Category Archives: Press Release
Irreechaa: A Billion Hearts, One Festival of Light
Across continents and generations, the Oromo nation celebrates the victory of light over darkness — a festival that unites, sustains, and inspires
(MELBOURNE, AUSTRALIA, 27 September 2026) — This week, more than a billion people around the world are celebrating Irreechaa, the cultural festival celebrating the victory of light over darkness. It’s an important time for the Oromo nation. Across states, regions and cities, it fostered unity, sustainability, and joy, illuminating paths to prosperity and peace.
From the sacred shores of Hora Arsadi in Bishoftu to the riverbanks of the Awash, from the bustling streets of Addis Ababa to the quiet parks of Melbourne, Minneapolis, and London, the sounds of shaggooyyee and the colors of calanchi have once again filled the air. Irreechaa has returned — and with it, a message that transcends borders, generations, and circumstances.
A Festival Rooted in Gratitude
At its heart, Irreechaa is a thanksgiving. It marks the end of the rainy season and the beginning of the harvest, a moment when the Oromo people gather at the water’s edge to offer thanks to Waaqa (God) for the gift of life, fertility, and renewal. The festival is celebrated twice a year: Irreechaa Hiyyessa (the small Irreechaa) and Irreechaa Guddaa (the great Irreechaa), with the latter drawing millions to sacred sites across Oromia and beyond.
But Irreechaa is more than a ritual. It is a philosophy. The triumph of light over darkness is not merely a seasonal metaphor — it is a declaration of hope. It reminds us that even after the longest night, the sun rises. Even after the heaviest rain, the land blooms. Even in the face of adversity, a people united by faith and tradition can find their way forward.
Unity Across Divides
This year’s celebrations carried particular weight. In a world often divided by politics, religion, and geography, Irreechaa stood as a powerful counter-narrative. In cities across Ethiopia and the diaspora, people of all ages, backgrounds, and walks of life gathered side by side. Elders passed down blessings. Mothers sang songs of gratitude. Children danced in celebration. And for a moment, the divisions that so often define modern life seemed to dissolve.
In Melbourne, where the Oromo community has grown into a vibrant and organized presence, Irreechaa was celebrated with the same reverence as it is in the homeland. Families dressed in traditional wandaboo and uffannaa aadaa, exchanged greetings of “Happy Irreechaa!” and shared meals that tasted of home. The event was a testament to the resilience of a people who, even thousands of miles from their ancestral land, refuse to let their culture fade.
Sustainability: A Legacy of Respect for the Earth
Irreechaa is also a reminder of humanity’s relationship with nature. The festival is intrinsically tied to the land, the rivers, and the changing seasons. It teaches that gratitude must be accompanied by stewardship — that the earth is not ours to exploit but to protect.
In an era of climate crisis, this message could not be more urgent. The Oromo people’s reverence for water, land, and life offers a model of sustainability that the world would do well to heed. Irreechaa is not just a celebration of what we have received; it is a commitment to preserve it for those who come after us.
Joy as Resistance
Perhaps most powerfully, Irreechaa is a celebration of joy. In a world that often demands we focus on what divides us, the festival insists on what unites us. It is a reminder that joy is not frivolous — it is revolutionary. To celebrate in the face of hardship is to declare that hardship will not have the final word.
The images emerging from this year’s celebrations tell that story. A grandmother teaching her granddaughter the steps of a traditional dance. A young man helping an elder across the river. A group of friends laughing as they share a meal under the open sky. These are the moments that define Irreechaa. These are the memories that will be passed down.
Illuminating Paths to Prosperity and Peace
As the celebrations draw to a close, the message of Irreechaa lingers. Light has triumphed over darkness. Gratitude has triumphed over despair. Unity has triumphed over division.
For the Oromo nation, Irreechaa is not just a festival — it is a compass. It points toward a future built on peace, prosperity, and mutual respect. It reminds us that the path forward is illuminated not by the brightness of any single star, but by the collective light of a people who refuse to be extinguished.
And as the sun rises on another year, that light shines on — in Bishoftu, in Melbourne, in Minneapolis, and in every corner of the world where the Oromo spirit lives.
Baga Irreechaa Nagayaan Geessan! Baga Bara Haaraa Geessan!
May the light of Irreechaa guide us all toward a year of peace, unity, and abundance.
Irreechaa: A Living Memory Across Generations
“Irreechaa waggaatti naanna’e dhufa; ayyaana kana irratti yaadannoo barayyuu jiraatu dhalootaaf kahanii darbuu waanti fakkaatu hin jiru.”
Irreechaa returns year after year; there is nothing that seems to pass beyond the reach of generations when the memory of this festival lives on and is preserved.
This profound truth captures the essence of Irreechaa — a festival that refuses to be confined to a single moment in time. It is a celebration that travels with its people, crossing rivers, mountains, and oceans, carrying with it the sacred duty of remembrance.
A Festival That Travels With Its People
Irreechaa is more than a thanksgiving ceremony. It is a living testament to the resilience, faith, and unity of the Oromo people. Celebrated at the banks of rivers and lakes, it marks the transition from the rainy season to the harvest, a moment of gratitude to Waaqa (God) for the blessings of life, fertility, and community.
But when Irreechaa travels — as it has with the Oromo diaspora to cities like Melbourne — it does not lose its meaning. Instead, it multiplies. Each celebration in a new land becomes a bridge between the homeland and the heart, between ancestors and descendants, between memory and hope.
Melbourne: A New Chapter in an Ancient Story
The Irreechaa celebrations in Melbourne are a vivid reminder that distance does not diminish devotion. Under the open sky of a foreign land, Oromo families gather in their traditional attire, sing songs of praise, and perform the sacred rituals that have been passed down for centuries. The colors of the calanchi and the rhythm of the shaggooyyee echo the same spirit that fills the banks of the Hora Arsadi and the Awash River.
These gatherings are not merely cultural events; they are acts of survival. They are declarations that no matter where life takes a people, their identity remains rooted in their traditions.
