Category Archives: Election
Beyond the Pitch: The One Powerful Move Every Community Can Make This Year
By Dabessa Wakjira
The roar of the crowd, the electric atmosphere, the shared chants echoing through stadiums and living rooms—the FIFA World Cup 2026™ has once again proven that when people unite around a common passion, magic happens. On the pitch, players execute perfect passes; in the stands, strangers embrace like lifelong friends. Across SBS platforms and community gatherings, Australians from every conceivable background have dissolved their differences in favor of a single, unifying language: the beautiful game.
Yet, as the final whistle blows and the stadium lights dim, a new opportunity is kicking off—one that requires the same level of energy, teamwork, and civic participation to ensure the future of our multicultural nation.
Participation is one of the most powerful ways we contribute to our communities. And right now, the Census 2026 is calling on all of us to get on the field.
The Lineup for Our Future
Just as every player has a role in a winning team, every individual has a part to play in building a representative Australia. The Census 2026 is more than just a bureaucratic formality; it is a powerful snapshot of our nation’s diverse fabric. The data collected within its pages influences decisions that impact our daily lives—where hospitals are built, how schools are funded, where public transport routes run, and how future planning unfolds.
David Hua, Director of Audio and Language Content at the Special Broadcasting Service (SBS), emphasizes the necessity of communal engagement. “Participation is one of the most powerful ways we contribute to our communities,” Hua states. “By taking part and encouraging others to do the same, we help ensure Australia’s diverse communities are represented, recognized and supported.”
Why “Showing Up” Matters
When communities actively participate in the Census, they do more than just check a box. They build the evidence needed for better services and stronger advocacy. Data translates into dollars and policy. It determines whether your suburb gets a new aged-care facility, whether your language group receives translation services at local hospitals, and whether your cultural events receive government support.
Every voice matters. Every response counts. Every community deserves to be seen.
But what if you’re hesitant?
Tackling the Fears
It is completely normal—and understandable—for individuals to feel uncomfortable sharing personal information. This sentiment is particularly prevalent in communities that might have had varied or difficult experiences dealing with governments in the past. Concerns about data security, privacy breaches, and how information will be used are legitimate and should not be dismissed.
This is where community leaders and organizations step in as the ultimate referees.
SBS, through its trusted platforms, is working to ensure that no one is left in the dark. Initiatives like SBS Learn English are designed to equip people with practical ways to talk about the Census. They provide clarity on data security measures, offer step-by-step guides on protecting personal information, and help demystify the process for those who feel excluded by language barriers.
Your Call to Action
This year, we invite you to channel the same spirit that fills the World Cup stadiums into completing your Census form. But don’t stop there—become a champion for your community. Encourage your neighbors, your sports club, your faith group, and your extended family to participate as well.
The 2026 Census isn’t just about counting numbers; it’s about ensuring every story is heard.
By taking part and sharing this vital information with your networks, you are helping to build a stronger, fairer, and more inclusive Australia. Let’s make sure everyone has the opportunity to be counted, supported, and recognized.
The game doesn’t end on the pitch. It continues with us, in our homes, and in our communities.
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For more information and resources, including support for data security and language assistance, visit the official Census 2026 website or tune into SBS.
Bridging Continents, Building a Nation: OLF/ABO Annual Dialogue Heads to Minnesota
By Maatii Sabaa
As the autumn leaves begin to turn across the American Midwest, a familiar and powerful rhythm stirs within the Oromo diaspora. In just a few weeks, Minnesota—often affectionately called “Little Oromia” for hosting one of the largest Oromo populations outside of East Africa—will become the epicenter of a movement that refuses to fade. The Oromo Liberation Front (OLF/ABO) is set to hold its annual dialogue, a cornerstone tradition that weaves together strategy, solidarity, and the unyielding pursuit of self-determination.
The announcement is more than a calendar entry; it is a declaration. The tradition continues.
A Gathering of Purpose
For decades, the Oromo people have carried the weight of marginalization, yet they have also carried the tools of resistance. The OLF/ABO has been at the forefront of this resistance, and its annual dialogue represents a critical moment of reckoning and renewal. Leaders, intellectuals, activists, and everyday community members will converge in Minnesota to take stock of the movement’s progress, confront pressing challenges in the homeland, and chart a course for the year ahead.
But what makes this year’s event particularly noteworthy is its inclusivity. Organizers have extended a rare and welcoming invitation: the final day of the dialogue will be open to all Oromo Community members. This decision transforms a closed-door political meeting into a celebration of collective identity. It is a recognition that the struggle for Oromia’s liberation is not confined to the political elite—it belongs to the farmer in the countryside, the mother in the diaspora, the student in the university, and the elder who remembers a homeland before displacement.
Why Minnesota?
The choice of Minnesota is no accident. Over the past three decades, the state has become a sanctuary and a springboard for Oromo activism. From the bustling neighborhoods of Minneapolis to the suburban cities of St. Paul, Oromo culture thrives—through language, music, faith, and political organization. Holding the annual dialogue here acknowledges the diaspora not as a distant bystander, but as a vital pillar of the liberation project.
In this space, the past meets the present. Elders who witnessed the early days of the OLF sit alongside youth born in the West, forging an intergenerational bond that strengthens the movement’s resilience. It is a living classroom where history is taught, grievances are voiced, and hope is rekindled.
Consistency and Determination: The Unshakeable Foundation
The flyer circulating among community groups carries a powerful mantra: “As always, consistency and determination remain the foundation of lasting progress and success.”
These words are not empty rhetoric. In the long and often brutal struggle for Oromo self-determination, fads and fleeting passions have no place. What sustains the movement is the dogged, day-in and day-out commitment of a people who refuse to be erased. The annual dialogue is the embodiment of this ethic. It is a ritual of endurance—a moment to recalibrate, to reaffirm, and to recommit.
Consistency means showing up, year after year, regardless of the political winds. Determination means turning setbacks into stepping stones. The OLF/ABO has weathered imprisonment, exile, and state-sponsored repression, yet here it stands, preparing to convene once again in the heart of America. That is the quiet power of persistence.
An Open Door to the Community
The decision to open the final day to all Oromo community members is a strategic and symbolic masterstroke. It breaks down barriers between leadership and the grassroots, ensuring that the dialogue is not an ivory tower but a public square. It invites critical feedback, fresh perspectives, and the energy of those who may not hold formal titles but carry the daily lived experience of Oromo identity.
Whether one is a long-time activist or a young professional attending for the first time, the final day promises to be a space of belonging. It is a chance to ask questions, share concerns, and witness firsthand the democratic spirit that the OLF/ABO champions. In a world where liberation movements often become opaque, this open-door policy is a beacon of transparency and trust.
The Cry That Echoes: IUOf! 
As the event draws near, social media feeds and community bulletin boards will fill with the colors of the Oromo flag—red, green, and red—a trinity of courage, hope, and sacrifice. And when the dialogue reaches its crescendo, the hall will undoubtedly erupt with the rallying cry: “IUOf!” Or Victory to Oromo people —a spirited abbreviation for the Oromo phrase that resonates across generations, declaring the unshakable belief in the Oromo nation’s future.
The red hearts speak to the blood shed for freedom. The green hearts speak to the fertile land of Oromia that awaits full restoration. Together, they form a visual prayer for justice.
A Tradition That Transcends Time
The annual dialogue is more than a political event; it is a cultural anchor. In a diaspora scattered across the globe, it provides a rare moment of physical convergence. It reminds the Oromo people that they are not isolated individuals but members of a vast, resilient family with a shared destiny.
As the final day opens its doors to all, the Oromo community in Minnesota and beyond will have the chance to witness history in the making. The tradition continues—not as a relic of the past, but as a dynamic, living force that charts the path toward a free and sovereign Oromia.
So mark the date, spread the word, and prepare to gather. The dialogue awaits. The struggle endures. And as always, it is consistency and determination that will carry the Oromo people across the finish line.
IUOf!
