Ejero Usuu Narrator

Ayano Jiru Interviewer

August 19, 2016 Saint Paul, Minnesota

Interview conducted in English

Ejero Usuu -EU Ayano Jiru -AJ

AJ: Welcome to an Oromo oral history interview with the Minnesota Historical Society. I am Ayano Jiru recording for the Minnesota Historical Society Oromo Oral History Project. Today is August 19, 2016, and we are in the city of Saint Paul. I'm here with Ejero Usuu, who is Oromo Sports Federation [OSFNA] president, the biggest Oromo organization in the diaspora. Mr. Ejero, welcome to the interview.

EU: Thank you for having me.

AJ: To begin our interview, let me ask you this question off hand. Where were you born?

EU: I was born in a village called Safara Chare, about fifty miles away from the city of Dodola.

AJ: Dodola. Where is the city of Dodola?

EU: The city of Dodola is in West Arsi. That’s all I know. It’s in .

AJ: West Arsi, Ethiopia. Is West Arsi…

EU: In .

AJ: In Oromia of Ethiopia. That’s why we’re doing Oromo oral history.

EU: Yes, sir.

AJ: Wonderful, wonderful. Were your parents born there as well?

EU: Yes. My dad was born in the Dodola area, and my mom was born in the Asasa area.

AJ: What did they do for a living in Ethiopia?

1 EU: My dad, he graduated and then went off to college and became a teacher. But then he wasn’t able to do well with the teaching—meaning money-wise—so he decided to go into an independent business, where he succeeded.

AJ: I see. So he chose business over education. You can just switch careers, just like you can switch careers in America.

EU: There you go. Yes.

AJ: There you go. What did your mom do for a living in Ethiopia?

EU: My mom, she was a housewife.

AJ: Is that how it is in most of the Oromo community?

EU: Back in the day, my mom and dad married by an arranged marriage. The role of women back then was just a wife, just to help the family in the house and become a housewife. The education wasn’t there from her parents’ side, and from my dad’s side it’s the same thing. But my dad was able to go to school and at the same time also help his father with the farming and everything else.

AJ: That’s how it was. My parents’ case was the same. My father was the one who was educated. My mom was a homemaker, unfortunate to say. What was the style of living like with your dad would always be out doing his business, the mom is taking care of the home, then you and the brothers, what did you guys do?

EU: When I was back home in Oromia, I was young. I wasn’t able to farm, but I took a role of herding cows and goats sometimes. I wasn’t old enough to do it by myself, but I was guided by one of our maids, who herds cows and sheep and goats. So I was able to guide it for a little bit, but then right away my dad wanted me to go to school. So I was fortunate enough to start school at a young age.

AJ: Wonderful, wonderful. I myself was a sheep herdsman, goat herdsman, and by the time I got old enough to go after the cows and the bulls, an opportunity came for me to leave for America.

EU: Nice.

AJ: How many siblings do you have?

EU: My mom has six kids total—four boys and the last two are girls. I also have a stepmom— my dad’s second wife. She had two kids. One is here, and one is still in Africa.

AJ: So you have two moms. One stepmom…

EU: Yes, she’s in Africa.

2 AJ: Are you in the middle or where do you rank?

EU: I’m the oldest from my mom and from my dad.

AJ: How old are you now?

EU: I’ll be thirty this coming August twenty-eighth.

AJ: Oh, man, I’m not that far away from you.

EU: I thought you were older than me, but okay.

AJ: I’m just a little bit behind you, though.

EU: Okay.

AJ: Just a little bit behind you, three years behind you. What is it like growing up in this large family? Do you have enough clothing, have enough everything? My father had three wives as well, and it was very difficult to manage three households.

EU: Like I told you, my dad was fortunate enough to have means then by choosing to go to independent business. He was able to take care of his family, and he had the means to take care of us. I’ve never experienced any hardship in my life when I was at a younger age. An opportunity came for us to come over here, and my dad actually left the country. He was doing well by all means. He was a well-respected man and doing well in his life, but he has to leave just to give us the opportunity to get education that he did not have.

AJ: What was your father’s business?

EU: He was a merchant.

AJ: Oh, a merchant.

EU: He sold wheat and barley and other forms of eatables.

AJ: That’s a big business in Africa.

EU: It was big. There were two big market days in Dodola—Monday and Thursdays. So he was able to purchase up to three huge truckloads of wheat and other eatable items, and then on the weekend, he’d take them to the capital city Finfinne [Addis Ababa] in Oromia, where he sells. He had a good profit out of it, and comes back and kept doing that. It’s a good business then. I don’t know about now.

AJ: Wonderful. You said your father was educated. Were you able to go to school in Ethiopia?

EU: Yes, I was. I started school when I was four years old.

3

AJ: Four years old!

EU: Yeah. At that time, it’s hard to find people to go to school at four years old. I was able to do that, and I went to a small school in the city of Qachama. From there I transitioned to Danaba, about maybe ten miles from Dodola. From there I moved to the inner city where our house was, at a school called Malasxanya. I went there, and took my eighth grade exam, and I passed that to go to ninth grade to learn in English. So English started from ninth grade. I was going into my tenth year then, and my dad won a diversity visa. It’s called DV [diversity visa].

AJ: DV.

EU: Yes. And that’s how we ended up coming here.

AJ: You guys have to be very lucky to win a DV.

EU: Yes, sir. Very lucky.

AJ: Do people buy other lotteries other than DV in Ethiopia? Do they buy, like, the money lottery to win money?

