Category Archives: Daaniyaa

The Irony of Faisal Roble’s Attack on Oromo Nationalism: A History of Somali Expansionism

By Asfaw Beyene

I was taken aback by recent comments from two prominent political commentators of Somali ethnicity, Farah Maalim and Faisal Roble, both associated with Nairobi’s political circles. My focus here is on the remarks made by Faisal Roble.

In an interview with a media outlet unfamiliar to me, Faisal Roble expressed concern about what he described as the growing number of “ultra-nationalists” among the Oromo. He claimed that these nationalists had become so numerous, indeed, “huge” in number, that the phenomenon posed a danger to Ethiopia.

He then asked why Oromo nationalists had become so radicalized, suggesting that the movement’s supposed extremism might be explained by its being relatively new and youthful. As evidence of what he called the “pervasive” nature of Oromo nationalism, he alleged that Oromo nationalists were making territorial claims extending as far as Mogadishu, Djibouti, Yemen, Kenya, and Eritrea.

By the time I finished listening to the interview, I found myself wondering whether Faisal Roble had confused Somali ultra-nationalists with Oromo nationalists. Nearly every characteristic he attributed to Oromo nationalism seemed far more applicable to the historical record of Somali expansionist nationalism.

His argument deserves careful examination.

The Contradictions in Faisal Roble’s Argument

First, the history of radical nationalism in the Horn of Africa cannot be discussed without examining Somali expansionism.  Somali nationalism has a long and complicated history. Its expansionist manifestations, particularly the ideology of Greater Somalia, contributed to regional wars, territorial disputes, and political instability. Somalia’s own experience with authoritarian rule, civil war, and state collapse demonstrates the destructive potential of nationalism when it becomes inseparable from territorial ambition and political exclusion.

It would be simplistic to attribute Somalia’s decades of instability entirely to nationalism. Nevertheless, the historical consequences of expansionist and pervasive Somali nationalism are too significant to ignore.

Second, Faisal Roble describes Oromo nationalism as a danger to Ethiopia.  This assertion raises a fundamental question: a danger to which Ethiopia?  If Oromo nationalism seeks equality, self-determination, political representation, and the protection of Oromo rights, it can be considered a danger only to a political order that refuses to recognize those rights.

A political movement demanding justice for a historically marginalized people should not automatically be characterized as extremist. The distinction between legitimate national aspirations and exclusionary ultra-nationalism is essential.

Third, Faisal portrays Oromo nationalism as a new and youthful phenomenon.

This reflects a troubling misunderstanding of Oromo history.  The historical roots of Oromo collective identity, political institutions, resistance, and struggles over sovereignty extend back centuries. The Oromo played a major role in the political transformations of the Horn of Africa during the sixteenth century, long before the emergence of the modern Ethiopian state.

Modern Oromo nationalism took shape through subsequent historical experiences, particularly the incorporation of Oromo territories into the expanding Ethiopian Empire during the nineteenth century.  To describe Oromo nationalism simply as a new movement is to overlook this long historical trajectory.

Fourth, Faisal alleges that Oromo nationalists claim territories extending to Mogadishu, Djibouti, Yemen, Kenya, and Eritrea.  This is perhaps the most extraordinary part of his argument.  I have yet to encounter a credible statement by a recognized Oromo political party, organization, or prominent nationalist leader asserting territorial claims over Mogadishu, Yemen, Eritrea, or Djibouti.

If Faisal possesses such evidence, he should present it. Which Oromo political organization has made these claims? When were they made? In what official document or public statement?  Without such evidence, these allegations amount to a sweeping and potentially inflammatory misrepresentation of Oromo nationalism.

The irony is striking: the territorial ambitions he attributes to Oromo nationalists bear a much closer resemblance to the historically documented ideology of Greater Somalia.  This leads to a more important question: Why has Faisal Roble chosen this moment to launch such an attack on Oromo nationalism?  To explore that question, we must examine the emerging political connections between Nairobi, Mogadishu, and Jijjiga.

The Nairobi–Mogadishu–Jijjiga Nexus

Recent political developments in the Horn of Africa raise questions about the relationships among Somali nationalist networks, political actors in Somalia, and political movements operating within Ethiopia’s Somali Region.  Nairobi has long served as an important center for Somali political, commercial, and diaspora activity. Its significance as a meeting place for politicians, businesspeople, and opposition figures is well established.  However, the existence of these networks does not, by itself, establish that they operate under a coordinated political agenda.

What concerns me is the possibility that certain political actors are attempting to exploit regional tensions, territorial disputes, and opposition alliances to advance a renewed expansionist agenda.  This concern becomes particularly important when viewed alongside recent political developments in Ethiopia and the changing alliances among armed and opposition movements.

The Minnesota Fraud Cases and the Nairobi Connection

Recent federal fraud prosecutions in Minnesota have also drawn attention to the movement of stolen public funds into overseas investments, including real estate in Kenya.  Among the individuals named in connection with these cases, several of them have investments in Nairobi realestate. The diversion of funds intended to feed vulnerable children is deeply disturbing. Such misconduct betrays taxpayers’ trust, harms the communities these programs were designed to serve, and unfairly tarnishes the reputation of the many honest, hardworking Somali Americans who have contributed to their communities and American society.  Criminal responsibility rests with the individuals involved and should never be generalized to an entire ethnic or immigrant community. Nevertheless, for Oromos and Kenyans, reports of property acquisitions by individuals indicted in the Minnesota fraud cases, in a city (Nairobi) where allegations of a nonexistent Oromo ultranationalist movement have suddenly surfaced, raise legitimate concerns. This does not imply any connection between those implicated in Minnesota and political figures in Nairobi. Rather, the broader question is whether illicit financial networks, political influence, and regional nationalist agendas intersect in ways that warrant further investigation.

The ONLF and the Changing Political Alliances in Ethiopia

In September 2026, the Ogaden National Liberation Front (ONLF) was reported to have joined a coalition known as the Ethiopian Peoples’ Forces Alliance for Survival, bringing together seven armed and opposition organizations opposed to Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed’s administration.

The ONLF has historically pursued Somali self-determination in Ethiopia’s Somali Region. Its political trajectory must also be understood in the context of the broader history of Somali nationalism and the territorial disputes that have shaped relations between Ethiopia and Somalia.  The changing fortunes of opposition alliances, including those associated with the TPLF, may have created opportunities for other political movements to reposition themselves.

I am particularly concerned that some advocates of Somali expansionist nationalism may see these developments as an opportunity to revive older territorial ambitions.  Faisal Roble’s political commentary and Farah Maalim’s reported statements about support for the ONLF deserve examination in this context, despite political sympathy for an organization should not be confused with proof of operational involvement in its activities.  The critical issue is whether opposition to the Ethiopian government is being used to advance legitimate political demands or to reopen territorial conflicts between neighboring communities.

Moyale, Borana, and the Politics of Territorial Expansion

Recent tensions around Moyale and Borana territory have intensified these concerns.  Moyale lies in a historically sensitive borderland where Oromo and Somali communities, including Borana and Garri populations, have longstanding relationships shaped by trade, migration, political competition, and periodic conflict.

Reports of violence, including the alleged killing of a 13-year-old girl and the reported refusal to return her body to her family, are deeply disturbing. These allegations demand an independent investigation, accountability, and justice for the victim’s family.  No territorial or political dispute can justify the killing of a child.  This is extreme nationalism in action.

Of particular concern are reports that a Somali national flag, rather than the flag of Ethiopia’s Somali Regional State, was raised in contested territory.  If verified, such an act would carry political significance extending beyond an ordinary local dispute. It would raise questions about whether the conflict was being framed in terms of Somali national territorial ambitions rather than local administrative boundaries.  This is why I do not believe the tensions should be dismissed simply as a dispute between the Garri and Borana communities both of whom are Oromos and both of whom speak Oromo language.  There is a larger historical and political context that deserves examination.

The timing of Faisal Roble’s remarks, following heightened tensions and Oromo reactions to events in the area, is striking. His criticism of Oromo nationalism appears to reflect a broader political anxiety about Oromo resistance to territorial encroachment.  Whether this interpretation is correct requires further evidence. Nevertheless, it provides a compelling reason to examine the historical record of Somali expansionist nationalism.

Greater Somalia: The Historical Irony

Perhaps the greatest irony in Faisal Roble’s accusations is that the territorial expansionism he attributes to Oromo nationalists closely resembles the ideology of Greater Somalia.  The Greater Somalia project was not an imaginary accusation invented by political opponents. It was an explicit political objective promoted by extreme Somali nationalist movements and successive Somali governments.  Its central ambition was to unite Somali-inhabited territories across the Horn of Africa under a single political entity.  This included the Somali Republic, the Ogaden and other Somali-inhabited territories of Ethiopia, the Northern Frontier District of Kenya, and Djibouti.  The five-pointed star on Somalia’s flag historically symbolized these five Somali territories.

Under Siad Barre, this ideology became closely associated with military expansionism and the attempt to alter established international borders by force.  Thus, the history of Somali ultra-nationalism is not merely a history of territorial ambition. It is also a warning about the destructive consequences of authoritarianism, militarization, and exclusionary political identity.

Against this historical background, Faisal Roble’s portrayal of Oromo nationalism as uniquely expansionist becomes especially difficult to understand.

The Western Somali Liberation Front and the Ogaden War

The Western Somali Liberation Front (WSLF) provides one of the clearest historical examples of ultra nationalism and the territorial objectives associated with Greater Somalia.  Supported by the Somali government, the WSLF operated in eastern Ethiopia and played a significant role in the conflict that culminated in the 1977 – 1978 Ogaden War.  The name Western Somali Liberation Front itself reflected a territorial conception in which parts of internationally recognized Ethiopian territory were regarded as belonging to a broader Somali nation.

During the war, Somali forces advanced into substantial portions of eastern Ethiopia before being defeated by Ethiopian forces.  The conflict had devastating consequences for the region and its civilian populations, the broader military campaign and associated political movements affected Oromo communities and territories.  But the central point is undeniable: territorial revisionism was an explicit component of the Greater Somalia project, manifested as ultra nationalism.  These fanatical adventures to alter boarders by force led to the disintegration of the Somali state apparatus and the mushrooming of warlords.

