Category Archives: Information
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.
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 Three Pillars of Tuulamaa: Unraveling the Genealogy of an Oromo Nation
In the vast tapestry of Oromo history, few lineages carry the weight and significance of the Tuulamaa. As one of the major branches descending from the legendary Booranaa, the Tuulamaa Oromo represent a people whose ancestral roots run deep into the soil of eastern Africa, their branches spreading across generations, their leaves whispering the stories of a civilization that has thrived for centuries.
The Tuulamaa are not merely a name in the annals of history; they are a living, breathing community whose identity is encoded in the very structure of their genealogy. At the heart of this identity lies a simple yet profound framework: “Sadeen Tuulamaa” — the Three Tuulamaa.
The Sacred Three: Daaccii, Bachoo, and Jiillee
Just as the ancient world recognized the power of three—past, present, future; birth, life, death—the Tuulamaa trace their origins through three primary branches that form the foundation of their entire social and political structure:
BOORANAA │ ▼TUULAMAA │ ┌─────────────┼─────────────┐ │ │ │ DAACCII BACHOO JIILLEE
These three names are not simply labels; they are the pillars upon which the identity of the Tuulamaa people rests. Each branch carries its own distinct history, its own sub-clans, and its own contributions to the collective story of the Oromo nation.
Daaccii: The House of Many Branches
The Daaccii stands as the first and most expansive pillar of the Tuulamaa. Within its embrace, three major lineages emerge, each with its own constellation of sub-clans:
Galaan — The Six
The “Jahan Galaan,” or the Six Galaan, represents the intricate web of relationships that bind the Tuulamaa people. These six houses are:
- Jiddaa
- Liiban
- Abbuu
- Adaa
- Warra Jaarsoo
- Gadullaa
Each of these names carries the weight of history, representing families that have contributed to the economic, political, and cultural life of the Tuulamaa for generations.
Oboo — The Seven
The “Torban Oboo,” or the Seven Oboo, represents another crucial dimension of the Daaccii lineage:
- Gumbichuu
- Gullallee
- Oborrii
- Yaayyaa
- Eekkaa
- Diigaluu
- Gamuu
Historical studies have particularly highlighted Gullallee, Yaayyaa, and Gumbichuu as prominent Oboo descendants, their names echoing through the corridors of Oromo oral tradition.
Sooddoo — The Three
The “Sadeen Sooddoo,” or the Three Sooddoo, completes the Daaccii trilogy:
- Odituu
- Liiban
- Tum’ee
This tripartite structure reflects the Oromo love for order and categorization, a system that has enabled these communities to maintain their identity across centuries.
Bachoo: The Six Houses
The second pillar, Bachoo, embodies the concept of “Jahan Bachoo” — the Six Bachoo. This branch of the Tuulamaa lineage comprises:
- Iluu
- Mettaa
- Uruu
- Garasuu
- Waajituu
- Keekuu
These six houses represent a significant portion of the Tuulamaa population, their members scattered across the Oromo territories yet united by the common thread of shared ancestry. The consistency with which these names appear across various studies—from Haramaya University to contemporary Gadaa structures—testifies to the enduring nature of this genealogical framework.
Jiillee: The Third Pillar
The Jiillee branch, as the third pillar of the Sadeen Tuulamaa, presents a fascinating complexity. Unlike the clearly defined structures of Daaccii and Bachoo, Jiillee exhibits a more intricate pattern that has been documented by Haramaya University research.
The Jiillee-6 structure comprises:
- Goona (with 12 sub-clans)
- Guusa (with 5 sub-clans)
- Looyyaa (with 3 sub-clans)
- Siibaa (with 5 sub-clans)
- Gindoo (with 7 sub-clans)
- Warree (with 3 sub-clans)
The numbers accompanying each name represent the documented sub-divisions, highlighting the remarkable complexity of this genealogical system. This intricate structure demonstrates that for the Oromo, identity is not a simple matter of one name but a layered reality that encompasses multiple levels of belonging.
The Architecture of Society: Gosa → Mana → Balbala
Beyond the broad branches of genealogy, the Tuulamaa social structure follows a remarkably organized pattern. The hierarchy moves from:
- Gosa (the clan) at the broadest level
- Mana (the house or family) at the intermediate level
- Balbala (the door or household branch) at the most specific level
This tripartite structure reflects a society that values both collective identity and individual family ties. It is a system that has enabled the Tuulamaa to maintain social cohesion while allowing for the organic growth and diversification that comes with generations of expansion.
