u/Able_Figure_513

Resource:

Exploring Gumaa as an indispensable psycho-social method of conflict resolution and justice administration

History of Laggasaa Wagii:
Laggee Wagii

I’ve already stated that I don’t support armed struggle as a political method, so please save your comments.

I might make my next few qabsoo posts about their songs because they don’t hide behind poetic fluff that can mean ten different things. I find everything about this song funny 🤣

As I was translating this, I kept coming back to a point that the Prosperity Party and prominent figures like the legendary OLF founder Leenco Lataa have highlighted, reaffirming the reality that guns do not solve political problems. For instance, the lyrics talk about destroying slavery and bringing about freedom (you can find indexed research papers on this topic through the Journal of Oromo Studies). The current government falls and you replace it, but what do you replace it with? For the last fifty-ish years, the movement has not developed experience with democratic governance within its structure.

Research by Dr. Dachasa found that the Gadaa system kept a boundary where power was temporarily transferred to military commanders (Abbaa Duulaa) to handle wars, but they had to hand that power back to civilian democratic leaders (Abbaa Gadaa) once the fighting stopped. However, a commander in Western Oromia famously refused to hand power back, leading to the stratification of the Gadaa system in that region into kings (Mootii) and the destruction of its own democratic institutions from within. Even though they speak the language of Gadaa democracy, the WBO has walked into that trap because it is prioritising military control over preparing to hand power back to the people.

The name of the comrade behind this song is Jaal Hundaa’ol Firoomsaa, which roughly translates to “comrade who builds friendships with everyone.” It is a hilarious contrast to most rebel names, which are usually more aggressive names like “the comrade who confuses enemies.” Honestly, he seems like a funny dude who should just chill and debate instead of fighting.

Why do these armed groups, and Ethiopians in general, always draw an ❌ over opposition posters or turn people’s photos upside down? What is with that?

Edit. Great, this shit always happens. I hate working with multiple texts.

A copy and paste error mixed up two lines at the start.

WBO abdii sabaa means “WBO, hope of the nation,” and WBO wabii sabaa means “WBO, the nation’s backbone/guarantee.”

This song came out a few days ago. I found it while exploring the people tagged in Jaal Biyyafaan’s Facebook posts from my last post. This particular Jaal’s name is Abdii. I looked through his page to understand his perspective on why they are still in an active conflict with the government.

These items kept coming up on his/their posts:

- Achieving true regional autonomy and a functioning federation (they basically said the government would be crazy to try and stop this).
- Fully implementing Afaan Oromo as an official language in the capital city.
- Putting a stop to political repression and neo-Neftenya authoritarianism.
- Reclaiming Finfinnee (Addis Ababa) under Oromia administration.

Honestly, three of those things seem achievable. Putting Addis under Oromia administration is the one that needs further debate. I think they mostly want this because it is historically Oromo land, and they want to stop the displacement of Oromo farmers as the city keeps encroaching further into Oromia.

I wasn’t entirely sure about his statement about peace at the start. However, I think it highlights his reason for not disarming, aside from the government failing to recognise the boundaries of safuu. For him, a quiet life under subjugation isn’t true peace. If his people are still being oppressed, personal safety or a forced ceasefire means absolutely nothing to him.

Technically, their systemic criticisms are valid. But the tough reality is that they have no institutional leverage to force these changes since they’ve never held state power. Personally, I still feel like building strategic alliances and civil disobedience would work better than guns. But at the same time, I know how toxic and exhausting debating Ethiopian politics is. I also know I’m probably out of touch with the realities of armed struggle because some of these people sound like generational fighters, and everyone has their own deeply personal reasons for being there.

Despite it being filmed during an active conflict, I actually thought this particular song was cute. Qabsoo (resistance) songs aren’t always about beefing with the government. Sometimes they are just about checking in on people, showing community care, or simply using the music as a safe space.

I’m working on translating another song of his. Is anyone who speaks Afaan Oromo willing to look through these lines and tell me what they mean? I’m struggling to understand the sarcasm and accusations in these.

1. Maali maali fokkoruun ishee

What does this “boasting” mean here? What exactly are they accusing? Is it a reference to government propaganda?

2. Si’i mala muraa gufuu hambisee

Is he saying the government sabotages solutions, or that they cut solutions and leave the root problems (gufuu / obstacles) behind without fixing anything?

