Category Archives: Election
Minnesota Oromo Community Celebrates Irreecha with Gratitude, Unity, and Hope
Minnesota, USA — The Oromo community in Minnesota gathered at Lake Nokomis on 19 September 2026 to celebrate Irreecha, the sacred Oromo Thanksgiving festival, in a vibrant and deeply meaningful observance that brought together families and friends from across the state.
The celebration, organised by Hawaasa Oromoo Minnesota, was marked by prayers, cultural performances, traditional attire, and a shared spirit of gratitude that reflected the enduring strength of Oromo heritage in the diaspora.
Irreecha: A Festival That Unites the World
During the celebration, speakers described Irreecha as a great Oromo festival that brings the global Oromo community together and showcases the beauty and richness of Oromo culture to the world.
It was emphasised that Irreecha has reached its current level of recognition through immense effort and dedication over many years. Community members were reminded that the journey to elevate the festival has not been easy, and that the sacrifices made along the way must always be honoured.
The gathering also paused to remember the tragic events of 2016 at Arsadi, where lives were lost during Irreecha celebrations. Those who gathered were reminded that the sacrifices made that day will never be forgotten — a solemn moment that underscored the resilience and determination of the Oromo people.
A Celebration Rooted in Gratitude
Thanksgiving is one of the most beautiful and meaningful parts of Oromo culture. Irreecha is a time when the Oromo people come together to give thanks to Waaqa for life, peace, rain, harvest, family, and the blessings of the past season.
More than just a celebration, Irreecha is an expression of gratitude, unity, reconciliation, hope, and renewal. People gather in nature, often near rivers and lakes, carrying fresh green branches and flowers as symbols of life, abundance, and renewal.
Through prayers, songs, traditional clothing, and cultural expressions, communities celebrate together and give thanks for the blessings of creation.
Strengthening Relationships and Building Unity
Irreecha is also a time to strengthen relationships, forgive one another, resolve differences, and look toward the future with hope. The celebration reflects the deep Oromo understanding that human beings are connected to one another, to the land, and to the natural world.
In Minnesota, this spirit of unity was on full display as community members came together in traditional attire, sharing prayers, songs, and fellowship. Elders, youth, and children alike participated in the festivities, ensuring that the traditions of their ancestors continue to thrive in the diaspora.
A Message of Peace and Hope
As the celebration drew to a close, heartfelt wishes were extended to Oromo communities around the world:
“May this Irreecha bring peace to our hearts, unity to our communities, prosperity to our families, and hope for the generations to come.”
The gathering concluded with the traditional blessings that echo across Oromo celebrations everywhere:
“Happy Irreecha! 🌿 🙏🏾 🌳”
“Horaa bulaa, deebanaa! ❤️💚❤️”
Irreecha: A Tradition That Transcends Borders
Irreecha remains a powerful symbol of Oromo identity, connecting millions of people across Ethiopia and the global diaspora. From the shores of Lake Hora Arsadi in Bishoftu to community halls and parks in Minnesota, London, Melbourne, and beyond, the festival continues to unite Oromo people in gratitude, hope, and shared heritage.
As the Oromo community in Minnesota demonstrated, Irreecha is not merely a tradition of the past — it is a living, breathing celebration of faith, resilience, and the enduring bonds of community.
Irreecha nagaan! 🌿
On the Departure of Beloved Artist and Freedom Fighter Ilfinash Qannoo
The official press release from the Oromo Liberation Front (OLF/ABO) regarding the passing of beloved artist and freedom fighter Ilfinash Qannoo:
OFFICIAL FEATURE STATEMENT
On the Departure of Beloved Artist and Freedom Fighter Ilfinash Qannoo
Issued by the Oromo Liberation Front (OLF/ABO)
Fulbaana 07, 2026 | Finfinnee, Oromia
A Great Heroine Has Fallen
The Oromo Liberation Front (OLF/ABO) announces with profound grief and a heavy heart the passing of the great Oromo heroine, patriot, and freedom fighter – Beloved Artist Ilfinash Qannoo – who departed from this world on Fulbaana 06, 2026, in the heart of Oromia, at Finfinnee.
Her loss is not merely the loss of an artist. It is the silencing of a voice that sang freedom for over six decades. It is the emptying of a heart that burned with love for Oromia. It is the falling of a flag that inspired millions to rise against oppression.
Roots of a Revolutionary
Artist Ilfinash Qannoo was born in 1962 to her father, Obbo Qannoo Galdaasaa, and her mother, Aadde Zartihun Qananii, in the town of Saxxoo, located in Eebbaa district, East Wallagga Zone, Western Oromia – a region that would later become the cradle of many liberation struggles.
From her childhood, she was drawn to the arts. But her coming of age coincided with a period of intense political awakening across Ethiopia – a time when the Oromo people and other nations rose against the oppressive system. It was this environment that shaped her destiny and transformed her from a simple performer into a voice of the voiceless.
The Song That Shook the Throne
Her path to fame – and to persecution – began in 1976 at a historic cultural performance in Finfinnee. There, she posed the revolutionary question that would become an anthem of resistance:
“Qawwee malee maaltu bilisa nu baasa?”
(“Without the gun, what will set us free?”)
From that moment onward, her life became inseparable from the struggle for Oromo liberation. She dedicated every song, every performance, and every breath to:
- Glorifying the Oromo struggle
- Preaching Oromo unity
- Dreaming of Oromo freedom
- Empowering the Oromo people
Her stage became a battlefield. Her microphone became a weapon. Her lyrics became a declaration of war against injustice.
The Price of Resistance
For her unwavering commitment to the Oromo cause, she paid a heavy price. Under both the Derg regime and the later Woyanne (TPLF/EPRDF) government, she endured long years of imprisonment alongside countless other freedom fighters.
