Much is being said about the reparation talks between Namibia and Germany. To the casual observer, it might seem as though the process has come a long way.
After all, Germany has admitted wrongdoing and even recognized the atrocities committed against the Nama and Ovaherero people as genocide. Some consider this progress. But let’s be honest, it is not. It is a carefully worded statement, a hollow concession designed to appease rather than truly atone.
What happened in Namibia between 1904 and 1908 was genocide, by every moral and legal definition. Tens of thousands of Nama and Ovaherero were slaughtered, driven into the desert to die of thirst, forced into concentration camps, and stripped of their land and cattle. Their survival was not merely threatened; it was deliberately targeted. Germany knows this, and so does the world. Yet, despite this undeniable truth, Germany continues to escape full accountability.
The uncomfortable reality is that the wealth of those who orchestrated and benefited from the genocide did not disappear when the killing stopped. It was passed down through generations, building family fortunes, businesses, and industries that still thrive today. Meanwhile, the descendants of the victims live with the social and economic scars of their ancestors’ suffering. This is not just history, it is a living wound.
And here lies the tragedy within the tragedy: the rest of Namibia watches in silence. Why? Why is there such reluctance from the broader Namibian nation to take an active interest in these talks? Why do we leave this burden almost entirely on the shoulders of the Nama and Ovaherero communities? This genocide may have targeted them specifically, but its effects have rippled across our society. It shaped the power structures, the land ownership patterns, and the economic disparities we live with today. To treat it as someone else’s problem is to deny how deeply it has shaped us all.
The irony is hard to miss. Namibians, especially the youth, are quick to raise their voices for injustices happening elsewhere in the world. We speak passionately about Palestine, about Gaza, about the genocide unfolding in real time in front of our eyes. And we should. But how is it that the same passion, the same urgency, is missing when it comes to our own history?
Gaza today is at the stage where the world argues, “Is it genocide?” Namibia has already been there. The genocide against the Nama and Ovaherero is not a matter of debate. It is an established historical fact. Yet, we are being offered crumbs and told to be grateful for them. Worse still, the perpetrators of the genocide not only get to define the crime but also dictate how they will “compensate” the victims. This is the core of the problem.
Reparations are not a favor. They are not a handout. They are justice. And justice cannot be defined solely by the perpetrator. It must involve the voices of those affected. It must involve the voices of the nation. These negotiations should not be happening behind closed doors, where decisions are made far removed from the people they most impact. Every Namibian has a stake in this. Every Namibian should care about how this chapter of our history is written and how it ends.
Let us be clear: no one is calling for an uprising or some kind of revolution. What we are asking for is far more powerful than that. We are asking all Namibians to educate themselves about the genocide an issue that, sadly, many remain ignorant about. Divide and rule, coupled with ignorance, has always been a technique used by oppressors against the oppressed. We should not fall into that trap. Knowledge is power, and in this case, it is the first step toward justice.
Some may say, “But Germany has apologised. Isn’t that enough?” No, it is not. An apology without meaningful action is just words. True reparations are not symbolic gestures. They address the structural damage caused by the crime. They acknowledge the economic, social, and psychological wounds. They aim to restore dignity, not just to the communities most directly affected, but to the entire nation whose history was scarred.
We must also ask ourselves: what kind of future do we want to build if we cannot face the past honestly? If we accept crumbs today, what does that teach future generations about justice? That the powerful can define the terms of their wrongdoing and the victims must quietly accept whatever is offered? That is not justice, that is surrender.
This month, as we unofficially mark August as Heroes’ Month, the weight of this history feels even heavier. Let us do justice to those brave Ovaherero and Nama men and women who resisted German colonial forces, who fought against impossible odds, and whose sacrifice still echoes through our land. Knowing what truly happened and standing with those fighting for reparations is the very least we can do to honor those fallen Namibians.
The silence of the majority is dangerous. The apathy of our youth is alarming. We need to see the fight for reparations for what it truly is, a fight for our nation’s soul. It is not enough for the Nama and Ovaherero to carry this burden alone. The struggle for justice must be a Namibian struggle.
We can learn from Gaza. We can see how the voices of the world matter, how silence enables oppression, how denial prolongs suffering. The lessons are clear: justice is never handed over freely; it is demanded. It is fought for.
Namibia must demand justice on its own terms not on the terms dictated by those who committed the crime. This means raising our voices, mobilising our communities, and refusing to let this issue be quietly settled with symbolic gestures. It means making the world listen, not just to Germany’s narrative, but to ours.
The reparations talks are not just about the past. They are about the kind of future we will build. Will it be one where historical injustices are whitewashed and forgotten, or one where they are acknowledged and repaired? The choice is ours.
It is time to wake up. This is not the fight of the Nama and Ovaherero alone. It is the fight of every Namibian. The fight for reparations is the fight for justice. And justice, if it is to mean anything at all, must be demanded, loudly, clearly, and together.
