Category Archives: mental health
The Irreechaa Protocol: How an Ancient Festival Provides a Blueprint for Collective Mental Health Intervention
What if healing from trauma is not meant to be a solitary journey but a communal ritual—one that has been practised for centuries?
In an era where mental health professionals increasingly recognise the limitations of individual therapeutic models for addressing collective trauma, a centuries-old festival offers an unexpected but profoundly effective blueprint. The Oromo people’s Irreechaa—an annual thanksgiving celebration held at sacred water bodies like Hora Arsadii (Bishoftu) and Hora Finfinnee—functions as what scholars describe as “cultural therapy”: a cyclical, collective practice that restores dignity, cohesion, and hope after generations of political marginalisation .
For a people who have endured conquest, linguistic suppression, and systematic cultural erasure, Irreechaa is far more than a seasonal celebration. It is a sophisticated, community-based mental health intervention that has sustained Oromo resilience for centuries. By examining the Irreechaa protocol—its structure, its symbols, and its therapeutic mechanisms—we may find a model for collective healing that transcends cultural boundaries.
The Foundation of Collective Trauma
The Oromo experience of historical trauma is textbook in its severity. Late-19th-century imperial expansion violently incorporated Oromo homelands into the Ethiopian Empire, followed by over a century of political and cultural subordination . Oromo institutions, including aspects of the Gadaa governance system, were constrained or suppressed, and the public status of Afaan Oromoo was systematically diminished .
This represents what scholars term “cumulative, collective wounding”—mass harms that echo across generations through families and institutions . The result is not merely individual psychological distress but a community-wide experience of internalised devaluation, social fragmentation, and disconnection.
Conventional mental health approaches—individual therapy, medication, and cognitive interventions—can address symptoms but often fail to heal the underlying collective wounds. The Irreechaa protocol offers an alternative: a community-based intervention designed to restore what was broken collectively.
The Therapeutic Structure of Irreechaa
Irreechaa’s choreography follows a remarkably consistent pattern: pilgrimage to sacred water, symbolic washing, public prayer, group singing and dancing, and the leadership of elders . This structure is not accidental; it aligns precisely with what anthropologists identify as the key elements of “ritual repair.”
Recognition: Countering Internalised Devaluation
One of the most insidious effects of historical oppression is internalised inferiority—members of marginalised groups absorb the dominant society’s negative messages about their identity. Irreechaa counters this through public, mass affirmation . When millions gather in traditional white attire, singing Dhaanto, and performing the Shaggooyee dance, they are not just celebrating; they are visibly, collectively reclaiming dignity .
For Oromo youth—particularly those in the diaspora—this public celebration of their culture combats marginalisation and fosters confidence . It tells them that their identity is not something to hide but something to celebrate with pride.
Regulation: Choreographing Healing
The physical elements of Irreechaa serve a regulatory function that echoes evidence-based trauma interventions. Structured songs, rhythmic movement, and shared timing “calm bodies and synchronise emotion” . This mirrors approaches like EMDR (Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing), where bilateral stimulation helps process traumatic material.
Psychologically, this is “psycho-bio-social regulation” . The body and mind work together to process emotional material, with collective synchrony amplifying the therapeutic effect. When tens of thousands move and sing together, the result is a form of community-wide emotional regulation that no individual therapist could replicate.
Reconnection: Rebuilding Social Bonds
Historical trauma isolates; ritual reconnects. Anthropologists have long described how public rituals generate what they call “communitas”—an intense sense of togetherness that suspends everyday hierarchies . At Irreechaa, this communitas creates “prosocial bonds that reduce isolation and renew civic agency” .
The festival’s multi-generational participation reinforces this reconnection . Elders demonstrate rituals like the Eebba (blessings) and traditional dances , while children and youth participate actively, creating a continuity of social bonds that bridges generations. This is not simply a pleasant experience; it is a vital antidote to the social fragmentation that oppression produces.