Her suffering did not end there. During her incarceration under the Woyanne regime, she was subjected to brutal torture – including having her scalp forcibly shaved with broken glass – resulting in deep and lasting physical and psychological wounds.
Upon her release, with the help of Oromo patriots, she was secretly taken to neighboring Kenya, and later granted asylum in Norway, where she continued her work from exile.
A Lifetime of Contribution
Throughout her life, Artist Ilfinash Qannoo produced over 10 albums, each one a powerful contribution to the Oromo liberation movement. Wherever the OLF/ABO had a presence, she was there – answering the call, lending her voice, and rallying the people.
Even during the period when the OLF was hosted in Eritrea and waging its armed struggle, Ilfinash – though living in exile in Norway – traveled repeatedly to Eritrea to inspire and strengthen the fighters. Her presence among the combatants was proof of her unwavering dedication; she did not simply sing about the struggle – she lived it.
Her Final Days – Fire That Would Not Die
Her love for Oromia and her commitment to the cause never wavered. Her heart and spirit remained as strong as steel, untouched by compromise or despair. But the years of imprisonment, torture, and exile had taken a toll on her health. The physical and emotional wounds inflicted upon her in Ethiopian dungeons finally caught up with her.
In her final moments, even as her body weakened, her spirit burned bright. Her last words were not of regret, but of love:
“Oromoo koo! ABO koo! WBO koo! Bilisummaa! Oromiyaa! Tokkummaa fi jaalala Oromummaa…”
(“My Oromo! My OLF! My Oromo Liberation Army! Freedom! Oromia! Unity and love of Oromummaa…”)
She passed at the age of 64, still singing, still hoping, still burning for freedom – until her very last breath.
Artist Ilfinash Qannoo leaves behind her two beloved daughters, Hawwii and Daangaa.
A Call to Honor Her Sacrifice
The Oromo Liberation Front (OLF/ABO) extends its deepest condolences to her family, her relatives, her fellow freedom fighters, and the entire Oromo nation.
We call upon our people to remember her message of unity and love – which was her eternal legacy. We urge all Oromos to carry forward the torch she lit, and to not let the sacrifice of Ilfinash and countless other heroes be in vain.
Let us strengthen our unity. Let us reinforce our love for one another. Let us complete the struggle they began – so that Oromia may be free.
Final Salute
Her memory will forever be etched in our hearts. Her songs will forever echo in our struggles. Her spirit will forever march beside us.
Rest in power, Beloved Ilfinash Qannoo.
You did not die – you were promoted to immortality.
“Qabsa’aan ni kufa, qabsoon itti fufa!”
(“The fighter may fall, but the struggle continues!”)
Glory to the Broad Victory of the People!
Issued by:
Oromo Liberation Front (OLF/ABO)
Fulbaana 07, 2026
Finfinnee, Oromia
#IlfinashQannoo #OLF #ABO #Oromia #Bilisummaa #HeroineNeverDies #StruggleContinues
Oromo Literacy Day: Celebrating the Power of Stories Held in Oromia
By Maatii Sabaa
—
Every year, Oromo Literacy Day is more than a date on a calendar—it’s a living tribute to the resilience of a people and their language. It celebrates Afaan Oromoo, a language that carries the weight of history, the songs of ancestors, and the dreams of a nation. But how did the Oromo people arrive at this moment, where their stories can finally be written, read, and shared with the world? The answer lies in a long and courageous journey toward literacy.
A Written History of Resistance and Revival
The story of Oromo literacy is one of relentless struggle. The Oromo people have long possessed a rich oral tradition, but for much of Ethiopia’s modern history, their language was marginalized. It was a household language—spoken, sung, and whispered—but rarely seen on paper . The first major push to change this came in the late 19th and early 20th centuries.
A pivotal figure was Onesimos Nasib, an Oromo freed from slavery who trained as a teacher in Sweden. Upon his return, he and his colleague Aster Ganno worked with an almost missionary zeal to promote literacy in Afaan Oromoo. Onesimos created the Oromo Reader, a book filled with stories that were “short and funny” and designed to be both accessible and engaging. His aim was not just religious instruction but to cultivate a love for reading itself . He would famously ask young people he met, “Can you read and write?” and persuade them of its immense value .
However, their work met fierce opposition from the imperial government. In the mid-1940s, the Haile Selassie regime placed a total ban on Oromo literature . The language was effectively erased from public life, becoming a symbol of defiance.
The Quest for the Perfect Script
The suppression only intensified the desire for a written Oromo. The question of how to write the language became a central point of debate. Early works, like those of Onesimos, used the Ge’ez alphabet. But many activists and intellectuals believed this script was inadequate for Oromo sounds, failing to represent vowel length and consonant gemination—features that change a word’s meaning .
In the 1960s, the movement for a new script gained momentum. At Addis Ababa University, Oromo students began printing the first newspaper in Afaan Oromoo, Kana Beektaa? (“Do you know this?”), in 1968. The paper was a bold act of cultural preservation, collecting “Oromo songs, proverbs, war and grievance chants, Oromo prophecies, nuptials, baby lullabies, and others” . This was more than journalism—it was a declaration of identity. The paper was short-lived, forced to cease publication in 1971 .
Simultaneously, Oromo students in Europe were rigorously debating the script question. In 1968, a study group led by figures like Haile Fidaa concluded that a modified Latin alphabet was the most practical and linguistically sound choice for Oromo . This decision was not just technical; it was a political act of resistance, rejecting a script associated with the establishment.
A New Dawn: The Adoption of Qubee
After years of struggle, the fall of the military Derg regime in 1991 brought a turning point. The new Ethiopian constitution granted greater autonomy to regional states. Oromo was finally made the official language of the Oromia Regional State .