EU: I don’t think there is such thing as gambling over there. [Both chuckle.] It’s hardly ever found. But my dad was fortunate enough. It’s funny. The day he was buying the lottery… For me at a young age, getting in the car and going somewhere is a very huge thing, you know. Even at the young age, I was able to help him because I’m the oldest and he didn’t have any helper around. He will have a security guard next to me, and I was able to actually purchase some good quality barley, quality wheat then. He taught me how to do it. You have to dig in there and check what kind of quality. Some people put some different ingredients in there to just have more pounds to get more money.

AJ: Yeah, I remember that. I remember that.

EU: I was able to learn at the young age. I was actually helping him while he was away—with the help of a security guard because I was holding so much money in my hand at a young age. But there, there weren’t many thieves then or robbery going on there. So it was very safe, at least to say. But with the right security guard, I was able to do it. So when some opportunity comes and business is doing well and there is no school, I was able to just go with him away for two or three days. That’s how I ended up in the capital city of Finfinne, in Oromia. There were kids running around holding the lottery, the DV lottery. In words, they say, “Kana mamaria gara and birr [with a teacher, one birr],” explaining to you the rule of how to gamble or get the lottery. Just one Ethiopian birr [Ethiopian currency]. That is, I think, less than five cents.

AJ: Of the dollar here.

EU: Yeah, American money. We filled out that on the spot. It was a kid who was selling it, and he took back the form and gave the receipt, and my dad was generous enough to give him

4 actually ten dollars as a tip. He did very well that day. Ten dollars is huge money then, let alone one dollar.

AJ: You mean ten birr? He gave him ten birr.

EU: Yeah, ten birr is huge money in Ethiopia then. The kid was so excited that he was actually telling my dad that he will turn it in himself, and he will make sure. He was just wishing my dad well, too, so he could win. We totally forgot about it. About a year and a half into after he filled it out, one man who happens to be our uncle—I think you know him. Jamal?

AJ: Yep.

EU: Who used to work at the post office in Dodola, and then he used to work in .

AJ: Yep. I was a little kid. I’d go over there and ask him for candy money all the time.

EU: Right. He brought to us saying, “Hey, you won a lottery.” It was in the morning. We were drinking coffee and just eating breakfast. We all smiled. At the time, I didn’t know how serious it was, so I didn’t really care. I was like, “Oh, nice.” My dad was all smiling.

But then there was a hiccup. There is a form that comes, right? That you won. And then you have to fill out that form and return it back, and it will take another year to be processed and come back. They say if it comes back a second time, that means it’s legit. That means it’s real. But if it doesn’t come back, that means it’s fake. So after a year, it comes back. My dad was still getting really excited about it because it was all new to him. Of course, going to America was a huge deal then. But my dad, since he was doing well in life, he didn’t really care about it. It was all about his business.

When the DV the second time arrived, everybody was excited. Some of my uncles are well educated, and then they saw it and became really excited. Remember, when the first time comes, that’s when you have to fill out all the kids that you have, the wives that you have and all that. So my dad at the time did just only my mom and then our six kids only. My stepmom’s oldest son was born a year after the lottery was filled out and sent back. But then somebody said he was born after the DV was returned, and he was able to come in that case too.

So when it came back, it was decision time, and my dad was debating whether to leave all his successful business that he created here and then go over there. A lot of people pushed him, saying, “Hey, it’s a good opportunity, America. You can make better money there, live a good life. You can give your kids the opportunity to go school there.” He always wanted to give us the best we could have—for his kids. So he just decided to leave everything and took us to Finfinne, Addis Ababa [Finfinne], for the processing. We stayed there about two months before we arrived in Oregon, where our sponsor was.

AJ: You were in Oregon first?

5 EU: Yes, we were actually in Oregon for three years before we moved in 2001 to Minnesota. Normally when people get a diversity visa, they struggle to find sponsors or they struggle to bring all of the family at one time because, of course, it’s very expensive in Ethiopian birr, you know.

AJ: The DV process is very expensive.

EU: It’s very expensive itself. Actually my dad spent well over 100,000 Ethiopian birr to bring all of us here. Thankfully, he had the means to do it, but some people are not even fortunate to do that, so they have to send the lottery to somebody else because they could not afford to come. There is an instance of hiccups like that. But we were fortunate enough to come here. But when we got here, my dad really hated it. He didn’t like it because he had never worked in labor like working here in America for somebody else. He always had someone work for him.

AJ: He had a hard time clocking in at 9:00 a.m. and getting off at 5:00 p.m.

EU: Exactly. Work was there, but getting up at that time like you just mentioned and making that adjustment, it just happened a lot and it was tough for him. We were kids, and we were excited. We were all about going to school and having fun, but we didn’t experience anything. But he experienced a lot of setbacks. He came to even the point where he regrets.

AJ: It was the same for my father when he came to America. He wasn’t able to go to work. He worked for two months. He couldn’t even find a job. This man was a judge and he was a lawyer, but he came to America and the only job he could find was in a hotel.

EU: Or just working at the labor jobs. So that was tough for him, very tough for him.

AJ: Very tough, very tough.

EU: But the funny thing is, now, when he goes back home to visit family members over there— because we have a huge family back home, by the way—he just couldn’t sleep one night there.

AJ: Why?

EU: Because he’s used to, you know, the comfort of living here. He’s like a double standard. But he said, yes, he would love to be there, but he didn’t like sleeping there and it was tough for him to adjust. Of course, here you take pretty much every morning a shower. There wasn’t that flexibility of having water as you wished there to take a shower, or there is no appropriate hygiene, a good restroom that you can go to.