Where, then, is the equivalent documented Oromo nationalist program claiming Mogadishu, Yemen, or Eritrea?  If Faisal Roble wishes to make that comparison, the burden of evidence rests with him.

From the WSLF to the ONLF

The decline of the WSLF and the emergence of the ONLF marked an important transformation in Somali nationalist politics in Ethiopia.  The ONLF emerged in the 1980s and eventually became a major political and armed organization advocating self-determination for ethnic Somalis in Ethiopia.  Although the ONLF and WSLF differed in their organizational structures, political circumstances, and stated objectives, their histories are connected to the broader question of Somali national identity and political sovereignty in the Horn of Africa.

The relationship between Somali nationalist movements and Oromo liberation organizations has also been complex.  At different times, their interests have converged around opposition to Ethiopian central governments. At other times, territorial competition, political rivalry, and conflicting national aspirations have generated serious tensions.  Historical attacks of Somali extremists on Oromo liberation figures, including the 10 massacred at Shinniga in 1980 have deeply saddened the Oromo people, leaving a historical scar.  Faisal shall pour no more fuel to these historic wounds and respect the brotherly sentiment that existed between Oromos and Somalis for centuries.

The Somali Abo Liberation Front and the Struggle Over Oromo Territory

During the 1970s, the Somali government supported extremist Somali movements operating in southern Ethiopia, including areas historically associated with the provinces of Bale, Sidamo, and Arsi.  These regions were primarily inhabited by Oromo populations.  The SALF mobilized some communities in these areas to suit Somalia’s regional political and military objectives.  Unlike the WSLF, which focused primarily on Somali national claims in eastern Ethiopia, the SALF’s activities extended into areas where Oromo identity and political aspirations were central.  It was a clear expansionist and extremist move to annex some Oromo territories including the Garri.

Following Somalia’s defeat in the Ogaden War, the Oromo Abo Liberation Front (OALF) emerged reflecting changing political identities and alliances.  The precise organizational relationship between the SALF and OALF, including claims about formal renaming and changes in political affiliation, remain beyond the scope of this paper.  Nevertheless, the broader history illustrates an important point: Somali state-sponsored political and military movements were active in territories inhabited by Oromo communities, and the growing national aspirations of Somali extremism was already evident decades ago.

This is the historical context in which false accusations of Oromo territorial expansionism must be evaluated.  It is important to note that out of such piles of political extremism was born Al-Shabaab, whose emergence was also shaped by a different mix of ideology, state collapse, and extremist politics.  There simply are no parallels to such extremism in the Oromo body politics, reason why Faisal’s statement itself comes as extreme.

Who Is Really Promoting Expansionist Nationalism?

Faisal Roble’s comments raise questions that cannot be avoided.  Why are political commentators such as Faisal Roble and Farah Maalim devoting so much attention to the alleged dangers of Oromo nationalism while appearing less concerned about the documented history of Somali territorial expansionism?  Why portray Oromo demands for political rights and territorial security as extremist while failing to apply the same scrutiny to the ideology of Greater Somalia?  And why should Oromo opposition to perceived territorial encroachment be interpreted as radicalization rather than as a legitimate concern about security, identity, and political rights?

These questions are especially important given the continuing challenges facing Somalia itself.

Somalia has struggled for decades with state fragmentation, armed insurgency, political instability, and the difficulty of establishing effective authority across its territory. Regional and international assistance, including sacrifices made by Ethiopian forces, has played a significant role in efforts to restore security.  I have no doubt that many of these forces come from Oromia.

Rather than reopening old territorial disputes, political leaders and commentators should devote greater attention to peace, accountable governance, economic development, and cooperation among the peoples of the Horn of Africa.

This is not an argument against Somali nationalism as an expression of cultural identity or legitimate political aspiration. Nor is it a criticism of Somali people, whose communities have suffered enormously from war, displacement, and political instability.  It is an argument against expansionist ultra-nationalism, regardless of who promotes it.

Conclusion: The Danger of Historical Amnesia

Faisal Roble’s criticism of Oromo nationalism suffers from a fundamental contradiction.  He warns against an alleged Oromo expansionist movement without identifying credible evidence of the extraordinary territorial claims he attributes to it. Yet the historical record contains extensive documentation of Somali nationalist movements that openly pursued territorial revisionism across the Horn of Africa.

The Greater Somalia project, the WSLF, the Ogaden War, and the history of Somali-backed political movements in southern Ethiopia are not matters of speculation. They are part of the region’s political history.

None of this means that Oromo nationalism should be exempt from criticism. Any nationalist movement can become intolerant, exclusionary, or extremist. Oromo nationalism, like every other political movement, should be judged by its principles, conduct, and respect for the rights of others.  But criticism must be grounded in evidence, not sweeping accusations or historical distortions.

If Faisal Roble believes that Oromo nationalists are claiming Mogadishu, Yemen, Djibouti, Eritrea, and Kenya, he should identify the organizations, leaders, statements, and documents that substantiate his allegations.  Until then, his claims remain unsupported.

The peoples of the Horn of Africa have suffered enough from territorial wars, political manipulation, and competing nationalist ambitions. They deserve a future based on mutual recognition, historical honesty, and respect for one another’s rights.  The real danger to Ethiopia and the wider Horn of Africa is not the legitimate expression of Oromo or Somali national identity. It is the revival of expansionist ideologies that treat the territories and rights of neighboring peoples as objects of political conquest.  That is the danger Faisal Roble should be addressing rather than projecting onto Oromo nationalism the very expansionist tendencies that have already caused so much suffering in the region.

Dr. Taaddasaa Eebbaa (Gadaa Meelbaa): The Visionary Who Breathed Life into Ethiopia’s Biodiversity Legacy

By Dhabessa Wakjira

In the annals of Ethiopian and Oromo history, few figures embody the rare combination of scientific brilliance, political conviction, and unwavering sacrifice as profoundly as Dr. Taaddasaa Eebbaa. Known affectionately by many names—Dr. Fidoo, Doktoree, and most famously in literary circles as Gadaa Meelbaa—this remarkable scholar, freedom fighter, and author left an indelible mark on his nation’s scientific and political landscape before his passing on May 1, 2022, in Washington, D.C.

Humble Beginnings, Extraordinary Vision

Born in Najjoo, in the West Wallagga region, Dr. Taaddasaa’s journey from a young student in his hometown to an internationally recognized geneticist reads like a testament to the power of determination. He completed his primary education in Najjoo before pursuing his secondary studies in Jimma—a journey that would set the stage for an extraordinary academic career.

His first degree in agriculture from Alemaya College (now Haramaya University) marked the beginning of a lifelong dedication to understanding and preserving Ethiopia’s natural wealth. Not content with domestic excellence, Dr. Taaddasaa pursued his master’s and doctoral degrees at universities in the United States and the United Kingdom, specializing in genetics—a field that would become central to his life’s work.

The Architect of Ethiopia’s Biodiversity Conservation

The 1970s found Dr. Taaddasaa teaching at Haramaya University before joining the Ministry of Agriculture as a researcher. It was during this period that his visionary leadership would leave an enduring legacy on Ethiopian science.

As the director of a groundbreaking research project dedicated to studying Ethiopia’s plant genetic resources, Dr. Taaddasaa didn’t merely participate in scientific inquiry—he fundamentally shaped it. The institution that would eventually become the Ethiopian Biodiversity Institute (EBI) stands as a monument to his foresight and dedication.

According to historical accounts, Dr. Taaddasaa was not just a founding member but the intellectual force behind the establishment of this crucial institution in 1978, initially named the Plant Genetic Resource Centre of Ethiopia. Professor Endashaw, a former colleague, emphasizes this point with conviction: “Everything was initiated by Taaddasaa. Nothing was added. They removed him from the institution’s history. From all of us, they bought it from there.”

The institution’s original location near present-day Embasi, Kenya, was selected under Dr. Taaddasaa’s guidance—a decision that reflected his deep understanding of Ethiopia’s ecological diversity and its importance for global food security.

When Science Met Politics

Dr. Taaddasaa’s brilliance extended beyond the laboratory. His passion for Oromo culture and identity led him to help organize the first Oromo cultural showcase at the National Theatre in the 1970s—an act of cultural preservation that foreshadowed his later political engagement.

The political repression of the Derg regime did not spare this distinguished scientist. Historical accounts document that he was imprisoned twice in 1979 for his activities. The political pressure became unbearable, forcing Dr. Taaddasaa to make the heart-wrenching decision to leave his work and family behind in Finfinne, escaping through Assosa to Sudan at the end of 1979. From there, he joined the Oromo Liberation Front (OLF), beginning a new chapter in his life of service.

Dr. Shuggux Galataa Qondaalaa, a former OLF leader who knew Dr. Taaddasaa intimately, recalls his political journey: “He was among those who participated in founding the OLF. He took part in the secret meeting held in Finfinne on June 11, 1976. Everyone who participated in that meeting continued as members of the central committee, and Dr. Taaddasaa continued the struggle from then on.”

Sacrifices Beyond Measure

The personal cost of Dr. Taaddasaa’s commitment to freedom was staggering. His wife, Aadde Addisaalem Gannat, was imprisoned for over ten years during the Derg regime, finally released in 1988. His young son, barely two years old, died from neglect—a tragedy that haunts the pages of his life story. His daughter Urjii remains as a testament to a family that paid dearly for their convictions.

“Taaddasaa is not just someone with a good mind, but someone who thinks of others. Someone who thinks of his country,” reflects Professor Endashaw. “If he had stayed in science, he would have been a star researcher. What is past cannot be returned.”

Within the OLF, Dr. Taaddasaa’s contributions were equally significant. He served as a member of the Political Bureau after the 1988 leadership transition and contributed to the Biree Diplomaasii—a foundational document for the organization’s diplomatic strategy. His journey of exile took him through Khartoum, Germany, and finally to the United States, where he lived until his death.

The Pen That Awakened a Nation

Perhaps Dr. Taaddasaa’s most enduring contribution to Oromo consciousness came not through politics or science, but through literature. In 1988, while in Khartoum, he published “Oromia”—a book that would become a cornerstone of Oromo national awakening.