The Unseen Work and the Unyielding Bloom: How the Oromo Struggle Flourishes Beyond the Enemy’s Gaze
By Daandii Ragabaa
While the enemies of Oromia may have closed their eyes and convinced themselves that the OLF/ABO had faded into irrelevance, the ground beneath their feet has been shifting all along. The struggle for Oromo liberation has never been a spectacle performed for the approval of adversaries; it is a quiet, relentless tide that reshapes the landscape even when the world is not watching. Today, as the movement reflects on its journey, one truth stands undeniable: the work has continued, the fruits have multiplied, and the foundation of Oromo nationhood has never been stronger.
The Myth of Stagnation
There is a dangerous assumption that silence equals surrender. For years, the detractors of Oromo freedom have pointed to periods of tactical recalibration and claimed that the cause was dead. They were wrong. As the reflection reminds us, “Diinonni Oromoo otuu hin beekiin hojiilee ABO hojjataa ture”—the enemies were unaware of the work being done. The OLF/ABO did not vanish; it adapted. It built. It planted seeds that are now breaking through the concrete of oppression.
The struggle is not a straight line; it is a winding river that carves canyons over time. There have been moments of setback, times when the fighters themselves stumbled into unfamiliar terrain. “Yeroo garii qabsaa’oti waan muuxannoo itti hin qabneef danqamuun ifaa dha.” To be hindered, to face the unknown, is a natural and illuminating part of any liberation journey. But the reflection makes a critical distinction: “Danqamuun garuu qabsoo irraa yeroof duubatti deebi’uu malee qabsoo dhiisuu jechuu miti.”
Setbacks are not stop signs; they are detours. Retreating for a moment to assess, regroup, and strike with greater intelligence is not defeat—it is the hallmark of a movement that intends to win, not just to survive.
The Tangible Fruits of an Unyielding Will
While critics focused on imagined weaknesses, the Oromo struggle was quietly accumulating victories that cannot be erased. The reflection catalogs these achievements with a quiet, earned pride:
Oromia has risen. No longer can the oppressor pretend that Oromia is an abstraction. It is a recognized entity, a homeland with a name that commands respect and a history that demands justice. “Oromiyaan bobaa diinaa jalaa bahee beekamee jira.” The nation has emerged from under the shadow of denial into the light of international and domestic recognition.
The language has taken its rightful place. Afaan Oromoo, once relegated to the margins of private life, now stands tall as a language of instruction and government work. “Afaan Oromoo afaan barnootaa fi hojii mootummaa ta’eera.” This is not a small concession; it is a revolutionary shift. When a people’s tongue becomes the language of the classroom and the office, the soul of that people is officially acknowledged.
The script lives. “Qubeen Afaan Oromoo kan Afaan Oromoo ittiin barsiisan ta’eera.” The Oromo alphabet—once banned, once erased—is now actively used to teach children the beauty of their own heritage. Alphabetization is liberation. To read in one’s mother tongue is to reclaim the mind from colonial subjugation.
The flag waves undefeated. “Alaabaan Oromoo mallattoo diddaa fi bilisummaa qabsoo Oromoo ta’ee beekamee jira.” The Oromo flag is no longer a secret symbol of insurgency; it is a recognized emblem of resistance and freedom. It flies at gatherings, in diaspora halls, and in the hearts of millions. It is the colors of a nation that refuses to be renamed.
The Bloom of the Seed
The reflection speaks of a beautiful and profound transformation: “Akkanaan sanyiin bilisummaa facaafamee daraaree hundee sabboonummaa Oromoo fi Oromummaa ta’aa jira.”
The seeds of freedom, scattered across the difficult soil of the struggle, are now blossoming. They are taking root in the very foundations of Oromo identity and nationhood. This is not a fleeting victory; it is a generational shift. The Oromo people are witnessing the flowering of what their ancestors sacrificed for. The identity is no longer just a memory—it is a living, breathing reality that grows stronger with each passing day.
The Sacred Duty of Continuation
Yet, the reflection is not a song of complacency. It carries a sobering and determined promise: “Kun haga hireen murteeffannaa ummata Oromoo dhugoomutti jabaatee kan itti fufu ta’a.”
This journey will continue—vigorously, unapologetically, and with increasing momentum—until the fundamental rights of the Oromo people are fully realized. Until self-determination is not a demand but a fact. Until the land of Oromia is governed by the will of its own children.
The current chapter of the struggle is not an anomaly; it is the direct product of that unyielding resolve. “Waanti amna qabsoo keessatti argaa jirrus dhugaadhuma kana.” What we see today is the pure, unadulterated truth of a people who refused to kneel.
A Legacy of Resistance, A Future of Justice
“Qabsoon Bilisummaa fi haqa Oromoo kabachiisuuf yoomiyyuu jabatee itti fufa; hireen murteeffannaa ummata Oromoof godhamus kan wareegama keenyaan dhugoomuu dha.”
The struggle to honor the freedom and justice of Oromia will continue with unwavering strength—forever and always. The rights that the Oromo people are fighting for are not gifts to be begged for; they are inherent truths to be realized. And the fulfillment of those rights is not merely a political ambition; it is a sacred trust, a responsibility that falls upon the shoulders of every Oromo, whether in the homeland or in the far reaches of the diaspora.
The enemies may have looked away. They may have assumed the work had stopped. But the Oromo people are digging deeper than ever, planting seeds that will outlast the oppressors, and building a nation that will stand for millennia.
The unseen work is now visible. The planted seeds are blooming. And the struggle, tested by fire and tempered by patience, marches ever forward—determined, consistent, and invincible.
IUOf!
The Political Boat Called “Tsimdo”: Where Are the Far-Right and Far-Left Extremists Steering It?
In the strange theater of modern politics, strange bedfellows emerge—temporary alliances born not of shared vision but of shared hatred
By Ibsaa Nagawoo
In the annals of modern political history, few phenomena are as remarkable—and as dangerous—as the spectacle of ideological opposites joining forces against a common enemy. The far-right and far-left, whose philosophies on economics, governance, and the role of the state stand in irreconcilable opposition, sometimes find themselves on the same side of a political struggle. Their alliance, however, is not built on shared principles or a common vision for the future. It is built on a single, fragile foundation: shared enmity.
This is the political boat called “Tsimdo” (or Cimdii)—a vessel that carries strange passengers, navigates treacherous waters, and ultimately leads nowhere good for anyone aboard.
The Strange Alliance
“One of the surprising phenomena in modern world politics is the emergence of forces that fundamentally oppose each other in their political philosophy, economic policies, and views on the role of government, yet temporarily unite against a common enemy.”
This is not a new phenomenon, but it is one that has become increasingly visible in recent years. The left and right, traditionally locked in ideological struggle, discover that their hatred for a particular leader, government, or political direction outweighs their differences. They form a temporary alliance—an “unholy coalition” that promises to overthrow the common enemy but offers no coherent vision for what should come after.
“However, such alliances are often short-lived because they are based not on shared vision and common political principles, but on shared animosity.”
This is the fatal flaw of these coalitions. They are unions of convenience, not conviction. They can tear down, but they cannot build. They can oppose, but they cannot propose. They can unite in hatred, but they cannot govern in peace.
Ethiopia’s Own Experience
“Both world history and Ethiopia’s political history provide many examples that confirm this.”
In recent years, Ethiopia has witnessed this phenomenon in stark relief. The conflict between the federal government and the TPLF, and the alliances that formed around it, created some of the most improbable political marriages in the country’s history.
“In Ethiopia, this trend has been clearly seen in recent years. One can observe and analyze the strange political alliances formed during the TPLF provocation, the war between the Federal Government of Ethiopia and the TPLF, and the resulting unconventional political marriages.”
Groups that had spent decades opposing each other—ideologically, politically, and sometimes militarily—found themselves on the same side of a conflict. The shared goal of removing the TPLF from power created a temporary unity that papered over fundamental disagreements about Ethiopia’s political future.
The Unholy Alliance Against Oromo Gains
“The far-right and far-left extremist forces that shed crocodile tears in the name of the Oromo people, the Amhara, the Tigray, and the Ethiopian people—no matter how strong their unholy alliance becomes—the Oromo people will not easily surrender the political, economic, and legal rights they have won through long struggle and years of sacrifice.”