AJ: Running water.

EU: Yeah. The running water is very limited. It was tough to adjust for him. But he still loves to go there to see the people and to see the land.

6 AJ: I went back in 2012 to Ethiopia. I couldn’t adjust. I couldn’t wait until I ran out of that country. I imagine, I can understand why he had a tough time when he went back.

EU: So now he says, “I’m just going to live here, but I will go sometimes to visit family members.” Just go back and forth, you know. He chooses to go during winter to get away from Minnesota weather. In the summer, he’s just staying here.

AJ: It’s good to take breaks like that, to go to that warm place where you came from, that intimate place. My father wished to do that, but he can’t do that. It’s very expensive to go back.

EU: It is, it is. Maybe, I know he’s got a lot of sons here, everybody needs to chip in $100 each to send him over there, let him stay especially during Ramadan or otherwise during when it’s crazy and cold. Send him over there, let him spend two or three months and then come back.

AJ: My father said, “You know, I have twenty of you, so it can be easy for you guys to take care of me.” But it doesn’t seem that works out.

EU: It takes time, because life itself is hard, especially if you have family of your own. It’s tough to even have a means to take care of that and then also help somebody else also. But eventually you guys need to contribute something and help him out.

AJ: Yeah. Let me take you back to education, because education for Oromo was always hard for an Oromo to get an education, especially with the government [1930-1974]. They banned Oromo education. A few of our parents were lucky enough to go to school up to fourth grade and then they would have to work for the government. You were lucky enough to start school at age four!

EU: Yeah. You can say I’m the Qubee Generation [Literature Generation, Oromos born since 1980].

AJ: You are the Qubee Generation. Qubee Generation is the Literature Generation.

EU: Yes. When I started school, I learn in Afaan Oromoo [] until I get to fifth grade. In fifth grade I have to take one Ethiopian national language, which is Amharic. Then also the school in Dodola is a little bit segregated. Not really segregated, but it used to be just all in Afaan Oromoo, then after fifth grade you take Amharic, one class, and then after ninth grade it’s all English. Then of course, there is one Afaan Oromoo and one Amharic. But I was fortunate enough to learn in Afaan Oromoo until fifth grade—from first grade to fifth grade. Then in fifth grade, one school in Dodola—it’s called Tullu Dodola—changed to Amharic, just completely Amharic from grade one to eighth. Then there are other schools that are just Afaan Oromoo from grade one to eighth. Then, of course, we take one language of Amharic and then they also take one language of Afaan Oromoo. Since I lived in the city, I was able to speak fluent Amharic, actually, even though right now I don’t speak much. But I do listen very well. I didn’t start English. It was just when I took the national language from eighth grade to ninth grade. I think it’s called not “matri,” but something. Do you know?

7 AJ: The national language.

EU: Yeah, eighth grade to go to ninth grade.

AJ: TTI [Teacher Training Institute]?

EU: Something like that. There is a name for it, but I forget the name right now.

AJ: TTI.

EU: Something like that. The TTI is for college.

AJ: The TTI is for college, yeah. I remember everybody was struggling to take that one when you get to tenth grade or something.

EU: Yeah. So I wasn’t able to get to ninth grade where I can learn English, but actually I had an opportunity to learn in English as a back up or as a paid charter school, where with high school students I was able to learn English then because my dad paid monthly there. You know the guy who teaches especially math and English? You know Kassim Aman?

AJ: Kassim Aman, yeah, yeah.

EU: He’s a very smart guy. In math I was actually pretty good as a seventh or eighth grader going to school with adults. I was well received then.

AJ: When you were a four year old, was that first grade or Head Start [early childhood education program]?

EU: They call it first grade. There is no Head Start. Normally, you start from three years. When you turn three, that’s when you start school in general there.

AJ: When I was in first grade…

EU: Some people don’t start—sorry to cut you off—but some people don’t start until they’re like ten, eleven, twelve, fifteen, even twenty years old they start from first grade.

AJ: When I was in first grade, we had twenty year olds in our class. They were our class leaders.

EU: What they call musee [class leader].

AJ: Was it like that for you as well?

EU: Yes, of course. In class we have a class leader, where he can discipline you as he wishes. Sometimes you get beat up when you misbehave. You have to do pretty much as they say. To be honest with you, I hated it. They were very abusive. But I had an advantage over other students

8 because my dad is well known in the area, so when I call his name, even those kids take it easy on me. It’s not fair, but I was a little bit advantaged.

AJ: Advantage is good. You get to take the advantage like that.

EU: It was a good memory that you reminded me.

AJ: For sure. What can you say about the quality of education in Oromia?

EU: Well, then, the quality of education wasn’t much. There are some people, some students who were fortunate enough to go to school. Some of them actually have to be a farmer, then also a student part time, take care of the family, their older dad, their older mom, and then also some of them have even their own family. And yet during the evening they do farming and goat herding, cattle herding, and then in the morning they go to school for a couple of hours, then go back. It’s just a cycle that keeps going. So education is very limited there. You don’t have much opportunity to go because, as you know, education wasn’t available to especially the Oromo region because of the fear that the government has that if, let’s say, the [Oromo] majority is educated, it can overwhelm them and they won’t do as they say. So for that fear, education was very limited, especially in Afaan Oromoo.

AJ: Were there enough books and desks in the classroom for kids to sit?

