There’s a peculiar tribe in Namibia – a self-proclaimed parliament of the people.
Who are they, you ask? They’re the Namibians of the Internet. They are a collection of Wi-Fi squatters, data-bundle
warriors, and workplace-bandwidth abusers who believe they are Namibia.
This group dominates social media platforms, loudly claiming to represent every Namibian. But here’s the twist: they don’t.
Not even close.
THE NUMBERS DON’T LIE (BUT MAYBE THEY SHOULD WHISPER)
Namibia’s three million people include about 730 000 active social media users. But only about half of them are
consistently online.
This means around 350 000 Namibians, fewer people than the population of Windhoek, have the data and platforms to
declare themselves Namibia’s voice. But like a Twitter poll with 47 votes, it’s a loud echo in a small room, not a national
consensus.
If you listen to these keyboard crusaders, you’d think they have been unanimously elected to speak on behalf of the entire
nation.
“Namibia has spoken!” they proclaim after a particularly heated Twitter poll with all of 47 votes.
To put this in perspective: If Namibia’s social media users were a family, they’d be the loud cousin who thinks their new
kwaito song qualifies as a Grammy submission. Meanwhile, the rest of the family, roughly 73% of Namibians, are happily
living their lives without ever hearing that off-key rendition of “We Are the World”.
IT’S A SMALL WORLD
Have you noticed how, within an hour, the same meme or post floods all the WhatsApp groups in Namibia?
Remember how videos and memes of the Namib Desert Diamond heist flooded every WhatsApp group in Namibia within
minutes? Isn’t that a sign that the WhatsApp universe in Namibia is so small that when one farts on one group, the smell
fouls every other group?
It’s a cozy, privileged bubble that many Namibians simply can’t access.
The farmers in remote villages, the labourers in Windhoek’s informal settlements and the herders in the Kunene region are
too busy surviving to worry about trending hashtags. Their challenges, be it finding clean water, affording school fees or
accessing healthcare, remain invisible in the digital kingdom, where debates about red-carpet outfits or TikTok trends reign
supreme.
ECHO CHAMBERS AND EMPTY CANS
In Namibia’s online spaces, empty cans make the most noise.
To be fair, there are half-full and full cans, too, but let’s focus. A single tweet about potholes can spiral into a Facebook war
with poorly spelled insults and irrelevant memes, alongside annoying ads for Brazilian hair.
It’s infectious, too, because the other day ‘AmaJuices’ on Instagram regurgitated posts from Nguvii (famous for many
things), and a famous radio station ate up the fresh vomit on a show.
A (MIS)INTERPRETATION OF THE NATION
These online loudmouths believe their views are universal, passionately debating politics and pop culture. Meanwhile, the
real Namibian is busy ploughing fields, teaching children and fixing cars.
But here’s the reality: The ‘Namibia’ they claim to represent is more of a curated fantasy land where every voice agrees (or
is muted) and every problem can be solved with a hashtag.
The rest of the country?
Well, they’re outside this digital bubble. For them, social media debates often feel as irrelevant as a meme about pineapple
pizza. Hashtag that!
THE QUIET MAJORITY’S TRUE CONCERNS
While the self-proclaimed social media sovereigns are busy debating whether pineapple belongs on pizza or if someone’s
red carpet outfit deserves ridicule, the silent majority grapples with issues that won’t make it to their Twitter timelines.
Boreholes remain dry, classrooms overcrowded and hospital queues longer than a broadband installation schedule in rural
Namibia. These are the unspoken realities – the kind of problems that don’t come with hashtags, but desperately need
solutions.
THE FINAL SCROLL
Here’s a reality check: The Namibians of the Internet are a small, privileged subset of a diverse population.
Your tweets and rants don’t speak for the farmer in the Omaheke region or the teacher at Rundu.
If the rest of Namibia ever logs on, they might not be so impressed.
Until then, enjoy your Wi-Fi-fuelled fantasies. But remember, the next time you declare “Namibia has spoken”, the only
people listening might just be the ones who can afford the data to argue back.
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