OuDhimba Uanyeta

For more than 30 years, the OvaDhimba people have carried a burden that many communities would have surrendered under. We have knocked on doors. We have submitted applications. We have raised our voices peacefully and respectfully. We have told our story again and again. Yet the recognition we seek has remained beyond our reach.

But there is one thing that the OvaDhimba people have never done: we have never given up.

"You only lose when you give up."

These words are more than a slogan. They are the story of our struggle.

For decades, our elders have fought to preserve our identity, our culture, our language, our customs, and our dignity. They have carried this fight from one generation to the next, refusing to allow the OvaDhimba name to disappear from history. Even when our concerns were overlooked, even when our voices seemed unheard, our people remained standing.

History teaches us that recognition is not always granted quickly. Justice often takes time. But time does not erase truth.

The OvaDhimba people have a rich heritage and a proud history that stretches back long before modern borders were drawn. Our ancestors lived, governed, and preserved their traditions through generations. Today, we continue to uphold those traditions with pride and determination. Reports and testimonies presented before national commissions have documented the historical existence and claims of the OvaDhimba community, while community leaders have continued to advocate for recognition and the protection of their cultural identity.

Thirty years may seem like a long time, but for a people determined to protect their heritage, it is only one chapter in a much longer story.

We owe it to our elders who started this journey.

We owe it to the young people who deserve to know their identity without apology.

We owe it to future generations who should inherit not only our culture but also the dignity of being fully recognised.

Our struggle has never been about division. It has been about recognition. It has been about respect. It has been about ensuring that the OvaDhimba people have the opportunity to preserve and promote their heritage as a distinct community. Communities from indigenous and minority groups in Namibia have raised similar concerns regarding recognition and participation in decisions affecting their cultural and traditional affairs. ([The Namibian][2])

The road may be long. The wait may be painful. But every year that passes proves something important: we are still here.

Still standing.

Still united.

Still believing.

And as long as we continue to stand together, speak with one voice, and carry the dreams of our ancestors in our hearts, we have not lost.

Because you only lose when you give up.

And the OvaDhimba people are not giving up.

May the voices of the elders, the courage of the youth, and the determination of the entire OvaDhimba community continue to inspire this journey forward.

[1]: https://mfpe.gov.na/documents/1150081/1187317/REPORT%2B%2BOF%2BTHE%2BCOMMISSION%2BOF%2BINQUIRY%2B%2BINTO%2BCLAIMS%2BOF%2BANCESTRAL%2BLAND%2B%2BRIGHTS%2BAND%2BRESTITUTION%2B.pdf/e2973e3a-3767-4cbf-59da-16eeeed2fe1b?download=true&t=1663750331384&utm_source=chatgpt.com "REPORT
OF THE COMMISSION OF INQUIRY
INTO CLAIMS"
[2]: https://www.namibian.com.na/recognise-minorities-traditional-chiefs-kulunga/?utm_source=chatgpt.com "Recognise minorities' traditional chiefs – Kulunga - The Namibian

United Nations x African Union x Human Rights Watch OneAfrica Informanté x New Era Newspaper

OP-ED: We Are Namibians Too – The Unfinished Fight for Ovadhimba Recognition
By Mbwale Pineas Mekondjo yaRuhele, a concerned member of the Ovadhimba community

For over three decades, the Ovadhimba people have knocked on the doors of the Namibian government, seeking nothing more than what is already afforded to every other ethnic group in this country: the right to be recognised, to have a chief of our own, and to practice our culture freely under our own traditional authority. We are still waiting.

As we approach 36 years of independence, it is time to ask a fundamental question: Why are the Ovadhimba still treated as strangers in the land of their birth?

The Importance of Traditional Authority: More Than Just a Title
For those who do not understand the significance of this fight, let me be clear: a traditional authority is not merely a ceremonial institution. It is the very foundation of cultural identity, belonging, and human dignity.

Every Namibian who belongs to a recognised traditional authority wakes up knowing who they are. They have a chief they can kneel before, a council that represents their interests, and a cultural home where their language, customs, and traditions are not just tolerated but celebrated. They have a sense of belonging.

We, the Ovadhimba, have none of that—not because we do not exist, but because the state has refused to see us.

Article after article has documented how the Ovadhimba have been trying to establish their own traditional authority since 1992, only to be met with bureaucratic delays, political indifference, and outright hostility from the Uukolonkadhi of the Omusati Region, who currently claim jurisdiction over our people. The Ministry of Urban and Rural Development has passed this matter from one minister to the next for five-year terms, each promising action and delivering nothing.

