Fernando Gaweseb
Fernando Gaweseb

From food banks to the ballot

"The remarkable rise of Fernando Gaweseb"
At just 24, Okahandja's youngest local authority candidate blends compassion, humor and community hustle proving that real change does not always wear a suit.
Aurelia Afrikaner
In the dusty streets of Okahandja, where neighbours still borrow sugar and gossip travels faster than Wi-Fi, one young man is rewriting what leadership looks like armed with nothing but sincerity, a smartphone and an unshakable belief in people.

Fernando Gaweseb born on 14 August 2001, raised by his grandmother after losing both parents and now the youngest first candidate on his party’s list for the upcoming local authority elections.

If you think politics is a cold game of strategy and slogans, Fernando will remind you. He’s more “boots on the ground” than “briefcase in the boardroom.”

His story does not begin in a fancy office but in the Children Helping Children church group, where he learned early that compassion feeds more than the stomach it feeds the soul.

By primary school, he was already a prefect at Nau-Aib Primary, rallying classmates for small acts of kindness.

High school only amplified that spark.

At JG van der Wath, he launched a school food bank, a simple but powerful idea. “Every Friday,” he recalls with a grin, “we would bring canned food and dry goods. Our life skills teacher became the chef of the day cooking for learners who did not have lunch.”

Volunteering

That initiative didn’t make the evening news, but for the hungry learners, it made all the difference.

“We didn’t have a budget,” he laughs, “but we had heart and some good tins of baked beans.”

After school, Fernando’s passion for people led him to volunteer at the Okahandja Municipality, helping out as a Public Relations Officer (PRO) unpaid, of course.

“Let’s just say I was the PRO before the PRO existed,” he jokes.

But volunteering was not about titles for him, it was about access. He noticed that many residents, especially in informal settlements, had no idea what the municipality was doing.

To fix that, Fernando started doing live streams, creating colorful posters, and sharing simple updates in everyday language.

“If the people can not come to the information,” he quips, “then the information must go live!”

What Fernando discovered in his volunteer days shook him.

“Our biggest problem is not just poverty,” he says, “it’s a lack of information.”

Confusion in campaign

He explains how political opportunists sometimes feed people misinformation, manipulating their struggles for votes.

“You’ll find people protesting,” he says with a sigh, “not even sure what they’re protesting about just that someone told them to. That’s not empowerment; that’s confusion in campaign T-shirts.”

Turning the town into an industrial hub that offers real jobs, not just handouts, is one of his dreams.

“Our people do not want food parcels,” he says. “They want land, dignity and work.”

He believes that development shouldn’t be a mystery whispered behind municipal doors.

“If there’s a budget, let it be used for its purpose. And if there’s land, let it serve the people not gather dust.”

Behind Fernando’s calm confidence is a woman who shaped his spirit, his grandmother.

Despite his serious goals, Gaweseb does not take himself too seriously. “Politics can be stressful,” he grins, “so sometimes you just have to laugh, especially when your community meeting has more goats than people.”

His story is one of grit, gratitude and grassroots love. From organising food drives to navigating municipal red tape, he’s already living the kind of leadership: humble, honest and human.

“If politics was just about power, I would have quit long ago. I’m here because I care and because baked beans still remind me that every act of kindness counts.”

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Namibian Sun 2026-02-07

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