EU: In some cases, no. Only those maybe vigorous schools have adequate chairs or adequate chalk to write with. Sometimes families struggle to even buy you a pen and paper to write with. Some families don’t even have that money to send their kids to school, so the kids just end up staying in the house, helping the family, or herding goats, cows, sheep, or just helping in the yard. Just doing family work instead of going to school. Some of them don’t even value education because they never thought of it, because their family never went to school. It’s really tough for a lot of families back then. I don’t know about now.

AJ: Let’s move on to coming to the US. Your family was lucky to win a DV, and they paid a really high price for the DV to make it to America. Then in America you guys landed in Oregon, lived about three years there. Why come to Minnesota? Why not stay in Oregon?

EU: Good question. There is what we call Abera Gosa [tribes lead by Ejero’s uncle]. My uncle—you know Abba Gadaa Irbo Woliyi—he was here in Minnesota, and then there were a lot more Oromos here then, in Minnesota. My dad a little bit felt outcasted. There wasn’t anybody that he can socialize with or can get kids around Oromos. There weren’t many Oromos there. Even the ones that are there, you barely see them. He felt that just even for the discipline of kids and kids not fully assimilating to American culture to also know their roots, it’s better for the kids to move to where the majority of Oromo are. Then also a lot of Oromos that he knows who live here in Minnesota convinced him to move closer to them so they can bond more. For that reason, we decided to move here.

I loved it there, personally. Weather-wise, it’s just like back home. It can get a little bit windy and too rainy, but it’s perfect weather compared to Minnesota. It’s funny. It was during October

9 when we came here. Actually, your sister was our welcoming person. Because we took a Greyhound to come here, it was a long, long, like thirty-six, forty hours of a bus ride. A lot of things happened on the way, but we were thankful when we landed here safely. It was October, so imagine Minnesota is so cold, and we never dressed appropriately because we didn’t know about the weather. We hadn’t worn too much. Like my dad was in disbelief. Like what kind of country or world we were in, because everywhere was just covered with snow, and it was cold. It was hard to accept it. We even regretted leaving there. We were crying, literally crying when we came here. We wanted to go back to Oregon. We were living comfortably in Oregon. So eventually we moved here, and after we moved here, we kind of accustomed to Minnesota lifestyle and weather and everything. It just became home now. I don’t even want to leave Minnesota. [Chuckles.]

AJ: It was exactly the same case with my family as well. First we came to Iowa. It was just us. There was nobody, no other Oromos in Iowa it felt like. After three years in Iowa, we moved to Minnesota as well.

EU: So you guys were between Iowa and Minnesota.

AJ: Just like your family. Because it is the most Oromo population in Minnesota. That’s how we ended up in Minnesota.

EU: Exactly.

AJ: Now, you said your father was a businessman in Oromia. In America, was he able to adjust to his business?

EU: Not really. He actually wanted to go to school to learn English, so he went to adult ESL [English as a Second Language] classes. He learned how to ask something and whatnot. He was educated, but he was not educated to the extent where he can learn in English then. But he did have knowledge of pretty much everything, but it’s just speaking was the hardest part. He started working, of course. He has to start working right away because he has a family to feed. But it was a struggle for him for a little bit. It’s hard to go back to the job that he used to do, so he wasn’t able to continue on.

AJ: Ethiopian skills are not transferable to America.

EU: Yeah. Even doctors, let alone him.

AJ: Start from scratch. When we come to America we start from scratch. What about for you? Were you able to go to school in America?

EU: Yeah. I right away got enrolled in seventh grade when I came. I finished all my elementaries in Oregon, and I started my high school here in Minnesota.

AJ: Which high school did you go to?

10 EU: I went to Roosevelt Area High School for one semester because my family resided in the Roosevelt area. Then the second semester, the family moved to the Highland area, and I ended up going to Como Park High School. That’s where I went and graduated from. Then after I graduated from Como, I went on to enroll at the University of Minnesota-Twin Cities in 2008. Then I graduated in 2012 in biology. In the process, I worked for a nonprofit organization, and also I was involved in a youth leadership role and also in the Oromo Youth Association here in Minnesota. Then I also used to be a cultural showman, a dancer, as a youth.

AJ: You were a dancer? What kind of dance?

EU: Four years, Oromo cultural dance, just to teach people about Oromo culture and dances from all the eleven regions of Oromo. I have been very active from the start.

AJ: Very nice, very nice. You seem well-connected in the community. You greatly participate in the community. I know you served the Oromo Sports Federation as well. Are you able to fill your contribution to the Oromo, advancing Oromo? That’s what you’re very passionate about.

EU: Growing up, even when I was back home actually, it’s funny how I read poetry. Especially every morning when the kids are lined up for the flags to be raised, I read the poems. I write poems. I used to write funny poems about life situations, about health and wellness, about preventing people, kids, from like sexual disease and other stuff. That kind of related— economics or about the area that they’re in. You had to be well-connected with the community. Based on that, I write poetry to be read in the morning, every morning. Also, at one point I was even a singer. There is a band—it’s called Rantu Band in the Dodola area, where there is one teacher that teaches music in the school. He gathered up talented students who can sing and do all the melodies, the keyboard and whatnot, and then when the national sport happened in Dodola or the government does some sort of gathering for Oromos, there is a cultural show that goes around different areas within Oromia every year. I take a role in that part. I did singing. I also read my poetry. So I was in the band, too, at a young age.

AJ: From early on.

