Category Archives: Daaniyaa
The Silence of the Press: Ethiopia’s Media Authority Suspends The Reporter Indefinitely
In a decision that rights advocates are calling a watershed moment for press freedom, the Ethiopian Media Authority has revoked the registration of one of the country’s most storied independent news brands — and the clock on its silence has no end date
By Daandii Ragabaa
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ADDIS ABABA — For more than two decades, The Reporter has been a fixture of Ethiopian public life — a bilingual newspaper that carried investigative reporting, analysis, and the kind of scrutiny that powerful institutions rarely welcome. Its Amharic edition, its English edition, and its digital platforms together formed one of the few remaining spaces where Ethiopian readers could encounter reporting not calibrated to official messaging.
That space, as of this week, has been declared closed.
The Ethiopian Media Authority announced that it has indefinitely suspended the registration certificate of The Reporter — encompassing the Amharic-language Reporter, the English-language The Reporter, and the Ethiopia Reporter digital platforms — effective from the 23rd of the month. The suspension has no stated end date. The institution has been barred from all printing and publishing activity.
A Decision in Full
The Media Authority grounded its decision in the powers granted to it under Proclamation No. 1238/2013, invoking a year of content monitoring that it says confirmed “repeated violations of the law and professional ethics.”
The violations cited are sweeping. The Authority accused the publication of disseminating content contrary to the country’s national interest; of fomenting confusion among the public by inflating political and economic issues; and of spreading distorted information that exerts a negative influence on foreign investment, tourism, and diplomacy. It further stated that the publication had persisted in offering unbalanced reporting that tarnished the country’s image.
According to the announcement, the Authority had previously engaged with the media outlet’s owners and editors, held discussions, and issued final warnings in an effort to secure corrections. But no improvement was observed in the content, it said — and so the suspension was imposed.
A Familiar Script, a Higher Stakes
The language of the decision will be familiar to anyone who has followed Ethiopia’s media landscape in recent years. The Authority has used similar formulations to justify the suspension of other outlets — most prominently Tigray TV, which was shut down indefinitely in the aftermath of the breakdown of the Pretoria Agreement. Earlier this month, the Authority also indefinitely suspended the registration of another independent publication, Addis Standard.
What distinguishes the suspension of The Reporter is not the language but the institution. The Reporter is not a partisan outlet or a niche platform. It is one of the oldest and most established independent newspapers in the country — a publication that has, over the years, trained generations of Ethiopian journalists, hosted debate, and maintained a reputation for professional rigor that even its critics acknowledge.
The closure of a newspaper is never merely the closure of an office. It is the closure of a habit of reading, of a community of writers, of a memory of what independent journalism in Ethiopia can look like.
“National Interest” and the Moving Line
The Authority’s invocation of “national interest” is the crux of the matter, and the source of deepest concern among press-freedom advocates.
The concept is not defined in the announcement. It does not need to be. In practice, “national interest” functions as a moving line — one whose location is determined by the regulator, in the moment, according to criteria it does not disclose. A report on a security operation may be said to endanger national interest. An analysis of economic policy may be said to foment confusion. An investigation into official misconduct may be said to tarnish the country’s image.
The problem with such a standard is not that it is applied too strictly. It is that it cannot be contested. There is no counter-argument the accused can offer against a criterion whose content is never specified. The Authority’s decision cites a year of monitoring, but the monitoring methodology, the specific articles found wanting, and the reasoning connecting them to the cited violations are not made public.
The result is a regulatory environment in which a newspaper can be shut down without ever knowing exactly which words condemned it — and in which every other publication is left to guess.
The Wider Context
The suspension of The Reporter did not happen in a vacuum. It follows a pattern that has accelerated in recent months.
In January, Haymanot Zeleke was appointed Director of the Ethiopian Media Authority — a figure with a long career inside Ethiopia’s state media apparatus, who had previously enumerated the categories of content she considered violations: obscenity, content harmful to youth, disrespect toward women, unverified sourcing. The board of the Authority is chaired by Redwan Hussein, who simultaneously serves as Director General of the National Intelligence and Security Service — an arrangement whose implications for press freedom are difficult to overstate.
In September, Tigray TV was suspended indefinitely and barred as a source. This month, Addis Standard was suspended. This week, The Reporter. The sequence is not random. It is a consolidation — a steady, methodical narrowing of the space in which independent journalism can operate.
Meanwhile, the country’s political and security situation remains fragile: the collapse of the Pretoria Agreement, renewed fighting in the north, a restive Oromia, and strained relations with Eritrea. In such moments, the temptation to treat information as a weapon to be controlled rather than a public good to be protected is at its strongest.
What the Newspaper Leaves Behind
The Reporter’s closure will not be felt immediately in the way a power outage or a road closure is felt. Its absence will accumulate slowly, in the stories that go unreported, the questions that go unasked, the readers who gradually forget that a newspaper once held the powerful to account.
But for the journalists who worked there, the end is immediate. Their bylines are suspended. Their investigations — some of them months or years in the making — are frozen. Their sources, who trusted them, are left exposed. And their colleagues at other publications are left with a single, inescapable question: am I next?
The Authority has framed its decision as a matter of law and professional ethics. The newspaper’s defenders frame it as a matter of survival — of an independent press in a country that has never fully allowed one to flourish. Both framings can be true at once. What cannot be disputed is that a newspaper that existed last week does not exist this week, and that the decision to end it was made by an institution whose chairman also runs the country’s intelligence service.
The Reporter’s presses have gone quiet. The question now is how long the silence will last — and who will be left to break it.
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The Ethiopian Media Authority’s decision was announced in an official statement. The Reporter has not issued a public response at the time of publication.
The Price of Truth: When Telling the Story Costs Everything
On the International Day to End Impunity, the UN chief sounds an alarm: journalists are being harassed, surveilled, sued, attacked, imprisoned — and sometimes killed — simply for doing their jobs
By Dhabessa Wakjira
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They gather the news in war zones and city halls, in courtrooms and courthouse squares. They ask the uncomfortable questions, chase the paper trail, and knock on the doors of the powerful. And increasingly, for doing exactly that, they pay a devastating price.