Published under the pseudonym Gadaa Meelbaa, the book’s authorship remained a mystery to many for years. The text, later translated into both Afaan Oromoo and Amharic, comprehensively addressed Oromia’s resources, culture, traditions, historical oppression, and the challenges facing the Oromo people.

Bulii Ejjetaa, who was a university student when the book was published, recalls its transformative impact: “We saw that book as a ‘pill of freedom.’ It asked us clearly: What is Oromia? Where is it located? What does it have? What has it been through? We shared it and discussed it at university. After joining the struggle, we used it to educate our people.”

The book served as a consciousness-raising tool for countless young Oromos, many of whom had been disconnected from their cultural identity. “For students who didn’t know their Oromummaa, we would say, ‘Give this child that pill,'” Bulii remembers. “That book was a pill for strengthening Oromummaa and nationalism.”

Years after its publication, when Dr. Taaddasaa’s authorship became known, he transferred the book’s rights to the Oromo people and the OLF—a final act of generosity from a man who had given everything.

An Unacknowledged Legacy

Despite his monumental contributions, Dr. Taaddasaa’s role in founding the Ethiopian Biodiversity Institute has been systematically erased from official narratives. Five years after he established the institution, records began crediting someone else with its founding.

This erasure of his legacy represents a broader pattern of historical amnesia that has obscured the contributions of Oromo intellectuals to Ethiopian national development. Yet those who knew him and benefited from his work ensure his memory endures.

A Life of Purpose, A Legacy of Inspiration

Dr. Taaddasaa Eebbaa’s life represents the intersection of scientific excellence and political conviction—a rare combination that produced lasting change in multiple spheres. He was a geneticist who understood that preserving Ethiopia’s biodiversity was essential for the nation’s future. He was a freedom fighter who believed that the Oromo people deserved dignity, self-determination, and cultural recognition. And he was an author whose words awakened a generation.

In his final years, Dr. Taaddasaa returned to Ethiopia briefly when the OLF transitioned to peaceful political participation, serving as an advisor to the organization. His journey had come full circle—from a young student in Najjoo to an internationally recognized scientist, from a political prisoner to a freedom fighter, from an exiled author to a respected elder statesman.

He passed away on May 1, 2022, in Washington, D.C., after a long illness, leaving behind his daughter Urjii and a legacy that transcends the boundaries of science, politics, and literature.

Dr. Taaddasaa Eebbaa—Gadaa Meelbaa—reminds us that true greatness lies not in what we accumulate but in what we give. He gave his scientific genius to Ethiopia’s biodiversity, his political passion to Oromo liberation, and his literary gift to a people hungry for self-knowledge. In doing so, he became more than a scholar or a revolutionary—he became a pillar of Oromo memory, a testament to what one person can accomplish when guided by love for people and country.

His story deserves to be told, retold, and never forgotten—not merely as a historical record, but as an inspiration for generations yet to come. For in remembering Dr. Taaddasaa Eebbaa, we remember what it means to live with purpose, to sacrifice with dignity, and to leave the world better than we found it.

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This feature article honors the life and legacy of Dr. Taaddasaa Eebbaa (Gadaa Meelbaa), whose contributions to Ethiopian science, Oromo liberation, and literature continue to inspire.

🔥 JUST RELEASED: The First Written Sacred Text of Waaqeffannaa

DAANIYAA — The Spiritual Constitution of the Oromo People Has Arrived


✨ A Historic Moment for Oromo Spirituality, Culture & Identity ✨

For generations, the sacred teachings of Waaqeffannaa — the indigenous religion of the Oromo people — lived in the hearts of elders, in the rhythm of prayers facing the rising sun, in the whispers of the Odaa tree, and in the waters of Hora Arsadi.

Now, for the first time, these teachings are written.

📖 DAANIYAA — authored by Maatii Sabaa — is the foundational written sacred text of Waaqeffannaa. It is more than a book. It is a spiritual constitution. It is a cultural treasure. It is a declaration of identity.


🌍 WHAT IS DAANIYAA?

Daaniyaa is the first written sacred text of Waaqeffannaa — the ancient, monotheistic faith of the Oromo people. It preserves and codifies:

✅ Belief in Waaqa Tokkicha — The One God, omnipresent, omnipotent, directly accessible to every believer without intermediaries

✅ Safuu — The moral and spiritual order; ethical conduct, social justice, and spiritual balance

✅ Ayyaana — The divine spirit and ancestral connection that binds the Oromo people to Waaqa and to their heritage

✅ Reverence for Nature — The eco-theology of Waaqeffannaa; stewardship of land, water, and all creation

✅ Sacred Rituals — Irreechaa, daily prayers (Kadhaa Waaqaa), rites of passage (Mokii), and sacred oath-taking (Arfaasaa)

✅ Prohibitions — Against killing sacred animals, cutting sacred trees, and breaking oaths


📚 WHY DAANIYAA MATTERS

Daaniyaa is not just a religious text. It is a tool of preservation, education, and decolonization.

🔹 Preserves Oral Traditions — Documents rituals, philosophy, and teachings that were passed down orally for millennia

🔹 Strengthens Oromo Identity — Promotes Afaan Oromo in religious practice and connects spirituality to cultural pride

🔹 Educates Future Generations — A foundation for scholars, students, and all who seek to understand Waaqeffannaa’s ethics and philosophy

🔹 Counters Historical Suppression — A powerful act of cultural resistance and spiritual reclamation

🔹 Environmental Stewardship — Teaches ecological balance and respect for the natural world


🌿 THE RITUALS WITHIN

Daaniyaa describes the sacred practices that have sustained the Oromo people for thousands of years:

🌊 Irreechaa — The thanksgiving festival celebrated twice a year at sacred waters like Hora Arsadi; offerings of milk, honey, and water; prayers led by Qallu (priests) and elders; communal dancing symbolizing unity

🌅 Kadhaa Waaqaa — Daily prayers facing east at sunrise, with raised hands and chanted prayers

🌳 Sacred Symbols — The Odaa (sycamore tree), water, and the colors green and white, signifying peace and divinity

🤝 Arfaasaa — Sacred oath-taking to resolve conflicts and restore harmony


💚 WHO IS THIS BOOK FOR?

Daaniyaa is for:

📌 Oromo people seeking to reconnect with their spiritual roots

📌 Students and scholars researching indigenous African religions

📌 Followers of Waaqeffannaa who want a written foundation for their faith

📌 Anyone interested in African spirituality, decolonization, and cultural preservation

📌 Future generations who deserve to inherit their heritage in written form


🗣️ A MESSAGE TO THE OROMO PEOPLE

For too long, our spiritual heritage was passed down only through spoken word. For too long, our traditions were at risk of being lost. For too long, we were told our religion had no scripture.

That changes now.

Daaniyaa is here. It is written. It is ours.

This is not just a book. It is a homecoming. It is a reclamation. It is a gift to our children and our children’s children.


📖 GET YOUR COPY TODAY

DAANIYAA — The Foundational Written Sacred Text of Waaqeffannaa

Author: Maatii Sabaa

Available now.

🔗 Elellee bookstore, located in front of the bus station in Finfinne

📱 Facebook

📧 +251 91 164 1066


🙏 GALATOOMAA — THANK YOU

We give thanks to Waaqa Tokkicha for this moment.

We give thanks to Maatii Sabaa for this work.

We give thanks to all who have preserved our traditions through generations.

And we give thanks to you — for being part of this historic moment.


📢 SHARE THIS POST

Help us spread the word. Share this announcement with your family, your friends, your community.

Let the world know: Waaqeffannaa has a written text. The Oromo people have a spiritual constitution. And its name is DAANIYAA.


#Daaniyaa #Waaqeffannaa #Oromo #Oromia #Ethiopia #Irreechaa #Safuu #Ayyaana #WaaqaTokkicha #OromoSpirituality #IndigenousFaith #AfricanSpirituality #Decolonization #CulturalPreservation #MaatiiSabaa #NewBook #SacredText #SpiritualConstitution #OromoHeritage #AfaanOromo


🌟 BAGA DAANIYAA GEENYE! 🌟

The written word of Waaqeffannaa has arrived!


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Daaniyaa: Preserving the past. Empowering the present. Guiding the future.

Irreechaa: The Festival That Renews Humanity, Reconciles Creation, and Reclaims Time Itself

In the Oromo language, nineteen sacred phrases capture the full magnitude of Irreechaa — a celebration that is not merely cultural but cosmic, not merely annual but eternal, not merely human but divine.

Beneath the sycamores, beside the sacred waters, a people gather to become whole — and to remind the universe what wholeness means.


A Litany of Renewal

There are sentences that function as scripture. The Oromo people have such a sentence about Irreechaa:

“Irreechaan humneessaa namummaa, lachiisaa namummaa, marabeessaa namummaa, nageessaa namummaa, araarsaa namummaa, waloomsaa uumaa-uumamaa, sirna galateeffannaa, yaadannoo uumamaa, hulluuqoo hameenyaa, mallattoo ulfoo, yeroo dhiifamaa, ce’umsaa baraa, damboobsaa namummaa, fooyyessaa namummaa, fufsiisaa namummaa, fineessaa namummaa, guutessaa namummaa, kadhannaa gaarummaa, fi haaromsaa namummaa ti.”

This is not a description. It is a declaration. It is the Oromo people’s theological testimony about what Irreechaa is — not what it symbolizes, not what it represents, but what it accomplishes in the world.

Nineteen phrases. Nineteen dimensions of one reality. Nineteen ways of saying: Irreechaa renews humanity, reconciles creation, and reclaims time itself.


Part One: The Renewal of Humanity

The first five phrases focus on the human person — what Irreechaa does to the individual soul.

Humneessaa Namummaa — The Empowerment of Humanity

Irreechaan humneessaa namummaa. Irreechaa is the empowering of humanity.

Before the festival, participants are asked to reconcile. They set aside grudges. They release resentment. This is not weakness — it is the most difficult form of strength. To forgive is to be liberated from the prison of grievance.

The person who has made peace is not just morally superior. They are empowered. They have reclaimed energy that was being spent on resentment. They stand at the water’s edge lighter, freer, more capable of gratitude.

This is the first renewal: the empowerment that comes from letting go.

Lachiisaa Namummaa — The Reconciliation of Humanity

Irreechaan lachiisaa namummaa. Irreechaa is the reconciling of humanity.

