THE single mother of two and guardian of six children lies awake every night over how to make ends meet after her recent retrenchment.
Lavinia Ndipwashime (41) earns N$20 a day selling vetkoek at N$1 each.
This is the reality of the Hakahana resident in Windhoek.
Ndipwashime is one of 20 employees who were retrenched by Avani Windhoek Hotel and Casino earlier this year due to the impact the government’s Covid-19 regulations have had on the company.
She was a room attendant at the hotel and has not received her retrenchment package yet, she says.
In addition to selling vetkoek to survive, Ndipwashime says she also brews 25 litres of traditional drink (oshikundu) and sells it for N$5 a litre.
“I make 25 litres of oshikundu, but sometimes it doesn’t all sell in one day. I can make up to N$50 per day,” she says.
She uses the money to buy the bare minimum, including bread and flour.
“I am trying to get bread for my kids, I have a shebeen, but it is not in business due to Covid-19,” she says.
Ndipwashime has since last year tried to register her shebeen as a bar at the municipality, but has had no luck.
“I tried to get a licence, but it’s a long process,” she says.
“I don’t know where I’m going or what I’m going to do,” she says.
On the other side of town is Helena ‘Maggy’ Kambonde (29), who obtained a qualification at the Namibia University of Science and Technology in 2016, with the hopes of becoming a chef.
Kambonde, who was temporarily employed at the Safari Hotel, was laid off earlier this year after barely working at the hotel for three months.
“The hotel could not operate; we couldn’t get customers,” she says.
Together with three other women, Kambonde is now a full-time vendor in Windhoek North, but the grass is no greener this side.
“The business is suffering because of the economy. Maybe the government should give small entrepreneurs loans, or the president should open Windhoek,” she says.
The women’s vending business is situated between NamPost and Windhoek Central Hospital, a spot that attracts the ordinary passer-by, taxi driver and local looking for a hot, homemade meal.
Rebbeka Shoikuti (29), who leads the kitchen, starts her day as early as 04h30 with the help of her sister Luise Shoikuti (32) and their cousin Secilia Nengosho (23).
Prior to the lockdown, business was booming, but due to Covid-19 regulations, sit-ins are not allowed and fewer customers are attracted.
Rebbeka and Luise, both students, need to pay for their tertiary education.
Rebbeka had also been selling clothes since 2010, but this has now been affected by the closure of borders.
In July, the entrepreneurs started their vending business after putting money together, and called it Tuweilika’s Kitchen – named after Rebbeka’s daughter.
“We can’t be at home sleeping. Imagine you are renting, you need to pay your water and electricity, and you need food on your table. You have to get an income by yourself without depending on anyone – that’s when we started this group,” says Luise.
Previously, they could sell food straight from their pots, but now had to invest in metal trays and lunch boxes.
The group of vendors hope to renovate and expand their kitchen once they make a bigger profit.
Labour expert Herbert Jauch says people turn to vendor activities out of desperation because they do not see any alternatives to survive.
He said the little income people make from such activities is only temporary relief and does not solve the fundamental livelihood question.
“It is in this context that the importance of a basic income grant (BIG) becomes viable,” he says.
