Afaan Oromoo is not merely a language; it is a womb. Walaloo is the first heartbeat in that womb—a rhythm older than drums, sharper than spears. When we speak of Barnoota (Education) in the 39th verse of the soul, we are not counting pages. We are counting seasons. We are counting the years a seed takes to break rock.
Waa’ee 39-ee barnoota is the poetry of the nearly-there. It is the cry of a student who has walked 38 miles and has one mile left—but that last mile is a desert.
I. Odeessa Irratti (At the Altar of the Word) walaloo afaan oromoo waa 39-ee barnoota
A powerful walaloo about the 39th level of education speaks of two friends: Tiyyaan kitaaba qaba. Kiyyaan qalma qaba. Tiyya (Mine) has a book. Kiyya (Ours) has a scar. Tiyyaa wants a degree. Kiyyaa wants a river. At the 39th crossroads, they embrace. Barnoota is not leaving Kiyyaa behind. Barnoota is learning to read the scar as a map. The 39th lesson is community . No one crosses into 40 alone. The Oromo philosophy of “Walaloo” insists that knowledge that does not heal the collective is a beautiful disease.
Walaloo sings: Barsiisaa koo, ani 39-ee keessa jira. My teacher, I live inside the 39th night. I have memorized the alphabet of hunger, But the library of liberation is still locked. Barnoota: you are the knife and the honey. In the 39th stage of learning, the student realizes that education is not the filling of a bucket, but the lighting of a fire that burns colonial shadows. The 39th lesson is always the hardest: that knowing is not enough. You must become. Afaan Oromoo is not merely a language; it is a womb
Waa’ee 39-ee barnoota is this: Qabiyyee: This piece is an imaginative fusion of Oromo oral poetic structures (walaloo, allegory, symbolic numbering) and the existential weight of education in contexts of cultural resilience. It honors Afaan Oromo as a living language of resistance and renewal.
In the oral tradition of Oromo wisdom, numbers carry weight. 39 is not 40. 40 is completion, the arrival of the elder, the end of the test. But 39… 39 is the eve of dawn. It is the wound that has not yet scarred. It is the question before the answer. We are counting seasons
Let me write a final stanza—not as a conclusion, but as a door. Yeroo 39-ffaa barnootaaf, At the 39th hour of learning, The teacher asks: “Maal beekta?” (What do you know?) The student answers: “Maal akka hin beekne beeke.” (I know what I do not know.) The 39th truth: ignorance is not shame. The shame is refusing to ask in your mother’s voice. So rise, Oromo alphabet. Rise, 39th stone. Barnoota is the wound that learns to sing. And singing is the only diploma that lasts.