This week is dedicated to our fighters. Yes, our fighters.
They are the young Namibians who have crossed the finish line of basic education and now stand at a fragile threshold, with some preparing to enter institutions of higher learning, while others are stepping, often prematurely, into the labour force. They are also the parents and guardians who have lived in suspended breath since the festive season, waiting for examination results that would either affirm years of sacrifice or demand yet another round of emotional, financial and psychological endurance.
For some families, Tuesday delivered relief. For others, it confirmed that the journey is not yet over and that resilience must once again be summoned where exhaustion already lives.
The release of examination results is always framed as a moment of individual assessment, but it is also a national mirror. It reflects not only who passed and who did not, but also how effectively our education system is functioning and whom it is leaving behind.
This year, as in previous years, the outcomes have reignited difficult but necessary conversations about fairness, preparedness, transition pathways, and the widening gap between policy ambition and lived reality.
These results have once again shown that there is a serious misalignment in education policy and among people who work in the field.
There is a visible disconnect between curriculum design, assessment standards, institutional readiness and the socio-economic realities learners are expected to navigate once they exit the classroom. More concerning is the persistent absence of meaningful consultation with those who experience the consequences of these decisions most directly: learners and their parents.
Education policy cannot be treated as a technical exercise divorced from human consequence.
Confusion becomes inevitable when we introduce reforms without adequate communication, shift standards without sufficient preparation, and narrow pathways without viable alternatives.
We do not even want to dive into the NSFAF mess right now.
Learners are left unsure of their footing, parents are forced into reactive decision-making, and schools themselves struggle to reconcile expectations with capacity. Implementation, not intention, is where policy either succeeds or quietly fails.
Education is not merely another sector in need of adjustment; it is foundational to national stability. When an education system falters, the damage does not announce itself immediately.
It unfolds slowly, accumulating across years and generations. Poor alignment today becomes skills shortages tomorrow. Inadequate support now becomes unemployment later.
Disillusionment among young people does not vanish but transforms into disengagement, migration or even vulnerability.
This is why seriousness is not optional when it comes to education. Precision, accountability, and foresight must anchor every reform.
If we mishandle this system, it can take decades to undo the harm. It is my sincere hope that there remains political and institutional will to correct course and to clean up what is misaligned before the consequences become significantly worse and more deeply entrenched.
But education does not exist in isolation. The reality awaiting many school leavers is a labour market that is neither absorbing nor forgiving.
Youth unemployment continues to cast a long shadow, turning what should be a period of exploration and growth into one of anxiety and urgency. For many young people, the pressure to “find something” quickly becomes overwhelming, especially in households where resources are already stretched thin.
It is within this context that more dangerous outcomes begin to surface. Allegations of human trafficking, particularly involving young people seeking employment opportunities, cannot be dismissed as isolated criminal acts detached from broader socio-economic conditions.
They are symptoms of desperation meeting opportunity without protection. When legitimate pathways feel blocked, risky alternatives begin to look attractive. The promise of work, travel, or financial independence can become a powerful lure when hope is scarce.
This is where an uncomfortable but necessary truth must be stated: not every opportunity is what it appears to be. In times of economic strain, young people are often encouraged, whether explicitly or implicitly, to grab any chance that presents itself, to seize opportunity with both hands. While ambition and initiative are virtues, uncritical acceptance can carry serious risks. Vigilance is not pessimism; it is self-preservation.
As a society, we must begin to balance encouragement with caution. Young people need to be empowered not only to pursue opportunity but also to interrogate it. Who is offering this job? What documentation exists? What protections are in place? Why is the promise so urgent? These are not questions of fear, but of agency. Safety must be part of the conversation about success, especially in an environment where exploitation thrives on silence and desperation.
Parents, educators, community leaders, and policymakers all have a role to play here. Awareness cannot be reactive, surfacing only after harm has occurred. It must be proactive and integrated into how we prepare young people for life beyond school. Transitioning from education into work or further study is not just a logistical step; it is a vulnerable phase that requires guidance, information, and support structures that extend beyond the classroom.
At the same time, responsibility cannot rest solely on individuals navigating structurally constrained choices.
The onus remains on institutions to create clearer, safer, and more accessible pathways for young people. This includes strengthening vocational training, aligning tertiary education with labour market needs, expanding credible internship and apprenticeship programmes, and ensuring that employment intermediaries are regulated and accountable.
What is at stake is not simply economic participation, but dignity.
When young people feel seen, supported, and protected, they are less likely to be pushed into precarious situations. When systems fail to provide these safeguards, vulnerability becomes systemic rather than exceptional.
This week, therefore, is not just about examination results. It is about reckoning with how we prepare our young people, how we communicate policy, how we manage transition, and how we protect those who stand at the intersection of ambition and risk.
Our fighters have already demonstrated resilience by enduring an education system that often demands adaptability without offering clarity. They have done their part.
The question that remains is whether our systems are willing to meet them halfway by aligning policy with reality, opportunity with safety, and ambition with responsibility.
Honouring our fighters requires more than celebration and sympathy. It demands deliberate action, honest reflection, and a collective commitment to ensuring that no young person is forced to trade their future or their safety for the mere possibility of survival.
Anything less would not only be a failure of policy but also a failure of care.
