A GIRL FROM EHOMBA MOUNTAIN WHO WANTS TO ACHIEVE SOMETHING

A GIRL FROM EHOMBA MOUNTAIN 

 CHAPTER ONE

A GIRL FROM EHOMBA MOUNTAIN WHO WANTS TO ACHIEVE SOMETHING

From the Mountain to the City Lights

The time of being told, “Wake up and go to school,” had finally come to an end. I had just completed Grade Twelve. I was overjoyed. But my happiness was not the same as everyone else’s.

Some of my classmates were simply relieved that school was over. Even those who had failed did not seem to care. They were ready to work anywhere they could find a job,  in a chin shop, in a bar, or any place that would give them money for food. For some of them, life was only about being seen in bars. As long as they were drunk, they felt satisfied.

Other learners came from wealthy families. They already had plans. Some expected to inherit their parents’ properties one day. The boys used to talk about this during lunch breaks or after school. I only listened quietly. I did not have much to say. Between lessons, I would hear them talking about Okabush-Kovahimba and Herero Mall. To me, those sounded like big and exciting places in Windhoek. They also talked about going to UNAM and NUST the following year, the biggest universities in Namibia.

The boys who liked fashionable girls did not pay attention to me. I had no beautiful clothes. I owned only one pair of jeans from a China shop next to Pep Store in Opuwo, and my school uniform. Most days, I wore my uniform so that people would not notice that I had only one pair of jeans.

In our class, there was a boy named Tukondja, also known as Tux. I had a secret crush on him, but he never knew. He dressed very well and always had nice things. Maybe he was one of those boys from a rich family.

But let me tell you why I was truly happy.

I was happy because something I had been waiting for all my life was finally close. I wanted to become a certified lawyer. I did not just want it, I needed it. I was preparing myself for the real world, and in my heart, I believed I was read.

I am a girl from Ehomba Mountain, also known as Ondundu ya Homba or Ohaikororo, on the outskirts of Omuzenga. If you visit that place, you may feel as if you have entered another world, a world where technology is not everywhere.

There was a small shop owned by Mr. Makinhu called Cuka shop. It had a television. That was where we used to watch Kizomba movies. I once saw an Angolan lady dancing Kizomba, and I admired her. I loved watching Kizomba because we live so close to the Namibian border that sometimes I feel as if I am in Angola.

I come from a poor family. In one of the Kizomba songs, there was a girl who reminded me of myself. She was more beautiful than I was, but she was also poor. That girl gave me hope.

In August, during the second term, I wrote my final examinations. I studied very hard. When the results came out, I had 40 points. I was admitted to study Bachelor of Laws (Honours) at the University of Namibia.

I was accepted at UNAM, the largest university in Namibia.

I was going to the city of lights.

All I could think about was success. I believed in my brain. I believed in my hard work.

Mrs. Kapika, my English teacher, was a humble woman who feared God. She helped me a lot because I was good at English. I did not have money to make copies of my documents for applications, but she helped me fill in many forms. Without her, I would not have made it this far.

January arrived, and with it came challenges.

One evening, I was sitting outside with my younger brothers and sisters at pomaṱiwa. For us, pomaṱiwa is the outdoor kitchen, an open space where we cook. I was preparing food when my mother joined me.

She was happy that I was going to Windhoek,  a city she had heard about but had never visited.

She said,
“You will stay in Windhoek with a lady named Ngarii. I heard through Kutjee that she lives in Pioneers Park. I want to warn you: do not misbehave in other people’s houses. I also heard that UNAM is nearby. What I want from you is to read a lot.”

She spoke for a long time about being a good girl in Windhoek.

But in my mind, I was already seeing the city of lights. I was finally leaving the village and Opuwo, the dusty and rocky town. I wanted something new. Something fresh.

The next day, it was pension day for elderly people. My mother asked me to go and sell wild food from our mountain. It was good food, natural food from Ehomba.

As I thought about what my mother had said, that I would be staying with Ms. Ngarii, I felt uneasy. The last time I saw her was when she came to Ehomba for a political campaign. She and my mother did not seem to understand each other well. I remember she was driving a Jeep.

