The enduring legacy of Kuku Frieda Mweenda Kasheshe
LETTER
In late April, the community of Oshikulu Village in the Oshikoto Region bid farewell to one of its most revered grandmothers. The late Kuku Frieda Mweenda Kasheshe, affectionately known as Kuku Kasheshe, passed away on 22 April at the venerable age of 97.
Born into the Locust Clan (Aakwambahu), Kuku Kasheshe was a proud mother to six daughters and three sons. Today, her descendants stand among the largest contributors to the growth and spread of the Aakwambahu lineage.
Kuku Kasheshe was the matriarch of our village; many of us were nurtured under her wise and loving guidance. Though not all of us were her biological grandchildren, she treated every child with the same unconditional affection and discipline that only a true matriarch could embody.
I vividly recall memories from the late 1980s, when, as our immediate neighbour, she was entrusted by my parents with the role of Omuhahithi, a traditional community meat broker responsible for managing the sale and exchange of meat following a livestock slaughter, typically for mahangu grains or money.
Whenever there was to be a slaughter at our home, I was tasked with running to her house to inform her. Our communication was unique and playful: I would run along the other side of our camp fence, climb a pole, and shout, "Hello, hello, am I on air?" to which she would warmly respond, "Hello, hello, yes, you are on air my grandchild." I would then relay the message, and she would arrive shortly thereafter to facilitate the ohaha (the trading of meat).
We kept this delightful tradition alive for years. It was during these moments that Kuku Kasheshe prophesied my future as a radio announcer, a prediction that came true when I began my career at NBC Radio as a media student. She was immensely proud of my journey and often reminded others that my path to becoming a media personality was evident even during my childhood.
Kuku Kasheshe epitomised the spirit of African neighbourhood values. She was dearly loved and respected by all the elders in the village. As young boys in the early 1990s, we often found ourselves at the receiving end of her strict, yet loving, discipline, especially when we neglected our livestock duties and the animals strayed into her mahangu fields. Full of energy and remarkable agility, Kuku Kasheshe would not hesitate to chase after us and whip us when we misbehaved. It was well understood among all families that her scolding was an act of communal care and responsibility, not cruelty.
In addition to discipline, she imparted to us the foundations of Christianity. I fondly recall the evenings spent at her home, gathered around the fire as she taught us to sing hymns and pray. On occasions when she was invited by schoolteachers to lead prayers at school events, we, as children, did not like it, as we often found her prayers too lengthy, but as we matured, we came to appreciate the profound faith and strength those prayers embodied.
My family was particularly blessed by her generosity. Her bond with my parents and grandparents was unbreakable. She cared for our grandmother during her final years after suffering a stroke, tending to her with the tenderness and devotion of a sister.
A life well lived
One Christmas Day in 2017, we hosted a family feast under a tree and invited Kuku to join us. It was then that some of us saw her for the first time using a walking stick. We, unaware of the toll of ageing, laughed playfully and remarked, "Akwetu Kamweenda twiikulupike, ondhimbo oya shike?" ("Why are you using a walking stick? You will make yourself look old!")
She gently reminded us that age was catching up with her and that she could no longer walk to the church nearby. She revealed that she was 89 years old, a fact that left us in awe, as she had always remained energetic and youthful in spirit.
As time passed, we noticed the gradual transformation, the slowing steps, the softening features, the inevitable, dignified journey of ageing. A few years later, I learned with sadness that she had moved to live with her youngest daughter in another village, her strength finally succumbing to the years.
We were truly blessed to have lived alongside Kuku Kasheshe. She taught us discipline, faith, compassion and the true meaning of community in an African context. Her passing marks not merely the end of a life but the conclusion of an era. She was the last living representative of her generation in our village, a tireless, loving woman, always as busy as the locusts that symbolised her clan.
At 97 years, her death is not a moment of sorrow alone but a celebration of an extraordinary life well lived. Her legacy is woven into the lives she touched and the community she so faithfully served.
As we bid farewell to our beloved Kuku Kasheshe, we do so with hearts full of gratitude. Her life was a beacon of resilience, faith, compassion, and communal spirit. In her passing, we are reminded of the values that define us, unity, respect, and selfless service. May her soul rest in eternal peace, and may her enduring legacy continue to inspire generations yet to come. We remain eternally grateful for the gift of her life and the indelible mark she has left on our community.
