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The Sacred Feast: Guyyoo Gobba Community Gathers for the Nyaachisaa Ceremony
Under the leadership of the 70th Abbaa Gadaa, the Oromo people come together to honour their ancient traditions and celebrate the bonds that unite generations
BORANA ZONE, OROMIYA — As the sun begins its descent over the vast plains of Borana, a sacred gathering is taking place. The sons of Guyyoo Gobba, descendants of the 70th Abbaa Gadaa, are converging at Ardaa Gaayoo, the ancestral seat of their leader. The air is filled with anticipation, for tonight marks the beginning of the Nyaachisaa ceremony—a ritual of profound significance in the Gadaa tradition.
The ceremony, known as “Jala Bultii Nyaachisaa,” is a sacred feast that brings the community together to honour their heritage, celebrate their unity, and strengthen the bonds that connect past, present, and future.
“Ilmaan Guyyoo Gobbaa Ardaa Gaayootti Jala Bultii Nyaachisaa Irra Jiru!”
The sons of Guyyoo Gobba are at Ardaa Gaayoo, engaged in the Nyaachisaa overnight ceremony!
The Gathering
“Ilmaan Abbaa Gadaa Boorana 70ffaa, Yuubaa Guyyoo Gobbaa, galgala kana Ardaa Gaayoo, qe’ee Abbaa Gadaatti walitti dhufaa jiru.”
The descendants of the 70th Abbaa Gadaa of Borana, the Yuubaa of Guyyoo Gobba, are gathering this evening at Ardaa Gaayoo, at the seat of the Abbaa Gadaa. This is not a casual meeting—it is a sacred assembly, a coming together of a community bound by blood, tradition, and shared destiny.
The Yuubaa are the elders of the Gadaa system—those who have passed through all the stages of life and now serve as the wise guardians of tradition. Their presence at this gathering signifies the continuity of the Gadaa system and the transmission of wisdom from one generation to the next.
“Sirna jala bultii nyaachisaa kabajuun sangaa qalanii eebbifachuuf qophii isaanii xumuraa jiru.”
They are making their final preparations to honour the Nyaachisaa overnight ceremony by slaughtering an ox and seeking blessings. The sacrifice of the ox is not a mere act of slaughter—it is a sacred ritual, a symbol of gratitude, a recognition of the interconnectedness of all life, and a petition for divine blessing.
The Significance of Nyaachisaa
“Sirni nyaachisaa kun Aadaa fi duudhaa Gadaa keessatti bakka olaanaa Kan qabu yoo ta’u, walitti dhufeenya hawaasaa, kabaja Aadaa fi dhaloota itti aanutti dabarsuuf taasifamu keessaa isa tokkodha.”
The Nyaachisaa ceremony holds a place of great importance in Gadaa culture and tradition. It is one of the key expressions of community solidarity, cultural reverence, and the transmission of heritage to future generations.
In the Gadaa system, the Nyaachisaa is more than a feast—it is a ritual of renewal and reaffirmation. Through the sharing of food, the community reaffirms its bonds of kinship and solidarity. Through the observance of tradition, the community honours the wisdom of the ancestors. Through the involvement of the younger generation, the community ensures the continuity of its culture.
The Nyaachisaa represents the sacred relationship between the people and their Creator, between the community and its traditions, and between the present and the future.
The Overnight Ceremony
“Jiltii Nyaachisaa kun Ardaa Gaayootti haala gammachuu, wal kabajuu fi aadaa leellisuun guutamee kan jiru yoo ta’u, sirni nyaachisaa kun bor ganama eebbaa fi sirna aadaatiin itti fufa.”
The Nyaachisaa night at Ardaa Gaayoo is filled with joy, mutual respect, and the celebration of culture. The ceremony will continue tomorrow morning with blessings and traditional rituals.
The overnight gathering is a time of singing, storytelling, and sharing. It is a time when the community comes together to remember their history, to honour their ancestors, and to reaffirm their commitment to each other. The fires burn bright, the voices rise in song, and the bonds of community are strengthened.
Tomorrow morning, the ceremony will continue with prayers and traditional rituals. The elders will bless the community, the younger generation will receive the wisdom of their elders, and the entire community will go forward strengthened by the experience.
The Gadaa Tradition
The Gadaa system is one of the most sophisticated indigenous governance structures in the world. It is a system that has guided the Oromo people for centuries—organizing their society, managing their resources, resolving their conflicts, and preserving their culture.
The Gadaa system is built on a foundation of values:
- Respect for Elders: The wisdom of the elders is recognized and honoured. They are the keepers of tradition, the guides for the community.
- Community Solidarity: The well-being of the individual is inseparable from the well-being of the community. Everyone has a role to play, and everyone is valued.
- Cultural Continuity: The traditions of the ancestors are preserved and passed on to the next generation. The past is not forgotten but honoured.
- Spiritual Connection: The relationship with the Creator is central to the Gadaa system. Rituals and ceremonies are expressions of gratitude and petitions for blessing.
- Justice and Equality: The Gadaa system is a democratic system that values fairness, justice, and the participation of all members of the community.
The Role of the Abbaa Gadaa
The Abbaa Gadaa is the leader of the Gadaa system—a figure who embodies the wisdom, authority, and responsibility of the community. The 70th Abbaa Gadaa of Borana holds a position of immense significance, representing the continuity of a tradition that stretches back centuries.
“Ilmaan Abbaa Gadaa Boorana 70ffaa…”
The sons of the 70th Abbaa Gadaa are gathering to honour their father’s legacy, to participate in the rituals of their culture, and to prepare themselves to carry forward the tradition into the future.
The Abbaa Gadaa is not merely a political leader—he is a spiritual leader, a cultural guardian, and a symbol of the community’s identity. His leadership is rooted not in force but in wisdom, not in coercion but in consensus, not in self-interest but in service.
A Community United
The gathering at Ardaa Gaayoo is a powerful expression of Oromo unity. It brings together:
- Elders who carry the wisdom of the ages
- Adults who are actively engaged in the life of the community
- Youth who are being prepared to take on their responsibilities
- Children who are learning the traditions that will guide their lives
Together, they form a single community, bound by their shared heritage and their common destiny.
The Meaning of the Feast
The Nyaachisaa ceremony is a feast of gratitude. It is a celebration of the abundance that the Creator has provided—the livestock, the land, the harvest, and the health of the community. It is an expression of thanks for the blessings of the past year and a petition for the blessings of the year to come.
But it is also a feast of community. The sharing of food is a powerful act of solidarity. When we eat together, we are not just nourishing our bodies—we are nourishing our relationships. We are saying to each other: “We are one. We share the same table. We share the same destiny.”
The feast is a reminder that we are not alone—that we are part of something larger than ourselves.
Looking to the Future
As the community gathers at Ardaa Gaayoo, they are not just honouring the past—they are preparing for the future. The younger generation is present, learning the traditions, absorbing the wisdom, and preparing to carry the culture forward.
The Nyaachisaa ceremony is a bridge between generations. It connects the ancestors who established the tradition to the children who will carry it forward. It ensures that the culture is not lost but preserved, not forgotten but renewed, not diminished but strengthened.
“Ilmaan Guyyoo Gobbaa Ardaa Gaayootti Jala Bultii Nyaachisaa Irra Jiru!”
A Blessing for All
As the dawn breaks over Ardaa Gaayoo and the ceremony continues with prayers and blessings, the community will go forward strengthened and renewed. They will carry the spirit of the Nyaachisaa with them—the spirit of gratitude, community, and cultural pride.
May the blessings of the ceremony extend to all who participate.
- May the elders continue to guide the community with wisdom.
- May the youth carry the culture forward with pride.
- May the community remain united in solidarity.
- May the traditions of the Gadaa system continue to flourish.
Conclusion
“Jiltii Nyaachisaa kun Ardaa Gaayootti haala gammachuu, wal kabajuu fi aadaa leellisuun guutamee kan jiru yoo ta’u, sirni nyaachisaa kun bor ganama eebbaa fi sirna aadaatiin itti fufa.”
The Nyaachisaa night at Ardaa Gaayoo is filled with joy, mutual respect, and the celebration of culture. The ceremony will continue tomorrow morning with blessings and traditional rituals.
The sons of Guyyoo Gobba, descendants of the 70th Abbaa Gadaa of Borana, have gathered to honour their heritage and celebrate their unity. Through the Nyaachisaa ceremony, they have reaffirmed the bonds that connect them to each other, to their ancestors, and to their Creator.
The tradition lives on. The community endures. And the Oromo people continue to celebrate their culture with pride.
“Ilmaan Guyyoo Gobbaa Ardaa Gaayootti Jala Bultii Nyaachisaa Irra Jiru!”
The sons of Guyyoo Gobba are at Ardaa Gaayoo, engaged in the Nyaachisaa overnight ceremony!
May the blessings of the ceremony be upon them all.
The Root of Seven Generations: Marriage, Bloodlines, and the Oromo Law of Continuity
By Dhabessa Wakjira
—
The fire crackled low in the center of the mana (homestead). Outside, the night wind carried the scent of wild sage and distant rain. Inside, a circle of elders sat in contemplative silence, their white turbans glowing faintly in the ember-light. Before them stood a young man—tall, strong, and visibly nervous. He had come to ask for a bride.