My mother told me that Ngarii was her younger sister, which made her my aunt. But they did not grow up together. I did not speak much to her that day because she was busy with politics.

Later, I heard that she had married a well-known businessman who paid for her degree. But their marriage did not last. They divorced.

How would she treat me?

My cousin Vemuu came to visit us during the holiday. She loved talking,  and she told me everything about Windhoek.

I called it the city of lights.

She called it the city of honey and milk, a city where everything a human being needs can be found.

I asked her about my aunt Ngarii because she had once stayed with her during her first year at UNAM.

My cousin was very kind, but also very funny. She told me her own story. She had never met her father. He left for work when she was only one month old. Up to this day, they have never met. People say he married another woman in Khorixas and never returned to Okanguati.

Her mother, my mother’s older sister, died when my cousin was still young. My mother raised her. Even though she was three years older than me, I saw her as my elder sister.

She was now a third-year student at the University of Namibia studying Accounting.

She dressed beautifully. She wore expensive clothes with big names. She had an iPhone 13 Pro Max. I was sure she would help me once I reached Windhoek.

My mother used to call her Ndjona-Top, which means “the lamp on top.” She always shone brightly.

She wore Brazilian hair, 24 inches long. I once thought she had a rich boyfriend because she always looked expensive. But she told me she was the chief accountant at Tereka Trading CC and also the personal secretary to the Managing Director. He was much older than her, but he paid her well.

Then she told me something that confused me.

“You can get everything you want,” she said, “if you do a small favour.”

I did not ask her what that favour meant.

My cousin worked hard at home whenever she visited. My mother loved her very much. I saw her as the firstborn of our family. She had worked hard to reach where she was.

But even for her, life was not always easy. If things did not go well with Aunt Ngarii, she would have to look for another place to stay.

She was my mentor.

She would guide me in Windhoek.

I was excited.

But deep inside, I was also afraid.

What if Aunt Ngarii mistreated me?

 

The End of Chapter One

Wait for Part Two as A GIRL FROM EHOMBA MOUNTAIN WHO WANTS TO ACHIEVE SOMETHING continues…

From Otuzemba to Enterprise: The Fortunato Brothers’ Journey of Vision, Hard Work, and Community Building

 

Brown Fortunato and Antony Fortunato 

From Otuzemba to Enterprise: The Fortunato Brothers’ Journey of Vision, Hard Work, and Community Building

Introduction
Otuzemba location in Opuwo town is a community shaped by diversity, resilience, and shared survival. It is a place where children from different tribes of the Kunene Region grow up side by side, learning early lessons of coexistence, tolerance, and adaptation. Life in Otuzemba is modest and often challenging, yet it is rich in human interaction, dusty playgrounds become meeting points of friendship, and simple games become spaces where character is formed. Like many boys raised in Otuzemba, two brothers grew up immersed in this environment, playing with their peers without any clear sense of what the future might hold. Their childhood mirrored that of countless others in the location, full of innocence, uncertainty, and hope shaped more by circumstance than by long-term vision.

Their story, therefore, is not unique in its beginnings. It is a familiar narrative to many who have grown up in township settings across Namibia. However, what distinguishes this story is not where it started, but where it has led. From the same environment that produces many untold struggles emerged two brothers whose journey reflects purpose, discipline, and foresight. As a Himbacracy Philosopher and an academic, I find it both necessary and inspiring to document and reflect on the journey of Antony Fortunato and Brown Fortunato. Their lived experience demonstrates how shared origins, when combined with vision and determination, can give rise to enterprises that not only transform individual lives but also serve communities and extend their impact beyond local boundaries.

This reflection is written not merely to praise success, but to affirm a deeper principle of Himbacracy Philosophy: that people who grow up together, understand one another’s backgrounds, and share collective memory are uniquely positioned to uplift one another and build sustainable futures. The journey of the Fortunato brothers stands as a reminder that greatness can emerge from ordinary beginnings, and that township-born dreams, when nurtured with commitment and unity, can evolve into legacies of service, inspiration, and community development.