The Latin-based alphabet, known as Qubee, was officially adopted for writing Oromo . This was a victory decades in the making. The script’s simplicity and adaptability to modern technology made it a practical choice for a language finally stepping into the digital age. As one study noted, Qubee “enabled the language to grow faster as the script can be learned easily” .
However, the adoption was not without controversy. For some, the Ethiopic script held deep cultural significance, and the switch to a Latin alphabet was seen as an emotional and political break . Yet for the majority, Qubee represented liberation.
The Stories That Endure
The adoption of Qubee unlocked a literary explosion. Oromo youth and intellectuals began producing “newspapers, magazines, novels, translations and plays that describe their nation and their state in Afaan Oromoo” . Stories once confined to memory were now printed, preserved, and shared.
The journey has also involved recovering alternative scripts. A fascinating chapter is the story of Sheek Bakrii Saphaloo, a scholar who created a unique indigenous Oromo script. He developed an abugida, a writing system where each base glyph has multiple vocalic components, making it distinct from both the Ge’ez and Latin alphabets . This script has been used for over 70 years and is now being considered for digital preservation and inclusion in Unicode, highlighting the deep connection between literacy and cultural identity .
Why Oromo Literacy Day Matters
Oromo Literacy Day is a celebration of this entire journey. It honors the tenacity of Onesimos Nasib, the courage of student activists, and the vision of scholars who fought to give their language a written form. It is a day to recognize that literacy is not just about reading and writing; it is about power, identity, and survival.
The stories held in Oromia are now written down for the world to see. This day celebrates their liberation and their enduring power.
—
“The stories, with the exception of a couple of martyr stories, are short and funny, and the subjects vary in order to attract.” — Onesimos Nasib on the Oromo Reader
—
Maatii Sabaa is a writer and advocate of the Oromo stories.
The Vanished Voice: Remembering Ob Dabbasaa Guyyoo and the Unfinished Work of Cultural Custodians
On the 27th of September in the year 2015, a quiet tragedy unfolded in the bustling streets of Nairobi. Ob Dabbasaa Guyyoo, an elder in his late seventies, disappeared. He was not a politician, nor a celebrity. He was something rarer and perhaps more precious: a living archive, a walking library of Oromo knowledge, a custodian of Gadaa—the indigenous democratic system that has governed Oromo society for centuries.
The United Nations (UN) has declared the 30th of Hagayya (August) as the International Day of the Victims of Enforced Disappearances. It is a day to remember those who have been forcibly taken, their fates unknown, their families left in a purgatory of uncertainty. For the family and students of Ob Dabbasaa Guyyoo, the 27th of Fulbaana is their personal day of reckoning.
The Life Before the Silence
To understand the weight of this loss, one must understand the life that was lived. Ob Dabbasaa Guyyoo’s world was not shaped by textbooks or university lectures. It was shaped by the Gadaa system, an ancient Oromo institution that governs everything from politics to social conduct, from justice to spirituality. He grew up in its embrace, was nurtured by its principles, and graduated into its senior councils.
But Ob Dabbasaa did not keep this knowledge for himself. He was a teacher, an arsaa-dhageettii—one who uses his eyes and ears to interpret the world and pass it on to others. His mission was profound and urgent: to teach the Oromo people that they possess a civilization of their own. He traveled through villages, and across borders into neighboring countries, preaching a message of cultural pride and historical awareness.
His teaching was a quiet resistance against the forces of erasure. He did not teach with a rod or a weapon; he taught with stories, with proverbs, and with the weight of lived experience. He reminded his people, whether they were Muslim, Christian, or followers of the indigenous Waaqeffannaa faith, that their identity was a gift, not a curse.
A Philosophy of Transmission
There is a profound Oromo philosophy that underpinned his work: a person who does not know their own history is like someone who cannot cross a river without clinging to another. They are dependent, lost, and vulnerable.
Ob Dabbasaa dedicated his life to ensuring that the Oromo would cross that river on their own strength. He took the abstract knowledge of the elders—the norms, the laws, the spiritual ties—and translated it into a curriculum for the youth. He educated and blessed countless students, sowing seeds of self-awareness across the land.
He understood that identity is not inherited automatically; it must be taught, discussed, and practiced. A person must learn who they are, and having learned, they must teach others. It is a duty, an unbroken chain. For as long as he was free, Ob Dabbasaa held that chain steady.
The Day the Chain Broke
On that fateful day in Fulbaana, the chain broke.
While traveling in Nairobi, Ob Dabbasaa Guyyoo vanished. The circumstances remain shrouded in the same ambiguity that haunts so many disappearances across the region. His family suspects the hand of the state, alleging that the authorities know his whereabouts. They live in the cruel limbo of enforced disappearance, clinging to hope while bracing for grief.
He was a man who had already known displacement. In the 1970s, as a refugee fleeing political turmoil in Ethiopia, he had crossed into Kenya, settling in the Machakos and Mlolongo areas with his family. He built a life there, far from his ancestral lands, yet he carried his homeland in his mind and heart. He was already a survivor of one kind of exile; now he has become a victim of another.
Why His Story Matters Now
In an age of information overload, where attention is fleeting, the story of Ob Dabbasaa Guyyoo might seem like a relic of a specific ethnic struggle. But it is not.
His story is a universal lesson about the power of cultural custodians. Every community, from the highlands of Oromia to the islands of the Pacific, relies on individuals who bridge the gap between the ancestors and the youth. When those individuals are silenced, a vital frequency is lost.
The UN’s call for the protection of human rights must include the protection of indigenous knowledge. It is not just a matter of political justice; it is a matter of cultural survival. The Oromo people have a saying: “Jiraachuun seenaa qabaachuudha”—To exist is to have a history.