A Living Tradition
The genealogy of the Tuulamaa is not a relic of the past confined to dusty academic texts. As recent as 2026, reports and studies continue to reference Daaccii, Bachoo, and Jiillee as the “Ilmaan Tuulamaa Sadeen” — the Three Children of Tuulamaa. This ongoing recognition within the Gadaa structure demonstrates that these ancient lineages continue to shape contemporary Oromo identity.
In the modern context, the Tuulamaa genealogy serves as:
- A source of identity — connecting individuals to their ancestral heritage
- A framework for social organization — providing structure for community relations
- A foundation for governance — informing the Gadaa system that continues to play a role in Oromo society
- A bridge to the past — maintaining the continuity of Oromo culture across generations
The Deeper Meaning
The Tuulamaa genealogical structure is more than a list of names. It is a testament to the Oromo people’s sophisticated understanding of social organization, their commitment to preserving their heritage, and their ability to maintain cultural continuity across centuries of change.
Each name—from Daaccii to Jiillee, from Jiddaa to Tum’ee—represents not just a line of descent but a community of people with shared values, shared history, and shared destiny. The genealogy tells the story of migrations, of settlements, of alliances and divisions. It speaks of families that grew into clans, of clans that became nations.
In the shade of the Odaa tree, where Oromo elders have gathered for generations, these names are spoken with reverence. They are the vocabulary of identity, the grammar of belonging, the poetry of a people who have known that knowing who you are is the first step toward knowing where you are going.
A Call to Remember
As the Tuulamaa Oromo navigate the complexities of the modern world, their ancient genealogy remains a compass—a reminder of the roots that sustain them, the branches that connect them, and the tree of life that continues to grow.
For the Daaccii, the Bachoo, and the Jiillee, the story is still being written. New generations will add their names to the great genealogical tree, but they will never forget that they are branches of a mighty trunk: Tuulamaa, child of Booranaa, heir to a civilization that has weathered the storms of history and emerged still standing, still proud, still Oromo.
Sources and Further Reading:
- Haramaya University Studies on Tuulamaa Genealogy
- Gadaa Tuulamaa Structures (2026 AMN Reports)
- Oromo Oral Tradition
- Historical Research on Booranaa Lineages
“The tree that knows its roots can withstand any storm.” — Oromo Proverb
#Tuulamaa #Daaccii #Bachoo #Jiillee #Oromoo #Booranaa #Gadaa #OromoHistory #OromoGenealogy
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 Pillar of Borana: A Tribute to Abbaa Gadaa Liiban Jaldeessaa (1967-2026)
In the vast, sun-scorched plains of Borana, where the acacia trees stand as silent witnesses to centuries of tradition, a giant once walked among the people. He was not a king in the Western sense, nor a politician in the modern mold. He was an Abbaa Gadaa—a father, a judge, a living constitution for the Oromo people. His name was Liiban Jaldeessaa, and his life, from 1968 to 2026, was a testament to the enduring power of indigenous governance.
His story is not merely a biography; it is the history of a people’s resilience, a chronicle of justice, and a powerful reminder that true leadership is often found not in grand palaces, but in the dusty meeting grounds and under the shade of sacred trees.
A Son of the Soil: The Early Years
Born in 1967 to Jaldeessa Liiban and Tarrii Jaldeessa, in the Bur Busa area of Dheeda Booranaa, Liiban was a child of the Gadaa system from his first breath. He was the eldest of six siblings and would grow to be the father of fifty children—a patriarch in every sense of the word. Even in his youth, he was marked by a profound sense of duty. He was a “Tikaa,” a guardian of the cattle camps, learning the sacred responsibility of protecting the community’s lifeblood. He immersed himself in the traditions of his people, taking part in every rite of passage: from the Gammee (councils) to the Kuusa-Raabaa (age-grade gatherings), proving his dedication and worth at every step.
As a young man, Liiban distinguished himself through his unwavering commitment. He excelled in the crucial, often overlooked tasks of community life—the “hard work” that keeps society functioning. He was a man who understood the ancient ways, taking part in night-long vigils and traditional song and dance ceremonies (Olka Sirbuu) held at sacred sites like Dambii Dhedheertuu, Afuuraa, Areeroo, and Haroo Diimtuu. He earned a reputation for being tireless and principled, famously ensuring a great water reservoir (Gooroo) was properly filled, demonstrating his devotion to the community’s well-being even before he took on the highest office.
