Tomorrow Shall Dawn
Watching power changing hands at the mainstay of the Namibian Defence Force made The Villager think of the song, ‘If tomorrow never comes.’
Given enough volume, The Villager can take tap from his romantic side by singing along.
Sometimes late at night
I lie awake and watch her sleeping
She’s lost in peaceful dreams
So I turn out the lights and lay there in the dark
And the thought closes my mind
If I never wake in the morning
Would she ever doubt, the way I feel
About her in my heart.
If tomorrow never comes
Will she know how much I love her?
Did I try in every way to show her every day
That she’s my only one
And if my time on earth were through
And she must face this world without me
Is the love I gave her in the past?
Gonna be enough to last
If tomorrow never comes
‘Cause I have lost love once in the my life
Who never knew how much I love them
Now I live with the regret
That my true feelings for them never where revealed
So I made a promise to myself
To say each day how much she means to me
And avoid that circumstance
Where there is no second chance to tell her how I feel
So tell that someone that you love
Just what you are thinking of
If tomorrow never comes
Tomorrow shall definitely dawn. Thus you better tell Villagers how you feel. Even if it’s just to fill a generation gap. Villagers would never have a headache next time when there is an opening. That’s the only way you can close the door on the Gorbachevs of this world.
Villagers in uniform have shown the way. Why? Sing along on the chorus.
One thing for sure is that when he underwent his first military training in 1976, Tanzania, he never knew that he was going to ascend to the highest position in the army of an independent Village.
Neither did the then military instructor know that he was going to hand over power to his junior cadet in a free Village one day. All he knew was that this cadet was no ordinary cadet. He rose within the People’s Liberation Army of Namibia’s (PLAN) ranks to become the Regional Chief of Reconnaissance in the then Peter Kalangula’s North. That was no easy achievement for a shy but observant villager hailing from the sandy Mahundu reserves, in Caprivi.
All his academic and practical achievements are military related. He counts among the most able and battle tested seasoned soldiers of his time.
He lacks no political orientation.
He completed Party School in the early eighties in the former Union of Soviet Socialist Republic (USSR). Joining the cream alumnus of the Hifikepunye Pohambas of this world. He is indeed among a rare breed whose military journey has taken him to staff colleges in the United Kingdom and the United States, just to mention but a few.
The Villager joins the chorus of Chief of Defence Lt General Ndenga Ndaitwah in elevating him. The parade was educated that, “there’s no school in the world which trains Generals. You earn it on a battle field (on the job). And it’s bestowed on you by your fellow professionals, in this case, soldiers,” says Retired Major General, Ndaxu Namoloh who is the Minister of Defence.
Coincidentally, a week earlier The Villager had a talk with a long time friend, who is a qualified accountant. They were talking about how people become greats in their professions. Her take is: “you don’t become a great accountant based on public account. You are taken into the hall of fame by your equals”.
That made The Villager’s mind to start racing. Having been a soccer player, it made perfect sense. Great footballers are chosen by their teammates. Sam Nujoma started it by passing on the baton of power to Hifikepunye Pohamba. Apart from the fact that they are of the same generation of leaders, they come a long way together.
The Villager has always maintained that the generational gap manifesting itself in the political landscape in The Village is by design and therefore artificial. When the push comes to shove, Villagers can easily recall tested cadres deployed in Government.
Let The Villager be the last to talk about it. You owe nobody an explanation. It will be a sad day if the button of leadership is passed on to the Gorbachevs of the Village.
It’s a reverse logic to see a former President being celebrated and showered with all sorts of praises and accolades outside his own village. And the reason is simple, for destroying the unique moral fibre of his village and embracing a foreign culture in the name of democracy. The Villager thought such madness ended with the Stone Age when villagers in the dark villages abandoned their religions for Christianity? Indeed, fools never learn. All that was needed was to perfect the system to benefit the majority. After all omuntu iha yela afa eyi (no one is clean like an egg).
The Villager subscribes to the notion that no tomorrow’s generation can respect and honour with dignity a preceding generation if it was looking away from itself.