This is Irreechaa’s beating heart. Without araara — reconciliation — the festival cannot proceed. The tradition is explicit: you cannot participate while holding a grudge. The water will not receive your thanks if your heart is still at war.

In a world that profits from division, this requirement is revolutionary. Irreechaa says: Before you celebrate, reconcile. Before you give thanks, make peace. Before you approach the sacred, heal the human relationships that have been broken.

The Oromo do not pretend that reconciliation is easy. They simply insist that the work of peace must be done — deliberately, consciously, before the community gathers.

Marabeessaa Namummaa — The Unification of Humanity

Irreechaan marabeessaa namummaa. Irreechaa is the unifying of humanity.

Millions arrive from across Ethiopia, from the diaspora, from every walk of life. Farmers and professors. Mothers and students. Elders and children. Muslims and Christians and practitioners of the old faith. They dress in white — a sea of unity that visually overwhelms the eye.

But the unification is not mere numbers. It is spiritual. It is the experience of dissolving the boundaries that separate human beings from one another. For one day, the Oromo people are not many. They are one.

This is tokkummaa — unity — and it is not an abstract ideal. It is a lived experience at the water’s edge. The person standing beside you is not a stranger. They are your brother. They are your sister. They are yourself.

Nageessaa Namummaa — The Peace-Bringing of Humanity

Irreechaan nageessaa namummaa. Irreechaa is the peace-bringing of humanity.

The Oromo greeting for the festival is “Baga Irreechaa nagaan geessan” — May the Irreechaa arrive in peace. This is not a casual wish. It is a declaration of intent.

Irreechaa does not merely celebrate peace. It produces it. The festival is a peace-making technology, an ancient ritual that creates the conditions for harmony between individuals, communities, and the divine.

Consider what happens when millions of people gather in a single place and commit, together, to reconciliation. Consider what happens when a nation’s largest cultural event is built on the requirement that participants set aside their conflicts. Peace is not the absence of conflict. It is the presence of araara. And Irreechaa makes that presence visible, tangible, and real.

Araarsaa Namummaa — The Forgiveness of Humanity

Irreechaan araarsaa namummaa. Irreechaa is the forgiving of humanity.

Araara is the Oromo word for reconciliation, but it carries a deeper meaning: the restoration of relationship, the healing of rupture, the return to wholeness. At Irreechaa, forgiveness is not a suggestion. It is a prerequisite.

The person who comes to the water carrying resentment is not participating in Irreechaa. They are merely present. True participation requires the internal work of forgiveness — the decision to release the debt, to let go of the grievance, to choose relationship over righteousness.

This is the fifth renewal: the forgiveness that makes all other renewal possible.


Part Two: The Reconciliation of Creation

The next several phrases expand beyond the human person to encompass the entire created order.

Waloomsaa Uumaa-Uumamaa — The Harmony of Creation

Irreechaan waloomsaa uumaa-uumamaa. Irreechaa is the harmonizing of creation.

The Oromo understanding of Irreechaa is not limited to human community. The festival reconciles the entire cosmos — uumaa (the Creator) and uumamaa (creation) — in a single act of thanksgiving.

When the Oromo gather at the water, they are not just repairing human relationships. They are restoring the primal harmony between the divine, the human, and the natural. The water is sacred. The grass is sacred. The sky, the earth, the trees, the animals — all are participants in the festival.

This is waloomaa — harmony — and it is the original condition of creation. Irreechaa returns what was broken to what it was meant to be.

Sirna Galateeffannaa — The Order of Thanksgiving

Irreechaan sirna galateeffannaa. Irreechaa is the order of thanksgiving.

Sirna means order, system, institution, ceremony. Irreechaa is not spontaneous emotion. It is structured ritual — a carefully preserved system of thanksgiving that has been practiced for thousands of years.

The Gadaa system organizes Oromo society by age grades, each with defined responsibilities. Irreechaa is woven into this system. It is not just a festival. It is an institution — a sirna — that orders the relationship between the human community and the divine.

Thanksgiving, in Oromo cosmology, is not optional. It is the fundamental posture of the creature toward the Creator. To give thanks is to acknowledge reality: that we did not create ourselves, that we depend on forces beyond our control, that life is a gift.

Yaadannoo Uumamaa — The Memory of Creation

Irreechaan yaadannoo uumamaa. Irreechaa is the memory of creation.

Yaadannoo means memorial, remembrance, commemoration. At Irreechaa, the Oromo people remember not just the harvest of the past year but the creation of the world itself.

This is sacred memory — not nostalgia, not sentimentality, but the deliberate act of recalling what is fundamental. The Oromo remember that they are creatures. They remember that the earth is sacred. They remember that water is the source of life. They remember that gratitude is the proper response to existence.

In a modern world that so often forgets the sacred, Irreechaa is a collective act of remembrance. It says: We have not forgotten who we are. We have not forgotten where we came from. We have not forgotten what we owe.

Hulluuqoo Hameenyaa — The Rejection of Evil

Irreechaan hulluuqoo hameenyaa. Irreechaa is the rejection of evil.

Hulluuqoo means that which is rejected, refused, cast out. Hameenyaa means evil, wickedness, malice. Irreechaa is not just the affirmation of good. It is the explicit rejection of evil.

At the water’s edge, the Oromo people collectively renounce the forces that destroy human community: hatred, jealousy, greed, violence, deception. They name these forces and cast them out. They declare that these things have no place in the renewed humanity they are creating.

This is spiritual warfare — not against flesh and blood, but against the principalities and powers that corrupt the human heart. And it is fought not with weapons but with water, grass, and words of prayer.

Mallattoo Ulfoo — The Sign of Love

Irreechaan mallattoo ulfoo. Irreechaa is the sign of love.

Ulfoo means love, compassion, mercy. Irreechaa is not just a festival of gratitude. It is a sign — a visible, tangible, public demonstration — of divine love.

The Oromo believe that Waaqa (God) loves humanity. The rains come. The harvest arrives. The sun returns after the darkness. These are not accidents of nature. They are expressions of divine love.

And Irreechaa is the human response to that love. It is the sign that the relationship is mutual. God gives; the people give thanks. God loves; the people love in return.


Part Three: The Reclamation of Time

The next phrases focus on Irreechaa’s relationship to time itself — its power to forgive the past, transform the present, and renew the future.

Yeroo Dhiifamaa — The Time of Forgiveness

Irreechaan yeroo dhiifamaa. Irreechaa is the time of forgiveness.

Yeroo means time, season, moment. Dhiifamaa means forgiveness, pardon, release. Irreechaa is not just a festival. It is a time — a specific, sacred season set apart for the work of forgiveness.

In the rhythm of the Oromo year, Irreechaa is the moment when the community pauses and says: Now is the time to make peace. Now is the time to release grievances. Now is the time to forgive.

This is the ritualization of forgiveness. It is not left to chance or whim. It is scheduled. It is expected. It is required.

Ce’umsaa Baraa — The Turning of the Year

Irreechaan ce’umsaa baraa. Irreechaa is the turning of the year.

Ce’umsaa means transition, passage, crossing over. Irreechaa marks the turning point of the year — the end of the rainy season Ganna and the beginning of spring Birraa. It is a threshold, a liminal moment between what was and what will be.

At this threshold, the old year dies and the new year is born. The mistakes of the past are released. The possibilities of the future are welcomed. The community stands at the hinge of time and chooses to move forward.

This is ce’umsaa baraa — the turning of the year. And it is not just a calendar event. It is a spiritual one.

Damboobsaa Namummaa — The Restoration of Humanity

Irreechaan damboobsaa namummaa. Irreechaa is the restoring of humanity.

The rainy season destroys. Rivers swell. Roads wash out. Crops are lost. The land itself seems to be in mourning.

Then the rains end. The sun returns. The harvest begins. The people gather at the water to give thanks.

Irreechaa is the celebration after the suffering. It is the moment when the community pauses and says: We made it through. We survived. We are still here.

This is restoration — not the erasure of hardship, but the transformation of hardship into gratitude. The floods came, and we endured. The darkness came, and we waited. The sun returned, and we give thanks.


Part Four: The Perfection of Humanity

The final phrases describe Irreechaa’s ultimate purpose: the perfection of the human person and community.

Fooyyessaa Namummaa — The Improvement of Humanity

Irreechaan fooyyessaa namummaa. Irreechaa is the improving of humanity.

Irreechaa is not content with survival. It seeks flourishing. The festival is not merely about maintaining what exists but about becoming more than you were.

Fooyya’uu means progress, development, growth. The person who participates in Irreechaa is not the same person who entered the festival. They have been improved — refined by the discipline of reconciliation, elevated by the experience of unity, deepened by the practice of gratitude.

Fufsiisaa Namummaa — The Fulfillment of Humanity

Irreechaan fufsiisaa namummaa. Irreechaa is the fulfilling of humanity.

There is a deep longing in the human heart for completion — for the sense that life is not fragmented, that it has meaning, that it is going somewhere. Irreechaa answers that longing.

At the water’s edge, surrounded by millions of people who share your language, your faith, your hope, you experience a sense of completeness that modern life so often denies. You are not alone. You are not meaningless. You are part of something larger than yourself.

Fineessaa Namummaa — The Refinement of Humanity

Irreechaan fineessaa namummaa. Irreechaa is the refining of humanity.

Water is the medium of purification. At Irreechaa, participants dip sacred grass into the water and sprinkle it upon themselves and others. The Kormoomsaa — the blessing of the young men — cleanses and consecrates.

The refinement Irreechaa offers is the refinement of character. At the water’s edge, the layers of resentment, pride, and grievance are stripped away. What remains is the essential human being — vulnerable, grateful, connected, at peace.

Guutessaa Namummaa — The Completion of Humanity

Irreechaan guutessaa namummaa. Irreechaa is the completing of humanity.

There is a difference between fulfillment and completion. Fulfillment is the experience of meaning. Completion is the achievement of wholeness. Irreechaa offers both.

The festival completes the cycle of the year. It completes the work of reconciliation. It completes the process of purification. It completes the community — bringing together all its members, from the youngest child to the oldest elder.