Today, the whereabouts of Ob Dabbasaa Guyyoo remain unknown. His voice is silent. But the wisdom he imparted lingers in the minds of his students, in the stories told at the Gadaa centers, and in the prayers of his family.
The hope is that his fate will not remain hidden forever. The hope is that the UN’s resolutions against forced disappearances will transform from ink on paper into living justice. And the hope is that the work he started—the work of cultural reclamation—will continue, louder and more determined than before.
Because as long as one Oromo remembers the lessons of the elders, the chain of knowledge is not entirely broken. It is merely waiting for the next voice to pick it up.
THE RAINS HAVE CEASED, THE FLOWERS BLOOM: CELEBRATING IRREECHAA, THE OROMO THANKSGIVING
By Dhabessa Wakjira
In the highlands of Ethiopia, where the skies weep for months on end and the earth turns to mud, there comes a sacred morning when the clouds finally part. The sun, a golden orb of promise, kisses the damp grass, and a new season is born. This is the moment of Birraa—the spring—and for the Oromo people, it is a time to pause, breathe, and pour out their hearts in gratitude.
This is the spirit of Irreechaa, a festival that transcends mere celebration. It is the Oromo Thanksgiving, a profound spiritual and cultural touchstone that marks the end of the punishing rainy season and the beginning of a season of renewal, peace, and hope.
Held annually at the end of September or the beginning of October, Irreechaa is not a quiet affair of private reflection. It is a magnificent, vibrant explosion of life. Thousands, dressed in dazzling traditional attire, converge on sacred rivers, lakes, and hilltops. The air hums with the rhythm of drums, the melodic chants of elders, and the joyous ululations of the crowd. In their hands, they hold the symbols of the season: lush green grass and delicate yellow daisies, emblems of fertility, flourishing life, and the promise of a bountiful year.
The Heart of the Festival: Giving Thanks to Waaqa
At its core, Irreechaa is a dialogue with the divine. The Oromo people lift their prayers to Waaqa (God), offering thanks not for material wealth alone, but for the bedrock of their existence: a good harvest that fills the granaries, the health of their precious livestock, and the most precious gift of all—peace. It is a recognition that survival through the harsh, dark months was not by human effort alone, but by divine mercy.
“We come to the water to wash away our sorrows and our grudges,” explains an elder during a recent ceremony at Lake Hora Arsadi, near Addis Ababa. “The rain has stopped. Now, we cleanse our hearts and start anew.”
A Living Testament to the Gadaa System
Irreechaa is more than a religious observance; it is the vibrant pulse of the Gadaa System, the ancient, indigenous democratic governance structure of the Oromo people. Inscribed by UNESCO as an Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity, the Gadaa System organizes society into generations, guiding leadership, law, and morality. Irreechaa serves as a unifying moment for this system, reinforcing the social contracts and spiritual values that hold the community together.
Reconciliation and Unity
In a world often fractured by division, Irreechaa stands as a powerful advocate for unity. The festival is a designated time for reconciliation. It is a communal balm where feuds are set aside, misunderstandings are forgiven, and the bonds of kinship are strengthened. The shared experience of prayer and dance melts away social barriers, weaving a tapestry of harmony that includes not just the Oromo, but neighboring communities as well.
A Cultural Showcase
To witness Irreechaa is to witness the soul of Oromo culture. The hills become a runway of breathtaking fashion, with men and women adorned in intricately woven garments and vibrant beadwork. The music is hypnotic, with traditional songs that speak of heroism, love, and history. The dances are energetic, a physical manifestation of joy and liberation.
As the sun sets on the celebration, the green grass is often placed upon the heads of participants as a blessing, a final act of connection to the earth and the creator. The festival concludes, but its spirit lingers—a reminder that every ending is a new beginning, and that gratitude is the foundation upon which communities are built.
Irreechaa is not just a festival. It is a declaration: We have survived. We are thankful. We are one.
—
Key Aspects of Irreechaa at a Glance:
· Thanksgiving: Central purpose is to thank Waaqa (God) for blessings over the past year.
· End of Winter: Celebrates the conclusion of the rainy season and the dawn of spring (Birraa).
· Sacred Sites: Observed at rivers (Malkaa), lakes, and hilltops (Tulu).
· Symbols of Life: Participants carry wet grass and daisy flowers to represent fertility and flourishing.
· Cultural Expression: A vibrant display of traditional costumes, music, chants, and dances.
· Unity & Peace: A time for community bonding, spiritual reflection, and reconciliation.
· Gadaa System: An integral ritual within the traditional Oromo governance and social structure.
Oromo Literacy Day: Celebrating the Power of Stories Held in Oromia
By Maatii Sabaa
—
Every year, Oromo Literacy Day is more than a date on a calendar—it’s a living tribute to the resilience of a people and their language. It celebrates Afaan Oromoo, a language that carries the weight of history, the songs of ancestors, and the dreams of a nation. But how did the Oromo people arrive at this moment, where their stories can finally be written, read, and shared with the world? The answer lies in a long and courageous journey toward literacy.
A Written History of Resistance and Revival
The story of Oromo literacy is one of relentless struggle. The Oromo people have long possessed a rich oral tradition, but for much of Ethiopia’s modern history, their language was marginalized. It was a household language—spoken, sung, and whispered—but rarely seen on paper . The first major push to change this came in the late 19th and early 20th centuries.
A pivotal figure was Onesimos Nasib, an Oromo freed from slavery who trained as a teacher in Sweden. Upon his return, he and his colleague Aster Ganno worked with an almost missionary zeal to promote literacy in Afaan Oromoo. Onesimos created the Oromo Reader, a book filled with stories that were “short and funny” and designed to be both accessible and engaging. His aim was not just religious instruction but to cultivate a love for reading itself . He would famously ask young people he met, “Can you read and write?” and persuade them of its immense value .