The Power of Shared Memories
“Suuraalee Irreechaa Melbourne kana waliif qooduunis yaadannoo keenyatti lubbuu haa horru!”
Sharing the photos of this Irreechaa in Melbourne breathes life into our memory!
In the age of digital connection, every photograph, every video, every shared post becomes a vessel of memory. When we share these images, we are not simply documenting an event — we are breathing life into our collective story. We are telling the next generation: This is who we are. This is where we come from. This is what we carry with us.
For those who could not attend, these shared moments become a lifeline. For those who were present, they become anchors of joy. For those yet to be born, they become a legacy.
A Call to Keep the Flame Alive
We extend our deepest gratitude to Yadeta Lemu, Kasahun Soboka, Aliye Geleto, Dhabessa Wakjira, and Yadesa Bedhasa for their dedication in capturing and sharing the spirit of Irreechaa Melbourne. Their efforts ensure that the memory of this celebration does not fade with time but grows stronger with each passing year.
Their work reminds us that preserving culture is not a passive act. It requires effort, commitment, and love. It requires people who understand that when we share our traditions, we are not just looking back — we are building forward.
Conclusion: Irreechaa as a Bridge
Irreechaa is a bridge. It spans the distance between generations, between homelands, between hearts. It teaches us that as long as we remember, we are never truly far from home. As long as we celebrate, we are never truly alone.
So let us continue to share. Let us continue to remember. Let us continue to breathe life into our memories — for in doing so, we ensure that Irreechaa will indeed return, year after year, carrying our stories to generations yet to come.
Irreechaa fi yaadannoo keenya — dhalootaaf kahanii darbuu hin danda’u!
Irreechaa and our memory — they cannot pass beyond the reach of generations!
🩸 THREE MOMENTS. ONE PEOPLE. ONE NAME. 🩸
They tried to split us by faith. We chose to die as OROMO.
1️⃣ ARSII — 1966
📍 Hundee Tokkummaa Oromoo
In the mountains of Arsii, the foundation was laid. In 1966, brave Oromo sons — Muslim and Christian together — raised the banner of Oromo unity. The enemy’s plan was simple: use religion to break us. They failed. They dug deep foundations that no conspiracy could shake. From Arsii, the root of Oromo unity was planted in blood and fire. 🔥
“Hundee Tokkummaa Oromoo — Arsii, 1966”
2️⃣ SHINNIGAA — 1980
📍 Tokkummaa Oromoo Shinnigaa
In 1980, at Shinnigaa, they came with the same weapon — religion. “Separate yourselves,” they said. “Die apart.” But our heroes looked at the pit, looked at each other, and said:
“Maqaa amantaan gargar hin baanu.”
We do not divide the name by religion.
They refused to separate. They were massacred together, as one people, under one name. Their blood soaked the same ground. Their sacrifice became our foundation. 🕯️
“Tokkummaa Oromoo Shinnigaa — 1980”
3️⃣ BISHOOFTUU — 2016
📍 Walgaltee Ilmaan Oromiyaa
Thirty-six years later, in Bishooftuu Harsadii, the enemy tried again. Same tactic. Same lie. Separate the Muslim from the Christian. Divide the youth. Break the unity.
They failed again.
The youth of Oromiyaa refused to be divided. They were buried together — in one place, under one identity. They became the pillars of our identity (utubaa eenyummaa). We will never forget them. Not today. Not ever. ✊
“Walgaltee Ilmaan Oromiyaa — Bishooftuu Harsadii, 2016”
⚡ THE MESSAGE ⚡
From Arsii 1966 → Shinnigaa 1980 → Bishooftuu 2016
The enemy’s strategy never changed:
Use religion to divide. Use division to destroy.
Our answer never changed either:
We are OROMO first. We die together. We rise together.
They built pits expecting us to fall apart.
We built monuments of unity from our bones.
🔥 “Seenaa keenya keessatti barayyuu cululuqee jiraata.” 🔥
In our history, it lives forever — shining.
🔁 SHARE if you refuse to be divided.
❤️ LIKE if you honor their sacrifice.
💬 COMMENT the name of your hero.
📌 SAVE this. Teach it. Never forget.
#Oromo #Oromia #Arsii1966 #Shinnigaa1980 #Bishooftuu2016 #MaqaaAmantaanGargarHinBaanu #TokkummaaOromoo #NeverForget #OromoUnity #SeenaaKeenya #Qeerroo #OromoIdentity #OnePeopleOneName
“Those who tried to bury them did not know: a people who refuse to be divided have found something stronger than death.” 🩸✊
The Legacy Written in Blood and Bone: Three Historical Moments When Oromos Refused to Be Divided by Religion
When the executioners thought faith could split them, they chose the same name: Oromo.
In Oromo collective memory, three moments spanning half a century—from 1966 to 2016—are repeatedly told, sung, and etched into stone. They occurred in different eras, different places, with participants from different generations. Yet their inner logic is strikingly identical: whenever external forces tried to tear Oromo unity apart using religious identity, someone always stood up and proved with their life that “Maqaa amantaan gargar hin baanu”—the name is not divided by faith.
From Arsi to Shinnigaa, and then to Bishooftuu, three locations form a blood-red thread, telling the story of how an oppressed people forged “refusal to be divided” into the core of their identity.
Arsi: The Resurrection of a Name
In 1966 Ethiopia, publicly using the word “Oromo” was itself a dangerous provocation. The empire’s narrative machine had erased the name from official discourse, replacing it with derogatory labels. It was precisely in this era that an Islamic scholar named Ahmed Taqi Sheikh Mohammed Rashid made a decision that would change the trajectory of history.
Taqi, later known as “Hundee” (meaning root or foundation), was born into a family of Islamic scholars in Harargee. He studied the Qur’an, Hadith, and Oromo history from childhood. By his early twenties, he was a successful merchant, but what truly defined him was his encounter with General Tadesse Birru, founder of the Macha-Tulama Self-Help Association. After Tadesse was placed under house arrest in Galamsoo, Taqi befriended him and began spreading an idea that was nearly heretical at the time: being Oromo was not a curse but a virtue worth loving.