On Monday, as the world marked the International Day to End Impunity for Crimes against Journalists, United Nations Secretary-General António Guterres issued a blunt and urgent appeal: the world must protect media professionals so they can carry out their essential work safely.
“Journalists continue to pay an outrageous price for telling the truth,” Guterres said, noting that reporters are routinely harassed, surveilled, sued, physically attacked or imprisoned — and sometimes even tortured or killed — simply for doing their jobs.
“Nothing should impede journalists’ ability to do their work, which is fundamental to human rights, democracy and the rule of law,” he added.
A Global Pattern of Pressure
The Secretary-General’s warning reflects a reality familiar to press-freedom organizations around the world. From authoritarian capitals to established democracies, journalists face a growing arsenal of tools designed to silence them: surveillance software deployed against reporters’ phones, defamation lawsuits engineered to bankrupt newsrooms, arbitrary detention, and, in the worst cases, physical violence that goes unpunished.
The day itself — established by the UN General Assembly in 2013 — commemorates the 2013 assassination of two French journalists, Ghislaine Dupont and Claude Verlon, killed in Mali. More than a decade later, the core problem it was designed to confront persists: the vast majority of crimes against journalists go unpunished, emboldening those who would harm them.
Impunity, press-freedom advocates argue, is the engine of the crisis. When attacks on journalists go unprosecuted, the message sent is unmistakable: the truth-teller is fair game.
“Fundamental to Human Rights, Democracy and the Rule of Law”
Guterres’ statement places journalists at the center of the democratic project — not as a special-interest group, but as an essential infrastructure of free societies. A free press holds governments accountable, exposes corruption, and gives citizens the information they need to make decisions about their own lives. When journalists are intimidated into silence, it is not only their rights that are violated — it is the public’s right to know.
That principle has particular resonance in a year that has seen journalists detained in record numbers, newsrooms raided, and reporters targeted online with coordinated campaigns of harassment and disinformation. In conflict zones, press insignia have offered little protection; in peacetime, legal harassment has become a favored weapon of the powerful.
A Call to Action
The UN chief’s message on Monday was less a commemoration than a call to action. Protecting journalists, he suggested, requires more than rhetoric — it demands that governments investigate attacks, prosecute perpetrators, and safeguard the legal and physical safety of media workers.
For the journalists still working the beat — the ones filing from conflict lines, sitting through court hearings, and requesting records that someone would prefer stay buried — the stakes are personal. Every story filed is an act of persistence. Every byline, a small assertion that the truth matters.
On this International Day to End Impunity, the message from the UN’s highest office was clear: the price journalists pay for telling the truth is already too high — and the world has a duty to bring it down.
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This article was produced in recognition of the International Day to End Impunity for Crimes against Journalists, observed annually on November 2.
“The Worqitu We Saw at Moyale”: Oromo Identity, Boorana Women, and the Fire of Defiance
A viral message from the frontier of identity — celebrating the Boorana women who stand at the border of land and selfhood — has reignited a conversation about what it means to be Oromo, and who pays the price for defending it
By Daandii Ragabaa
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It begins with a declaration, and it ends with a blessing.
Across social media this week, an impassioned message written in Afaan Oromoo has been shared and reshared — a tribute to the Oromo spirit, to the fighters at Moyale, and above all to the women of Boorana who, in the words of the post, stand for their land and their identity.
“Every Oromo, if she/he is wounded for her/his Oromoness and defies the enemy in this way — even if we become a plaything for anyone’s mockery — behold, at Moyale we have seen many Worqitus ones who struggle for their border and their identity,” the message reads. “May their seed multiply, Abo.”
Then, a proverb, and a salute: “Sabni Hidhannoo qabu mataa gadii hin qabu” — a nation with a covenant holds its head high. “Baga kabachiiftan! Ammallee duratti!” — Congratulations! And forward, still forward! “Dubartii Boorana!!” — Boorana women!!
A Message from the Frontier
Moyale sits at the edge of things — a place where land, identity, and history press against one another. In the Oromo imagination, and particularly in Boorana memory, such places are not merely geography. They are archives. Every ridge and river carries the story of who belongs to the land and who has defended it.
The message’s reference to “the border” is therefore more than a line on a map. It is the boundary of belonging itself — the place where a people’s right to be who they are is tested.
And it is there, the message insists, that “golden ones” have been seen. The imagery is deliberate: gold in Oromo and Boorana oral tradition is not merely precious — it is enduring, tested by fire, and impossible to counterfeit. To call the women of Boorana “golden” is to say that their worth has been proven in the crucible.
“Dubartii Boorana” — The Women Who Carry the Nation
The exclamation that closes the message — Dubartii Boorana! — is both salute and summons. In Boorana society, women hold a distinct and honored place: custodians of tradition, keepers of the gadaa calendar’s moral memory, and, in moments of crisis, the ones who stiffen the spine of the community.
The message’s author understands this. By centering women in a tribute to resistance, the post quietly overturns the assumption that the story of struggle belongs only to men. It is the mothers, the daughters, the wives, and the sisters who transmit identity across generations — who teach a child what it means to be Oromo before any flag or border can.
“May their seed multiply” is thus not a casual blessing. It is a prayer for continuity — for the future itself.
The Weight of “Being a Plaything”
Perhaps the most striking line in the message is also its most painful: the acknowledgment that a people who fight for their identity may be mocked, dismissed, or made “a plaything” in the eyes of others.
It is a recognition born of experience. Oromo communities have long contended with marginalization, with the distortion of their history, and with the casual contempt of those who see identity assertion as inconvenient. The message does not deny this. Instead, it absorbs the mockery and answers it with dignity: even if we are mocked, behold what we have seen at Moyale.
There is an old strength in that posture — the strength of a people who have learned that dignity is not granted by others but claimed by oneself.
