Walaloo Mana — Barumsaa Koo

Then I remembered my mother, a cleaner who never finished school, who’d wake at 4 a.m. to walk me here so I could “eat letters” ( qubee nyaadhu ). The words poured out:

We cried. Even Barsiisaa Girma wiped his glasses. Today, I am a teacher in a city school — clean windows, projectors, a library full of books. But sometimes, in the middle of a lesson, I close my eyes and I’m back there: the smell of rain on hot cement, the scratch of chalk, the laughter under the odaa tree. walaloo mana barumsaa koo

But oh, the walaloo — the poetry — that lived in those walls. Then I remembered my mother, a cleaner who

But then Chaltu — the silent girl — stood. Her voice cracked like dry earth meeting rain: Even Barsiisaa Girma wiped his glasses

“ Mana barumsaa, mana ifaa, Bakka hubanni biqilaa… ” (School, house of light, Where understanding sprouts…)

“ Mana barumsaa koo, Si hin irraanfatani. Walaloon kee nannanaa jira. ” (My school, You are not forgotten. Your song still echoes.)