In 1966, Taqi and Elemo Qiltu—another revolutionary who had returned from Syria—launched an armed struggle in the Guba Koricha mountains. This was the starting point of the modern Oromo national liberation movement. Their organization had no religious threshold, no sectarian conditions. Muslim scholars and Christian warriors fought under the same banner.
On September 6, 1974, Taqi and Elemo were executed in Hirroo. But the resurrection of a name had already become irreversible. The singer Ali Birra, with the help of Abubakar Musa, set Taqi’s memory to music in “Yaa Hundee Bareedaa” (Beautiful Hundee). The song played on radio, was sung at weddings, and hummed at funerals. Taqi’s “root” sank into the deepest layers of Oromo mass consciousness—a consciousness shared by Muslims, Christians, and Waaqeffataa alike.
Shinnigaa: Refusing to Separate at the Edge of the Pit
If 1966 planted the seed, then 1980 was its most tragic flowering.
On April 15, 1980, eleven top leaders of the Oromo Liberation Front were ambushed by Somali militia in Shinnigaa (located in the Ogaden region). This was not a chance encounter—they were captured alive. The militia dug a large pit, then did what they thought was the most lethal thing: they classified the prisoners by religion.
“You see,” a commander reportedly told the bound prisoners, “you fought together. But you will die separately. Let each one pray to his own god before falling into the pit.”
The executioners expected fear. They expected a scramble for last rites. They expected a tiny fracture that would prove the Oromo cause was nothing but a lie.
The answer they received came from Jar Magarsa Bari, then chairman of the OLF. He did not ask for a priest, did not ask for a Sheikh. He turned to his comrades and spoke the words that would later be repeated countless times:
“Maqaa amantaan gargar hin baanu. We do not divide the name by religion. Dig the pit wider, or throw us in together. We are Oromo first.”
Eleven men—Chairman Barisoo Wabee, Vice Chairman Gadaa Gamada, Abbaa Shikii, Dori Bari, Farmata, Fafam Doyo, Ilana Kachale, Dhadhacho Boruu, Dhadhacho Murata, Mari Galaan—arms bound together, stepped forward. According to Oromo oral tradition, Gadaa Gamada turned to the executioners and smiled: “You want to see us pray? Watch this.”
This day was written into history. Not as a massacre, but as an oath.
Bishooftuu: Another Generation’s Choice
Thirty-six years later, the same scene played out with almost identical logic.
2016, Bishooftuu-Harsadi. A new wave of Oromo protests was sweeping across the region, triggered by the so-called “Addis Ababa and Surrounding Oromia Master Plan”—a plan widely seen as an attempt to annex Oromo land. Young activists known as “Qeerroo” confronted security forces in city streets and rural roads.
In Bishooftuu, a group of Oromo youth were surrounded. According to circulated accounts, security forces once again tried to exploit religious identity—separating Muslims from Christians, persuading some to deny their Oromo identity in exchange for their lives. The result was refusal once again.
They died together, buried in the same place. Their names were repeatedly invoked by Oromo social media, poetry, and song. They became “utubaa eenyummaa”—pillars of identity.
Oromo activists framed this event as “dying for Oromo identity, refusing to be divided by religion.” The words spoken at Shinnigaa thirty-six years earlier were re-spoken with bodies by a new generation at Bishooftuu.
Why This Matters
These three events—Arsi, Shinnigaa, Bishooftuu—form a clear pattern. Religion is indeed a real line of difference within Oromo society. Arsi Oromos are predominantly Muslim, partly because in the nineteenth century they chose Islam as a cultural fortress against Amhara Orthodox colonial conquest. The Orthodox Church’s role in Oromo territories was tightly bound to conquest: priests arrived alongside Menelik’s generals, “blessed” massacres, and then received land and serfs. Thus religious difference in Oromo society is not a small matter—it carries the full weight of colonial violence history.
Precisely because of this, external forces repeatedly tried to exploit this fracture. The Somali militia of 1980 tried. The security forces of 2016 tried. Each time, they lost.
But the reason they lost is not that religious differences didn’t exist. The reason is that Oromo nationalism, in its most decisive figures, developed a priority that transcends religion: We are Oromo first. This is not a denial of faith but an insistence on order. When the core logic of oppression is the denial of your very existence, any internal division that makes that oppression more effective is betrayal.
The eleven at Shinnigaa did not become “Muslim martyrs” and “Christian martyrs.” They became one thing: Oromo martyrs. The youth of Bishooftuu likewise.
“Seenaa keenya keessatti barayyuu cululuqee jiraata”
Those who wanted to bury them failed to understand one fundamental thing: a people who refuse to be divided have found something stronger than death. The pit at Shinnigaa did not end Oromo unity—it became a monument to unity. The repetition at Bishooftuu did not prove that history repeats—it proved that memory endures.
From the moment Taqi and Elemo raised weapons in 1966, to the afternoon of 1980 when eleven men walked arm-in-arm to the edge of the pit, to the streets of Bishooftuu in 2016, what runs through it all is not an abstract slogan but a concrete, testable promise: When others try to kill you using the differences within you, you choose to define yourself by what you share.
This choice has been remembered. Has been sung. Has been re-lived with life after life by generation after generation.
“Seenaa keenya keessatti barayyuu cululuqee jiraata”—in our history, it lives forever, shining.
Oromia Restructures: Six New Administrative Clusters and Their Administrators
Ethiopia’s largest federal state moves to a clustered governance model, appointing six vice presidents to oversee regional zones
(ONA, Finfinne — Oromia)– Ethiopia’s largest and most populous federal state, is undergoing a significant administrative restructuring. Under a newly approved arrangement, the state will be organized into six administrative “clusters,” each led by a vice president responsible for coordinating the zones within their region.
The plan was approved during the first session of the Oromia Regional Council (Caffee Oromia) held in Adama. Governor Shimelis Abdisa was successfully reelected, and he subsequently nominated six vice presidents, all of whom were confirmed by the council.