However, their work met fierce opposition from the imperial government. In the mid-1940s, the Haile Selassie regime placed a total ban on Oromo literature . The language was effectively erased from public life, becoming a symbol of defiance.
The Quest for the Perfect Script
The suppression only intensified the desire for a written Oromo. The question of how to write the language became a central point of debate. Early works, like those of Onesimos, used the Ge’ez alphabet. But many activists and intellectuals believed this script was inadequate for Oromo sounds, failing to represent vowel length and consonant gemination—features that change a word’s meaning .
In the 1960s, the movement for a new script gained momentum. At Addis Ababa University, Oromo students began printing the first newspaper in Afaan Oromoo, Kana Beektaa? (“Do you know this?”), in 1968. The paper was a bold act of cultural preservation, collecting “Oromo songs, proverbs, war and grievance chants, Oromo prophecies, nuptials, baby lullabies, and others” . This was more than journalism—it was a declaration of identity. The paper was short-lived, forced to cease publication in 1971 .
Simultaneously, Oromo students in Europe were rigorously debating the script question. In 1968, a study group led by figures like Haile Fidaa concluded that a modified Latin alphabet was the most practical and linguistically sound choice for Oromo . This decision was not just technical; it was a political act of resistance, rejecting a script associated with the establishment.
A New Dawn: The Adoption of Qubee
After years of struggle, the fall of the military Derg regime in 1991 brought a turning point. The new Ethiopian constitution granted greater autonomy to regional states. Oromo was finally made the official language of the Oromia Regional State .
The Latin-based alphabet, known as Qubee, was officially adopted for writing Oromo . This was a victory decades in the making. The script’s simplicity and adaptability to modern technology made it a practical choice for a language finally stepping into the digital age. As one study noted, Qubee “enabled the language to grow faster as the script can be learned easily” .
However, the adoption was not without controversy. For some, the Ethiopic script held deep cultural significance, and the switch to a Latin alphabet was seen as an emotional and political break . Yet for the majority, Qubee represented liberation.
The Stories That Endure
The adoption of Qubee unlocked a literary explosion. Oromo youth and intellectuals began producing “newspapers, magazines, novels, translations and plays that describe their nation and their state in Afaan Oromoo” . Stories once confined to memory were now printed, preserved, and shared.
The journey has also involved recovering alternative scripts. A fascinating chapter is the story of Sheek Bakrii Saphaloo, a scholar who created a unique indigenous Oromo script. He developed an abugida, a writing system where each base glyph has multiple vocalic components, making it distinct from both the Ge’ez and Latin alphabets . This script has been used for over 70 years and is now being considered for digital preservation and inclusion in Unicode, highlighting the deep connection between literacy and cultural identity .
Why Oromo Literacy Day Matters
Oromo Literacy Day is a celebration of this entire journey. It honors the tenacity of Onesimos Nasib, the courage of student activists, and the vision of scholars who fought to give their language a written form. It is a day to recognize that literacy is not just about reading and writing; it is about power, identity, and survival.
The stories held in Oromia are now written down for the world to see. This day celebrates their liberation and their enduring power.
—
“The stories, with the exception of a couple of martyr stories, are short and funny, and the subjects vary in order to attract.” — Onesimos Nasib on the Oromo Reader
—
Maatii Sabaa is a writer and advocate of the Oromo stories.
Under the Odaa Tree: The Living Legacy of the Ituu Oromo
In the highlands of eastern Oromia, the roots of the Odaa tree (sycamore fig) stretch deep into the earth, just as the traditions of the Oromo people extend into the fabric of history. Among the most storied branches of the Oromo nation is the Ituu, a community whose identity is woven from the threads of ancient lineage, a sophisticated socio-political system, and a resilient spirit of justice. To understand the Ituu is to journey into the heart of the Oromo civilization, where the past is not merely remembered but lived.
The Ancestral Tree: From Murawwaa to Ituu
The Ituu are not a people without a past; they are a clear and significant branch on the vast Oromo genealogical tree. According to both oral tradition and contemporary scholarship, the lineage flows from Oromoo to Bareentuu (or Bareentuma), then to Murawwaa, and from Murawwaa springs the Ituu. A 2026 study by Jimma University confirms this ancestral link, placing Ituu firmly within the Murawwaa Barentuu family.
The Ituu themselves are divided into two primary clans, forming the backbone of their social structure:
- Galaan, with sub-clans such as Baabboo, Gaadullaa, and Elelle.
- Kurraa (Kuraa), with sub-clans such as Baayee, Addaayyo, Arroojjii, and Waayyee.
This is just one layer of a complex organizational system. Under the Gulantaa Odaa or Tumaa Heeraa (customary law), the Ituu are further organized into two major houses: Mana-Ituu (the House of Ituu) and Mana-Baabboo (the House of Baabboo). This dual structure underscores that for the Ituu, identity is a multi-faceted concept, governed by both bloodline and law.
Gadaa: The Soul of Oromo Governance
For the Ituu, as for all Oromo, the Gadaa system is the lifeblood of their society. It is far more than a political structure; it is a comprehensive philosophy that governs every aspect of life. It provides a framework for:
- Political Leadership: A system of elected officials with fixed terms, ensuring a democratic transfer of power.
- Justice (Heera): A legal system that predates modern courts, offering a way to resolve disputes and maintain order.
- Peace (Araara): A defined process for reconciliation and conflict resolution.
- Social Organization: A structure that defines the roles and responsibilities of individuals within the community.
- Spiritual Life: A connection to the divine and the natural world through rituals.