But before any blessing could be spoken, before any milk could be shared, the elders would ask the question that has governed Oromo marriage since time immemorial:
“Sanyiin kee eenyu? Hiddi kee eessa taa’e?” — “Who is your lineage? Where does your root lie?”
For in Oromo culture, marriage is not merely the joining of two hearts. It is the grafting of two ancestral trees. And if those trees are too closely related, the fruit will be weak. If they are too distant, the bond will lack the warmth of shared blood. The balance is found in a sacred number: seven.
—
The Mature Son and the Ripened Daughter
The ancient decree, passed from grandfather to grandson, begins with a command of readiness:
“Ilmi gahe haa fuudhu; intalli geesses haa heerumtu.”
“Let the son who has matured take a wife; let the daughter who has ripened be given in marriage.”
In the highlands of Oromia, these words are not mere suggestions. They are biological and social imperatives. Gahe—maturity—signifies a young man who has passed through the crucible of the Gadaa grades, who has proven his courage and earned the calluses of hard labour. Geesse—ripeness—speaks of a daughter who has completed her rites of passage, who understands the weight of motherhood and the dignity of homemaking.
This is not about arbitrary age. It is about readiness of body, mind, and spirit. The Oromo understand that strong families begin with strong individuals. A boy who marries before he can defend a homestead invites disaster. A girl who bears children before her hips have widened risks her life. The elders watch, and they wait. They do not rush the river, and they do not rush the harvest.
—
The Sacred Distance: Seven Generations
Then comes the law that sets Oromo marriage apart—a precept so deeply embedded in the culture that it rivals the Gadaa itself in its authority:
“Dhalooti walfuudhan, sanyii dhaloota torba booda haa ta’u.”
“Let the lineages intermarry only after [the separation of] seven generations.”
This is the exogamy rule—the absolute prohibition against marrying anyone within seven paternal generations of one’s own clan. The Oromo do not trace this to modern genetics; they arrived at it through centuries of observation. They saw that when cousins married, children were often sickly. When distant clans intermarried, children were robust. The earth taught them what science would later confirm: genetic diversity creates strength.
But this rule is not merely biological—it is deeply social. Seven generations represent a clean break. By the time seven fathers have passed, the ancestral spirits of the two families have “forgotten” their closeness. The bloodlines have cooled. The sanyii (seed) can be safely mixed without angering the ancestors or weakening the clan.
To violate this law is to commit akka hin taane—the unforgivable. It brings drought, stillbirth, and the displeasure of Waaqa (God). The Oromo elders are the gatekeepers of this sacred distance, reciting genealogies that stretch back two hundred years to ensure that the young couple stands on opposite branches of the family tree.
—
The Root That Must Not Be Severed
But the Oromo do not marry merely to create healthy children. They marry to continue the root itself:
“Gaa’elli karaa itti hiddi dhalootaa itti fufu.”
“Marriage is the path by which the root of the generations continues.”
Imagine an ancient sycamore. Its branches reach for the sky, but its strength lies beneath the earth. Each child born is a new branch; each generation is a new layer of rings. If the tree stops producing new shoots, it dies. Similarly, the Oromo believe that a family line that ceases to reproduce ceases to exist—not just physically, but spiritually. The ancestors who came before, the hundreds who tilled the soil and fought the wars and sang the songs, rely on the living to keep their names alive.
Marriage, therefore, is not a romantic luxury. It is a sacred debt. The young man who takes a wife is not just seeking companionship—he is paying back the ancestors who gave him life. The young woman who bears children is not just fulfilling a social role—she is threading the needle of time, sewing the past to the future.
When an Oromo couple stands before the elders, they are not just looking at each other. They are looking backward at the seven generations who made them, and forward at the seven generations who will come from them.
—
The Final Seal: Blessings and Abundance
And so, when all the genealogies are recited, when the seven-generation gap is confirmed, when the bride-price is negotiated and the Qaallu (spiritual leader) has offered the libation of milk to Waaqa, the elders rise. They lift their right hands to the sky. They speak the final, triumphant words:
“Eebbaa fi marabbaan haa raawwatu.”
“Let it be completed with blessings and abundance.”
Eebbaa—blessing. The approval of God, the smile of the ancestors, the goodwill of the community.
Marabbaa—abundance. Not just wealth, but fertility of the womb, richness of the soil, fatness of the cattle, and joy in the household.
These are not empty wishes. In the days that follow the wedding, the community will bring gifts of butter, honey, and grain. The couple will eat together from a single gibira (wooden platter), symbolising their shared fate. The elders will return to their homesteads, satisfied that the lineage is safe for another generation.
—
A Living Law
Today, as globalisation and urbanisation reshape Oromo society, some young people question the old rules. “Seven generations is too long,” some say. “We are modern now. We follow our hearts, not a counting cord.”
But the elders smile. They have heard this before. And they know that a river may change its course, but it never forgets its source. The rule of seven generations is not a chain that binds—it is a shield that protects. It ensures that the Oromo people remain strong, healthy, and connected to their roots.
In the diaspora, too, the Oromo carry this law. They trace their lineages through apps and family elders, seeking out potential partners from clans far removed from their own. They understand that marrying within the bloodline invites not just genetic risk, but spiritual fragmentation. They know that their strength lies in diversity, their continuity lies in discipline, and their future lies in their past.
—
The Eternal Cycle
As the fire dies down and the young man departs with the elders’ blessing, he carries more than a wife’s name on his lips. He carries the weight of a thousand years. He carries the hope of his ancestors that he will not fail. He carries the DNA of seven generations—and the responsibility to ensure that the seventh generation after him will carry his.
Because in Oromo tradition, a person is never truly an individual. They are a living link in an endless chain. And marriage is the forge where that chain is reforged, stronger with every generation.
“Dhaloonni jajjaboo akka dhalataniif…” — “So that strong offspring may be born…”
The words echo across the valley, carried by the wind, whispered by the grass, repeated by the elders. They are a prayer. They are a law. They are the heartbeat of a people who understand that love is beautiful, but lineage is sacred; that romance is sweet, but the root is eternal.
And so, generation upon generation, the Oromo marry—not just for today, but for the seven tomorrows yet to come.
The Children Who Will Not Be Erased: What the Oromo Struggle Truly Means
In the highlands of Oromia, under the vast sky that has witnessed centuries of both freedom and subjugation, a new generation is coming of age. They are the ijoollee Oromoo—the children of Oromia—growing into a world that has often tried to make them small. But they are not small. And their story is not one of distortion or diminishment. It is a story of survival, identity, and the quiet, unyielding refusal to be erased.
Growing Up Oromo
To be an Oromo child is to inherit a legacy of resilience. The Oromo are Ethiopia’s largest ethnic group, yet for generations, they have been treated as second-class citizens in their own land. They have been referred to by derogatory slurs, made to feel ashamed of their cultural identity, and systematically excluded from political and economic power. Their language, Afaan Oromoo, was long suppressed in favor of Amharic. Their history was written by conquerors. Their children were taught to look away from themselves.
But something is changing.
Across Oromia, a cultural renaissance is underway. Young Oromo are reclaiming their names, their language, and their heritage with a pride that their parents could scarcely have imagined. They are giving their children Oromo names instead of Amharic ones. They are celebrating Irreechaa, the ancient thanksgiving festival, not just as a religious ritual but as a powerful assertion of national identity. And they are demanding to be seen, heard, and counted.
The True Meaning of Struggle
There is a fundamental misunderstanding, both within Ethiopia and beyond, about what the Oromo struggle actually is. It is not, as some would frame it, a campaign of distortion—a movement to “balleessuu fi xiqqeessuu,” to corrupt and diminish names without foundation. It is not about rewriting history for the sake of grievance. It is not about taking from others what is rightfully theirs.
The struggle is something far more elemental.
The struggle is protection. It is the defense of Oromo children against forces that would deny them growth and life. It is the fight against systemic discrimination, human rights abuses, and political exclusion that have long been the daily reality of the Oromo people. It is the resistance against displacement from ancestral lands, against land grabs that push families off territories they have held for generations. It is the refusal to accept a status quo where Oromo children are targeted, brutalized, and killed simply because of who they are.
The struggle is creation. It is about creating conditions—haala mijjeessuu—in which Oromo children can grow, learn, and thrive on their own terms. It is about building a future where an Oromo child can speak their mother tongue without fear, carry their ancestral name with pride, and pursue their dreams without the ceiling of systematic oppression.
The struggle is the right path. It is about finding the karaa qajeelaa—the correct and just way forward—not through hatred of others, but through love of self. It is about the kind of self-determination that does not seek to dominate but to liberate. It is about the recognition that peace and stability in Ethiopia can only come when the rights of all its peoples, including the Oromo, are fully upheld.
The Gadaa Inheritance
The Oromo have always had a blueprint for this kind of just society. It is called the Gadaa system, a traditional democratic governance structure recognized by UNESCO as an intangible cultural heritage of humanity. Under Gadaa, male members of Oromo society pass through eleven age grades from birth to death, each with its own responsibilities and roles. It is a system that regulates political, economic, social, and religious life, dealing with conflict resolution, reparation, and the protection of women’s rights.
For Oromo children, the Gadaa system has always provided a framework for growth. It teaches them their “indigenous deeds” from elders, guiding them in leading secular and spiritual life. It is a system built on the understanding that children are assets to be well treated, protected, cared for, and brought up properly.
This is the inheritance that the Oromo struggle seeks to protect and restore. Not a struggle of destruction, but of preservation. Not a struggle of division, but of dignity.
The Children Who Refuse to Be Erased
Today, across Oromia and in the diaspora, Oromo children are growing up with a new sense of possibility. They are learning their history not from textbooks written by others, but from the oral traditions of their elders. They are speaking Afaan Oromoo in schools and in public spaces where it was once forbidden. They are changing their names, reclaiming their identities, and refusing to be ashamed.
They are the living proof that the Oromo struggle is not about diminishing anyone else. It is about elevating themselves. It is about ensuring that Oromo children—ijoollee Oromoo reeffu guddachaa jiran—can grow into their full humanity, unburdened by the weight of a history that tried to make them invisible.
The struggle is not about names on a page. It is about lives in the world. It is about the right to exist, to grow, to flourish. And it is a struggle that, in the end, is not just for the Oromo—it is for everyone who believes that every child, everywhere, deserves the chance to become who they were meant to be.
Bridging Continents, Building a Nation: OLF/ABO Annual Dialogue Heads to Minnesota
By Maatii Sabaa
As the autumn leaves begin to turn across the American Midwest, a familiar and powerful rhythm stirs within the Oromo diaspora. In just a few weeks, Minnesota—often affectionately called “Little Oromia” for hosting one of the largest Oromo populations outside of East Africa—will become the epicenter of a movement that refuses to fade. The Oromo Liberation Front (OLF/ABO) is set to hold its annual dialogue, a cornerstone tradition that weaves together strategy, solidarity, and the unyielding pursuit of self-determination.
The announcement is more than a calendar entry; it is a declaration. The tradition continues.
A Gathering of Purpose
For decades, the Oromo people have carried the weight of marginalization, yet they have also carried the tools of resistance. The OLF/ABO has been at the forefront of this resistance, and its annual dialogue represents a critical moment of reckoning and renewal. Leaders, intellectuals, activists, and everyday community members will converge in Minnesota to take stock of the movement’s progress, confront pressing challenges in the homeland, and chart a course for the year ahead.
But what makes this year’s event particularly noteworthy is its inclusivity. Organizers have extended a rare and welcoming invitation: the final day of the dialogue will be open to all Oromo Community members. This decision transforms a closed-door political meeting into a celebration of collective identity. It is a recognition that the struggle for Oromia’s liberation is not confined to the political elite—it belongs to the farmer in the countryside, the mother in the diaspora, the student in the university, and the elder who remembers a homeland before displacement.
Why Minnesota?
The choice of Minnesota is no accident. Over the past three decades, the state has become a sanctuary and a springboard for Oromo activism. From the bustling neighborhoods of Minneapolis to the suburban cities of St. Paul, Oromo culture thrives—through language, music, faith, and political organization. Holding the annual dialogue here acknowledges the diaspora not as a distant bystander, but as a vital pillar of the liberation project.
In this space, the past meets the present. Elders who witnessed the early days of the OLF sit alongside youth born in the West, forging an intergenerational bond that strengthens the movement’s resilience. It is a living classroom where history is taught, grievances are voiced, and hope is rekindled.
Consistency and Determination: The Unshakeable Foundation
The flyer circulating among community groups carries a powerful mantra: “As always, consistency and determination remain the foundation of lasting progress and success.”
These words are not empty rhetoric. In the long and often brutal struggle for Oromo self-determination, fads and fleeting passions have no place. What sustains the movement is the dogged, day-in and day-out commitment of a people who refuse to be erased. The annual dialogue is the embodiment of this ethic. It is a ritual of endurance—a moment to recalibrate, to reaffirm, and to recommit.
Consistency means showing up, year after year, regardless of the political winds. Determination means turning setbacks into stepping stones. The OLF/ABO has weathered imprisonment, exile, and state-sponsored repression, yet here it stands, preparing to convene once again in the heart of America. That is the quiet power of persistence.
An Open Door to the Community
The decision to open the final day to all Oromo community members is a strategic and symbolic masterstroke. It breaks down barriers between leadership and the grassroots, ensuring that the dialogue is not an ivory tower but a public square. It invites critical feedback, fresh perspectives, and the energy of those who may not hold formal titles but carry the daily lived experience of Oromo identity.
Whether one is a long-time activist or a young professional attending for the first time, the final day promises to be a space of belonging. It is a chance to ask questions, share concerns, and witness firsthand the democratic spirit that the OLF/ABO champions. In a world where liberation movements often become opaque, this open-door policy is a beacon of transparency and trust.
The Cry That Echoes: IUOf! 
As the event draws near, social media feeds and community bulletin boards will fill with the colors of the Oromo flag—red, green, and red—a trinity of courage, hope, and sacrifice. And when the dialogue reaches its crescendo, the hall will undoubtedly erupt with the rallying cry: “IUOf!” Or Victory to Oromo people —a spirited abbreviation for the Oromo phrase that resonates across generations, declaring the unshakable belief in the Oromo nation’s future.
The red hearts speak to the blood shed for freedom. The green hearts speak to the fertile land of Oromia that awaits full restoration. Together, they form a visual prayer for justice.
A Tradition That Transcends Time
The annual dialogue is more than a political event; it is a cultural anchor. In a diaspora scattered across the globe, it provides a rare moment of physical convergence. It reminds the Oromo people that they are not isolated individuals but members of a vast, resilient family with a shared destiny.
As the final day opens its doors to all, the Oromo community in Minnesota and beyond will have the chance to witness history in the making. The tradition continues—not as a relic of the past, but as a dynamic, living force that charts the path toward a free and sovereign Oromia.
So mark the date, spread the word, and prepare to gather. The dialogue awaits. The struggle endures. And as always, it is consistency and determination that will carry the Oromo people across the finish line.
IUOf!
The Unseen Work and the Unyielding Bloom: How the Oromo Struggle Flourishes Beyond the Enemy’s Gaze
By Daandii Ragabaa
While the enemies of Oromia may have closed their eyes and convinced themselves that the OLF/ABO had faded into irrelevance, the ground beneath their feet has been shifting all along. The struggle for Oromo liberation has never been a spectacle performed for the approval of adversaries; it is a quiet, relentless tide that reshapes the landscape even when the world is not watching. Today, as the movement reflects on its journey, one truth stands undeniable: the work has continued, the fruits have multiplied, and the foundation of Oromo nationhood has never been stronger.
The Myth of Stagnation
There is a dangerous assumption that silence equals surrender. For years, the detractors of Oromo freedom have pointed to periods of tactical recalibration and claimed that the cause was dead. They were wrong. As the reflection reminds us, “Diinonni Oromoo otuu hin beekiin hojiilee ABO hojjataa ture”—the enemies were unaware of the work being done. The OLF/ABO did not vanish; it adapted. It built. It planted seeds that are now breaking through the concrete of oppression.
The struggle is not a straight line; it is a winding river that carves canyons over time. There have been moments of setback, times when the fighters themselves stumbled into unfamiliar terrain. “Yeroo garii qabsaa’oti waan muuxannoo itti hin qabneef danqamuun ifaa dha.” To be hindered, to face the unknown, is a natural and illuminating part of any liberation journey. But the reflection makes a critical distinction: “Danqamuun garuu qabsoo irraa yeroof duubatti deebi’uu malee qabsoo dhiisuu jechuu miti.”
Setbacks are not stop signs; they are detours. Retreating for a moment to assess, regroup, and strike with greater intelligence is not defeat—it is the hallmark of a movement that intends to win, not just to survive.
The Tangible Fruits of an Unyielding Will
While critics focused on imagined weaknesses, the Oromo struggle was quietly accumulating victories that cannot be erased. The reflection catalogs these achievements with a quiet, earned pride:
Oromia has risen. No longer can the oppressor pretend that Oromia is an abstraction. It is a recognized entity, a homeland with a name that commands respect and a history that demands justice. “Oromiyaan bobaa diinaa jalaa bahee beekamee jira.” The nation has emerged from under the shadow of denial into the light of international and domestic recognition.
The language has taken its rightful place. Afaan Oromoo, once relegated to the margins of private life, now stands tall as a language of instruction and government work. “Afaan Oromoo afaan barnootaa fi hojii mootummaa ta’eera.” This is not a small concession; it is a revolutionary shift. When a people’s tongue becomes the language of the classroom and the office, the soul of that people is officially acknowledged.
The script lives. “Qubeen Afaan Oromoo kan Afaan Oromoo ittiin barsiisan ta’eera.” The Oromo alphabet—once banned, once erased—is now actively used to teach children the beauty of their own heritage. Alphabetization is liberation. To read in one’s mother tongue is to reclaim the mind from colonial subjugation.
The flag waves undefeated. “Alaabaan Oromoo mallattoo diddaa fi bilisummaa qabsoo Oromoo ta’ee beekamee jira.” The Oromo flag is no longer a secret symbol of insurgency; it is a recognized emblem of resistance and freedom. It flies at gatherings, in diaspora halls, and in the hearts of millions. It is the colors of a nation that refuses to be renamed.