Growing Up in Otuzemba

Antony Fortunato and Brown Fortunato were raised in Otuzemba location like many other boys of their generation, sharing laughter, hardship, and the everyday realities of township life. Their childhood was marked by simplicity rather than certainty. There were no guarantees of success, no clear roadmap pointing toward entrepreneurship, and no assurance that life would offer opportunities beyond survival. Like many young people in Otuzemba, they grew up navigating limited resources, observing the struggles of adults around them, and learning early lessons about resilience and responsibility.

What distinguished their upbringing was not privilege, but shared identity and shared experience. Growing up together in the same environment nurtured a strong bond between the brothers and instilled in them a deep understanding of cooperation, mutual support, and collective progress. Otuzemba was not only a place of residence; it was a social classroom where values such as respect, perseverance, and community solidarity were learned informally through daily interaction. The location shaped their worldview, grounded their ambitions, and gave them an intimate understanding of what it means to belong to a community that depends on one another for survival and growth.

In this sense, Otuzemba did more than raise the Fortunato brothers, it prepared them. It instilled in them an awareness that limited material resources do not equate to limited potential. The environment taught them to value hard work, to recognise the importance of relationships, and to appreciate the power of collective effort. These early experiences later became the foundation upon which their entrepreneurial mindset was built, proving that even in spaces marked by scarcity, vision and possibility can take root and grow.

Different Paths, One Vision

As life unfolded, the two brothers followed different professional paths shaped by circumstance and personal choice, one entering the disciplined life of a soldier, the other pursuing a civilian career. Although their occupations differed, their bond remained intact, strengthened by a shared upbringing and a common desire for progress. Each path exposed them to different forms of responsibility, structure, and problem-solving, quietly equipping them with complementary skills that would later prove invaluable.

Despite these different careers, fate presented them with a rare and life-changing opportunity: the chance to travel abroad. This exposure became a turning point in their journey. Outside Namibia, they encountered the hospitality industry in a completely new light, experiencing professional standards, quality service delivery, customer care, and well-planned infrastructure that were largely absent in their hometown of Opuwo at the time. These experiences did more than impress them; they challenged their thinking and expanded their sense of what was possible.

Rather than merely admiring these developments from a distance, the brothers engaged in deep reflection. They began to imagine how such standards could be adapted to their own local context. A powerful and transformative question emerged: Why not bring this home? That question marked the birth of a shared vision. It reflected not only ambition, but a sense of responsibility toward their community, a belief that exposure to the outside world should translate into local development. From that moment, their different paths converged into one vision: to use what they had learned beyond Namibia’s borders to create something meaningful, sustainable, and impactful in Opuwo.

Turning a Dream into Reality

With discipline, patience, and unwavering determination, the brothers began transforming their shared vision into a practical plan. They did not rely on shortcuts or external handouts; instead, they committed themselves to saving consistently from their salaries, investing in farming activities, and growing a small but purposeful construction business. Every effort, no matter how modest, was guided by a long-term goal. Step by step, they converted ideas into action, understanding that meaningful success is built gradually through sacrifice and persistence.

Their dream eventually materialised in the form of a guesthouse built in their hometown of Opuwo, an establishment rooted in local knowledge, yet inspired by the global standards they had observed abroad. This development was not only a personal milestone but also a statement of belief in their community. The guesthouse, now known as Casa Emilia Guesthouse, stands as a symbol of what is possible when vision meets commitment and when local spaces are reimagined through exposure and innovation.

Alongside the hospitality venture, the brothers expanded their footprint in construction and industrial services through Fortunato Engineering CC and Brothers Industries CC. These enterprises reflect their understanding of local infrastructure needs and their desire to contribute to sustainable development. Together, these ventures represent more than business success, they reflect a conscious decision to reinvest knowledge, resources, and skills back into the community that shaped them, turning a once-distant dream into a lasting local reality.

Creating Opportunities, Not Just Buildings

What makes the Fortunato brothers’ story truly powerful is not only the physical infrastructure they have developed, but the human opportunities that have emerged from their vision. While buildings can be seen and measured, the impact of employment, skills development, and dignity of work runs far deeper. Through their businesses, the brothers have consciously chosen to create pathways for others, recognising that true development is people-centred.