Odaa Bultum: The Parliament of the People
Central to the Ituu and wider Barentuu Oromo history is Odaa Bultum. This site in Hararghe served as a colossal Gadaa assembly center, a place where the community would gather to make laws, elect leaders, and settle disputes. It was the “parliament” under the shade of the Odaa tree, where the echoes of debate and the spirit of democracy were cultivated for generations.
Here, the voices of the people were heard through the Caffee (assembly), and the foundation of their society—Heera (law)—was debated and set. It was a place where the spiritual and the political converged to build a cohesive society.
Gumaa: A Path from Bloodshed to Brotherhood
Perhaps the most profound expression of Ituu culture is the institution of Gumaa. Often translated simply as “blood compensation,” Gumaa is actually a complex, restorative justice system. A 2026 Jimma University study highlights its true purpose: it is not solely about retribution but about reconciliation.
Gumaa is a process that transforms conflict, seeking to stop the cycle of violence and reintegrate offenders back into the community. It is a testament to the Ituu belief that even in the face of grave wrongs, the ultimate goal is peace and social harmony. The system includes specific legal frameworks such as Heera Diinoo, Heera Amboo, and Heera Danuu.
The Rituals and the Voices of the People
The cultural life of the Ituu is rich with ceremony. The Korbeessaa–Goromtii ritual, for instance, involved the sacrifice of goats to invoke peace, seek victory in conflict, and predict social and natural outcomes. It was a way of seeking divine guidance for the community’s journey.
Importantly, the Ituu social structure also features a powerful institution for women: Siiqqee. This is not merely a tradition but a social force that gave women a formal voice in matters of justice, peace, and reconciliation. It stands as a powerful testament to the Oromo society’s recognition of the vital role of women in maintaining social order and integrity.
A Living Tradition
Today, the Ituu Oromo stand at a crossroads of history. Their traditional systems—the Gadaa, the Heera, and the Gumaa—are not relics of a bygone era. They are living institutions that continue to provide a framework for justice and identity in a rapidly changing world. The genealogy from Murawwaa to Ituu is not just a list of names but a testament to a civilization that built a sophisticated society rooted in democracy, justice, and a profound respect for community.
The story of the Ituu is a story of resilience—a reminder that the roots of the Odaa tree, and the culture it represents, are deep and enduring.
Sources:
- Boru Musa Burka & Jira Mekonnen Choroke, “Gumaa beyond Compensation,” Gadaa Journal, 2026.
- Boru Musa Burqa & Dejene Gemechu Chala, “Korbeessaa-Goromtii Ritual,” Gadaa Journal, 2022.
- Admasu Feleke & Deressa Debu, “Oromo Historical Heritage: Historical Significance of Odaa Bultum Gadaa Assembly,” Jimma University.
A New Chapter in Storytelling: African Australians Take the Mic
(ONA, 1 September 2026)-In a powerful step towards reshaping Australia’s cultural landscape, the Victorian Multicultural Commission, in partnership with Blacksand Pictures, recently hosted a community consultation with Victoria’s African Australian community. The focus? Media representation, authentic storytelling, and the urgent need for African Australians to control their own narratives.
The message was clear: the time for passive representation is over. Australian media must create meaningful opportunities for African Australians to tell their own stories, in their own voices. This isn’t just about checking diversity boxes—it’s about building a media landscape where lived experiences are portrayed with depth, nuance, and authenticity .
This need for self-representation is not new. Mimo Mukii, an emerging producer and filmmaker, began their filmmaking journey researching the necessity of African Australian self-representation in media. As Mukii observes, “It is getting better. But there are still barriers for people to get into the industry. Big companies, broadcasters, governments, whatever—taking a risk on emerging storytellers is—I think—what’s going to change that” .
The community consultation set the stage for exactly that kind of risk-taking.
A Feast of Stories
Following the discussion, attendees were treated to the premiere of Tastes of Africa, a three-part documentary series that celebrates the rich cultural heritage of African cuisine and its diaspora in Melbourne.
Produced by Blacksand Pictures’ Kauthar Abdulalim and written and directed by Rendah Haj, the series takes viewers on a sensory journey through Melbourne’s kitchens, community cook-ups, and hidden eateries . Hosted by Zambian-born filmmaker, historian, and author Santilla Chingaipe—recognised by the United Nations as one of the most influential people of African descent in the world in 2019—the series weaves together observational documentary and intimate first-person narration .
Viewers are guided by the traditional wisdom of African aunties, while also seeing younger African Australians boldly reinterpreting recipes for a new generation. As Kauthar Abdulalim explains, “Tastes of Africa reflects the kind of storytelling Blacksand Pictures is committed to culturally grounded, audience-facing, and globally resonant. This series celebrates African Australian communities with intimacy and joy, while creating space for stories that have long been underrepresented in Australia’s factual landscape”.
Supported by principal production funding from Screen Australia, in association with VicScreen, the series marks a significant investment in African Australian storytelling. Distribution partner African Australian will make the series available to audiences on YouTube, with plans for an international screening tour across Africa later in the year.
Building Momentum
The community consultation and Tastes of Africa premiere are part of a broader movement to amplify African Australian voices. Initiatives like the African Australian Creative Media Grants, administered by Ubuntu Project, provide $10,000 grants to support platform development and content creation by African Australian creatives. These grants are helping to build a sustainable storytelling ecosystem, enabling individuals and organisations to create, distribute, and market their work.
As African Professionals of Australia noted upon being named among grant recipients, this support is “critical” for “amplifying the voices, stories, and innovation of African Australians across media and the arts”.
What’s Next
A summary report from the community consultation, prepared by @cinespace_inc, will be released soon. In the meantime, audiences can watch the first episode of Tastes of Africa on YouTube now by following @blacksandpictures and @africanaustralian.
