If you’ve been on social media or read recent tourism sector commentary, you’d be forgiven for thinking that Namibia’s visa-on-arrival policy is the greatest blunder our government has committed in recent times. Loud voices from within the tourism industry, particularly white operators, have gone as far as predicting a collapse of the sector. “Tourists will run away,” they scream. “These people don’t know what they’re doing,” they mutter, publicly and privately, about government officials.
Let’s be clear: this hysteria is misguided, exaggerated, and in some cases, drenched in barely concealed racial politics. What’s worse, it undermines an important principle, Namibia’s sovereign right to manage its borders with dignity and reciprocity.
The reality is this: Namibia’s visa-on-arrival system is not a crisis. It’s a commendable step in modern, reciprocal diplomacy and one of the most convenient visa systems on the continent. Is it perfect? No. Are there long queues? Yes, sometimes. But let’s put things into perspective before we join the wailing choir.
Have you ever tried to apply for a Schengen visa?
It takes weeks. You’ll need to fill out dozens of pages of documentation. You must prove your income, provide travel insurance, book your accommodation in advance, and attend an in-person interview at an embassy that may be in a different country. Then you pay hundreds of euros and still face the possibility of rejection. Almost 18% of Schengen visa applications are rejected, if you’re African, that figure is closer to 30%.
So imagine the irony. European countries, some of which still have colonial guilt they’ve never addressed, impose layers of red tape on Africans wanting to visit. Yet when Namibia asks for a single visa fee and a 2–3 hour wait at Hosea Kutako International Airport, the world must stop?
This is laughable.
Namibia’s visa-on-arrival process allows tourists to apply online before travel or receive a visa at the airport. It costs N$1600 and grants multiple entries over 90 days. No interviews. No fingerprinting. No financial interrogations. No begging for access to a continent where your ancestors may very well have walked before colonisation even arrived.
Is it perfect? Of course not. Hosea Kutako is struggling with capacity. The three-hour queues are a problem, no one is denying that. But let’s be honest, even countries like the United States, with all their technological muscle, regularly have three-hour immigration queues at JFK or LAX. Just last year, travellers at London Heathrow reported four-hour delays at passport control due to system failures. In Nairobi, delays of up to five hours have been recorded even for those with e-visas.
So let’s stop pretending that Namibia is uniquely incompetent. In fact, we should be applauding the government for even attempting to create a system that places Namibia’s dignity and sovereignty at the centre of policy.
And yes, this issue is political, and racial.
Much of the loudest criticism is coming from white tourism operators who have long felt entitled to dictate terms to the government. For them, the mere idea that “these people”, meaning Black bureaucrats, have designed a visa policy without consulting them is unacceptable. Let’s call it what it is: a trust deficit deeply rooted in the colonial mindset that still infects parts of our economy.
You’ll hear things like “government doesn’t understand the industry,” or “tourists don’t like bureaucracy.” But let’s be honest: these concerns aren’t really about tourists. They’re about control. About an industry that has historically operated without much interference or accountability. And now that government asserts itself with a policy designed to serve the nation, not just private profits, there’s panic in the air.
Let’s take a lesson from other countries that are getting it right.
Rwanda, often praised for its streamlined tourism sector, offers visas on arrival to citizens of every country in the world. And yet, they maintain strict control over who enters, and their system is efficient and respected. Nobody is accusing Rwanda of chasing away tourists. In fact, the country has become a global conference and eco-tourism destination.
Ghana, too, recently expanded its visa-on-arrival program to boost tourism and business travel, especially during events like “The Year of Return.” It’s seen nothing but growth since. The key? Clear communication, strategic airport management, and above all, pride in policy.
Namibia can learn from their operational systems, yes. But we must not bow to pressure to scrap a system that asserts our sovereignty. Our only failure is not investing fast enough in the infrastructure and staffing needed to support the policy’s success.
The truth is, some of the discomfort with our visa process has little to do with lines or logistics. It has everything to do with the idea that Namibia, small, Black-governed, and formerly colonised—dares to assert itself at the border.
Well, we must dare.
We are not a playground. We are not a safari pitstop where guests come and go with no regard for our rules. We are a country. With laws. With dignity. With the right to decide who enters and how.
Namibians, Black and white, must unite behind this policy. It is not about rejecting tourists or harming the economy. It is about respecting ourselves enough to demand the same respect we give to others when we apply for their visas.
Let’s fix the queues. Let’s train and deploy more staff. Let’s invest in better digital systems. But let’s not fall for the trap of thinking we must scrap the system just because some voices are louder than others.
This policy is not a blunder. It’s a stand. And it’s long overdue.