The Bloom of the Seed
The reflection speaks of a beautiful and profound transformation: “Akkanaan sanyiin bilisummaa facaafamee daraaree hundee sabboonummaa Oromoo fi Oromummaa ta’aa jira.”
The seeds of freedom, scattered across the difficult soil of the struggle, are now blossoming. They are taking root in the very foundations of Oromo identity and nationhood. This is not a fleeting victory; it is a generational shift. The Oromo people are witnessing the flowering of what their ancestors sacrificed for. The identity is no longer just a memory—it is a living, breathing reality that grows stronger with each passing day.
The Sacred Duty of Continuation
Yet, the reflection is not a song of complacency. It carries a sobering and determined promise: “Kun haga hireen murteeffannaa ummata Oromoo dhugoomutti jabaatee kan itti fufu ta’a.”
This journey will continue—vigorously, unapologetically, and with increasing momentum—until the fundamental rights of the Oromo people are fully realized. Until self-determination is not a demand but a fact. Until the land of Oromia is governed by the will of its own children.
The current chapter of the struggle is not an anomaly; it is the direct product of that unyielding resolve. “Waanti amna qabsoo keessatti argaa jirrus dhugaadhuma kana.” What we see today is the pure, unadulterated truth of a people who refused to kneel.
A Legacy of Resistance, A Future of Justice
“Qabsoon Bilisummaa fi haqa Oromoo kabachiisuuf yoomiyyuu jabatee itti fufa; hireen murteeffannaa ummata Oromoof godhamus kan wareegama keenyaan dhugoomuu dha.”
The struggle to honor the freedom and justice of Oromia will continue with unwavering strength—forever and always. The rights that the Oromo people are fighting for are not gifts to be begged for; they are inherent truths to be realized. And the fulfillment of those rights is not merely a political ambition; it is a sacred trust, a responsibility that falls upon the shoulders of every Oromo, whether in the homeland or in the far reaches of the diaspora.
The enemies may have looked away. They may have assumed the work had stopped. But the Oromo people are digging deeper than ever, planting seeds that will outlast the oppressors, and building a nation that will stand for millennia.
The unseen work is now visible. The planted seeds are blooming. And the struggle, tested by fire and tempered by patience, marches ever forward—determined, consistent, and invincible.
IUOf!
The Political Boat Called “Tsimdo”: Where Are the Far-Right and Far-Left Extremists Steering It?
In the strange theater of modern politics, strange bedfellows emerge—temporary alliances born not of shared vision but of shared hatred
By Ibsaa Nagawoo
In the annals of modern political history, few phenomena are as remarkable—and as dangerous—as the spectacle of ideological opposites joining forces against a common enemy. The far-right and far-left, whose philosophies on economics, governance, and the role of the state stand in irreconcilable opposition, sometimes find themselves on the same side of a political struggle. Their alliance, however, is not built on shared principles or a common vision for the future. It is built on a single, fragile foundation: shared enmity.
This is the political boat called “Tsimdo” (or Cimdii)—a vessel that carries strange passengers, navigates treacherous waters, and ultimately leads nowhere good for anyone aboard.
The Strange Alliance
“One of the surprising phenomena in modern world politics is the emergence of forces that fundamentally oppose each other in their political philosophy, economic policies, and views on the role of government, yet temporarily unite against a common enemy.”
This is not a new phenomenon, but it is one that has become increasingly visible in recent years. The left and right, traditionally locked in ideological struggle, discover that their hatred for a particular leader, government, or political direction outweighs their differences. They form a temporary alliance—an “unholy coalition” that promises to overthrow the common enemy but offers no coherent vision for what should come after.
“However, such alliances are often short-lived because they are based not on shared vision and common political principles, but on shared animosity.”
This is the fatal flaw of these coalitions. They are unions of convenience, not conviction. They can tear down, but they cannot build. They can oppose, but they cannot propose. They can unite in hatred, but they cannot govern in peace.
Ethiopia’s Own Experience
“Both world history and Ethiopia’s political history provide many examples that confirm this.”
In recent years, Ethiopia has witnessed this phenomenon in stark relief. The conflict between the federal government and the TPLF, and the alliances that formed around it, created some of the most improbable political marriages in the country’s history.
“In Ethiopia, this trend has been clearly seen in recent years. One can observe and analyze the strange political alliances formed during the TPLF provocation, the war between the Federal Government of Ethiopia and the TPLF, and the resulting unconventional political marriages.”
Groups that had spent decades opposing each other—ideologically, politically, and sometimes militarily—found themselves on the same side of a conflict. The shared goal of removing the TPLF from power created a temporary unity that papered over fundamental disagreements about Ethiopia’s political future.
The Unholy Alliance Against Oromo Gains
“The far-right and far-left extremist forces that shed crocodile tears in the name of the Oromo people, the Amhara, the Tigray, and the Ethiopian people—no matter how strong their unholy alliance becomes—the Oromo people will not easily surrender the political, economic, and legal rights they have won through long struggle and years of sacrifice.”
This is the central warning of the reflection: the Oromo people, who have fought for generations to secure their rights, are not about to hand them over to an alliance of convenience—whether that alliance claims to speak for the Oromo or not.
“The matter has become one of survival. And the victory achieved is not something that can be stolen through temporary political pressure or false propaganda.”
The Oromo struggle is not a passing phase or a fleeting moment of political mobilization. It is a deep, sustained, and principled movement that has survived decades of repression, co-optation, and marginalization. It will not be undone by an alliance whose only common ground is opposition to Oromo self-determination.
The Blindness of Some Oromo
“As the struggle of the Oromo people within Ethiopia has been strengthening and registering some victories, some Oromo individuals and groups who could not see—or refused to believe—that organized anti-Oromo sentiment had been building for a long time, have failed to understand that the exaggerated political hatred, character assassination, and coordinated propaganda campaign against the reformist Prime Minister Dr. Abiy Ahmed is ultimately not just about Dr. Abiy but about the Oromo as a whole.”
This is a painful truth that some Oromo have been reluctant to face. The campaign against Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed is not merely a personal vendetta against one individual. It is an attack on Oromo leadership, Oromo gains, and Oromo aspirations. The fact that some Oromo have joined in this campaign, or remained silent in the face of it, is a betrayal of the Oromo cause.
“Only they themselves can answer why this happened.”
The reflection leaves this question hanging in the air, inviting self-examination. Why have some Oromo joined forces with those who fundamentally oppose Oromo rights? Why have some remained silent when anti-Oromo rhetoric has reached dangerous levels? Why have some failed to see that the attack on one Oromo leader is an attack on all Oromo?
The Washington Statement and Its Aftermath
“There is one thing we all cannot forget. The statement by the international Fano ‘intellectuals’ that was read in Washington contained dangerous rhetoric: ‘We will return the Gallas to Madagascar.’ This is still being echoed by Mahayimannu Fano. This hate speech did not remain merely words—many believe it has found expression in acts of violence against innocent Oromo in various places, especially today in East Wollega and Dera.”
This is a chilling reminder of the stakes involved. The anti-Oromo rhetoric that has been circulating is not harmless—it has real-world consequences. Innocent Oromo people have been targeted, attacked, and killed. The words of hate have become acts of violence.
“The sad part is that some forces who call themselves ‘freedom fighters’ have silently covered up or overlooked this issue. This silence itself carries a major political message.”
The silence of those who claim to fight for freedom is deafening. When the self-proclaimed champions of liberation refuse to condemn violence against Oromo, they reveal their true priorities. Their silence is not neutrality—it is complicity.
The Poisoned Boat
“Some Oromo politicians and activists, having lost their own political direction, have found themselves unwittingly in the same political boat (Tsimbo) as Amhara extremist unitarist far-right extremists. Since this act conflicts with the common interest and political will of the Oromo people, it should be remembered as a political lesson and historical warning for generations.”
This is perhaps the most pointed criticism in the reflection: some Oromo have lost their way. They have abandoned the principles of Oromo liberation and joined forces with those who have historically opposed—and continue to oppose—Oromo rights.
“Any individual or political organization that organizes in the name of Oromo must distance itself from political ideologies, philosophies, and economic policies that divide the Oromo people. Any idea presented as a ‘political reality’ that weakens Oromo unity, if it conflicts with the interests of Oromia, Ethiopia, and the Oromo nation, should not be accepted.”
This is a clear call to Oromo political actors: know who you are, know what you stand for, and know who your true allies and enemies are. The lines must be drawn clearly. There is no room for ambiguity when the survival of the Oromo people is at stake.
A Call to Abandon the Boat
“Therefore, if you find yourself in this propaganda of organized anti-Oromo hatred, you should distance yourself from this destructive political boat (Tsimbo). This boat does not benefit the Oromo people—it represents hatred, division, and destructive ideologies. It is not too late to distance yourself from this extremist political direction; the beneficial thing is to stop it.”
This is a call to choose. A call to abandon the alliance of hatred and return to the principles of justice, self-determination, and unity. A call to recognize that the path of extremism leads nowhere good.
“It is not too late to distance yourself from this extremist political direction; the beneficial thing is to stop it.”