EU: From early on. So I was very connected with my Oromo roots. I like spoken words, so I did that a lot. That actually carried with me. I was very fluent in writing Oromo, and I can arrange wolalos [poems] or connect words to singing or for other things. But sometimes when you don’t continue what you love to do, you kind of lose it. That’s where I’m at right now. But then, I used to write. Even to this day I do write sometimes. But I’ve never had that kind of stage where I can read comfortably or just be myself. That’s never been present to me, but I still can write well and then also speak well. Through that, I was able to be involved with the youth here in Minnesota, whether it’s a cultural show or other stuff. I was involved in it very well. Still to this day it stays with me.

AJ: For so long, the Ethiopian government, they degraded being Oromo, they degraded the Oromo roots, they degraded the culture, and then you get involved a lot in Oromo social events. How important is it for you to be connected to your roots and represent your roots?

11 EU: Back home, the opportunity was there, even though in some areas… I think maybe because the area I grew up in, especially the Dodola and Danaba area, people speak fluent Oromo, even though, yes, you can speak Amharic. But the majority is Oromo, so pretty much everything was taught in Afaan Oromoo. So for that reason, people are self-aware. They’re not like if you go to Shewa or to Wollega, it’s mainly in Amharic. And in the Arsi area, they are mainly in Afaan Oromoo. But people speak more Afaan Oromoo than any other language. So I was fortunate enough to be involved at a young age. It stays with me. It’s because of the opportunity that was available then. Not everybody had that opportunity. For me, I guess it started when I was doing my time.

AJ: At the moment, your family weren’t involved in politics in Ethiopia. Did they experience any… You have a passion to get involved in Oromo social and educational events. What does that do for you?

EU: Well, simply, one, for self-awareness. And secondly, that’s who I am and what stays with me as an Oromo. So to just preserver my culture and my identity, I have to balance that. As much as I can, it is my obligation to be involved in everything that’s Oromo.

AJ: Many of us feel that way now, because we’re the Literature Generation, and we have no literature, no cultural respect, and we want to revive this. Is that the mutual feeling you have as well?

EU: Exactly.

AJ: Let’s focus on life in the United States. Tell me about daily life as a new immigrant.

EU: Well, like I told you, I grew up here most of my life. I am assimilated to American culture, but even that, just being Oromo, just coming from an immigrant family, it’s very tough to go about the day as a normal American person. The reason being—I’ll give you an example. When you encounter white people, they have a foundation. They’ve been living in this country from generation to generation. There is a foundation that is set up where you go to school, the family created funding for you. It’s easy for you to transition to your own family. But where you are from an immigrant family, there is not that foundation, so you have to make something for yourself.

AJ: Start from scratch.

EU: Exactly. Start from scratch. Even thought I have the advantage of living here and knowing more here, still that has a huge effect where I have to start everything from scratch and then work up.

AJ: Very true for new immigrants. What changes in lifestyle did you make when you came here?

EU: I was young and naive. I didn’t really have to make a lot of adjustments. The first thing was just to learn the language. I was able to do that. After that, since I was raised well or well

12 behaved in the house, I was able to pick up on everything like an adult. So that self-calmness and the way I was brought up served me a lot in dealing with community stuff and also balancing the two cultures.

AJ: Tell me a bit about learning English. Did you have any struggles, people who made fun of you, turning in the wrong papers?

EU: It is funny you said that. [Chuckles.] Here is what happened to me in seventh grade. We had a neighbor. Our neighbor is white and this girl, she’s white, and she’s my guidance going to school. We take the same bus in the morning and go to school. She’s the one who always gave me directions and took me to the cafeteria for lunch, and also showed me all my classes and stuff. I do have some classes with her, but when I don’t have class she always waits for me at the door to take me to the next class. She was my personal assistant. She was a little bit older than me, but we were pretty much about the same age. It was funny. We were young, and I don’t speak the language, so she used to tell her friends that, “This is my boyfriend.” All I knew is I said, “Yes.” Whenever she said, “You’re my boyfriend, right?” “Yes.” “You’re this and this?” “Yes.” All I know is, “Yes.” I didn’t know, “No.” One thing stood out during that time. Whenever she’s talking to her friend, and then I agreed to it saying, “Yes,” her friends just kind of felt amused and laughed by just make an expression. That kind of threw me off, and I started questioning myself. I asked somebody who knows my language in the family about that question. Then one day it clicked with me. I put in my head that the next day I go to school and if she says something about “boyfriend,” I’m going to say, “No.”

So one day I went to school and said, “No,” and all hell broke loose. [Both chuckle.] I said, “No,” and she wanted to reconfirm. “You’re my boyfriend, right?” I said, “No.” But then I was saying, “No,” with a smile and everything. I was not like somebody who is pissed. So she wanted to get that confirmation from her friends, and I wasn’t willing to give it. She was mad. She threw all her bags and started crying. Me, being naive, I still didn’t know what it was. I just go there, trying to comfort her, but she was telling me to get away from her and all that. So the moral of the story is that by not knowing language, it can mislead you. But at the same time it was funny. [Both chuckle.] So that was one of my experiences. There were many, but that’s one of my experiences.

AJ: Language is power.

EU: Yes, sir.

AJ: You said you were young when you came to America. But as you got older, were you able to—how did you find your housing and job?

EU: I started working when I was in high school—eleventh grade. I started working at 3M here in Minnesota. 3M is a chemical company. In tenth grade, actually, I used to take AP classes. In physics and chemistry I tended to do very well, so through that I was enrolled in an AP program where I was able to actually to go to 3M after school and work there with chemical projects. I was able to make decent money for a high school student, like $11.75.

13 AJ: You had an advantage over everybody. You started out at four years old. Your education started when you were four.