As Mimo Mukii reflects, creating authentic representation requires institutional support and a willingness to take risks on emerging storytellers. With projects like Tastes of Africa and growing community-led initiatives, Victoria is proving that when African Australians tell their own stories, everyone benefits. The future of Australian storytelling is more diverse, more authentic, and more delicious than ever.
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Stay tuned: Follow @cinespace_inc for the upcoming summary report from the community consultation. Watch Tastes of Africa on YouTube via @blacksandpictures and @africanaustralian.
The Name and the Narrative: Reclaiming Oromo Identity Beyond “Habesha”
In the complex tapestry of the Horn of Africa, few threads are as deeply woven—or as fiercely contested—as the question of identity. For centuries, labels have been applied, histories have been written, and narratives have been constructed, often by those in power. But what happens when a people rise to say, “That name is not ours”?
A powerful statement from within the Oromo community cuts to the very heart of this question: “Habashaan jecha eenyummaa Oromoo ibsuu miti. Oromoon Habashaa miti.” This translates to: “‘Habesha’ does not express Oromo identity. An Oromo is not Habesha.” This is not a simple rejection of a label; it is a profound declaration of a distinct historical narrative, a reclamation of selfhood, and a bold assertion of a people’s independent journey through time and across the land they call home.
The Power of a Name
The term “Habesha” has historically served as a broad, unifying identifier for the peoples of the Ethiopian highlands, often associated with the ancient Aksumite civilization, the Orthodox Christian faith, and Semitic languages. For many, it is a term of pride, symbolizing a shared, ancient heritage.
However, for the Oromo people—the largest ethnic group in Ethiopia—this label often feels foreign and exclusionary. The assertion “Oromoon Habashaa miti” directly challenges the notion that “Habesha” is an all-encompassing term for all Ethiopians. Instead, it argues that the term is culturally and historically specific to a particular group and that it has been inaccurately and unfairly imposed upon the Oromo nation.
This rejection is a vital act of self-affirmation. It is a declaration that Oromo identity, with its own ancient traditions, its own language (Afaan Oromo), and its own sophisticated governance system (the Gadaa system), is independent and deserving of recognition on its own terms. It is a way of saying, “We are not a footnote in someone else’s history; we have our own story to tell.”
A Shared Journey: Revisiting the Origins
The second part of the statement offers a specific historical perspective on this shared geography: “Habashaan jecha Yaman irraa warra Abyssinia ofiin jedhan waliin gara biyya Oromoo-Oromiyaatti dhufee dha.” (“Habesha came to the land of Oromo-Oromia from Yemen together with those who call themselves Abyssinian.”)
This presents a powerful and deliberate counternarrative to the dominant historical accounts of the region. By asserting that both the ancestors of the “Abyssinians” and the Oromo people migrated into the region from a shared origin, this perspective challenges the traditional narrative that often places one group as indigenous and the other as later arrivals.
This framing redefines the historical relationship between the two communities. It moves the Oromo from a position of being perceived as “others” or “newcomers” in their own homeland to being co-architects of the region’s history. It suggests a shared, albeit not necessarily harmonious, arrival and cohabitation, thereby establishing an equal and ancient claim to the land of Oromia. This is a crucial point, as it aims to dismantle historical hierarchies and assert that the Oromo are not intruders but are, in fact, foundational to the region’s story.
The Land of Oromia: More Than a Place
This assertion of identity is intrinsically tied to a specific territory: Oromia. This vast and diverse region, stretching from the highlands to the lowlands, is the historic and ancestral homeland of the Oromo people. By connecting the narrative of arrival directly to “the land of Oromo-Oromia,” the statement anchors Oromo identity in a tangible, sacred geography.
It is a powerful reminder that identity is not an abstract concept; it is rooted in the mountains, rivers, and plains where a people’s history was lived and written. For the Oromo, the struggle for identity is inseparable from the struggle for their cultural, political, and territorial rights within Oromia. Declaring that the “Habesha” came to their land, and not the other way around, is a profound reclamation of both history and territory.
A Continuing Dialogue
The statement provided is a potent contribution to an ongoing and essential conversation about identity, history, and power in the Horn of Africa. It challenges the monolithic narratives that have often dominated the national discourse and demands a more inclusive, accurate, and multi-vocal understanding of the past.
For the Oromo people, the declaration “Oromoon Habashaa miti” is not an act of division, but one of definition. It is a call to be seen, understood, and respected on their own terms. It opens a vital dialogue about how history is written, who gets to write it, and how we can build a future that honors the full and complex story of all the peoples in the region. The debate over identity is far from settled, but it is a debate that is crucial for any nation seeking to forge a just and inclusive future.
UNDERSTANDING THE TRAUMA TREE
Why Addressing Symptoms Alone Isn’t Enough
🌳 “We can take off the leaves, but the tree keeps growing until we get to the root.”
This powerful metaphor reveals a truth that modern mental health care is only beginning to fully embrace: that true healing from trauma requires more than just managing symptoms. It demands that we dig deeper—right down to the roots.
The numbers tell a sobering story. Research shows that 70% of individuals experience trauma at some point in their lives. Yet for far too many, the path to recovery remains frustratingly elusive. Why? Because we have been treating the leaves while ignoring the roots.
THE LEAVES – HOW TRAUMA MANIFESTS
Trauma does not announce itself with a single, obvious signal. Instead, it manifests in a tangled canopy of symptoms that can be as bewildering as they are debilitating.
Hypervigilance and anxiety – The body remains on high alert, scanning for danger even in the safest environments. The nervous system, once triggered, struggles to return to calm.
