And I smiled, because mana barumsaa is never just a building. It’s the first place someone told you that your voice matters.
Barattoonni akka barumsa isaaniitti jabaatan kakaasa. walaloo mana barumsaa koo
Your school might have had a leaking roof during the rainy season ( bona ), forcing the class to huddle in the corner of the room. Yet, even the drip-drop of rainwater on a notebook became a rhythm for learning. The blackboard, faded to a chalky gray, was the horizon where teachers drew maps of distant worlds—Europe, Asia, the crater lakes of Ethiopia. And I smiled, because mana barumsaa is never just a building