EU: Yeah. So I was able to actually make enough money to purchase me a car right when I was graduating. That was my first job.

AJ: Very nice. After that it was easy to find jobs?

EU: After that it was easy. I just went to school, and then found work on campus as a TA [teaching assistant] first, and then after TA’ing, of course, also as a writer. I started out as a writer for Minnesota Daily, but it didn’t do too well. I did one semester, and then I stopped. We get a stipend, not like fully paid. We get a stipend. I was also involved in that. After that, most of the time while I was in college most of the time I was TA’ing.

AJ: I was a TA in college too.

EU: Mine was in math.

AJ: Mine was as well. Statistics. When you guys came, you first came to Oregon, where there aren’t many .

EU: Actually zero Oromos.

AJ: Zero Oromos, just like in Iowa. [Chuckles.] So when you came to Minnesota, it was easy for you and your family to get connected with the Oromo?

EU: Oh, yeah. There is the Oromo Community [Oromo Community of Minnesota, nonprofit] here. We were able to go there on the weekend. We were able to go on Sundays to a wedding, which we had never seen a wedding before since we moved. Actually going to the Oromo Community, it used to be in Cedar-Riverside [in Minneapolis], the old Oromo Community. That’s our hangout spot.

AJ: You know, every time they do fundraising at the Community, they say, “We made it from the doghouse.” That’s what they say. [Both chuckle.]

EU: Exactly, right.

AJ: What was your first impression of the United States? Has this initial impression changed over time?

EU: I mean, I was wowed. First of all, even when I was back home, I never went to bigger cities—even going from Dodola to Finfinne was like a huge shock. I’ve never seen a much bigger, more secluded area. If you take Dodola, it has a little bit of space, but when I get to Finfinne, people are too crowded, you can barely walk around. There are just houses everywhere. So it’s totally different to adjust to it. Of course, when I got to America, everything was very exciting at a young age. Even though you didn’t know a lot of things, it’s super exciting.

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AJ: Are you still that excited? What is your impression now of America?

EU: Over time, yes, in life you do struggle. There are ups and downs, but I believe there is no country as great as the US—maybe I have never been to another country to say that. But as far as I’ve been in this country almost close to ten years, so this is my country.

AJ: For sure. That’s how we all feel now. What about Minnesota? What is it like getting used to life in Minnesota? Was it easy, challenging, overwhelming, smooth?

EU: When we first moved here, adjusting to weather was not good. I hated it, personally. There were some days that I was crying that I wanted to go back to Oregon. But then I was too young, so I have to follow the family order. I can’t do anything about it. Just to deal with it. But over time, after I learned how to drive, after I was able to take myself around and see everything, it’s just normal.

AJ: What were your hopes for yourself, your family, when you came here? Have you realized these hopes?

EU: Well, I knew it was a good opportunity for the kids, including me, when we came here. But then there is times when I was very aware that especially my mom and dad were having a hard time adjusting to it and they hated themselves and they were regretting the fact that they had to come here because everything wasn’t easy. They weren’t able to go out and doing something. Every day they have to follow the rules and regulations. Sometimes they sit in the house all day, every night. It’s kind of depressing for them. They can’t go outside and be with neighbors or go somewhere or go to a market or anything like that. So it was very tough. And then on top of that, it’s not easy to walk around like back in Oromia. Here, if you don’t have a car, it’s a struggle. You can’t even get from location to location. So it was tough adjusting to all of that.

AJ: Yep. Very tough, very tough. Same struggles, same things that I’m feeling. What sort of generational differences—you just mentioned a little bit about it. You can say a little bit more about it. What sort of generational differences do you observe between Oromos in Minnesota, between elders and youth? How do these differences play out in your life or the life of the community?

EU: That’s a good question. If I start from youth, youth have a chance to do something better and also experience the American Dream and become whatever they want. They have that opportunity, they have that freedom. For an adult, for elders, it is tough being here. One, they couldn’t work. Secondly, education, there wasn’t any education there. They’ve been oppressed for so long in their mind and their mentality that they came with, so it was hard from them to adjust here. So for me, if you ask me, for any elder people who come from back home, yes, you have freedom and you have access to things easily. But living-wise, it’s tough for them. And for the youth, the youth and the younger generation have a lot to contribute to this society and also this great country, and also even be valuable to their country and their families.

AJ: As an Oromo man, thirty year old…

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EU: I’m not thirty yet!

AJ: Twenty-nine, culturally very involved. Oromos get married at eighteen in their culture. Now, are you married? Do you have children? How do you think your children’s life will be the same or different from your own?

EU: When I was back home, since my dad had four kids, all of them boys, he had friends where they have girls and wanted to be his sodas [in-laws], part of his family. They want to give their kids to my dad.

AJ: Yeah, they want to be in-laws.

EU: Yeah, they want to be in-laws. My dad always insisted on saying, “I want my kids to make their own choice. I don’t want them to get trapped like I did because they aren’t educated enough.” He was even saying to himself, “I made a mistake for doing that, but I think the kids should just go to school, educate themselves, and decide for themselves.” He always believed in that. That’s one thing that I admire about my dad. He always wanted us to do well and decide for ourselves. Even when we got older, when even we have an opportunity to get married, even when we were back home and when we came here, he always insisted on saying, “First you finish school before you start even having a girlfriend.” He always insisted on that. I focused on school. If I wanted to, I could have got married, but I was focused on school and occupied with that. So there wasn’t any room to make a mistake and get married at a young age. But now I’m maturing, and I’m getting old, so I think it’s an appropriate time if the right lady came through to start a family. I’m in the middle of my life, and I can start something now.

