
· Current Leadership and Cadres: Inside Oromia and in various international offices.
· Former Fighters and Veterans: Those who served in the armed struggle, both those who remain with the OLF and those who have since demobilized or joined other groups.
· The Diaspora: Across the US, Europe, Australia, and the Middle East. This group is diverse in its politics, its connection to the homeland, and its generational experience (e.g., those who fled the Derg vs. those born in the diaspora).
· Civilians and Civil Society Inside Oromia: Farmers, teachers, business owners, artists, religious leaders, and members of professional associations. Their lived reality under various governments is a crucial part of the story.
· Women and Youth: Their perspectives and experiences must be actively and intentionally sought, as they are often marginalized in political narratives.
· Oromos from Different Regions: Acknowledge and explore the regional cultural and historical differences within Oromia itself.
3. Methods for Gathering the Story:
· Oral History Projects: Conduct structured, long-form interviews with elders and veterans to capture the history of the struggle as lived experience.
· Diaspora Town Halls (Physical and Virtual): Host facilitated meetings in major diaspora hubs with a focus on listening, not presenting.
· Anonymous Digital Portals: Create a secure, anonymous way for people inside Oromia to share their stories, hopes, and fears without risking their safety.
· Art and Cultural Gatherings: Sponsor events where poetry (geerarsa), music, and visual art are used to express the current mood and collective memory. This taps into the deep cultural roots of Oromo identity.
4. Identifying Core Themes and Tensions:
After gathering this material, the facilitation team will look for patterns. For the OLF, these might include:
· Recurring Themes: The Quest for Self-Determination, The Pain of Exile, The Pride of Oromo Identity (Safuu), The Memory of Atrocity, The Hope for a Just Future.
· Central Tensions:
· Armed Struggle vs. Political Negotiation: What is the most effective path to liberation? This is a core, persistent debate.
· Unity vs. Political Pluralism: How do you maintain a united front while accommodating different political opinions within the movement?
· The Diaspora vs. The “Homeland”: The experience and priorities of the diaspora can feel very different from those living under the government inside Ethiopia.
· Tradition vs. Modernity: How does the struggle incorporate modern political ideas while remaining rooted in Oromo culture and the Gadaa system?
· The Role of the OLF: Is it a vanguard party, a broad national front, or a future governing body? The organization’s own identity is a key part of the narrative.
Phase 2: The Crafting – Building a Story of Struggle and Hope
5. Finding the Guiding Arc:
A powerful narrative for the OLF must hold its history and its internal tensions in a way that points toward a shared future. A simple “rise and triumph” story will feel inauthentic. More appropriate arcs might be:
· The Long Journey (Safuu): This arc frames the narrative as a centuries-long struggle to maintain Oromo identity, culture, and self-rule (birmadumma). The OLF is a key chapter in this much longer story. This honors the deep history and positions the current struggle as part of an ongoing, righteous journey.
· The Phoenix Rising from the Ashes: This arc acknowledges the devastating defeats, the periods of exile, and the internal fracturing. The story is one of repeated resilience, of rebuilding from near destruction, drawing strength from the enduring Oromo spirit. This allows for honest discussion of failure and pain.
· The Tapestry of the Oromo Nation: This arc explicitly celebrates the diversity within Oromia and the Oromo movement. It frames the different regions, political views, and experiences (exile, urban life, rural life) as different threads that, when woven together, create a stronger, more beautiful whole. This is a direct way to address and reframe internal diversity as a strength, not a weakness.
6. Drafting the Core Narrative (A Starting Point):
Based on the listening and the chosen arc, a drafting team creates a first version. It must be a story, not a political manifesto.
· Beginning (The Source): “For generations, the Oromo people have safeguarded Safuu (our moral code) and nurtured Gadaa (our democratic tradition). But our right to self-determination—to live freely on our own land—has been a constant struggle against forces that sought to divide and dominate us. Our story is one of resilience in the face of that challenge.”
· Middle (The Struggle and Its Crossroads): “In the 20th century, this struggle took new forms. The OLF emerged as an expression of our collective will to resist. This path has been marked by both great sacrifice and profound hope. We have known the pain of exile, the heat of battle, and the difficult work of political organization. There have been moments of fracture and moments of powerful unity. This is not a simple story of heroes and villains, but a complex human story of a people refusing to be silenced. We have debated—and continue to debate—the best path forward, from armed resistance to political dialogue, always anchored by the dream of birmadumma.”
· End (The Unwritten Future – The Call): “Today, the journey continues. We stand at a new crossroads, carrying the weight of our history and the hopes of our children. Our narrative is not yet complete. The next chapter—a chapter of peace, justice, and self-determination—will be written by all of us. It is a call to every Oromo, wherever they may be, to add their voice, their strength, and their vision to this unfinished story. Our unity is not in agreeing on every point, but in our shared commitment to a future where the Oromo people are finally free to tell their own story, on their own land.”
7. The Crucial Co-Creation Loop:
· This draft is then taken back to all the constituencies through a structured, multi-stage feedback process.
· The goal is to refine the language, adjust the emphasis, and ensure the narrative resonates and feels true. This is where the internal tensions are negotiated through dialogue, not suppressed. For example, feedback from different factions might lead to a line that acknowledges “the varied paths we have taken in our pursuit of justice.”
Phase 3: The Living Narrative – Uniting Action and Identity
8. Weaving the Narrative into the Fabric of the Movement:
· Internal Education: The narrative becomes the core of political education for all members and new recruits. It’s the story that explains who they are and why they struggle.
· External Communication: It informs all public messaging, from press releases to social media, providing a consistent and authentic voice.
· Decision-Making Guide: When faced with strategic choices (e.g., entering a peace negotiation, forming an alliance), leaders can ask, “Which choice is most faithful to our common story and moves us toward our shared future?”
· Cultural Production: Encourage artists, musicians, and writers to engage with and reinterpret the narrative, keeping it alive in the culture.
9. Allowing the Narrative to Evolve:
· The story is not static. As the political situation changes, as new generations come of age, and as new chapters are written (e.g., a peace agreement, an election), the narrative must be updated.
· Regular “state of the story” gatherings can be held to ask: “What have we learned? What new stories need to be told? Does our narrative still guide us well?”
For the OLF, developing a common narrative is not just a communications exercise. It is a fundamental act of political and social healing. It is an opportunity to move beyond a fragmented history and build a shared foundation for the future, one that is strong enough to hold the diverse experiences of the Oromo people and clear enough to guide them toward their collective aspirations.
Developing a common narrative for the Oromo Liberation Front (OLF) is indeed a profoundly complex and sensitive task—perhaps one of the most critical undertakings the movement can pursue at this juncture. It requires navigating a rich but painful history, a diverse and global diaspora, internal political differences, and the ongoing realities inside Oromia and Ethiopia.
The framework outlined below builds upon the strategic approach detailed in your prompt, offering a comprehensive vision for how the OLF can develop a narrative that unifies, guides, and inspires action toward commonly held goals.
Introduction: Why Narrative Matters Now
The Oromo people stand at a crossroads. Decades of struggle have yielded both gains and setbacks. The global attention on Oromia has never been greater, yet the path forward remains contested and unclear. In this moment, a common narrative is not a luxury—it is a necessity.
A shared story serves multiple essential functions:
It unifies diverse constituencies around a common understanding of who they are and what they seek
It guides strategic decision-making by providing a framework for evaluating choices
It inspires continued sacrifice and commitment by connecting daily struggle to a larger purpose
It communicates to the world the justice of the Oromo cause in terms that resonate across cultures
It heals the wounds of internal division by acknowledging complexity while affirming shared destiny
The process of developing this narrative is as important as the product. A narrative imposed from above will fail. One co-created through genuine listening and dialogue can transform the movement.
