Category Archives: Finfinne
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.
A Defining Moment: Oromo Scholars Worldwide Called to Shape the Future of Their Academic Legacy
By Dhabessa Wakjira
Global – A clarion call is echoing across continents, from the bustling streets of Minneapolis to the academic halls of Europe, from the research centers of Australia to the universities of East Africa. It is a call for unity, for intellectual firepower, and for the collective reclamation of a people’s narrative.
The Oromo Studies Association (OSA) – the premier academic institution dedicated to the rigorous study and preservation of Oromo history, culture, and identity – has entered a historic new phase. And it is extending an urgent invitation to Oromo intellectuals, professionals, creatives, and visionaries around the globe: Your moment has arrived.
In an exclusive appeal, the President of OSA has issued a stirring call to action, urging the global Oromo diaspora to lend their minds, their skills, and their ambition to what he describes as a “defining moment” for the Association and for the Oromo people at large.
Bridging Generations, Building a Legacy
At the heart of this appeal lies a profound understanding of time and tradition. The OSA, guided by the democratic and intergenerational principles of the ancient Gadaa system, has just completed its first Gadaa cycle – a remarkable milestone in its institutional journey. Now, as it steps into its second cycle, the Association stands at a crossroads of immense potential.
“This is not merely a transition on paper,” the President stated in his message. “It is a historic milestone. We are moving from one era of scholarship into another, and we must carry with us the wisdom of our elders while embracing the energy and innovation of our youth.”
The vision is clear: to create a seamless bridge between the giants who laid the foundation of Oromo studies and the rising generation of thinkers who will carry that torch forward. The goal is to ensure that Oromo scholarship is not only preserved but also reimagined for a rapidly changing world.
More Than Scholarship: A Mission of Correction and Justice
The work of the OSA, however, extends far beyond the quiet confines of academic journals. It is a mission deeply rooted in the lived realities of the Oromo people. For decades, Oromo history and identity have been subject to distortion, erasure, and misrepresentation. The OSA has positioned itself as the vanguard of evidence-based scholarship, a bulwark against the tides of misinformation.
“In a world where narratives are often weaponized, our commitment is to intellectual tenacity and factual rigor,” the President emphasized. “We are not just studying history; we are correcting it. We are using scholarship as a tool for truth, for justice, and for the affirmation of Oromo human rights.”
The invitation is therefore a call to arms – but an intellectual one. The OSA is seeking more than just members; it is seeking partners in the pursuit of truth. It is calling on Oromo lawyers, historians, data scientists, economists, artists, and engineers to bring their professional expertise to bear on the challenges facing their people.
A Global Network of Excellence
The OSA’s ambition is as vast as the diaspora itself. By inviting Oromo elites from every corner of the world to participate, the Association is striving to create a decentralized, powerful network of intellectual excellence. The goal is to ensure that Oromo scholarship is not confined to a single geography but is enriched by the diverse experiences of a global community.
The President’s message underscores the importance of collective strength: “Your participation will strengthen our collective voice, enrich our scholarship, and ensure that OSA continues to serve as a beacon of Oromo knowledge, culture, and academic excellence.”
Whether it is a tenured professor in a Western university, a young entrepreneur in Nairobi, or a community organizer in the Horn of Africa, the OSA is opening its doors to all who are committed to advancing Oromo studies and the well-being of the Oromo people.
An Invitation for the Future
As the Association embarks on this new chapter, the call is clear: the time for passive observation is over. The OSA is not merely an institution to be admired from afar; it is a living, breathing movement that requires the active participation of every Oromo who dreams of a future where their identity is celebrated, their history is honored, and their potential is unleashed.
“This is a defining moment,” the President reiterated. “We invite you not just to join, but to lead, to innovate, and to build. Together, we can shape the next chapter of Oromo scholarship and ensure that our legacy endures for generations to come.”
For the Oromo people scattered across the globe, the message resonates with profound urgency and hope. The work of building a people’s academic legacy is arduous, but the invitation stands: the table is set, the mission is clear, and the world is waiting.
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How to Get Involved:
The Oromo Studies Association welcomes scholars, professionals, and all individuals dedicated to Oromo scholarship and human rights. To learn more about membership, upcoming events, and contribution opportunities, visit the official OSA channels or reach out to your local chapter.
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This is a featured opinion piece based on the official communication from the Oromo Studies Association.
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.
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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.
BEYOND THE RITUAL: A PLEA FOR UNITY AT THE HEART OF OROMIA’S SACRED DIALOGUE
By Daandii Ragabaa
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In the bustling city of Finfinne, where the hum of modernity often drowns out the whispers of ancient tradition, a different kind of gathering recently took place—one that carried the weight of history and the fragile hope of a shared future. It was not a political rally, nor a commercial event. It was a meeting of faiths, a rare and courageous roundtable where religious leaders from the three spiritual pillars of Oromo society—Waaqeffanna, Christianity, and Islam—sat together not as rivals, but as brothers.