The Water Blessing: Symbolic Washing Away
The most iconic Irreechaa ritual involves participants entering sacred water and symbolically washing away hardship . This act operates on multiple levels simultaneously:
Symbolically, it represents cleansing from past trauma and preparation for renewal. Psychologically, it provides a physical mechanism for emotional release. Communally, it creates a shared experience that binds participants together.
For diaspora Oromo, adaptations of this water ritual in park settings serve similar functions, connecting a community separated by geography to the healing practices of their ancestors . Planting trees alongside these symbolic water rituals extends the theme of renewal to ecological consciousness .
The Shadow: When Healing Attracts Threat
The very power that makes Irreechaa therapeutic also makes it threatening to forces seeking to maintain dominance. The 2016 Bishoftu tragedy—where security forces’ crowd control triggered a stampede that killed scores—etched a deep collective trauma into Oromo memory . This event reinforced fears that peaceful cultural gatherings can be violently disrupted.
Subsequent Irreechaa celebrations have often featured heavy policing, preemptive arrests, and restrictions that rights groups criticise as disproportionate . The “securitisation” of Irreechaa reflects a fundamental reality: visible, unified collective identity threatens projects that rely on minimising that group’s visibility and power .
Yet the festival continues to grow. In 2025, tens of thousands gathered in Addis Ababa and Bishoftu, with Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed addressing the crowd . The celebration has become a complex space where cultural resurgence, political symbolism, and community grievance intersect .
A Blueprint for Collective Intervention
What can the Irreechaa protocol teach mental health practitioners, community organisers, and policymakers?
1. Collective Healing Requires Collective Ritual
Individual therapy cannot fully address historical trauma because the wound is communal. Interventions must create spaces where communities can heal together.
2. Symbolism Matters
Water, music, movement, and traditional attire are not superficial decorations; they are therapeutic vehicles that engage the whole person.
3. Intergenerational Participation Is Essential
Children and elders healing together creates continuity that individual approaches cannot achieve.
4. Regularity Builds Resilience
Irreechaa’s cyclical nature—held annually, marking seasonal change—provides ongoing, predictable support.
5. Cultural Grounding Is Strength
Cultural practices adapted to trauma healing are not barriers to evidence-based approaches; they are themselves evidence-based approaches refined over generations.
Conclusion
Irreechaa demonstrates that collective healing is not only possible but has been practised for centuries. Its protocol—recognition, regulation, and reconnection through public ritual—provides a template that could be adapted across cultures and contexts.
As scholars of historical trauma note, healing requires “shared remembrance, mourning, and culturally grounded practices that rebuild meaning and agency” . The Irreechaa protocol provides exactly that: a culturally grounded practice that rebuilds meaning and agency for millions.
For mental health professionals, the lesson is clear: the best interventions may not be found in clinical manuals but in the living traditions of communities that have survived and thrived despite centuries of attempted erasure. The Irreechaa protocol is not just a festival; it is a toolkit for collective mental health, refined over generations and proven effective by the very survival of the Oromo people.
“Irreechaa’s power is double-edged: the very practices that heal—public recognition, shared emotion, embodied solidarity—also unsettle projects that rely on minimising Oromo visibility. The path forward is not to shrink Irreechaa but to secure it: treat it as a national asset, protect rights equally, and let ritual do its quiet work of repair” .
The Two Humiliations of TPLF: A Reflection on Power, Pride, and the Oromo Awakening
In the shifting sands of Ethiopian politics, the Tigrayan People’s Liberation Front has suffered wounds that time has not healed—and the Oromo people remain the central characters in this unfolding drama
In the annals of Ethiopian political history, few organizations have risen as high or fallen as dramatically as the Tigrayan People’s Liberation Front (TPLF). For nearly three decades, it dominated the political landscape of the Ethiopian Empire, ruling with an iron fist while projecting an image of revolutionary legitimacy. Yet today, the TPLF finds itself nursing wounds that history will not allow it to forget—wounds inflicted not by foreign enemies but by the very people it sought to subjugate.