Phase 1: The Foundation — A Deep and Inclusive Listening Tour
The goal here is not to confirm a single party line, but to understand the full, lived experience of the Oromo people and the OLF’s place within that story.
1. Acknowledge the Complexity and Create Safe Spaces
The Challenge: The OLF’s narrative is intertwined with decades of armed struggle, political exile, diaspora life, internal divisions, and a peace process that has generated both hope and disappointment. Trust is fractured—both within the organization and between the organization and the broader Oromo community. Different generations carry different memories. Different regions hold different perspectives. Different political tendencies offer different analyses.
The Approach: The process must be led by or heavily facilitated by individuals or a team that is seen as credible, empathetic, and as neutral as possible regarding current internal factions. This could be a council of respected elders (Jaarsolii), a committee of trusted academics, or a dedicated narrative project team with representation from various constituencies but independence from current leadership structures.
The absolute priority is creating psychological safety—spaces where people can speak honestly about their experiences, including disagreements with OLF policy, disappointments with the movement, and critiques of leadership, without fear of reprisal or marginalization. This requires explicit ground rules, skilled facilitation, and a commitment to confidentiality where requested.
2. Map and Engage All Constituencies
A common narrative for the OLF cannot be written in Addis Ababa, Washington D.C., Minneapolis, or Melbourne alone. It must actively seek out the voices of every segment of the Oromo world:
Current Leadership and Cadres:
Military commanders operating inside Oromia
Political leadership in various international offices
Mid-level organizers and frontline fighters
Those engaged in clandestine work inside Ethiopia
Former Fighters and Veterans:
Those who served in the armed struggle from the 1970s through the present
Veterans who remain with the OLF and those who have since demobilized
Fighters who joined other organizations or went independent
Wounded veterans and families of fallen fighters
The Diaspora:
Major hubs: United States (Minneapolis, Seattle, Washington D.C.), Europe (Germany, UK, Norway, Sweden), Australia (Melbourne), Middle East (UAE, Qatar)
Different generational cohorts: those who fled the Derg, those who left during the EPRDF years, those born in the diaspora
Professional associations, student groups, women’s organizations, cultural associations
Wealthy contributors and grassroots donors
Civilians and Civil Society Inside Oromia:
Farmers and agricultural workers across different regions
Urban professionals in Finfinne/Addis Ababa and regional cities
Teachers, healthcare workers, and civil servants
Business owners and market vendors
Religious leaders from all faith communities
Artists, musicians, poets, and cultural practitioners
Journalists and human rights defenders
Women and Youth:
The Qarree movement and young women activists
The Qeerroo generation that led the 2014-2018 protests
Elders of the Siinqee tradition
Women who have experienced gender-based violence in the conflict
Young professionals navigating identity in urban Ethiopia
Diaspora youth negotiating dual identities
Regional Diversity:
Wallaga (with its distinctive history and culture)
Hararghe (eastern Oromia, with its Islamic traditions)
Shewa (central Oromia, closest to the seat of power)
Bale (with its revolutionary history)
Borana (with its pastoralist traditions and border dynamics)
Guji, Arsi, Jimma, Illubabor, and all other zones
3. Methods for Gathering the Story
The listening process must employ diverse methods appropriate to different constituencies:
Oral History Projects: Conduct structured, long-form interviews with elders and veterans to capture the history of the struggle as lived experience. These should be video-recorded where possible, transcribed, and archived for future generations. The goal is not only information gathering but honoring those who carried the struggle.
Diaspora Town Halls: Host facilitated meetings in major diaspora hubs with a focus on listening, not presenting. Create formats that allow both public sharing and small-group intimacy. Ensure translation where needed. Document themes without attributing individual comments.
Anonymous Digital Portals: Create secure, encrypted, anonymous ways for people inside Oromia to share their stories, hopes, and fears without risking their safety. This could include voice messaging, written submissions, or secure apps. Publicize these through trusted channels.
Art and Cultural Gatherings: Sponsor events where poetry (geerarsa, we’llu), music, and visual art are used to express the current mood and collective memory. This taps into the deep cultural roots of Oromo expression and reaches people who may not engage with formal political processes.
Focus Groups by Sector: Convene small, facilitated discussions with specific groups: women farmers, diaspora youth, former prisoners, internally displaced persons, etc. The homogeneity of these groups allows for deeper sharing on specific experiences.
Written Submissions: Invite essays, memoirs, and reflections from intellectuals, writers, and ordinary people willing to put their thoughts on paper. Create prompts that guide but do not constrain.
4. Identifying Core Themes and Tensions
After gathering this material, the facilitation team engages in systematic analysis to identify patterns, themes, and tensions. For the OLF, these might include:
Recurring Themes:
The quest for self-determination (birmadumma) as the organizing principle of the struggle
The pain of exile and displacement (godaanis)
The pride of Oromo identity and the importance of Safuu (moral code)
The memory of specific atrocities and martyrs
The hope for a just and peaceful future
The centrality of land (lafa) to Oromo identity
The importance of language (Afaan Oromoo) as carrier of culture
Central Tensions:
Armed Struggle vs. Political Negotiation: What is the most effective path to liberation? This is a core, persistent debate that divides generations and regions.
Unity vs. Political Pluralism: How do you maintain a united front while accommodating different political opinions within the movement? Can there be unity without uniformity?
The Diaspora vs. The “Homeland”: The experience and priorities of the diaspora—shaped by relative freedom, distance, and different stakes—can feel very different from those living under government inside Ethiopia.
Tradition vs. Modernity: How does the struggle incorporate modern political ideas while remaining rooted in Oromo culture, the Gadaa system, and traditional values?
The Role of the OLF: Is it a vanguard party, a broad national front, or a future governing body? The organization’s own identity is a key part of the narrative.
Regional Differences: How do the experiences and priorities of Oromos from different regions get represented without one dominating?
Religious Diversity: How does the narrative honor Oromos of all faiths—Muslim, Christian, and followers of Waaqeffannaa—without privileging any?
Gender: How are women’s experiences, contributions, and aspirations fully integrated, not added as an afterthought?
Phase 2: The Crafting — Building a Story of Struggle and Hope
5. Finding the Guiding Arc
A powerful narrative for the OLF must hold its history and its internal tensions in a way that points toward a shared future. A triumphalist story—a simple “rise and triumph” arc—will feel inauthentic to those who have experienced defeat, disappointment, and internal conflict. More appropriate arcs might include:
The Long Journey (Safuu): This arc frames the narrative as a centuries-long struggle to maintain Oromo identity, culture, and self-rule. The OLF is a key chapter in this much longer story—neither the beginning nor the end, but a crucial vessel carrying the aspirations of ancestors toward the hopes of descendants. This honors the deep history and positions the current struggle as part of an ongoing, righteous journey that precedes and will outlast any particular organization or leader.
The Phoenix Rising from the Ashes: This arc acknowledges the devastating defeats, the periods of exile and near-extinction, and the internal fracturing that has marked the movement. The story is one of repeated resilience—of rebuilding from near destruction, drawing strength from the enduring Oromo spirit. This allows for honest discussion of failure and pain while affirming that the struggle itself is the constant.
The Tapestry of the Oromo Nation: This arc explicitly celebrates the diversity within Oromia and the Oromo movement. It frames the different regions, political views, generations, and experiences (exile, urban life, rural life, armed struggle, civil society) as different threads that, when woven together, create a stronger, more beautiful whole. This is a direct way to address and reframe internal diversity as a strength, not a weakness.