This is not a technical oversight. This is a denial of our fundamental human rights.

Our Fight Is a Fight for Fundamental Rights, Not Favours
Let me address those within our own community who question the importance of this struggle. There are some who say we do not need our own traditional authority. To them, I say: Our fight is not about what we did or did not do during the liberation struggle. It is not about whether our ancestors fought for independence or not.

Our cause is based purely on our fundamental rights as Namibian citizens.

We have Namibian identity documents. We were schooled here. Our children attend Namibian universities. We contribute to the economic development of this beautiful country every single day. We serve in various governmental and private sector positions. Some of us are ministers, councillors, and hold very important positions in government. We have names and surnames. We have a history to tell.

We wake up every morning just like all other Namibians who belong to their recognised traditional authorities. The only difference is that when we look for a chief to kneel before, there is none. When we seek cultural representation, we are told to submit to the leadership of the Uukolonkadhi.

That is not equality. That is not the Namibia we fought for.

A History of Rejection: The Sequence of Events
Let me lay out the facts for those who may not know our long struggle:

1992: The Ovadhimba community formally begins its quest for recognition as a separate traditional authority.

1997 when the Ovadhimba organised a ceremony to install their own chief, the event was violently stopped by angry members of the Uukolonkadhi tribe, who accused the Ovadhimba of organising an "illegal event". Bloodshed was narrowly averted, but our right to choose our own leader was trampled upon.

1994: Formal requests were submitted to the Ministry of Local Government for recognition of an Ovadhimba chief.

2001: Former minister Nicky Iyambo wrote to non-recognised Ovadhimba chief Jonas Tjikulya, stating there was "no need to establish a separate traditional authority from the existing Uukolonkadhi Traditional Authority". He suggested we should be "free to practise our culture, customs and language under the existing Uukolonkadhi Traditional Authority".

2009: Another former minister, Jerry Ekandjo, echoed the same rejection, writing that "there is no need to establish a separate Ovadhimba traditional authority".

2022: The acting Uukolonkadhi chief wrote a letter demanding that the Ovadhimba "cease pestering the traditional authority with this issue".

2024: After a demonstration in Windhoek, Minister Erastus Uutoni announced that an investigative committee would be dispatched to hear both sides. To date, no public resolution has emerged.

This is not a struggle that began yesterday. This is a fight that has spanned generations.

The False Narrative of Origin: We Are Not Strangers
One of the most painful accusations we face is the claim that we are "not originally Namibian"—that we are "illegal immigrants from Angola". Let me be unequivocal: This is a false narrative designed to delegitimise our claims, and it is often spread by the Uukolonkadhi to maintain their grip on our land and our people.

The Uukolonkadhi Traditional Authority has repeatedly stated that the Ovadhimba "do not own land within the authority's domain" and that "the piece of land they occupy belongs to the Uukolonkadhi Traditional Authority". They claim we migrated from elsewhere and have no geographic area of our own.

But here is the truth that history books and colonial boundaries can not erase: 95 percent of Namibian tribes originated from Central Africa. The only difference between us and any other recognised tribe in this country is that some came a little earlier, and we came a little later.

As our very name "Ovadhimba" suggests, we have been forgotten—left behind in the rush to partition land and assign traditional authorities based on colonial convenience rather than historical reality.

The graves of our ancestors are in this land. We have been here long enough to have ancestors buried in this soil. That makes us Namibian.

The Betrayal of Ruacana: A Deliberate Political Act
Perhaps the clearest evidence of how the Ovadhimba have been systematically marginalised by the Uukolonkadhi lies in the redrawing of our region's boundaries.

Before Namibia's independence in 1990, Ruacana was located in the Kaokoland administrative unit—a region designated for the Ovahimba and Ovadhimba peoples. It was situated at the northwestern edge of what was often considered Owambo, bordering the rugged mountainous region of Kaokoland.

The place Ruacana was named after the community leader Ruhakana Kangombe Tjimbanda, he wasn't a Kolonkandhi.

The Kaokoland Bantustan, established in 1980, was specifically aimed at being a homeland for the Ovahimba and Ovadhimba. Development began in the early 1970s with the construction of the hydroelectric power station and housing, all within the context of Kaokoland.

But after independence, something changed.

The Namibia Delimitation Commission arbitrarily sliced the country into regions without regard to culture, language, or customs. Ruacana was incorporated into the Omusati Region instead of remaining in Kunene, where most of our people live.