There is still time to turn back. There is still time to choose the path of dialogue, mutual respect, and peaceful political competition. There is still time to build rather than destroy.
The Role of External Forces
“Finally, this extremist political and war ‘Tsimbo’ is not just an internal problem—it can also be a tool for the interests and proxy wars of external forces, and it is targeted as such. Therefore, it does not bring lasting benefit to the Oromo, the Amhara, the Tigray, or other nations and nationalities, nor to the Ethiopian people in general.”
The reflection recognizes that the forces driving the “Tsimbo” are not purely domestic. External actors have their own interests in Ethiopia’s political landscape. They seek to exploit divisions, weaken the country, and advance their own agendas. The Tsimbo serves their purposes, not the purposes of the Ethiopian people.
“Therefore, I believe that abandoning this politics of hatred, division, and extremism and returning to dialogue, trust, and peaceful political competition is the beneficial path for everyone.”
This is a vision of hope: a return to politics as a means of resolving differences, not a weapon for destroying enemies. A return to the belief that dialogue and trust are possible. A return to the conviction that Ethiopia’s future will be built, not destroyed.
The Way Forward
“Ethiopia’s future destiny will not be found in an alliance based on hatred. The country’s lasting peace, stability, and democratic progress can only be ensured when they are based on constitutional supremacy, the rule of law, mutual respect, genuine democratic dialogue, and a shared national vision.”
This is the heart of the message: the future belongs not to those who hate, but to those who build. Not to those who divide, but to those who unite. Not to those who destroy, but to those who create.
“One truth, however, is clear: an alliance based on hatred may change a government, but it cannot build a country.”
This is a profound insight. The Tsimbo may succeed in its immediate objective—the removal of a particular leader or the overthrow of a particular government. But what then? What vision does it offer for the future? What principles will guide it? What foundation will it build upon?
The answer is: none. An alliance based solely on hatred can only destroy; it cannot create. It can tear down; it cannot build. It can oppose; it cannot govern.
Conclusion: A Choice to Make
The political boat called Tsimbo is a dangerous vessel. It carries those who have lost their way, those who have confused hatred for principle, those who have abandoned the struggle for justice in favor of the easier path of revenge.
But there is another path. The path of dialogue, trust, and peaceful political competition. The path that builds rather than destroys. The path that unites rather than divides. The path that leads to lasting peace, stability, and democracy.
The choice is clear. The time for choosing is now.
“An alliance based on hatred may change a government, but it cannot build a country.”
Let us choose to build. Let us choose to unite. Let us choose the path of peace, justice, and shared national vision.
May we all make the right choice.
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*The above feature article is based on the reflection of Ibsaa Nagawoo
Why Oromia Needs Oromo Truth-Telling
A nation cannot move forward while refusing to honestly face its past. The wounds of history will not heal until they are acknowledged, understood, and addressed.
There is a profound truth that echoes across cultures and continents, through generations and civilizations: a society that refuses to confront its past is condemned to repeat its mistakes. The wounds left unacknowledged do not heal—they fester. The stories left untold do not disappear—they haunt. The injustices left unaddressed do not fade—they endure.
For Oromia, the need for truth-telling is not a luxury. It is a necessity. It is the foundation upon which a just and equitable future must be built.
The Great Silence
Many Oromians were never taught the full history of colonisation.
This is not an accident. It is a deliberate choice—a systematic erasure designed to serve the interests of those who benefit from the continued subjugation of the Oromo people.
Generations of Oromo children have grown up learning history through the lens of the colonizer. They have been taught to celebrate conquerors while mourning the victims. They have learned the names of emperors and generals while remaining ignorant of the heroes who resisted. They have memorized the dates of battles while never understanding the human cost of those wars.
The history of colonisation is not a distant, academic subject. It is the story of how Oromia became what it is today. It is the story of how our grandparents’ grandparents lost their land, their freedom, and their way of life. It is the story of how the very fabric of our society was torn apart and rewoven according to the designs of others.
The Unlearned Lessons
The gaps in Oromo historical education are vast and consequential. Consider what has been left untaught:
Frontier Violence: The wars of conquest that swept through Oromia in the late 19th century were not gentle expansions—they were brutal campaigns of subjugation, marked by massacre, displacement, and destruction on an unimaginable scale. The stories of villages burned, families torn apart, and communities annihilated have been systematically silenced.
Stolen Land and Culture: The land of Oromia did not come to its current configuration through peaceful negotiation. It was taken—through force, through deception, through the imposition of alien legal systems that recognized neither the land rights nor the humanity of the Oromo people. Along with the land, the culture was attacked—the language forbidden, the traditions suppressed, the identity denied.
The Colonisation: Oromo colonisation is a unique and often misunderstood phenomenon. It was not a conquest from across the sea, but from within the continent—an African empire building itself upon the subjugation of other African peoples. This internal colonisation has been particularly insidious, as it has been denied, minimized, and even celebrated as “national unity.”
The Marginalised Generations: Not all Oromo experienced colonisation in the same way. Some were displaced; others were co-opted. Some were killed; others were enslaved. But generations of Oromo have lived under the shadow of this system—their opportunities limited, their voices silenced, their potential unrealized.
The Laws That Controlled Oromo Lives: The legal and administrative structures of colonisation were not neutral instruments—they were tools of control. From the forced labor systems to the land tenure regimes, from the restrictions on movement to the prohibitions on cultural expression, the laws of the Ethiopian Empire were designed to maintain Oromo subjugation.
The Past Is Not Past
Those events are not disconnected from the present. Their impacts can still be seen in families, communities, and institutions today.
The colonisation of Oromia is not a chapter of history that ended with independence or the signing of a treaty. Its effects continue to ripple through time, shaping the lives of Oromo people in ways both obvious and subtle.
In Families: The trauma of colonisation has been passed down through generations. The loss of land, the separation of families, the suppression of culture—these experiences have created patterns of pain that continue to manifest in family dysfunction, mental health challenges, and the intergenerational transmission of trauma.
In Communities: The divisions created by colonisation persist in the social fabric of Oromo communities. The legacy of divide-and-rule policies, of co-opting some Oromo against others, of creating hierarchies that served the colonizer—these continue to affect how Oromo relate to each other.
In Institutions: The colonial structures that were imposed on Oromia have not disappeared. They have been transformed, repurposed, and rebranded, but they remain—the legal systems, the administrative frameworks, the educational institutions, the economic structures. They continue to reflect the priorities and power dynamics of their colonial origins.
The Power of Truth-Telling
Oromo Truth-telling creates a shared understanding of how Oromia became the country it is.
Truth-telling is not about assigning blame or dwelling on grievances. It is about creating a common foundation of understanding upon which a just future can be built. It is about giving the Oromo people the tools they need to understand their own history and to chart their own destiny.
It allows Oromo voices to be heard instead of having our history explained for us.
For too long, the story of Oromia has been told by others—by conquerors who justified their actions, by governments that denied their crimes, by academics who studied Oromo from a comfortable distance. Oromo truth-telling reclaims the narrative. It gives Oromo people the opportunity to tell their own story, in their own words, from their own perspective.
This is not an act of aggression—it is an act of liberation.
From Understanding to Action
It is not about living in the past. It is about understanding the past so Oromia can build a fairer future.
Truth-telling is not about dwelling on grievances or nurturing resentments. It is about clearing the ground upon which a new society can be built. Just as a building cannot be constructed on a foundation of lies, a just society cannot be built on a denial of history.
To build a fairer future, Oromia must first understand:
- How the land was taken
- How the people were divided
- How the culture was suppressed
- How the institutions were designed
- How the wounds were inflicted
Only with this understanding can the work of healing truly begin. Only with this knowledge can the cycle of injustice be broken.
The Moral Imperative
You cannot heal what you refuse to acknowledge.
This is perhaps the most profound truth of all. Denial is not healing—it is a form of imprisonment. By refusing to acknowledge the past, we remain trapped in its patterns. By denying the wounds, we prevent their treatment. By silencing the stories, we perpetuate the suffering.
For Oromia, the refusal to acknowledge the history of colonisation has come at a tremendous cost. It has allowed the perpetrators to avoid accountability. It has denied the victims the recognition they deserve. It has prevented the healing that is possible only when the truth is spoken.
The moral imperative is clear: the truth must be told.
The Process of Truth-Telling
What would Oromo truth-telling look like? It would be:
Comprehensive: It would address the full scope of Oromo experience—the wars of conquest, the land dispossession, the cultural suppression, the legal discrimination, the economic exploitation.
Inclusive: It would center Oromo voices and perspectives, particularly those of the marginalized and the vulnerable. It would create space for all Oromo to share their experiences and their wisdom.
Courageous: It would face the difficult truths—the collaboration of some Oromo with the colonizer, the divisions that were created and exploited, the internal conflicts that weakened the resistance.
Forward-looking: It would be oriented toward building a better future—one that learns from the past without being imprisoned by it, one that acknowledges the wounds while working toward healing, one that seeks justice without perpetuating cycles of revenge.
Truthful: It would be honest about what happened and what continues to happen. It would not sanitize, minimize, or deny.