The Six Clusters and Their Administrators
According to the approved plan, Oromia will be divided into the following six administrative regions:
1. East Oromia (2 Zones) — Administrator Ato Abdurahman Abdela
Oversees West Hararghe and East Hararghe. These zones are located in eastern Oromia, bordering the Somali Region and the Harari region.
2. Southeast Oromia (4 Zones) — Administrator Ato Ahmed Idris
Oversees Arsi, Bale, West Arsi, and East Bale. This cluster spans the Rift Valley area and includes important ecological resources such as Bale Mountains National Park.
3. South Oromia (4 Zones) — Administrator Ato Ahmed Haji
Oversees Guji, West Guji, Borena, and East Borena. These areas border Kenya and are primarily characterized by pastoralism and cross-border trade.
4. West Oromia (4 Zones) — Administrator Ato Melaku Melaku
Oversees East Wollega, West Wollega, Kellem Wollega, and Horro Guduru Wollega. This region is one of Ethiopia’s important coffee-producing areas.
5. Southwest Oromia (3 Zones) — Administrator Dr. Reshad Kemal
Oversees Iluababor, Buno Bedele, and Jimma. Jimma is known as Ethiopia’s coffee capital, and the region is rich in agricultural and forestry resources.
6. Central Oromia (4 Zones) — Administrator Dr. Mengistu Bekele
Oversees East Shewa, North Shewa, Southwest Shewa, and West Shewa. This cluster surrounds the capital, Addis Ababa, and includes important cities such as Adama.
Background and Controversy
This administrative restructuring comes at a time of profound change in Ethiopia’s political landscape. Reports suggest that the ruling Prosperity Party is considering a broader “clusterization” reform of the federal system nationwide, and Oromia’s six-cluster plan may be part of that larger blueprint.
Supporters argue that dividing a vast administrative region into smaller management units can bring government closer to the people, improve administrative efficiency, and enhance public service delivery. Oromia covers an area of 353,600 square kilometers with a population of over 27 million, and single-tier management indeed faces enormous challenges.
However, criticism is equally strong. Some analysts suggest the restructuring may carry political motives — weakening Oromia’s cohesion and negotiating power as a single political entity by dividing it. Some commentators have described it as “a systematic weakening of Oromo political power.”
Human rights observers also worry that pushing through such a major administrative reform while security conditions in parts of Oromia remain unstable could exacerbate tensions at the local level.
What Comes Next
With the six vice presidents now in place, they are expected to begin forming coordination bodies for each cluster. However, the specific division of powers, financial arrangements, and relationships with existing zonal administrative units remain to be clarified.
In his address to the council, Governor Shimelis stated that the new term would “consolidate development gains and advance reforms,” but did not elaborate on the controversial aspects of the administrative reorganization.
For Oromia — a central player in Ethiopia’s political landscape — this quiet administrative revolution may have implications far beyond a single list of appointments.
The Poisoned Feast: The Unbroken Spirit of Jaal Daawud Ibsaa
A Feature Article on Sacrifice, Betrayal, and the Silence That Defeated Torture
—
In the annals of the Oromo national struggle, certain stories refuse to fade. They are passed down not through official archives but through whispered testimonies, through the memories of those who survived, and through the written records of security officials who once sought to erase them. One such story belongs to Jaal Daawud Ibsaa, a name that resonates in the Horro Guduruu heartland and beyond—a man whose journey from student activist to underground fighter to silent prisoner embodies the most harrowing dimensions of resistance.
This account draws from a security report authored by Nugusee Fantaa, head of the Wollega administrative security, and Tasfaayee W/Sillasee, head of Information and National Security, as documented by journalist Abbaa Duulaa Gammada. The journalist himself was granted unusual access, recalling that when he sought to research this history, the security archives of both the Derg’s peace and wartime offices were opened to him. “Abbaa Duulaa told me,” the journalist recounts, “‘You are the only one who has ever asked me to research this story.'”
Roots of Resistance
Jaal Daawud Ibsaa was born in Horro Guduruu, in the western highlands of Oromia. Like many young Oromos of his generation, he pursued education with determination, attending Wingate—the same institution that shaped Mallas Zeenaawii, a student two years his senior. Daawud then entered Kilo 4 University, where he studied statistics. But his formal name tells only part of the story: while the struggle knew him as Daawud, his family called him Firew—a detail preserved in the security records that now serve as historical testimony.
His political consciousness crystallized during the student movements of the early Derg years. For two years, he was imprisoned for his involvement in student activism. Upon his release, he did not retreat. Instead, he joined the underground armed struggle of the ONLF—the Oromo National Liberation Front—immersing himself in a movement that would define the rest of his short life.
The Seventeen Who Crossed the Border
In 1968, when the ONLF elected its central committee of twenty-eight members, Daawud was among those chosen. Three years later, in 1971, the Front made a strategic decision to expand its armed operations into western Ethiopia. Jaal Daawud and Abbaa Caalaa Lataa were appointed to lead and coordinate the western struggle. In total, seventeen fighters—most from the Wallagga and Beegii regions—crossed the Sudanese border to begin operations.
The Derg regime took notice. The suppression of this western ONLF initiative became a priority, with officials including Gidaamii district chief Hiikaa Masaadii and Wollega provincial administrator Nugusee Fantaa devising plans to crush the movement.
Among the seventeen fighters was Obboleessi Zakkaariyaas Shoroo, a native of the region. The security apparatus saw in him a tool for betrayal. Zakkaariyaas was summoned and given his orders: “Feed your brother and his comrades. We will supply you with poison to add to the food. If you refuse, you and your family will be killed, your property confiscated, your land taken, your livestock seized.”
Zakkaariyaas recoiled. “How can I kill my own brother?”
The response was cold and absolute: “If you can, separate your brother so he does not eat. If you cannot—then let them die together.” The security report notes that Zakkaariyaas, under duress, eventually agreed.
The Feast
The fighters, dressed in peasant clothing to blend into the countryside, had gathered in the area. Zakkaariyaas was watched to ensure he did not falter. The poison, sent from Finfinnee through Nugusee Fantaa to Hiikaa Masaadii, was passed to Zakkaariyaas.