Their enterprises currently provide permanent employment to six young people and part-time work to four others. In the context of the Kunene Region, where unemployment and limited economic opportunities remain persistent challenges, this contribution is both practical and deeply meaningful. For the individuals employed, these opportunities represent more than income; they offer stability, work experience, and the confidence that comes with being productive members of society.

Beyond job creation, their businesses serve a wide spectrum of people, including travellers, local residents, and institutions. At the same time, they reinvest their efforts into building local capacity by trusting, mentoring, and empowering community members. In doing so, the Fortunato brothers demonstrate that entrepreneurship is not merely about profit, but about social responsibility. Their work reflects an understanding that sustainable development is achieved when communities grow together, when infrastructure and human capital advance hand in hand.

A Living Example of Himbacracy Philosophy

From a Himbacracy philosophical perspective, the journey of the Fortunato brothers powerfully illustrates the principle that progress is strongest when it is collective rather than individual. Their story challenges the notion that success must be pursued in isolation and instead affirms the value of unity, shared vision, and mutual trust. By working together as brothers, they demonstrate that collaboration rooted in shared history and values can produce outcomes that are both sustainable and socially meaningful.

Their experience further shows that people who grow up in the same location, who understand one another’s backgrounds, struggles, and social realities, are uniquely positioned to support and uplift each other. The Fortunato brothers are not outsiders imposing solutions on a community; they are products of that very environment. Because they understand the lived realities of Otuzemba and Opuwo, they are able to design and build infrastructure that responds to real needs rather than abstract ideas of development. In this sense, their success becomes a shared achievement, one that the community can recognise, claim, and celebrate with pride.

Himbacracy Philosophy emphasises recognition and celebration of local excellence as a foundation for collective growth. The Fortunato brothers embody this principle by proving that local success can serve as a bridge rather than a barrier. While firmly rooted in their community, their impact extends beyond Opuwo to other towns and villages across Namibia. Their journey reminds us that when development is led by those who know the community from within, it becomes inclusive, respectful, and transformative, benefiting not only the present generation, but those yet to come.

Conclusion: Building a Legacy Beyond Self

Even while holding full-time jobs, Antony Fortunato and Brown Fortunato continue to pursue side ventures in construction, farming, and hospitality. Their journey demonstrates that vision, hard work, and persistence can coexist with service and humility. Rather than allowing professional commitments to limit their aspirations, they have used discipline and strategic thinking to expand their impact beyond individual careers.

More importantly, their story shows that success does not require abandoning one’s roots, it can grow directly from them. The brothers remained grounded in the values and experiences shaped by Otuzemba location, using those foundations as a source of strength rather than something to escape. Their achievements stand as evidence that local identity and global exposure can work together to create meaningful, sustainable development.

From Otuzemba location to enterprise ownership, the Fortunato brothers are not merely building businesses; they are building a legacy. A legacy that inspires others to dream beyond circumstance, to collaborate rather than compete destructively, and to believe that community-based success is both possible and powerful. Their journey affirms a central truth of Himbacracy Philosophy: when individuals rise with their community in mind, progress becomes shared, lasting, and transformative.

 

 

Kunene Region at a Crossroads: A Himbacracy Reflection on Grade 11 Performance and the Way Forward

 

Kunene Region at a Crossroads: A Himbacracy Reflection on Grade 11 Performance and the Way Forward

The Grade 11 performance results for the 2025 academic year in the Kunene Region present a sobering but necessary moment of reflection. With a total of 1,096 learners enrolled across the region and only 248 learners, representing 23%, achieving the minimum requirement of three Cs, the results highlight deep-rooted structural challenges within the regional education system. These outcomes should not be interpreted merely as a measure of learner ability, but rather as an indicator of systemic pressures related to access, resourcing, admission practices, and learner preparedness. From a Himbacracy philosophical perspective, education outcomes must be understood within their social, cultural, and temporal contexts.