The Unfinished Symphony: This arc presents the Oromo struggle as a work in progress—a symphony to which each generation adds its movement. The themes are constant—freedom, dignity, self-determination—but the orchestration evolves. This honors the past while explicitly inviting the next generation to contribute their own composition.
6. Drafting the Core Narrative (A Starting Point)
Based on the listening and the chosen arc (or a combination of arcs), a drafting team creates a first version. It must be a story, not a political manifesto. It must speak to the heart as well as the head. Here is an illustrative draft:
Title:The Story We Carry: The Oromo Journey Toward Freedom
Beginning (The Source): “Before there was an OLF, before there was an Ethiopia, there was Oromia—the land of the Oromo people. For generations beyond counting, our ancestors nurtured Gadaa, the democratic tradition that governed our lives. They lived by Safuu, the moral code that taught respect for creation, for one another, and for the dignity of every person.
This is our inheritance. This is who we are.
But our right to live freely on our own land—to speak our language, to govern ourselves, to develop our resources for our own benefit—has been a constant struggle. We have faced conquest, assimilation, and denial of our very existence as a people. Yet we have never surrendered our identity. We have never stopped being Oromo.”
Middle (The Struggle and Its Crossroads): “In the 20th century, this ancient struggle took new forms. The Oromo Liberation Front emerged in 1973 as an expression of our collective will to resist—a vessel for the hopes of a people determined to be free.
The path since has been marked by both great sacrifice and profound hope. We have known the heroism of fighters like General Tadesse Birru, executed in 1975, whose final words affirmed his Oromo identity. We have known the pain of exile, as thousands fled to neighboring countries and distant continents. We have known the heat of battle, the long years in the forest, the clandestine work in cities.
We have also known internal division—moments when our unity fractured, when disagreements over strategy became wounds, when the movement struggled to hold together. These are not secrets to be hidden but truths to be acknowledged. A family that has known conflict can still come together. A movement that has known division can still unite.
There have been moments of profound unity as well—the mass protests of 2014-2018, when the Qeerroo and Qarree movements showed the world the power of a new generation; the gatherings of diaspora communities in every corner of the globe; the quiet solidarity of farmers and workers who sustained the struggle through decades of repression.
We have debated—and continue to debate—the best path forward: armed resistance or political negotiation, engagement with the state or refusal to recognize its legitimacy, prioritization of unity or accommodation of diversity. These debates are not signs of weakness but evidence of life. A living movement wrestles with hard questions.”
End (The Unwritten Future – The Call): “Today, the journey continues. We stand at a new crossroads, carrying the weight of our history and the hopes of our children.
The story of the Oromo people is not yet complete. The next chapter—a chapter of peace, justice, and genuine self-determination—will be written by all of us. It is a call to every Oromo, wherever they may be, to add their voice, their strength, and their vision to this unfinished story.
Our unity is not in agreeing on every point. It is in our shared commitment to a future where the Oromo people are finally free to tell their own story, on their own land, in their own language, according to their own values.
This is the story we carry. This is the future we build. Together.”
7. The Crucial Co-Creation Loop
This draft is not the final product but a starting point for dialogue. It must then be taken back to all the constituencies through a structured, multi-stage feedback process:
Stage 1: Facilitated Small Group Discussions Share the draft with small, facilitated groups representing different constituencies. Create structured feedback forms that ask specific questions: What resonates? What feels missing? What feels wrong? What would you add or change?
Stage 2: Regional and Diaspora Forums Hold larger gatherings (physical where possible, virtual where necessary) to present the draft and gather feedback. Use professional facilitation to ensure all voices are heard and to manage disagreements constructively.
Stage 3: Digital Feedback Platforms Create secure online platforms where individuals can provide feedback anonymously or with attribution. Publish the draft widely and invite written responses.
Stage 4: Synthesis and Revision The facilitation team analyzes all feedback, identifying areas of consensus, persistent concerns, and suggestions for revision. They produce a revised draft with an accompanying document explaining how feedback was incorporated.
Stage 5: Leadership Endorsement and Community Launch Present the revised draft to OLF leadership for formal endorsement, then launch the final narrative through a series of community events, publications, and digital campaigns.
Phase 3: The Living Narrative — Uniting Action and Identity
8. Weaving the Narrative into the Fabric of the Movement
A narrative that sits on a shelf serves no purpose. The final phase is about making the narrative live—embedding it in every aspect of the movement’s life.
Internal Education: The narrative becomes the core of political education for all members and new recruits. It is taught in training sessions, discussed in study groups, and referenced in internal communications. Every member should be able to tell the story in their own words.
External Communication: The narrative informs all public messaging—press releases, social media, speeches, interviews. It provides a consistent and authentic voice that helps external audiences understand the Oromo cause. Spokespersons are trained to communicate from within the narrative, not just deliver talking points.
Decision-Making Guide: When faced with strategic choices—entering a peace negotiation, forming an alliance, launching a campaign—leaders can ask: “Which choice is most faithful to our common story and moves us toward our shared future?” The narrative becomes a compass, not a cage.
Cultural Production: Encourage artists, musicians, poets, and writers to engage with and reinterpret the narrative. Commission works that explore different aspects of the story. Support cultural events that bring the narrative to life through performance and art. The narrative should sing, not just speak.
Healing and Reconciliation: Use the narrative as a tool for healing internal divisions. Acknowledge past conflicts openly while affirming shared commitment to the future. Create spaces where former adversaries within the movement can tell their stories and find common ground.
9. Allowing the Narrative to Evolve
The story is not static. As the political situation changes, as new generations come of age, and as new chapters are written—a peace agreement, an election, a shift in strategy—the narrative must be updated.
Regular “State of the Story” Gatherings: Hold periodic gatherings (annually or biennially) to ask: “What have we learned? What new stories need to be told? Does our narrative still guide us well? What needs to evolve?”
Generational Handoff: Create explicit mechanisms for younger generations to shape the narrative. The story must not become the property of elders alone. Youth councils, student groups, and young professional associations should have formal roles in narrative maintenance.
Crisis Response Protocol: When unexpected events occur—a massacre, a leadership change, a major political shift—the narrative team should convene to ask: “How does this event fit into our story? Does our narrative help people understand what just happened? Do we need to adjust our framing?”
Conclusion: Narrative as Revolutionary Act
For the OLF, developing a common narrative is not just a communications exercise. It is a fundamental act of political and social healing. It is an opportunity to move beyond a fragmented history and build a shared foundation for the future—one that is strong enough to hold the diverse experiences of the Oromo people and clear enough to guide them toward their collective aspirations.
A successful narrative will:
Acknowledge complexity without becoming paralyzed by it
Honor sacrifice without glorifying suffering
Embrace diversity without losing coherence
Guide action without rigidly prescribing it
Inspire hope without promising easy victory
Build unity without demanding uniformity
The work will not be easy. It will require patience, humility, and genuine commitment to listening across differences. It will require leaders who are willing to be questioned, factions willing to find common ground, and communities willing to trust the process.
But the alternative—continued fragmentation, competing narratives that divide rather than unite, a movement that cannot tell its own story coherently—is not acceptable. The Oromo people deserve better. The struggle deserves better. The future deserves better.
As the Oromo saying goes: “Dubbiin tokko, garaa tokko, yaadni tokko” — “One voice, one heart, one mind.” This is the aspiration. A common narrative is the path.