On the evening of the planned betrayal, Zakkaariyaas slaughtered a sheep and prepared a feast, claiming to honor his brother and comrades. The seventeen ONLF fighters had split into two groups; Abbaa Caalaa was moving with nine men in another direction, and thus was not present at the meal. But Daawud and the remaining fighters accepted Zakkaariyaas’s invitation and gathered at his home that evening.
Zakkaariyaas could not bring himself to separate his brother. “You will eat later,” he urged. But Daawud refused and joined the meal. As his brother and comrades ate the poisoned food, Zakkaariyaas stood by, trembling, watching.
Daawud ate only a little. When he finished, he rose and went to the door to relieve the comrade who had been standing guard. The others continued eating. Then the convulsions began. Their bodies burned as if on fire. Screams filled the night as one by one they collapsed. Zakkaariyaas clutched his brother’s corpse to his chest.
Daawud had eaten less, but the poison did not spare him. Standing guard outside, he drank large quantities of water, then began convulsing, vomiting blood and bile. The pain in his stomach was unbearable. Yet he did not fall where he stood—he staggered back inside and collapsed among his fallen comrades in Zakkaariyaas’s compound.
Survival and Silence
The fighters in peasant disguise, waiting for the signal, arrived at Zakkaariyaas’s house as planned. They found seven comrades dead—and Daawud, gravely ill but still breathing.
He was rushed toward Dambidoolloo, then to Naqamte, as the ONLF sought both to extract intelligence and to save his life. But the Derg’s security apparatus had other plans. At Naqamte, once he had partially recovered, he was transferred to prison and the beatings began.
The Wollega security report is explicit: no intelligence was ever extracted from Jaal Daawud. Unable to break him through interrogation, they transferred him to Ma’ikelawwii Prison in Finfinnee. There, he was placed in a container filled with benzene and dirty water as interrogation intensified. The report details repeated searches and various forms of torture applied to him.
Daawud chose death over betrayal. Not a single word of intelligence escaped his lips. He endured until the end, and then he passed—unbroken, unbroken in spirit, unbroken in loyalty to the cause he had embraced as a student and carried to his final breath.
The Meaning of Nyaata Summaa’ee
The story of Daawud Ibsaa and the poisoned feast is more than a historical account of betrayal and heroism. It is a meditation on the impossible choices that colonial and authoritarian regimes force upon communities. Zakkaariyaas was not a willing traitor; he was a man crushed between the love of his brother and the threat to his family, his land, his very existence. The regime understood that the most effective weapons are not always guns—sometimes they are the bonds of kinship turned into instruments of destruction.
And yet, in the figure of Daawud Ibsaa, the story offers something else: the possibility of a fidelity that cannot be purchased, tortured, or poisoned away. He ate the food, drank the water, endured the benzene, and carried his secrets to the grave.
The security report that documents these events was never meant to celebrate him. It was meant to record the success of a suppression campaign. But in recording the methods of his torturers, it inadvertently preserved the evidence of his resistance. The archive of oppression became, in the end, a monument to the oppressed.
—
This article is based on the security report authored by Nugusee Fantaa and Tasfaayee W/Sillasee, as documented by journalist.
Irreechaa: Its Significance in the Context of Other Religions
“Irreechaa is a Day of Thanksgiving!” — Why This Concept Embraces All Faiths
A study by Dr. Yoseph Mulugeta Baba (2024) examines the Irreechaa festival within the context of other religions and finds a central concept that cannot be logically wrong and carries a positive meaning. That concept is simply this: “Irreechaa is a Day of Thanksgiving.”
According to the paper, this concept carries the following meaning:
“Irreechaa is a day of thanksgiving where the gifts of the Creator are returned to the Creator in gratitude. Every individual who participates in the Irreechaa festival holds fresh green grass in both hands and gives thanks to their Creator. Fresh green grass is a symbol of peace and prosperity. Above all, they gather together to thank their great and holy Creator who saved them from the winter’s ice, heavy winds, floods, and storms. They also pray to their God to bless the harvest and the crops. Therefore, the Irreechaa festival is a tribute given to God who brought them from darkness to light.”
“Whom Are We Thanking?” — The Oromo Worldview’s Answer
A related question arises: “Whom are we thanking?” To answer this question correctly and unambiguously, we must clearly set out what the indigenous Oromo ontology (Oromo Ontology) teaches about the Creator, or Waaqa.
The indigenous Oromo understanding defines Waaqa with care, and its definition is as follows:
“Waaqa is the Creator of all things. Waaqa is omniscient, omnipresent, eternal, absolute, and infinite. Waaqa is absolutely one.”
Relationship with Christianity and Islam
Within this definition, there is no concept that directly contradicts the teachings of either Christianity or Islam regarding the Creator. Why?
The famous Catholic philosopher and theologian St. Thomas Aquinas, in his magnificent work Summa Theologica, correctly observes:
“That there exists one truth which every human being calls ‘God’ — the beginning and end of all creatures — the human creature can comprehend in many ways!”
This is why the Bible, when translated into different languages, does not give a new name to the Creator. A name already known in the indigenous religion and capable of correctly expressing the attributes of the Creator listed above is directly adopted. For example: Magano, Waa, Yeri, Waaqayo, Egziabher, Jowok, and so on.
Where Does the Difference Lie?
Therefore, the difference lies not in the attributes of God, but in the canon, tradition, and rules that each religion follows and teaches. The source of this difference may be historical or related to our use of language in theological interpretation.
As St. Thomas Aquinas says:
“Regarding God, what we can comprehend is not what He is, but what He is not, and what He resembles in comparison with other creatures.”
This is called the problem of religious language. God is above all creatures. Therefore, our human thought must adjust its limited, image-bound, and imperfect language about God so that it does not distort the identity of God — which has no expression, which cannot be fully known, which is invisible and intangible. The words we use will always fall short of expressing the mystery of God!