A closer examination of individual school performance reveals clear patterns. Schools such as Kamanjab Combined School and Braunfels Agricultural High School performed relatively well, achieving 66% and 55% respectively. These schools have smaller learner populations and, in the case of Braunfels, a specialised institutional focus that aligns learners with structured academic and vocational expectations. Their performance suggests that manageable enrolment numbers, focused curricula, and clearer admission pathways contribute positively to learner success. These schools demonstrate that when learners are placed in environments that match their academic readiness and interests, improved outcomes are possible.

Several schools recorded mid-range performance, with results between 40% and 44%. Institutions such as Puutuavanga Secondary School, Outjo Secondary School, Omuhonga Combined School, and Okanguati Combined School serve large and diverse catchment areas and often admit learners with varying academic backgrounds. These schools carry the dual burden of accessibility and inclusivity, frequently absorbing learners through automatic progression systems without sufficient remedial support. Their performance reflects effort under constrained conditions rather than a lack of commitment or competence.

The most concerning trend emerges from schools with very high enrolment figures and extremely low performance outcomes. Schools such as Cornelius Goreseb Secondary School, Alpha Combined School, Musaño Combined School, and Kaoko-Otavi Combined School each enrolled large numbers of learners yet recorded percentages ranging from 1% to 21%. These figures raise critical questions about class size, teacher workload, learner support mechanisms, and the effectiveness of uniform admission criteria across vastly different contexts. Large enrolments without proportional increases in infrastructure and human resources inevitably undermine teaching quality and learner performance.

Admission criteria across the region remain a silent but significant factor influencing these outcomes. Many schools operate under open or compulsory admission policies driven by geography, limited school availability, and socio-economic realities. While inclusive access to education is both constitutionally and morally imperative, equal access does not automatically translate into equal outcomes. Without differentiated pathways, bridging programmes, and early academic profiling, learners with diverse abilities are expected to meet uniform academic benchmarks, often to their disadvantage.

The Himbacracy philosophy emphasises that individuals should not be judged by comparison with others, but by their growth over time. However, time alone cannot compensate for structural imbalance. The current results indicate that Kunene is running a single academic race with learners who begin from vastly different starting points. Without adaptive systems that recognise these differences, many learners are left behind despite their potential.

Looking forward, the Kunene Region requires a bold and strategic intervention. The establishment of one fully resourced Regional School of Excellence would allow the nurturing of high-performing and high-potential learners from across all circuits. Such a school, equipped with strong leadership, qualified teachers, adequate boarding facilities, and modern learning resources, would not promote elitism but rather serve as an investment in future regional professionals and leaders who can later contribute to local development.

Equally important is the creation of a dedicated pre-vocational or vocational secondary school within the region. Not all learners thrive within academically rigid frameworks, and many possess practical talents better suited to technical, agricultural, and entrepreneurial pathways. A vocationally oriented school would restore learner dignity, reduce academic congestion in mainstream schools, and align education with the economic realities and labour needs of the region.

In addition, enrolment patterns must be rebalanced, with high-density schools prioritised for additional teachers, learner support programmes, and infrastructural expansion. A regional review of admission policies is also necessary, focusing on early identification of learner strengths, strengthened foundations in lower grades, and the introduction of bridging and remedial programmes to support transition into senior secondary education.

In conclusion, the Grade 11 results should be viewed not as a verdict against learners or teachers, but as a message calling for systemic reform. From a Himbacracy perspective, education must move people forward without humiliation, create space for both academic excellence and practical skill development, and allow learners to compete with time and growth rather than unrealistic uniform standards. If Kunene invests wisely by establishing a school of excellence and a strong vocational pathway, the region will not only improve examination outcomes but also restore hope, relevance, and purpose to its education system.

