The SWAPO Headquarters towers above Katutura.
On one side of its roof, a helicopter pad. On the other, a gold-coloured statue of the country’s founding president, holding a baby, overlooking Windhoek’s principal township – a township established through forced relocation, under Apartheid and during South African rule.
The underfunded Katutura Hospital – only now receiving some much-needed repairs – sits facing this looming HQ, just metres away.
Why was such a lavish, N$1-billion-dollar ($79 CAD million) building constructed in such an underfunded, historically subjugated neighbourhood – a neighbourhood in desperate need of that very funding?
If this was meant to signal a break from Namibia’s past under Apartheid, what does it say about Namibia’s present?
Understanding Katutura
Katutura: “The place where people do not want to live” in Otjiherero. The township’s name captures most of what you need to know. Under Apartheid rule, the South African administration forcibly relocated more than 6,000 Namibians from the more central Old Location to the space north of Windhoek.
On December 10th, 1959, a protest took place against the decision. Protestors were met with gunfire, which killed 11 and wounded 44 more. Today, Namibia recognizes December 10th as Human Rights Day as a national holiday in honour of those who were killed.
The forced relocation concluded by the early 1960s. Thirty years later, Namibia became independent. Thirty more years later, and SWAPO’s new HQ construction was underway.
Understanding SWAPO
SWAPO, or the South West Africa People’s Organisation, emerged as a national independence movement at the very same time as Katutura was established. Within ten years, SWAPO was recognized by the United Nations as the “sole legitimate representative” of the Namibian people. In the years that followed, SWAPO (and its armed wing, the People’s Liberation Army of Namibia) were fighting for independence from Apartheid and South African rule.
It should come as little surprise then, that when that independence was gained in 1990, SWAPO won in a landslide election. Not dissimilar to South Africa’s ANC, SWAPO went on to win every election in the thirty years that followed.
Inferring Good Intentions: A Move to Reclaim Identity?
When choosing a location for SWAPO’s new headquarters, it is easy to understand why Katutura could might be viewed as the ideal location. A headquarters in Windhoek’s centre could simply reinforce existing urban divides. A headquarters in the city’s affluent south might create feelings of polarization.
A headquarters in Katutura? At first glance, it is not hard to see why this could be considered an admirable symbol of resistance: a pulling of the “core” of the city, and of Namibian politics, back to the people. A place once meant to be remote and removed from government could suddenly house one of the country’s most politically important buildings.
Katuturans disagreed.
An Unintended Reception
During my stay in Namibia, Namibians had a lot to say about this building. One Katuturan explained to me that the function for the building itself was kept somewhat under wraps from locals. “We thought they were building a new hospital for Katutura”, they told me. “A party headquarters was not what people asked for.”
Another Namibian pointed out one obvious irony. “The party officials… they don’t even use that hospital”. “They go to Lady Pohamba” (a private hospital in Windhoek’s affluential south). That is no unfounded claim: the late Honourable President Geingob, who passed away earlier this year before finishing his term in office, was receiving his final care at Lady Pohamba.
Intergenerational Disconnect Exposed
Namibians under 34 are from the born-free generation. The young Namibians I spoke to expressed frustration with SWAPO. They criticized SWAPO for focusing too much on the past; on their role in freeing the country.
It is perhaps understandable why SWAPO leadership does. Their leadership is comprised of Namibians who spent years in exile organizing resistance, and years leading the resistance struggle within Namibia. Many lost their lives in that struggle. Those who survived survived after extraordinary sacrifice – sacrifice which paid off. It is easy to see why leaders like this would be proud of what they accomplished.
While young Namibians frequently express gratitude for that sacrifice, they emphasize that their generation is not only not benefiting from the independence fought for but are indeed struggling today – economically, professionally and socially. The legacy of Apartheid is weighing on their prospects and futures, and they feel unheard by the pre-independence generation in power.
A Lasting Pain
One Namibian – someone I really look up to, and someone who grew up in Katutura – took the time to show me around Katutura during my final days in Namibia. Even within the township, the division between its four separate cultural-linguistic quarters can be clearly observed through its architecture. “Apartheid… this thing was no joke.”, they told me. “It was built to last.” – and thirty years later, it has.
This was one of the most profound, eye-opening moments of my time in Namibia. It was a moment where I felt genuinely stumped. How is anyone supposed to overcome this? Apartheid ends one day – and then what?
During my internship I had always considered Apartheid through a legal lens. Without meaning to make the real impact laws have sound in any way trivial, Apartheid-era “laws” were effectively words on paper. Changing words on paper is one challenge. What about concrete in the ground?
You can knock down the Berlin Wall – but knocking down your own house’s wall? Not exactly a solution.
Like my friend said, “Apartheid was built to last”.
Concluding Thoughts
The SWAPO Headquarters towers above Katutura – and placing it in Katutura was unpopular. Still, from my observations and from the research into the public discourse surrounding this decisions, it seems like there was no clear suggestion on where it should have been placed.
That is one closing remark I hope readers take away. Apartheid rears its ugly, abhorrent head in so many more ways than one. It was built to last for generations. From the laws, to the streets and to the buildings themselves, every step forward bears with it an invisible weight; weight that can be hard to ascertain, but is so important to understanding why moving past that era takes time.
The other closing thought is more so an observation: Namibians are determined to keep taking those heavy steps forward. Their determination is inspiring – and I think that in the complex, heavy world we live in, we should be (and will be) looking more and more to Namibia for inspiration on how to move forward from difficult pasts.