“A Nation with a Covenant Holds Its Head High”
The proverb at the heart of the message — Sabni Hidhannoo qabu mataa gadii hin qabu — is a key to understanding everything else.
Hidhannoo is covenant, bond, agreement — the sacred compact that binds a community to its values, its land, and its future. A nation with such a covenant, the proverb says, need never bow its head. It can look the world in the eye.
For the Oromo, that covenant is carried in the gadaa system, in the oral epics, in the shared memory of the Boorana and beyond. It is the reason the message can move so quickly from lament to triumph — from the wound to the blessing, from the mockery to the gold.
A Blessing That Travels
What makes this message remarkable is not only its content but its movement. Composed in Afaan Oromoo and shared across platforms, it travels from the specific — a place called Moyale, a people called Boorana — to the universal: the right of any people to defend who they are.
“Baga kabachiiftan! Ammallee duratti!” — Congratulations! Forward, still forward!
It is the language of a people who know that the struggle for identity is never finished, only renewed. And it is a reminder, as the message’s author clearly intends, that the “golden ones” are not only at Moyale. They are wherever an Oromo woman teaches her child the name of her people, wherever a community holds its head high, and wherever the covenant is remembered.
The seed, the blessing says, will multiply.
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The message referenced in this feature was widely shared in Afaan Oromoo on social media. This article honors the sentiment expressed in that message and the communities it celebrates.
“The Camp That Would Not Be Silenced”: Naomi Waqo and the Oromo Question in Kenya’s Parliament
At a dusty camp called Odha, displaced Oromo families found their voice echoed in Kenya’s National Assembly — and the woman carrying it, MP Naomi Jillo Waqo, has become a symbol of a community’s refusal to be forgotten
By Dhabessa Wakjira
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MOYALE, Kenya — The camp sits at the edge of Moyale, where the red earth of northern Kenya meets the borderlands that have carried Oromo memory for generations. It is called Odha — the camp of the displaced, the settlement of those who have lost homes, livestock, and the quiet certainty of belonging.
This week, a message circulating in Afaan Oromoo paid tribute to the families of that camp, and to the woman who has carried their cause into the chambers of power.
“Addee Naomi Jillo Waqo,” the message begins — using the Oromo honorific Addee, a term of respect for a distinguished woman. “She is the representative of the women of Marsabit and a Member of the Parliament of Kenya.”
The message goes on to salute “the Oromo people who have been displaced from their land and their property, scattered into the camp called Odha in Moyale, Kenya” — and to praise the woman who, in its words, “encouraged this people” when they were at their lowest.
It closes with a call that is as much a demand as a benediction: “The sons of Oromo who are Members of the Kenyan Parliament, and the administrators who sit at various levels, must be thanked and recognized.”
Who Is Naomi Jillo Waqo?
Naomi Jillo Waqo is a Kenyan politician who has represented the women of Marsabit County in the National Assembly, a vast and arid county in Kenya’s north that borders Ethiopia. Marsabit is a place of extraordinary diversity — home to Borana Oromo, Gabra, Rendille, Burji, Turkana, and other communities — and extraordinary pressure. Drought, resource competition, and cross-border insecurity have shaped its politics for decades.
For the Oromo of northern Kenya, representation in Nairobi is not a luxury. It is a lifeline. The Oromo of Marsabit and Moyale are a cross-border community, tied by language, kinship, and custom to the Oromo of Ethiopia, but citizens of Kenya. Their grievances — displacement, marginalization, contested land, and the slow violence of neglect — are routinely spoken in the language of security rather than rights.
The message’s tribute to Waqo is a recognition that she has chosen a different language. At a time when displaced Oromo families were confronting the loss of land and livelihood, she is described as having stood with them — visiting the camps, amplifying their voices, and insisting in Parliament that their suffering be named.
Odha: The Camp as a Political Fact
The reference to Odha is the heart of the message. Camps of displacement are often treated as temporary inconveniences — a humanitarian problem to be managed, not a political reality to be confronted. The Oromo families in Odha, according to the message, are not merely sheltering. They are waiting for justice.
Displacement in the Moyale borderlands is a familiar and painful pattern. Communities have long described being pushed from ancestral land by conflict, by administrative decisions, and by the quiet encroachment of more powerful interests. When families are forced into camps, they lose more than shelter. They lose grazing routes, burial grounds, and the social fabric that holds a pastoralist community together.
The message’s author understands this. To name the camp is to name the crime. To praise the MP who visited it is to insist that displacement is not a private misfortune but a public responsibility.
The Call to Kenya’s Oromo Leaders
The message’s closing line is pointed. It calls on Oromo members of Kenya’s Parliament and administrators at “various levels” to be recognized — and by implication, to be accountable.
It is a reminder that representation is not measured only in seats held but in service rendered. The Oromo of Kenya have produced legislators, county officials, and civil servants. The question the message implicitly poses is whether those leaders have used their positions to defend the most vulnerable among their people — or whether they have been content to enjoy the fruits of office while the camps fill.
The tribute to Naomi Waqo is thus also a standard against which others will be measured. Here is what it looks like, the message says, when a representative remembers the people who sent her.
A Borderland People, a Cross-Border Struggle
Moyale is a town split by an international border, but the Oromo who live on both sides share a single identity. The hashtags that accompany the message — #Moyale, #Borana, #Oromia, #Kenya, #NaomiWaqo — map a geography that no border can divide.
That geography has become increasingly contested. The Horn of Africa is in flux: Ethiopia is navigating conflict in Tigray and unrest in Oromia; Kenya is managing drought, insecurity, and a restive northern frontier; and the Oromo cross-border community sits at the intersection of all of it.
In such a moment, the message suggests, the Oromo must count on one another. The women of Marsabit, the families of Odha, the parliamentarians in Nairobi, and the administrators in the counties — all are part of a single chain of responsibility. When one link holds, the whole chain is strengthened.