“Guracha” — The Name of Waaqa and Its Meaning
For example, in the Oromo indigenous religion, the word Waaqa, whether written or spoken, is accompanied by the adjective “Guracha.” Its literal translation is “black,” and in Oromo ontology, blackness is not only a symbol of supremacy but also expresses the originality of Waaqa. Blackness is a concept that expresses that the essence of Waaqa is an absolutely perfect mystery that cannot be reached by the human mind.
Irreechaa and the Universal Knowledge of the Creator
Therefore, when we celebrate the Irreechaa festival, we do so in a manner that takes into account the attributes of God. Since such knowledge of the Creator is universal, a follower of any religion can celebrate it with joy and in a true spirit, giving it a positive meaning.
The American Example: Thanksgiving Day
Above all, we must avoid actions that undermine the unity of a people under the guise of religion without properly understanding religious studies.
America is a country with a population of 340 million and five of the world’s major religions. When the people celebrate “Thanksgiving Day” every year, they have never once entered into a hair-splitting question or argument about “Whom are they thanking?”
The Human Being Is a Spiritual Creature
In the world in general, and in Ethiopia in particular, let us take the following ontological characteristics of human existence as an example to show that there is confusion regarding religious studies.
The human being is a spiritual being. Two faculties are given to human beings alone among all creatures, and other creatures intrinsically do not possess them at all: intellect and free will.
The human race knows and chooses to follow natural law because by nature it has the capacity to know universal truth and morality. For example, a Christian or a Muslim is able to know the natural law “Do not steal!” not because the commandment is written in the Bible or the Holy Quran, or because it exists in their faith’s teachings, but because the human being by nature and calling has the capacity and power to know this natural law.
Cultural Values Are Products of the Intellect
Cultural values are products of the human intellect. The intellect was created by God. God created the intellect for the primary purpose that we might investigate and understand the world. It must be emphasized that the cultural values that human beings have established since ancient times have their source in this faculty and tool of thought — the intellect — granted by the Creator. In human history, every society was able to establish its own culture and indigenous religion because of the intellect and free will given by God.
Human Limitation and the Need for Careful Interpretation
However, because the human being is limited by space and time, their knowledge is limited. The human intellect cannot reach absolute knowledge. The human being is a historical being. We are all products of history and geography!
Therefore, no society in human history has ever possessed absolutely perfect and error-free cultural values. This is why cultural values or indigenous religions must receive a careful interpretation (hermeneutics) that gives correct meaning within the context of time and place.
This article is based on the study by Dr. Yoseph Mulugeta Baba (2024).
Irreechaa: Core Values
Core Values at a Glance: At its heart, Irreechaa is built on gratitude to Waaqa (God), which flows into four enduring pillars: peace, forgiveness and reconciliation, unity and inclusivity, and connection with nature.
Irreechaa is more than a harvest celebration in Oromo culture — it is a complete moral and spiritual framework. Here is a closer look at its core values.
🙏 Gratitude and Thanksgiving
This is the foundation of Irreechaa. The Oromo people gather to thank Waaqa (the Creator) for the blessings of the past year — life, peace, rain, harvest, health, family, and the fertility of livestock. It is not merely a celebration but a humble recognition that all life depends on the Creator’s generosity. Gratitude, in this sense, is not just spoken; it is felt and lived.
🤝 Forgiveness, Reconciliation, and Peace
Irreechaa carries a transformative power. Before taking part in the ceremony, participants are expected to let go of grudges, release anger, and seek reconciliation with others. Traditional belief holds that prayers offered with a pure and forgiving heart are the ones through which true peace can descend. Former Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed has repeatedly described Irreechaa as an occasion for reconciliation, forgiveness, and unity.
🕊️ Unity and Inclusivity
Irreechaa is radically inclusive. People of all ages, genders, religions, political views, and ethnic backgrounds are welcome to join. Scholars note that it unites not only Oromo people but also transcends language and territorial boundaries, bringing diverse communities together under the principles of peace, mutual respect, and coexistence. Participants dressed in white are themselves a symbol of that peace.
🌿 Connection with Nature
Irreechaa expresses a deep bond between humanity and the natural world. Ceremonies are held along riverbanks and lakeshores, where participants carry fresh green grass and flowers, dip them in water, and sprinkle the water as a blessing of renewal, hope, and purification. This ritual is not only an act of gratitude toward nature but also reflects the Oromo ethical principle of Safuu — the understanding that human beings are stewards of the earth, responsible for protecting water, soil, and the balance of life.
Together, these values form the spiritual core of Irreechaa, making it far more than a festival. It is a living heritage that continues to shape Oromo identity, moral life, and community bonds across generations.
Irreechaa: A Heritage That Endures, Evolves, and Lives
A festival of gratitude becomes a call to responsibility for nature and future generations
Every year, millions of Oromo people gather along the banks of rivers and lakes, dressed in white, carrying fresh green grass and yellow daisies. They come to give thanks. They come to pray. They come to remember.
But according to a new reflection by Worku Burayu (PhD), Irreechaa is far more than a colorful annual gathering. It is a living heritage — one that endures, evolves, and lives.
“Irreechaa should not be reduced to an annual article, a speech, a public gathering, or a cultural display,” Burayu writes. “It is a living heritage whose meaning continues to guide, teach, and connect generations.”
The article, titled “Irreechaa: A Heritage That Endures, Evolves, and Lives,” continues a reflection begun in 2025 with “Irreechaa: From Nature to Nation, Core Values of Oromo Culture.” This year’s piece, written after an invitation from the Irreechaa Event Ad Hoc Committee of the Atlanta Metropolitan Area, takes a different perspective — examining Irreechaa not just as a celebration, but as a relationship between memory and responsibility.
More Than a Ceremony
Irreechaa is widely known as the Oromo thanksgiving festival, celebrated at the end of the rainy season near rivers and lakes. Participants give thanks to Waaqaa (God) for life, health, peace, rain, harvest, family, and community. They sing, dance, and sprinkle water as a blessing of renewal.