Flashbacks and nightmares – The past refuses to stay in the past. Traumatic memories intrude without warning, forcing the individual to relive moments of terror again and again.
Panic attacks and dissociation – The mind and body disconnect. Some feel as though they are watching themselves from outside their own body. Others experience overwhelming waves of terror that seem to come from nowhere.
Depression and emotional numbing – Feeling nothing becomes a defence mechanism. The heart hardens to protect itself, but in doing so, it also loses the capacity for joy, connection, and hope.
Substance abuse and insomnia – Sleep becomes a battleground. Substances offer a temporary escape, but they also deepen the wound, creating a cycle of dependency that further obscures the underlying pain.
These are the leaves. They are visible. They are painful. And they demand attention.
But treating symptoms alone leads to temporary relief—not true healing. The leaves may be trimmed, but the tree continues to grow, fed by hidden forces beneath the surface.
WHAT FEEDS THE TREE – BARRIERS TO HEALING
If the leaves are symptoms, what nourishes the tree and keeps it alive? What prevents healing from taking root?
Stigma and labelling – Society often reduces trauma survivors to their symptoms. “You’re just anxious.” “You’re depressed.” “You need to get over it.” These labels, however well-intentioned, can become self-fulfilling prophecies. They define the person by their struggle rather than their resilience.
Lack of trauma-informed treatment – Many therapeutic approaches still focus on managing behaviour rather than understanding its origins. Without a framework that acknowledges the pervasive impact of trauma, treatment can feel like rearranging deck chairs on the Titanic.
Misdiagnosis and limited support – Trauma symptoms often mimic other conditions. Depression, anxiety disorders, and even ADHD can be misdiagnosed when the root cause—trauma—remains unidentified. Limited access to appropriate mental health services compounds the problem, leaving many to navigate their recovery alone.
These are the soil conditions that allow the trauma tree to thrive. Change the soil, and you change the tree.
THE ROOTS – ORIGINAL TRAUMA
To truly heal, we must go where the pain began.
Childhood abuse and neglect – The earliest wounds often cut the deepest. When a child’s developing brain is exposed to chronic stress or betrayal, it shapes the architecture of their nervous system, setting patterns that persist into adulthood.
Accidents and medical trauma – A single moment can change everything. Car crashes, serious injuries, and terrifying medical procedures can leave lasting psychological scars that are often overlooked.
War, terrorism, and violence – For survivors of conflict, the trauma is not a single event but a sustained assault on the sense of safety and humanity. The effects ripple across generations.
Natural disasters and grief – Loss on a massive scale, whether through earthquake, flood, or pandemic, shatters the illusion that we are safe in our world. Grief becomes complicated when it is intertwined with collective trauma.
Systemic oppression and discrimination – For marginalised communities, trauma is not an isolated experience but a chronic reality. Racism, sexism, homophobia, and other forms of oppression create ongoing wounds that demand healing at both the individual and societal levels.
These are the roots. They are deep. They are tangled. And they are often hidden from view.
But evidence shows trauma-informed interventions address both the symptoms AND the root causes, leading to real recovery and improved wellbeing for those struggling with PTSD, anxiety, and depression.
THE PATH TO ROOT-LEVEL HEALING
True healing requires a shift in perspective. It means moving from “What is wrong with you?” to “What happened to you?” It means recognising that symptoms are not weaknesses but adaptations—the mind’s way of protecting itself from overwhelming pain.
Trauma-informed care offers a different approach. It asks:
- Safety first – Healing cannot begin without a sense of physical and emotional safety.
- Choice and control – Trauma strips away agency. Recovery restores it.
- Collaboration – Healer and client walk together, not as expert and patient, but as partners.
- Trustworthiness – Transparency and consistency rebuild the trust that trauma shattered.
- Empowerment – The goal is not to fix the person but to help them reclaim their strength.
READY TO FINALLY ADDRESS TRAUMA AT THE ROOTS?
The journey to healing is not easy. It is not linear. But it is possible.
For those ready to begin, the “You Are Not Broken” Trauma Healing Workbook for Beginners offers a gentle, evidence-based guide to genuine emotional healing. Designed by trauma therapists, this workbook provides:
- Practical exercises for understanding trauma responses
- Grounding techniques for managing symptoms
- Guided reflections to explore the roots of pain
- A compassionate framework for self-discovery and recovery
The leaves can be trimmed. The soil can be nourished. The roots can be healed.
Start your journey today.
#TraumaHealing #TraumaInformedCare #MentalHealthRecovery #PTSD #EmotionalHealing
Image Credit – Unknown
📖 Featured Article
Understanding the Trauma Tree: A Clinical Perspective
The metaphor of the trauma tree is more than poetic imagery—it is grounded in neuroscience and clinical practice. When trauma occurs, it impacts the brain’s fear circuitry, particularly the amygdala, hippocampus, and prefrontal cortex. The “leaves” we see—hypervigilance, flashbacks, dissociation—are direct expressions of this rewired nervous system.
Treating only these symptoms without addressing the underlying trauma is like repeatedly taking painkillers for a broken leg. The pain may temporarily subside, but the bone remains unhealed.
Trauma-informed therapy, by contrast, works to rewire the brain’s response to threat. Through approaches such as EMDR, somatic experiencing, and cognitive processing therapy, individuals can process traumatic memories, integrate them into their life story, and reduce their power over the present moment.
The “roots” of trauma often lie in attachment wounds—relationships that should have been safe but were instead a source of danger. Healing these roots involves rebuilding the capacity for trust, connection, and self-compassion.
Remember: You are not broken. You are wounded. And wounds, with the right care, can heal.
This article is part of a series on trauma-informed mental health care. For more resources, follow our page and join the conversation on trauma recovery, resilience, and healing.
Advocacy for Oromia 