This is the central warning of the reflection: the Oromo people, who have fought for generations to secure their rights, are not about to hand them over to an alliance of convenience—whether that alliance claims to speak for the Oromo or not.
“The matter has become one of survival. And the victory achieved is not something that can be stolen through temporary political pressure or false propaganda.”
The Oromo struggle is not a passing phase or a fleeting moment of political mobilization. It is a deep, sustained, and principled movement that has survived decades of repression, co-optation, and marginalization. It will not be undone by an alliance whose only common ground is opposition to Oromo self-determination.
The Blindness of Some Oromo
“As the struggle of the Oromo people within Ethiopia has been strengthening and registering some victories, some Oromo individuals and groups who could not see—or refused to believe—that organized anti-Oromo sentiment had been building for a long time, have failed to understand that the exaggerated political hatred, character assassination, and coordinated propaganda campaign against the reformist Prime Minister Dr. Abiy Ahmed is ultimately not just about Dr. Abiy but about the Oromo as a whole.”
This is a painful truth that some Oromo have been reluctant to face. The campaign against Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed is not merely a personal vendetta against one individual. It is an attack on Oromo leadership, Oromo gains, and Oromo aspirations. The fact that some Oromo have joined in this campaign, or remained silent in the face of it, is a betrayal of the Oromo cause.
“Only they themselves can answer why this happened.”
The reflection leaves this question hanging in the air, inviting self-examination. Why have some Oromo joined forces with those who fundamentally oppose Oromo rights? Why have some remained silent when anti-Oromo rhetoric has reached dangerous levels? Why have some failed to see that the attack on one Oromo leader is an attack on all Oromo?
The Washington Statement and Its Aftermath
“There is one thing we all cannot forget. The statement by the international Fano ‘intellectuals’ that was read in Washington contained dangerous rhetoric: ‘We will return the Gallas to Madagascar.’ This is still being echoed by Mahayimannu Fano. This hate speech did not remain merely words—many believe it has found expression in acts of violence against innocent Oromo in various places, especially today in East Wollega and Dera.”
This is a chilling reminder of the stakes involved. The anti-Oromo rhetoric that has been circulating is not harmless—it has real-world consequences. Innocent Oromo people have been targeted, attacked, and killed. The words of hate have become acts of violence.
“The sad part is that some forces who call themselves ‘freedom fighters’ have silently covered up or overlooked this issue. This silence itself carries a major political message.”
The silence of those who claim to fight for freedom is deafening. When the self-proclaimed champions of liberation refuse to condemn violence against Oromo, they reveal their true priorities. Their silence is not neutrality—it is complicity.
The Poisoned Boat
“Some Oromo politicians and activists, having lost their own political direction, have found themselves unwittingly in the same political boat (Tsimbo) as Amhara extremist unitarist far-right extremists. Since this act conflicts with the common interest and political will of the Oromo people, it should be remembered as a political lesson and historical warning for generations.”
This is perhaps the most pointed criticism in the reflection: some Oromo have lost their way. They have abandoned the principles of Oromo liberation and joined forces with those who have historically opposed—and continue to oppose—Oromo rights.
“Any individual or political organization that organizes in the name of Oromo must distance itself from political ideologies, philosophies, and economic policies that divide the Oromo people. Any idea presented as a ‘political reality’ that weakens Oromo unity, if it conflicts with the interests of Oromia, Ethiopia, and the Oromo nation, should not be accepted.”
This is a clear call to Oromo political actors: know who you are, know what you stand for, and know who your true allies and enemies are. The lines must be drawn clearly. There is no room for ambiguity when the survival of the Oromo people is at stake.
A Call to Abandon the Boat
“Therefore, if you find yourself in this propaganda of organized anti-Oromo hatred, you should distance yourself from this destructive political boat (Tsimbo). This boat does not benefit the Oromo people—it represents hatred, division, and destructive ideologies. It is not too late to distance yourself from this extremist political direction; the beneficial thing is to stop it.”
This is a call to choose. A call to abandon the alliance of hatred and return to the principles of justice, self-determination, and unity. A call to recognize that the path of extremism leads nowhere good.
“It is not too late to distance yourself from this extremist political direction; the beneficial thing is to stop it.”
There is still time to turn back. There is still time to choose the path of dialogue, mutual respect, and peaceful political competition. There is still time to build rather than destroy.
The Role of External Forces
“Finally, this extremist political and war ‘Tsimbo’ is not just an internal problem—it can also be a tool for the interests and proxy wars of external forces, and it is targeted as such. Therefore, it does not bring lasting benefit to the Oromo, the Amhara, the Tigray, or other nations and nationalities, nor to the Ethiopian people in general.”
The reflection recognizes that the forces driving the “Tsimbo” are not purely domestic. External actors have their own interests in Ethiopia’s political landscape. They seek to exploit divisions, weaken the country, and advance their own agendas. The Tsimbo serves their purposes, not the purposes of the Ethiopian people.
“Therefore, I believe that abandoning this politics of hatred, division, and extremism and returning to dialogue, trust, and peaceful political competition is the beneficial path for everyone.”
This is a vision of hope: a return to politics as a means of resolving differences, not a weapon for destroying enemies. A return to the belief that dialogue and trust are possible. A return to the conviction that Ethiopia’s future will be built, not destroyed.
The Way Forward
“Ethiopia’s future destiny will not be found in an alliance based on hatred. The country’s lasting peace, stability, and democratic progress can only be ensured when they are based on constitutional supremacy, the rule of law, mutual respect, genuine democratic dialogue, and a shared national vision.”
This is the heart of the message: the future belongs not to those who hate, but to those who build. Not to those who divide, but to those who unite. Not to those who destroy, but to those who create.
“One truth, however, is clear: an alliance based on hatred may change a government, but it cannot build a country.”
This is a profound insight. The Tsimbo may succeed in its immediate objective—the removal of a particular leader or the overthrow of a particular government. But what then? What vision does it offer for the future? What principles will guide it? What foundation will it build upon?
The answer is: none. An alliance based solely on hatred can only destroy; it cannot create. It can tear down; it cannot build. It can oppose; it cannot govern.
Conclusion: A Choice to Make
The political boat called Tsimbo is a dangerous vessel. It carries those who have lost their way, those who have confused hatred for principle, those who have abandoned the struggle for justice in favor of the easier path of revenge.
But there is another path. The path of dialogue, trust, and peaceful political competition. The path that builds rather than destroys. The path that unites rather than divides. The path that leads to lasting peace, stability, and democracy.
The choice is clear. The time for choosing is now.
“An alliance based on hatred may change a government, but it cannot build a country.”
Let us choose to build. Let us choose to unite. Let us choose the path of peace, justice, and shared national vision.
May we all make the right choice.
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*The above feature article is based on the reflection of Ibsaa Nagawoo
The Weight of Struggle: Why We Must Honor, Not Diminish, the Oromo Journey
Those who have walked the long road—through displacement, persecution, and sacrifice—deserve our deepest respect, not our casual dismissal
There is a dangerous tendency in our time—a habit of diminishing the sacrifices of those who came before us. It is easy to dismiss the struggles of others when we have not walked in their shoes, easy to minimize their pain when we have not felt its weight, easy to judge their choices when we have not faced their impossible dilemmas.
The reflection before us offers a powerful corrective to this tendency. It calls us to recognize the immense journey that the Oromo people have traveled—the trials they have endured, the sacrifices they have made, and the dignity they have maintained despite everything.
A People on the Move
“Nama Oromoo bu’aa bahii hedduu keessa darbuun har’a gahe, xiqqeessuu fi salphisuun faayidaan argamu hin jiru; jiraatus yoo nutti hafe wayya.”
The Oromo person who has passed through many trials to reach today—there is no benefit in belittling or diminishing them. Even if something remains, it would be better if it were left to us.
This statement is a profound meditation on the relationship between generations. It recognizes that the Oromo people have endured extraordinary hardships—centuries of colonization, decades of cultural suppression, generations of displacement, and waves of brutal repression.