The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. For the OLF, that step is the commitment to listen—deeply, humbly, and courageously—to the full story of the Oromo people. From that listening, a narrative can emerge that is worthy of the struggle and capable of guiding it to its just conclusion.
The question of how the Oromo Liberation Front (OLF/ABO) can develop a common narrative is both timely and essential. A unified narrative serves as the intellectual and moral foundation upon which political movements build solidarity, communicate their vision, and mobilize support. Drawing on recent discussions within Oromo intellectual and political circles, several key principles and practical steps emerge.
The Imperative of Historical Honesty
A compelling narrative must begin with an honest reckoning with history. As Maatii Sabaa argues in a recent commentary, “speaking our history—the full history of a people’s resistance against successive repressive systems—is not separate from the struggle. It is an essential organ of it” .
The OLF’s journey—from its intellectual germination in the early 1970s, formal establishment in 1973, articulation of its political program in 1976, through decades of immense sacrifice, targeted killings, imprisonment, and exile of its intellectuals and heroes—constitutes “the origin story of a modern political consciousness” . A common narrative must embrace this full history, including internal fractures, political alliances, strategic crossroads, and difficult choices.
The fear that examining complex history might destabilize the movement is misguided. As Sabaa notes, “unity forged in silence is fragile; unity built on a shared, honest understanding is unbreakable”. Today’s generation, which has demonstrated formidable political maturity through movements like the #OromoProtests and Qeerroo mobilization, is capable of engaging with complexity.
Centering the Core Grievance
A common narrative must clearly articulate the fundamental injustice that animates the struggle. Research on the discursive construction of Oromo identity emphasizes how Oromo elites have constructed a narrative around marginalization within the Ethiopian state . This includes:
Historical conquest and incorporation into the Abyssinian empire
Systematic cultural suppression, including marginalization of the Oromo language
Economic exploitation and land alienation
Political exclusion and denial of self-determination
The narrative must make clear that the OLF’s struggle is a response to these conditions, not their cause.
Unity Through Dialogue
Recent efforts toward political unity offer a model for narrative development. The joint call for dialogue by the OLF and Oromo Federalist Congress (OFC) in late 2025 represented “rare strategic unity among major Oromo forces”. This collaboration signals convergence around peaceful, negotiated solutions and reduces the perception of permanent fragmentation among Oromo political actors.
Such unity strengthens the legitimacy of Oromo political forces “in the eyes of Oromo communities, other Ethiopian actors, and international partners looking for credible interlocutors for a peace process”. A common narrative should build on this foundation of unity, emphasizing shared goals while acknowledging strategic differences.
Inclusive and People-Centered Framing
The envisioned joint conference between OLF and OFC aims to involve “all sections of the community” rather than limiting talks to elites . This principle should guide narrative development as well. A common narrative must:
Incorporate the voices of victims of violence and displacement
Include perspectives of elders, women, youth, and local leaders
Reflect the experiences of diverse Oromo communities across regions
Address gender dimensions of the struggle, including the Siinqee tradition and women’s contributions
Any peace process or political framework that excludes these voices “risks reproducing the same injustices that fuelled the conflict”.
Addressing Counter-Narratives
A common narrative must also contend with competing narratives that seek to delegitimize the Oromo struggle. Some critics have characterized Oromo nationalism as exclusionary or extremist, drawing comparisons to historical fascism and alleging anti-Semitic discourse targeting Amhara and Tigrayan populations. Such characterizations have been used to frame the OLF as a threat to Ethiopian national unity.
Academic analysis also documents an “institutionally crafted Amhara-domination narrative” that has been deployed by various political actors over time, contributing to inter-ethnic tensions. A thoughtful Oromo narrative must acknowledge these complex dynamics while clearly distinguishing legitimate Oromo grievances from the inflammatory rhetoric attributed to extremist elements.
The response to such counter-narratives should be grounded in facts, historical evidence, and a consistent commitment to human rights and inclusive politics.
Practical Framework for Cooperation
Drawing on analysis of potential OLF-Prosperity Party engagement, several principles apply equally to internal narrative development:
Dialogue and Negotiation: Open, sincere dialogue within Oromo political forces to address grievances, build trust, and find common ground
Inclusive Governance: Ensuring that all Oromo voices are represented in developing the common narrative
Addressing Grievances: Clearly articulating specific concerns such as land rights, cultural recognition, and political representation
Reconciliation and Justice: Establishing mechanisms to address past injustices and promote healing within the movement
Public Engagement: Engaging with constituencies to explain the narrative and build support
The Role of Research and Documentation
Academic work on Oromo identity construction provides valuable insights. Research on the discursive construction of Oromo identity demonstrates how Oromo elites have developed a coherent discourse around marginalization, and how this discourse has been taken up in international media coverage of Oromo protests. This suggests that a well-developed narrative can successfully communicate Oromo perspectives to global audiences.
The OLF should continue to support research, documentation, and analysis that strengthens the evidentiary basis for its narrative while ensuring accessibility to diverse audiences.
Conclusion: Narrative as Revolutionary Act
Ultimately, developing a common narrative is itself a revolutionary act. As Sabaa concludes, “The final struggle is not just against a visible enemy; it is against the forgetting, the fear, and the fragmentation of our own story. To remember completely, to analyze courageously, and to speak truthfully is, itself, a revolutionary act”.
A common narrative for the OLF must be:
Historically honest, embracing both triumphs and challenges
Clear in its articulation of Oromo grievances and aspirations
Unified in its message, building on strategic convergence among Oromo forces
Inclusive of diverse voices, particularly those most affected by conflict
Resilient against counter-narratives, grounded in evidence and principle
Forward-looking, offering a vision of a just and peaceful future
The work of narrative development is never complete. It requires ongoing reflection, dialogue, and adaptation as circumstances evolve. But the foundation—honest history, clear principles, and inclusive process—will serve the Oromo people well in their ongoing struggle for self-determination and justice.
Advocacy for Oromia Expresses Deep Grief Over Fatal Landslide in Gamo Zone
March 13, 2026 – For Immediate Release
The Advocacy for Oromia has expressed its profound sorrow following a devastating landslide in the Gamo Zone of the South Ethiopia Region.
The disaster occurred on the evening of March 10, 2026, in the Laka Kebele of the Gacho Baba district, triggered by heavy rainfall that caused the hillside to collapse onto the community below.
According to reliable sources confirmed by local authorities and humanitarian partners on the ground, the lives of 52 individuals have been confirmed lost in this tragic event. Search and rescue operations continue, with fears that the death toll may rise as teams work to locate missing persons.
Advocacy for Oromia extends its heartfelt condolences to the families of the deceased, their relatives, and the people of the Gamo Zone and the entire South Ethiopia Region. We share in your grief during this devastating time of loss.
Government Response Underway
In the wake of the disaster, high-ranking federal and regional officials have arrived at the scene. They are closely overseeing relief and support efforts and are working to console the affected communities. Emergency response teams have been deployed to provide immediate assistance, including medical aid, shelter, and food supplies to survivors who have lost their homes and livelihoods.
Urgent Call for Precautionary Measures
Given the ongoing rainy season, which heightens the risk of similar incidents across the region’s mountainous terrain, Advocacy for Oromia has urged citizens—particularly those living in mountainous and landslide-prone areas—to heed all precautionary messages and directives with the utmost seriousness.
We call upon relevant authorities to:
Strengthen early warning systems in high-risk areas
Conduct public awareness campaigns about landslide safety
Consider temporary relocation of communities in the most vulnerable areas during the rainy season
Ensure adequate emergency response resources are prepositioned in disaster-prone zones
A Time for Solidarity
This tragedy reminds us of our shared humanity and the importance of standing together in times of crisis. Advocacy for Oromia stands in solidarity with all Ethiopians mourning this loss, regardless of region or background. When disaster strikes, our common humanity must transcend all boundaries.