The Meaning of Addee
The word Addee is not a title one can claim. It is granted by a community to a woman who has earned it — through wisdom, through service, through presence in moments of need. To call Naomi Waqo Addee is to say that she has been tested and found worthy.
The message that bears her name is, at its core, an act of remembrance. It remembers the displaced. It remembers the camp. It remembers the woman who came to the camp and did not look away.
“May the sons of Oromo who are Members of the Kenyan Parliament, and the administrators who sit at various levels, be thanked and recognized,” the message concludes.
But the deeper prayer is simpler: may there be more like her.
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This feature honors the displaced Oromo families of the Moyale borderlands and the representatives who stand with them.
Irreecha at Hora Liqqimee: A Peaceful Thanksgiving in Debre Libanos
By Daandii Ragabaa
DEBRE LIBANOS, Central Oromia — In the heart of North Shewa, where the highlands roll toward the gorge of the Blue Nile and the ancient monastery of Debre Libanos has stood for over seven centuries, the Oromo community gathered at Hora Liqqimee to celebrate Irreecha. The festival, marking the end of the dark rainy season and the arrival of Birraa, was observed peacefully—a quiet but meaningful testament to the enduring power of Oromo tradition in a region known more for its religious history than for its Irreecha celebrations.
A Festival of Gratitude in a Sacred Landscape
Irreecha is, at its core, an act of thanksgiving. The Oromo people gather at water sources—malkaa—to offer gratitude to Waaqa for peace, health, a good harvest, and the well-being of family and livestock, while praying for blessings in the year to come . At Hora Liqqimee, participants carried fresh green grass and yellow keelloo flowers to the water’s edge, dipping them into the lake and sprinkling the water as a blessing—a ritual of renewal that connects the present generation to an unbroken chain of practice stretching back centuries .
The location itself carries layers of meaning. Debre Libanos is home to one of Ethiopia’s most significant Orthodox monasteries, founded in 1284 by Saint Tekle Haymanot, and the surrounding area is steeped in religious history . Yet the celebration of Irreecha here speaks to a different dimension of Oromo spiritual life—one rooted in the indigenous relationship between the people, the land, and the Creator. The peaceful coexistence of these traditions in the same landscape is itself a quiet statement about the pluralism that has long characterized Oromo society.
The Presence of Gadaa and Elders
The celebration was honored by the presence of Abbootii Gadaa and Haadholii Siinqee, whose participation lends the festival its institutional and spiritual authority. In Oromo tradition, Irreecha is not merely a cultural event but a ritual embedded within the Gadaa system—the indigenous democratic order recognized by UNESCO as Intangible Cultural Heritage . The elders’ presence at the water’s edge is a living expression of a system that has regulated Oromo social, political, and spiritual life for generations.
The Abbaa Malkaa (father of the river) and the Abbaa Gadaa play central roles in the blessing that precedes the communal thanksgiving. Traditionally, the site is cleansed and blessed before the gathered community is blessed in turn. At Hora Liqqimee, this sequence unfolded as it has for countless seasons, grounding the celebration in a framework of legitimacy that no external authority can confer.
A Call for Peace and Reconciliation
Irreecha is not only about gratitude for the past; it is also about repairing relationships for the future. Traditional teachings emphasize that people should reconcile before entering the sacred gathering. Conflict, resentment, and division have no place at the water’s edge. The elders ask the gathered crowd: Are you at peace with each other? Are you at peace with the Creator? Only when the community affirms its peace does the thanksgiving officially begin.
The peaceful conduct of the celebration at Hora Liqqimee—described simply as having been held “in peace”—carries its own weight. In a region and a country where tensions often run high, the ability of a community to gather, give thanks, and disperse without incident is not a small achievement. It is a testament to the discipline and mutual respect that Irreecha cultivates among its participants.
A Tradition That Lives Beyond the Major Gatherings
While the largest Irreecha celebrations draw millions to Hora Finfinnee in Addis Ababa and Hora Arsadi in Bishoftu, the festival’s meaning is not diluted in smaller settings. Indeed, it is in places like Debre Libanos, at lakes like Hora Liqqimee, that the tradition remains most intimately connected to the land and the local community. The core elements are the same: the gathering at water, the carrying of fresh grass and flowers, the prayers of gratitude, and the reaffirmation of peace.
This year’s celebration at Hora Liqqimee may not have made headlines. But for the people who gathered there—elders in traditional attire, youth carrying keelloo, families reunited after the hardships of the rainy season—it was Irreecha in its fullest sense: a day of thanksgiving, a moment of community, and a reaffirmation of a identity that has survived and thrived for centuries.
Baga Irreecha Hora Liqqimee nagaan geenye!
Arming the Party: The Perils of Military Training for Civilian Political Leadership in Ethiopia
An Analysis of Kader Nour Elmi’s Statement on Prosperity Party Cadre Training
By ONA Staff Reporter
In fragile democracies and transitional states, the line between the ruling party and the state apparatus is often perilously thin. When that line is crossed—particularly concerning the national armed forces—the implications for democratic governance, human rights, and long-term stability are profound.
A recent statement by Kader Nour Elmi, a member of the Freedom and Equality Party (Somali Region), raises critical alarm bells regarding the provision of military and security-related training to the civilian leadership of Ethiopia’s ruling Prosperity Party (PP). Elmi’s analysis touches upon one of the most sensitive fault lines in contemporary Ethiopian politics: the creeping militarization of partisan politics and the potential weaponization of state security institutions.
The Two Faces of Leadership Training
Elmi’s statement offers a nuanced starting point. On the surface, providing security and strategic training to civilian leaders is not inherently sinister. In an increasingly volatile geopolitical environment—characterized by asymmetric warfare, cyber threats, and complex regional conflicts—leaders with a robust understanding of national security can, theoretically, govern more effectively. Capacity building can improve strategic foresight and institutional resilience.
However, the context in which this training occurs is everything. Elmi rightly notes that establishing a “special relationship” between a ruling party and the national armed forces invites legitimate and grave concerns. When the Prosperity Party—a partisan political entity—receives specialized military or security training, it risks blurring the fundamental distinction between the party and the state.