At Irreechaa, nothing is left out. No one is excluded. The festival is guutuu — complete, full, entire. The sea of white garments is not just a visual image. It is a theological statement: this is what wholeness looks like.

Kadhannaa Gaarummaa — The Prayer of Goodness

Irreechaan kadhannaa gaarummaa. Irreechaa is the prayer of goodness.

Kadhannaa means prayer, supplication, petition. Gaarummaa means goodness, virtue, excellence. Irreechaa is not just a festival of the past. It is a prayer for the future.

At the water’s edge, the Oromo people pray for goodness — for themselves, for their families, for their communities, for their nation, for the world. They ask Waaqa to make them good, to keep them good, to use them for good.

This is the prayer that summarizes all the others. It is the request that the renewal that has begun at Irreechaa will continue throughout the year.

Haaromsaa Namummaa — The Renewal of Humanity

Irreechaan haaromsaa namummaa. Irreechaa is the renewing of humanity.

And so we arrive at the final phrase — the culmination of all the others.

Empowerment leads to reconciliation. Reconciliation leads to unity. Unity brings peace. Peace enables forgiveness. Forgiveness restores creation. Creation remembers its Creator. Evil is rejected. Love is affirmed. Time is redeemed. Humanity is restored, improved, fulfilled, refined, completed. And then — haaromsaa namummaa — humanity is renewed.

Irreechaa is not just a festival. It is a process — a spiritual technology that takes human beings as they are and transforms them into what they can become. It takes fractured people and makes them whole. It takes divided communities and makes them one. It takes a broken world and makes it new.

This is what the Oromo people have known for thousands of years. This is what they celebrate at the water’s edge every year. This is what they offer to Ethiopia, to Africa, and to the world.


The Full Testimony

Let us read the sentence again — the full sentence — and hear it now with understanding:

“Irreechaan humneessaa namummaa, lachiisaa namummaa, marabeessaa namummaa, nageessaa namummaa, araarsaa namummaa, waloomsaa uumaa-uumamaa, sirna galateeffannaa, yaadannoo uumamaa, hulluuqoo hameenyaa, mallattoo ulfoo, yeroo dhiifamaa, ce’umsaa baraa, damboobsaa namummaa, fooyyessaa namummaa, fufsiisaa namummaa, fineessaa namummaa, guutessaa namummaa, kadhannaa gaarummaa, fi haaromsaa namummaa ti.”

Irreechaa is the empowering of humanity, the reconciling of humanity, the unifying of humanity, the peace-bringing of humanity, the forgiving of humanity, the harmonizing of creation, the order of thanksgiving, the memory of creation, the rejection of evil, the sign of love, the time of forgiveness, the turning of the year, the restoring of humanity, the improving of humanity, the fulfilling of humanity, the refining of humanity, the completing of humanity, the prayer of goodness, and the renewing of humanity.

This is not poetry. This is testimony. This is the Oromo people’s declaration of what Irreechaa does in the world.

Humanity can be renewed. Not through politics or economics or technology alone, but through the ancient practices of reconciliation, gratitude, purification, and community. Not through grand ideological projects, but through the simple, profound act of gathering at the water with your people, setting down your grudges, and giving thanks.

Irreechaa is the renewal of humanity. And it happens every year, at the water’s edge, one person at a time.


Baga Irreechaa Nagaan Geessan

The Oromo greeting says it all:

Baga Irreechaa nagaan geessan.

May the Irreechaa arrive in peace.

May the festival be empowering, reconciling, unifying, peace-bringing, forgiving, harmonizing, thanksgiving, memorial, rejecting of evil, sign of love, time of forgiveness, turning of the year, restoring, improving, fulfilling, refining, completing, prayerful, and renewing of humanity.

May the waters receive your gratitude.

May the grass carry your prayers.

May the nation, like the earth after the rains, emerge greener and stronger than before.

And may you — and all of us — be renewed.


#Irreechaa #Oromia #Ethiopia #RenewalOfHumanity #HaaromsaaNamummaa #PeaceAndReconciliation #Thanksgiving #KadhannaaGaarummaa

photos credit: OBN

Irreechaa: The Festival That Renews Humanity Itself

In the Oromo language, ten words capture what no single English phrase can hold: Irreechaa is empowering, reconciling, unifying, peace-bringing, restorative, improving, fulfilling, refining, completing, and renewing of humanity.

Beneath the sycamore trees, beside the sacred waters, a people gather not merely to celebrate — but to become whole again.


Ten Words, One Truth

There are moments when a single sentence carries the weight of an entire civilization’s wisdom. The Oromo people have such a sentence about Irreechaa:

“Irreechaan humneessaa, lachiisaa, marabeessaa, nageessaa, damboobsaa, fooyyessaa, fufsiisaa, fineessaa, guutessaa fi haaromsaa namummaa ti.”

Translated, it means: “Irreechaa is empowering, reconciling, unifying, peace-bringing, restorative, improving, fulfilling, refining, completing, and renewing of humanity.”

This is not poetry for its own sake. It is a theological statement, a philosophical declaration, and a psychological insight — all compressed into ten carefully chosen Oromo words. Each word describes not merely what Irreechaa does, but what it is. The festival is not a symbol of these things. It is the mechanism through which they happen.

To understand Irreechaa is to understand that humanity — fractured, exhausted, divided, grieving — can be regenerated. And the Oromo people have been practicing that regeneration for thousands of years.


Humneessaa: The Empowerment

Irreechaa begins with empowerment — humneessaa.

Before the festival, participants are asked to reconcile with themselves and with others. They set aside grudges. They release resentment. This is not weakness. It is the most difficult form of strength: the strength to lay down your weapons, to open your hands, to approach the sacred water without the armor of grievance.

The Oromo understand something that modern psychology is only now catching up to: unresolved conflict is a form of imprisonment. It binds the spirit. It drains the soul. To forgive — to seek araara — is to be liberated.

At Irreechaa, the person who has reconciled is not just morally superior. They are empowered. They have reclaimed energy that was being spent on resentment. They stand at the water’s edge lighter, freer, more capable of gratitude. This is the first regeneration: the empowerment that comes from letting go.


Lachiisaa: The Reconciliation

The second word is lachiisaa — reconciliation.

This is Irreechaa’s beating heart. Without araara, the festival cannot proceed. The tradition is explicit: you cannot participate in Irreechaa while holding a grudge. The water will not receive your thanks if your heart is still at war.

In a world that profits from division — where political parties, media ecosystems, and social platforms thrive on grievance — this requirement is revolutionary. Irreechaa says: Before you celebrate, reconcile. Before you give thanks, make peace. Before you approach the sacred, heal the human relationships that have been broken.

The Oromo do not pretend that reconciliation is easy. They do not suggest that pain should be ignored or injustice forgotten. They simply insist that the work of peace must be done — deliberately, consciously, before the community gathers. This is not naive optimism. It is disciplined spiritual practice.

At Hora Arsadi, at Hora Finfinne, at watersides across Oromia, millions of people perform this practice every year. They come as individuals carrying private wounds. They leave as a community bound by shared peace.


Marabeessaa: The Unification

Marabeessaa — unification. Gathering. Coming together as one.

Irreechaa is the largest gathering of Oromo people in the world. Millions arrive from across Ethiopia, from the diaspora, from every walk of life. Farmers and professors. Mothers and students. Elders and children. Muslims and Christians and practitioners of the old faith. They dress in white — a sea of unity that visually overwhelms the eye.

But the unification is not mere numbers. It is spiritual. It is the experience of dissolving the boundaries that separate human beings from one another. For one day, the Oromo people are not many. They are one.

This is what the Oromo call tokkummaa — unity — and it is not an abstract ideal. It is a lived experience at the water’s edge. The person standing beside you is not a stranger. They are your brother. They are your sister. They are yourself, reflected in the sacred waters.

In a nation and a world where ethnic, religious, and political identities so often divide, Irreechaa offers a different possibility: a unity that does not erase difference but transcends it. Everyone is welcome. Everyone is included. Everyone belongs.


Nageessaa: The Peace-Bringing

Nageessaa — peace-bringing.

The Oromo greeting for the festival is “Baga Irreechaa nagaan geessan” — May the Irreechaa arrive in peace. This is not a casual wish. It is a declaration of intent. Peace is not something that happens to you. It is something you arrive at, together, at the water, with your hands open and your grudges surrendered.

Irreechaa does not merely celebrate peace. It produces it. The festival is a peace-making technology, an ancient ritual that creates the conditions for harmony between individuals, communities, and the divine.

Consider what happens when millions of people gather in a single place and commit, together, to reconciliation. Consider what happens when a nation’s largest cultural event is built on the requirement that participants set aside their conflicts. Consider what happens when the sacred water receives only the prayers of those who have made peace with their neighbors.

Peace is not the absence of conflict. It is the presence of araara. And Irreechaa makes that presence visible, tangible, and real.


Damboobsaa: The Restoration

Damboobsaa — restorative. Renewing. Returning what was lost.

The rainy season in Oromia is long and hard. Rivers swell. Roads wash out. Crops are destroyed. Families are separated. The land itself seems to be in mourning.

Then the rains end. The sun returns. The harvest begins. And the people gather at the water to give thanks.

Irreechaa is the celebration after the suffering. It is the moment when the community pauses and says: We made it through. We survived. We are still here.

This is restoration — not the erasure of hardship, but the transformation of hardship into gratitude. The floods came, and we endured. The darkness came, and we waited. The sun returned, and we give thanks.

The Oromo understanding of restoration is deeply wise. It does not pretend that pain did not happen. It does not rush past grief. It simply insists that pain and grief are not the end of the story. The water is still there. The grass is still green. The community is still gathered. And the harvest, despite everything, has come.


Fooyyessaa: The Improvement

Fooyyessaa — improving. Making better.

Irreechaa is not content with survival. It seeks flourishing. The festival is not merely about maintaining what exists but about becoming more than you were.

This is the Oromo concept of fooyya’uu — progress, development, growth. The festival is connected to the harvest, to the productivity of the land, to the prosperity of the community. It celebrates not just what has been given but what has been built.

But the improvement Irreechaa seeks is not only material. It is moral, spiritual, and communal. The person who participates in Irreechaa is not the same person who entered the festival. They have been improved — refined by the discipline of reconciliation, elevated by the experience of unity, deepened by the practice of gratitude.