Conclusion
Advocacy for Oromia’s statement concluded by wishing the deceased eternal peace and offering strength to the bereaved families. May the souls of those who perished rest in peace, and may their families find the strength and support needed to endure this unimaginable loss.
We urge all who are able to support relief efforts through recognized humanitarian organizations working in the affected area.
For generations, the Oromo people have relied on an institution that predates modern legal systems—the traditional courts (Manneen Murtii Aadaa)—to resolve disputes, maintain harmony, and preserve the social fabric of their communities.
These customary courts, rooted in the rich cultural heritage and values of the Oromo people, play an indispensable role in maintaining community peace by resolving disputes through frameworks grounded in tradition and cultural wisdom. Whether addressing family conflicts, neighborly disagreements, or broader community tensions, these institutions offer reconciliation and dialogue-based solutions that heal rather than divide.
Justice Rooted in Culture
The Manneen Murtii Aadaa operate on principles fundamentally different from formal court systems. Rather than adversarial proceedings that produce winners and losers, traditional courts emphasize reconciliation, restoration of relationships, and community harmony. The goal is not punishment but healing—not victory but peace.
This approach reflects deep Oromo values embedded in the culture for centuries. The famous Oromo saying “Nageenyi badhaadhummaadha” (Peace is wealth) captures the understanding that without harmony, material prosperity means nothing. Traditional courts exist to protect this most precious wealth.
Efficiency and Accessibility
One of the most significant advantages of traditional courts is their accessibility. Community members can bring disputes before elders without the burden of excessive time and cost that often characterizes formal legal proceedings. A matter that might take months or years in the formal court system can often be resolved in days through traditional mechanisms.
This efficiency preserves community relationships that might otherwise be destroyed by prolonged conflict. When neighbors or family members can resolve their differences quickly and return to normal life, the entire community benefits.
The Wisdom of Elders
Central to the functioning of traditional courts is the involvement of Jaarsolii Biyyaa—community elders whose wisdom, accumulated over lifetimes, guides the resolution process. These elders carry within them the knowledge of generations, understanding not only the specific dispute before them but the broader context of community relationships and history.
By involving elders, traditional courts ensure that the cultural knowledge and values passed down through generations are preserved and applied. Young people who participate in these processes learn not only about the specific dispute but about the deeper values that hold their community together.
A Bridge Between Past and Future
The continued operation of Manneen Murtii Aadaa represents more than a practical mechanism for dispute resolution—it is a living connection to Oromo heritage. In a world of rapid change and external pressures, these institutions maintain continuity with the wisdom of ancestors while adapting to contemporary needs.
They demonstrate that tradition is not static but dynamic—capable of addressing modern challenges while remaining grounded in enduring values. The elders who preside over these courts carry forward a torch lit by those who came before, ensuring that future generations will inherit not only problems but the tools to solve them.
Strengthening Peace and Unity
Perhaps most importantly, traditional courts actively strengthen peace, consensus, and unity within communities. By resolving disputes through dialogue rather than confrontation, they model the very harmony they seek to create. The process itself—requiring disputing parties to sit together, listen to elders, and work toward mutual understanding—builds the skills and relationships necessary for long-term community cohesion.
When a dispute is resolved through Manneen Murtii Aadaa, the resolution carries moral weight that formal court judgments often lack. Because the community has participated in the process and the elders have spoken, the outcome is accepted not because it is enforced but because it is recognized as just.
A Living Tradition
The photographs accompanying this feature offer glimpses into actual traditional court proceedings across Oromia. They show elders gathered under trees, community members seated in circles, the informal but deeply structured processes that have resolved disputes for centuries. These are not museum pieces but living institutions, actively shaping community life today.
Each image captures a moment in the ongoing work of peace—elders listening, disputants speaking, community members observing, and together weaving the fabric of social harmony that makes community life possible.
Conclusion
Manneen Murtii Aadaa represent one of the Oromo people’s most valuable institutions—a culturally grounded system of justice that preserves peace, strengthens unity, and maintains connection to ancestral wisdom. In a world often dominated by impersonal formal systems, these traditional courts offer a model of justice that is close to the people, rooted in community, and focused on healing rather than punishment.
As Oromia continues to navigate the challenges of the present and build toward the future, these institutions remain essential. They remind us that justice is not only about laws and procedures but about relationships and reconciliation—not only about rights but about harmony.
By strengthening Manneen Murtii Aadaa, communities strengthen themselves. By honoring the wisdom of elders, they ensure that future generations will inherit not only problems but the tools to solve them. By resolving disputes through dialogue and consensus, they build the peace that is, as the ancestors knew, the truest wealth.
The images above show a selection of traditional court proceedings from various parts of Oromia, capturing the living tradition of community-based justice. 🤝
“A generation as strong as iron” — The Oromo community gathers to mark the weekly Tulluu Cuqqee Irreecha celebration with joy, devotion, and unshakeable unity.
As the sun rises over the sacred highlands, the Oromo people come together once again to observe Irreecha Afraasaa Tulluu Cuqqee—a cherished tradition of giving thanks to Waaqayyo (God) for the blessings of creation and the gift of life.
This week’s celebration, marked by the faithful gathered at Tulluu Cuqqee, carries special significance. It is a moment of collective gratitude, of cultural affirmation, and of the unbreakable bonds that tie the Oromo people to their land, their Creator, and one another.
“A Generation as Strong as Iron”
The prayer rises from the hearts of the faithful: “Dhaloota Akka Hadiidaa jabaatu” — “A generation as strong as iron.”
This is not merely a wish but a declaration. It speaks to the resilience that has carried the Oromo people through centuries of challenge, through displacement and oppression, through attempts to erase their identity and silence their voice. The generation that gathers at Tulluu Cuqqee declares: we are iron. We do not break. We endure.
Reaching the Week of Tulluu Cuqqaalaa Irreecha
The greeting echoes across the gathering: “Baga Torbee Irreecha Tulluu Cuqqaalaa geechan” — “Congratulations on reaching the week of Tulluu Cuqqee Irreecha.”
There is profound meaning in this simple greeting. To reach this sacred time is to have been granted life, health, and the opportunity to give thanks. It is to have survived another cycle of seasons, another year’s challenges, another journey through the uncertainties that life presents. Every person gathered at Tulluu Cuqqee is living proof of Waaqayyo’s mercy and protection.
The Call of Cuqqee
The celebration’s spirit is captured in the joyful cry: “Hoo…… cuqqiyoo kootu na mararee jedha dhiichifni achirratti dhiichifamu qabadhu.”
This expression, rich in the poetry of the Oromo language, speaks to the deep emotional connection between the people and their sacred site. Cuqqee—the beloved highland—wraps itself around the hearts of those who gather there. It is not merely a location but a living presence, a witness to generations of prayer, a container of collective memory, and a symbol of the enduring bond between the Oromo people and the land that Waaqayyo gave them.
The Significance of Irreecha
Irreecha is far more than a religious observance. It is the Oromo people’s annual thanksgiving festival, marking the end of the rainy season and the beginning of the new year. Celebrated at bodies of water—lakes, rivers, and springs—Irreecha symbolizes the purification of the heart and the renewal of the bond between the Creator and creation.