The Role of Oromo Journalism
The work of Oromo truth-telling has been carried forward by Oromo journalists, writers, and historians. From the early pioneers who risked imprisonment to publish in Afaan Oromo to the modern scholars who document the full scope of Oromo history, Oromo truth-tellers have kept the story alive.
Bariisaa, Yeroo, the Voice of Oromo Liberation—these and countless other Oromo media have been instruments of truth-telling, shining light into the darkness of suppression, giving voice to the voiceless, and preserving the memory of the Oromo people.
Oromo journalism is not just about reporting the news—it is about telling the truth. It is about documenting the history that others would erase, speaking the words that others would silence, and bearing witness to the experiences that others would deny.
The Healing Power of Truth
Truth-telling is not an end in itself—it is a beginning. It is the necessary first step on the long road to healing.
When Oromo history is finally told—in all its complexity and pain—it will not be an act of revenge. It will be an act of liberation. It will free the Oromo people from the burden of carrying a history they do not understand. It will free future generations from the weight of secrets and lies. It will create the conditions for genuine healing, reconciliation, and justice.
Truth-telling is not about keeping wounds open—it is about allowing them to heal properly. It is not about dwelling in the past—it is about building a future that is not haunted by it.
A Call to the Oromo People
The call to truth-telling is not a call to despair—it is a call to courage. It is a call to face the difficult truths of our history so that we can build a better future for our children and grandchildren.
It is a call to:
- Learn the history that was denied to us
- Speak the truth that was silenced
- Listen to the voices that were marginalized
- Remember the stories that were forgotten
- Heal the wounds that were ignored
- Build the future that is our birthright
The truth may be painful, but it is also liberating. The truth may be difficult, but it is also healing. The truth may be resisted, but it is also inevitable.
A Call to the International Community
The truth-telling imperative extends beyond Oromia. The international community has a role to play in supporting Oromo truth-telling, in recognizing the history of colonisation, and in working toward justice.
This is not about intervening in domestic affairs—it is about upholding universal principles of human rights, dignity, and justice. It is about recognizing that the past has not passed, that the impacts of colonisation continue to be felt, and that justice cannot be achieved without truth.
For Oromia to heal, the truth must be told. For Oromia to move forward, the past must be acknowledged. For Oromia to be free, the history of colonisation must be understood.
Conclusion: The Unfinished Work
The work of Oromo truth-telling is unfinished. It has been carried forward by generations of courageous individuals who refused to be silenced, who risked everything to tell the truth, who believed that justice would ultimately prevail.
We who stand today are the inheritors of that legacy. We are the ones who must complete the work. We are the ones who must tell the truth.
For the children who will grow up knowing their history—not the version sanitized by colonizers, but the full, complex, painful, and beautiful truth. For the communities that will finally understand how they were divided and how they can be healed. For the institutions that can be reformed and rebuilt on a foundation of justice. For the future that can be fairer and more equitable than the past.
You cannot heal what you refuse to acknowledge.
Let us acknowledge. Let us understand. Let us heal. Let us build.
“Oromo Truth-telling creates a shared understanding of how Oromia became the country it is. It allows Oromo voices to be heard instead of having our history explained for us. It is not about living in the past. It is about understanding the past so Oromia can build a fairer future.”
The work continues. The truth will be told. And Oromia will be free.
The Weight of Struggle: Why We Must Honor, Not Diminish, the Oromo Journey
Those who have walked the long road—through displacement, persecution, and sacrifice—deserve our deepest respect, not our casual dismissal
There is a dangerous tendency in our time—a habit of diminishing the sacrifices of those who came before us. It is easy to dismiss the struggles of others when we have not walked in their shoes, easy to minimize their pain when we have not felt its weight, easy to judge their choices when we have not faced their impossible dilemmas.
The reflection before us offers a powerful corrective to this tendency. It calls us to recognize the immense journey that the Oromo people have traveled—the trials they have endured, the sacrifices they have made, and the dignity they have maintained despite everything.
A People on the Move
“Nama Oromoo bu’aa bahii hedduu keessa darbuun har’a gahe, xiqqeessuu fi salphisuun faayidaan argamu hin jiru; jiraatus yoo nutti hafe wayya.”
The Oromo person who has passed through many trials to reach today—there is no benefit in belittling or diminishing them. Even if something remains, it would be better if it were left to us.
This statement is a profound meditation on the relationship between generations. It recognizes that the Oromo people have endured extraordinary hardships—centuries of colonization, decades of cultural suppression, generations of displacement, and waves of brutal repression.
The Oromo who stand before us today are the products of that struggle. They carry the scars of battles fought long before we were born. They speak with voices that have known silence, cry with eyes that have seen too much, and hope with hearts that have been broken and rebuilt countless times.
To diminish them is to diminish ourselves. To belittle their achievements is to belittle the very foundation upon which we stand.
The Journey of Exile
“Oromoon hedduun imala godaansaa keessatti gidiraa hedduu keessa darban.”
Many Oromo have passed through great difficulties during their journey of displacement. The Oromo diaspora is not a story of voluntary migration—it is a story of flight, of seeking refuge from persecution, of leaving everything behind to preserve life itself.
The Oromo exile began long before the modern era. Generations of Oromo have been forced to flee their homeland—escaping war, famine, political repression, and the systematic destruction of their communities. They have crossed borders, oceans, and continents in search of safety.
This is not a journey of choice. It is a journey of survival. And every Oromo who has made this journey carries with them the weight of what they have lost and the hope of what they might yet find.
Trials by Fire
“Biyya baqannaa keessatti qormaata hedduuf saaxilanii darban.”
In the lands of refuge, they have faced countless trials. The experience of exile is not a simple escape from danger—it is an entry into new forms of struggle. Oromo refugees and migrants have faced xenophobia, discrimination, economic exploitation, cultural isolation, and the constant anxiety of uncertain legal status.
They have had to rebuild their lives from nothing—learning new languages, adapting to new cultures, accepting menial jobs that their education and skills should have surpassed. They have been separated from families, disconnected from communities, and forced to navigate systems that were never designed for them.
And yet they have persisted. They have built new communities in foreign lands. They have preserved their language, their culture, and their identity against all odds. They have sent remittances home to support the struggle. They have educated their children, established organizations, and kept the flame of Oromo identity burning bright.
The Danger of Diminishment
“Qormaata isaan mudatee fi keessa darban kan akka tasaa ykn beekaa nu harka gale baafnee ittiin isaan salphisuu fi xiqqeessuuf yaaluun akka naamusa hojiittis akka safuu hojiittis fudhatama hin qabu.”
To try to belittle and diminish the trials they have endured and passed through—by claiming that we have miraculously or knowingly achieved what they could not—is unacceptable as a matter of both professional ethics and moral decency.
The reflection speaks directly to a troubling phenomenon: the tendency of some to dismiss the struggles of earlier generations, to claim that they somehow would have done better, or to minimize the sacrifices that made current achievements possible.
This is not merely disrespectful—it is historically and morally wrong.
Those who walked the path before us faced challenges we cannot fully comprehend. They operated under conditions we have never experienced. They made choices with limited information and in impossible circumstances. Their achievements, whatever their limitations, are the foundation upon which our current position is built.
The Ethics of Respect
The reflection argues that belittling the struggles of others is unacceptable for two reasons:
First, as a matter of professional ethics—”naamusa hojii” —there is a standard of conduct that requires us to respect the work of those who came before. In any field, to dismiss the contributions of predecessors is to reject the very tradition that made our own work possible.
Second, as a matter of moral decency—”safuu hojii” —there is a basic human obligation to honor the sacrifices of others. To diminish someone’s suffering is a form of violence. To deny someone’s struggle is a form of erasure.
Those who have sacrificed for the Oromo cause deserve our gratitude, not our judgment. They deserve our respect, not our condescension. They deserve to be honored, not diminished.
Lessons for the Current Generation
The reflection offers several important lessons for those of us who inherit the legacy of the Oromo struggle:
1. Recognition: We must recognize that our current position—whatever it may be—is built upon the foundations laid by others. We did not create Oromo identity; we inherited it. We did not invent the Oromo struggle; we continue it.
2. Humility: We must approach the achievements of earlier generations with humility. We may have advantages they did not—better technology, more resources, greater international awareness—but we also face challenges they did not. Neither generation is superior; each has played its part.
3. Gratitude: We must be grateful for the sacrifices of those who came before. Every Oromo who can read and write in Afaan Oromo today owes a debt to those who risked imprisonment to publish in the language. Every Oromo who can express pride in their identity owes a debt to those who were tortured for doing the same.
4. Continuity: We must understand that we are part of a continuing story. The Oromo struggle did not begin with us, and it will not end with us. Our role is to carry forward the legacy, to build upon the foundations, and to pass on something better to those who will come after.
The Unfinished Journey
“Nama Oromoo bu’aa bahii hedduu keessa darbuun har’a gahe…”
The Oromo person who has passed through many trials to reach today—this is not a description of a completed journey. It is a description of a journey still underway.
The Oromo people are still struggling. They are still fighting for recognition, for rights, for self-determination. They are still facing oppression, discrimination, and violence. The fact that some have found refuge in other countries does not mean the struggle is over. The fact that some have achieved success in exile does not mean the homeland is free.