The reflection of Abba Ebba offers a searing analysis of what he calls the “two humiliations” of the TPLF—humiliations that, in his view, are inextricably linked to the Oromo people and their awakening. These are not merely military defeats but moral and political reckonings that the TPLF has been unable to accept or process.
The First Humiliation: The Fall of Mekelle
“For 27 years, like the saying ‘the hare’s skin cannot cover the elephant,’ the TPLF tried to stretch its hide over an empire too vast for its frame. In the final hour, it was the sons and daughters of Oromo—the Qeerroo and Qarree—who stood before tanks with empty hands and brought down the regime. They made the TPLF retreat to Mekelle, dragging its ill-gotten wealth behind it. This is the first humiliation that remains unhealed to this day.”
The 2018 Oromo protests were not merely a political uprising—they were a seismic shift in the Ethiopian political landscape. The Oromo youth, known as the Qeerroo and Qarree, rose in a wave of popular resistance that the TPLF could not contain. The protests were decentralized, leaderless, and yet remarkably unified in their demands for justice, equality, and an end to the TPLF’s domination .
The TPLF, which had ruled Ethiopia for 27 years, was forced to abandon power and retreat to its northern stronghold of Mekelle. This was not a defeat by a rival military force but a collapse in the face of unarmed civilian resistance. The humiliation was profound and, according to Abba Ebba, has never been truly accepted by the TPLF leadership.
“The TPLF was defeated by the popular wave that ignited from one end of Oromia to the other—a wave that was part of the Oromo liberation struggle. This is an undeniable truth. The Oromo is an elephant; when it tramples, it crushes. The TPLF was forced to swallow this reality, whether it liked it or not.”
The Second Humiliation: The Retreat to Mekelle
The second humiliation followed the first. After initially retreating to Mekelle, the TPLF sought to reassert its influence on the national stage. It formed alliances with various forces—including some within the Amhara political spectrum—and attempted to challenge the Prosperity Party government.
However, this effort ended in another defeat. The TPLF was forced to retreat once again to Mekelle, leaving behind its ambitions and its allies, having consumed itself in the fires it had ignited. This second retreat, Abba Ebba argues, is the other humiliation that remains raw and unprocessed .
“When the TPLF was about to return to Addis Ababa, it found itself burned by the fire it had started. It was forced to retreat to Mekelle—another humiliation that has not faded.”
The Unlearned Lesson
Despite these humiliations, the TPLF has not learned its lesson. Instead, it continues to prepare for a new war, this time under the cover of the Prosperity Party government’s own challenges. After four years of uninterrupted military preparation, the TPLF is once again positioning itself for conflict .
Abba Ebba warns that this preparation is driven by a desire for revenge—a desire to settle scores with the Oromo people who, in the TPLF’s view, are responsible for its humiliations. “Under the cover of the Prosperity Party government, the TPLF is seeking to take revenge on our people for its past humiliations.”
The Unnecessary Price
Abba Ebba poses a pointed question: why must the Oromo people pay the price for the TPLF’s ambitions? Why must Oromia become a battlefield for conflicts that are not of its making?
“The TPLF did not need to travel 600 kilometres into the heart of the country, into the breadbasket of Ethiopia—Oromia. It could have declared Eritrea-style independence when the Derg fell, and it could do so today. All it needs is to settle its accounts and secure the consent of its people.”
The TPLF’s refusal to accept defeat has left the Oromo people caught between multiple threats. On one hand, there is the TPLF’s continued military preparations and its desire for revenge. On the other, there are forces like Fano and other armed groups that have also targeted Oromo communities.