The Oromo who stand before us today are the products of that struggle. They carry the scars of battles fought long before we were born. They speak with voices that have known silence, cry with eyes that have seen too much, and hope with hearts that have been broken and rebuilt countless times.
To diminish them is to diminish ourselves. To belittle their achievements is to belittle the very foundation upon which we stand.
The Journey of Exile
“Oromoon hedduun imala godaansaa keessatti gidiraa hedduu keessa darban.”
Many Oromo have passed through great difficulties during their journey of displacement. The Oromo diaspora is not a story of voluntary migration—it is a story of flight, of seeking refuge from persecution, of leaving everything behind to preserve life itself.
The Oromo exile began long before the modern era. Generations of Oromo have been forced to flee their homeland—escaping war, famine, political repression, and the systematic destruction of their communities. They have crossed borders, oceans, and continents in search of safety.
This is not a journey of choice. It is a journey of survival. And every Oromo who has made this journey carries with them the weight of what they have lost and the hope of what they might yet find.
Trials by Fire
“Biyya baqannaa keessatti qormaata hedduuf saaxilanii darban.”
In the lands of refuge, they have faced countless trials. The experience of exile is not a simple escape from danger—it is an entry into new forms of struggle. Oromo refugees and migrants have faced xenophobia, discrimination, economic exploitation, cultural isolation, and the constant anxiety of uncertain legal status.
They have had to rebuild their lives from nothing—learning new languages, adapting to new cultures, accepting menial jobs that their education and skills should have surpassed. They have been separated from families, disconnected from communities, and forced to navigate systems that were never designed for them.
And yet they have persisted. They have built new communities in foreign lands. They have preserved their language, their culture, and their identity against all odds. They have sent remittances home to support the struggle. They have educated their children, established organizations, and kept the flame of Oromo identity burning bright.
The Danger of Diminishment
“Qormaata isaan mudatee fi keessa darban kan akka tasaa ykn beekaa nu harka gale baafnee ittiin isaan salphisuu fi xiqqeessuuf yaaluun akka naamusa hojiittis akka safuu hojiittis fudhatama hin qabu.”
To try to belittle and diminish the trials they have endured and passed through—by claiming that we have miraculously or knowingly achieved what they could not—is unacceptable as a matter of both professional ethics and moral decency.
The reflection speaks directly to a troubling phenomenon: the tendency of some to dismiss the struggles of earlier generations, to claim that they somehow would have done better, or to minimize the sacrifices that made current achievements possible.
This is not merely disrespectful—it is historically and morally wrong.
Those who walked the path before us faced challenges we cannot fully comprehend. They operated under conditions we have never experienced. They made choices with limited information and in impossible circumstances. Their achievements, whatever their limitations, are the foundation upon which our current position is built.
The Ethics of Respect
The reflection argues that belittling the struggles of others is unacceptable for two reasons:
First, as a matter of professional ethics—”naamusa hojii” —there is a standard of conduct that requires us to respect the work of those who came before. In any field, to dismiss the contributions of predecessors is to reject the very tradition that made our own work possible.
Second, as a matter of moral decency—”safuu hojii” —there is a basic human obligation to honor the sacrifices of others. To diminish someone’s suffering is a form of violence. To deny someone’s struggle is a form of erasure.
Those who have sacrificed for the Oromo cause deserve our gratitude, not our judgment. They deserve our respect, not our condescension. They deserve to be honored, not diminished.
Lessons for the Current Generation
The reflection offers several important lessons for those of us who inherit the legacy of the Oromo struggle:
1. Recognition: We must recognize that our current position—whatever it may be—is built upon the foundations laid by others. We did not create Oromo identity; we inherited it. We did not invent the Oromo struggle; we continue it.
2. Humility: We must approach the achievements of earlier generations with humility. We may have advantages they did not—better technology, more resources, greater international awareness—but we also face challenges they did not. Neither generation is superior; each has played its part.
3. Gratitude: We must be grateful for the sacrifices of those who came before. Every Oromo who can read and write in Afaan Oromo today owes a debt to those who risked imprisonment to publish in the language. Every Oromo who can express pride in their identity owes a debt to those who were tortured for doing the same.
4. Continuity: We must understand that we are part of a continuing story. The Oromo struggle did not begin with us, and it will not end with us. Our role is to carry forward the legacy, to build upon the foundations, and to pass on something better to those who will come after.
The Unfinished Journey
“Nama Oromoo bu’aa bahii hedduu keessa darbuun har’a gahe…”
The Oromo person who has passed through many trials to reach today—this is not a description of a completed journey. It is a description of a journey still underway.
The Oromo people are still struggling. They are still fighting for recognition, for rights, for self-determination. They are still facing oppression, discrimination, and violence. The fact that some have found refuge in other countries does not mean the struggle is over. The fact that some have achieved success in exile does not mean the homeland is free.
Each generation has its role to play. Each generation faces its own challenges. And each generation must honor the sacrifices of those who made its own achievements possible.
The Weight of Legacy
The reflection calls us to consider the weight of what we have inherited. The Oromo people have a long and painful history—a history of colonization, suppression, exile, and struggle. But it is also a history of resilience, resistance, cultural preservation, and hope.
When we diminish the struggles of those who came before, we diminish the entire Oromo story. When we belittle their achievements, we belittle the foundation upon which our own identity is built.
Instead, we should approach the Oromo journey with reverence—understanding that every scar tells a story, every sacrifice has meaning, and every achievement is a victory against overwhelming odds.
The Call to Unity
At its heart, this reflection is a call to unity—a call to recognize that we are all part of the same story, that we are all connected by the same struggle, that we all owe a debt to those who came before.
To dismiss the struggles of earlier generations is to divide the Oromo community. It is to create false hierarchies between generations. It is to claim that some are more authentic, more committed, or more deserving than others.
This is a dangerous path. It leads to fragmentation, resentment, and the weakening of the collective struggle. It serves only the interests of the oppressor, who benefits when the oppressed are divided.
Conclusion
“Nama Oromoo bu’aa bahii hedduu keessa darbuun har’a gahe, xiqqeessuu fi salphisuun faayidaan argamu hin jiru; jiraatus yoo nutti hafe wayya.”
The Oromo person who has passed through many trials to reach today—there is no benefit in belittling or diminishing them. Even if something remains, it would be better if it were left to us.
This is a statement of respect. It is a statement of gratitude. It is a statement of continuity.
We who inherit the Oromo legacy must approach it with humility. We must recognize that we stand on the shoulders of giants—of those who preserved the language when it was forbidden, who kept the culture alive when it was suppressed, who fought for justice when it was dangerous, and who maintained hope when all seemed lost.
Let us honor their sacrifices. Let us build upon their foundations. Let us continue their struggle. And let us never forget that we are part of a long and noble tradition—a tradition of resilience, resistance, and the unwavering pursuit of freedom.
“Nama Oromoo bu’aa bahii hedduu keessa darbuun har’a gahe…”
The Oromo person who has passed through many trials to reach today…
May we always honor that journey. May we always respect that struggle. And may we always remember that we are the inheritors of a legacy that demands our deepest gratitude and our most dedicated service.
The journey continues. The struggle endures. And the story of the Oromo people will be told with the dignity it deserves.
The Blueprint of Victory: Why Oromo Success Demands Rejecting the Counsel of the Defeated
By Daandii Ragabaa
There is an old, unspoken rule in the theater of struggle: survivors write the history, but losers write the excuses. In the Oromo context, where the collective quest for self-determination, economic freedom, and cultural preservation is a daily examination of resilience, one question haunts the community: Who are we listening to?
A sobering observation often echoes through the chambers of Oromo intellectual discourse:
“Oromoonni hedduu gorsa qajeelaa argataa hin jiran. Namni qormaata darbuu barbaadu, nama qormaata kufe irraa gorsa fudhachuu hin qabu. Namoonni hedduun namoota qormaata qabsoo kufan irraa gorsa fudhatu; sun ta’uu hin qabu.”
Translated, it reads: “Many Oromo do not have proper guidance. Whoever wants to pass the test must stop taking advice from those who failed it. [Yet] many people do not take advice from those who failed the struggle.”
