Renthia Kaimbi
Twenty of Namibia’s most vulnerable children are being raised, educated and healed at Jonah Home in Walvis Bay, yet financial unsustainability and the increasing inability to meet the children’s demands have placed orderly routines and the caregivers’ quiet dedication under strain.
The home currently faces a monthly funding shortfall exceeding N$43,000, a deficit that threatens its ability to provide even the most basic necessities.
The registered children’s home has been operating under the National Welfare Act since 2011 and fields calls almost daily from state social workers seeking placement for children who have nowhere else to go.
Director Siphokazi Kangowa told the Windhoek Observer referrals do not come only from Erongo Region but from Oshikoto, Kavango, Karas and other distant parts of the country.
This, she said, indicates that the state’s own child protection infrastructure is overstretched. Yet Jonah Home, with a capacity of just twenty beds, has become a de facto national repository for cases of abandonment, abuse and neglect.
Each child who arrives brings with them a complex web of needs that extend far beyond food and shelter. Many lack birth certificates, rendering them legally invisible and ineligible for state grants or school enrollment until costly and time-consuming legal processes are completed. Others, she stated, require intensive medical care, psychological support, or both.
Infrastructure at the facility is also deteriorating. Security upgrades, plumbing repairs, replacement of worn bedding, and the expansion of safe recreational spaces remain unfunded.
The home’s financial records show that without immediate intervention, it will be forced to reduce services or turn away children, a prospect Kangowa described as “unthinkable.”
While the home has secured support from a number of corporate partners, including Salt Waters, OK Grocer, Corridor Logistics, Welwitschia Hospital, Namport, Namdock and others, these contributions, though generous, are often once-off and tied to specific items rather than general operating costs.
She said Jose Luis Bastos, a local businessman, provides sustained support for utilities, fuel and staff salaries, effectively underwriting the home’s most critical recurring expenses. The reliance on a single major donor raises concerns about long-term viability.
“Mr Bastos is 90% the reason why we are still operating. Without him, we might as well close doors,” she said.
Kangowa is adamant that child welfare cannot remain the burden of one small organisation. “It is a responsibility we all share as a nation,” she states, a pointed reminder that Namibia’s constitution and its international obligations mandate state protection for children in distress.
Yet the home receives no consistent government subsidy, placing it in the precarious position of delivering a public service without public funding.
The home operates a monthly N$100 donation drive to encourage grassroots participation, accepting contributions via bank wallet at 081 816 1910 or through Healing Ministries, Bank Windhoek (Walvis Bay), account 8003442886, branch code 481-872.
But Kangowa emphasises that these individual gifts, while appreciated, cannot compensate for the structural funding gap that places the home’s future – and the children’s futures – at risk.
As Namibia faces rising rates of poverty, substance abuse and family disintegration, the demand for places like Jonah Home will only increase.
The question, Kangowa suggests, is whether the nation will wait until another child is abandoned, another infant goes without formula, another toddler arrives malnourished and tubercular, before it decides that these children are, in fact, everyone’s responsibility.
“It is a responsibility we all share as a nation,” she said.