You need not agree with The Villager on the latter. However, be noble and civilised. Convince him on whether the first 10 years after Kenneth Kaunda, his Villagers benefited from the democratic vote they delivered or the self serving Villager clearly suffers from the Napoleonic syndrome. And! Ooh!
The sponsors of regime change. Why drag your own nationalist and patriotic yesteryear’s leaders to court? How do you hold your head high among the global village with oshilongo kaashina aakuluntu (a country without heroes/reference)?
Thereby shamefully attempting to deny the rest of Villagers of the legacy of founding fathers and mothers of the African revolution.
It was in that madness of a laboratory where the concoction of “privatization” was prioritized and bit itself on the tail.Closing the borders has greatly benefited the little people of Asia.
Some countries in Asia graduated from Third World status in one generation with the help of the West. Some did it the hard way. You have to go to China to appreciate and treasure the end result of building a system with a national character. What do they credit their achievements on? Both Singaporeans and Chinese will you tell that they are building a democracy with their national character.
Who doesn’t know that in order for a wound to heal, it must heal from inside first? In the same token, you don’t give away keys to the Village in the name of transparency. That is compromising the security of the very same people who depend on your wisdom.
Thus, sometimes in the Village you need to close your house opo kuukombe kondje mo megumbo omwanyata (to avoid cleaning outside while it’s filthy inside). The reputation of any organisation or set up depends on its people. Thus for the integrity of the Village to remain intact, you have to hand it over to a villager whom when they see him or her coming, they do not know whether to shake his or her hand or freeze.
According to her, “that’s what is called respect in some circles and fear in an organised village”. The accountant is amazing. “No one can be greater than his or her generation,” she proclaims. The Villager loves her for that.
Now that you know that it pays to “avoid circumstances where there is no second chance”, Villagers should not plan to fail tomorrow’s generation. The funny thing about Villagers is the fact that they confuse power with comfort. Nakale ya Nakale would say, wadimbwa nee nai ni? Kutja? In their Village one can never be classified as omulumentu if your aanegumbo ohaa ka suulula puushiinda. Even worse if you have your children appreciating ontaku yopuushiinda (reach traditional brew).
The Villager is told that there was a time when some villagers in a neighbouring village used to think other neighbours were stupid and backward when they were admiring their ontaku. That was until aadhungi yontaku (brewers) started to push for a regime change. At 65, he finds himself as an ardent advocate for a free global visa. Why? To enable him to get employment. Hmmm! Forgetting that iilongo yaantu iha yi lililwa yo iha yi likolwa omatanga.
Forgive those who speak French openly konima shi ya kuta (after they have amased wealth). Ndjono Ombwa ta yi fulu oshini (those are anarchist). The best way is to close eshisha on them quietly.
Fellow Villagers, would it not be sustainable if each Villager in any position of authority, command, leadership be it political, economical, religious, traditional will be in a position to say “I am proud to hand over the authority to my own product, the man I trained myself and transformed from civilian life to military life,” says Retired Major General Peter Nambundunga in handing over the instrument of power to Major General John Mutwa. (See the Prime People section).
The Villager does not listen to the sound of his tears easily. He did at that occasion. “When undergoing military training at Kongwa, Tanzania, I observed positive attributes and characters in him and because of that I appointed him to lead a Section and placed under his command elderly people. I gave him the name “Capacity”. “Why?” Wanted to know the mischievous class led by Major General (Rtd) Ndaxu Namoloh, Minister of Defence. I observed a strong mental capacity in him.”
It was enough to put a smile on the otherwise nervous and emotional Mutwa’s face. The Villager is certain that had it not been for his military training, he would have not finished his acceptance speech. He was overtaken by emotions. The humble Mutwa undertook to “maintain discipline” and promote capacity building in the army. The Villager has learned from one of his mentors, the late Jacobina Ihuhua that “you can never say you have closer affinity and trust somebody until you gave them a nickname.” Just rewind. Who is Kapitaholo? And who gave him that name?
The one million dollar question is: What are the Villagers going to say to you or about you ‘If tomorrow never comes’. You owe it to yourself. Why would you need tomorrow if you have today? PF