Uerimanga Tjijombo

The Himbacracy Philosopher

How Ethnicity Is Formed

 

                                  How Ethnicity Is Formed

Omuhoko / Otjiuana / Ethnicity Formation

1. Male – Omurumendu & Female – Omukazendu
   Ethnicity begins with a man (omurumendu) and a woman (omukazendu).
2. Nuclear Family – Omuhoko mbuza momurumendu nomukazendu
   These two form a nuclear family consisting of husband, wife, and their biological children.
3. Extended Family – Ovakwate vomurumendu, vomukazendu, ovanatje wovanatje vao
   Several related nuclear families come together to form an extended family.
4. Patrilineal & Matrilineal Descent – Oruzo (father line) & Eyanda (mother line)
• Oruzo: the patrilineal line passed from the father.
• Eyanda: the matrilineal line passed from the mother.
  These descent lines organise families into structured social units.
5. Clan – Omaṱunḓu/ ngena ondando imwe
   Families who share the same oruzo or eyanda form a clan (omaṱunḓu).
6. Tribe – Eṱunḓu/otjiwaṋa
   Ovandu mbena ombazu imwe, ongaro imwe, novitjitwa vimwe nu wina vekara pamwe.
   A tribe is made up of clans who share the same traditions, customs, values, and live together as a community.
7. Ethnicity – Omuhoko
   Omuhoko ehika ovandu avehe muve wanena.
   Ethnicity refers to the larger social identity that unites all related tribes and clans under one people.

Ovaherero Ethnic Group and Dialects

The Ovaherero ethnicity is composed of several closely related groups who share a common ancestry and cultural heritage, but speak different dialects of the broader Otjiherero language:

People and Their Dialects

• Ovaherero → speak Otjiherero (main language)
• Ovahimba → speak Otjihimba (dialect of Otjiherero)
• Ovatjimba → speak Otjitjimba (dialect of Otjiherero)
• Ovambanderu → speak Otjimbanderu (dialect of Otjiherero)

Key Point

All these dialects, Otjiherero, Otjihimba, Otjitjimba, and Otjimbanderu, belong to the same language family, with Otjiherero as the main language. Thus, all these groups fall under the Ovaherero broader ethnic group.

 

Uerimanga Tjijombo

The Himbacracy Philosopher

The Story of the Corolla Toyota 16-Valve

 

The Story of the Corolla Toyota 16-Valve

It was in 2019 when Komundu Patrick Kavari bought his first car, a Toyota Corolla 16-valve, from Mr. Novengi for N$13,000.00. The car, though old, looked reliable, and Kavari was excited to finally have his own vehicle. Without wasting any time, he decided to test it on a long journey to Opuwo.

The Journey to Opuwo

As they set off from Windhoek, the excitement filled the car. They were four in total, with Kavari behind the wheel. The trip went smoothly until they approached Otjiwarongo, where something unexpected happened. A bull suddenly crossed the road, and Kavari swerved sharply to avoid hitting it. The car spun on the road and ended up facing the direction they had come from, back toward Windhoek.

A man driving a Toyota Quantum who had been following them stopped and approached. He told Kavari that he had been driving too fast because he had overtaken the Quantum just before the near-accident. Shaken by the incident, Kavari lost confidence in driving. From Otjiwarongo, he handed the steering wheel to Ramos, who had been sitting next to him.

The Burst Tire

The journey continued, but trouble was far from over. About 32 kilometres before Kamanjab, one of the car’s tyres burst. To make matters worse, the tyre had a lock nut, and they had no tool to remove it. Stranded in the middle of nowhere, they had no choice but to spend the night by the roadside.

The next morning, they managed to contact someone in Otjiwarongo to bring the right tool. Once the tyre was changed, they continued their trip safely and finally arrived at the village. This car became quite special to the people there, it was even the first car that Mr. Kaurivi used to learn how to drive.

The Journey to Ondangwa

A few days later, Kavari drove the Corolla to Windhoek again and later continued to Ondangwa, where he spent the night at a lady’s house named Brenda. The next morning, he left Ondangwa with an Otjiherero-speaking man he had met there.

But just 10 kilometres from Ondangwa, the gearbox started giving problems. Gear 5 refused to engage properly. The only way he could drive was by holding the gear lever tightly with his hand whenever he used 5th gear; when his hand got tired, he switched to 4th gear. It was a tiring and frustrating experience, but he managed to keep the car moving.

The Final Breakdown

When they finally reached Windhoek, the car gave up completely. The gears got stuck, and while he was at Customs to collect some papers, the vehicle began to smell as if something inside was burning. Despite his attempts to fix it, the car struggled to move. Eventually, when they got home, the Corolla stopped running altogether.

