There are few questions more embarrassing for a nation than this one: “Helao who?”
Yet that is precisely the question young Namibians may increasingly ask when the name Helao Shityuwete is mentioned. And if they do, the failure is not theirs alone. It is ours.
It is the failure of a country that has not done enough to tell its own story. It is the failure of an education system that too often reduces the liberation struggle to a list of dates, names and political slogans. It is the failure of a generation of leaders, institutions and citizens who have allowed some of the most remarkable chapters of Namibia’s history to fade into obscurity.
Helao Joseph Shityuwete died on 29 August 2026, only days after celebrating his 92nd birthday. His death came just three days after Namibia commemorated Heroes’ Day. The timing is almost poetic. As the nation remembered those who sacrificed for freedom, one of those very men quietly departed this world.
And yet, how many Namibians under 30 could tell us who he was?
Shityuwete was not simply an elderly former political prisoner. He was one of the men who paid an extraordinary personal price for the freedom that many Namibians today take for granted.
He belonged to that generation that confronted a brutal colonial and apartheid system when doing so could cost a person his freedom, his livelihood, his family and even his life.
He became a prisoner on Robben Island, that notorious prison where South Africa’s apartheid regime confined political opponents and liberation activists. To have been imprisoned there was to have one’s life interrupted by a system determined to crush the human spirit.
But the significance of Shityuwete’s story lies not merely in the fact that he went to prison.
It lies in what he did with the life that remained after prison.
He did not emerge from incarceration consumed by bitterness. He continued serving his country. He became an advocate for workers’ rights and used his writing to speak about the dignity of working people. He understood something that remains profoundly relevant today: political independence means little if ordinary citizens remain economically marginalised, exploited or treated without dignity.
That is an important part of Shityuwete’s legacy.
The liberation struggle was never supposed to be merely about replacing one political administration with another. It was about restoring human dignity. It was about creating a society in which Namibians could determine their own destiny and enjoy justice, opportunity and respect.
Shityuwete understood that independence was a continuing responsibility.
This is why his story must not be confined to an obituary.
It must become part of the national conversation.
President Netumbo Nandi-Ndaitwah rightly described Shityuwete as a courageous patriot whose life was characterised by sacrifice, resilience and an unwavering commitment to Namibia’s liberation. She described him as a lifelong champion of the dignity and rights of workers.
Those words should not simply be printed in newspapers and forgotten after the funeral.
They should be taught.
They should be discussed in classrooms. They should be recorded in documentaries. They should be preserved in archives. They should be brought alive through radio, television, podcasts, books, theatre and public exhibitions.
Because a country that forgets the people who built its freedom eventually forgets the value of freedom itself.
There is an uncomfortable irony in Namibia today.
We have become increasingly sophisticated at celebrating political anniversaries, staging commemorations and delivering speeches about our liberation history. We erect monuments and rename streets. We gather at Heroes’ Acre and remember the dead.
But remembrance cannot simply be ceremonial.
A young Namibian should know why Helao Shityuwete mattered.
They should know that before independence there were men and women who could not simply post their political opinions on social media. They could not vote for the government they wanted. They could not freely organise against an oppressive system. They faced surveillance, detention, imprisonment and exile.
They should know that freedom was not delivered to Namibia by accident.
Someone paid for it.
Shityuwete was one of those people.
And perhaps that is why the question “Helao who?” should trouble us.
Because behind that question is a much bigger one: What have we done to ensure that the sacrifices of our past remain meaningful to the generations of tomorrow?
We cannot expect young Namibians to automatically know their history. Historical consciousness does not happen by osmosis. It must be deliberately cultivated.
The stories of people like Shityuwete must therefore be rescued from the margins of national memory.
We need a serious national project to document the liberation generation before its last witnesses are gone. Oral histories must be recorded. Personal papers must be preserved. Interviews must be digitised. Schools must make greater use of first-hand testimony. Broadcasters and publishers must tell these stories in ways that young people actually consume.
And importantly, we must tell the whole story.
Honouring liberation heroes does not require us to turn them into saints. It requires us to understand them as human beings who made choices under extraordinary circumstances, confronted extraordinary injustice and contributed to the making of the Namibia we inherited.
Shityuwete’s death should therefore be more than another passing headline.
It should be a national wake-up call.
The generation that fought for independence is disappearing. With every passing year, we lose another living library of Namibia’s history.
When they are gone, we will have books, photographs, monuments and official records. But there is something irreplaceable about hearing history from the mouths of those who lived it.
Helao Shityuwete has now joined that growing number of Namibian heroes whose voices we can no longer hear.
Our responsibility is to make sure his story is not silenced.
So, to the young Namibian who asks, “Helao who?”
The answer should be simple.
Helao Shityuwete was one of the sons of Namibia who helped make your freedom possible.
He sacrificed his youth. He endured imprisonment. He stood for workers. He continued serving his country long after the flags were raised and independence was achieved.
You may not know his name today.
But you should.
And we, as a nation, have a duty to make sure that tomorrow’s generation does.