3. Sobdee dhaadatti sobdee dhaabbatti

Again, I don’t quite understand what the boasting refers to. Would you translate sobdee dhaabbatti as calling out the government’s shaky or false foundations?

Found this song through Jaal Biyyafaan’s poetry recitals on Facebook. I gave up trying to capture the poetic language in English lol, hence all the meaning notes scattered throughout.

Safe to say now that the enemy of the Oromos is the government? Anyway, I thought it’d be better to specify exactly which system they were referring to based on their Facebook posts rather than just keeping it vague.

I couldn’t fully make out the speech at the end, but from the parts I did understand, they said they’ll continue fighting until the slave system is completely dismantled, Finfinnee/Addis is reincorporated into the Oromia Region, and Afaan Oromo returns to the capital.

It doesn’t seem like such a big issue to fix, so why is there an actual war happening over this… I kinda get them though, screw the government because you can’t really trust them. Limiting yourselves to armed struggle alone doesn’t seem like a solution either. They’re already speaking in systemic language, so why not channel that energy into building political alliances rather than taking on a heavily resourced army that’s difficult to defeat and losing lives over it.

Resource: Understanding Safuu

I don’t know the singer or his background, but this song apparently caused a ruckus.

I’m not even sure what I’m still hearing, or what I heard in the first place, so I spared you the raw details to keep things PG-13 in case kids are around.

It’s no secret who the rejection is about since it’s been advertised for some time, so in the future, when you read comments under this music video saying things like, “Galla… this is why Amharas are fighting” and “Fano Fano,” etc., I hope we can all laugh at the dynamic.

Because what these guys are saying is that they don’t want this woman trying to move into their master bedroom when her vision is lacking, even though they’ve tried teaching her the house rules and will probably have to keep doing so for some time. The overall message is that they’ll F-up certain characters until they get it, but they’re not saying they’ll kick everyone out of bed.

I originally thought the muse he was longing for was a celebration of Oromo women, but I think his other “muse” that gets his adrenaline going is gunfire. Clearly, he needs help too since he’s having fun outside and isn’t doing anything to go home, though we also can’t forget the government because they apparently enjoy getting things the hard way.

Anyway, this is such an unnecessary, kinda funny dynamic, and this group needs couples therapy.

Resource: Understanding Safuu

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9

This is such a beautiful, haunting song. I didn’t want to crowd the caption with a massive wall of politics, so I kept the formatting simple. The brackets are my own additions. Some are poetic interpretations, while others explain what the lines mean traditionally.

The lyrics might look cute on the surface, but all I hear is a layered warning that the community needs to arm and protect itself. Beneath the wedding imagery is a story of betrayal, with politicians selling out Maccaa land and opening the gates to Fano militias carrying out campaigns of ethnic cleansing in places like Kirmu and Horro, mirroring what happened in Western Tigray. To hide this heavy message, the lyrics use the framework of a traditional Oromo wedding song.

On the surface, it is a Mararoo, where a bride laments because she is leaving her home and family. But Oromo weddings also feature Arrabsoo, ritual insults where the bride’s friends and family block the gate and launch rapid-fire, theatrical insults at the groom’s crew to humble them. This makes it the perfect shield for political defiance. They use the opportunity to take jabs at the old ex while teaching the new groom about the standards expected by their family and community.

In this song, that symbolism becomes a reference to the 1882 invasion of Wallagga by Tekle Haymanot. The girls mock this historical greed by singing about a groom stuffing his face as if he grew the food himself. Since an Oromo groom is traditionally expected to eat very little out of respect, turning his appetite into gluttony is a shot at the expansionist mindset invading Wallagga under the Bizamo faction, along with their ragtag entourage, Tsimdo. Because the song is rooted in resistance, the daughter is not going back to the rejected ex (symbolised by the bird flying out of the mother’s nest, meaning even in the face of forced displacement, the daughter always comes back to her homeland, so they’re never lost). Instead, they deliver a warning that three graves are waiting. There is one for the ex-groom, representing the hostile outsider behind these plots, one for the best man, representing the internal Neo-Neftengyas opening the gates for the invaders, and one for the household itself.

Wishing death on the entourage is the ultimate expression of rejection in Arrabsoo, but politically it means a total, generational rejection of the other house’s traditions and character, as they are seen as incompatible with the Oromo community. Once the outsider is rejected and the new groom passes the ritual of being insulted, the daughter leaves with him because he has shown that he shares their values. In other words, she is not being taken away by the outsiders whose systems they have completely rejected.