Realising that it was beyond repair, Kavari contacted Mr. Novengi and told him to come and take back his car. Mr. Novengi agreed and bought it back for N$11,000.00.

Epilogue

Ironically, even though the Corolla had disappointed Kavari, it still managed to come back to life under its original owner. Up to this day, the same Toyota Corolla 16-valve still moves, faithfully serving Mr. Novengi, the man who sold it in the first place.

 

The Living Flame of Identity: Himbacracy Philosophy and the Ovahimba Worldview

 

The Living Flame of Identity: Himbacracy Philosophy and the Ovahimba Worldview

Introduction

In the far northern lands of Namibia, where the Kunene River whispers across the red soil, lives a people who have mastered the art of balance between tradition and modernity, the Ovahimba. To the untrained eye, their red skin and bare feet may appear as symbols of ancient times, but to those who look deeper, it is a philosophy, a way of being that speaks to the essence of identity, resilience, and harmony with the land.
This worldview is at the heart of what we call the Himbacracy Philosophy, a philosophy that treasures cultural continuity, communal values, and spiritual interconnectedness between humanity, nature, and the ancestors.

Otjihimba: The Language of Continuity

The Otjihimba dialect is a branch of Otjiherero, enriched with deeper, older Otjiherero vocabularies and expressions. It is not merely a tool for communication; it is a repository of ancestral wisdom. Every idiom, proverb, and name carries echoes of the past, shaping how the Ovahimba see the world and how they express respect, kinship, and belonging.

In the Himbacracy Philosophy, language is sacred. To lose a word is to lose a world. Thus, the continued use of Otjihimba is an act of resistance against cultural erosion, a way to assert, “We are still here.” Even as globalisation presses forward, the Ovahimba’s speech patterns, songs, and rituals safeguard their place in Namibia’s linguistic mosaic.

The Red Soil: A Symbol of Life, Not Sand

Often called the “red soil,” Kunene’s striking colour does not come from the sand but from the sacred mixture of red ochre and butterfat (omaze wotjize), a paste that Ovahimba women apply to their skin and hair. To outsiders, it may appear as mere adornment, but within the Himbacracy Philosophy, it represents far more: protection, identity, and continuity.

The ochre shields the skin from the sun, but spiritually, it shields the person from impurity, a physical manifestation of ancestral connection. It reminds each generation that beauty is not only how one appears but how one belongs to history. To wear traditional attires such ombanda yondana, oruhira/otjitati as wear to wear ombuku yonḓu is to wear the past as armor, to embody heritage, and to walk proudly with the blessings of the ancestors.

Okoruwo: The Holy Fire That Never Dies

At the center of every Ovahimba homestead burns the Okoruwo, the holy fire. It is the eternal link between the living and the ancestors, the unseen council that governs through memory and moral duty. When a child is born, the family introduces them to the fire; when one dies, their spirit returns to it.
In Himbacracy, the fire is not only religious but philosophical, symbolising continuity, the eternal cycle of existence, and the unseen bond between generations.

The Okoruwo teaches that true leadership flows not from authority but from reverence, reverence for those who came before, for the cattle that sustain life, and for the land that nurtures all. Thus, in a Himbacratic society, wisdom is not spoken loudly; it is lived quietly.

Cattle, Community, and the Measure of Wealth

For the Ovahimba, cattle are more than property, they are the language of survival and social balance. Every name, every exchange, every ceremony flows through cattle. They provide milk, define kinship, and embody wealth, but beyond economics, they represent responsibility.
Owning cattle is not for personal pride but for sustaining others, a living example of the Himbacracy principle that individual prosperity has no meaning outside the community.

Through cattle, the Ovahimba teach that wealth is not measured by accumulation but by contribution, by how much one gives, not how much one owns.

Between Two Worlds: Tradition and Modernity

Today, the Ovahimba live at the crossroads of ancient rhythms and modern noise, a place where barefoot women walk past cellphone shops and Toyota cars share the path with cattle.
Yet, they remain grounded in who they are. The world may see contradiction; the Himbacracy Philosophy sees adaptation. To the Himba, change is not betrayal, it is evolution guided by identity.
They remind us that tradition is not a museum of memories but a living organism, growing, breathing, and learning to coexist with new realities.

