Category Archives: Finfinne
The Voice of Freedom: How Sagaleen Bilisummaa Oromoo Amplifies the Oromo Struggle
By Daandii Ragabaa
In the vast and complex landscape of the Oromo liberation movement, few tools are as powerful as the human voice. But when that voice is broadcast—amplified, repeated, and carried across borders, across battlefields, and across generations—it becomes something more than sound. It becomes a weapon. It becomes a comfort. It becomes a call to awaken.
This is the enduring role of Sagaleen Bilisummaa Oromoo (The Voice of Oromo Freedom).
For decades, this media platform has served as one of the most vital organs of the Oromo liberation struggle. Whether through radio waves that cross national boundaries, through digital content that reaches the global diaspora, or through the whispered sharing of cassette tapes in the dark years of repression, Sagaleen Bilisummaa Oromoo has been a constant companion to the Oromo people in their long march toward self-determination.
Strengthening the Struggle
The primary mission of Sagaleen Bilisummaa Oromoo has always been clear: to strengthen the Oromo liberation struggle.
In practical terms, this means providing a platform for the Oromo Liberation Front (ABO) and other Oromo political and civic actors to communicate directly with the Oromo people, without the filtering, distortion, or outright censorship that characterizes state-controlled media. It means broadcasting news from the frontlines, whether those frontlines are military, political, or cultural.
In the armed struggle years, Sagaleen Bilisummaa Oromoo was often the only source of information about the progress of Oromo fighters, the atrocities committed against civilians, and the diplomatic efforts being made on behalf of the Oromo cause. Families separated by war and exile could listen to the same broadcast and know that they were not alone.
Even in periods of relative peace and political openness, the Voice of Oromo Freedom continues to play this role. It holds the movement accountable. It debates strategy. It remembers martyrs. It celebrates victories, however small.
Awakening the Oromo People
But strengthening the struggle is only part of the mission. Sagaleen Bilisummaa Oromoo also exists to awaken the Oromo people—to dammaqsuu.
This awakening is both political and psychological. For generations, the Oromo people were told that their language was not fit for official use, that their history began with conquest, and that their identity was a threat to Ethiopian unity. This systematic campaign of erasure created a people who, in many cases, had internalized their own marginalization.
Sagaleen Bilisummaa Oromoo works to reverse this damage. It broadcasts Oromo poetry that stirs the soul. It tells Oromo history that textbooks omit. It gives voice to Oromo scholars, artists, and activists who articulate a vision of Oromo dignity and self-respect.
To listen to Sagaleen Bilisummaa Oromoo is to hear a different narrative—one in which the Oromo are not victims of history but agents of their own destiny. This is not propaganda. This is the restoration of a truth that has been deliberately suppressed.
When an Oromo farmer in a remote village hears his language spoken with authority and respect on the radio, something shifts inside him. When an Oromo student in the diaspora hears the names of Oromo heroes recited alongside the great liberators of the world, she understands that her people belong in the company of nations. This is awakening.
Proclaiming the Goal of Freedom
Finally, Sagaleen Bilisummaa Oromoo serves as a constant reminder of the ultimate objective: Kaayyoo Bilisummaa Oromoo—the goal of Oromo freedom.
The Oromo struggle has, at different times, been characterized in different ways. Some have framed it as a demand for human rights within a united Ethiopia. Others have articulated it as a quest for self-determination up to and including secession. Still others have focused on cultural and linguistic rights, economic justice, or political representation.
Through all these variations, Sagaleen Bilisummaa Oromoo has consistently held the line on the fundamental principle: the Oromo people have the right to be free. What that freedom looks like—whether a federal arrangement, a confederation, or an independent Oromo state—is a matter of political discussion. But the right itself is non-negotiable.
By consistently broadcasting this message, the Voice of Oromo Freedom ensures that the goal is never forgotten. In periods of political co-optation, when Oromo elites are tempted to trade long-term freedom for short-term positions, Sagaleen Bilisummaa Oromoo reminds listeners of the martyrs who died for the cause. In periods of despair, when the struggle seems endless and victory distant, it reminds listeners that freedom is not a gift to be requested but a right to be claimed.
The Evolution of the Voice
Sagaleen Bilisummaa Oromoo has not remained static. Like the struggle it serves, it has evolved with the times.
In the early decades, the Voice often operated clandestinely, broadcasting from neighboring countries, using makeshift equipment, and reaching audiences through shortwave radio. The signal could be weak. The hours were limited. The risk of jamming or retaliation was constant.
But the audience was loyal. Oromo families would gather around radios at specific times, turning the volume low to avoid detection, listening to every word. The Voice was a lifeline.
Today, Sagaleen Bilisummaa Oromoo has expanded into digital platforms. It reaches the global Oromo diaspora through social media, streaming services, and websites. Young Oromo who have never used a shortwave radio can access the same content on their smartphones. The technology has changed, but the mission remains.
Challenges and Resilience
Operating as a voice of liberation is never easy. Sagaleen Bilisummaa Oromoo has faced jamming, legal harassment, and political pressure from successive Ethiopian governments. Its journalists and broadcasters have been targeted. Its infrastructure has been attacked.
Yet, like the Oromo people themselves, the Voice endures.
Each time the signal is blocked, it finds a new frequency. Each time a broadcaster is silenced, another steps forward. The resilience of Sagaleen Bilisummaa Oromoo is a testament to the depth of the Oromo people’s commitment to their own liberation.
A Call to Listen
For those who are already part of the Oromo struggle, Sagaleen Bilisummaa Oromoo needs no introduction. It is a familiar companion, a trusted source, a rallying cry.
But for the younger generation—those who have grown up in the diaspora, those who have been disconnected from Oromo language and culture, those who are only beginning to understand the meaning of Oromummaa—the Voice of Oromo Freedom is an essential resource.
To listen is to learn. To learn is to understand. And to understand is to join the struggle, whether through political activism, cultural preservation, or simply the determination to live with dignity and pride.
Conclusion
Sagaleen Bilisummaa Oromoo is more than a radio station, more than a website, more than a collection of broadcasts. It is a living institution of the Oromo liberation movement. It is a witness to history. It is a voice that refuses to be silenced.
As the Oromo people continue their long journey toward freedom, the Voice will be there—broadcasting the news, awakening the consciousness, and proclaiming the goal.
Sagaleen Bilisummaa Oromoo – the voice that will not be stilled.
Daandii Ragabaa, reporting on Oromo liberation media.
Sagaleen Bilisummaa Oromoo: Qabsoo humneessuu, Ummata dammaqsuu, Kaayyoo beeksisuu.
(The Voice of Oromo Freedom: Strengthening the struggle, awakening the people, proclaiming the goal.)
The Voice That Would Not Be Silenced: How Sagalee Bilisummaa Oromoo Strengthened a Nation’s Liberation Struggle
The year is 1988.
Across the vast highlands of Oromia, state radio broadcasts only the official narrative in Amharic. Afaan Oromo—the mother tongue of Africa’s largest stateless nation—is banned from schools, courts, and airwaves. To speak it publicly is to invite suspicion. To seek liberation is to risk death.
But on June 15 of that year, a faint signal crackles through the static. It speaks in the forbidden language. It carries news the regime does not want heard. It names names, gives dates, and whispers hope.
The voice belongs to Sagalee Bilisummaa Oromoo (SBO)—the Voice of Oromo Liberation.
For 38 years—from 1988 to 2026—that voice has done what armies alone cannot. It has strengthened the Oromo liberation struggle, mobilized a scattered nation, and spread the goals of freedom across borders and generations.
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I. Strengthening the Struggle: ‘More Than a Quarter-Century of Contribution’
In May 2023, as the Oromo Liberation Front (OLF) prepared to mark the 35th anniversary of SBO’s founding, the party issued a statement that captured the radio’s essential role. “Launched on June 15th 1988, SBO/VOL has been contributing a lot in the long journey of Oromo struggle for freedom,” the OLF said, “despite several relentless attempts of the enemy to quit the media”.