Irreechaa makes people better. Not through lectures or commandments, but through participation in a ritual that embodies the values it teaches.


Fufsiisaa: The Fulfillment

Fufsiisaa — fulfilling. Completing what was promised. Making whole.

There is a deep longing in the human heart for completion — for the sense that life is not fragmented, that it has meaning, that it is going somewhere. Irreechaa answers that longing.

The festival marks the fulfillment of a cycle. The rains came, and the harvest followed. The prayers were offered, and the blessings arrived. The year turns, and the community moves forward, not into emptiness, but into the next season of hope.

But fufsiisaa is more than seasonal. It is existential. At the water’s edge, surrounded by millions of people who share your language, your faith, your hope, you experience a sense of completeness that modern life so often denies. You are not alone. You are not meaningless. You are part of something larger than yourself — a people, a tradition, a story that stretches back thousands of years and forward into an unknown but blessed future.

This is fulfillment: the knowledge that you are exactly where you are supposed to be.


Fineessaa: The Refinement

Fineessaa — refining. Purifying. Making fine.

Water is the medium of purification in Oromo cosmology. At Irreechaa, participants dip sacred grass into the lake or river and sprinkle the water upon themselves and others. The Kormoomsaa — the blessing of the young men — is a ritual sprinkling that cleanses and consecrates.

This is not merely symbolic. The Oromo believe that water is the source of purity and the foundation of creation. To be sprinkled with sacred water is to be washed — not just physically, but spiritually, morally, and communally.

The refinement Irreechaa offers is the refinement of the human character. At the water’s edge, the layers of resentment, pride, and grievance are stripped away. What remains is the essential human being — vulnerable, grateful, connected, at peace.

The festival does not make people perfect. It makes them fine — purified of the things that separate them from themselves, from each other, and from the divine.


Guutessaa: The Completion

Guutessaa — completing. Making full. Filling up what was empty.

There is a difference between fulfillment and completion. Fulfillment is the experience of meaning. Completion is the achievement of wholeness. Irreechaa offers both.

The festival completes the cycle of the year. It completes the work of reconciliation. It completes the process of purification. It completes the community — bringing together all its members, from the youngest child to the oldest elder, from the nearest village to the farthest diaspora.

At Irreechaa, nothing is left out. No one is excluded. The festival is guutuu — complete, full, entire. The sea of white garments is not just a visual image. It is a theological statement: this is what wholeness looks like. This is what humanity becomes when it gathers in gratitude and peace.

The Oromo understanding of completion is radical. It insists that human beings are not complete as individuals. We are complete only in community. We are complete only in relationship with the divine. We are complete only when we gather at the water, together, with hands open and hearts reconciled.


Haaromsaa Namummaa: The Renewal of Humanity

And so we arrive at the final and greatest word: haaromsaa namummaa — the renewal of humanity.

This is the culmination of all the others. Empowerment leads to reconciliation. Reconciliation leads to unity. Unity brings peace. Peace enables restoration. Restoration opens the way for improvement. Improvement leads to fulfillment. Fulfillment demands refinement. Refinement produces completion. And completion is renewal.

Irreechaa is not just a festival. It is a process — a spiritual technology that takes human beings as they are and transforms them into what they can become. It takes fractured people and makes them whole. It takes divided communities and makes them one. It takes a broken world and makes it new.

This is what the Oromo people have known for thousands of years. This is what they celebrate at the water’s edge every year. This is what they offer to Ethiopia, to Africa, and to the world.

Humanity can be renewed. Not through politics or economics or technology alone, but through the ancient practices of reconciliation, gratitude, purification, and community. Not through grand ideological projects, but through the simple, profound act of gathering at the water with your people, setting down your grudges, and giving thanks.

Irreechaa is the renewal of humanity. And it happens every year, at the water’s edge, one person at a time.


Baga Irreechaa Nagaan Geessan

The Oromo greeting for the festival says it all:

Baga Irreechaa nagaan geessan.

May the Irreechaa arrive in peace.

May the festival be empowering, reconciling, unifying, peace-bringing, restorative, improving, fulfilling, refining, completing, and renewing of humanity.

May the waters receive your gratitude.

May the grass carry your prayers.

May the nation, like the earth after the rains, emerge greener and stronger than before.

And may you — and all of us — be renewed.


#Irreechaa #Oromia #Ethiopia #RenewalOfHumanity #PeaceAndReconciliation #Thanksgiving #HaaromsaaNamummaa

High Leadership Committee for the Newly Established Oromia Zones Assigned

Finfinnee — The Oromia Regional Government has established a new reform by restructuring the administrative structure of Oromia from 21 zones to 6 zones, with the aim of building a strong system and government that can ensure the historic decision of people’s ownership. Accordingly, the high leadership committee for these newly established zones has been assigned.

The Oromia Communication Service has announced this information. The reform is said to be prepared to improve the administrative system and expedite services delivered to the people.

East Oromia Zone

For East Oromia Zone, whose seat is Harar, Obbo Abdurrahmaan Abdallaa has been assigned as Chief Administrator of East Oromia Zone at the rank of Deputy President.

Aadde Miski Muhammad has been assigned as Deputy Head of Development Affairs for East Oromia Zone at the rank of Bureau Head, with her seat at Ciroo. Obbo Anas Aliyyii has been assigned as Deputy Head of Peace and Justice Affairs for East Oromia Zone at the rank of Bureau Head, with his seat at Galamsoo.

Obbo Jaarsoo Boruu has been assigned as Senior Advisor to the Administrator of East Oromia Zone at the rank of Bureau Head, with his seat at Gurawaa. Obbo Fiqaaduu Miiliyoon and Aadde Saamiyaa Abdallaa have been assigned as Advisors to the Administrator of East Oromia Zone at the rank of Bureau Head.

Central Oromia Zone

For Central Oromia Zone, whose seat is Shaggar and Adaamaa, Dr. Mangistuu Baqqalaa has been assigned as Chief Administrator of Central Oromia Zone at the rank of Deputy President.

Obbo Abbaabbuu Waaqoo has been assigned as Deputy Head of Development Affairs for Central Oromia Zone at the rank of Bureau Head, with his seat at Waliso. Obbo Kifalaw Adaree has been assigned as Deputy Head of Peace and Justice Affairs for Central Oromia Zone at the rank of Bureau Head, with his seat at Fiichee.

Obbo Makkonnin Baay’isaa has been assigned as Senior Advisor to the Administrator of Central Oromia Zone at the rank of Bureau Head, with his seat at Ambo. Obbo Ashannaafii Ajjamaa and Obbo Taaddalaa Diriirsaa have been assigned as Advisors to the Administrator of Central Oromia Zone at the rank of Bureau Head.

South West Oromia Zone

For South West Oromia Zone, whose seat is Jimma, Dr. Rashaad Kamaal has been assigned as Chief Administrator of South West Oromia Zone at the rank of Deputy President.

Obbo Indaalkaachaw Tafarii has been assigned as Deputy Head of Development Affairs for South West Oromia Zone at the rank of Bureau Head, with his seat at Beddellee. Obbo Amaan Danuu has been assigned as Deputy Head of Peace and Justice Affairs for South West Oromia Zone at the rank of Bureau Head, with his seat at Limmuu Gannat.

Obbo Didhaa Guddataa has been assigned as Senior Advisor to the Administrator of South West Oromia Zone at the rank of Bureau Head, with his seat at Mattuu. Obbo Muhaammadxaahaa Abbaa Fiixaa and Obbo Moosisaa Lammeessaa have been assigned as Advisors to the Administrator of South West Oromia Zone at the rank of Bureau Head.

South Oromia Zone

For South Oromia Zone, whose seat is Yaabeelloo, Obbo Ahmad Haajii has been assigned as Chief Administrator of South Oromia Zone at the rank of Deputy President.

Obbo Adulaa Hirbaayyee has been assigned as Deputy Head of Development Affairs for South Oromia Zone at the rank of Bureau Head, with his seat at Adoolaa. Obbo Liiban Areeroo has been assigned as Deputy Head of Peace and Justice Affairs for South Oromia Zone at the rank of Bureau Head, with his seat at Nageellee Booranaa.

Obbo Wandimmuu Roobee has been assigned as Senior Advisor to the Administrator of South Oromia Zone at the rank of Bureau Head, with his seat at Bulee Horaa. Obbo Ibraahim Abdii and Obbo Isaaq Xaachoo have been assigned as Advisors to the Administrator of South Oromia Zone at the rank of Bureau Head.

West Oromia Zone

For West Oromia Zone, whose seat is Naqamte, Obbo Masfin Malaakuu has been assigned as Chief Administrator of West Oromia Zone at the rank of Deputy President.

Obbo Mirreessaa Fiixee has been assigned as Deputy Head of Development Affairs for West Oromia Zone at the rank of Bureau Head, with his seat at Gimbii. Obbo Gammachuu Gurmeessaa has been assigned as Deputy Head of Peace and Justice Affairs for West Oromia Zone at the rank of Bureau Head, with his seat at Shaambuu.

Obbo Taliilaa Tarrafaa has been assigned as Senior Advisor to the Administrator of West Oromia Zone at the rank of Bureau Head, with his seat at Dambii Doolloo. Obbo Badhaasaa Dhaabaa and Obbo Dassuu Lammii have been assigned as Advisors to the Administrator of West Oromia Zone at the rank of Bureau Head.

South East Oromia Zone

For South East Oromia Zone, whose seat is Roobee, Obbo Ahimad Idriis has been assigned as Chief Administrator of South East Oromia Zone at the rank of Deputy President.

Obbo Asaffaa Tolasaa has been assigned as Deputy Head of Development Affairs for South East Oromia Zone at the rank of Bureau Head, with his seat at Gindhiir. Obbo Abdurrazaaq Huseen has been assigned as Deputy Head of Peace and Justice Affairs for South East Oromia Zone at the rank of Bureau Head, with his seat at Asallaa.

Obbo Ibraahim Kadiir has been assigned as Senior Advisor to the Administrator of South East Oromia Zone at the rank of Bureau Head, with his seat at Shaashamannee. Obbo Izzaddiin Abuubakar and Obbo Birhaanuu Arfaasaa have been assigned as Advisors to the Administrator of South East Oromia Zone at the rank of Bureau Head.