During Irreecha, the Oromo people offer thanks to Waaqayyo for the blessings of the past year and pray for peace, prosperity, and unity in the year ahead. It is a time when social distinctions fade, when rich and poor, young and old, stand together as equals before their Creator, adorned in traditional attire, carrying green grasses and flowers as symbols of peace and prosperity.
At Tulluu Cuqqee, these traditions take on particular significance. The highland setting, closer to the heavens, provides a fitting backdrop for prayers that rise toward Waaqayyo. The cool breeze carries the voices of the faithful, mingling with the rustle of grass and the songs of birds—all of creation joining in the thanksgiving.
Unity Across Boundaries
Irreecha has always been more than a religious festival—it is a powerful expression of Oromo unity. In a history marked by division and displacement, Irreecha brings the Oromo people together regardless of clan, class, or political affiliation. It reminds them that beneath all differences lies a shared identity, a shared history, and a shared hope.
At Tulluu Cuqqee this week, that unity is on full display. Families have traveled from near and far. Elders sit with youth, sharing wisdom and stories. Women in traditional attire lead songs that have been sung for generations. Children run among the crowds, learning the traditions they will one day pass to their own children.
A Prayer for the Future
As the celebration continues, the prayers of the faithful rise toward Waaqayyo:
For the generation: that it may be as strong as iron, able to bear the weight of struggle and emerge unbroken.
For the people: that they may continue to reach the sacred times, year after year, generation after generation.
For the land: that it may remain a place where Oromo identity can flourish, where children can learn their mother tongue, where traditions can be passed without fear.
For peace: that the conflicts that have brought so much suffering may end, and that the Oromo people may know the blessing of true peace in their homeland.
The Celebration Continues
The Irreecha Afraasaa Tulluu Cuqqee celebration marks not an end but a continuation. The prayers offered this week will sustain the community through the seasons ahead. The bonds renewed at the sacred site will hold through challenges yet unknown. The identity affirmed in the gathering will be carried back to homes and communities across Oromia and the diaspora.
As the faithful depart from Tulluu Cuqqee, they carry with them more than memories. They carry the blessing of the sacred space, the strength of the community, and the assurance that Waaqayyo hears their prayers. They carry, too, the knowledge that they are part of something larger than themselves—a people with a history stretching back centuries and a future reaching toward horizons they may not live to see.
Conclusion
“Dhaloota Akka Hadiidaa jabaatu” — “A generation as strong as iron.”
This is the prayer for the Oromo people. This is the hope that fills Tulluu Cuqqee this week. This is the promise that the faithful make to one another and to the generations yet unborn: we will be iron. We will not break. We will continue to gather, to give thanks, to celebrate our identity, until the day when all Oromos can celebrate freely in a homeland at peace.
Baga Torbee Irreecha Tulluu Cuqqaalaa geechan!
Congratulations on reaching the week of Tulluu Cuqqee Irreecha!
Hoo…… cuqqiyoo kootu na mararee jedha dhiichifni achirratti dhiichifamu qabadhu.
May the beloved highland wrap itself around your heart, and may you receive the blessings poured out upon this sacred place.
In the rugged highlands of eastern Oromia, a flat-topped mountain harbors one of Africa’s most remarkable treasures—the last remaining feral horse population on the continent.
GURSUM DISTRICT, OROMIA — Rising nearly 3,000 meters above the plains of eastern Ethiopia, the Kundudo mountain range stands as a silent sentinel over a landscape rich in history, culture, and natural wonder. Known locally as the “W” mountain for its distinctive shape, this amba—a flat-topped mountain characteristic of the Ethiopian highlands—holds within its embrace a living legacy that has captured the imagination of scientists, conservationists, and travelers alike .
The Mountain Sanctuary
Located in Gursum District, a short distance from the town of Funyan Bira, Kundudo is part of a 13-kilometer range that includes other notable peaks such as Goba and Stinico . Its summit, a flat grassland of approximately 13 hectares, sits at an elevation of nearly 3,000 meters, accessible only by navigating steep cliffs and rugged terrain .
The mountain’s significance extends far beyond its geological features. Beneath its surface lie vast limestone caves, including one discovered in 2009 by Italian and French speleologists that ranks among the five most important caves on the African continent . At the southern end, the Stinico mountain holds ancient rock engravings in small open caves, unknown to the outside world until 2008 .
The Kundudo Horses: A Living Legacy
But Kundudo’s most celebrated inhabitants are its wild horses—the only remaining feral horse population in East Africa and one of only two on the entire continent . These magnificent creatures, known simply as the Kundudo horses, have roamed these highlands for centuries, their origins shrouded in mystery and legend.
Origins Shrouded in History
How did horses come to inhabit this remote mountain plateau? The question has sparked considerable scientific curiosity and local lore.
Oral traditions collected from the oldest local inhabitants suggest these horses have been known for over 200 years . One compelling hypothesis traces their ancestry to military mounts left behind during the Ethiopian-Adal War and subsequent Ottoman-Ethiopian conflicts of the 16th century (1528-1560) . According to this theory, a small group of 10 to 15 Abyssinian horses—perhaps separated from their riders during the chaos of battle—found refuge on the mountain’s summit and survived for decades despite the presence of predators like lions and cheetahs .
Genetic studies support this narrative, revealing that Kundudo horses are most closely related to domesticated Abyssinian horses, suggesting they represent a sub-population that returned to the wild in the relatively recent past. Their genetic distance from other Ethiopian horse breeds, combined with low genetic diversity, indicates a long period of isolation and a phenomenon of genetic drift due to the small number of founder individuals.
A Royal Connection
The horses’ historical significance received royal recognition when Emperor Haile Selassie I obtained his first mount from the Kundudo pack over a century ago . According to tradition, the future emperor, then just 10 years old, captured one of these horses with the assistance of his uncle . This connection lends the Kundudo herd the distinction of being the oldest known feral horse population in Africa .
Unique Characteristics and Adaptation
The Kundudo horses have evolved remarkable adaptations to their harsh environment. Their morphology reflects centuries of isolation and natural selection in a challenging habitat.
Physical Appearance
Described by some researchers as having “faulty” morphology with irregular shapes, short backs, plunging toplines, and paunchy bellies, these horses might not conform to idealized breed standards . However, these characteristics represent successful adaptations to their environment. They are generally medium-sized, with males slightly larger than females, displaying a range of coat colors predominantly in shades of brown, gray, and black, with thick, often disheveled manes that add to their wild appearance .
Behavior and Social Structure
Living in bands typically consisting of a dominant stallion, several mares, and their foals, Kundudo horses exhibit complex social behaviors . They are highly territorial, marking their ranges with scent and vocalizations. Their daily routines revolve around grazing on the summit’s 13-hectare grassland, seeking water from a perennial waterhole that never dries even during the hot season, and maintaining constant vigilance against predators such as hyenas, leopards, and jackals .
Perhaps their most striking characteristic is exceptional endurance and agility. These horses navigate steep cliffs and rugged terrain with remarkable ease—a skill honed by generations of evading predators and accessing scarce resources . This agility makes them valuable genetic reservoirs for equine conservation and potential breeding programs.
Conservation: A Story of Struggle and Hope
The survival of the Kundudo horses has been a precarious journey, marked by dramatic population fluctuations and determined conservation efforts.
Rediscovery and Initial Alarm
Rediscovered at the beginning of the 21st century, the horses became the focus of international attention when a team led by Ethiopian researcher Effa Delesa Kefena explored the ecozones of Ethiopian horses . On January 3, 2008, researchers found a single mare, approximately 11 years old, with hooves that had never been groomed and showing no signs of domestication. They nicknamed her “Basra” and took a DNA sample .
