EDITORIAL: Time to let our tongues speak freely
As Professor Job Amupanda stood to make his parliamentary debut yesterday, his voice, full of conviction, was quickly checked – not for its content, but for its language. Speaker Saara Kuugongelwa-Amadhila reminded him, ever so firmly, that only English may echo through the hallowed halls of our National Assembly.
Thirty-five years ago, such a rule may have served a purpose. In a young democracy emerging from the shadows of a brutal war, English became the neutral thread weaving a fractured nation. But to still insist on this linguistic straitjacket today is laughable.
What message does this send to the very people our lawmakers represent? Our constitution does not bar the illiterate from seeking office. Imagine a leader, chosen by the people, silenced in parliament – not for lack of wisdom or ideas, but for not speaking the Queen’s tongue. Are we to muzzle such voices for the next five years simply because they speak in Sifwe, Otjiherero or Oshimbadja?
Even if every MP speaks fluent English, what harm is there in expressing oneself in the language of their soul, of one’s community? Should the sanctuary of democracy not also be a space of cultural pride and linguistic freedom?
In South Africa, lawmakers rise and speak in the voices of their ancestors, unafraid and unashamed. That’s what decolonisation looks like – not just in books or slogans, but in practice.
Namibia, too, must rise to that vision. Colonialism did more than just steal land – it tried to silence our identities. Reclaiming our languages is part of reclaiming ourselves. Let the National Assembly become a true house of the people – all the people. Let our languages breathe in its red chambers, and our future will be richer for it.
Thirty-five years ago, such a rule may have served a purpose. In a young democracy emerging from the shadows of a brutal war, English became the neutral thread weaving a fractured nation. But to still insist on this linguistic straitjacket today is laughable.
What message does this send to the very people our lawmakers represent? Our constitution does not bar the illiterate from seeking office. Imagine a leader, chosen by the people, silenced in parliament – not for lack of wisdom or ideas, but for not speaking the Queen’s tongue. Are we to muzzle such voices for the next five years simply because they speak in Sifwe, Otjiherero or Oshimbadja?
Even if every MP speaks fluent English, what harm is there in expressing oneself in the language of their soul, of one’s community? Should the sanctuary of democracy not also be a space of cultural pride and linguistic freedom?
In South Africa, lawmakers rise and speak in the voices of their ancestors, unafraid and unashamed. That’s what decolonisation looks like – not just in books or slogans, but in practice.
Namibia, too, must rise to that vision. Colonialism did more than just steal land – it tried to silence our identities. Reclaiming our languages is part of reclaiming ourselves. Let the National Assembly become a true house of the people – all the people. Let our languages breathe in its red chambers, and our future will be richer for it.
Comments
Bethold Tjeriko
Your assessment and reasoning on this matter is weak at best, just do a bit of research because, is not all the people that understand a particular language unless you go further and recommend an interpreter in the house.