Walaloo Mana Barumsaa Koo Apr 2026

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

One boy sang of the broken bell that rang late. A girl sang of the well where we washed our feet before class. I sang of the window near my desk, where a lizard always watched me solve math.

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

I stood there a long time. Then I took a piece of chalk from my pocket — I always carry one — and beneath those words, I wrote:

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. “ Mana barumsaa koo, Si hin irraanfatani

I froze. The other kids giggled. But Barsiisaa Girma nodded gently. “Continue,” he whispered.

Of course! Here’s an interesting, heartfelt story about Walaloo Mana Barumsaa Koo (a nostalgic, poetic reflection on my school). The Echoes of Walaloo Mana Barumsaa Koo Your song still echoes

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: