Lazarus Kwedhi
Namibia marked 36 years of political independence in 1990. That victory was not gifted. It was paid for in blood, torture, exile, prison, and the silence of unmarked graves. Without that struggle, there is no Constitution, no vote, no Namibia.
Gratitude for that is non-negotiable. That is why we have monuments, Independence Day, Heroes’ Day, and commemorations for the Genocide, Cassinga, and the Oshakati Bank bomb blast.
They exist to remind us of our nation’s vulnerability under colonialism and apartheid rule, and of the work we must still do so it never happens again.
But gratitude cannot be a gag. From all four corners and the centre of the country, the same question keeps rising: if we are free, why does freedom still feel incomplete?
The Oshiwambo proverb “Mpa lya tuka opo lya nambele” says it plainly. The rope was cut, but tied again in the same place. The change came, but the problem did not leave.
The weight on households, 36 years on
The numbers and the lived reality align. Unemployment sits above 30 percent, and above 60 percent among youth. Inflation and interest rates squeeze working families, and many households have no income at all.
Pensioners and grant recipients often carry three generations on one payout: children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren.
Graduates go door to door to hand in their CVs in vain, and travel town to town for interviews, returning home with little more than bus fare. At traffic lights, able-bodied men and children beg.
Some women enter survival sex work to feed their children. Veterans of the liberation struggle, and even those who served under apartheid, still wait for the recognition and reintegration that was promised and demand what is due to them.
Grants and drought relief are lifelines, and they must remain so. The danger is when they become the main household economy for decades, or when “we will increase grants” becomes the central campaign line.
That turns safety nets into political currency. It mirrors a colonial habit: small, selective payouts to buy legitimacy while the structure of exclusion stays intact.
The chameleon skin: white suit, black suit
Colonialism wore a “white suit.” It was direct: land dispossession through war and genocide, Bantu education, pass laws, and force.
Apartheid sharpened it with racial laws that kept the majority poor and divided while a minority controlled land, capital, and jobs. The enemy had a face, a law, and a uniform. Namibians united and removed it in 1990.
After 1990, colonialism reshaped itself into neocolonialism. It changed the suit to black. The body inside did not change. This is the chameleon effect.
It changed the colour for self-defence and adapts to a new environment, but the predator underneath stays the same.
We inherited a state and the habits of the old system: centralised power, slow economic transformation for the majority, gatekeeping around tenders and land dispossession, and systems that still marginalise large sections of society.
The binaries changed shape. White versus black became rich versus poor. Forced removals of land became town proclamations and extensions into communal land for minimal compensation.
The Red Line’s movement controls became a rural-to-urban migration crisis, foot-and-mouth restrictions, and market pressure. Contract labour, “Okaholo,” became labour-hire companies. Compounds for contract labourers became shacks, informal settlements, and backyard rentals.
Forced labour became unemployment. “Meneer” became “VIP.” Jobs for settlers became jobs for comrades. Afrikaans in schools became English. War and genocide deaths became deaths from hunger, poverty, disease, alcohol, drugs, and road accidents.
Whites-only bread became bread you cannot afford. The fight between Koevoet and PLAN became the fight between political party colours and tribes.
Colonialism was easy to identify and name because it had a foreign face and language. Today, the electorate and general public cannot say who is failing them because their leaders are pointing fingers at Germans and Boers, yet colonialism has not moved an inch.
Colonialism and apartheid reshaped themselves. They now speak local languages, share local history, but the pattern of exclusion remains. As we say, “Ta shili ekunde, omekunde shili.” The problem is the system and ourselves.
Mahmood Mamdani warned in When Victims Become Killers that if institutions are not transformed, new leaders can occupy old colonial structures and reproduce the same exclusions, exploitation, and divide-and-rule tactics. As such, “Kasiperi iilongasha.” We did not learn anything from the history book.
It is about institutions, not just individuals
The problem is not only who wears the suit. It is the suit’s stitching – the rules, incentives, and accountability gaps that govern institutions. If you swim in a muddy pond in white clothes, you will come out dirty no matter how many times you change.
Elections produce new leaders, but without dismantling the colonial structures and laws, there is no fundamental change.
When state resources are used to consolidate elite power instead of serving the public, the system reproduces itself regardless of the faces at the top.
Economic liberation requires first the decolonisation of the mind – more than slogans and blame-shifting politics. It requires public policy literacy over patronage, open institutions with public dashboards for EPL, fishing quotas, tenders and spending, merit and accountability through audits and performance contracts, and economic spread through SMEs, land, housing, and finance access outside political networks.
A call to youth: Be the new seeds
The liberation generation played its part. Namibia now needs new seeds – youth and academics with critical thinking, honesty, hard work, and unity – to lead a decolonisation of the mind revolution.
Independence was meant to give dignity to every Namibian, not only those near power.
To the youth: do not settle for being spectators or believe in political slogans like “youth, you are future leaders.” Read the budget and attend council meetings.
Track tenders in your town. Ask why resettlement, EPL, and fishing quotas lists are not public. Build businesses, cooperatives, and skills that do not depend on a political signature.
Organise yourself across party colours, church lines, and regions. Your struggle will not be fought with guns or tribes. It will be fought with ideas, data, and an open mind toward decolonisation of the mind, an inclusive economy, and incentives toward innovation and performance of public institutions.
If you stay outside the room, others will write the rules of the room for you to enter it.
A call to Parliament: Clean the pond
To Parliament: you were elected to dismantle the colonial and apartheid habits and laws of exclusion, exploitation, and divide-and-rule upon which public institutions were founded, not only to represent the new faces of colonialism and apartheid rule.
Pass and enforce laws that protect customary land rights and pay market price to landowners at the proclamation of towns or extension of town boundaries.
Provide incentives to farmers to make land productive for food security and employment opportunities, as well as incentives for innovation in both public and private institutions. Pass and enforce laws that make transparency the default.
Publish a live public dashboard for all national and municipal tenders, resettlement allocations, and constituency development spending.
Make performance contracts binding for ministers, CEOs of state entities, and regional governors, with clear targets and published audits. Create recall mechanisms so citizens can hold non-performing representatives to account between elections.
De-risk the real economy. Open land and finance to young farmers, manufacturers, and tech founders without requiring political connections.
Reform labour-hire practices that trap workers in precarity. Replace grant dependence with work, skills, and markets. Protect the Constitution’s promise of expression so that constructive criticism is treated as patriotism, not betrayal.
Conclusion
If inequality continues, the majority risk becoming double or triple victims of the white suit, the black suit, and any future “brown suit” that repeats the same pattern. The colour of the suit matters less than whether the body of the nation is equal and free.
Strip away the colonialism and apartheid chameleon skin. Fix the stitching. Make 1990 what it was meant to be: the start of a Namibia where freedom is lived daily, not only remembered once a year, where people chant the same song for 36 years of independence.
