The fatal shooting of traditional headman Sam Nepando and the serious injury of I-Ben Nashandi, who is reportedly recovering in hospital, have sent a deep and unsettling shock through Namibia. It is not only the loss of life and the violence itself that has disturbed the nation, but the nature of the dispute from which this tragedy reportedly arose. Incidents of this kind are almost unheard of in our recent history, particularly within the context of traditional leadership and land administration. For many Namibians, this moment has forced a painful reckoning with questions we have long debated in theory but have now encountered in the most tragic of realities.
At the most basic level, this incident confronts us with an undeniable truth: no land dispute, disagreement, or grievance among Namibians can ever be resolved through violence. Violence does not clarify ownership, strengthen claims, or deliver justice. It only destroys lives, families, and social cohesion. When disagreements escalate to the use of firearms, the outcome is never resolution but irreversible loss. The death of headman Sam Nepando cannot be undone, and whatever grievances existed before that moment are now overshadowed by grief, trauma, and the heavy hand of the criminal justice system.
Namibia has long prided itself on being a peaceful nation, one that emerged from a brutal colonial and liberation history with a collective commitment to dialogue, law, and reconciliation. That commitment is tested when emotions run high, particularly around land, an issue that touches identity, history, and survival. Yet it is precisely in such moments that restraint, process, and respect for the law matter most. If violence becomes an acceptable response to disagreement, then no system, traditional or modern, can function.
This tragedy also exposes a deeper and more uncomfortable question that black Namibians must confront honestly. We speak frequently, and rightly so, about land ownership, dispossession, and the need for fair and just land reallocation. These conversations are often framed in moral and historical terms, appealing to justice and dignity. But if we cannot resolve land-related disputes among ourselves in a fair, logical, and lawful manner, how do we expect others to take our demands seriously?
The call for land reform is not weakened by debate or disagreement; it is weakened by chaos and violence. When disputes among black Namibians descend into bloodshed, it reinforces harmful narratives that question our capacity to manage land equitably and responsibly. This is not a judgement on the legitimacy of land claims, but a sober reminder that the strength of any cause lies not only in its justice but also in the manner in which it is pursued. Discipline, fairness, and respect for institutions are not concessions to others; they are obligations we owe to ourselves.
Central to this discussion is the role of traditional courts and authorities. Traditional courts in Namibia are legally constituted and recognised under national law. They are not informal gatherings or optional forums but part of the country’s broader justice system. Their authority must be respected in the same way we respect magistrates’ courts, the High Court, or the Supreme Court. To undermine traditional courts through intimidation or violence is to undermine the rule of law itself.
Traditional leaders are entrusted with immense responsibility, particularly in communal areas where land allocation and dispute resolution are daily realities. Their decisions may not always satisfy all parties, but dissatisfaction must be addressed through lawful appeals and established procedures, not through threats, coercion, or weapons. Once the authority of traditional courts is eroded, the vacuum that follows is not freedom but disorder.
Finally, this incident must mark a turning point. Steps must be taken to ensure that such a tragedy is never repeated. This requires more than public condemnation; it requires concrete action. The suspected shooter must be prosecuted to the full extent of the law. Justice must be seen to be done, not as an act of vengeance, but as a reaffirmation that no one is above the law and that violence has consequences.
Beyond prosecution, there must be renewed investment in conflict prevention, mediation, and education around land rights and dispute resolution. Traditional authorities, government institutions, and communities must work together to identify early warning signs of escalating conflict and intervene before disagreements turn deadly. Firearms have no place in resolving civil disputes, and their presence in such contexts must be treated with the seriousness it deserves.
The death of headman Sam Nepando is a national tragedy, not only for his family and community but for Namibia as a whole. How we respond will say much about who we are and who we aspire to be. If we allow violence to define our disagreements, we betray our history and endanger our future. If, however, we recommit ourselves to law, dialogue, and respect for our institutions, traditional and modern alike, then even in tragedy, we may yet find a path toward wisdom and renewal.