The Oromo Elite’s Responsibility
Abba Ebba also points a finger at the Oromo elite, accusing them of failing to fulfill their responsibilities. The Oromo people, who have paid the heaviest price in the struggle against the Ethiopian Empire, now face a dual threat: the TPLF’s revanchism and the Oromo elite’s failure to protect the gains of the struggle.
“The Oromo elite has failed to protect the historic victory achieved by the Oromo popular struggle. It has also failed to protect the constitutional right to self-determination—the right to democracy, justice, and self-rule—from being undermined.”
This failure, Abba Ebba argues, has allowed the Oromo people to be marginalized and treated with suspicion by their neighbours. The Oromo elite’s failure to step up has left the people vulnerable to manipulation and exclusion.
A Call to Vigilance
Abba Ebba concludes with a call to the Oromo people:
“Our people must prepare themselves for the danger of the approaching war and actively monitor the situation. The war that is being prepared—whether by TPLF or by the Fano forces—poses a threat to the next generation of Oromo. Decisive action must be taken to find a lasting solution.”
He insists that Oromia must not become a doormat for the ambitions of others. “Oromia will not be a doormat for Fano or the TPLF! With its determined sons and daughters, it will stand, honoured and respected, and it will endure forever.”
A Historical Warning
The reflection of Abba Ebba is not merely a commentary on contemporary politics—it is a historical warning. It reminds the Oromo people that the TPLF, despite its humiliations, has not abandoned its ambitions. The two humiliations remain unhealed, and the TPLF continues to seek revenge.
But the reflection also carries a message of hope and resolve. The Oromo people, having risen once, can rise again. The elephant has crushed its enemies before, and it can do so again.
Conclusion
The two humiliations of the TPLF are more than military or political defeats—they are symbolic wounds that the organization has not been able to accept. The TPLF’s refusal to learn from its past has left the Oromo people facing a renewed threat. But the Oromo people, having already demonstrated their power, are not powerless.
As Abba Ebba declares: “Oromia will not be a doormat for Fano or the TPLF! With its determined sons and daughters, it will stand, honoured and respected, and it will endure forever.”
The elephant has crushed its enemies before, and it can do so again.
WHEN DREAMS TAKE ROOT: Why an Oromia Freedom Struggle Dream Can Grow Better
A story of constitutional promise, cultural resurgence, and the long arc toward justice
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For generations, the Oromo freedom struggle has been defined by its resilience. Through decades of marginalization, forced displacement, and systemic exclusion, the dream has endured—not as a fading memory, but as a living force that refuses to be extinguished.
Today, that dream stands at a crossroads. The path forward is neither simple nor guaranteed. But beneath the surface of conflict and political turbulence, there are reasons to believe that the Oromo freedom struggle dream can grow better—not despite the challenges, but because of the lessons learned, the institutions built, and the constitutional foundations that remain, however imperfectly, in place.
This is the story of why that dream can flourish.
THE CONSTITUTIONAL FOUNDATION: A PROMISE WAITING TO BE KEPT
Every great struggle requires a legal and moral framework. For the Oromo people, that framework exists in Ethiopia’s 1995 Constitution—a document that, on paper, offers something remarkable.
Article 39 of the Constitution affirms that every “nation, nationality, and people” has the unconditional right to self-determination, including the right to secession. The Constitution established Ethiopia as a multinational federal state, granting autonomy to minorities based on territorial boundaries and empowering self-rule and regional control. Afaan Oromo is now used in Oromia’s courts, schools, and bureaucracy, reversing decades of marginalization.
Yet scholars describe a persistent gap between constitutional promise and political reality. Federal practice has remained markedly centralized. The question of Oromia’s special interests in Finfinne (Addis Ababa) remains largely unresolved.
This gap is not a reason for despair—it is a reason for hope. The Constitution exists. The legal framework is in place. The struggle ahead is not to create new rights, but to enforce existing ones. When constitutional guarantees are ignored, public trust erodes; but when they are finally implemented, the foundation for lasting peace is laid.