The reason? To place the Ovadhimba under the leadership of the Uukolonkadhi. It was a deliberate political act—a gerrymandering of our identity orchestrated to benefit the Uukolonkadhi at our expense.

Today, the water that flows from Ruacana supplies electricity and water to the entire Omusati Region, yet our own Ovadhimba communities have no running water and no electricity. The main water pipe runs 200 kilometres to Tsumeb while our people fetch water from wells. When development projects are proposed for our area, they are blocked by Uukolonkadhi councillors who do not represent us.

We are told Ruacana "belongs" to Uukolonkadhi after independence. But we know the truth: the land was taken from us on paper, and our identity was erased along with it—all to serve the political interests of the Uukolonkadhi in the Omusati Region.

Where Are Our Allies? A Word on Tribal Politics
I must speak honestly about the political dynamics of our struggle.

The Ovaherero have stood with us from day one in our fight for recognition. We acknowledge and thank them for their solidarity. They understand what it means to be marginalised, to have your history denied, and to fight for cultural survival.

But when it comes to the Uukolonkadhi and their broader Aawambo connections, the situation is more complicated. The Uukolonkadhi are based in the Omusati Region, and it appears that tribal loyalty often trumps the principles of justice. Many Aawambo members of Parliament seem to have little sympathy for our recognition. They tend to side with their fellow tribe, the Uukolonkadhi, rather than with the principles of justice and equality.

Let me be clear: I am not painting all Aawambo with the same brush. I have come across some Aawambo on WhatsApp groups and in community meetings who genuinely have our case at heart. There are those who understand that this is not a tribal fight—it is a human rights fight. We recognise and thank them.

But the silence from the majority is deafening. When the government sides with the Uukolonkadhi, when ministers from the same ethnic background reject our applications year after year, when the Uukolonkadhi Traditional Authority that subjugates us is given preferential treatment—this is not a coincidence.

We are not asking for special treatment. We are asking for equal treatment under the laws of Namibia.

The Path Forward: Recognition as a Fundamental Right
The Namibian government has acknowledged that Indigenous Peoples and marginalised communities exist within our borders. The government has a Division of Marginalised Communities under the Ministry of Gender Equality, yet this has done nothing to advance our cause.

We have followed every proper channel. We have applied for recognition through official processes. We have addressed letters to the Office of the President. We have met with relevant ministers. Promises were made, but nothing concrete was done.

We are tired of being transferred to the next Cabinet every five years. We are tired of being told to wait while other communities enjoy rights that are denied to us.

Our demand is simple: Recognise the Ovadhimba Traditional Authority.

We do not seek to take anything from the Uukolonkadhi. We do not seek to diminish them. We simply want what is ours by right—the freedom to practice our culture under our own leadership, on our own land, with our own identity.

We are Namibians. We hold Namibian identity documents. We have contributed to the development of this country. We have shed blood and sweat for this nation. We have served in government, in the private sector, in every industry imaginable.

And we have a fundamental right to be recognised.

The question is not whether the government can recognise us. The question is whether it will—or whether the political interests of the Uukolonkadhi in the Omusati Region will continue to block our basic human rights.

Mbwale Pineas Mekondjo yaRuhele is a member of the Ovadhimba community and a concerned Namibian citizen.

Parliament of the Republic of Namibia
Ministry of Justice and Labour Relations
Ministry of Urban and Rural Development
Office of the Ombudsman Namibia

We’ve just reached 3K followers! Thank you for continuing support. We could never have made it without each and every one of you. 🙏🤗🎉

Let us review the President’s body expression in responding to the question by the member of the parliament pertaining the recognition of OvaDhimba community|

What stood out most in the president’s response was not only the words she chose, but the subtle signals carried in her expression and delivery signals that, to many, felt deeply unsettling.
There was a noticeable hesitation, even in the way she pronounced the name of the OvaDhimba/OvaDhemba, as though the identity of a people who have been seeking recognition for over three decades was unfamiliar or distant. That moment, brief as it was, spoke volumes. It gave the impression not merely of uncertainty, but of a long-standing institutional detachment, one that the community itself has been crying out against for years.