The reform restructuring Oromia’s zones from 21 to 6 has been described by the Oromia Communication Service as being prepared to improve the administrative system and expedite services delivered to the people. The high leadership committee for these newly established zones has now been assigned.

Irreechaa: A Billion Hearts, One Festival of Light

Across continents and generations, the Oromo nation celebrates the victory of light over darkness — a festival that unites, sustains, and inspires

(MELBOURNE, AUSTRALIA, 27 September 2026) — This week, more than a billion people around the world are celebrating Irreechaa, the cultural festival celebrating the victory of light over darkness. It’s an important time for the Oromo nation. Across states, regions and cities, it fostered unity, sustainability, and joy, illuminating paths to prosperity and peace.

From the sacred shores of Hora Arsadi in Bishoftu to the riverbanks of the Awash, from the bustling streets of Addis Ababa to the quiet parks of Melbourne, Minneapolis, and London, the sounds of shaggooyyee and the colors of calanchi have once again filled the air. Irreechaa has returned — and with it, a message that transcends borders, generations, and circumstances.

A Festival Rooted in Gratitude

At its heart, Irreechaa is a thanksgiving. It marks the end of the rainy season and the beginning of the harvest, a moment when the Oromo people gather at the water’s edge to offer thanks to Waaqa (God) for the gift of life, fertility, and renewal. The festival is celebrated twice a year: Irreechaa Hiyyessa (the small Irreechaa) and Irreechaa Guddaa (the great Irreechaa), with the latter drawing millions to sacred sites across Oromia and beyond.

But Irreechaa is more than a ritual. It is a philosophy. The triumph of light over darkness is not merely a seasonal metaphor — it is a declaration of hope. It reminds us that even after the longest night, the sun rises. Even after the heaviest rain, the land blooms. Even in the face of adversity, a people united by faith and tradition can find their way forward.

Unity Across Divides

This year’s celebrations carried particular weight. In a world often divided by politics, religion, and geography, Irreechaa stood as a powerful counter-narrative. In cities across Ethiopia and the diaspora, people of all ages, backgrounds, and walks of life gathered side by side. Elders passed down blessings. Mothers sang songs of gratitude. Children danced in celebration. And for a moment, the divisions that so often define modern life seemed to dissolve.

In Melbourne, where the Oromo community has grown into a vibrant and organized presence, Irreechaa was celebrated with the same reverence as it is in the homeland. Families dressed in traditional wandaboo and uffannaa aadaa, exchanged greetings of “Happy Irreechaa!” and shared meals that tasted of home. The event was a testament to the resilience of a people who, even thousands of miles from their ancestral land, refuse to let their culture fade.

Sustainability: A Legacy of Respect for the Earth

Irreechaa is also a reminder of humanity’s relationship with nature. The festival is intrinsically tied to the land, the rivers, and the changing seasons. It teaches that gratitude must be accompanied by stewardship — that the earth is not ours to exploit but to protect.

In an era of climate crisis, this message could not be more urgent. The Oromo people’s reverence for water, land, and life offers a model of sustainability that the world would do well to heed. Irreechaa is not just a celebration of what we have received; it is a commitment to preserve it for those who come after us.

Joy as Resistance

Perhaps most powerfully, Irreechaa is a celebration of joy. In a world that often demands we focus on what divides us, the festival insists on what unites us. It is a reminder that joy is not frivolous — it is revolutionary. To celebrate in the face of hardship is to declare that hardship will not have the final word.

The images emerging from this year’s celebrations tell that story. A grandmother teaching her granddaughter the steps of a traditional dance. A young man helping an elder across the river. A group of friends laughing as they share a meal under the open sky. These are the moments that define Irreechaa. These are the memories that will be passed down.

Illuminating Paths to Prosperity and Peace

As the celebrations draw to a close, the message of Irreechaa lingers. Light has triumphed over darkness. Gratitude has triumphed over despair. Unity has triumphed over division.

For the Oromo nation, Irreechaa is not just a festival — it is a compass. It points toward a future built on peace, prosperity, and mutual respect. It reminds us that the path forward is illuminated not by the brightness of any single star, but by the collective light of a people who refuse to be extinguished.

And as the sun rises on another year, that light shines on — in Bishoftu, in Melbourne, in Minneapolis, and in every corner of the world where the Oromo spirit lives.

Baga Irreechaa Nagayaan Geessan! Baga Bara Haaraa Geessan!

May the light of Irreechaa guide us all toward a year of peace, unity, and abundance.

🩸 THREE MOMENTS. ONE PEOPLE. ONE NAME. 🩸

They tried to split us by faith. We chose to die as OROMO.


1️⃣ ARSII — 1966

📍 Hundee Tokkummaa Oromoo

In the mountains of Arsii, the foundation was laid. In 1966, brave Oromo sons — Muslim and Christian together — raised the banner of Oromo unity. The enemy’s plan was simple: use religion to break us. They failed. They dug deep foundations that no conspiracy could shake. From Arsii, the root of Oromo unity was planted in blood and fire. 🔥

“Hundee Tokkummaa Oromoo — Arsii, 1966”


2️⃣ SHINNIGAA — 1980

📍 Tokkummaa Oromoo Shinnigaa

In 1980, at Shinnigaa, they came with the same weapon — religion. “Separate yourselves,” they said. “Die apart.” But our heroes looked at the pit, looked at each other, and said:

“Maqaa amantaan gargar hin baanu.”
We do not divide the name by religion.

They refused to separate. They were massacred together, as one people, under one name. Their blood soaked the same ground. Their sacrifice became our foundation. 🕯️

“Tokkummaa Oromoo Shinnigaa — 1980”


3️⃣ BISHOOFTUU — 2016

📍 Walgaltee Ilmaan Oromiyaa

Thirty-six years later, in Bishooftuu Harsadii, the enemy tried again. Same tactic. Same lie. Separate the Muslim from the Christian. Divide the youth. Break the unity.

They failed again.

The youth of Oromiyaa refused to be divided. They were buried together — in one place, under one identity. They became the pillars of our identity (utubaa eenyummaa). We will never forget them. Not today. Not ever. ✊

“Walgaltee Ilmaan Oromiyaa — Bishooftuu Harsadii, 2016”


⚡ THE MESSAGE ⚡

From Arsii 1966 → Shinnigaa 1980 → Bishooftuu 2016

The enemy’s strategy never changed:
Use religion to divide. Use division to destroy.

Our answer never changed either:
We are OROMO first. We die together. We rise together.

They built pits expecting us to fall apart.
We built monuments of unity from our bones.


🔥 “Seenaa keenya keessatti barayyuu cululuqee jiraata.” 🔥

In our history, it lives forever — shining.


🔁 SHARE if you refuse to be divided.
❤️ LIKE if you honor their sacrifice.
💬 COMMENT the name of your hero.
📌 SAVE this. Teach it. Never forget.


#Oromo #Oromia #Arsii1966 #Shinnigaa1980 #Bishooftuu2016 #MaqaaAmantaanGargarHinBaanu #TokkummaaOromoo #NeverForget #OromoUnity #SeenaaKeenya #Qeerroo #OromoIdentity #OnePeopleOneName


“Those who tried to bury them did not know: a people who refuse to be divided have found something stronger than death.” 🩸✊

The Legacy Written in Blood and Bone: Three Historical Moments When Oromos Refused to Be Divided by Religion

When the executioners thought faith could split them, they chose the same name: Oromo.

In Oromo collective memory, three moments spanning half a century—from 1966 to 2016—are repeatedly told, sung, and etched into stone. They occurred in different eras, different places, with participants from different generations. Yet their inner logic is strikingly identical: whenever external forces tried to tear Oromo unity apart using religious identity, someone always stood up and proved with their life that “Maqaa amantaan gargar hin baanu”—the name is not divided by faith.

From Arsi to Shinnigaa, and then to Bishooftuu, three locations form a blood-red thread, telling the story of how an oppressed people forged “refusal to be divided” into the core of their identity.

Arsi: The Resurrection of a Name

In 1966 Ethiopia, publicly using the word “Oromo” was itself a dangerous provocation. The empire’s narrative machine had erased the name from official discourse, replacing it with derogatory labels. It was precisely in this era that an Islamic scholar named Ahmed Taqi Sheikh Mohammed Rashid made a decision that would change the trajectory of history.

Taqi, later known as “Hundee” (meaning root or foundation), was born into a family of Islamic scholars in Harargee. He studied the Qur’an, Hadith, and Oromo history from childhood. By his early twenties, he was a successful merchant, but what truly defined him was his encounter with General Tadesse Birru, founder of the Macha-Tulama Self-Help Association. After Tadesse was placed under house arrest in Galamsoo, Taqi befriended him and began spreading an idea that was nearly heretical at the time: being Oromo was not a curse but a virtue worth loving.

In 1966, Taqi and Elemo Qiltu—another revolutionary who had returned from Syria—launched an armed struggle in the Guba Koricha mountains. This was the starting point of the modern Oromo national liberation movement. Their organization had no religious threshold, no sectarian conditions. Muslim scholars and Christian warriors fought under the same banner.

On September 6, 1974, Taqi and Elemo were executed in Hirroo. But the resurrection of a name had already become irreversible. The singer Ali Birra, with the help of Abubakar Musa, set Taqi’s memory to music in “Yaa Hundee Bareedaa” (Beautiful Hundee). The song played on radio, was sung at weddings, and hummed at funerals. Taqi’s “root” sank into the deepest layers of Oromo mass consciousness—a consciousness shared by Muslims, Christians, and Waaqeffataa alike.

Shinnigaa: Refusing to Separate at the Edge of the Pit

If 1966 planted the seed, then 1980 was its most tragic flowering.

On April 15, 1980, eleven top leaders of the Oromo Liberation Front were ambushed by Somali militia in Shinnigaa (located in the Ogaden region). This was not a chance encounter—they were captured alive. The militia dug a large pit, then did what they thought was the most lethal thing: they classified the prisoners by religion.

“You see,” a commander reportedly told the bound prisoners, “you fought together. But you will die separately. Let each one pray to his own god before falling into the pit.”