The situation was dire. By October 2010, researchers counted only 18 horses in the mountain area . By 2013, a survey by the Ethiopian Biodiversity Institute found just 11 horses remaining, leading to a classification of “critically endangered” . Some sources even suggested the breed was “potentially extinct,” with the 2013 population considered too low to ensure sustainability .
Threats to Survival
The horses face numerous threats, including:
Habitat degradation due to overgrazing, agricultural expansion, and deforestation
Climate change altering rainfall patterns and water availability
Capture and domestication by local farmers, who occasionally tame and sell the docile colts
Limited genetic diversity due to the small population and consanguinity
Lack of formal protection and limited awareness about their ecological value
Conservation Efforts
Recognizing the urgency, various organizations and government agencies have initiated conservation programs. Since 2008, six Italian and Italo-British ecological missions have worked to save the herd and offer local communities economic alternatives to activities that damage the area.
The Ethiopian Environment Protection Agency, the Oromia Tourism Commissioner, and the Addis Ababa office of the UNEP have all been involved in monitoring and supporting these efforts. Local interest groups like the Addis Ababa-based GAG have worked to preserve the Kundudo range and promote the Gursum area.
The Ethiopian Biodiversity Institute has implemented conservation procedures, including the freezing of stallion semen to preserve genetic material for future breeding possibilities.
Signs of Recovery
These efforts appear to be bearing fruit. According to recent data from the Oromia Culture and Tourism Bureau, the population of wild horses living in the forest and slopes of Kundudo has now reached approximately 50 individuals . The Wikipedia article on Kundudo horses also reports that by 2022, due to improved awareness, the horses prospered, with a total of 30 feral horses protected by guards on the mountain’s top . The number is expected to continue rising if protection measures are maintained.
Beyond the Horses: Ecological and Cultural Riches
Kundudo’s significance extends beyond its equine inhabitants. The mountain and its surrounding forests harbor a unique wealth of wildlife, including birds of prey, other bird species, mongooses, and monkeys . This biodiversity makes the mountain one of the significant attraction areas in the zone.
The region also holds deep cultural importance. Ancient rock paintings discovered in caves during the 2008 expeditions raise hopes for future tourism development . A shrine and a uniquely designed mosque named after Sheikh Adem Goba stand near the mountain, adding to its cultural tapestry .
A Vision for the Future
Plans are underway to transform the area into an Oromia State Park, recognizing its unique natural and cultural heritage . Conservationists envision developing the site as the endpoint of a tourist route named “the Extended East Route,” linking Harar, the Awash National Park, the Kuni-Muktar Mountain Nyala Sanctuary, and other destinations of cultural, nature, and historic interest in eastern Ethiopia .
Eco-tourism presents a promising avenue for sustainable conservation, allowing local communities to benefit economically while safeguarding their environment. When communities see tangible benefits from preserving these horses, they become active participants in protecting this natural heritage.
Conclusion
The Kundudo mountains and their wild horses represent an extraordinary chapter in Ethiopia’s natural and cultural history. These resilient creatures, descendants of horses that may have carried warriors into battle five centuries ago, continue to roam the high plateau, adapting, surviving, and inspiring all who learn of their story.
Their journey from near-extinction to gradual recovery mirrors the broader challenges of conservation in a rapidly changing world. As guardians of Hararge’s ecological integrity, these horses deserve recognition and protection. By valuing and conserving the Kundudo wild horses, Ethiopia can preserve an extraordinary piece of its natural heritage, ensuring that generations to come will continue to marvel at these majestic creatures roaming freely in the rugged landscapes of Kundudo.
The Kundudo horses stand as living symbols of resilience, adaptation, and the profound connection between culture, history, and nature in the Oromia region. Their survival depends on continued conservation efforts, community engagement, and recognition of their unique value to Ethiopia’s natural heritage.
A historic celebration unfolds as Oromo women gather in their cultural attire to honor International Women’s Day, marking a moment that will be recorded in the annals of the struggle.
GULLALLEE, OROMIA — In a powerful display of cultural pride and unwavering determination, Oromo women gathered at the ABO Main Headquarters in Gullallee to celebrate International Women’s Day, adorning themselves in traditional attire that spoke to both their heritage and their resilience.
The celebration was not merely a commemoration—it was a declaration. Dressed in the vibrant colors and intricate patterns of Oromo cultural clothing, the women who gathered represented the heart of the Oromo liberation struggle. Their beauty, both external and internal, reflected the dignity of a people who have refused to be erased.
Beauty as Resistance
In the context of Oromo history, the act of gathering in cultural dress carries profound meaning. For generations, Oromo identity was suppressed, their language marginalized, their traditions denigrated. To stand today, openly and proudly wearing the clothing of their ancestors, is itself an act of resistance.
The women who filled the ABO headquarters in Gullallee demonstrated that the struggle for Oromo liberation is not only fought in the forest or through political organizing—it is also fought through the preservation and celebration of culture. Every traditional garment worn, every Oromo song sung, every dance performed strengthens the cultural foundation upon which the political struggle rests.
A Celebration Rooted in Tradition
The International Women’s Day celebration at the ABO headquarters was distinctively Oromo. While the world marks March 8 as a day to recognize women’s achievements and advocate for gender equality, the women of Gullallee infused the global observance with their own cultural particularity.
They came carrying not only the aspirations of women everywhere but the specific hopes of Oromo women—hopes for a liberated Oromia where their children can grow up speaking Afaan Oromo without shame, where their daughters can wear traditional clothing without fear, where their voices will be heard in the councils of the nation they are building.
A Day Recorded in History
According to organizers, this celebration at the ABO Main Headquarters in Gullallee has been recorded as a unique chapter in the history of the struggle. It will be remembered not only as an International Women’s Day event but as a moment when Oromo women collectively demonstrated their centrality to the liberation movement.
The gathering sent a clear message: the struggle for Oromia’s freedom cannot succeed without the full participation of its women, and those women are ready, willing, and determined to play their part.
Women at the Heart of the Struggle
The celebration in Gullallee reflects a broader recognition within the Oromo liberation movement of women’s indispensable role. From the ancient Siinqee institution—a traditional women’s system of mutual protection and conflict resolution—to the Qarree movement of young women activists today, Oromo women have always been at the forefront of resistance.
Yet their contributions have too often been overlooked in historical accounts. Events like this International Women’s Day celebration serve as correctives—public acknowledgments that the struggle could not continue without the women who fight, organize, endure, and sacrifice alongside their male counterparts.
Looking Forward
As the women of Gullallee dispersed after their celebration, they carried with them more than memories of a pleasant gathering. They carried renewed commitment to the cause, strengthened bonds with one another, and the knowledge that their participation is not merely welcomed but essential.
The celebration at the ABO headquarters will indeed be recorded in history—not as an isolated event but as part of a continuum of Oromo women’s resistance that stretches back generations and will continue until Oromia is free.
The Oromo women who gathered at ABO Main Headquarters in Gullallee on International Women’s Day 2026 have added their names to the long roll of heroines who have sustained the Oromo struggle. Their beauty, their strength, and their determination will not be forgotten.
The power of art in times of struggle is immeasurable. It sustains the weary, emboldens the fearful, and etches the faces of heroes into the collective memory of a people. Artist Ilfinash Qannoo embodies this truth.
Just as her voice has supported the national struggle for decades, this image of her now reveals something profound: she has become a lasting legacy and a source of inspiration for today’s generation. She is a symbol of resilience and a heroic figure of unwavering determination.