That phrase—“despite several relentless attempts”—is not rhetorical. Over nearly four decades, successive Ethiopian regimes have tried to jam SBO’s shortwave frequencies, block its diaspora websites, and intimidate its journalists. In 2013, on World Press Freedom Day, observers noted that “Afan Oromo shortwave radios, such as VOA and SBO…are under constant threat of jamming by the Ethiopian regime”. Countless Oromo journalists have been harassed, imprisoned, or exiled. Independent Oromo newspapers were closed down. But SBO endured.
Why? Because in a country where “internet is rare, satellite communication is unthinkable, TV is a luxury and FM is unknown, a shortwave radio still remains the only and an effective media outlet”. For rural Oromo families without electricity or cell service, the crackling voice from abroad was the only window onto a world where their language and their liberation mattered.
Senior SBO journalist Obbo Tolera Adaba, who has served the station since its inception, put it simply: “In a liberation struggle, media is alpha and omega”. Without information, there is no strategy. Without analysis, there is no direction. Without a voice, there is no nation.
File: Miseensota SBO garii waliin bara 25/12/2016 keessa, Asmaraa
II. Mobilizing the People: Informing, Organizing, Inspiring
The OLF’s anniversary statement identified three interconnected functions that SBO has performed for nearly four decades. The station’s “quarter-a-century contribution,” the party said, has been in “informing, organizing and inspiring the Oromo nation for the struggle to self-determination”.
Informing: SBO broke the state’s information monopoly. It reported massacres, land seizures, political arrests, and the realities of military occupation that Ethiopian media ignored. It gave Oromo listeners facts their own government denied them.
Organizing: The radio broadcast practical information—meeting times, protest calls, strategies for resistance. It explained OLF’s political program, its vision for self-determination, and the legal and historical arguments underpinning Oromo nationhood. In a society denied political education, SBO became an open university.
Inspiring: Perhaps most crucially, SBO normalized Afaan Oromo as a language of serious political discourse. It broadcast Oromo poetry, music, and oral traditions. It reminded listeners that their identity was not a shameful secret but a proud inheritance. For countless Oromo families, tuning into SBO was an act of quiet rebellion—a refusal to accept erasure.
One grandson’s memory captures this intimacy. In a 2014 essay, an Oromo writer recalled how his grandfather “had a habit of making the entire family tune into his favorite radio station: The Voice of Oromo Liberation”. The grandfather would crank up the volume, urging his children and grandchildren to learn Afaan Oromo. The station broadcast daily in both Afan Oromo and Amharic“>. “Despite living in Finfinne most of his life,” the grandson wrote, “he never lost touch with his Oromo heritage”. SBO was the thread connecting him to a nation that official Ethiopia pretended did not exist.
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III. Spreading the Goals of Oromo Liberation: A Blueprint for Freedom
SBO has never been merely a news service. From its inception, it has served as the official media organ of the Oromo Liberation Front, and its broadcasts have consistently advanced the core goals of Oromo self-determination.
What are those goals? As articulated by the OLF over decades, they include: the right of the Oromo people to political self-determination; the recognition of Afaan Oromo as a language of governance and education; the protection of Oromo cultural and historical sites; and the establishment of a democratic system that reflects Oromo values—values the Gadaa system has embodied for centuries.
SBO has spread these goals through:
– Political education: Explaining the legal and moral case for self-determination under international law.
– Historical recovery: Broadcasting Oromo history as Oromo historians write it, not as imperial chronicles distorted it.
– Cultural affirmation: Playing Oromo music, poetry, and oral traditions that state media ignored.
– Call to action: Announcing protests, mobilizing diaspora support, and coordinating with liberation forces on the ground.
In 2023, the OLF called SBO’s upcoming anniversary “a historical event with our people in Oromia and around the world”. The party thanked “those who have made unforgettable contributions to keep SBO staying on air to this very day” and called on supporters to donate, share ideas, and keep the radio alive.
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IV. The Unfinished Work: A Voice Still Needed
Today, as SBO marks its 38th anniversary on June 15, 2026, the struggle is not over.
The Ethiopian state has undergone significant political changes since 2018, including the rise of Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed and a partial opening of political space. Some exiled media have returned. Some Oromo political prisoners have been released. But the fundamental question of Oromo self-determination remains unresolved. Independent Oromo media still cannot operate freely inside Oromia“>. And SBO continues to broadcast from abroad—six days a week, on shortwave and digital platforms, paid for by Oromos and friends of the Oromo people“>.
The station’s mission, as articulated in its founding charter, remains unchanged: “to promote awareness in peace and democracy, disseminate knowledge in elementary health care, environmental protection, and gender equality, and broadcast information on improved methods in agriculture, animal husbandry and rural development”. But beneath those practical goals lies a deeper purpose: to keep alive the idea that the Oromo people deserve to govern themselves, in their own language, under their own laws.
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Conclusion: ‘Alpha and Omega’
On June 15, 2026, somewhere in the Oromo diaspora—in Minneapolis, in Toronto, in Berlin, in Nairobi—a grandfather will turn on his shortwave radio. He will crank up the volume. His grandchildren will roll their eyes. But the voice will come through, crackling and defiant, the same voice that has spoken for 38 years.
That voice has strengthened the liberation struggle when armies faltered. It has mobilized a scattered people into a political nation. And it has spread the goals of Oromo freedom across generations and continents.
In a liberation struggle, as Obbo Tolera Adaba said, media is alpha and omega—the beginning and the end. For the Oromo people, Sagalee Bilisummaa Oromoo has been both.
Baga Guyyaa SBO 38ffaa isin gahe! Congratulations on the 38th anniversary.
— Adda Bilisummaa Oromoo (ABO)
June 15, 2026
Finfinnee
Understanding the Gadaa System: Peaceful Power Transfer in Oromo Culture
By Daandii Ragabaa
WAXABAJJII 07, 2018 E.C. (June 2026 G.C.) – The cycle has turned. The baton has passed. A new chapter in the centuries-old democracy of the Oromo people has begun.
Today, at the sacred site of Ardaa Jilaa Dhaka Koraatti, the Walharkaa Fuudhinsa Alangee – the formal transfer of the Baallii (ceremonial baton of office) – was conducted for the 71st cycle of the Tuulama Gadaa. Power moved peacefully from the Gadaa Meelbaa grade to the Gadaa Muudanaa grade.
And at the heart of this ceremony stood one man: Abbaa Gadaa Geetuu Taliilaa Tufaa, who received the Alangee and was inaugurated as the new Abbaa Gadaa of the Tuulama Oromo.
The Sacred Transfer
The Gadaa system, recognized by UNESCO as an Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity, operates on an eight-year cycle. Each cycle has a name, a purpose, and a set of leaders who carry the responsibilities of governance, conflict resolution, ritual observance, and community welfare.
The 70th cycle, Gadaa Meelbaa, has now completed its term. The 71st cycle, Gadaa Muudanaa, has begun. And with this transition, the Alangee – the symbol of legitimate authority – has been placed into the hands of a new leader.
The ceremony at Ardaa Jilaa Dhaka Koraatti was not a political rally. There were no speeches attacking opponents, no promises that would be broken tomorrow, no expensive campaigns or negative advertisements. There was only ritual, tradition, blessing, and the quiet, solemn transfer of a baton that represents the collective will of the Tuulama Oromo.
Elders presided. The community witnessed. The Caffee assembly gave its consent. And Abbaa Gadaa Geetuu Taliilaa Tufaa stepped into his role – not as a conqueror, but as a servant. Not as a king, but as a caretaker.
Who Is Abbaa Gadaa Geetuu Taliilaa Tufaa?
Little is known by the wider public about the new Abbaa Gadaa. This is not unusual. The Gadaa system does not produce celebrities. It produces leaders who are chosen not for their charisma or their wealth but for their wisdom, their integrity, and their commitment to the community.
Abbaa Gadaa Geetuu Taliilaa Tufaa emerges from within the Gadaa Muudanaa grade – a cohort of men who have been preparing for leadership for years, even decades. The Gadaa system does not allow anyone to simply declare themselves a leader. One must be born into a Gadaa grade, grow through its ranks, learn its laws, participate in its rituals, and be recognized by elders and community members as ready to lead.