Each generation has its role to play. Each generation faces its own challenges. And each generation must honor the sacrifices of those who made its own achievements possible.
The Weight of Legacy
The reflection calls us to consider the weight of what we have inherited. The Oromo people have a long and painful history—a history of colonization, suppression, exile, and struggle. But it is also a history of resilience, resistance, cultural preservation, and hope.
When we diminish the struggles of those who came before, we diminish the entire Oromo story. When we belittle their achievements, we belittle the foundation upon which our own identity is built.
Instead, we should approach the Oromo journey with reverence—understanding that every scar tells a story, every sacrifice has meaning, and every achievement is a victory against overwhelming odds.
The Call to Unity
At its heart, this reflection is a call to unity—a call to recognize that we are all part of the same story, that we are all connected by the same struggle, that we all owe a debt to those who came before.
To dismiss the struggles of earlier generations is to divide the Oromo community. It is to create false hierarchies between generations. It is to claim that some are more authentic, more committed, or more deserving than others.
This is a dangerous path. It leads to fragmentation, resentment, and the weakening of the collective struggle. It serves only the interests of the oppressor, who benefits when the oppressed are divided.
Conclusion
“Nama Oromoo bu’aa bahii hedduu keessa darbuun har’a gahe, xiqqeessuu fi salphisuun faayidaan argamu hin jiru; jiraatus yoo nutti hafe wayya.”
The Oromo person who has passed through many trials to reach today—there is no benefit in belittling or diminishing them. Even if something remains, it would be better if it were left to us.
This is a statement of respect. It is a statement of gratitude. It is a statement of continuity.
We who inherit the Oromo legacy must approach it with humility. We must recognize that we stand on the shoulders of giants—of those who preserved the language when it was forbidden, who kept the culture alive when it was suppressed, who fought for justice when it was dangerous, and who maintained hope when all seemed lost.
Let us honor their sacrifices. Let us build upon their foundations. Let us continue their struggle. And let us never forget that we are part of a long and noble tradition—a tradition of resilience, resistance, and the unwavering pursuit of freedom.
“Nama Oromoo bu’aa bahii hedduu keessa darbuun har’a gahe…”
The Oromo person who has passed through many trials to reach today…
May we always honor that journey. May we always respect that struggle. And may we always remember that we are the inheritors of a legacy that demands our deepest gratitude and our most dedicated service.
The journey continues. The struggle endures. And the story of the Oromo people will be told with the dignity it deserves.
The Blueprint of Victory: Why Oromo Success Demands Rejecting the Counsel of the Defeated
By Daandii Ragabaa
There is an old, unspoken rule in the theater of struggle: survivors write the history, but losers write the excuses. In the Oromo context, where the collective quest for self-determination, economic freedom, and cultural preservation is a daily examination of resilience, one question haunts the community: Who are we listening to?
A sobering observation often echoes through the chambers of Oromo intellectual discourse:
“Oromoonni hedduu gorsa qajeelaa argataa hin jiran. Namni qormaata darbuu barbaadu, nama qormaata kufe irraa gorsa fudhachuu hin qabu. Namoonni hedduun namoota qormaata qabsoo kufan irraa gorsa fudhatu; sun ta’uu hin qabu.”
Translated, it reads: “Many Oromo do not have proper guidance. Whoever wants to pass the test must stop taking advice from those who failed it. [Yet] many people do not take advice from those who failed the struggle.”
At first glance, the final sentence seems contradictory—if they don’t take advice from failures, why do they lack proper guidance? The answer lies in a painful paradox: the public square is dominated by the loud, defeated voices, while the silent, victorious architects remain obscured. This is the critical juncture where the Oromo struggle must evolve—from a theater of sympathy to a laboratory of strategic success.
The Danger of the Familiar Echo
Human psychology is wired for comfort. We gravitate toward those who validate our pain. When a community has faced systemic marginalization, it is easy to find solace in the company of those who share tales of bureaucratic stonewalling, economic collapse, or political betrayal.
But here lies the trap. The advice of a person who has never built a business, never negotiated a diplomatic win, or never successfully organized a self-sustaining institution is not just useless—it is parasitic.
The philosophy embedded in this Oromo axiom demands a radical break. The qormaata (exam) is not merely a classroom test; it is the existential evaluation of a nation. Are we passing the test of economic independence? Are we passing the test of educational excellence? Are we passing the test of diplomatic recognition? If the answer is no, we must scrutinize the source of our daily counsel.
Why the “Defeated” Cannot Guide the Victorious
To understand why one must stop taking advice from those who failed, we must define “failure” in the context of struggle. It is not the noble failure of a soldier who falls on the battlefield fighting an invincible force. It is the ideological failure of those who succumb to defeatism before the battle begins. It is the failure of those who normalize mediocrity, who preach that the system is “too big to beat,” and who mistake loud lamentation for meaningful action.
A student preparing for a rigorous medical entrance exam would never hire a tutor who failed the same exam five times. Why? Because failure does not produce the methodology of success. It produces the psychology of survival. The person who passed knows the shortcuts, the mindset shifts, and the precise sacrifices required. The person who failed knows only the pitfalls—and misery loves company.
The Silent Crisis of Mentorship
The axiom notes that many Oromo do not have proper guidance. This is the root catastrophe. In the diaspora and at home, the community is saturated with “critics” but starved of “architects.” We have an abundance of orators who can deconstruct oppression flawlessly, yet a scarcity of engineers who can construct the alternative.
Why do many avoid taking advice from those who did fail? Because those who failed are often the loudest. They dominate social media, they command the narrative of grievance, and they offer the easiest emotional catharsis. Meanwhile, those who have successfully passed the “exam”—the Oromo entrepreneurs running thriving global enterprises, the scholars published in top-tier journals, the diplomats navigating international corridors—are often too busy building to correct the noise.
The Paradigm Shift: Seek the Blueprint
The call here is not to abandon empathy, but to elevate strategy. If you are a young Oromo activist, do not ask the career protester how to build a political party; ask the person who actually registered a party and sustained it. If you are a student, do not ask the perpetual job-seeker for career advice; ask the professional who climbed the corporate ladder or built their own firm.
Empowerment theory, as discussed in previous discourses, argues that power is generated through competence. To break the cycle of collective stagnation, the Oromo must institutionalize a culture of Gorsa Qajeelaa—correct and proven guidance.
A Call for Discernment
The road to Bilisummaa (Freedom) is paved with strategic decisions, not emotional impulses. The “exam” we face is unforgiving. It does not award points for noble intentions; it awards results for precise actions.
It is time to adjust the volume dial. Turn down the noise of perpetual defeatism. Seek out the quiet victors in your midst. Ask them: “How did you pass?” And when they answer, take notes.
Because in the final tally of history, we are not judged by how eloquently we complained, but by how decisively we conquered. And we conquer by learning from the winners, not the defeated.
Understanding Our Past to Build a Strong Future
On a Pile of Ashes…!
In an age of relentless information and manufactured outrage, the future of our people demands reflection over reaction, wisdom over noise
The words come to us like embers carried on a restless wind—dangerous, seductive, and capable of igniting fires that will burn for generations. “On a pile of ashes…!” This is the warning cry of our time, a call to pause and reflect before we add fuel to flames that threaten to consume everything our ancestors built.
The reflection from Dabaree Seenaa arrives as a timely antidote to the poison of our age—an age where words are weaponized, history is manipulated, and the future is sacrificed on the altar of immediate gratification.
The Anatomy of Division
“Dubbiin keenya, akka akka! Namootni hedduun, madaa babal’isaa oolu.”
Our words, like a contagious disease, spread rapidly. In this digital age, a single statement can circle the globe in seconds, reaching millions before any examination of its truth or consequence can take place. We have become a people of reaction, not reflection—of impulse, not intention.
The reflection observes that many among us have abandoned the future of our country and nation in favor of obsessing over the past. They speak to pit one generation against another, to sow discord where unity should prevail, to magnify old wounds instead of seeking healing.
“Dhimmoota, egeree biyyaa fi sabaa dhiisanii, dhimmoota kaleessa darban irratti xiyyeeffatanii dhaloota wal dura dhaabuuf kan dubbatan fakkaatu.”
This phenomenon is not accidental. It is a strategy—one that benefits those who seek to keep us divided, distracted, and weak. When a people are consumed by past grievances, they cannot build a future. When generations are pitted against each other, the nation crumbles from within.
The reflection asks the crucial question: Is this the work of enemies seeking to destroy us, or the work of those who, in their ignorance, serve the enemy’s agenda?
“Ajandaa akkanaa kana eenyutu, maaliif yeroo isaa maleetti bixxilanii dhaloota gidduutti facaasuu fi burjaajessuuf hojjechuu feesise?”
The Weight of Timing
“Wanti raawwannuu fi dubbannu yoo yeroo isaa hin ta’iin miidhaa moo faay’idaa qaba?”
This question cuts to the heart of our collective dilemma: Is what we say and do, if it is not timed properly, beneficial or harmful?
The reflection reminds us that not every truth needs to be spoken at every moment. Not every grievance needs to be aired in every forum. There is wisdom in timing, prudence in patience, and strength in strategic silence.
“Yeroo amma ummatni keenya maal keessa jira? Kamtu dursa? Ajandaan kun fafa moo bu’aa fida?”