The Voice That Never Weakened
For years, Ilfinash Qannoo’s voice has been inseparable from the Oromo struggle. Through periods of intense repression, through moments of hope and despair, through the long, grinding years when liberation seemed impossibly distant—her songs have been there.
Her music has not been mere entertainment. It has been sustenance for fighters in the forest, comfort for mothers who lost sons, encouragement for students risking imprisonment, and a thread connecting the diaspora to the homeland. When words failed, when hope flickered, when the cause seemed lost, her voice reminded Oromos why they fight and what they fight for.
This is the power of the artist in a liberation struggle: to articulate what cannot be said in political statements, to reach what cannot be touched by organizational structures, to heal what weapons cannot protect.
The Face That Speaks to Youth
In this photograph, something additional is visible. On the faces of the young people surrounding Ilfinash Qannoo, one reads a clear and undiminished determination. These are not casual admirers posing with a celebrity. These are youth who have learned from the history of those who came before and dedicated themselves to the hope of tomorrow.
Their expressions carry a vision—one that is clear, focused, and unshakeable. They represent a generation that refuses to accept the limitations imposed by oppression. They are the living proof that the struggle did not die with previous generations but was passed like a torch to hands ready to carry it forward.
The Symbol of Endurance
Ilfinash Qannoo has become more than an individual artist. She is now a symbol—a representation of what it means to endure, to persist, to remain faithful to a cause across decades. Her very presence in this photograph, surrounded by young people whose parents may not have been born when her career began, speaks to the continuity of the Oromo struggle.
She has witnessed phases of the movement that today’s youth only read about. She has sung through regimes that came and went, through victories and setbacks, through hope deferred and hope renewed. And still she sings. Still she stands. Still she inspires.
The Legacy Multiplies
What makes this image particularly powerful is the multiplication of legacy it captures. Ilfinash Qannoo’s voice and presence have inspired these young people. But they, in turn, will inspire others. The legacy does not end with her—it branches, grows, and reaches into futures she may never see.
This is the nature of true impact. Not to create followers but to create leaders. Not to build a monument but to plant seeds. Not to be remembered but to ensure that remembering becomes a living practice passed from generation to generation.
The Heroic Determination
Ilfinash Qannoo embodies a particular kind of heroism—not the heroism of the battlefield, though equally essential. Hers is the heroism of remaining creatively alive in conditions designed to crush the spirit. The heroism of continuing to produce beauty when ugliness surrounds. The heroism of giving voice to a people determined to be silenced.
This is gootittii jadbumma—heroic determination. It is the quality that refuses to accept defeat, that finds ways to express when expression is dangerous, that keeps creating even when creation seems futile. It is the quality that liberation movements cannot survive without.
A Vision for Tomorrow
On the faces of the young people in this photograph, we see the future of Oromia. They carry in their eyes the vision of a free homeland. They carry in their hearts the lessons taught by artists like Ilfinash Qannoo. They carry in their hands the responsibility to complete what previous generations began.
The struggle continues. The voice still sings. The faces still shine with determination. And in this image, captured in a single moment, the entire story of the Oromo people’s resilience is told: the elder who never gave up, the youth who will never surrender, and the unbreakable bond between them that ensures the struggle will outlast any oppression.
Ilfinash Qannoo’s legacy is not only in the songs she has sung but in the generations she has inspired. May her voice continue to sustain the struggle, and may the faces of today’s youth one day look back on this moment as the time they received the torch and carried it forward.
Advocacy for Oromia was established in 2010 with the purpose of enabling and empowering Oromo people by providing accurate and timely information that will help to make better choices to create the kind of future in which they wish to live.
It also provides information focus on the major issues facing us in the 21st century and it is going to try and bring a balanced approach with factual information that is positive and solution based.
The website has been in operation for the last nine years with the mission of promoting and advancing causes of Oromo people through advocacy, community education, information service, capacity building, awareness raising and promotion.
The website is also the official site of Advocacy for Oromia Association in Victoria Australia Inc., a non-profit organisation, registered under the Associations Incorporation Reform Act 2012 in Victoria as April 2014.
Our team already had considerable community development experience and expertise. Our various projects helped to develop our confidence and the capacity of our agency. Our team used every gained knowledge, skills and experiences as an opportunity to design and develop new approaches, to documenting progress, supporting positive employment outcomes, liaising with community stakeholders, and conduct evaluation.
Advocacy for Oromia is devoted to establishing Advocacy for Oromia organisation to close the gaps where we can stand for people who are disadvantaged and speaking out on their behalf in a way that represents the best interests of them. We are committed to supporting positive settlement and employment outcomes for Victoria’s Oromo community.
Advocacy for Oromia Office
Addresses:
39 Clow St,
Dandenong VIC 3175
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247-251 Flinders Lane
Melbourne VIC 3000
Activities Address
Springvale Neighbourhood House Inc
Address: 46-50 Queens Ave, Springvale VIC 3171
Postal Address:
P. O. Box 150
Noble Park, Vic 3174
With your support, we can continue to help community build a better future.
Advocacy for Oromia Mental Health Program
The aim of the program is to improving the mental health and well-being of Oromo community in Victoria. It aims to assist those experiencing, mental ill-health, their families and carers of all ages within this community to address the social determinants of mental health for Oromo community. It helps:
Identify and build protective factors,
Reduce stigma and discrimination
Build capacity for self-determination
Better understand mental wellbeing, mental ill-health and the impacts of trauma
The goal of the project is to increase mental health literacy of Oromo community that aims:
To assist people with mental health issues
To increase the capacity of mental health worker
To better understand mental wellbeing
To provide mental health education and information
To address the social and cultural causes of mental health issues
Advocacy for Oromia will organise information session, women performance, radio programs, culturally adopted conversations on Oromo Coffee Drinking ceremony, providing training for mental health guides and forum and producing educational materials on the selected groups and geographical area.
Human Rights Education Program
The Human Rights Education Program is a community based human rights program designed to develop an understanding of everyone’s common responsibility to make human rights a reality in each community.
Human rights can only be achieved through an informed and continued demand by people for their protection. Human rights education promotes values, beliefs and attitudes that encourage all individuals to uphold their own rights and those of others.
The aim of the program is to build an understanding and appreciation for human rights through learning about rights and learning through rights. We aimed at building a universal culture of human rights. Thus, we aimed:
To build an understanding and appreciation for human rights through learning about rights and learning through rights.
To build capacities and sharing good practice in the area of human rights education and training
To develop human rights education and training materials and resources
The goal of the project is to increase human rights literacy of Oromo community that aims:
To better understand human rights
To increase the capacity of human rights worker
To analyse situations in human rights terms
To provide human rights education and information
To develop solidarity
To strategize and implement appropriate responses to injustice.
The ultimate goal of education for human rights is empowerment, giving people the knowledge and skills to take control of their own lives and the decisions that affect them.
Human rights education constitutes an essential contribution to the long-term prevention of human rights abuses and represents an important investment in the endeavour to achieve a just society in which all human rights of all persons are valued and respected.
Advocacy for Oromia will organise information session, performance, radio programs, culturally adopted conversations on Oromo Coffee Drinking ceremony, providing training for Human Rights guides and forum and producing educational materials on the selected groups and geographical area.
Community Safety Program
The program aims to strengthen existing collaborations and identify opportunities for the development of partnerships aimed at community safety and crime prevention activities. This approach seeks to improve the individual and collective quality of life by addressing concerns regarding the wider physical and social environment. Importantly, community safety means addressing fear of crime and perceptions of safety as without this any actions to address the occurrence of crime and anti-social behaviour are of less value.
Advocacy for Oromia 