When a 21-year-old woman is caught smuggling cannabis and illicit tobacco into police holding cells at Oshakati, one has to pause and ask: what is really going on? How did we arrive at a point where criminal activity boldly infiltrates the very sanctum of law enforcement, the police station itself?
If the walls of a police station can no longer guarantee security from contraband, then Namibia’s war against drugs may already be slipping through our fingers.
This week’s arrest at the Oshakati Police Station is not an isolated incident; it is a symptom of a wider malaise. The young woman, hiding 33 grams of cannabis and 40 units of Yes cigarettes in food meant for inmates, reflects both the audacity of criminals and the vulnerability of our institutions. The question is not merely about one woman’s reckless decision; it is about the systemic decay that allows such acts to keep recurring.
There was a time when the mention of “police station” evoked a sense of fear for criminals and safety for citizens. Today, that perception is being eroded. Reports of drugs, alcohol, and cellphones being smuggled into prisons or police cells are increasingly common. If such activities can occur under the watch of uniformed officers, then it becomes legitimate to ask: are we losing control?
Behind every joint, pill, or packet of powder lies a chain of desperation – economic, social, and institutional. Drug abuse in Namibia has long since outgrown the stereotype of idle youth in informal settlements. From Windhoek to Oshakati and Swakopmund to Katutura, the drug economy now cuts across class and geography.
Methamphetamine (known locally as “Tik”), crack cocaine, and cannabis have found their way into schools, homes, and workplaces. The police periodically announce seizures – bags of dagga here, parcels of cocaine there – but the fact remains: for every arrest, many more transactions go undetected. Namibia’s porous borders, under-resourced customs points, and underpaid law enforcement officers form the perfect storm for a thriving black market.
It is easy to point fingers at the police, but the uncomfortable truth is that the system has left them fighting a war without the weapons to win it. Many police stations are understaffed, under-equipped, and outdated. Officers are expected to handle modern criminal networks with obsolete tools and meagre salaries. Surveillance technology is almost non-existent in most rural stations. Drug detection dogs are few and far between.
Even more worrying is the moral erosion within parts of the force itself. There have been persistent whispers, sometimes confirmed by internal investigations, of officers who turn a blind eye for a bribe or who actively collaborate with syndicates. When those tasked with protecting society become compromised, the system collapses from within.
Youth: The battlefield and the casualties
Namibia’s youth are both the main targets and the biggest victims of this drug wave. Unemployment, idleness, and social neglect create fertile ground for drug dependency. Once hooked, young people become part of a vicious cycle, with users turning into couriers, couriers becoming dealers, and dealers eventually forming micro-networks that the state struggles to dismantle.
Rehabilitation remains a forgottefront.ier. There are simply not enough public rehabilitation centres in the country. The few that exist are either overcrowded, underfunded, or too expensive for ordinary families. Without adequate rehabilitation and reintegration support, the cycle continues, with addiction leading to crime, crime leading to incarceration, and incarceration leading right back to addiction.
Policy paralysis and the cost of inaction
Namibia does not lack policies or laws. The National Drug Control Master Plan has been gathering dust for years, its implementation stalled by bureaucratic inertia and lack of funding. Meanwhile, international syndicates adapt faster than our bureaucracy can move.
Our leaders often speak of “the youth” as the nation’s future, but future-building cannot coexist with drug dependency. The cost of inaction is not only social; it is economic. Drug addiction drains productivity, inflates healthcare costs, and feeds crime. When young people are too high to work or too desperate to seek legitimate income, the ripple effects reach every corner of the economy.
Policing alone cannot win this war. Communities must reclaim their moral agency. Parents must talk openly about drugs. Churches, schools, and community leaders must intervene early, before addiction sets in. Silence is complicity. When families hide addicts instead of helping them, they are not protecting them; they are feeding the crisis.
Equally, the media must resist glamorising drug use or crime. Music videos, social media trends, and urban subcultures often romanticise the “hustler life”, presenting drug money as fast money. The Observer has a duty to say clearly: there is nothing glamorous about addiction, prison, or wasted potential.
If Namibia is serious about reversing this trend, several urgent steps are required:
- Strengthen police infrastructure: Invest in surveillance, scanners, and secure entry systems at all police facilities and prisons. No food, parcel, or visitor should enter unchecked.
- Empower anti-drug units: Equip and professionalise specialised narcotics units with modern intelligence tools and cross-border collaboration mechanisms.
- Rehabilitation and reintegration: Establish regional rehab centres and subsidise treatment for low-income families. Recovery is cheaper than incarceration.
- Community policing: Bring local leaders, youth organisations, and families into anti-drug campaigns. Law enforcement must become a community effort.
- Accountability: Investigate and expel any officers found complicit in smuggling or protecting drug operations. A compromised force is a national liability.
The Oshakati arrest is not just another crime report; it is a mirror. It reflects how bold the underworld has become and how complacent we have grown. A 21-year-old woman smuggling drugs into a police cell should shake the conscience of the nation.
Namibia’s battle against drugs is not yet lost, but the tide is turning against us. If we continue to treat drug crime as routine news instead of a national emergency, we will soon find our society anaesthetised, awake but numb, functioning but fractured.
It is time to act before the next smuggled packet finds its way not just into a police cell but into another generation’s future.