At first glance, the final sentence seems contradictory—if they don’t take advice from failures, why do they lack proper guidance? The answer lies in a painful paradox: the public square is dominated by the loud, defeated voices, while the silent, victorious architects remain obscured. This is the critical juncture where the Oromo struggle must evolve—from a theater of sympathy to a laboratory of strategic success.
The Danger of the Familiar Echo
Human psychology is wired for comfort. We gravitate toward those who validate our pain. When a community has faced systemic marginalization, it is easy to find solace in the company of those who share tales of bureaucratic stonewalling, economic collapse, or political betrayal.
But here lies the trap. The advice of a person who has never built a business, never negotiated a diplomatic win, or never successfully organized a self-sustaining institution is not just useless—it is parasitic.
The philosophy embedded in this Oromo axiom demands a radical break. The qormaata (exam) is not merely a classroom test; it is the existential evaluation of a nation. Are we passing the test of economic independence? Are we passing the test of educational excellence? Are we passing the test of diplomatic recognition? If the answer is no, we must scrutinize the source of our daily counsel.
Why the “Defeated” Cannot Guide the Victorious
To understand why one must stop taking advice from those who failed, we must define “failure” in the context of struggle. It is not the noble failure of a soldier who falls on the battlefield fighting an invincible force. It is the ideological failure of those who succumb to defeatism before the battle begins. It is the failure of those who normalize mediocrity, who preach that the system is “too big to beat,” and who mistake loud lamentation for meaningful action.
A student preparing for a rigorous medical entrance exam would never hire a tutor who failed the same exam five times. Why? Because failure does not produce the methodology of success. It produces the psychology of survival. The person who passed knows the shortcuts, the mindset shifts, and the precise sacrifices required. The person who failed knows only the pitfalls—and misery loves company.
The Silent Crisis of Mentorship
The axiom notes that many Oromo do not have proper guidance. This is the root catastrophe. In the diaspora and at home, the community is saturated with “critics” but starved of “architects.” We have an abundance of orators who can deconstruct oppression flawlessly, yet a scarcity of engineers who can construct the alternative.
Why do many avoid taking advice from those who did fail? Because those who failed are often the loudest. They dominate social media, they command the narrative of grievance, and they offer the easiest emotional catharsis. Meanwhile, those who have successfully passed the “exam”—the Oromo entrepreneurs running thriving global enterprises, the scholars published in top-tier journals, the diplomats navigating international corridors—are often too busy building to correct the noise.
The Paradigm Shift: Seek the Blueprint
The call here is not to abandon empathy, but to elevate strategy. If you are a young Oromo activist, do not ask the career protester how to build a political party; ask the person who actually registered a party and sustained it. If you are a student, do not ask the perpetual job-seeker for career advice; ask the professional who climbed the corporate ladder or built their own firm.
Empowerment theory, as discussed in previous discourses, argues that power is generated through competence. To break the cycle of collective stagnation, the Oromo must institutionalize a culture of Gorsa Qajeelaa—correct and proven guidance.
A Call for Discernment
The road to Bilisummaa (Freedom) is paved with strategic decisions, not emotional impulses. The “exam” we face is unforgiving. It does not award points for noble intentions; it awards results for precise actions.
It is time to adjust the volume dial. Turn down the noise of perpetual defeatism. Seek out the quiet victors in your midst. Ask them: “How did you pass?” And when they answer, take notes.
Because in the final tally of history, we are not judged by how eloquently we complained, but by how decisively we conquered. And we conquer by learning from the winners, not the defeated.
The Tree We Plant Today: A Reflection on Legacy, Life, and Political Leadership
In the heart of Finfinne, a simple act of planting carries profound lessons for governance, sustainability, and the future of generations yet unborn
Finfinne, Oromia — In the bustling streets of Shaggar, in the Sabbata district of the capital city, a quiet but powerful act is taking place. A sapling has been planted. To the casual observer, it may seem like a modest gesture—a tree among thousands, a green shoot in a city of concrete and noise. But to those who understand the deeper meaning of such acts, this planting represents something far more significant: a statement about the relationship between governance, nature, and the future.
The tree that stands today in Sabbata is not merely a decorative addition to the urban landscape. It is a living testament to the interconnectedness of all life—human and non-human, present and future, local and global. It is a reminder that the decisions we make today, the systems we build, and the values we uphold will echo through generations.
The Many Gifts of the Tree
As we reflect on the planting of this tree, we are reminded of the countless benefits that trees and vegetation provide—benefits that sustain not only human life but the entire web of existence:
~> Ecological Balance: Trees maintain the natural equilibrium of our environment, regulating temperatures, purifying air, and supporting biodiversity. They are the lungs of our planet, breathing life into the atmosphere.
~> Water Management: Trees absorb and hold rainfall, preventing flooding, replenishing groundwater, and ensuring that our rivers and springs continue to flow. In a world of increasing climate uncertainty, this function has never been more critical.
~> Soil Conservation: The roots of trees bind the soil, preventing erosion and landslides. They protect the land from being washed away by heavy rains, preserving the fertility of our agricultural lands.
~> Sustenance: Trees provide food—fruits, nuts, and leaves that nourish both humans and animals. In rural areas especially, the tree is a source of sustenance and survival, a gift that keeps giving across seasons and years.
~> Shelter: Trees offer shade and protection, cooling our homes and communities. They are the silent guardians that shield us from the harshness of the sun and the elements.
~> Building Materials: From the timber that builds our homes to the branches that create our tools, trees provide the raw materials for our shelter and sustenance.
~> Medicine: The majority of medicines in our pharmacies trace their origins to plants. Trees heal us, offering remedies that have been discovered and refined over centuries of human wisdom.
~> Paper and Knowledge: The very pages on which we write our history, our knowledge, and our dreams come from trees. Without them, our civilization would lack the means to record and transmit its wisdom.
~> And so much more: The list of benefits is almost endless. Trees purify our air, beautify our surroundings, provide habitats for countless species, and offer spiritual and cultural significance to communities around the world.
In short, the life of a tree is inseparable from human life. To protect trees is to protect ourselves. To plant trees is to invest in our collective future.
The Duty of Care
“Biqiltuu dhaabuun, dhaabanii immoo kunuunsuun akka guddatu taasisuun dirqama ta’a.”
Planting a tree is not enough. We must nurture it, water it, protect it from harm, and ensure that it grows to maturity. The act of planting is the beginning, not the end, of our responsibility.
This simple truth carries profound implications for how we approach governance and leadership. Just as a sapling requires care and attention to flourish, so too do our institutions, our communities, and our nations.
“Biqiltuun dhaabatee guddate tokko dhaloota har’aa qofa fayyada osoo hin taane, dhaloota boruufis wabii ta’a.”
A tree that is planted and successfully grown benefits not only the present generation but becomes a witness and a resource for those yet to come. It is a legacy—a gift from the past to the future, a bridge between generations.
This is the true measure of leadership: not what we consume or accumulate, but what we create and leave behind. Not what we take from the world, but what we give back. Not how we serve ourselves, but how we serve those who will come after us.
Political Systems and the Tree
“Sirni ykn paartiin siyaasaa har’a jiru boru itti fufuufi dhiisuun waan yeroon murteessuudha.”
The political systems and parties of today face a choice: to endure or to pass away. Time will decide their fate, as it decides all things. But the tree—the tree is different.
“Garuu biqiltuun sirna ykn paartii siyaasaa waliin jijjiirama osoo hin taane, dhaloota irraa dhalootaatti darbaa deema.”
Unlike political systems that rise and fall, that change with the whims of leaders and the tides of history, the tree transcends political transformation. It passes from generation to generation, a constant in a world of change.
This is a humbling observation for those of us engaged in political struggle. Our systems, our parties, our ideologies—they are temporary. The tree, when planted with care, can outlive us all. It will stand witness to the rise and fall of regimes, the birth and death of leaders, the changing fortunes of nations.
“Kanaafuu biqiltuu dhaabuu qofa osoo hin taane, kunuunsanii guddisuun dirqama ta’a.”