For over 30 years, the OvaDhimba have persistently called for recognition, dignity, and autonomy, yet their appeals seem to echo into a space where acknowledgment is slow, fragmented, or altogether absent. Their outcry is not just about administrative classification, it is about identity, belonging, and the right to exist within the national narrative on equal footing with all other communities. When such a prolonged struggle is met with what appears to be unfamiliarity or hesitation at the highest level of leadership, it reinforces a painful perception: that their existence is being sidelined, if not quietly denied 🥲. (It pains me really)

The concern deepens when viewed in the context of their placement under the Uukolonkadhi Traditional Authority, a structure that many within the OvaDhimba community feel does not represent their heritage, voice, or interests. To them, this arrangement is not simply governance, it feels like imposed control, a continuation of marginalization under a different name. In this light, the situation begins to resemble a form of modern-day oppression, where one group’s identity is overshadowed or subordinated to another’s, despite the constitutional ideals of equality and representation in a democratic republic.

What makes this even more troubling is the perception that the government, whether intentionally or through inaction, appears to favor one traditional structure over the rightful recognition of another. In a nation that prides itself on democracy, inclusivity, and justice, such imbalance raises difficult questions. Can a democracy truly function when some communities must fight for decades just to be seen and acknowledged 🤔? When recognition seems selective, it risks creating hierarchies of identity where some are affirmed and empowered, while others remain in a state of prolonged invisibility.

The president’s composed yet guarded expression, as previously described, reflects this tension. It is the expression of a leader navigating a politically sensitive issue, yet it also mirrors the frustration of a people who feel unheard. Her calm demeanor may project control, but to the OvaDhimba community, it may also symbolize the very distance they have been struggling to bridge a gap between their lived reality and the government’s response to it.

Ultimately, the situation captures a deeper national dilemma: the clash between constitutional promises and lived experiences. The OvaDhimba are not merely asking for recognition; they are asserting their place in the country’s identity, history, and future. Their voices carry the weight of generations who have waited, hoped, and persisted. Yet, the government’s continued reluctance or perceived reluctance to act decisively only amplifies the sense of injustice.

When a people must spend decades proving that they exist, the issue is no longer about recognition it becomes a question of whether the system itself is willing to see them at all.

OuDhimba Uanyeta

This in an extract from a Social Studies textbook that was endorse in public schools.

The image presents a historical timeline of migration into Namibia, illustrating how different groups arrived and settled in the country over time.
It begins with the San hunter-gatherers, who are shown as the earliest inhabitants of Namibia, living in the region long before recorded history.
Around 100 AD, the timeline shows the movement of Nama and Damara pastoral groups into Namibia, marking an early phase of organized settlement.

By around the 1500s, cattle and crop farmers began moving into Namibia; these are identified as the ancestors of several present-day communities, including the Ovambo, Ovahimba, OVAZEMBA, Ovatjimba, Ovaherero, Kavango, Vambadzu, VahaMbuya, Vaciriku, Hambukushu, Matotela, Mafwe, Mayeyi, Masubia, and Batwana.
Around the 1600s, Nama cattle herders are again noted as moving further into Namibia.

The timeline continues into the late 1700s, when European explorers, hunters, traders, and missionaries arrived, introducing new cultural and economic influences. Around 1790, Oorlam groups such as the Witbooi and Afrikaners are shown entering Namibia. By the 1800s, the Baster people settled in Rehoboth, establishing a recognized community. The timeline concludes by indicating that, in subsequent years, more people from Germany, South Africa, and Portuguese-speaking regions such as Angola came into Namibia, further shaping the country’s population and history.

This timeline demonstrates that Namibia’s history is formed through multiple waves of migration, with each group contributing to the nation’s cultural diversity. However, it also highlights a critical issue of recognition and fairness. Some communities that have deep historical roots and early presence in Namibia are still not fully recognized, while groups that arrived later have gained formal recognition and established structures.

A significant example is the OVAZEMBA who are listed among the early cattle and crop farming communities that migrated into Namibia around the 1500s, alongside groups such as the Ovaherero, Ovahimba, and Aawambo. Despite their long-standing presence and cultural identity, the OvaZemba have struggled to receive full official recognition as a distinct traditional authority. This lack of recognition affects their ability to preserve their cultural heritage, gain representation, and access opportunities tied to recognized status.

In contrast, the Baster people, who arrived much later in the 1800s as clearly indicated on the timeline, have been formally recognized and have established leadership and administrative systems, particularly in Rehoboth. This creates a visible imbalance, where a community with a later arrival is officially acknowledged, while an earlier community such as the OvaZemba continues to seek recognition.

The timeline, therefore, is not just a record of movement but also a reflection of ongoing social and political realities in Namibia. It shows that recognition is not always aligned with historical presence, raising important questions about equality, justice, and inclusion.

So naysayers, what exactly don’t you understand?