POLITICAL EVOLUTION: FROM ARMED STRUGGLE TO POLITICAL ENGAGEMENT
The Oromo Liberation Front (OLF), established in 1973 as a political organization advocating for the self-determination of the Oromo people, has undergone a remarkable transformation. In 2018, the Ethiopian government removed the OLF from its terrorist list, allowing its leaders to return from exile. In June 2025, the OLF officially regained access to its headquarters in Finfinne (Addis Ababa), which it had been unable to use since August 2020.
This is not merely symbolic. It represents a shift from armed resistance to political engagement—a recognition that sustainable change requires participation in the democratic process, however constrained that process may be.
The OLF has participated in elections, fielding 163 candidates for both the federal parliament and the regional council in the 2026 elections. Though it did not win a single seat, the party has used the narrow political space available to communicate its objectives and principles to the public.
Professor Merera Gudina, chairman of the Oromo Federalist Congress (OFC), has long championed a “stem and branches” philosophy: the belief that Oromia is the indispensable heart of Ethiopia, and that its people must secure self-rule and shared-rule within a unified, democratic state. His perspective, tempered by over five decades of activism, argues that Ethiopia still lacks the genuine political will required for deep-seated dialogue.
But political will can be built. Institutions can be strengthened. The very fact that opposition parties continue to organize, to contest elections, and to demand accountability is evidence that the dream is alive and evolving.
CULTURAL RESURGENCE: THE REBIRTH OF IDENTITY
A freedom struggle is not only about politics—it is about identity, memory, and the right to be seen.
Irreechaa, the annual festival of the Oromo people, has undergone a remarkable transformation, evolving from a banned event to a recognized element of national cultural heritage and an attraction for international tourism. The 2025 theme, “Irreecha: For National Renewal,” embodies the spirit that sustainable progress must be grounded in cultural harmony and shared values.
Afaan Oromo, once reduced to minority status, is now experiencing revitalization efforts. Though implementation remains uneven, the language of wider communication in Ethiopia and neighboring countries is reclaiming its place. The Gadaa system has gained global recognition as a model of democracy and environmental stewardship.
Cultural revival is not a distraction from the struggle—it is the struggle’s soul. When a people remember who they are, they remember what they deserve.
ECONOMIC DEVELOPMENT: BUILDING THE MATERIAL FOUNDATION
Justice cannot be built on empty stomachs. Economic development in Oromia provides the material foundation upon which political dreams can be realized.
Development projects like the Welmel River Irrigation and the Sof Omer Luxury Lodge, alongside ongoing agricultural modernization and tourism efforts in Bale Zone, are pillars of economic transformation. The new Yabello airport is expected to significantly enhance regional trade, tourism, and investment while strengthening people-to-people ties.
The Oromia regional government has prioritized the expansion of domestic air travel to drive rapid development. Investment projects are expected to create employment opportunities for more than 284,174 individuals across various sectors, particularly in agriculture, manufacturing, and services.
When economic opportunities expand, political participation becomes more meaningful. When communities have a stake in the future, they are more willing to invest in the struggle for that future.
THE CHALLENGES THAT MUST BE OVERCOME
No honest assessment of the Oromo freedom struggle can ignore the profound challenges that remain.
The Oromo Liberation Army (OLA) has been fighting the Ethiopian government for more autonomy since 2018. The conflict has taken a devastating toll. In January 2025, the U.N. reported that 3.2 million children were not in school because of the fighting. Human rights conditions remain precarious, with documented arbitrary deprivations of life and liberty amid clashes in Oromia.
Political space has shrunk. Opposition leaders have been imprisoned. Electoral competition alone is no longer viewed as sufficient to address Oromia’s political challenges. The OLF has raised concerns that “Tsimdoo” (allied) forces have attempted attacks that caused harm to local residents.
These challenges are real. They are painful. They are not insurmountable.