This landmark dialogue, initiated under the momentum of the Waaqeffanna community, was spearheaded by prominent figures, including Obbo Asnake Irko, a respected elder and representative of the Waaqeffanna faith. But the true architect of this historic convergence, as acknowledged by all present, was Qesiis Balay Mekonnen, whose dedication to securing media coverage and a neutral venue ensured that the voices of faith would not be whispered in shadows, but broadcast to the world.
The meeting was not about theological supremacy. It was about survival—the survival of culture, language, and mutual respect in a land where faith has too often been used as a wedge rather than a bridge.
—
The Four Pillars of the Finfinne Accord
After hours of intense and heartfelt deliberation, the religious leaders reached a series of groundbreaking agreements that could reshape the spiritual landscape of Oromia. At the heart of these resolutions lay four core principles:
1. Mutual Respect for All Faiths
The leaders unanimously affirmed that no religion—whether indigenous Waaqeffanna, Orthodox or Protestant Christianity, or Islam—holds a monopoly on truth or dignity. They pledged to honor each tradition’s sacred practices, recognizing that the Creator, however named, desires reverence and love among His people.
2. Culture and Language as Unifying Tools
In a powerful declaration, the group committed to using the Oromo language and cultural heritage as vehicles for unity, not division. They agreed that songs, proverbs, and artistic expressions from all faiths could be shared to enrich the collective identity of the Oromo people, rather than to compete or exclude.
3. Standing Together in Times of Crisis
“Yoo rakkoon jiraate waliin dhaabbannee hiikuu”—”If trouble arises, we will stand together to resolve it.” This pledge was perhaps the most poignant. The leaders vowed that no community would face marginalization, violence, or discrimination alone. They would act as a unified bloc to mediate, protect, and advocate for justice, regardless of which faith was affected.
4. Defending the Oromo People from Religious Exploitation
In a bold stance against instrumentalization, the leaders condemned any attempt to use religious identity to sow discord or to harm the Oromo nation. They agreed to collectively denounce and counter any rhetoric or action that weaponizes faith against Oromo unity.
5. A Shared Vision for Irreechaa and Other Cultural Festivals
The dialogue also addressed the growing misunderstandings surrounding Oromo cultural celebrations, particularly Irreechaa. The leaders resolved to engage in ongoing consultations to ensure that these festivals are understood in their proper context—as expressions of thanksgiving and communal identity—and are respected by all faith communities.
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A Word of Gratitude
In his closing remarks, Obbo Asnake Irko expressed deep appreciation for the spirit of openness shown by his fellow religious leaders. Yet, he reserved his most heartfelt thanks for Qesiis Balay Mekonnen, whose tireless efforts in organizing the venue and mobilizing media attention made the dialogue possible. “Without his vision,” Obbo Asnake stated, “this table would remain empty.”
The participants included:
1. Qees Dr. Bantii U. Teessoo – representing the Protestant Christian community
2. Qesiis Balay Mekonnen – representing the Orthodox Christian tradition
3. Sheek Hajjii – representing the Islamic faith
4. Obbo Asnake Irko – representing the Waaqeffanna tradition
—
What This Means for Tomorrow
This gathering in Finfinne is more than a news item. It is a testament to the maturity of Oromo society—a society that refuses to let religious difference become a source of conflict. In a region often scarred by sectarian strife, these leaders have lit a small but steady flame. They have shown that the green grass of Irreechaa, the cross of Christianity, and the crescent of Islam can coexist, not in uneasy tolerance, but in active solidarity.
The road ahead is long. Old suspicions do not vanish overnight. But as Obbo Asnake Irko reminded the gathering: “Our ancestors worshipped on the same hills, drank from the same rivers, and prayed to the same Creator under different names. Let us not be the generation that forgets that truth.”
As the media cameras packed up and the leaders departed with handshakes and embraces, one thing was clear—the spirit of Irreechaa, the spirit of thanksgiving and reconciliation, had found a new home. Not just on the lakeshores, but in the hearts of those who dare to listen.
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IN SUMMARY:
Key Agreement Significance
Mutual respect for all faiths Ends religious hierarchy and promotes equality
Use Oromo culture and language for unity Strengthens identity without exclusion
Joint crisis resolution Creates a safety net for all communities
Defend Oromo people from religious abuse Prevents faith from being used as a weapon
Consult on Irreechaa and cultural events Fosters understanding and reduces misconceptions
This is not just a religious accord. It is a covenant of civilization—a promise that in Oromia, faith will build bridges, not burn them.
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 