What is our people facing right now? What should take priority? Does this agenda bring solutions or merely add to our burdens?
These are questions that too few of us ask before we speak, post, or share. We are so eager to be heard that we forget to consider whether what we have to say is worth hearing.
The Danger of Historical Obsession
“Kaleessa baay’een keenya, madoofneerra. Garuu kan dursu gidiraa sabni keenya keessa jirudha.”
The reflection does not deny the past. It acknowledges that many of us have been wounded, that we carry the scars of history. But it insists that the most urgent task is the present crisis our people face.
We cannot build the future by endlessly revisiting the past. The wounds we carry must be addressed—not to keep them open, but to allow them to heal.
“Dhimmoota xiyyeeffannoo babaadan irratti hojjechuutu, dhaloota sagantaa fi karoora qabu, tooftaa fi tarsiimoo qabu ta’a.”
The work of true leadership is to focus on matters of substance, to build a generation with vision and strategy, with tactics and methodology. Not a generation consumed by nostalgia and grievance, but one equipped for the challenges of the future.
The Call for Critical Thinking
“Yaadni tokko yeroo miidiyaatti as bahu, jarjartiin deebii itti kennuun dura, duraa duubaan xiinxaluun, deebii fi yaada bilchaataa, dhimmota dhufan sanaaf deebii quubsaa ta’e kennuutu male.”
When an idea emerges in the media, the temptation is to respond immediately—to react, to counter, to defend. But the reflection calls for something different: thoughtful analysis, measured response, and consideration of the long-term consequences.
“Sababni isaa, dhalootni hubannoo qajeelaa fi wal simu akka qabaatuuf jechuu kooti.”
The reason for this careful approach is that we want a generation that understands clearly and agrees with each other. We want unity, not division; consensus, not chaos.
“Sun hin mul’atu. Hunduu walumaan huursa! ‘Cittoo irratti fanxoo!'”
But this is not what we see. Instead, we see confusion everywhere—people rushing to add their voices to the noise, to throw more fuel on the fire, to declare themselves the righteous ones while condemning all others.
The Function of History
“Namni seenaa kaleessaa qofaa odeessu, kan boruu si dagachiisuuf ta’uun dagatamuu hin qabu.”
History is not meant to be merely recited; it is meant to be learned from. Those who obsess over the past without extracting its lessons are not serving the future—they are serving to make us forget the future.
“Rakkoo fi gaarii kaleessa muudatee fi ture, irraa baratuun qaawwaa jiru irratti hojjechuutu fala.”
The solution lies not in repeating the stories of the past but in learning from the problems and successes we have experienced. Study the past, yes—but apply those lessons to address the gaps and challenges of today.
“Namootni saba isaaniif quuqama dhugaa qabanis dursa, biyyaa fi saba isaaniif kennu!”
Those who truly serve their people must give priority to what their people need now—not what happened decades ago, not what grievances remain unresolved, but what will build a better future.
The Limits of Historical Recitation
“Seenaa kaleessaa qofa deddeebisanii lallabuun garuu bu’aa ni qabaa? Yoo dhalootaaf faayidaa qabaate, dhalootaaf ibsaa deemuutu wayyaadha!”
What benefit is there in endlessly repeating the past? If it benefits the people, it should enlighten the people! If it serves the future, it should illuminate the path forward.
“Akka kanaan furmaatni dhufu ni jiraa? Furmaata sana dhalootaaf akeekuutu feesisa.”
Will solutions come from this approach? We must explain the solutions to the people—not just the problems, not just the grievances, but the practical, achievable path to a better future.
“Akka guuta lagaa fi dambalii galaanaa ta’uun, egeree biyyaa fi sabaaf fala hin fidu.”
Being like a sandbank in a river or a wave in the sea—carried by every current, shaped by every tide—does not bring solutions to the nation and the people.
“Xiqqaatii haga guddaattuu, tooftaa fi tarsiimoo dhabatu, ajandaa guyyuunuu bocamaa oolaniin buubbisuun kufaatii guddaadha.”
From small things to great, lacking strategy and methodology, disseminating an agenda shaped by whoever is in power—this is a recipe for failure.
“Rakkoo kaleessaa odeessaa ooluun, sabni gidiraa keessaa bahe hin jiru. Nama yaaddessa!”
By merely narrating past problems, the people have not emerged from their difficulties. This is something to think deeply about!
The Danger of Emotion
“Muffii-Komii-Xiiqii Fi Miirrii dhuunfaa keenyaa, egeree waloo sabaa fi biyyaa keenyaa kuffisuu akka danda’u, yaaduun gaarii natti fakkaata!”
Our anger, our complaints, our frustrations, and our personal feelings—the reflection suggests it is worth considering that these can destroy the shared future of our nation and people.
Emotions are natural, even necessary. But when they drive our decisions, when they shape our actions, when they become our guiding principles—they can lead us to disaster.
“Kun kana ta’ee, adeemsa dheeraa keessa yeroo hedduu wantin hubadhe tokko; haalaa, yeroo fi bakka garagaraa keessatti, namootni baay’een hanga maqaa isaanii hin gahan.”
This being the case, one thing I have learned over a long process, in various conditions, times, and places: many people do not even understand their own reputation. They speak and act without considering how they will be perceived or what legacy they will leave.
“Hanga of himanii fi dubbatan hin gahan. Kun hubatamuu qaba.”
They do not understand what they say or do. This must be recognized.
The Path of Wisdom
“Yaada dhihaataan hundaaf, hamaamota ta’uu irraa of qabuutu wayya.”
For every idea that emerges, it is better to refrain from being among those who rush to judgment. Patience, observation, and careful consideration are virtues we must cultivate.
“Siyaasa shiraa facaafamaan, ija siyaasaatiin ilaaluudha.”
The politics that spreads division must be viewed through the eye of political awareness. We must understand the motives behind the messages we receive.
“Waanti dhageenyu hundi, dhugaas sobas miti.”
Not everything we hear is truth—and not everything we hear is false. The world is not divided simply into lies and truth. There is complexity, nuance, and context that must be understood.
“Odoo hin dubbatiin, osoo hin murteessiin akka dhageenyetti, murtee kennuun sirrii miti.”
Without speaking, without judging—simply by listening, it is not correct to pass judgment. We must gather information, consider perspectives, and only then form conclusions.
“Rakkoo irratti rakkoo biraa akka hin uumneef nu gargaara.”
This approach helps us avoid creating new problems on top of existing ones. It prevents the escalation of conflict and the multiplication of grievances.
“Dhugummaa fi sobummaa isaa adda baafachuutu dursa. Namummaan isa kanadha!”
Distinguishing truth from falsehood must come first. This is what humanity demands!
A Call to Reflection
“Dimshaashumatti, dhalootni tasgabbii fi obsaan yaadota midiyaa kana irratti facaamu ilaaluu wayya.”
In summary, it is better for the generation to examine the ideas circulating in the media with patience and calm. Not everything that appears is urgent; not everything that is urgent is true.
“Dubbii cidii irratti ibidda darbii akka hin taane.”
Do not be like someone who passes fire on a burning wall—spreading flames without thought of the consequences.
“Loogii malee, dhugaaf hojjechuudha.”
Work for truth, not for favor. Seek what is right, not what is popular.
“Yaadota guyyaa guyyaan, midiyaa kana irratti dhufan, akeekaa fi kaayyoo isaa hubatuu feesisa.”
For the daily ideas that arrive in the media, we need to understand their meaning and purpose. What is being said? Why is it being said? Who benefits? Who is harmed?
“Bilchina, gahumsaa fi muuxannoo qabaachaa deemuun, dhaloota ititee fi gurmuu qabu nu taasisa.”
Moving forward with openness, capability, and experience will make us a generation that can withstand challenges and deliver solutions.
“Dammaquu, barachuu fi ijaaramuutu, sabaa fi biyyaaf bu’aa qaba.”
Mobilizing, learning, and building—this is what benefits the nation and the people.
“Isa kaleessaa irraa barachuun, isa boruutiif warraaquutu biyyaa walaba baasa!!”
Learning from the past to prepare for the future—this is what leads a nation to progress and prosperity!
Conclusion
“Yaada koo xumureera. Horaa-bulaa! ‘Kaayyoon, laayyoo miti!'”
My thought is complete. May you prosper! “The goal is not entertainment!”
This final statement is perhaps the most important of all. The reflection is not meant to entertain, to amuse, or to comfort. It is meant to awaken, to challenge, and to guide.
The goal of those who truly love their people must be the flourishing of their nation—not the satisfaction of personal grievances, not the pursuit of power or status, not the desire to be heard or recognized.
The goal is the goal itself: a free, just, and prosperous Oromiya. A generation that builds rather than destroys. A people that unites rather than divides. A future that learns from the past without being imprisoned by it.
“Cittoo irratti fanxoo…!”
On a pile of ashes, we must not build more fire. We must build foundations. We must build hope. We must build a future worthy of the sacrifices of those who came before us.
The time for reaction is over. The time for reflection has begun.
“Kaayyoon, laayyoo miti!”
The goal is not entertainment—it is liberation, it is justice, it is the future of our people.
May we all rise to the challenge.
