Wednesday 9 October 2024
“As if doomed to it, I woke late” – Bealu Girma
Oromay by Bealu Girma is a powerful and haunting novel that reflects the profound turmoil in Ethiopia during the Red Star campaign of the 1980s, a major military and propaganda initiative by the Derg regime aimed at suppressing the Eritrean insurgency led by the Eritrean People’s Liberation Front (EPLF). The Red Star campaign was modelled on a concept developed by the French general André Beaufre, who pioneered the idea of a “total strategy”—the strategic use of force to achieve both psychological and military objectives, ultimately paving the way for political goals. “Algeria became his social laboratory”, wrote Ethiopian historian Gebru Tareke, later describing the operation as a brutal “military disaster.”
It heralded the weakening of Ethiopia’s position in the north, cost more than $2 billion according to a CIA estimate and tallied a hefty death toll. This is the backdrop against which this novel plays out.
Through the experiences of its protagonist, Tsegaye Hailemaryam, Oromay explores themes of love, loyalty, betrayal, war, and the disillusionment that follows the collapse of grand ideals in the twilight era of a particular strand of Ethiopian socialism. Girma’s narrative unfolds against a backdrop of personal and political conflict, drawing readers into a story that reflects both the internal and external struggles of a nation at war with itself.
In this review, we will examine Oromay in terms of its narrative structure, themes, character development, and how its imagery enhances the story without overwhelming it.
At its core, Oromay revolves around two intertwined storylines—one addressing the political realities of the Red Star campaign and the other exploring Tsegaye’s emotional journey, particularly his relationships with his fiance Roman Hilletewerq and his lover, Fiametta Gilay. This duality allows Girma to examine how the political climate of Ethiopia in the early 1980s infiltrates and corrupts every aspect of life, from personal relationships to national unity.
Tsegaye’s political role as chief propagandist for the Derg regime places him at the heart of the Red Star campaign, which sought to defeat the Eritrean People’s Liberation Front (EPLF) and secure Eritrea’s place within Ethiopia. His duties expose him to the horrors of war, but also to the hollowness of the revolutionary ideals he once believed in. The novel’s vivid depiction of the battle for Hill 1702, a pivotal moment in the campaign, serves as a turning point for Tsegaye. His initial idealism is shattered as he witnesses the brutal reality of war and realises the futility of the sacrifices being made. There are echoes of Arthur Koestler’s Rubashov in Tsegaye’s political journey, a man imprisoned by the very regime he helped create.
Parallel to this political journey is Tsegaye’s emotional struggle. He leaves Roman, his fiancée, in Addis Ababa when he travels to Asmara for his work on the campaign. Roman, representing the traditional Ethiopia of Tsegaye’s past, is steadfast in her values and disapproving of the constant campaigns plaguing the country. Her disapproval of the Derg regime’s relentless warfare mirrors Tsegaye’s own growing unease with the revolution he serves. Roman’s traditional values and her connection to Ethiopia’s heritage symbolise the country’s cultural and moral foundations, which Tsegaye gradually betrays as he becomes more entangled in the campaign and his personal conflicts.
In contrast to Roman, Fiametta Gilay, the northern rose, the Eritrean woman with whom Tsegaye falls in love during his time in Asmara, represents a more complex and chaotic aspect of Tsegaye’s journey. Fiametta is sensual, mysterious, and ultimately tragic. Their relationship reflects Tsegaye’s emotional turmoil and mirrors the political tensions between Ethiopia and Eritrea. Fiametta embodies the fragile hope for peace and unity, yet her relationship with Tsegaye is marked by betrayal and insecurity, much like the Derg’s relationship with Eritrea.
Fiametta’s eventual sacrifice—giving her life to save Tsegaye—parallels the senseless sacrifices made on the battlefield. Her death, like the deaths of countless soldiers, becomes a symbol of the futility of war and the disillusionment that follows the collapse of ideals. Tsegaye’s love for her, tainted by doubt and regret, mirrors his eventual loss of faith in the revolutionary cause.
A central theme of Oromay is disillusionment, both on a personal and political level. Tsegaye begins the novel as a dedicated servant of the Derg regime, firmly believing in its revolutionary ideals, which promise to bring unity and progress to Ethiopia. However, as the narrative unfolds, his experiences in Asmara and on the battlefield lead him to question these ideals. The Red Star campaign, intended to end the secessionist movement and secure Ethiopia’s territorial integrity, instead becomes a symbol of the regime’s moral and strategic failures.
This disillusionment is perhaps most vividly captured in the climactic battle for Hill 1702. Initially, Tsegaye is swept up in the fervour of the campaign, eager to witness the success of the military operation. Yet, the brutal reality of war soon shatters his idealism. The imagery used during the battle—scenes of bloodshed, the screams of dying soldiers, and the chaotic retreat—highlights the tragic futility of the cause. Tsegaye’s realisation that the soldiers have sacrificed their lives for nothing, that their deaths are ultimately in vain, marks his complete disillusionment with the revolutionary ideals he once upheld. Like Raskolnikov, in Dostoevsky’s Crime and Punishment, Tsegaye’s justifications collapse under the weight of his conscience. All that is left after is the icy desert of a reality shorn of any purpose.
An analysis of the imagery in Oromay underscores this point, particularly through the symbolic power of the Red Star. Intended to represent the revolutionary cause, the Red Star becomes a burden for Tsegaye. In one of the novel’s final and most poignant moments, he removes the Red Star from his chest and places it on Fiametta’s body after her death. This act symbolises his ultimate rejection of the revolution and his acknowledgment of the personal and political sacrifices that have brought him to this point of despair.