AJ: For sure, for sure. You want to do everything comfortably. You want to get the education, you want to get the car, you want to get the house before you get married.

EU: Exactly.

AJ: Good advice. You have a successful father. Very lucky man you are. Were your expectations of America met?

EU: I would say exceeds. I didn’t have much expectation, but I’ve heard a great deal about how America is beautiful, America is free, how in America everything is free, actually. There was even a word on the street that you just get the money from the ground, you don’t have to work. But that was not the case. But it did exceed my expectations, yes.

AJ: So your idea of America was not the same as the reality.

EU: Some parts, yes.

AJ: Some parts, yeah. How do you identify? Do you think of yourself as an immigrant? A citizen? An American? An Oromo? An Ethiopian? An Oromo American? An African American? Something else?

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EU: Good question. By the way, when you fill out an application for a job, there is a column where you have to select your ethnicity. I hate that column with all my guts. I wish they didn’t have that. That’s why we have division, we have racism, we have disadvantage, inequalities, and whatnot. That’s why we have this, I believe. Because of that. Just to have that column in an application. It’s good to define for you which part of your identity, but at the same time it will not serve the general purpose of having equal rights when it comes to employment. For that reason, whenever I fill out an application, I always choose “other,” even if there is Oromo in there. That’s just my personal choice. That’s my view on that one.

AJ: That’s a very fair answer. It is very complicated to pick your identity and ethnicity when it’s so diverse and what you really want to call yourself often is not the choice.

EU: Yes.

AJ: Do you have any plans to return to Ethiopia, Oromia? Do you know others who have returned home to stay or for a visit? Why do they or you go back home?

EU: I had an opportunity to go back home while I was in high school and also while I was in college. Just because of summer school that I took, I wasn’t able to go. But my dad went like four times already. He actually offered me two times the opportunity to take me there, but I was preoccupied with my education, so I didn’t want to. I was also advised not to leave in between, because coming back to it is kind of tough to pick it up again. So for that reason I didn’t make myself available to go, but of course I wanted to go back there and see where I was born. Of course I have huge family still over there, some deceased, some still alive. So eventually I need to see the land, I need to see the people. Right now, I only see them on social media and on the videos and whatnot. But eventually, I want to even go back and start something there to serve the communities over there. That’s my dream.

AJ: Good dream you have, a very good dream. Let’s focus now on the Oromo culture and people in Minnesota. Tell me, from your perspective, about the Oromo in Minnesota.

EU: The Oromo community in Minnesota, in general, they stand for the Oromummaa [Oromo patriotism]. But then at the same time, there is—I wouldn’t say division, but there are differences. Differences in politics, differences in religion, differences in region. For that reason, there is always struggle standing for common good within Oromo communities in general. Until everybody starts believing in their Oromummaa, I don’t think you can have any tangible thing or reason where everybody upholds one thing under this umbrella and then through that they can do whatever they want to do. As of now there are people, a lot of educated people, who are trying to do that. It will take time, but eventually with Qubee Generation, I think it will succeed. But as of now it will take time. There is a lot of hardship to climb.

AJ: As the Oromo Soccer Federation president, I see the theme of unity often highly entertained in the organization, and the organization is very successful for that, I think. Would you think the same?

17 EU: Yes, I do think the same. As you know, before I was involved in the organization, I was a player, and I started playing in OSFNA [Oromo Sports Federation in North America] in 2002. After 2002, I stayed with one team until 2014 where I took the role of athletic director on the board that you were in too. The reason I decided to be involved in that—I was running for president then too—but the reason I was involved in that was just because of some of the things that I see the organization is lacking to just make a difference.

AJ: Exactly. You did make a lot of difference.

EU: I believe that the board that took over in 2014 changed a lot and revived OSFNA very well. It’s still not where it’s supposed to be, but it’s getting there. They’re working toward that, and I’m hoping the right leadership will take over to make it happen, to take it to the next level. Eventually after I served two terms with the previous board, at the end of 2015, I was overwhelmingly selected to be the president. It’s a huge responsibility. I agreed to take that role to make a change. I’ve tried what I can. When you do a nonprofit organization, there’s always ups and downs. But overall, if I judge based on how the twentieth anniversary turned out, it’s a huge success. It just needs more work, but it’s going in the right direction. That is the contribution of individuals like me and others who bring the change to the organization.

AJ: You mentioned the Qubee Generation, which means the Literature Generation. That is our generation—that is Oromos that were born after the 1990s mainly. You’re saying with this generation that there is stronger unity, there is a stronger push for Oromummaa, there is a stronger push for Oromo pride. One way of continuing and maintaining the Oromo culture is this way. Now, in what ways or haven’t the Oromo assimilated to the America culture, or are there pressures to assimilate? How do you respond to such pressures to assimilate to the American culture?

EU: What I see in today’s youth are, especially for those who came from back home, they try to be something they’re not, if you will. I have to be very careful when I say this. I guess because of what goes on in the media here in the US, as you know, media has a huge impact on the social life of America. So based on the social media and other outlets, the kids try to emulate that. It has always been a struggle for any Oromo parent for their kids to be behaved. For that reason, it is a struggle for Oromos when their kids assimilate to American culture. But for kids who are brought up here, it’s all based on how the parents bring them up. If their parents are always on top and are giving every room for them to know their culture and their identity, they’re actually better than the kids who come here. But if it’s not there, it’s not there, so it’s their loss. That’s how I view it.