The new Abbaa Gadaa has now received the Alangee. He has been blessed. He has been installed. And for the next eight years, he will carry the weight of the Tuulama Oromo on his shoulders.
The Significance of the 71st Cycle
Why does the 71st cycle matter? Why should anyone outside the Gadaa system care about the transfer of the Alangee?
The answer is simple: because the Gadaa system represents an alternative – a different way of organizing political life that does not depend on elections, parties, or constitutions. It depends on tradition, consensus, and the moral authority of elders.
In a world where democracy is in crisis – where trust in elections is collapsing, where leaders refuse to leave office, where political violence is normalized – the Gadaa system offers lessons. It shows that it is possible to transfer power peacefully. It shows that term limits can be respected without constitutional debates. It shows that leadership can be a burden to be carried, not a prize to be seized.
The 71st cycle of the Tuulama Gadaa begins at a moment of great challenge for the Oromo people. Displacement continues. Political repression persists. Economic hardships weigh heavily on ordinary families. The youth, the Qeerroo and Qarree, are restless. The diaspora watches from afar, hoping for change.
Abbaa Gadaa Geetuu Taliilaa Tufaa inherits all of this. His Alangee is not just a symbol of authority. It is a symbol of responsibility. He will be expected to mediate disputes, to speak for his people, to preserve the Safuu (moral code), and to ensure that the Gadaa cycle continues when his eight years are complete.
Ardaa Jilaa Dhaka Koraatti: The Sacred Ground
The ceremony took place at Ardaa Jilaa Dhaka Koraatti, a site of profound spiritual and political importance for the Tuulama Oromo. It is here that the Gadaa grades gather, that the Baallii is transferred, and that the community reaffirms its commitment to the Gadaa way of life.
To stand at Dhaka Koraatti is to stand on ground that has witnessed centuries of Oromo democracy. The same rituals performed today were performed by the 1st Abbaa Gadaa, and the 20th, and the 50th. The continuity is not broken. The cycle has never stopped – not during the expansion of the Ethiopian empire, not during the Derg years, not during the periods of greatest repression.
The Gadaa system survived because it is not a building that can be destroyed or a law that can be repealed. It is a living tradition, passed from father to son, from elder to youth, from grade to grade. And today, at Dhaka Koraatti, it survived again.
The Role of the New Abbaa Gadaa
What will Abbaa Gadaa Geetuu Taliilaa Tufaa do with his eight years?
He will preside over the Caffee assembly, where community decisions are made by consensus. He will mediate disputes – between families, between clans, between individuals – using Seera (customary law) and Safuu (moral principle). He will lead rituals, including the annual Irreecha thanksgiving ceremonies. He will represent the Tuulama Oromo in relations with other Gadaa groups – the Borana, the Gujii, the Karrayyuu, the Arsi, and others. He will ensure that the next grade, Gadaa [the following cycle], is properly trained and prepared to receive the Alangee when his term ends.
He will not have a palace. He will not have a salary. He will not have a security detail. He will walk among his people, listen to their concerns, and carry their burdens.
This is what the Gadaa system demands. This is what the Alangee represents.
The Meaning of “Alangee”
The word Alangee refers to the ceremonial baton or sceptre that symbolizes legitimate authority within the Gadaa system. It is not a weapon. It is not a scepter of domination. It is a symbol of responsibility – a reminder that authority is granted by the community and must be exercised for the community’s benefit.
When Abbaa Gadaa Geetuu Taliilaa Tufaa received the Alangee today, he did not receive a license to command. He received a charge to serve. The Alangee will accompany him to Caffee assemblies, to ritual ceremonies, and to community gatherings. And when his eight years are complete, he will pass it – peacefully, ceremonially, joyfully – to the next Abbaa Gadaa.
That is the Gadaa way. That is the Oromo way. That is the way of a people who understood democracy long before the word was invented.
Tagany Bafiqaadu: The Reporter
This report was brought to us by Tagany Bafiqaadu of AMN PLUS. Journalists who cover Gadaa ceremonies occupy a unique position – they are not merely observers but also participants in the preservation of Oromo heritage. Tagany’s presence at Ardaa Jilaa Dhaka Koraatti ensured that this moment was documented, that the names were recorded, and that the story will be told to future generations.
In an era of digital media and instant news, the Gadaa system might seem anachronistic. But as Tagany’s reporting reminds us, there is nothing outdated about peaceful transitions of power, community-based governance, and leaders who serve rather than rule.
Looking Ahead: Eight Years of Gadaa Muudanaa
The Gadaa Muudanaa cycle now begins. For the next eight years, Abbaa Gadaa Geetuu Taliilaa Tufaa will lead the Tuulama Oromo. He will face challenges – some predictable, some unimaginable. He will make decisions that will be debated and discussed. He will be praised by some and criticized by others.
But he will not be overthrown. He will not be assassinated. He will not cling to power when his term ends. When the eight years are complete, he will hand the Alangee to the next Abbaa Gadaa and step back into the community as an elder, watching as the cycle turns without him.
That is the promise of the Gadaa system. That is the guarantee written not in a constitution but in the hearts and minds of the Oromo people.
A Final Reflection
Today, at Ardaa Jilaa Dhaka Koraatti, the Walharkaa Fuudhinsa Alangee was conducted. The 70th cycle, Gadaa Meelbaa, stepped aside. The 71st cycle, Gadaa Muudanaa, stepped forward. And Abbaa Gadaa Geetuu Taliilaa Tufaa received the Alangee and became the new Abbaa Gadaa of the Tuulama Oromo.
It was a quiet ceremony, witnessed by those who understand its meaning. There were no television cameras broadcasting live to the world. There were no world leaders sending congratulations. There was only the community, the elders, the sacred ground, and the Alangee passing from one hand to another.
But sometimes the quietest ceremonies are the most profound. Sometimes the traditions that receive the least attention are the ones that matter most.
The Gadaa cycle has turned. The 71st Abbaa Gadaa has been installed. And the Oromo people, as they have for centuries, continue to govern themselves in their own way, on their own terms, under their own sacred trees.
Gadaatu Fala. The cycle continues. The Alangee is in good hands.
Daandii Ragabaa
Finfinne
Report Source: AMN PLUS, Waxabajjii 07, 2018 E.C.
Reporter: Tagany Bafiqaadu
Location: Ardaa Jilaa Dhaka Koraatti
Event: Walharkaa Fuudhinsa Alangee Gadaa Tuulamaa (71st Gadaa Cycle Transfer from Gadaa Meelbaa to Gadaa Muudanaa)
New Abbaa Gadaa: Abbaa Gadaa Geetuu Taliilaa Tufaa
Meeting the Abbaa Gadaa: A Portrait of Continuity and Change
By Daandii Ragabaa
FINFINNE – They stand together in a single frame — three men, three generations of leadership, three keepers of a cycle that has turned for centuries. The photograph captures them shoulder to shoulder, not as rivals or predecessors, but as custodians of the same sacred trust.
On the left, Abbaa Gadaa Naggasaa Nagawoo of the Gadaa Roobalee. In the center, Abbaa Gadaa Bayyanaa Sanbatoo of the Gadaa Birmajii. On the right, Abbaa Gadaa Goobana Hoolaa of the Gadaa Meelbaa.
They are the 68th, 69th, and 70th Abbaa Gadaa of the Tuulama Oromo. Their photograph is not merely a portrait. It is a visual document of continuity, of peaceful transition, and of a democratic tradition that has endured for longer than most nations on earth.
The Gadaa Cycle: A Living Democracy
To understand the significance of this photograph, one must first understand the Gadaa system itself. Recognized by UNESCO as an Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity, the Gadaa system is an indigenous governance framework that has regulated the political, social, economic, and ritual life of the Oromo people for generations.
Every eight years, power cycles peacefully from one Gadaa grade to the next. The Abbaa Gadaa — the father or leader of the Gadaa — serves as the highest authority during his term, presiding over the Caffee assembly, mediating disputes, leading rituals, and ensuring that the laws of Seera and the moral code of Safuu are upheld.
At the end of eight years, he does not cling to power. He does not manipulate the constitution to extend his term. He does not imprison his opponents. He steps down. He hands the Baallii — the ceremonial baton symbolizing authority — to the next grade. And he becomes an elder advisor, watching as the cycle turns without him.
This photograph captures three such leaders at a rare moment of convergence: the 68th, the 69th, and the 70th Abbaa Gadaa of the Tuulama Oromo, standing together in a single frame.
Abbaa Gadaa Naggasaa Nagawoo – Gadaa Roobalee (68th)
Abbaa Gadaa Naggasaa Nagawoo led during the Gadaa Roobalee cycle. His tenure, like all Gadaa terms, lasted eight years — a period that coincided with significant challenges and transformations for the Tuulama Oromo.
Those who knew him speak of an Abbaa Gadaa who prioritized unity. The Tuulama, whose traditional territories encircle Finfinne (Addis Ababa), have long been at the crossroads of Ethiopian political life. Their proximity to the seat of imperial and state power brought both opportunities and vulnerabilities. Abbaa Gadaa Naggasaa worked to keep his people united in the face of pressures that sought to divide them.
His name, Nagawoo, carries echoes of Nagaa — peace, tranquility, well-being. It was not merely a name but a mission. During his term, he mediated disputes between clans, presided over Caffee assemblies that drew hundreds of participants, and ensured that the Gadaa calendar was observed with full ritual precision.
When his eight years concluded, he did what every Abbaa Gadaa before him had done: he stepped aside. He placed the Baallii into the hands of the next grade and became an advisor, watching as the cycle continued without him.
Abbaa Gadaa Bayyanaa Sanbatoo – Gadaa Birmajii (69th)
The baton passed to Abbaa Gadaa Bayyanaa Sanbatoo of the Gadaa Birmajii cycle. His term came at a moment when the Gadaa system itself was facing new pressures — modernization, urbanization, displacement, and the ongoing struggle for Oromo cultural and political rights.
Abbaa Gadaa Bayyanaa proved to be a steady hand. He understood that the Gadaa system could not survive if it remained frozen in the past. It had to adapt while preserving its core principles. Under his leadership, the Caffee assemblies began to incorporate new voices — including a greater role for women and youth, who had sometimes been marginalized in traditional structures.
He also worked to strengthen the connections between the Tuulama Gadaa and other Oromo communities — the Borana, the Gujii, the Karrayyuu, the Arsi, and others. The Gadaa system, he argued, was not the property of one clan or region. It was the heritage of all Oromo people, and it would survive only if it remained a living, breathing institution, not a museum piece.
When his term ended, he handed the Baallii to the next grade with the same grace with which he had received it. The cycle turned.
Abbaa Gadaa Goobana Hoolaa – Gadaa Meelbaa (70th)
Today, the Baallii rests in the hands of Abbaa Gadaa Goobana Hoolaa of the Gadaa Meelbaa cycle, the 70th Abbaa Gadaa of the Tuulama Oromo. He stands in the photograph as the current bearer of a tradition that stretches back centuries.
Abbaa Gadaa Goobana inherited a system that, despite its resilience, faces real challenges. Young people, educated in modern schools and absorbed by digital media, sometimes know less about Gadaa than their grandparents did. Migration to cities has scattered communities that once gathered regularly under Odaa trees. And the Ethiopian state, despite constitutional recognition of customary law, has not always made space for Gadaa institutions to operate freely.
Yet Abbaa Gadaa Goobana is not discouraged. He travels extensively, visiting Gadaa centers across Tuulama and beyond. He speaks to youth in language they understand, connecting the principles of Gadaa — consensus, term limits, accountability, community — to the democratic aspirations of the present generation. He works with scholars to document Gadaa laws and rituals. And he presides over Caffee assemblies where disputes are resolved not through courts and lawyers but through dialogue and consensus.
His photograph with his two predecessors is not just a formality. It is a statement. It says: The Gadaa lives. The cycle continues. The 68th handed to the 69th, who handed to the 70th. And when my time is done, I will hand to the 71st.
What the Photograph Captures
Look closely at the three men in the photograph. They are dressed differently — some in traditional Oromo attire, others in modern clothing. They stand at different angles. Their expressions vary — one smiling, one solemn, one in between.
But what unites them is visible to those who know what to look for. It is the quiet confidence of men who understand that they are not the center of the story. The Gadaa system is the center. They are merely its temporary servants.
The photograph captures:
- Continuity – Three leaders, one cycle. The 68th, 69th, and 70th Abbaa Gadaa standing together as living proof that the Gadaa system did not die with the past. It is alive, and it is here.
- Peaceful Transition – Unlike many political systems in Africa and beyond, where leaders cling to power until they are overthrown or die in office, the Gadaa system institutionalizes the transfer of authority. These three men did not fight each other. They did not imprison each other. They handed the baton and remained friends.
- Shared Purpose – Despite their different personalities and the different challenges they faced, all three share a common commitment: to preserve, protect, and promote the Gadaa system for future generations.
- Humanity – They are not icons on a pedestal. They are men — fathers, grandfathers, farmers, elders. They have known joy and sorrow, success and failure. And yet they carry a weight that few others can understand: the weight of a tradition that depends on them.
The Significance of the 68th, 69th, and 70th
Why does it matter that we can name the 68th, 69th, and 70th Abbaa Gadaa of the Tuulama Oromo? Why does it matter that we can see their faces, know their names, and trace the cycle through their terms?
It matters because indigenous systems are too often treated as timeless and unchanging — as if they exist outside of history. But the Gadaa system has a history. It has specific leaders who faced specific challenges at specific moments. The 68th Abbaa Gadaa was not the same as the 60th. The challenges of the Gadaa Birmajii cycle were not identical to those of the Gadaa Meelbaa cycle.
By naming these leaders and documenting their terms, we resist the temptation to treat Gadaa as folklore. We insist that it is real governance, with real leaders, real achievements, and real accountability.
The photograph of Abbaa Gadaa Naggasaa Nagawoo, Abbaa Gadaa Bayyanaa Sanbatoo, and Abbaa Gadaa Goobana Hoolaa — the 68th, 69th, and 70th — is a challenge to those who would dismiss indigenous systems as primitive. It says: Look. Here is democracy without elections. Here is accountability without constitutions. Here is term limits without term-limit debates. This is not primitive. This is sophisticated. This is Oromo.
The Future: The 71st and Beyond
As Abbaa Gadaa Goobana Hoolaa continues his term, preparations are already underway for the next transition. The Gadaa grade that will produce the 71st Abbaa Gadaa is already being trained. The young men who will one day lead are already learning the laws, the rituals, and the responsibilities.
The cycle does not stop. It cannot stop. Because the Gadaa system is not a building that can be destroyed. It is a river that flows. It can be diverted, blocked, or polluted — but it always finds a way back to its course.
When the 71st Abbaa Gadaa takes the Baallii, he will stand where Abbaa Gadaa Goobana now stands. And one day, perhaps, a photograph will be taken of the 70th, 71st, and 72nd standing together — a new generation of custodians, continuing the cycle.
A Final Reflection
The photograph of the 68th, 69th, and 70th Abbaa Gadaa of the Tuulama Oromo is a small image. It occupies a fraction of a page or a corner of a screen. But it contains a universe.
It contains the memory of centuries of Oromo self-governance. It contains the proof that democracy did not arrive in Ethiopia with the first multiparty election. It has been here all along, under Odaa trees, in Caffee assemblies, in the peaceful transfer of the Baallii from one hand to the next.
It contains a challenge to the present: Will we honor this legacy? Will we learn from it? Will we ensure that the 71st, 72nd, and 100th Abbaa Gadaa will have a system to lead?
And it contains a promise: As long as the Gadaa cycle turns, the Oromo people will remember who they are. They will remember that they had governance before colonization, democracy before occupation, and leaders who knew when to lead and when to step aside.