The word Oromay in Tigrinya means “it’s happened,” “it is finished,” or “it is over.” It encapsulates the finality of an event, evoking a sense of closure or an inescapable end. In Eritrean culture, the word is frequently used to signal the conclusion of significant moments, whether personal or political. It often carries emotional weight, tied to loss, resignation, or the acceptance of a situation that can no longer be changed.
In the novel, the term Oromay is deeply symbolic and appears throughout the narrative in various contexts, adding layers of meaning to the story. Eritreans use the word regularly, as the novel notes, stating that the people of Asmara say oromay “at least ten times a day.” This highlights how embedded the word is in the language and daily lives of the people, reflecting the inevitability of many aspects of their war-torn reality.
Within the novel, oromay also refers to a covert insurgent mission. The mission itself becomes critical to the plot, as Eritrean rebels thwart efforts during the Red Star campaign by the Ethiopian military as they attack it and sabotage its economic infrastructure. As the novel progresses, the mission’s symbolic weight grows, with the term oromay representing not only the insurgents’ desperate struggle but also the broader political and emotional losses experienced by the characters.
The name reverberates through the personal lives of the characters as well. For Tsegaye, the protagonist, oromay becomes intertwined with his emotional journey, particularly as he navigates his complex relationships with Roman and Fiametta. As he grapples with his disillusionment with the Ethiopian regime and the war, oromay takes on a personal dimension, symbolising the inevitable end of his romantic and ideological beliefs. His love for Fiametta, much like the insurgent mission, carries an undercurrent of inevitability and impending loss.
Thus, oromay operates on multiple levels throughout the novel. It signifies not only the end of a military campaign or the failure of political ideals but also the conclusion of personal dreams and relationships. In all its forms, oromay haunts the narrative, serving as a constant reminder that certain things are destined to end, no matter how hard one fights against them.
In oromay, Bealu Girma employs a unique narrative device: a narrator who intermittently appears and disappears throughout the story, providing commentary and insight beyond the main character’s perspective. This narrator is omniscient and self-aware, introducing himself in the prologue as someone who knows Tsegaye “better than he knows himself,” yet never revealing a clear identity. His sporadic appearances align with postmodern narrative techniques that blur the lines between author and character, allowing him to function as both an observer and a participant in the story.
The narrator’s presence suggests a higher level of control over the narrative, inviting the reader to reflect on the role of storytelling and the power dynamics between narrator, characters, and audience. By having the narrator vanish and reappear, Girma reminds readers of the text’s artificiality, challenging traditional boundaries between fiction and reality.
Tsegaye Hailemaryam is the tragic protagonist of Oromay, a man torn between his loyalty to the state, his personal desires, and his growing awareness of the moral contradictions of the regime he serves, all while dreaming of what he treasures most but has never had in his life: peace. Girma portrays Tsegaye as an intelligent and introspective character whose internal conflict deepens as the novel progresses.
In his relationship with Roman, we see Tsegaye’s struggle to reconcile his personal values with the demands of his political role. Roman’s traditionalism and moral clarity stand in stark contrast to the novel and increasingly chaotic world that Tsegaye inhabits. Her eventual rejection of him symbolises his complete break from the traditional Ethiopian values he once held dear.
Fiametta, on the other hand, represents both the allure and danger of what is novel and the hope for a better way of life. Her love for Tsegaye is passionate but fraught with uncertainty and betrayal, much like the political situation in Eritrea. Fiametta’s tragic death, which occurs as a result of her involvement in the conflict, serves as a devastating metaphor for Tsegaye’s own internal collapse. Like Ethiopia, he becomes unmoored from his traditions but fails to find a safe landing in the new ideas sweeping the nation. “In the end man is alone; he is lonely. He feels loneliness. His heart sings a sad lament,” writes Girma.
By the end of the novel, Tsegaye is a man stripped of everything—his ideals, his relationships, and his sense of self. He is left standing alone, caught between the memories of Roman and Fiametta, with nothing but the echoes of war and loss to keep him company. In some ways, he becomes an avatar of the Ethiopian man as he ventures into the postmodern era.
While the novel’s political and emotional themes drive the narrative, Girma’s use of imagery adds depth and complexity to the story. For example, the recurring imagery of the Red Star, the battle scenes, and even small details like Roman’s engagement ring emphasise the personal and political sacrifices made throughout the novel.
One of the most powerful images in the novel is the setting sun at its conclusion. As Tsegaye stands at Fiametta’s grave, the horizon is described as “red,” symbolising both the bloodshed of the conflict and the end of his personal and ideological journey. In contrast to the misty and ambiguous morning with which the story began, the setting sun reflects the futility of Tsegaye’s hopes, the finality of his disillusionment, and the clarity to see the truth. He whispers, “Ciao, Fiametta”, marking his farewell not only to Fiametta but to everything he once believed in.
Oromay is more than just a political novel; it is a deeply personal exploration of the cost of war and the fragility of human ideals. Through Tsegaye’s journey, Bealu Girma examines how grand political ideologies can be shattered by the brutal realities of conflict. The novel’s dual narrative—of love and war—allows Girma to explore how the political and the personal are inextricably linked and how both can lead to disillusionment.
With its rich character development, thematic complexity, and evocative imagery, Oromay stands as one of Ethiopia’s most significant literary works. It is a novel that speaks not only to the specific historical moment of the Red Star campaign but also to the universal human experience of loss, betrayal, and the search for meaning in a world that often denies it.