Therefore, it is not enough to plant—we must nurture. It is not enough to establish—we must sustain. It is not enough to begin—we must complete.
A Call to Action
“Nutis biqiltuu har’a dhaabne kunuunsinee akka guddatu haa taasisnu; ni taasisnas!”
We who plant today must also commit to tending. We who envision a better tomorrow must also labor to bring it into being. We who hope for a future must also build the foundations upon which that future can stand.
This is the message of the tree in Sabbata. It is a call to responsibility. It is a challenge to think beyond ourselves, beyond our immediate needs and desires, beyond the narrow horizons of our own lifetimes.
The tree that stands in Shaggar today is a symbol of what is possible when we act with foresight, when we care for the environment, when we prioritize the needs of future generations. It is a model for how we should approach governance, development, and leadership.
The Broader Significance
In a world facing unprecedented environmental challenges—climate change, deforestation, desertification, biodiversity loss—the planting and nurturing of trees is more than a symbolic act. It is a practical necessity. It is a matter of survival.
As we reflect on the tree in Sabbata, we are reminded of the urgency of our environmental responsibilities. The Earth does not belong to us alone; it belongs to all living beings, present and future. Our stewardship of the planet will be judged not by what we accumulate but by what we preserve.
“Biqiltuun faayidaan inni qabu jiruufi jireenya dhala nama dabalatee, kan uumama hundaa waliin wal-qabata.”
The tree connects us to the web of life—to the soil, the water, the air, the animals, the insects, and the countless other beings that share our world. To care for the tree is to care for all of life. To neglect the tree is to neglect ourselves.
A Legacy for Generations
The planting of a tree is an act of hope. It declares that we believe in tomorrow, that we trust in the future, that we have faith in the generations yet to come.
“Biqiltuun dhaabatee guddate tokko dhaloota har’aa qofa fayyada osoo hin taane, dhaloota boruufis wabii ta’a.”
When we plant a tree, we are not just planting a plant. We are planting a legacy. We are creating a witness to our existence, a gift to those who will follow, a statement that we cared about something beyond ourselves.
This is what leadership should be—not the pursuit of power for its own sake, but the cultivation of a better world for those who will inherit it. Not the accumulation of wealth and status, but the investment in sustainability and justice.
Conclusion: The Tree and the Future
As we conclude this reflection, let us return to the image of the tree in Shaggar, in Sabbata, standing tall and green in the heart of the capital. It is a reminder that the greatest acts of leadership are often the quietest—the simple decision to plant, to nurture, to care.
The tree asks nothing of us but our attention and our labor. It gives everything: oxygen, shade, food, shelter, medicine, beauty. It connects us to each other and to the world around us. It bridges the past and the future, carrying forward the hopes and dreams of those who came before.
“Nutis biqiltuu har’a dhaabne kunuunsinee akka guddatu haa taasisnu; ni taasisnas!”
Let us commit to nurturing the trees we plant today. Let us commit to building a future that honors the interconnectedness of all life. Let us commit to leaving a legacy of sustainability, justice, and hope for the generations yet to come.
In the end, the true measure of our leadership will not be found in the statues we erect or the names we inscribe on buildings. It will be found in the trees we plant and nurture, in the lives we touch and uplift, in the world we leave behind for those who will inherit it.
Plant a tree. Nurture it. Watch it grow. And know that you have done something that matters—something that will outlast you, something that will benefit generations yet unborn.
The tree in Shaggar is not just a tree. It is a prophecy. It is a promise. It is a prayer.
May we all have the wisdom to plant, the patience to nurture, and the vision to see the forest in every single seed.
Understanding Our Past to Build a Strong Future
On a Pile of Ashes…!
In an age of relentless information and manufactured outrage, the future of our people demands reflection over reaction, wisdom over noise
The words come to us like embers carried on a restless wind—dangerous, seductive, and capable of igniting fires that will burn for generations. “On a pile of ashes…!” This is the warning cry of our time, a call to pause and reflect before we add fuel to flames that threaten to consume everything our ancestors built.
The reflection from Dabaree Seenaa arrives as a timely antidote to the poison of our age—an age where words are weaponized, history is manipulated, and the future is sacrificed on the altar of immediate gratification.
The Anatomy of Division
“Dubbiin keenya, akka akka! Namootni hedduun, madaa babal’isaa oolu.”
Our words, like a contagious disease, spread rapidly. In this digital age, a single statement can circle the globe in seconds, reaching millions before any examination of its truth or consequence can take place. We have become a people of reaction, not reflection—of impulse, not intention.
The reflection observes that many among us have abandoned the future of our country and nation in favor of obsessing over the past. They speak to pit one generation against another, to sow discord where unity should prevail, to magnify old wounds instead of seeking healing.
“Dhimmoota, egeree biyyaa fi sabaa dhiisanii, dhimmoota kaleessa darban irratti xiyyeeffatanii dhaloota wal dura dhaabuuf kan dubbatan fakkaatu.”
This phenomenon is not accidental. It is a strategy—one that benefits those who seek to keep us divided, distracted, and weak. When a people are consumed by past grievances, they cannot build a future. When generations are pitted against each other, the nation crumbles from within.
The reflection asks the crucial question: Is this the work of enemies seeking to destroy us, or the work of those who, in their ignorance, serve the enemy’s agenda?
“Ajandaa akkanaa kana eenyutu, maaliif yeroo isaa maleetti bixxilanii dhaloota gidduutti facaasuu fi burjaajessuuf hojjechuu feesise?”
The Weight of Timing
“Wanti raawwannuu fi dubbannu yoo yeroo isaa hin ta’iin miidhaa moo faay’idaa qaba?”
This question cuts to the heart of our collective dilemma: Is what we say and do, if it is not timed properly, beneficial or harmful?
The reflection reminds us that not every truth needs to be spoken at every moment. Not every grievance needs to be aired in every forum. There is wisdom in timing, prudence in patience, and strength in strategic silence.
“Yeroo amma ummatni keenya maal keessa jira? Kamtu dursa? Ajandaan kun fafa moo bu’aa fida?”
What is our people facing right now? What should take priority? Does this agenda bring solutions or merely add to our burdens?
These are questions that too few of us ask before we speak, post, or share. We are so eager to be heard that we forget to consider whether what we have to say is worth hearing.
The Danger of Historical Obsession
“Kaleessa baay’een keenya, madoofneerra. Garuu kan dursu gidiraa sabni keenya keessa jirudha.”
The reflection does not deny the past. It acknowledges that many of us have been wounded, that we carry the scars of history. But it insists that the most urgent task is the present crisis our people face.
We cannot build the future by endlessly revisiting the past. The wounds we carry must be addressed—not to keep them open, but to allow them to heal.
“Dhimmoota xiyyeeffannoo babaadan irratti hojjechuutu, dhaloota sagantaa fi karoora qabu, tooftaa fi tarsiimoo qabu ta’a.”
The work of true leadership is to focus on matters of substance, to build a generation with vision and strategy, with tactics and methodology. Not a generation consumed by nostalgia and grievance, but one equipped for the challenges of the future.
The Call for Critical Thinking
“Yaadni tokko yeroo miidiyaatti as bahu, jarjartiin deebii itti kennuun dura, duraa duubaan xiinxaluun, deebii fi yaada bilchaataa, dhimmota dhufan sanaaf deebii quubsaa ta’e kennuutu male.”
When an idea emerges in the media, the temptation is to respond immediately—to react, to counter, to defend. But the reflection calls for something different: thoughtful analysis, measured response, and consideration of the long-term consequences.
“Sababni isaa, dhalootni hubannoo qajeelaa fi wal simu akka qabaatuuf jechuu kooti.”
The reason for this careful approach is that we want a generation that understands clearly and agrees with each other. We want unity, not division; consensus, not chaos.
“Sun hin mul’atu. Hunduu walumaan huursa! ‘Cittoo irratti fanxoo!'”
But this is not what we see. Instead, we see confusion everywhere—people rushing to add their voices to the noise, to throw more fuel on the fire, to declare themselves the righteous ones while condemning all others.