The Philosophy of Himbacracy: Lessons for the Modern World

Himbacracy is more than a cultural concept, it is a philosophy of life built on respect, balance, and remembrance. It teaches that progress without roots is emptiness; that a person who forgets where they come from will lose where they are going.
In a world obsessed with speed, the Ovahimba move with the rhythm of the rain, slow, deliberate, and meaningful. Their time is not governed by clocks but by seasons, cattle migrations, and ancestral ceremonies.

Himbacracy calls for a world where technology coexists with tradition, where modern education harmonises with indigenous knowledge, and where development respects the sacred ecology of identity.

Conclusion

The red soil of Kunene is not just a place,  it is a metaphor for endurance. The Ovahimba people, through their Otjihimba language, rituals, and values, embody what Himbacracy stands for: the power to remain oneself amid change.
They remind Namibia, and the world, that culture is not something to be preserved behind glass, but to be lived, spoken, and passed down like the flame of the Okoruwo, eternal, warm, and guiding.

Even as modernity encroaches, the Ovahimba prove that identity can not only survive change, it can transform it.
In their red ochre and sacred fire burns the timeless truth of Himbacracy:

“Tradition is not a museum, it is life.”

 

A Heartfelt Message to Ms. Rahitua Muharukua

 

 

Ms Rahitua Muharukua

A Heartfelt Message to Ms. Rahitua Muharukua

Congratulations, Ms. Rahitua Muharukua, on your graduation from the University of Namibia on 8 October 2025, where you obtained a Bachelor of Education (Hons) (Pre- and Lower Primary), Level 8 degree. What an extraordinary milestone, one earned through resilience, sacrifice, and unwavering determination.

I still remember very clearly, about four years ago, when you decided to further your studies at one of the biggest and most respected universities in our country. I witnessed your struggles first-hand. I remember your tears when institutional fees became too heavy to bear, and when you even considered selling your laptop just to continue your studies. Many people might not fully understand the depth of your struggle, but I do, because I saw the journey, I saw the sleepless nights, and I saw the willpower that refused to die.

I have no need to mention my role in your academic path, because helping others is simply part of my calling, it is what God sent me to this earth to do. But I will never forget the selfless people who stood by you when life was at its hardest.

I want to deeply acknowledge Hore Muharukua, a man who may not have formal employment but always found a way to contribute,  selling goats, sheep, and even cattle, just to make sure you could continue your education. Such sacrifice is the purest form of love and faith in someone’s future.

To Mariura Muhenje, I extend heartfelt gratitude for providing accommodation, meals, and transportation support. Your home became a safe haven for Rahitua, even when she had to travel long distances, getting off at the B1 road to reach Khomasdal Campus, or struggling to find transport back to Elisenheim, a location far from Windhoek city centre. The daily trips through Monte Christo Service Station to find a cab might sound simple to others, but we know those challenges were real and draining.

A word of thanks also goes to Katavi Muharukua, who, even as a student himself, helped with transportation whenever Mariura was unavailable. Your sense of family and responsibility did not go unnoticed.

I also want to appreciate Mavetungujani Thom and Claudia Muharukua, for stepping in to assist whenever and however they could, whether with finances, emotional support, or encouragement. It truly took a village to make this academic dream possible.

And yes, let’s not forget the story of the laptop you took from your uncle (without permission, of course!) simply because you had no choice. That moment was a symbol of pure determination, a young woman refusing to let circumstances dictate her destiny.

Today, Rahitua, as you wear your graduation gown and hold your degree with pride, remember that your achievement represents not only your personal victory but also the triumph of your entire family and community. You have proven that poverty is not a permanent condition, but a situation that can be conquered through faith, hard work, and education.

May this qualification open greater doors for you. May it remind you that the same God who brought you through these struggles will continue to guide your path forward. I am proud of you beyond words.

Congratulations once again, Ms. Rahitua Muharukua, a true inspiration to many young Namibians who dream of education against all odds.

Uerimanga Tjijombo

The Himbacracy Philosopher