JOSHUA RAZIKUA KAUMBION A SOMBRE occasion such as this, I cannot help it but steal words from my poet friend, Joseph Molapong:
After timeless anticipation
The door opened and the light
Shone brightly on [his] face.
(Joseph Molapong, The Scars on my Skin)
Indeed the giant of my tribe blended with the night of the Namibian sky forever, his star collapsing from the sky with a trail of brightness, his audible voice swallowed by the vast Namib Desert, quietly fading into the perpetual void, man’s ultimate destination. The “Namibian activist chief” (http://africanspotlight.com) disappeared from the stage amidst a thundering applause from his folk.
Chief Riruako, true to his body, was a towering figure in the history of my people. Indeed, he was controversial to many, but to many others he was also the lone voice in the lion’s den. He knew that to lead is to invite criticism and ostracism. Chief Riruako taught me that a life is only well-lived when a task is accomplished, and not what the people are saying of you. He pulled his dreams and vision for his people amidst obstacles of criticism and adoration. Indeed, chief Riruako “made a laudable contribution to the country”. (Nahas Angula, africanspotlight.com)
Even though he failed to ideologically convert many of us, he managed to culturally captivate our thoughts and imaginations. Even though his politics belonged to the past, his cultural steps consoled and assured many of us that one can only belong to the larger if one accepts his/her point of departure, however small and indigent.
Chief Riruako was the worthy custodian of my culture and tradition. The masses of my tribe lost an obedient servant, the anointed voice of those who could not speak for themselves due to their social and economic inability.
It is a trite fact that the chief was controversial. In 1988, when the students were marching along the narrow streets of Katutura, his bodyguard wounded one of us, while the chief was in his official Benz. To some sections of my people he was their worst nightmare up to his last days.
On the other hand, the chief was also the man who relentlessly fought, without help from his kith and kin, for the return of the skulls. He single-handedly and consistently made sure that no German should enjoy their dinner without a sense of guilt for what their ancestors did to our people. Even those who hated and despised him started to bask in the genteel applause by the faithful and devoured the German aid without shame. Those who felt his frankness regarded him as insane.
However, paramount chief Riruako was misunderstood by many. His philosophy was premised on that right belief that to fight for the advancement of your group or your house first, is the sine qua non that will enable you to allow others to fight for their own advancement. He believed that we can only as a country fight for our advancement if we are advanced as distinct groups first.
His philosophy stated that if others have failed to shed their tribal coat, his people too should deliberately and defiantly fail to do so. Empowerment is a goal shared by all and should thus be accorded to all.
I think the chief only taught us that all deserve their place under the sun and all spirits deserve to be buried under their own skies.
My admiration for the chief was borne out of his own admiration for me, which admiration stayed until the end of his time. When the sitting President asked the chief to forward some names, the chief humbly called me and ask for my permission at the parliament restaurant. When my uncle departed, the chief insisted he be accorded an omuHerero heroe’s funeral at the ovaHerero heroes’ acre in Okahandja.
He was the compass that located the offspring of the ovaHerero in Cameroon, Botswana and South Africa, where the academics failed. Chief would never forget a person, and every time you would want to introduce yourself because you would think he had forgotten you due to his age, he would cut you short with “ami mbikui” (I know you).
I shall without shame and guilt, as I have done to others before him, go to Okahandja and say: Farewell chief, go home chief, go home.
You kept a following even when you were not officially recognised [by the government]. Even when your climb was steep, you kept walking for that what you were called for. You gallantly advocated our tribe’s cause against all odds. You taught us that we can love Namibia only when we acknowledge that we are Herero first.
Yes you taught us that to be omuHerero is a God-given right and that, if acknowledged and lived purposefully, it is not a threat to Namibia. You were indeed a worthy custodian of our culture, our colour. Your shoes shall remain big for a long time. Your footprints shall continue to guide us, amidst the weeds and shrubs that will attempt to fill them. You remain the giant of my tribe. Okahandja awaits your remains proudly, chief.
*The author is Brigadier Joshua Razikua Kaumbi of the ovaHerero White Flag, who is also a lawyer by profession