The Function of History
“Namni seenaa kaleessaa qofaa odeessu, kan boruu si dagachiisuuf ta’uun dagatamuu hin qabu.”
History is not meant to be merely recited; it is meant to be learned from. Those who obsess over the past without extracting its lessons are not serving the future—they are serving to make us forget the future.
“Rakkoo fi gaarii kaleessa muudatee fi ture, irraa baratuun qaawwaa jiru irratti hojjechuutu fala.”
The solution lies not in repeating the stories of the past but in learning from the problems and successes we have experienced. Study the past, yes—but apply those lessons to address the gaps and challenges of today.
“Namootni saba isaaniif quuqama dhugaa qabanis dursa, biyyaa fi saba isaaniif kennu!”
Those who truly serve their people must give priority to what their people need now—not what happened decades ago, not what grievances remain unresolved, but what will build a better future.
The Limits of Historical Recitation
“Seenaa kaleessaa qofa deddeebisanii lallabuun garuu bu’aa ni qabaa? Yoo dhalootaaf faayidaa qabaate, dhalootaaf ibsaa deemuutu wayyaadha!”
What benefit is there in endlessly repeating the past? If it benefits the people, it should enlighten the people! If it serves the future, it should illuminate the path forward.
“Akka kanaan furmaatni dhufu ni jiraa? Furmaata sana dhalootaaf akeekuutu feesisa.”
Will solutions come from this approach? We must explain the solutions to the people—not just the problems, not just the grievances, but the practical, achievable path to a better future.
“Akka guuta lagaa fi dambalii galaanaa ta’uun, egeree biyyaa fi sabaaf fala hin fidu.”
Being like a sandbank in a river or a wave in the sea—carried by every current, shaped by every tide—does not bring solutions to the nation and the people.
“Xiqqaatii haga guddaattuu, tooftaa fi tarsiimoo dhabatu, ajandaa guyyuunuu bocamaa oolaniin buubbisuun kufaatii guddaadha.”
From small things to great, lacking strategy and methodology, disseminating an agenda shaped by whoever is in power—this is a recipe for failure.
“Rakkoo kaleessaa odeessaa ooluun, sabni gidiraa keessaa bahe hin jiru. Nama yaaddessa!”
By merely narrating past problems, the people have not emerged from their difficulties. This is something to think deeply about!
The Danger of Emotion
“Muffii-Komii-Xiiqii Fi Miirrii dhuunfaa keenyaa, egeree waloo sabaa fi biyyaa keenyaa kuffisuu akka danda’u, yaaduun gaarii natti fakkaata!”
Our anger, our complaints, our frustrations, and our personal feelings—the reflection suggests it is worth considering that these can destroy the shared future of our nation and people.
Emotions are natural, even necessary. But when they drive our decisions, when they shape our actions, when they become our guiding principles—they can lead us to disaster.
“Kun kana ta’ee, adeemsa dheeraa keessa yeroo hedduu wantin hubadhe tokko; haalaa, yeroo fi bakka garagaraa keessatti, namootni baay’een hanga maqaa isaanii hin gahan.”
This being the case, one thing I have learned over a long process, in various conditions, times, and places: many people do not even understand their own reputation. They speak and act without considering how they will be perceived or what legacy they will leave.
“Hanga of himanii fi dubbatan hin gahan. Kun hubatamuu qaba.”
They do not understand what they say or do. This must be recognized.
The Path of Wisdom
“Yaada dhihaataan hundaaf, hamaamota ta’uu irraa of qabuutu wayya.”
For every idea that emerges, it is better to refrain from being among those who rush to judgment. Patience, observation, and careful consideration are virtues we must cultivate.
“Siyaasa shiraa facaafamaan, ija siyaasaatiin ilaaluudha.”
The politics that spreads division must be viewed through the eye of political awareness. We must understand the motives behind the messages we receive.
“Waanti dhageenyu hundi, dhugaas sobas miti.”
Not everything we hear is truth—and not everything we hear is false. The world is not divided simply into lies and truth. There is complexity, nuance, and context that must be understood.
“Odoo hin dubbatiin, osoo hin murteessiin akka dhageenyetti, murtee kennuun sirrii miti.”
Without speaking, without judging—simply by listening, it is not correct to pass judgment. We must gather information, consider perspectives, and only then form conclusions.
“Rakkoo irratti rakkoo biraa akka hin uumneef nu gargaara.”
This approach helps us avoid creating new problems on top of existing ones. It prevents the escalation of conflict and the multiplication of grievances.
“Dhugummaa fi sobummaa isaa adda baafachuutu dursa. Namummaan isa kanadha!”
Distinguishing truth from falsehood must come first. This is what humanity demands!
A Call to Reflection
“Dimshaashumatti, dhalootni tasgabbii fi obsaan yaadota midiyaa kana irratti facaamu ilaaluu wayya.”
In summary, it is better for the generation to examine the ideas circulating in the media with patience and calm. Not everything that appears is urgent; not everything that is urgent is true.
“Dubbii cidii irratti ibidda darbii akka hin taane.”
Do not be like someone who passes fire on a burning wall—spreading flames without thought of the consequences.
“Loogii malee, dhugaaf hojjechuudha.”
Work for truth, not for favor. Seek what is right, not what is popular.
“Yaadota guyyaa guyyaan, midiyaa kana irratti dhufan, akeekaa fi kaayyoo isaa hubatuu feesisa.”
For the daily ideas that arrive in the media, we need to understand their meaning and purpose. What is being said? Why is it being said? Who benefits? Who is harmed?
“Bilchina, gahumsaa fi muuxannoo qabaachaa deemuun, dhaloota ititee fi gurmuu qabu nu taasisa.”
Moving forward with openness, capability, and experience will make us a generation that can withstand challenges and deliver solutions.
“Dammaquu, barachuu fi ijaaramuutu, sabaa fi biyyaaf bu’aa qaba.”
Mobilizing, learning, and building—this is what benefits the nation and the people.
“Isa kaleessaa irraa barachuun, isa boruutiif warraaquutu biyyaa walaba baasa!!”
Learning from the past to prepare for the future—this is what leads a nation to progress and prosperity!
Conclusion
“Yaada koo xumureera. Horaa-bulaa! ‘Kaayyoon, laayyoo miti!'”
My thought is complete. May you prosper! “The goal is not entertainment!”
This final statement is perhaps the most important of all. The reflection is not meant to entertain, to amuse, or to comfort. It is meant to awaken, to challenge, and to guide.
The goal of those who truly love their people must be the flourishing of their nation—not the satisfaction of personal grievances, not the pursuit of power or status, not the desire to be heard or recognized.
The goal is the goal itself: a free, just, and prosperous Oromiya. A generation that builds rather than destroys. A people that unites rather than divides. A future that learns from the past without being imprisoned by it.
“Cittoo irratti fanxoo…!”
On a pile of ashes, we must not build more fire. We must build foundations. We must build hope. We must build a future worthy of the sacrifices of those who came before us.
The time for reaction is over. The time for reflection has begun.
“Kaayyoon, laayyoo miti!”
The goal is not entertainment—it is liberation, it is justice, it is the future of our people.
May we all rise to the challenge.
The Unfinished Story: Why Oromo Truth-Telling Matters
For generations, the history of Oromia has been told through a narrow lens—one that often excluded, silenced, or misrepresented Oromo voices and perspectives. Official accounts of Oromian history frequently omitted the full story, leaving gaps that have shaped not only how the past is understood but also how present-day realities are experienced. Oromo truth-telling seeks to change this by placing Oromo voices and lived experiences back at the centre of the narrative.
What Is Oromo Truth-Telling?
At its core, Oromo truth-telling means telling a fuller and more honest account of Oromia’s history. This includes confronting difficult chapters such as colonisation, dispossession, violence, child removals, stolen wages and discriminatory laws. But it also encompasses celebrating Oromo survival, resistance, cultures, knowledge and achievements. It is not about erasing or rewriting history—it is about finally telling more of it .