Born into the Locust Clan (Aakwambahu), Kuku Kasheshe was a proud mother to six daughters and three sons. Today, her descendants stand among the largest contributors to the growth and spread of the Aakwambahu lineage.
Kuku Kasheshe was the matriarch of our village; many of us were nurtured under her wise and loving guidance. Though not all of us were her biological grandchildren, she treated every child with the same unconditional affection and discipline that only a true matriarch could embody.
I vividly recall memories from the late 1980s, when, as our immediate neighbour, she was entrusted by my parents with the role of Omuhahithi, a traditional community meat broker responsible for managing the sale and exchange of meat following a livestock slaughter, typically for mahangu grains or money.
Whenever there was to be a slaughter at our home, I was tasked with running to her house to inform her. Our communication was unique and playful: I would run along the other side of our camp fence, climb a pole, and shout, "Hello, hello, am I on air?" to which she would warmly respond, "Hello, hello, yes, you are on air my grandchild." I would then relay the message, and she would arrive shortly thereafter to facilitate the ohaha (the trading of meat).
We kept this delightful tradition alive for years. It was during these moments that Kuku Kasheshe prophesied my future as a radio announcer, a prediction that came true when I began my career at NBC Radio as a media student. She was immensely proud of my journey and often reminded others that my path to becoming a media personality was evident even during my childhood.
Kuku Kasheshe epitomised the spirit of African neighbourhood values. She was dearly loved and respected by all the elders in the village. As young boys in the early 1990s, we often found ourselves at the receiving end of her strict, yet loving, discipline, especially when we neglected our livestock duties and the animals strayed into her mahangu fields. Full of energy and remarkable agility, Kuku Kasheshe would not hesitate to chase after us and whip us when we misbehaved. It was well understood among all families that her scolding was an act of communal care and responsibility, not cruelty.
In addition to discipline, she imparted to us the foundations of Christianity. I fondly recall the evenings spent at her home, gathered around the fire as she taught us to sing hymns and pray. On occasions when she was invited by schoolteachers to lead prayers at school events, we, as children, did not like it, as we often found her prayers too lengthy, but as we matured, we came to appreciate the profound faith and strength those prayers embodied.
My family was particularly blessed by her generosity. Her bond with my parents and grandparents was unbreakable. She cared for our grandmother during her final years after suffering a stroke, tending to her with the tenderness and devotion of a sister.
A life well lived
One Christmas Day in 2017, we hosted a family feast under a tree and invited Kuku to join us. It was then that some of us saw her for the first time using a walking stick. We, unaware of the toll of ageing, laughed playfully and remarked, "Akwetu Kamweenda twiikulupike, ondhimbo oya shike?" ("Why are you using a walking stick? You will make yourself look old!")
She gently reminded us that age was catching up with her and that she could no longer walk to the church nearby. She revealed that she was 89 years old, a fact that left us in awe, as she had always remained energetic and youthful in spirit.
As time passed, we noticed the gradual transformation, the slowing steps, the softening features, the inevitable, dignified journey of ageing. A few years later, I learned with sadness that she had moved to live with her youngest daughter in another village, her strength finally succumbing to the years.
We were truly blessed to have lived alongside Kuku Kasheshe. She taught us discipline, faith, compassion and the true meaning of community in an African context. Her passing marks not merely the end of a life but the conclusion of an era. She was the last living representative of her generation in our village, a tireless, loving woman, always as busy as the locusts that symbolised her clan.
At 97 years, her death is not a moment of sorrow alone but a celebration of an extraordinary life well lived. Her legacy is woven into the lives she touched and the community she so faithfully served.
As we bid farewell to our beloved Kuku Kasheshe, we do so with hearts full of gratitude. Her life was a beacon of resilience, faith, compassion, and communal spirit. In her passing, we are reminded of the values that define us, unity, respect, and selfless service. May her soul rest in eternal peace, and may her enduring legacy continue to inspire generations yet to come. We remain eternally grateful for the gift of her life and the indelible mark she has left on our community.
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