Hold On With The Sex Offenders List, I Present a Plan to Register Us All!

So, we’ve finally reached that glorious stage of governance where the big new idea is a public sex offenders register.

Bold move for a country of which the most sophisticated database is still the list of people who owe NamPower.

But while I applaud the justice ministry’s enthusiasm for accountability, I can’t help but feel … underwhelmed.

A public sex offenders register? Really? That’s so 2002. So selective. So reactive. If we’re going to do this, let’s do it properly, the Namibian way: Big, dramatic, and slightly ridiculous.

Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you: The National Pre-emptive Offender Registry.

Because if we’re going to waste time, we might as well do it thoroughly.

Yes, you heard me. Instead of waiting for people to actually commit crimes, let’s register everyone from birth, just to be safe.

Every newborn, the moment they scream their first scream, gets automatically added to the list. Babies are unpredictable in any way. Who’s to say that cute toddler won’t grow up to be the next nuisance on Facebook or that guy selling stolen iPhones at Ausspannplatz?

Think about it: A complete database of all Namibians, guilty or not, just waiting to prove their innocence every 10 years.

If you manage to behave, you can apply for removal – just like renewing your driving licence, but with a little more moral paperwork.

Those who fail? Well, tough luck. You remain proudly listed under ‘Potential Threat to Society (Mild to Severe)’.

Because honestly, limiting the list to convicted offenders is like trying to empty the Atlantic with a teaspoon. Our conviction rates are so low you’d swear criminals have diplomatic immunity. We all know more sex crimes are committed than reported – and most of those reported never see a conviction any way.

That’s the point! A list based on convictions alone will be emptier than a government promise.

And let’s not ignore the logistical masterpiece this will become. Picture this: “Mr Offender. Last known address: somewhere behind the third big tree in Havana, turn left after the donkey, and if you reach the kapana stand with the blue roof, you’ve gone too far.”

Or, as another might read: “Location unknown. Last seen near Okapuku at Ondonga, possibly hiding in plain sight, like everyone else.”

But don’t worry, the government will probably solve this by printing the register on A1 posters and hanging them up at shebeens.

That way, at least we’ll know who not to share our cooler box with.

Now, while we’re in the mood for national self-surveillance, why stop there?

Let’s create a few more lists while we’re at it.

First up, The National Database for the Corrupt and Corruptible. This one’s simple: a handy little list so we know who not to elect, appoint or even sit next to at weddings and funerals.

Transparency at its finest! Although, on second thought, that might just be a waste of time, because most of them are already neatly organised on party lists in any way.

In fact, I’d argue this register is more urgent than the sex offenders one. Because thieving from the public is just treason.

Then, for the sake of social debt management, let’s have the Taamba Debtors List shared publicly.

How about a public Registry of Loud People Who Shout into Their Phones in Taxis, and The National Database of People Who Say “I’m Almost There” While Still at Katutura.

These are the true threats to our social fabric, if we’re being honest.

And if all this sounds like too much work, we could just merge them all into one glorious super-list: The National Registry of Generally Sketchy People.

Imagine the efficiency. One giant spreadsheet where every Namibian is pre-classified according to their potential to irritate, offend or disappoint. A data-driven paradise.

Of course, once we have everyone neatly catalogued, we can finally stop wasting time fixing trivial things like the justice system, the education crisis or that pesky issue of electricity costing more than the combined value of all the appliances in a kitchen.

Because who needs functioning institutions when you can have a registry?

Picture it: a futuristic Namibia where every citizen walks around with a QR code tattooed behind their ear.

This could be scanned at checkpoints to reveal your moral score. Want to date someone? Just check their registry entry first.

“Sorry, I can’t go out with you; your file says you’re unsuitable genetic material to procreate with.”

Now that’s the kind of innovation we need.

So yes, let’s embrace the vision. Let’s be bold. Let’s go beyond the sex offenders register and commit fully to bureaucracy as a lifestyle.

Once we’ve catalogued every living, breathing Namibian – and the dead ones, just in case they reoffend – we can proudly declare ourselves a modern nation.

A nation where nothing works, but at least we’re all officially on record.

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