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.
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
=====================
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 