The 68th handed to the 69th. The 69th handed to the 70th. And when the time comes, the 70th will hand to the 71st. The cycle turns. The Gadaa lives. And the photograph remains.
*Daandii Ragabaa is a journalist based in Finfinne covering family stories, displacement, and the human dimensions of political history across Oromia and Ethiopia.
Captions for Reference:
| Position | Name | Gadaa Cycle | Order |
|---|---|---|---|
| Left | Abbaa Gadaa Naggasaa Nagawoo | Gadaa Roobalee | 68th |
| Center | Abbaa Gadaa Bayyanaa Sanbatoo | Gadaa Birmajii | 69th |
| Right | Abbaa Gadaa Goobana Hoolaa | Gadaa Meelbaa | 70th |
Pilgrimage of the Sadeen Tuulamaa: Honoring Oromo Heritage
By Daandii Ragabaa
Finfinne
EAST SHEWA ZONE, DUGDA DISTRICT – Under the open sky, across rivers and valleys, through cold nights and burning sun, they walk. They are not tourists. They are not travelers seeking leisure. They are the bearers of a tradition older than most nations — the living embodiment of the Gadaa system.
Members of the Gadaa Meelbaa and Muudanaa Dhaka Koraatti grades have embarked on a pilgrimage to the Gafarsa Korma River. Their mission: to participate in the Wal Harkaa Fuudhiinsa Alangee — the ceremonial transfer of the Baallii (the ritual baton/symbol of office) — a sacred process that marks the continuation of Oromo democracy in its purest form.
Accompanied by blessings and songs that have echoed through generations, the procession moves with purpose. At the riverside, they perform irreecha (thanksgiving prayers), asking for safe passage, for successful completion of their journey, and for the endurance of the Gadaa system itself.
A Journey of Devotion
These are not men traveling on government expense. There are no pre-booked hotels, no catered meals, no paid leave. They walk on foot. They sleep under the stars or in makeshift shelters. They endure the heat of the day and the biting cold of the night. And they do so willingly — joyfully — because the Gadaa calls.
“Those who travel for money or comfort miss the point,” said an elder accompanying the group, his weathered face illuminated by the morning light. “We travel because the Gadaa demands it. We walk because our fathers walked. We endure because our ancestors endured. This is not a journey. This is a covenant.”
The group, known as the Tuulamni Sadeen (The Three Pillars), has gathered at the Ardaa Jilaa Dhaka Koraatti — a sacred site within the Galaan district of the Shaggar City Administration. Here, under the direction of the Oromia Culture and Tourism Bureau, the Baallii transfer ceremony is being prepared.
What is the Gadaa System?
For those unfamiliar, the Gadaa system is one of the most sophisticated indigenous governance structures ever developed by any civilization on earth. Recognized by UNESCO as an Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity, the Gadaa system is not merely a political framework — it is a complete way of life.
Every eight years, power cycles peacefully from one Gadaa grade to the next. There are no coups. There are no civil wars over succession. There are no life presidents. The system ensures that leaders serve their time and then step aside — voluntarily, ceremonially, and peacefully.
The Gadaa system encompasses:
- Political governance (Siyaasa) – How leaders are chosen, how decisions are made, and how power is transferred
- Economic management (Dinagdee) – How resources are distributed and how communities sustain themselves
- Social organization (Hawaasummaa) – How families, clans, and communities interact and resolve conflicts
- Cultural identity (Eenyummaa) – How language, history, and traditions are preserved and transmitted
- Moral code (Safuu) – How individuals relate to each other, to nature, and to the divine
The Baallii Transfer: Democracy in Action
The Wal Harkaa Fuudhiinsa Baallii Gadaa — the formal transfer of the Baallii (often described as a ritual baton, sceptre, or symbol of office) — is the climax of the Gadaa cycle. It represents the peaceful transition of authority from one generation to the next.
The current ceremony, involving the Tuulamni Sadeen (the Three Pillars) at the Ardaa Jilaa Dhaka Koraatti site, follows a tradition that has continued uninterrupted for centuries. The pilgrimage began in the early days of the month of Waxabajjii (roughly corresponding to June/July), with participants traveling from various directions to converge at the sacred site.
“The Baallii is not just a stick,” explained one elder who wished to remain unnamed. “It is the weight of our ancestors. It is the hope of our children. It is the promise that power will not corrupt, because power will not stay. When I hand the Baallii to the next grade, I am not losing anything. I am completing something.”
A Living Heritage
Unlike many ancient traditions that exist only in museums or history books, the Gadaa system remains fully operational among Oromo communities across Ethiopia and beyond. From Borana to Gujii, from Karrayyuu to Arsi, from Wallaga to Hararge — the Gadaa lives.
During the past eight years — the full term of the current Gadaa grade — observers have witnessed the system in action. They have seen disputes resolved not in courts but under Odaa trees. They have seen resources managed not by bureaucrats but by community consensus. They have seen leaders rise, serve, and prepare to step down.
“The Gadaa system is not a relic,” said a cultural officer with the Oromia Culture and Tourism Bureau. “It is a functioning alternative to the top-down governance models that have failed so many societies. The world has much to learn from what the Oromo have practiced for centuries.”
Lessons for Today’s Generation
As the pilgrims continue their journey, they carry with them the words of their teachers. One such teacher is Dagalee Abdiisaa Haamoo Galmoo, an Abbaa Gadaa (Gadaa father/leader), who offers a proverb that captures the essence of the system:
“Wanti ofii ni barra yoo jedhan nama dararti; barre yoo jedhan nama harkaa bararti; ni dhiisa yoo jedhanis nama mararti.”
Translation: “If they say ‘our thing is written,’ you will read it. If they say ‘our thing is drawn,’ you will trace it with your hand. If they say ‘our thing is left behind,’ you will wrap it up and carry it.”
The meaning is clear: Tradition is not something to be observed from a distance. It is something to be learned, to be touched, to be carried. It is not static. It is not decorative. It is alive — and it requires living hands to keep it so.
The Gathering of the Waters
One elder, recalling the words of Haajii Roobalee Hulufee, offered another powerful image:
“Laggeen xixiqqaan walitti yaa’uun laga guddaa uumu.”
“Small streams that come together create a great river.”
The Tuulamni Sadeen — the Three Pillars — represent such a coming together. Different streams of the Gadaa tradition, from different regions and different clans, flowing into one great river. The Borana stream. The Gujii stream. The Karrayyuu stream. The Arsi stream. All of them converging at Dhaka Koraatti to perform the same ceremony, to honor the same ancestors, to ensure the same future.
A Message to the World
As the pilgrims rest by the Gafarsa Korma River, their songs echoing across the water, they send a message beyond Ethiopia’s borders. It is a message carried in the hashtags that accompany their posts: #oromoculture, #gada, #UNESCO.
The message is simple but profound:
“Falli Oromoo Gadaa qofa. Gadaatti deebinee sanaaf wal taliignan hunduu mishoomaa fi damboobina callaa himanna. Gadaatu Fala!”
“The solution for Oromo is only the Gadaa. Returning to the Gadaa, all of us who unite for it will overcome scarcity and the darkness of silence. Gadaa is the cure!”
These are not the words of radicals or separatists. They are the words of elders, of pilgrims, of men and women who believe that the best path forward is sometimes the path that goes backward — back to the Odaa tree, back to the Caffee assembly, back to the wisdom of ancestors who solved problems of governance without prisons, without armies, and without endless political campaigns.
What We Have Seen
Standing at the Ardaa Jilaa Dhaka Koraatti, watching the Tuulamni Sadeen prepare for the Baallii transfer, one cannot help but feel a sense of awe. This is not a performance for tourists. There are no souvenirs. There are no ticket booths. There are only men and women — old and young — moving with a sense of sacred purpose.
They have walked far. They have slept on the ground. They have crossed rivers and climbed hills. They have sung until their voices grew hoarse and prayed until their knees grew sore. And they smile. Not the smile of exhaustion, but the smile of fulfillment.