The executioners expected fear. They expected a scramble for last rites. They expected a tiny fracture that would prove the Oromo cause was nothing but a lie.

The answer they received came from Jar Magarsa Bari, then chairman of the OLF. He did not ask for a priest, did not ask for a Sheikh. He turned to his comrades and spoke the words that would later be repeated countless times:

“Maqaa amantaan gargar hin baanu. We do not divide the name by religion. Dig the pit wider, or throw us in together. We are Oromo first.”

Eleven men—Chairman Barisoo Wabee, Vice Chairman Gadaa Gamada, Abbaa Shikii, Dori Bari, Farmata, Fafam Doyo, Ilana Kachale, Dhadhacho Boruu, Dhadhacho Murata, Mari Galaan—arms bound together, stepped forward. According to Oromo oral tradition, Gadaa Gamada turned to the executioners and smiled: “You want to see us pray? Watch this.”

This day was written into history. Not as a massacre, but as an oath.

Bishooftuu: Another Generation’s Choice

Thirty-six years later, the same scene played out with almost identical logic.

2016, Bishooftuu-Harsadi. A new wave of Oromo protests was sweeping across the region, triggered by the so-called “Addis Ababa and Surrounding Oromia Master Plan”—a plan widely seen as an attempt to annex Oromo land. Young activists known as “Qeerroo” confronted security forces in city streets and rural roads.

In Bishooftuu, a group of Oromo youth were surrounded. According to circulated accounts, security forces once again tried to exploit religious identity—separating Muslims from Christians, persuading some to deny their Oromo identity in exchange for their lives. The result was refusal once again.

They died together, buried in the same place. Their names were repeatedly invoked by Oromo social media, poetry, and song. They became “utubaa eenyummaa”—pillars of identity.

Oromo activists framed this event as “dying for Oromo identity, refusing to be divided by religion.” The words spoken at Shinnigaa thirty-six years earlier were re-spoken with bodies by a new generation at Bishooftuu.

Why This Matters

These three events—Arsi, Shinnigaa, Bishooftuu—form a clear pattern. Religion is indeed a real line of difference within Oromo society. Arsi Oromos are predominantly Muslim, partly because in the nineteenth century they chose Islam as a cultural fortress against Amhara Orthodox colonial conquest. The Orthodox Church’s role in Oromo territories was tightly bound to conquest: priests arrived alongside Menelik’s generals, “blessed” massacres, and then received land and serfs. Thus religious difference in Oromo society is not a small matter—it carries the full weight of colonial violence history.

Precisely because of this, external forces repeatedly tried to exploit this fracture. The Somali militia of 1980 tried. The security forces of 2016 tried. Each time, they lost.

But the reason they lost is not that religious differences didn’t exist. The reason is that Oromo nationalism, in its most decisive figures, developed a priority that transcends religion: We are Oromo first. This is not a denial of faith but an insistence on order. When the core logic of oppression is the denial of your very existence, any internal division that makes that oppression more effective is betrayal.

The eleven at Shinnigaa did not become “Muslim martyrs” and “Christian martyrs.” They became one thing: Oromo martyrs. The youth of Bishooftuu likewise.

“Seenaa keenya keessatti barayyuu cululuqee jiraata”

Those who wanted to bury them failed to understand one fundamental thing: a people who refuse to be divided have found something stronger than death. The pit at Shinnigaa did not end Oromo unity—it became a monument to unity. The repetition at Bishooftuu did not prove that history repeats—it proved that memory endures.

From the moment Taqi and Elemo raised weapons in 1966, to the afternoon of 1980 when eleven men walked arm-in-arm to the edge of the pit, to the streets of Bishooftuu in 2016, what runs through it all is not an abstract slogan but a concrete, testable promise: When others try to kill you using the differences within you, you choose to define yourself by what you share.

This choice has been remembered. Has been sung. Has been re-lived with life after life by generation after generation.

“Seenaa keenya keessatti barayyuu cululuqee jiraata”—in our history, it lives forever, shining.

The Poisoned Feast: The Unbroken Spirit of Jaal Daawud Ibsaa

A Feature Article on Sacrifice, Betrayal, and the Silence That Defeated Torture

—

In the annals of the Oromo national struggle, certain stories refuse to fade. They are passed down not through official archives but through whispered testimonies, through the memories of those who survived, and through the written records of security officials who once sought to erase them. One such story belongs to Jaal Daawud Ibsaa, a name that resonates in the Horro Guduruu heartland and beyond—a man whose journey from student activist to underground fighter to silent prisoner embodies the most harrowing dimensions of resistance.

This account draws from a security report authored by Nugusee Fantaa, head of the Wollega administrative security, and Tasfaayee W/Sillasee, head of Information and National Security, as documented by journalist Abbaa Duulaa Gammada. The journalist himself was granted unusual access, recalling that when he sought to research this history, the security archives of both the Derg’s peace and wartime offices were opened to him. “Abbaa Duulaa told me,” the journalist recounts, “‘You are the only one who has ever asked me to research this story.'”

Roots of Resistance

Jaal Daawud Ibsaa was born in Horro Guduruu, in the western highlands of Oromia. Like many young Oromos of his generation, he pursued education with determination, attending Wingate—the same institution that shaped Mallas Zeenaawii, a student two years his senior. Daawud then entered Kilo 4 University, where he studied statistics. But his formal name tells only part of the story: while the struggle knew him as Daawud, his family called him Firew—a detail preserved in the security records that now serve as historical testimony.

His political consciousness crystallized during the student movements of the early Derg years. For two years, he was imprisoned for his involvement in student activism. Upon his release, he did not retreat. Instead, he joined the underground armed struggle of the ONLF—the Oromo National Liberation Front—immersing himself in a movement that would define the rest of his short life.

The Seventeen Who Crossed the Border

In 1968, when the ONLF elected its central committee of twenty-eight members, Daawud was among those chosen. Three years later, in 1971, the Front made a strategic decision to expand its armed operations into western Ethiopia. Jaal Daawud and Abbaa Caalaa Lataa were appointed to lead and coordinate the western struggle. In total, seventeen fighters—most from the Wallagga and Beegii regions—crossed the Sudanese border to begin operations.

The Derg regime took notice. The suppression of this western ONLF initiative became a priority, with officials including Gidaamii district chief Hiikaa Masaadii and Wollega provincial administrator Nugusee Fantaa devising plans to crush the movement.

Among the seventeen fighters was Obboleessi Zakkaariyaas Shoroo, a native of the region. The security apparatus saw in him a tool for betrayal. Zakkaariyaas was summoned and given his orders: “Feed your brother and his comrades. We will supply you with poison to add to the food. If you refuse, you and your family will be killed, your property confiscated, your land taken, your livestock seized.”

Zakkaariyaas recoiled. “How can I kill my own brother?”

The response was cold and absolute: “If you can, separate your brother so he does not eat. If you cannot—then let them die together.” The security report notes that Zakkaariyaas, under duress, eventually agreed.

The Feast

The fighters, dressed in peasant clothing to blend into the countryside, had gathered in the area. Zakkaariyaas was watched to ensure he did not falter. The poison, sent from Finfinnee through Nugusee Fantaa to Hiikaa Masaadii, was passed to Zakkaariyaas.

On the evening of the planned betrayal, Zakkaariyaas slaughtered a sheep and prepared a feast, claiming to honor his brother and comrades. The seventeen ONLF fighters had split into two groups; Abbaa Caalaa was moving with nine men in another direction, and thus was not present at the meal. But Daawud and the remaining fighters accepted Zakkaariyaas’s invitation and gathered at his home that evening.

Zakkaariyaas could not bring himself to separate his brother. “You will eat later,” he urged. But Daawud refused and joined the meal. As his brother and comrades ate the poisoned food, Zakkaariyaas stood by, trembling, watching.

Daawud ate only a little. When he finished, he rose and went to the door to relieve the comrade who had been standing guard. The others continued eating. Then the convulsions began. Their bodies burned as if on fire. Screams filled the night as one by one they collapsed. Zakkaariyaas clutched his brother’s corpse to his chest.

Daawud had eaten less, but the poison did not spare him. Standing guard outside, he drank large quantities of water, then began convulsing, vomiting blood and bile. The pain in his stomach was unbearable. Yet he did not fall where he stood—he staggered back inside and collapsed among his fallen comrades in Zakkaariyaas’s compound.

Survival and Silence

The fighters in peasant disguise, waiting for the signal, arrived at Zakkaariyaas’s house as planned. They found seven comrades dead—and Daawud, gravely ill but still breathing.

He was rushed toward Dambidoolloo, then to Naqamte, as the ONLF sought both to extract intelligence and to save his life. But the Derg’s security apparatus had other plans. At Naqamte, once he had partially recovered, he was transferred to prison and the beatings began.

The Wollega security report is explicit: no intelligence was ever extracted from Jaal Daawud. Unable to break him through interrogation, they transferred him to Ma’ikelawwii Prison in Finfinnee. There, he was placed in a container filled with benzene and dirty water as interrogation intensified. The report details repeated searches and various forms of torture applied to him.

Daawud chose death over betrayal. Not a single word of intelligence escaped his lips. He endured until the end, and then he passed—unbroken, unbroken in spirit, unbroken in loyalty to the cause he had embraced as a student and carried to his final breath.

The Meaning of Nyaata Summaa’ee

The story of Daawud Ibsaa and the poisoned feast is more than a historical account of betrayal and heroism. It is a meditation on the impossible choices that colonial and authoritarian regimes force upon communities. Zakkaariyaas was not a willing traitor; he was a man crushed between the love of his brother and the threat to his family, his land, his very existence. The regime understood that the most effective weapons are not always guns—sometimes they are the bonds of kinship turned into instruments of destruction.

And yet, in the figure of Daawud Ibsaa, the story offers something else: the possibility of a fidelity that cannot be purchased, tortured, or poisoned away. He ate the food, drank the water, endured the benzene, and carried his secrets to the grave.

The security report that documents these events was never meant to celebrate him. It was meant to record the success of a suppression campaign. But in recording the methods of his torturers, it inadvertently preserved the evidence of his resistance. The archive of oppression became, in the end, a monument to the oppressed.

—

This article is based on the security report authored by Nugusee Fantaa and Tasfaayee W/Sillasee, as documented by journalist.