In a true democratic system, the military belongs to the republic, not to the party in power. The Ethiopian National Defense Force (ENDF) and other security apparatuses are constitutionally mandated to protect the sovereignty of the state and the rights of all citizens, irrespective of their political affiliations. When the ruling party co-opts military institutions for its own cadre development, it sends a dangerous message: that the military exists to protect the party’s grip on power, rather than the nation’s constitutional order.
The Threat to Military Neutrality and Political Equality
Elmi’s most potent point is the concern over military neutrality and political equality. Ethiopia is a deeply diverse nation, home to numerous political parties and armed resistance movements, particularly in Oromia and Amhara. If the armed forces are perceived as being ideologically aligned with, or trained to protect, the Prosperity Party, the military loses its legitimacy as a neutral arbiter and national unifier.
This dynamic breeds profound inequality. If PP leaders are trained in security and military strategy while opposition parties are left out, it creates a two-tiered political system. The ruling party becomes a quasi-military entity, while opposition groups are relegated to a position of structural vulnerability. In such an environment, democratic competition ceases to be a battle of ideas and becomes a contest of force. The military and security services, rather than being the shield of the people, become the sword of the incumbent.
The Need for Transparency and Accountability
Elmi’s call for transparency is not just a procedural demand; it is a constitutional necessity. The purpose, content, funding, and legal framework of providing military training to civilian party leaders must be subjected to rigorous public scrutiny.
Who is funding this training? Is it being conducted by the Ministry of Defense, the National Intelligence and Security Service (NISS), or foreign entities? What is the curriculum? Are state resources—which are funded by the taxes of all Ethiopians, including those who oppose the Prosperity Party—being diverted to strengthen a partisan political machine?
Without transparent legal frameworks and accountability mechanisms, these training programs risk becoming shadowy operations that entrench authoritarianism. The use of state security institutions to advance partisan interests is a hallmark of state capture—a phenomenon that undermines the rule of law and erodes public trust in the very institutions meant to protect them.
A Warning from the Opposition
Kader Nour Elmi’s statement, coming from a member of an opposition party in the Somali region—an area that has experienced its own complex dynamics of regional security and political marginalization—serves as a timely warning. It highlights that the concerns over the Prosperity Party’s relationship with the military are not isolated to one region or one ethnic group; they are a national dilemma.
The Prosperity Party came to power promising a new era of unity and prosperity. However, when the ruling party engages in military-style training for its cadres, it signals a reliance on security apparatuses to maintain control, rather than on democratic consensus and the ballot box. This approach mirrors the tactics of previous authoritarian regimes, where the military was used to suppress dissent and ensure the survival of the ruling elite.
Conclusion: Preserving the Democratic Boundary
The integrity of Ethiopia’s democratic transition hinges on the strict separation of party and state. Elmi’s analysis is a vital contribution to the national discourse, reminding us that national security institutions must remain firmly under the control of constitutional law, not the partisan whims of a ruling party.
If the Prosperity Party truly believes in democracy, it must ensure that its leadership training is fully transparent, legally sanctioned, and devoid of any military or security dimensions that violate the principle of civilian oversight and military neutrality.
As Elmi concludes, preserving this distinction is essential. It is the only way to safeguard democracy, strengthen the rule of law, and ensure that the national armed forces serve the people of Ethiopia, rather than the narrow political interests of those in power.
Irreecha at Malkaa Meexxii: A Community’s Thanksgiving in West Oromia
By Daandii Ragabaa
DAMBI DOLLO, West Oromia — The waters of Malkaa Meexxii ran clear and the grass was fresh as the Oromo community of Sayyo District gathered to celebrate Irreecha, the annual thanksgiving festival that marks the transition from the dark rainy season of Ganna into the light and renewal of Birraa. The celebration, held in Dambi Dollo, brought together Gadaa leaders, women elders, youth, and the wider community in a display of unity and gratitude that echoed traditions stretching back generations .
A Festival of Gratitude and Renewal
Irreecha is, at its core, a profound act of thanksgiving. The Oromo people gather at Malkaa—places associated with water—to give thanks to Waaqa (God) for life, rain, peace, and the blessings of the year that has passed, while praying for prosperity and a good season ahead . For the community of Sayyo, the celebration at Malkaa Meexxii was a moment to mark the end of the hardships of the rainy season and to welcome the renewal that Birraa brings.
The significance of the season is embedded in Oromo cosmology. The rainy months of June to September are understood as a time of difficulty—swollen rivers, floods, and the separation of families unable to travel. Irreecha marks the passage out of that darkness. As participants gather at the water’s edge, carrying fresh green grass and flowers, they enact a ritual of gratitude for survival and hope for what lies ahead.
The Presence of Gadaa and Elders
The celebration at Malkaa Meexxii was honored by the presence of the Abbootii Gadaa (Gadaa leaders) and Haadholii Siinqee (women elders), whose participation lends the festival its spiritual and institutional authority . In Oromo tradition, the Gadaa system provides the framework within which Irreecha is celebrated—an indigenous democratic order that regulates political, economic, social, and religious life . The elders’ presence at the river is not ceremonial decoration; it is the living expression of a system that has transmitted knowledge, values, and social organization across generations.
The Abbaa Malkaa (father of the river) and the Abbaa Gadaa play central roles in the blessing that precedes the communal thanksgiving. Traditionally, the Haati Malkaa (mother of the river) first cleanses the site, and the Abbaa Malkaa then blesses it, followed by the Abbaa Gadaa, before the gathered community is blessed in turn . At Malkaa Meexxii, this sequence unfolded as it has for countless seasons, connecting the present celebration to an unbroken chain of practice.
Youth and the Energy of Continuity
The festival was not only a gathering of elders. The youth were present in force, their energy a reminder that Irreecha is a living tradition, not a relic. The Qeerroo generation—young Oromo who have grown up in the wake of the cultural and political awakening of recent decades—brought their own vitality to the celebration. Their participation ensures that the knowledge and values embedded in Irreecha will be carried forward, even as each generation brings its own experiences and aspirations to the riverbank .