The Gauntlet of Leadership: A Gadaa in Action
In 1991, at a critical juncture for the Borana people, Liiban Jaldeessaa received the ultimate call to leadership. He took the Gooroo Gadoomaa—the sacred ceremonial staff—from the 68th Abbaa Gadaa, Boruu Madhaa. This was not a time of peace, but a time demanding strength, wisdom, and a firm hand.
His tenure as Abbaa Gadaa was defined by decisive action and a tireless defense of tradition and justice:
· Restoring Tradition: The great Gumii assembly of the Oromo, a cornerstone of democratic governance, had weakened and fractured. Liiban, understanding its vital importance, re-established the Gumii Dibbee Eldalloo, breathing new life into the ancient institution and ensuring the voice of the people could once again be heard.
· Uncompromising Justice: When elders attempted to use their authority to pass a decree without consulting the people, Liiban stood firm. His principle was clear: “An Abbaa Gadaa has no power to create a law by himself; the law is made by the Gumii.” He scrupulously upheld the rule of law, ensuring that power was accountable to the community.
· Protecting the Land: He was a fierce and unyielding defender of Oromo territory. At a time of great fear and uncertainty, he famously declared: “Fear should not cause the heartland of Oromo to be lost; fear should not cause the land of Oromo to be diminished.” He led land border expeditions (Lallaba) to assert territorial claims, confronting regional and federal authorities to protect the integrity of his people’s ancestral lands.
· The Ethiopian Renaissance Dam: When the issue of the Grand Ethiopian Renaissance Dam (GERD) arose, Gadaa Liiban gave a striking directive on how the Borana people should contribute to the national project. He proclaimed, “We will not support it with money from our pockets, but we will contribute with our hands and our labor,” reflecting a pragmatic and dignified approach to national duty.
· Diplomacy and Peacebuilding: He was a bridge-builder, working tirelessly with the Kenyan and Somali governments, and numerous NGOs to maintain peace and security in the volatile borderlands. He believed in the unity of all people, transcending clan, religion, and nation.
The Enduring Legacy: The “Dhaamsa” of a Great Man
On August 29, 2026, at the age of 59, Abbaa Gadaa Liiban Jaldeessaa passed away while receiving treatment in a Korean hospital. His death was a profound loss, a “Rifuu” (sorrow) felt from the savannahs of Ethiopia to the grasslands of Kenya.
But an Abbaa Gadaa does not simply die; he leaves a legacy—a Dhaamsa. This is not just a will, but a final message, a solemn charge to his people.
His legacy is twofold:
1. The Rifuu (The Sorrow and the Shield): He left behind a legacy of protection and strength. His memory is a shield, a “Jabaa Fulaa” (strong face) and a “Waardiyaa” (shield) that guards the community against its enemies and against division. The sorrow for his loss is immense, but it is a sorrow that binds the people together.
2. The Dhaamsa (The Final Charge): His final message is a call to action. It is a warning that the path he paved, the justice he upheld, and the unity he fostered must not be abandoned. His “Dhaamsa” is a reminder that the work of the Gadaa is never finished. It is a call to the community to remain steadfast, to support one another, and to continue the struggle for their rights and identity.
A Star That Still Guides
Abbaa Gadaa Liiban Jaldeessaa was more than a leader; he was the embodiment of the Gadaa system’s greatest ideals: justice, resilience, and unwavering dedication to the people. He was a “Fiixee Seeraa” (the pinnacle of the law), a “Tissaa Gooroo Gadaa” (the guardian of the Gadaa’s sacred staff), a man whose name will forever be etched in the annals of Borana history.
He passed into the next world, but for the Oromo people, he remains a star. His life is a lesson that the most profound leadership is born not of ambition, but of service. His legacy is a testament that a people’s strength lies not in their weapons, but in their traditions, their unity, and their unwavering commitment to justice.
As the Oromo people honor his memory, they are called to embody his final message: to be strong, to be united, and to ensure that the spirit of Gadaa Liiban Jaldeessaa lives on in every generation. He was a son of the soil, a pillar of his community, and a beacon of hope for all who believe in the power of indigenous wisdom.
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.