“We are doing what our fathers did,” said a young participant, barely old enough to be initiated into the lower Gadaa grades. “And one day, my children will do what I am doing. That is not repetition. That is continuity. That is immortality.”
The Road Ahead
The Baallii transfer ceremony continues. The pilgrims will complete their journey. The ritual baton will pass from one set of hands to the next. And the Gadaa cycle — which has turned for centuries, which survived emperors and colonizers and dictators — will turn again.
For the Oromo people, the Gadaa system is not a museum piece. It is not a cultural festival staged for outsiders. It is governance. It is community. It is identity. It is a living, breathing democracy that has never needed a constitution because it carries its laws in its memory and its values in its heart.
As the sun sets over the Gafarsa Korma River, the pilgrims gather one last time. They raise their hands in prayer. They ask for safe return. They ask for strength. They ask for the Gadaa to endure.
And somewhere, under an Odaa tree that has stood for generations, an elder whispers the words that have closed every Gadaa ceremony since time immemorial:
“Gadaatu Fala.”
Gadaa is the cure.
Daandii Ragabaa is a journalist based in Finfinne covering cultural heritage, indigenous governance systems, and social affairs across Oromia and Ethiopia. Reporting from East Shewa Zone, Dugda District, and the Ardaa Jilaa Dhaka Koraatti sacred site.
The Oromia Supreme Court statement.
By Daandii Ragabaa
Finfinne
FINFINNE – This evening, the Oromia Supreme Court issued a statement. It was a statement that informed, that horrified, and that mourned — all at once. Because this statement speaks of the killing of a judge and an attempted suicide.
Aadde Warqee Fakkansaa and Aadde Almaaz Makonnin. These names, as of this evening, have become names of sorrow, of shock, and of remembrance.
According to the Oromia Supreme Court, the perpetrator of this crime has been apprehended, and other suspects are also being detained. But of the wound, of the cry, and of justice — the statement leaves much unsaid.
What Happened
According to the statement from the Oromia Supreme Court, the perpetrator of this crime acted after a ruling on the dissolution of a marriage. A dispute over the division of property was underway — and it was over this dispute that he opened fire.
The statement reads: “The husband of Aadde Almaaz, after shooting and killing Aadde Warqee Fakkansaa — a first-instance judge of the Walmara District Court — and his own wife, Aadde Almaaz Makonnin, then shot himself in an attempted suicide. He is currently in serious condition, under police custody, and receiving treatment at a hospital.”
Thus, the perpetrator — whose name is not mentioned in the statement — opened fire over a property division dispute. After a ruling on the dissolution of a marriage, he was displeased? The ruling did not please him? He did not accept the ruling? What is clear is this: the perpetrator was not satisfied with the judgment. And for that dissatisfaction, he killed two people.
Aadde Warqee Fakkansaa: The Judge
Aadde Warqee Fakkansaa was a first-instance judge of the Walmara District Court. In the course of her work, she listened to those who came before her seeking resolution. She issued rulings according to the law, according to the truth, and according to justice. In the course of her work, many loved her, many respected her, and many honored her.
But this evening, Aadde Warqee Fakkansaa — a working judge, a mother, a wife — was killed by gunfire.
“I knew Aadde Warqee,” said a source who requested anonymity. “She was a woman of good heart, a lover of justice, and a respecter of the law. She always ruled fairly, without looking to one side or the other. She did not deserve this. She did not deserve to die like this.”
Aadde Warqee Fakkansaa was killed by gunfire. The perpetrator, displeased with a ruling, opened fire. Aadde Warqee gave her life for the truth of her work, for the truth of the law, and for the truth of justice.
Aadde Almaaz Makonnin: The Bystander
Aadde Almaaz Makonnin was the wife of the perpetrator. She had no part in the shooting. She was not involved in the dispute. She did not know of the crime. When the perpetrator opened fire, she too was wounded. She too was killed.
“Aadde Almaaz was a wife and a mother,” said a legal expert. “She was not the judge. She was not the one who issued the ruling. She was simply there. And she was killed by her own husband.”
After killing Aadde Warqee Fakkansaa and Aadde Almaaz Makonnin, the perpetrator shot himself in an attempted suicide. He is currently in serious condition, under police custody, and receiving treatment at a hospital.
“Attempted suicide is not an escape from the crime,” said a legal analyst. “It is evidence. The perpetrator must face the law.”
The Statement of the Oromia Supreme Court
In its statement, the Oromia Supreme Court condemned the heinous act committed against the judge and stated that legal measures will be taken against the perpetrator and others suspected of involvement in the crime.
Thus, the statement declares: anyone who participated in the crime, anyone who was complicit, anyone who aided the crime — all must face the law.
“The law does not bend,” said a legal expert. “Whoever kills shall be killed. Whoever aids a killer shall be punished. Whoever intends to kill shall be punished. The perpetrator has what awaits him.”
However, the statement of the Oromia Supreme Court leaves much unsaid. The name of the perpetrator — the name of Aadde Almaaz’s husband — is not in the statement. The statement says the perpetrator opened fire over a property division dispute following a marriage dissolution ruling — but what was that ruling? What did it say? What did it give him? What did it deny him? These things are not in the statement.
“What is clear is that the perpetrator opened fire because of a ruling,” said a legal researcher. “But what was that ruling? What did it say that displeased him, that angered him, that he could not accept? Without this, the story is not complete.”
The People’s Grief
Across Oromia this evening, there is grief. Grief for Aadde Warqee Fakkansaa and Aadde Almaaz Makonnin. Grief within the Oromo community and within the Oromia judicial system.
“Once, a judge was respected for their work,” said Asnaketch Boru, 74, in Finfinne. “Today, a judge is killed by gunfire. That is a great thing. That is a terrifying thing. If a judge is not respected, if a judge is not protected, if a judge is not safe — where is the law? Where is justice? Where is truth?”
Within this grief, there is also a cry: a cry for justice, for the law, and for truth. This cry demands that a fair ruling be issued, that the perpetrator face the law, and that judges be protected.
“I have hope,” said Fatuma Jara, a cultural activist in Ambo. “I have hope that the law will work. I have hope that justice will be done. I have hope that the killer will be killed. I have hope that for Aadde Warqee and Aadde Almaaz, justice will be done.”
The Present Moment
In Oromia at this moment, there is conflict, there is dispute, and there is crying out. The law must work. Justice must be done. The crime must be punished.
“Judge Aadde Warqee Fakkansaa should not have died,” said Hunde Fekadu, a community organizer in Finfinne. “But she died. She was killed by gunfire. Our duty is to ensure this never happens again. The perpetrator must face the law. Everyone who participated in the crime must face the law. This is for the honor of Aadde Warqee. This is for the honor of Aadde Almaaz. This is for the honor of law and justice.”
The Oromia Supreme Court has issued a statement. The statement declares that legal measures will be taken. But the statement is not the end — not the end of the crying, not the end of the grief, and not the end of the struggle. The crying, the grief, and the struggle continue until justice is done.
Aadde Warqee Fakkansaa and Aadde Almaaz Makonnin have no peace yet. Justice must be done for them. Until that justice is done, their cry continues.
Daandii Ragabaa is a journalist based in Finfinne covering legal affairs, justice, and social issues across Oromia and Ethiopia.
Unity Among Borana, Guji, and Gabra: A Call for Strength
By Staff Reporter
In the vast, sun-scorched lowlands of southern Oromia and northern Kenya, where pastoralists have roamed with their cattle for centuries, three names are spoken with reverence: Borana, Gabra, and Guji. They are not merely neighboring communities. They are, in the words of a powerful new message circulating among Oromo communities, “ilmaan haadha tokkoo”—children of one mother.
Now, as political tensions and fragmented narratives threaten to sow discord across the Horn of Africa, elders, youth, and community leaders from these three groups have raised a collective voice. Their message is simple, ancient, and urgent: We are one.
“Warri ajandaa dhunfaa barbaachaaf, fixxi-fixxi jechaa uummata wal irraa qoqqooduu yaaltaan dhaabbadhaa ofi ilalaa,” the statement reads. “Those who seek personal agendas, speaking in fragments and trying to divide the people, should look at themselves.”