Scholars have long recognized Irreechaa as an expression of Oromo identity and unity. UNESCO describes it as closely associated with the Gadaa system, the indigenous democratic sociopolitical system of the Oromo people.
But Burayu argues that its significance cannot be fully understood by viewing it only as a ritual performed at a particular time of year. Irreechaa is part of a broader Oromo worldview in which human beings exist within relationships involving Waaqaa, nature, community, ancestors, and future generations.
“The natural environment is not simply a backdrop for cultural practice,” he writes. “Soil, water, air, forests, grass, flowers, animals, and agricultural landscapes are part of the living world through which life is sustained and gratitude is expressed.”
Gratitude Must Become Responsibility
At the heart of Irreechaa is gratitude. But Burayu asks a challenging question: If water, forests, soil, grass, and flowers are gifts of Waaqaa, how should we treat them?
“The answer cannot be limited to words of thanksgiving,” he writes. “Genuine gratitude creates responsibility.”
If water is a gift, it must be protected. Lakes, rivers, springs, and wetlands associated with Irreechaa are not merely ceremonial locations — they are living ecosystems. Respect for water means preventing pollution, protecting riverbanks, safeguarding springs, and managing waste responsibly.
If forests are a gift, they must be conserved and renewed. Natural materials used during ceremonies should be gathered without unnecessary destruction of living trees. Irreechaa can become an opportunity for tree planting and forest restoration.
If soil is a gift, its fertility must be maintained. “We cannot celebrate the fruits of the land while destroying the soil that must produce those fruits in the future,” Burayu warns.
If grass and flowers are used in celebration, they should be gathered in ways that allow natural regeneration. Plants should not be unnecessarily uprooted when only their flowers or leaves are needed.
“The gift of nature does not belong to human beings alone,” Burayu writes. “It sustains an entire community of life.”
Water as a Sacred Responsibility
The relationship between Irreechaa and water is particularly significant. Many celebrations take place beside rivers, lakes, and springs. The symbolism of water, Burayu argues, should never be separated from its ecological reality.
“When people approach water during Irreechaa, touch it, sprinkle it, or gather beside it in prayer, they encounter one of the fundamental conditions of life,” he writes.
The act of approaching water should awaken responsibility. “If we pray beside a river, we should not pollute it. If we regard water as a blessing, we should not waste it carelessly. If we gather around a spring, we should protect the spring and its surrounding vegetation.”
His message is simple: “We should not pollute what we have come to honor.”
Safuu: An Indigenous Ethic of Restraint
Burayu grounds these responsibilities in Safuu, the Oromo concept of appropriate conduct and responsible relationships. Safuu asks a deeper question than whether a person is technically able to do something. It asks whether an action is appropriate, responsible, and respectful.
“A person may be physically able to cut a tree, but that does not mean the tree should be cut unnecessarily,” Burayu explains.
He points to the Odaa tree as a powerful cultural example. Odaa trees have long held deep cultural, social, and spiritual significance in Oromo society. Traditionally, those associated with important communal spaces were treated with particular respect and were not to be cut at will.
“The question is not simply ‘Can I take it?’ but ‘Should I take it, and what responsibility follows from taking it?'” Burayu writes.
This principle, he argues, extends to rivers, forests, grasslands, and wetlands. “The ability to use nature does not create an unlimited right to consume it. Safuu calls for restraint, responsibility, and respect for the conditions that make life possible.”
The Challenge of Modern Celebration
Contemporary Irreechaa celebrations can involve very large gatherings. Their growth creates opportunities for cultural visibility and community connection, but it also creates environmental responsibilities.
Large gatherings require transportation, food, water, sanitation, energy, and waste management. They can place pressure on grasslands, riverbanks, and trees.
“The success of an Irreechaa gathering should not be measured solely by attendance, visibility, or cultural performance,” Burayu writes. “It should also be measured by what remains after the gathering.”
A celebration that leaves a river polluted, vegetation damaged, and the landscape covered in waste contradicts the relationship with nature that Irreechaa seeks to express. By contrast, a celebration that leaves the environment protected, clean, and renewed demonstrates that gratitude has been translated into responsibility.
From Survival to Renewal
Irreechaa has survived because generations before us carried it through difficult circumstances. But Burayu argues that survival alone is not enough.
“A tradition can survive as a ceremony while losing its deeper values,” he warns. “It can become something repeated annually without being understood, or a cultural performance detached from everyday conduct.”
For Irreechaa to remain a living heritage, it must continually be renewed through learning. Renewal means documenting cultural knowledge before it disappears, creating opportunities for elders to share knowledge with younger generations, and connecting traditional ecological knowledge with contemporary scientific understanding.
“Renewal does not require abandoning tradition,” Burayu writes. “It requires understanding tradition deeply enough to distinguish enduring principles from the particular historical forms through which those principles have been expressed.”
Cultural Confidence Without Self-Denigration
The continuity of cultural heritage also depends on how a people understands itself. Burayu notes that Oromo history, culture, and identity have often been interpreted through external frameworks — political, religious, and colonial.
“Before rejecting what is ours, we have a responsibility to understand it,” he writes. “Before repeating judgments made about our culture, we have a responsibility to study the culture itself.”
This is not an argument for romanticizing the past. Cultural confidence does not require believing that everything inherited is perfect. A living culture must be capable of self-examination.
“There is an important difference between critical reflection and cultural self-denigration,” Burayu explains. “Critical reflection seeks to understand, improve, and strengthen. Self-denigration simply reproduces the judgment of others.”
Intergenerational Responsibility
Every generation inherits things it did not create — language, stories, values, songs, landscapes, rivers, forests, and soils. Burayu argues that we therefore have a responsibility to think of ourselves not merely as owners, but as custodians.
“A river that exists today will be needed by children who have not yet been born,” he writes. “A forest standing today may provide shade, water protection, biodiversity, and livelihoods for generations we will never meet. Soil fertility lost today may take decades to restore.”
Irreechaa makes this relationship between generations visible. “Our ancestors carried it. We received it. Our children will inherit whatever we choose to preserve, change, or neglect.”