This intergenerational dimension is central to Irreecha’s enduring power. The festival is described as a meeting place between generations, where memory and modern life stand together. Elders pass on the values of peace, reconciliation, and respect for creation, while the young bring the energy that keeps the tradition alive.
A Call for Peace and Reconciliation
Irreecha is not only about gratitude for the past; it is also about repairing relationships for the future. Traditional teachings emphasize that people should reconcile before entering the sacred gathering. Conflict, insults, and resentment have no place at the water’s edge. The elders ask the gathered crowd: Are you at peace with each other? Are you at peace with the Creator? Are you at peace with creation? Only when the community affirms its peace does the thanksgiving officially begin .
At Malkaa Meexxii, this spirit of reconciliation was palpable. The festival brought together people from across the district, transcending the divisions that ordinary life can impose. For a day, the community was united in gratitude and hope—a reminder of what Irreecha at its best can achieve.
A Tradition That Lives
The celebration at Malkaa Meexxii is one of countless Irreecha gatherings taking place across Oromia and among the Oromo diaspora this season. While the largest celebrations draw millions to Hora Finfinnee in Addis Ababa and Hora Arsadi in Bishoftu, the festival’s meaning is not diluted in smaller settings. Indeed, it is in places like Dambi Dollo, at rivers like Malkaa Meexxii, that the tradition remains most intimately connected to the land and the community .
As the sun set on the celebration and families returned to their homes, the prayers offered at the water’s edge carried forward an ancient message: be grateful for what has been received, seek peace and reconciliation, respect creation, and face the future with hope. For the people of Sayyo, Irreecha at Malkaa Meexxii was not merely a festival. It was an affirmation of who they are—a nation that gives thanks, that remembers, and that endures.
Baga Irreecha Malkaa Meexxiitiin nu gahe!
A Family’s Gratitude and a Call for Dignity: The Ahmad Gishee Memorial Statement
By Dhabessa Wakjira
October 31, 2026 — In a statement released to the media, the family of the late Ahmad Gishee has expressed profound gratitude to friends, relatives, and the wider Oromo community for their support during a time of inconsolable grief, while also issuing a powerful call for responsible communication and respect for the family’s privacy.
The statement, titled “A Statement of Gratitude, Honour for a Life Lived, and a Pillar for the Legacy of Ahmad Gishee,” opens with a direct address to Ahmad’s friends, loved ones, relatives, and the broader Oromo public. “In this time of heart-breaking grief caused by Ahmad’s passing, we say thank you and we are grateful for standing with us, for encouraging us, and for sharing our pain,” the family writes.
Gratitude for a Community’s Support
The family’s gratitude is expansive and specific. They thank those who, “without hesitating,” stood by Ahmad when he needed help. They acknowledge those who traveled from far distances to attend his funeral and those who demonstrated that Ahmad was “a son of the broader Oromo nation” to the family and the district. “You have been a strong force for us to bear this heavy grief,” the statement reads. “Your honour is immense, immense!”
The family also requests that the community remember Ahmad in their prayers and supplications, and that they seek forgiveness and reconciliation on his behalf.
A Life Lived Without Regret
The statement offers a portrait of Ahmad as a man who lived his life fully and on his own terms. “The time Ahmad lived on this earth was very short. But he had no regret about the way and manner in which he lived his life,” the family writes. Before departing for the afterlife, Ahmad left a message for those he left behind: he had lived his life as he wished, he would not change anything, and he had done and seen much of what he wanted to do and see in his life.
When the time of death came to him, the family says, Ahmad confirmed to them that he was prepared. “This has given us some peace of mind,” they write. “The sorrow that struck us with his heart-breaking departure has shaken us. The wound created in our hearts has pained us.”
A Legacy of Achievement and Connection
In his short life, Ahmad achieved much and cultivated many friendships. He was a man who “embraced the Oromo nation broadly” and “sacrificed to the extent of his capacity.” His death revealed just how beloved and respected he was. The memorials and tributes being prepared for him, the family says, demonstrate not only that he was a strong man but that he was “a son of the entire Oromo nation.”
The family finds great comfort in knowing that Ahmad’s life held profound meaning for many people. They have resolved to honour his life, to respect the legacy he left behind, and to work to complete the tasks he had undertaken. “His work is foundational,” they write, “and this legacy must be passed from generation to generation.”
A Warning Against Misinformation
The statement takes a serious turn as the family addresses a troubling development: the spread of unverified information and harmful rumors about Ahmad’s life and death. “As people who have a responsibility to look after their community, we are seeing many who are opening empty spaces among these people,” the family writes. “Unverified, harmful, and baseless news is spreading without limit in the community’s social circles.”
Some of this information, the family says, has touched the emotions of family, relatives, and loved ones, and some displays a lack of respect for the family and for Ahmad himself. “This is putting pressure on the family,” they state. “We strongly and respectfully ask that unverified information, false news, or various speculations—especially on social media—not be spread.”
At this time, the family says, what helps Ahmad and them is to seek forgiveness for him and to offer encouragement to the living. “Give thought and human respect to him and his family. Refrain from raising irrelevant matters, spreading, publishing, and reporting things that have no basis—and prevent others from doing so!”
A Call for Responsibility
The family uses the statement to reflect on the power of words and actions. “We have great respect for those who, in this role, recognize that their words and actions have caused harm, and who apologize sincerely,” they write. “When we speak about the lives of other people, we want to remind each other that it is a great responsibility to weigh the good and the harm it carries.”
The way we live together and our relationships as a community must be characterized by compassion, respect, and self-restraint, the family argues. “Words create wounds that do not heal easily; actions bring harm that later requires correction. A painful experience must serve as a lesson for others, helping them understand emotions, and enabling them to cultivate kindness and humanity within themselves. We believe Ahmad’s passing must be a strong force for this.”