AJ: It’s the balancing of the two cultures.

EU: Exactly.

AJ: The American culture and the Oromo culture.

EU: Instilling in them their culture and their identity.

18 AJ: Exactly. Balancing these two at the same time makes it difficult on the daily life.

EU: Right. Regardless, it’s a struggle for parents.

AJ: How do you keep in touch with relatives and friends back in Oromia?

EU: Like I told you before, I have a huge family. My grandpa married to, I believe, over six wives. From those six wives, he had over seventy kids. Seventy kids, and some of them I don’t even know. They live in different areas in Oromia. Not all of them live in the same area, so I’ve never met them. There are a huge extent of in-laws from my grandpa’s side. The only close family member that I know is my dad, through my dad’s siblings and some of my dad’s stepbrothers’ family. It’s a humongous family. But those that I know, then, keep in touch through social media. Some of them, my dad actually video phones and makes us meet each other. But I still don’t know them. That’s why I want to go back to kind of study my roots, like my family roots. They’re everywhere.

AJ: Some of my family and relatives in Ethiopia, we used to call them, and now we don’t even call them because of the current escalating war in Ethiopia, the Amhara protests, the Oromo protests. These protests are making it very difficult. It’s terrifying for people to receive phone calls from America, especially. Is that affecting your family in any way?

EU: It is, actually. There is a lot of arresting of my family members. Actually one of my uncles, in 2008, got tortured. He worked as an NGO [nongovernmental organization]. They’re called mondiz [engineers]. He’s a road planner. He was accused to giving money to the OLF [Oromo Liberation Front, nationalist organization]. OLF is the Oromo organization, Oromo Liberation Front, that stands for Oromo. He was accused of helping them, and of course as you know and I know, OLF is considered as a terrorist organization in Ethiopia and even known to America. Which is wrong—to me. So he was accused of that, taken off of his work, and put into jail. They just brought a random witness to say, “Yes, he did that,” and he was thrown into jail, interrogated, and tortured where his body parts got damaged because of that.

AJ: I’m sorry about that.

EU: So there’s a lot of heinous stuff that happened. He’s only one person. There are many more than that happened there. But that’s just one person that I mention as an example from my family. He was able to actually escape and went to Norway, and he sought asylum there. He’s living there now. But he always has nightmares every night. He doesn’t have a normal life, but he is living to survive. So there is an instance like that. And then currently there is in Dodola city a lot of my uncles’ younger kids got arrested, beaten, taken to jail. Some of them now, they don’t even know where they are. From what we’ve heard, they’ve taken them to a military camp to train them and what not. The family is very agitated, very hurt because of what is going on. It’s the terror that the family lives in there now. So it’s a really bad time to go there or even call right now. Social media is closed, phones are cut off. So there’s no way to even contact. This is the terror that I believe every Oromo family experiences.

19 AJ: We are extremely worried about the Oromos in Ethiopia because they are under government pressure and there is renewed persecution of the Oromos and just very, very disturbing and sad stuff is taking place in Oromia. Now that we are at the end of our interview, could you summarize what you think of Oromos in Minnesota now?

EU: Oromos in Minnesota are growing by number. They are a large contributor of Minnesota income in general. There are a few even in lawmaking or working toward being in lawmaking and working in our police enforcement. There are a lot of educated Oromos here in Minnesota that are contributing to Minnesota, our state, our great state of Minnesota. In general Oromos here in Minnesota are working together to end what is going on back in Oromia, and also being an example of what hard work looks like in any family. I think a lot of Oromos embody that in Minnesota. Oromos are the most trustworthy, most respectful, most generous people that anybody’s ever seen. I’ll vouch for that any day. I believe everybody would say that.

AJ: We do hold the card of kindness throughout the world.

EU: But that can also get the best of us. That can also make us lose a lot of stuff. That’s what’s happening right now back home.

AJ: In Ethiopia. I can’t agree more.

EU: So there’s a double standard there.

AJ: What do you think Oromos in Minnesota will be like twenty years from now?

EU: Well, currently the census estimates them, what, close to twenty thousand?

AJ: Right now it’s forty thousand.

EU: I mean, close to forty thousand. In the next twenty years, believe me, it will double that, and it will increase Minnesota state’s everything, pretty much. In the next few years we will see a lot more doctors, more lawyers, more scientists. Now since our people are in oppression through education, I think every family in Oromia values education very well. They want their kids to be educated. They know education is the reason why they’re behind, why they’re treated like trash there. You will see huge changes and huge impact in general.

AJ: I see the same with education. For forty years successively, there was no Oromo education in Ethiopia, during the Haile Selassie leadership in Ethiopia. Since then, Oromo parents have been taking education really seriously. Is there anything else you would like to add?

EU: Overall, I just want to say thank you for doing an interview on me. I know my story is short, but there are greater stories than me that are out there. But this is a good start. This is a good thing to do in general—exposing one culture to other forms of societies is always a good thing. It teaches us to be more tolerant of each other and more aware of each other.

20 AJ: For sure, for sure. You should write that greater story. You’re a writer. Bring yourself back to writing.

EU: [Chuckles.] I’m not like I used to be. But right now I’m so much occupied with my personal life, education, and the organization that I work for, it will take me time. But I believe when I turn in the fifties and sixties, I may write a book. You never know.

AJ: Wonderful. Thank you so much, Ejero.

EU: Thank you.

AJ: Thank you. That’s the end to the Oromo oral history interview with the Minnesota Historical Society.

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