Irreechaa in the Diaspora
For Oromo communities living outside Oromia — including in the United States, Europe, Australia, and Asia — Irreechaa carries additional significance. In the diaspora, cultural continuity requires deliberate and sustained transmission because younger generations may grow up in environments where Afaan Oromo, Oromo customs, and traditional practices are not part of everyday life.
“In this context, Irreechaa can serve as an intergenerational bridge,” Burayu writes. “That bridge, however, must carry knowledge as well as ceremony.”
Community gatherings can become spaces for learning as much as celebration. Elders can transmit knowledge, younger people can ask questions, and cultural organizations can create educational programs connecting history, language, ecology, ethics, and contemporary life.
From Ceremony to Everyday Life
The deepest measure of Irreechaa, Burayu argues, is what happens after the celebration.
“If a person gathers beside a river in thanksgiving and subsequently becomes more conscious of protecting water, the ceremony has produced an enduring value,” he writes. “If a young person learns about the significance of grass and flowers and becomes more responsible in the use of natural resources, the tradition has been transmitted meaningfully.”
A cultural tradition is truly alive when its principles enter everyday behavior. “Irreechaa should therefore not be understood merely as something people attend. It is something whose values can be lived.”
It Endures. It Evolves. It Lives.
Burayu concludes with a powerful summary of his argument.
“Irreechaa endures because it has roots in the historical and cultural experience of the Oromo people. Irreechaa evolves because every generation encounters different circumstances. Irreechaa lives when its underlying values remain meaningful within those changing circumstances.”
Its living character can be seen when gratitude becomes responsibility, identity becomes confidence, celebration becomes stewardship, tradition becomes learning, and cultural memory becomes preparation for the future.
“The question is not simply whether Irreechaa will survive,” Burayu writes. “The deeper question is whether we will understand it well enough to help it live.”
Irreechaa is not merely a heritage of the past. It is a responsibility of the present and a promise to the future.
It endures. It evolves. It lives.
Irreechaa in Edmonton: How One Diaspora Community Turned a Sacred Tradition into a Recognized Civic Celebration
By Daandii Ragabaa
EDMONTON, Alberta — When the Oromo community of Edmonton gathered for Irreechaa Malkaa this year, they were not simply marking a religious holiday. They were making a statement — to themselves, to their children, and to the wider Canadian society — that Oromo culture, identity, and heritage deserve to be seen, respected, and celebrated at the highest levels of public life.
The celebration, held a week ago, was honored with an official Certificate of Recognition from the Government of Alberta, presented by representatives of the city and the provincial and federal governments who stood alongside the Oromo community in celebration. The recognition was not a casual gesture. As the community noted, this acknowledgment did not come easily or by accident. It was the result of years of persistent advocacy and grassroots organizing.
A Celebration That Speaks for Itself
The symbolism of Irreechaa is powerful, and the Edmonton community was intentional about ensuring it was understood. Irreechaa is not simply a “Thanksgiving” festival. It is rooted in Waaqeffannaa, the traditional Oromo belief in one God, and in the Gadaa system — the ancient democratic governance structure that UNESCO has recognized as Intangible Cultural Heritage.
For Oromos in the diaspora, Irreechaa is a spiritual act of gratitude to Waaqa for the blessings of the past year, a moment of reconciliation, and a prayer for peace in the year ahead. It is also a public declaration of identity — a refusal to be invisible.
As the community statement put it, the presence of elected officials and the presentation of the certificate of recognition was not simply an act of kindness by those in power. It was the product of sustained effort and organized advocacy by OCANA (the Oromo Community Association of Northern Alberta) and the broader Oromo community of the region.
The Leadership Behind the Recognition
The statement is clear that this achievement belongs to the community’s leadership and its collective will. “For our culture to flourish, for Oromos to be honored, and for Oromia to be viewed as a nation, the leadership of the Oromo Community Association of Northern Alberta played a lion’s share — and this is where it came from.”
That acknowledgment matters. In diaspora communities, recognition rarely arrives on its own. It must be cultivated — through relationship-building with local governments, through participation in multicultural events, through education, and through the persistence of community organizations.
A Model for Others
The Edmonton community also highlighted a striking achievement: at God-Hambaalee Edmonton, one of the city’s major multicultural festivals featuring over 90 countries, Oromia participated as a nation in its own right — complete with its own displays and presentations, which finished among the top ranks of participants.
For a community whose homeland has often been marginalized, denied recognition, and subjected to systemic oppression, this is no small thing. It is a reversal of the invisibility that has too often been imposed on Oromo people.
The statement also noted that many multicultural associations exist across Canada, but none has demonstrated the same strength, diplomatic skill, and ability to articulate the Oromo experience as this one. The community did not celebrate in isolation — it celebrated in public, with recognition, and with dignity.
Gratitude and Looking Forward
The message closes with gratitude — to the Oromo community of the region, to OCANA’s leadership, and to everyone who contributed to making Irreechaa 2026 a success. It also issues a challenge to other Oromo communities: learn from this example. The community intends to build on this momentum, and future plans are already taking shape.
To those who are honoring their country and culture, the community offers its blessing: Irreecha milkii — may your Irreechaa be fruitful and blessed.
Why This Matters
Irreechaa in Edmonton is not just a local story. It is a template for how diaspora communities can transform sacred traditions into civic recognition — without compromising the spiritual essence of the festival. It shows that cultural preservation and public engagement are not mutually exclusive. And it demonstrates that when a community organizes, advocates, and speaks with one voice, governments listen.
For Oromos across Australia, North America, Europe, and beyond, the Edmonton example offers both inspiration and a challenge: celebrate proudly, organize strategically, and ensure that Irreechaa is not only a memory carried from home, but a living tradition recognized by the nations in which it is celebrated.
Baga Irreecha milkiin geessan!
#Irreecha_Edmonton #Irreechaa #Oromo #Oromia #OCANA #Edmonton #Alberta #Diaspora #CulturalHeritage #Waaqeffannaa #Oromummaa