Honouring Ahmad’s Legacy
The family acknowledges the many people, both within the country and abroad, who have expressed their desire to honour Ahmad’s life and sacrifice together. “We are grateful for this! Your thoughts are greatly encouraging us. We have great gratitude for your efforts.”
The family extends an open invitation for support and participation in preserving Ahmad’s legacy. “Together, we believe we can pass on the life he lived and the principles he believed in to future generations. For the positive change he brought to the lives of many people, we have great hope that we can follow in his footsteps and honour him in a meaningful way.”
A memorial program for Ahmad will be organized in the near future, and a short-term committee is being established to coordinate it. Further information will be communicated promptly.
A Request for Privacy
In a pointed conclusion, the family states that it has not authorized the collection of any financial or other form of support at this time. “Until further information is communicated to you, we respectfully ask that you understand and respect the decision and direction the family has taken.”
The statement ends with renewed gratitude. “For the kindness, compassion, prayers, and support you have given us, we want to again express our great gratitude in Ahmad’s name. Your support has a meaning beyond words for our family. Thank you all once again.”
Maatii Ahmad Gishee (The Family of Ahmad Gishee)
October 31, 2026
This feature story is based on the family’s official statement. For further information about the memorial program, please await official communication from the family committee.
Lallaba Galataa fi Yaadannoo: Maatiin Ahmad Gishee Hawaasa Oromootti Dhaamsa Garaawaa Ergate
(Onkololeessa 31, Bara 2026) Aartii fi aadaa Oromoo keessatti, duuti nama jaallatamaa fi kabajamaa ta’e gadda cimaa hawaasa keessatti uuma. Ahmad Gishee—ilma saba Oromoo, jaalala fi kabajaa guddaa qabu—lubbuu dhabuun isaatiin maatiin isaa fi hawaasni bal’aan gadda onnee nama cabsu keessa jiraatu. Yeroo kana keessatti maatiin Ahmad Gishee lallaba galataa fi yaadannoo hawaasa Oromootti erganii jiran.
Galata Hawaasaaf
Lallabni maatii keessaa, duraan duraan, hiriyoota Ahmad, jaalalloo, darabootaa fi hawaasa bal’aa Oromootiif galata guddaa dhiyeesseera. “Gadda onnee nama cabsu yeroo keessa jiru kanatti, nu bira dhaabattanii, nu jajjabeessuu fi miidhama keenna nu waliin hirachuu keessaniif, ulfaadhaa, wayyamaa,” jedhanii maatiin ibsaniiru.
Maatiin Ahmad akka jedhetti, “Gargaarsinii fi ergaan gara-nyaattoo, tumsinii fi dhaamsi keessan madda obsaa nuu ta’ee jira; kanaafillee galata guddaa nu biraa qabdani.” Yeroo Ahmad gargaarsa barbaadetti, firaa fi hiriyyoon uduu hin hifatin isa bira dhaabbatanii jiran. “Haga inni darbellee, fageenna dheeraa irraa imaluun geegessaa isaa tolchitan. Ahmad ka saba bal’aa Oromoo ta’uu isaa maatii fi aanaa maratti argisiiftan. Gadda ulfaata kana akka obsinuuf humna jabaa nuu taatan. Ulfinni keessan dacha, dachaadha!”
Jireenya Gabaabduu Garuu Hiikkaa Guddaa Qabu
Ahmad jireenya isaa keessatti milkii hedduu arge, jaalalloo baay’ee horate. Ummata Oromoo bal’aan wal-baratee, waan haga humna isaa gumaachee lufe. “Yeroon Ahmad lafa tana irra jiraatee baay’ee gabaabduudha. Garuu inni haalaa fi akkaataa jiruu dabarse irraa gaabbii hin qabu,” jedhanii maatiin ibsaniiru.
Inni gara fuula akeraa deemuun duratti warra bira turaniif dhaamsa darbee jira. “Jireenna isaa akka fedhii isaatti jiraateera. Waan tokkollee jijjiiruu akka hin barbaanne, waan jiruu isa kessatti godhuu fi arguu fedhu hedduu isaa akka godhee fi arge dubbate. Hireen du’aa yoo isa geette, akka qophaa’aa ture nuuf mirkaneesseera. Kun haga tokko tasgabbii sammuu nuuf kennee jira.”
Dhaamsa Hawaasaaf: Oduu Soba irraa Of Qusachuu
Maatiin Ahmad hawaasa Oromootti dhaamsa guddaa erganii jiran—oduu dharaa fi soba miidiyaa hawaasaa irratti tamsa’aa jiru irraa of qusachuu. “Oduu dharaa, hamaa fi hasaassaa daangaa hin qabnetu marsaa hawaasummaa irratti tamsa’aa jira. Wanti gariin, maatii, firaa fi jaalalloo miira tuqaa jira. Kun ammoo maatii obsa dhooggaa jira.”
“Odeeffannoo ragaa hin qabne, oduu sobaa ykn tilmaama adda addaa, keessattuu miidiyaa hawaasaa irratti, akka hin tamsaafne cimsinee kabajaan isin gaafanna. Yeroo ammaa kanatti wanti Ahmadii fi nullee nu gargaaru, isaaf araarama kadhatuu; ka jiruuf ammoo jajjabinna kennuu callaadha. Isaa fi maatii isaatiillee, yaadaa, kabaja namoomaa kennaa. Ardha irraa kaasaatii, waan qabatama hin qabne, facaasuu, maxxansuu fi himuu irraa of qusadhaa—walillee ittisaa!”
Yaadannoo fi Dhaala
Maatiin Ahmad namoonni hedduun, biyya keessaa fi alaa, gadda callaa uduu hin taane; jireenya Ahmad waliin kabajuu fi gumaata isaa yaadachuuf qophii godhuu qabu jedhanii yaada nuun geettanii jirtan. “Kanaaf wayyamaa! Yaadni keessan, guddisee nu jajjabeessaa jira. Carraaqiiwwan keessan kanaaf galata guddaa isinif qabna.”