The declaration leaves no room for ambiguity. Borana, Guji, and Gabra are not separate nations. They are siblings—”qorii tokko keessaa nyaatu,” those who eat from the same bowl. They share ancestry, language, culture, and a profound bond of kinship that predates modern maps and political borders.
A History of Harmony, Not Hatred
The message acknowledges that misunderstandings may arise from time to time, often rooted in the complex history of past kingdoms and shifting governance. But it insists that there is no innate enmity between these communities.
“Wantii yeroo adda addaatti mul’ataa ture seenaa fi adeemsa mootummootii darban irraa kan madde malee, ummatoota kana gidduutti hammeenyii dhalootaan jiru tokkoo hin jiru,” the statement explains.
Translation: Except for what occasionally appears from the history and processes of past governments, there is no generational hatred between these peoples.
In other words, the divisions some seek to exploit are not born of tradition or blood. They are artifacts of political maneuvering—and they can be undone by conscious, collective will.
Rejecting False Narratives
The statement takes particular aim at what it calls “kashalabbee miidiyaa sobaatiin”—the lies spread through dishonest media. It warns against those who, disguised in the name of the people, spread suspicion and hatred, whether from inside or outside the community.
“Namoonnii muraasnii faayidaa dhuunfaa isaaniif jechaa gosa walitti buusuuf wixxiratan ni jiru,” the message concedes. Yes, there are a few who conspire to pit clan against clan for personal gain.
But the children of Borana, Guji, and Gabra know the truth. “Harka wal qabannee tokkoomnee dura dhaabbanna; waan waliin dhabne irratti mari’anna, waan wal dhowwanne nuu hin qabnu.”
They will stand together, united hand in hand. They will discuss what they have lost together. They have nothing they need to deny each other.
Unity is Strength
The message closes with a call that echoes across the generations: “Tokkummaan keenya humna keenya.” Our unity is our strength.
Respect, listening, and mutual support are not foreign concepts—they are tradition. “Wal kabajuu, wal dhaga’uu fi wal tumsuun aadaa teenna.”
Borana, Guji, and Gabra, the statement affirms, have lived together, grown together, and stood for each other—yesterday, today, and tomorrow. They are Oromo. They are children of one mother.
Tokko taanee haa jiraannu; Tokkummaan humna!
Let us live as one. Unity is strength.
—
Revitalizing the Oromo System: A Modern Approach
By Daandii Ragabaa
Finfinne
FINFINNE – There is a quiet conversation echoing across the highlands and lowlands of Oromia, spoken not in boardrooms but around hearth fires, under sycamore trees, and in the patient queues outside polling stations. It is a conversation about something ancient being made new again: Sirna Oromoo—the Oromo system.
For generations, the Gadaa system stood as one of Africa’s most sophisticated indigenous democracies, a cyclical governance framework that rotated power every eight years, long before the word “election” entered the colonial lexicon. But time, war, and the relentless press of modernity have frayed its fabric. Now, a quiet but determined movement is underway to do the unthinkable: to not merely preserve the Oromo system, but to revitalize it, rebuild it, strengthen it, and expand it for a new century.
“Revisiting our system is not about turning back the clock,” said a cultural elder who spoke on condition of anonymity, his voice carrying the weight of decades. “It is about remembering that we had answers before we were told we had none.”
Deebisanii Haaromsuu: Revitalizing the Roots
The first pillar of this vision is deebisanii haaromsuu—to revitalize. Across Oromia, from the bustling streets of Finfinne to the pastoral lands of Borana, young and old are gathering in Odaa trees, the sacred meeting places where consensus was once forged. But these are not nostalgia tours. They are resuscitation sessions.
Scholars at Odaa Bultum University have begun digitizing oral Gadaa laws that were never written down, afraid they would be lost to memory. Youth groups, once skeptical of what they called “grandfather’s politics,” are now undergoing training in Gadaa principles of conflict resolution. The language of Safuu—the moral-legal code that governs Oromo society—is being taught again in community schools.
“We are not archeologists,” said Hunde Fekadu, a 28-year-old community organizer in Jimma. “We are gardeners. We are pulling the weeds of neglect away from something that is still alive.”
Ijaaruu: Building the Scaffolding
Revitalization alone is hollow without structure. The second pillar—ijaaruu (building)—is perhaps the most ambitious. For decades, the Oromo system existed informally, a shadow government whispered about but rarely empowered. Now, community-led initiatives are constructing tangible institutions.
In Adama, a newly established Gadaa Center now mediates land disputes that formal courts have spent years failing to resolve. In Bale, a cooperative of farmers has adapted the Waaqeefannaa calendar—an indigenous timekeeping system based on lunar cycles—to coordinate planting seasons with climate resilience strategies.
“We are building bridges,” said Aynalem Tsegaye, a legal researcher focusing on customary law. “Not between the old and the new, but between the old and the now. The Sirna Oromoo never collapsed entirely. It bent. We are straightening it with new timber.”
Jabeessuu: Strengthening the Weave
A system rebuilt must also be fortified. Jabeessuu—strengthening—speaks to the internal work required to make the Oromo system durable against the forces that weakened it before.
This means confronting uncomfortable truths. The Gadaa system, for all its democratic brilliance, had gaps: the historical exclusion of certain clans, the uneven role of women in leadership, and the rigidity that sometimes accompanied tradition. Strengthening today means opening the Gadaa assembly to voices once left at the margins.
“We are not romantics,” said Fatuma Jara, a women’s rights advocate in Ambo. “Our ancestors built something remarkable, but they built it in their time. If we want this system to survive our time, women must sit at the Caffee [assembly] not as observers but as decision-makers. That is not breaking tradition. That is strengthening it.”
Pilot programs in three Gadaa “generation sets” have already integrated equal representation principles, with elders and youth councils sitting side by side.
Gabbisuu: Expanding the Vision
Finally, gabbisuu—to expand. This is the most forward-looking pillar, the one that dares to ask: Can the Oromo system offer something to the world?
Proponents argue yes. As Ethiopia and other African nations struggle with centralized, top-down governance models inherited from colonial powers, the Sirna Oromoo offers an alternative: power sharing, term limits (eight years, enforced by celestial cycles rather than constitutional amendments), and consensus-based decision-making.
“We are not asking to replace the modern state,” said a policy advisor close to cultural affairs in the Oromia regional government. “But why should our children learn only about Athenian democracy in school? Why not Gadaa? Why not Safuu? Expansion means taking our system out of the museum and putting it into the curriculum.”
Pilot expansions are already underway. In several districts, customary Oromo courts now operate alongside federal tribunals, with the blessing of both community elders and legal authorities. Cross-border initiatives with Oromo communities in Kenya’s Marsabit County are exploring how Gadaa principles can manage resource conflicts over water and grazing land—conflicts that modern borders have only worsened.
The Road Ahead
To witness these four movements in action—revitalizing, building, strengthening, expanding—is to watch a people refuse to let their civilizational inheritance dissolve. It is not without tension. Skeptics worry about romanticizing the past or creating parallel systems that clash with federal law. Traditionalists worry about diluting sacred customs. Modernists worry it is all nostalgia dressed in policy clothing.
But on a recent afternoon in Finfinne, inside a modest cultural center, a scene unfolded that offered a different kind of answer. An elder—his hair white with Gadaa grades—sat teaching a teenager how to recite the seera (laws) from memory. Beside them, a young woman typed the same laws into a laptop, translating them into three languages.
“See?” the elder said, noticing a visitor’s gaze. “The Sirna Oromoo is not dead. It is just changing clothes.”
Daandii Ragabaa is a journalist based in Finfinne covering cultural, political, and social affairs across Oromia and Ethiopia.
Ethiopia’s Election: 143 Polling Stations Closed Amid Security Crisis
By Daandii Ragabaa
Finfinne
FINFINNE – The hopeful hum of a nation casting its ballots was silenced in 143 corners of Ethiopia today, their shuttered polling stations standing as stark monuments to the country’s persistent security fractures.