THE PATH FORWARD: WHY THE DREAM CAN GROW BETTER
The Oromo freedom struggle dream can grow better because the conditions for its growth are being laid—not by outside forces, but by the Oromo people themselves.
First, constitutional tools exist. The 1995 Constitution provides a framework for self-determination that, however imperfectly implemented, remains a powerful legal weapon. The gap between promise and reality is not permanent—it can be closed through sustained political pressure and legal advocacy.
Second, political engagement is deepening. The OLF’s return from exile, its participation in elections, and its calls for inclusive dialogue represent a maturation of the struggle. The OLF has urged the government to demonstrate genuine political will in resolving ongoing grievances through justice, truth, and reconciliation.
Third, cultural identity is strengthening. The revival of Irreechaa, the resurgence of Afaan Oromo, and the global recognition of the Gadaa system provide a cultural foundation that no political repression can destroy.
Fourth, economic development is creating new possibilities. As Oromia’s economy grows, so does the capacity of its people to organize, to advocate, and to demand their rights.
Fifth, the international community is watching. Human rights reporting, U.N. documentation, and global advocacy create pressure for accountability. The Oromo cause is no longer invisible.
CONCLUSION: THE LONG ARC
The Oromo freedom struggle has been long. It has been costly. It has been marked by betrayal, violence, and heartbreak. But it has also been marked by resilience, courage, and an unshakeable commitment to justice.
The dream can grow better because it has already survived the worst that history could throw at it. It has endured because it is rooted in truth—not propaganda, not false narratives, but the lived reality of a people who know what they have lost and what they deserve.
As the OLF has stated, the situation in Oromia and across Ethiopia cannot be resolved merely by declaring an election victory. It requires “an inclusive, genuine, and transparent dialogue”. It requires the courage to acknowledge historical realities, the wisdom to respect differing perspectives, and the commitment to uphold the principles of constitutional democracy and the rule of law.
The Oromo freedom struggle dream can grow better because the Oromo people have never stopped dreaming. And dreams, when nurtured by truth, justice, and unwavering commitment, have a way of becoming reality.
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This feature is based on reporting from Addis Standard, The Reporter Ethiopia, OROMIA TODAY, the Associated Press, the Oversight Board, and other sources documenting the Oromo freedom struggle, political developments, and cultural resurgence in Ethiopia.
The Art of Becoming: Why the Oromo Embrace Change
By Daandii Ragabaa
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The old man sat beneath a sycamore tree, his weathered hands wrapped around a wooden staff. Before him, a group of children listened with wide eyes as he spoke. His voice was low, deliberate—the voice of one who had seen seasons turn and generations pass.
“Namni hin jijjiirramne, nama hin jiraanne,” he said. “One who does not change has not truly lived.”
The children frowned. They had been taught that their culture was eternal—that the ways of their ancestors were sacred and unchanging. How could change be a good thing?
The elder smiled. He had been young once, too. He had asked the same question. And now, after eighty harvests, he understood the answer.
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The Gadaa: A System Built on Transformation
For the Oromo people, change is not an interruption of tradition—it is the very engine of tradition. Nowhere is this more evident than in the Gadaa system, the indigenous democratic governance structure that has organised Oromo society for centuries. Recognised by UNESCO as an Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity, the Gadaa system divides life into distinct stages, each carrying specific responsibilities, rituals, and ceremonies.
The Gadaa has eleven grades, each spanning eight years. From childhood to old age, every Oromo moves through these formal steps, each marked by a transition ceremony that defines what is permitted and what is forbidden. A boy becomes a warrior. A warrior becomes an elder. An elder steps aside to make way for the next generation.
This is change written into the very fabric of society.
Professor Gemetchu Megerssa, a scholar of Oromo philosophy, describes seven interconnected phases of social development: Guudina, gabbina, ballina, badhaadha, hoormata, dagaaga, and dagaa-hoora. Each phase represents a transformation—a shedding of the old self and an embrace of the new. The goal is not stability but wholeness: a state where there is no conflict, no poverty, no disease.