The concept emerges from a recognition that official versions of history have often been incomplete. As one study notes, the Ethiopian imperial conquest of Oromo territories from 1880 to 1974 involved not just military subjugation but a systematic process of land alienation, political domination and cultural marginalisation . The Oromo resistance against this imperial conquest, though significant, has frequently been downplayed or omitted from mainstream historical accounts.
The Historical Context
The Oromo people, one of the largest ethnic groups in the Horn of Africa, possess a rich political and cultural heritage that includes the Gadaa-Qaalluu system—a model of egalitarian governance, democracy and social organisation that predates many Western democratic institutions . This system, based on consensus-building principles like tchaffee and qixxee, demonstrates sophisticated democratic traditions that challenge portrayals of Oromo society as politically primitive.
Yet this heritage was disrupted by conquest. The Arsi Oromo resistance against Ethiopian imperial forces between 1880 and 1900, for instance, involved intense conflict where the introduction of firearms by imperial forces dramatically shifted the balance of power . The defeat that followed did not merely change political control—it established what scholars describe as a “feudal colonial order” in which Oromo lands were alienated and the Naftagna (settler-administrators) became dominant over local populations .
How Truth-Telling Happens
Truth-telling is not a single event but a process that can unfold through multiple channels. Oral histories, community projects, schools, museums, archives, memorials, public hearings and formal inquiries all serve as vehicles for recovering and amplifying Oromo perspectives. The principle guiding this work is that it should be led by the Oromo community, grounded in local history and handled respectfully. Meaningful action must follow—truth-telling is not just about speaking; it requires people to listen and respond.
Why It Matters Today
The past is not simply past. Discriminatory laws and policies from earlier eras continue to shape economic conditions, political representation and social relations in Oromia today. Understanding how systems of domination were structured—from taxation without representation to the informal structures of control examined in historical research—helps explain persistent inequalities .
Reconciliation cannot progress while difficult chapters remain unaddressed. Oromo truth-telling is not about assigning blame or fostering division. Rather, it is about creating the conditions for genuine reconciliation by ensuring that all parts of the story are acknowledged. A nation that avoids its uncomfortable history builds its future on unstable ground.
A Call to Listen
The Oromo truth-telling movement is a call not just for Oromo people to speak but for all Oromians—and indeed all who engage with Oromian history—to listen. It is an invitation to reckon with the full complexity of the past and to recognise the resilience and contributions of the Oromo people across generations. The survival of Oromo cultures, knowledge systems and identities in the face of colonisation and dispossession is itself a testament to the strength that truth-telling seeks to honour.
As Oromia considers its path forward, truth-telling offers a foundation. It does not promise easy answers, but it offers something essential: a fuller, more honest account of where we have been, so we can better understand where we are and thoughtfully choose where we are going.
Beyond the Echo: A Reflection on Unity, Memory, and the Path Forward
A Feature Article Based on the Reflections of Hinsarmuu Shiferaw
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In the quiet corridors of political memory, where the past whispers its lessons and the present demands its reckonings, there exists a voice that refuses to be silenced. It is a voice that has witnessed decades of struggle, felt the weight of collective sacrifice, and now calls for a moment of profound clarity. This is the voice of Hinsarmuu Shiferaw, whose recent reflections offer not just a chronicle of Oromo political history, but a roadmap for the soul of a movement at a critical crossroads.
“The words have been many,” Hinsarmuu writes, “and the ideas pouring forth are abundant. Yet among all these thoughts, there are those whose names we must hold tightly to our hearts.”
The Pillars of Memory
In a gesture that transcends mere remembrance, Hinsarmuu calls upon us to honor five individuals whose contributions have shaped the trajectory of the Oromo struggle:
1. Ob. Dirribsaa Daamxee – whose steadfast commitment to the cause became a beacon of resilience
2. Ob. Girmaa Xurunaa – whose vision helped chart the course of resistance
3. Ob. Jawaar Mohammad – whose intellectual contributions continue to reverberate
4. Ob. Ashennafii Addunya – whose global perspective bridged local struggles with universal aspirations
5. ABO – the collective embodiment of Oromo resistance, the movement that gave voice to millions
And alongside these, Dachaasa Wiirtu and others whose efforts, while perhaps less celebrated, formed the bedrock upon which the struggle was built.
The Turning Point: 1993 and Beyond
“We have held the struggle from 1993 in our grasp,” Hinsarmuu reflects, grounding us in a specific historical moment that marked a decisive shift in the Oromo political landscape. It is a reminder that the journey has been long, the sacrifices immense, and the stakes perpetually high.
But here lies the crux of Hinsarmuu’s message: “What has passed must not return.” The past, with all its triumphs and tribulations, serves as teacher rather than destination. The call is for clarity—for the movement to stand firm in its current position, to examine itself with unflinching honesty, and to chart a path illuminated by hard-won wisdom.
Five Pathways to Renewal
Hinsarmuu articulates a five-point vision for what the movement could achieve through this moment of reflection:
1. Comforting the Weary
Those who have lost sleep witnessing the movement torn apart deserve solace. The wounds of division run deep, and healing must begin with acknowledgment. Grief that has gone unrecognized must find its recognition; weariness that has been dismissed must find its rest.
2. Easing the Burden of Sacrifice
The blood and bone of our heroes—those who gave everything in Kenya and beyond—demands more than passive remembrance. Their sacrifice calls us to action, to ensure that what was given was not in vain.
3. Recalling Those Who Strayed
“Halagaa/orma harka fuudha dhaquu”—those who were led astray, who departed from the path. The movement must grapple with its losses, not through condemnation alone, but through a reckoning that seeks understanding and, where possible, reclamation.
4. Reclaiming Political Space
There exists a hidden plan from the post-Amman era to dismantle Oromo political participation as a unified people. This strategy seeks to scatter, to weaken, to atomize—a tactic of division that must be recognized and resisted. The call is to reinforce the collective political share that Oromos rightfully hold in the country’s governance.
5. Confronting the Instrumentalization of Faith
Perhaps most urgently, Hinsarmuu addresses the manipulation of religion—both internal and external—that seeks to divide and conquer. “The religion being weaponized against us,” he writes, “this new wave that seeks to entrap us”—must be met with unity, not fragmentation.
The Danger of Empty Rhetoric
“The harm that has come from excessive talk, from words that have been unleashed and scattered,” Hinsarmuu warns, “must be gathered and examined.” There is a call here for accountability, for the movement to own its missteps, to confront the ways in which division has been sown—sometimes intentionally, sometimes through carelessness.
The past, he insists, “offers no guarantees for the future.” The comfort of yesterday’s victories cannot shield us from tomorrow’s challenges. To assume otherwise is to court the very dangers that have plagued the movement before.
A Call to Action
The closing words of Hinsarmuu’s reflection carry both urgency and invitation:
“To my brothers and sisters: Stop where you stand. Look at what surrounds you. Consider what you have built—and what you have allowed to crumble.”
It is a call to presence, to awareness, to the kind of stillness that precedes true movement. In a world that demands constant action, Hinsarmuu asks for the courage to pause, to reflect, and to choose deliberately rather than reactively.
The Road Ahead
As Ethiopia continues its complex political transformation, and as the Oromo struggle navigates the treacherous waters of contemporary politics, the reflections of Hinsarmuu Shiferaw offer not just analysis but prescription. They remind us that movements are not merely collections of strategies and tactics; they are communities of memory, webs of relationship, and vessels of hope.
The path forward, Hinsarmuu suggests, lies neither in nostalgic return nor in reckless abandon, but in honest assessment and courageous adaptation. The names he calls to remembrance are not mere historical footnotes; they are living invitations to a different kind of politics—one rooted in accountability, animated by vision, and sustained by collective purpose.
“What we have endured must become what we have learned,” he seems to say. “And what we have learned must become what we do differently.”
The echo of his words invites us not to repeat the past, but to transcend it—to build a future worthy of the sacrifices that have brought us this far, and to ensure that those who come after will have less cause for grief and more reason for hope.
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This feature article draws on the personal reflections of Hinsarmuu Shiferaw, whose words speak to the enduring questions of political struggle, collective identity, and the transformative power of honest self-examination.
Advocacy for Oromia 