Editorial: Hawala’s legacy – between honour and haunting shadows
The passing away of Solomon 'Jesus' Hawala yesterday closes a chapter in Namibia’s liberation history that was as heroic as it was harrowing. Hawala embodied the discipline and determination that propelled Swapo to eventual victory over apartheid South Africa.
Yet his name will forever carry the weight of controversy. Nicknamed the 'Butcher of Lubango', he has been accused of presiding over human rights abuses in the Swapo detention camps of Angola. For many survivors and their families, these allegations are not dusty historical footnotes – they are painful memories still demanding justice.
The liberation struggle was not fought in a vacuum. Enemy infiltration was real. Spies were planted within Swapo’s ranks to derail the movement from within, and in the brutal calculus of wartime, such treachery was – and remains – a grave offence, tantamount to betraying a nation in its most vulnerable hour.
But alongside the reality of espionage lies another truth – that in the fog of war, justice is not always precise. People may have been falsely accused, caught up in paranoia and punished without fair process. Some were imprisoned or allegedly tortured for crimes they did not commit. That dual reality – the need for security and the risk of injustice – is the crucible in which Hawala’s legacy was forged.
It is within this tension that the question of whether he deserves a hero’s funeral becomes so fraught. On one hand, Hawala’s contribution to the military capacity and eventual victory of the liberation movement cannot be erased. On the other, the unresolved pain of those who accuse him of abuse cannot be ignored.
Declaring Hawala a hero without qualification would alienate those who still carry the scars of exile. Denying his contribution entirely would be to rewrite history in a way that is equally dishonest.
Yet his name will forever carry the weight of controversy. Nicknamed the 'Butcher of Lubango', he has been accused of presiding over human rights abuses in the Swapo detention camps of Angola. For many survivors and their families, these allegations are not dusty historical footnotes – they are painful memories still demanding justice.
The liberation struggle was not fought in a vacuum. Enemy infiltration was real. Spies were planted within Swapo’s ranks to derail the movement from within, and in the brutal calculus of wartime, such treachery was – and remains – a grave offence, tantamount to betraying a nation in its most vulnerable hour.
But alongside the reality of espionage lies another truth – that in the fog of war, justice is not always precise. People may have been falsely accused, caught up in paranoia and punished without fair process. Some were imprisoned or allegedly tortured for crimes they did not commit. That dual reality – the need for security and the risk of injustice – is the crucible in which Hawala’s legacy was forged.
It is within this tension that the question of whether he deserves a hero’s funeral becomes so fraught. On one hand, Hawala’s contribution to the military capacity and eventual victory of the liberation movement cannot be erased. On the other, the unresolved pain of those who accuse him of abuse cannot be ignored.
Declaring Hawala a hero without qualification would alienate those who still carry the scars of exile. Denying his contribution entirely would be to rewrite history in a way that is equally dishonest.
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Namibian Sun
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