To be Oromo is to be in a constant state of becoming.
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The Rites of Passage: Dying to Be Born
The Shinooyyee celebration marks the transition of young Oromo men and women into adulthood. It is not merely a party—it is a ritual death and rebirth. The child that entered the ceremony is gone. An adult emerges, ready to marry, to lead, to contribute.
The Muusoo and Dhokhisuu rituals grant young men permission to marry. These are not casual affairs. They are ordeals—tests of endurance, wisdom, and character. To pass through them is to be transformed.
Even the names of the Gadaa grades tell a story of change. From Gaammee Gurguddaa (childhood) to Kuusaa (youth) to Raaba (adulthood), each stage carries a new identity. The progression is marked by ceremonies like Walargii, a grand gathering where children from various regions convene before advancing. They do not simply grow older—they become something new.
As John Hinnant observed, the Gadaa divides the stages of life into a series of formal steps, each distinguished by a transition ceremony. Every eight years, the Oromo people change. Every eight years, they are reborn.
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The Forces of External Change
But not all change is internal. The Oromo have also been shaped by forces beyond their control—sometimes violent, sometimes subtle.
For centuries, the Oromo faced dominance from neighbouring groups, which eroded aspects of their cultural identity. The Gadaa system itself has been weakened by modernisation and external political pressures. Missionaries brought Christianity, and traders brought Islam. Today, most Oromo practice one of these religions, often alongside elements of their ancestral Waaqeffanna faith. The indigenous belief in Waaqa (God) did not disappear—it adapted.
Even personal names have changed. In the post-1991 political landscape, many Oromo have adopted new naming practices—a reflection of shifting social values and a reclamation of identity. A name is not just a label. It is a story. And stories, like people, evolve.
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The Philosophy of Jijjiiramuu
In Afaan Oromo, the word for change is jijjiiramuu. But it carries a weight that the English translation cannot capture.
Jijjiiramuu is not simply becoming different. It is growth. It is adaptation. It is the recognition that to remain the same is to stagnate, and to stagnate is to die.
Consider the Oromo proverb: “Akkuma bishaan yaa’uu qaba, namni jijjiiramuu qaba.” “Just as water must flow, a person must change.”
The Oromo understand that change is not a betrayal of tradition—it is the fulfilment of tradition. The Gadaa system itself undergoes transformation every 360 years, a cycle known as jaatama, when it rejuvenates itself. The system does not cling to the past. It renews.
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The Continuity Within Change
Yet for all this transformation, something remains constant. The Oromo have not lost their identity. They have carried it forward—reshaped, reimagined, but never abandoned.
The Irreechaa festival, a thanksgiving ritual held at riversides and mountaintops, draws thousands of Oromo today. It is not a relic of the past—it is a living tradition, a symbol of Oromo identity and resilience.
Change, in Oromo culture, is not about discarding the old. It is about building upon it. The child who becomes an adult does not forget childhood—he carries its lessons forward. The elder who steps down from leadership does not disappear—he becomes a guide, a source of wisdom for the next generation.
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A Final Reflection
The old man beneath the sycamore tree finished his story. The children sat in silence, their young minds wrestling with the paradox: how could change and tradition exist together?
He rose slowly, his joints creaking like old wood. He looked at the children—the future of his people—and spoke his final words.
“Jijjiiramuu hin sodaatinaa. Sodaan isa hin jijjiirramne.”
“Do not fear change. Fear only that which refuses to change.”
And with that, he walked away, his staff tapping against the earth—a sound as old as the hills, as steady as the seasons, and as constant as the Oromo spirit itself.
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Because to be Oromo is not to be static. It is to be a river—always flowing, always becoming, always carrying the waters of the past toward the sea of the future.
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
Advocacy for Oromia 