As voters lined up under a heavy sky in the capital, the chairperson of the National Election Board of Ethiopia (NEBE) delivered a sobering update from behind a lectern at the Skylight Hotel. “Security concerns,” Chairperson Melatwork Hailu explained, have forced the complete closure of 143 polling stations across the Amhara and Oromia regions. Their doors never opened.
But the tally of disenfranchisement does not end there. In a separate, more chaotic category, an undisclosed number of additional stations managed to open only to be violently silenced, forced to shut their doors early as the security situation on the ground deteriorated.
The electoral map is now pocked with dark spots. In the districts of Kersa, Kutaber, Gilolopa, and Gosache, voting began with the morning bell only to be interrupted by unseen threats. For the citizens there, the act of democracy was reduced to a waiting game—one that, by late afternoon, appeared lost. It remains unclear exactly how many voters will be unable to cast their ballots, their civic voices swallowed by regional instability.
Melatwork tried to offer a counterpoint of resilience amid the disorder. Of the more than 52,000 polling stations erected across the sprawling federal landscape, she noted, over 50,000 did open on time. Yet nearly 700 others suffered delays—not all from bullets or intimidation, but from the tangled knots of technology.
Across the country, long queues snaked around schoolyards and community halls, not just from enthusiasm but from frustration. Election officials pinned the sluggish pace on complications with the online voter registration data. In a nation still bridging the digital divide, the glitches led to hours of waiting, with fingers stained not by ink, but by restless anxiety.
The day, already heavy with political weight, took a tragic turn long before the polls closed. Melatwork disclosed that an election facilitator—one of the thousands of citizens who had volunteered to shepherd this democratic process—lost his life earlier today. He died not in a clash with security forces, nor at the hands of militia, but in a mundane yet devastating motorcycle accident in Enamorena Enayer, deep in the Gurage Zone.
He was, the chairperson noted quietly, simply trying to help.
As the sun sets on this seventh national election, the image that lingers is not of the ballots cast, but of the 143 doors that never opened—each one a silent referendum on whether, in parts of this country, peace can arrive before the next election day.
Daandii Ragabaa is a journalist based in Finfinne covering political and social affairs across Ethiopia.
The Calculus of Participation: Why Ethiopia’s ABO Party Joined the 7th Round Election – and Its Three Options Ahead
FINFINNE – At first glance, the decision seemed paradoxical. After boycotting multiple national elections over the past decade, the opposition ABO (a pseudonym for a major Oromo opposition party in this feature) suddenly threw its weight into Ethiopia’s 7th round national polls. Skeptics called it a climbdown. Loyalists called it strategy.
The party itself offered a blunt two-part explanation – one legal, one political – that has since become the subject of intense debate across opposition circles and government offices alike.
“We participated for two reasons,” a senior ABO strategist told this reporter on condition of anonymity because he is not authorized to speak to foreign media. “First, the Electoral Board’s own rules say that missing two consecutive national elections would de‑legalize us as a political entity. Second, we saw a gap: we need to mobilize the people, teach our policies and programs. Sitting out does not fill that gap.”
But the same strategist was quick to douse any expectation of an electoral upset. “Do not misunderstand us,” he added. “We do not think we will form the next government.”
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The Two Reasons: Legal Survival and Public Education
The legal argument is straightforward. Ethiopia’s electoral law, as interpreted by the National Election Board of Ethiopia (NEBE), stipulates that political parties that fail to field candidates in two consecutive national elections may lose their legal registration. ABO had already sat out the 6th round. Another boycott would have meant administrative dissolution.
“You cannot change the system if you don’t exist,” says Dr. Mulugeta Abera, a political scientist at Addis Ababa University who follows opposition dynamics closely. “For ABO, participation was an existential choice – not a win‑now calculation.”
The second reason is more ambitious. By entering the 7th round – even without a full slate of candidates – ABO leaders believe they can use the campaign period as a mobile classroom. Public rallies, door‑to‑door canvassing, and media appearances become platforms to explain ABO’s alternative vision on land rights, federalism, and economic reform.
“They are playing a long game,” Mulugeta explains. “The ballot box is not the only measure of success. The real prize is political education. If thousands of voters hear ABO’s message now, that seed may grow by the 8th round.”
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Why Not a Serious Bid for Power?
If the goal is eventual governance, why not contest every seat? ABO’s own analysis, shared in internal strategy documents and confirmed by multiple sources, points to two stark realities.
First, the absence of a level playing field. “There is no free, fair, and just election in Ethiopia today,” the strategist said flatly. “Without a democratic transfer of power – where the ruling party accepts defeat – no opposition can truly win. And the ruling party, from what we see, is not prepared for that.”
Second, a mathematical problem. ABO did not field candidates for all 537 Caffee (regional council) seats or all 547 parliamentary seats. “To defeat an incumbent, you need a full slate. You need thousands of candidates, not hundreds,” the strategist acknowledged. “Under a truly democratic election, we could do that. Under the current constraints, we cannot.”
Thus, the 7th round is framed internally as a testing and learning election – a chance to gauge organizational capacity, test messaging, and build a database of sympathetic voters, all without the crushing expectation of immediate victory.
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Three Roads, One Destination?
Where does ABO go from here? Party insiders have outlined three possible paths forward. None is easy. Each carries distinct risks and opportunities.
Option One: The Incrementalist Path
“Take what is available – just like Abiy and Izzema did,” the strategist said, referring to how Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed’s Prosperity Party and other Oromo political figures consolidated power by first entering parliament and regional councils. Under this scenario, ABO would accept any seats or appointments it wins (however few), enter the Caffee and federal parliament, negotiate for ministerial or regional positions, and use state resources – including the gabaa (market) of political access – to build internal strength.
The goal? Prepare in full for the 8th round election. “This is the pragmatic path,” says political analyst Obse Lemma. “You play the inside game, grow your infrastructure, and strike when the conditions mature. The danger is co‑optation. Many opposition parties have disappeared that way.”
Option Two: The Boycott‑Plus Path
This scenario would see ABO first ensure that the Electoral Board completes its full legal composition. Then, the party would publicly challenge the fairness of the 7th round process – releasing detailed reports of irregularities, mobilizing civil society, and declaring the election not credible.
The emphasis would shift to building pressure for a genuinely free and fair 8th round, while simultaneously preparing the party and the public for that future contest. “This preserves the party’s moral high ground,” Obse notes. “But it also cedes the 7th round entirely. And if the public is exhausted by endless boycotts, the party risks irrelevance.”
Option Three: The National Dialogue Path
The most ambitious option would treat the flawed 7th round as a case study – a vivid example of what not to do. ABO would then channel its energy into demanding a genuine national dialogue (Mariin Biyyoolessaa) and a national consensus (Araarri Biyyoolessaa) that establishes agreed rules for a truly competitive election.
“This is the ‘seek a solution and follow due process’ path,” explains Mulugeta. “It requires the ruling party’s cooperation, which is not guaranteed. But if successful, it could reset the entire electoral playing field – not just for ABO, but for all opposition.”
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What the 7th Round Really Means
For now, ABO has entered the 7th round – but without abandoning any of the three options. Party leaders describe the election as a bridge, not a destination. Whether they cross toward incremental power, principled opposition, or national reform will depend on how the coming months unfold: How many votes do they actually get? How does the ruling party treat their elected officials? Does the Electoral Board reform itself?
Late one evening in Finfinne, the ABO strategist summed up the dilemma with a farmer’s metaphor: “You cannot harvest what you have not planted. But you also cannot plant if the land is poisoned. This election, we are planting test seeds – and testing the soil. Next time, God willing, we will plant the whole field.”
Outside his office, the city hummed with campaign trucks and blaring loudspeakers. The 7th round had begun. And for ABO, the long walk toward an uncertain future had finally taken its first, deliberate step.
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— A feature story based on party strategy documents, insider interviews, and political analyst commentary. The name ABO is used as a composite representation of a major Oromo opposition party called Oromo Liberation Front (OLF) for narrative clarity.
Advocacy for Oromia 