Nutis dhaala inni nuuf dhiisee darbe kana akka eeggamuuf waliin hojjechuu waan barbaanuuf, deeggarsa fi yaada, akkasumas hirmaannaa keessan garaa gutuun feena. “Waliin taanee, jireenya inni jiraate, duudhaalee inni itti amanee dhaabateef, dhaalootaaf dabarsuun waan aaga jennee amanna.”
Murtii Maatii: Deeggarsa Maallaqaa Hin Barbaadan
Maatiin Ahmad hubachiisuu barbaade, yeroo ammaa kana deeggarsa maallaqaa yookaan gargaarsa bifa biraa kamiyyuu akka walitti qabamu hayyama akka hin kennin. “Odeeffannoo dabalataa hanga isinitti himamutti, murtii fi ejjennoo maatiin qabate kana akka hubattan kabajaa guddaan isin gaafanna.”
Galata Xumuraa
“Gaarummaa, gara-laafina, kadhannaa fi deeggarsa nuuf gootaniif irra deebi’uun galata guddaa maqaa Ahmadiitiin isiiniif galchuu barbaanna. Deeggarsi keessan maatii keennaaf jechootaan ibsuu caalaa hiika guddaa qaba. Mara keessanuu ammallee irra deebinee galatoomaa isiniin jenna.”
Maatiin Ahmad Gishee, Onkololeessa 31, Bara 2026.
Maatii Ahmad Gishee — Lallaba galataa fi yaadannoo hawaasa Oromootti erganii jiran.
Ethiopia’s Leaders Trade Suits for Uniforms: A Wartime Cabinet in Training
By ONA Staff Reporter
ADDIS ABABA — In a striking image that has circulated widely across Ethiopian social media, Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed stands shoulder to shoulder with his cabinet members and senior officials, not in the dark suits of governance but in the olive-green fatigues of military trainees. The photographs, shared on the Prime Minister’s own social media pages on Saturday, October 31, 2026, reveal a government preparing for war—and framing that preparation as a strategic necessity.
A Cabinet in Uniform
Among those pictured in military training gear at the Hurso facility were Mufrihat Kamil, Speaker of the Federation Council; Dr. Fitsum Assefa, Minister of Finance; and Dr. Mekdes Daba, Minister of Health. They were not observing exercises from a distance. They were participating in them.
According to the Prime Minister’s statement, the officials are undergoing military training at Hurso, a site that has become synonymous with the government’s increasingly militarized approach to statecraft. The training, Abiy explained, is designed to help officials “properly understand and implement” the ideas contained in what he calls the “Great Strategy of Additive Civilization” (Ye Medemer Siltenie Talaku Strategy).
The “Additive Civilization” Doctrine
The strategy, as articulated by the Prime Minister, contains principles that read as much like a wartime manifesto as a governance blueprint: “ensuring national security at all times,” “building a strong country that cannot be bent by anyone or anything,” and “mobilizing the structure from bottom to top for a national purpose.”
Military science, Abiy wrote, “has no competitor in shaping the purpose and humanity of a person.” He described it as a discipline that makes people “physically, spiritually, morally, and in execution disciplined.” The knowledge, skills, and experience drawn “from military science and life,” he argued, are essential to implementing the strategy.
“Leaders of the Additive government are taking military training at the Hurso military training camp,” Abiy wrote. “Soldiers have targets; civilians have objectives. The goal of both is to register victory. By combining both disciplines, we will create a generation that hits the target and achieves the objective.”
The Context: A Region on Edge
The timing of the training is not incidental. It comes as the Ethiopian National Defense Force (ENDF) has moved closer to the border with Eritrea, amid mounting fears that the two countries—locked in a diplomatic freeze over accusations of supporting insurgents and a dispute over sea access—could be drawn into war. The two nations have severed diplomatic relations, and the threat of renewed conflict hangs over the Horn of Africa.
The training also comes as the government continues to consolidate its military posture. This week, during a visit to Russia, Prime Minister Abiy announced that Ethiopia had received Su-35 fighter jets—advanced aircraft that would make Ethiopia the first sub-Saharan African nation to operate them. The delivery represents a significant escalation in the country’s aerial capabilities.
The Prime Minister has repeatedly stated that strengthening Ethiopia’s military capacity across all sectors is among his objectives. The images of his cabinet in uniform are not merely symbolic; they are a signal that the government’s approach to governance has become inseparable from its approach to war.
A Government at War with Itself?
The photographs raise uncomfortable questions. A finance minister in fatigues, a health minister in combat gear—what does it mean for a government to train its civilian leadership for battle? The Prime Minister’s framing suggests a belief that military discipline is the antidote to the indiscipline of civilian governance, that the battlefield’s clarity of purpose should be brought to the messy work of running a state.
But critics may see something else: a government that has increasingly turned to military solutions for political problems. The training at Hurso, the procurement of advanced fighter jets, the escalating rhetoric—all of this unfolds against a backdrop of internal conflict, including renewed fighting with forces in northern Ethiopia and ongoing unrest in Oromia.
The government has not disclosed when the training began or how long it will last. What is clear is that the image of a cabinet in uniform is intended to convey a message: Ethiopia’s leadership is preparing for something. Whether that something is defense, deterrence, or the prosecution of war remains to be seen.
The Image That Speaks
In a region where symbols carry enormous weight, the photograph of Abiy and his officials in military fatigues is more than a social media post. It is a declaration of intent. The “Great Strategy of Additive Civilization” is being taught at a military camp, to a cabinet, in a country on the brink. The soldiers have targets; the civilians have objectives. And the Prime Minister has made clear that he expects both to hit them.
As Ethiopia navigates a precarious moment in its history, the sight of its leaders in uniform offers a glimpse of how they see the road ahead: not as a path of diplomacy and civilian governance, but as a campaign to be won.
Source: EBC (Ethiopian Broadcasting Corporation) and the Prime Minister’s official social media pages.