A Giant Returns to the Soil: Abbaa Gadaa Liiban Jaldessa Laid to Rest in Areero (1967-2026)
The plains of Areero, under the vast and unyielding sky of Borana, fell silent. The echoes of cattle bells and the murmur of the wind through ancient acacia trees seemed to pause, as a community—and indeed, a nation—gathered to bid farewell to one of its greatest sons. Abbaa Gadaa Liiban Jaldessa, the 69th custodian of the sacred Gadaa staff and a revered guardian of Oromo law, was laid to rest in his homeland on a somber day that marked the end of an era.
At the age of 59, the leader whose life was a testament to the enduring strength of indigenous governance passed away on December 29, 2026, while receiving medical treatment in Addis Ababa. His death sent a wave of profound grief—a Rifuu—from the highlands of Ethiopia to the savannahs of Kenya, a sorrow felt by all who knew the weight of his wisdom and the depth of his commitment.
A Life of Service to the Gadaa
Liiban Jaldessa was more than a leader; he was the embodiment of the Gadaa system’s highest ideals. As the 69th Abbaa Gadaa, he was a living constitution, a judge, a father, and a protector of the Borana people. His life was dedicated to the preservation and advancement of the ancient Oromo governance system, which for centuries has stood as one of the world’s most sophisticated indigenous democracies.
Gadaa elders and scholars who paid tribute to him spoke of a man of unwavering principle. He was described as a “pillar of the community,” a leader whose influence extended far beyond the ceremonial. His tenure was marked by a fierce dedication to justice, the protection of Oromia’s historic boundaries, and the strengthening of the social fabric that binds Oromo communities across the borders of Ethiopia and Kenya.
Reviving the Ancient Assembly
Among his most significant achievements was the revival of the Dibbee Eeldalloo Assembly, a crucial Gadaa institution that had lain dormant for several generations. This assembly is not merely a meeting; it is the heart of Oromo democracy, where elders and community members gather to deliberate on matters of law, peace, and the future of the people.
By breathing new life into this ancient forum, Abbaa Gadaa Liiban ensured that the voice of the people would continue to be heard. He re-established a critical channel for justice and reconciliation, reaffirming that true governance is not imposed from above but emerges from the collective wisdom of the community. This act alone cemented his legacy as a unifier and a visionary.
A Leader for All
The attendance at his funeral was a powerful testament to the reach of his influence. Gadaa leaders from across the region stood alongside government officials, and a vast sea of public mourners from both Ethiopia and Kenya came to pay their final respects.
A notable presence was that of Marsabit Governor Mohamed Mohamud Ali, whose attendance underscored the cross-border significance of Abbaa Gadaa Liiban’s work. Governor Ali honored the leader’s immense contributions to fostering peaceful and cooperative relations between communities living on either side of the national border. He called on all who were present to uphold Liiban’s legacy of unity, emphasizing that the bonds he forged should be sustained and strengthened for generations to come.
This intergovernmental and cross-border presence highlighted a profound truth: Abbaa Gadaa Liiban was not just a leader of the Borana, but a symbol of peace and cooperation for the entire region.
A Legacy Etched in the Land
Abbaa Gadaa Liiban Jaldessa left behind a large and proud family—50 children, 13 sons and 37 daughters—who carry his name and his spirit into the future. But his true legacy is woven into the very fabric of the Oromo nation.
He was a man who stood firm in the face of challenges, who walked the length of disputed borders to assert his people’s claims, and who worked tirelessly to ensure that the “Habesha” label would not diminish the proud, independent identity of his people. He believed in the Gadaa’s power to resolve conflict, its wisdom to guide the community, and its resilience to survive through the ages.
As the earth of Areero received his body, the community received his spirit. His final message, his Dhaamsa, is a call to action: to remain united, to uphold the law, and to continue the struggle for justice and recognition.
The Farewell of a Nation
The burial ceremony in Areero was more than a funeral; it was a declaration. It was a declaration that the Gadaa system lives on, that its leaders are honored, and that its traditions will not fade into history. It was a declaration that the Oromo people, from the plains of Borana to the hills of Kenya, stand together.
In the words of the elders who mourned him, “Mataan Dhalootaa Lafa Ga’e Du’aan Lafa Hinhanqatu”—”The head of a generation that has touched the ground does not leave the ground empty.” Abbaa Gadaa Liiban Jaldessa touched the ground with his life, and his legacy will continue to grow from the soil of his homeland.
The son of Borana has returned to his ancestors. But for his people, he is not gone. He has become a star in their sky, a voice in their council, and a timeless guide for the path ahead.
Advocacy for Oromia 