Then they pause to give her loving advice about how to conduct herself in her new home, aka the conflict zone she is entering.

And just to top it all off, they finish by mocking the rejected suitor one last time for stuffing his face as if he grew the food himself.

Resource: Understanding Safuu

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9

Edit: Paragraph 4/ 5

The translation of this song by Jaal Michuu Seenaa is pretty self-explanatory, probably the easiest one I’ve found because he speaks so directly. Some lines were translated contextually rather than word for word to better convey the emotional and political meaning behind the Afaan Oromo expressions.

It follows his story of why he joined the WBO armed resistance, before sharing a heartbreaking experience where he saw a sister drown 😭

I couldn’t find a single video of the full song, so I stitched two videos together to complete the performance. If there are any questions, drop them in the comments for a discussion.

Resource: Understanding Safuu

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

Qabsoo (Oromo resistance songs) Part 10. As a reminder, Afaan Oromoo relies heavily on nature, ecology, and animal personification to express political disenfranchisement and emotional realities. Without adding too much poetic interpretation, I have tried to make these lines flow for non Oromo speakers while preserving their implications.

Amansis opens with an expression of profound disappointment regarding unfulfilled hope and political frustration. While rain traditionally symbolises blessing, abundance, and renewal in Oromo culture, the image of a dark fog (hurrii) blocking the sky represents a hijacked political transition. Following the monumental “storm” of the Oromo youth protests, the subsequent transition should have brought freedom and peace. Instead, both were withheld, leaving the Oromo people carrying their wounds (madaa).

Despite this suffering, the singer insists that the Oromo people are fighting for dhugaa (truth and justice). This struggle is presented as a justified response to continuous hostility rather than unprovoked aggression. The line “tuqee na tuttuqee” (“it kept provoking and pushing me”) highlights that the Oromo did not seek conflict, but were cornered by a state unwilling to deliver meaningful freedom.

The song then turns grief into mobilisation through symbols of unyielding defiance. Lyrical references to marqaa, a thick and dense traditional porridge, symbolise an absolute refusal to surrender under political pressure. The rhetorical question “Maal jettaree?” (“What can you even say now?”) directly challenges the government and rival political factions, while the call-and-response sections turn outward to reinforce that the community will not retreat.

One of the most politically charged lines in the song states, “Diinni diina caaluu kalees har’as jiraa” (“An enemy worse than any enemy exists yesterday and today”). Within post 2018 transitional context, this is widely understood as a critique of resurgent Amhara nationalist movements and militia forces like Fano. The “enemy” is not specifically about a people, but the older imperial political order they are seen as trying to restore. As the song moves into Walloo and references a seat bought with blood not being handed over, the lyrics also connect to ongoing conflicts in the Oromiyaa Special Zone. The singer warns that these movements threaten to dismantle ethnic federalism, while reminding both the audience and the government that the Oromo will not allow their generational sacrifices to be undone.

Certain concepts in the song defy direct English translation, such as xiiqii, which is a complex proverbial blend of accumulated grievance, pride, defiance, and an absolute refusal to back down. By combining this concept with the horse, an ancestral Oromo symbol of war and resistance, the singer warns that past state actions have birthed an uncontrollable xiiqii horse, signalling that the movement will not stop until the system that created it is dismantled.

Finally, the song politically reinterprets the concept of gumaa. Traditionally a restorative justice process designed for communal reconciliation and closure, gumaa is transformed here into a collective political obligation. The blood of those killed for the cause binds the community together, turning grief into a duty to continue the struggle until their political aims are secured.
This aspect of Ethiopian politics a deeply saddening reality. Because there is no trusted neutral institution capable of mediating or speaking for all sides equally, political legitimacy has increasingly devolved into competing historical grievances and endless cycles of justification.

By sharing more of these posts, I hope to challenge some of the misconceptions Ethiopian society holds about Oromo political motivations. These resistance voices are often excluded from state media and prevented from reaching wider audiences. For those interested in learning about Oromo culture and why Oromo political thought has historically clashed with centralised state systems, I have linked this reading material Understanding Safuu. If you have any questions about this song, feel free to leave them in the comments so everyone can discuss them further.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 9