For decades, Namibia has used the term “unclaimed monies” as if it were a harmless administrative label. In reality, it is a colonial legal leftover from South West Africa’s British–South African governance era — a phrase that has survived unchanged in our pension, insurance, and financial laws. But the real problem is not the language. It is the silence.
Behind every “unclaimed” dollar is a family that was never informed, a beneficiary who was never traced, or a worker whose contributions vanished into a bureaucratic fog. We have normalised a system where millions sit idle while households struggle to pay school fees, buy food, or cover medical care. And because the issue sounds technical, we treat it as someone else’s problem.
Other countries are not doing that.
In India, Prime Minister Narendra Modi launched a national mobilisation last year urging citizens to reclaim forgotten deposits, insurance payouts, and investments. His message was simple: “Here is a chance to convert a forgotten financial asset into a new opportunity. Take part in the ‘Your Money, Your Right’ movement.” India backed this with digital tools, district‑level outreach, and a public narrative that made reclaiming one’s money a right, not a favour.
The United Kingdom has gone even further. Its Dormant Assets Scheme reunites people with their money wherever possible — and only when that fails are funds channelled into social programmes. Nearly a billion pounds has already been redirected into youth development, financial inclusion, and community investment, while owners retain the right to reclaim their money at any time. It is transparent, rights‑based, and publicly accountable.
Namibia, by contrast, has no national campaign, no unified tracing system, and no public reporting standard. When I recently tried to book a meeting with a major IT company to discuss beneficiary‑tracing solutions, they declined because the topic “sounded suspicious”. That reaction says everything about how poorly we have framed this issue. Suspicion thrives where transparency is absent.
We need a national shift — not just in policy, but in mindset.
Unclaimed monies are not a mystery. They are the predictable result of weak communication, outdated systems, and a lack of political urgency. Namibia deserves a coordinated, public‑facing effort to trace beneficiaries, reunite families with what is rightfully theirs, and ensure that any truly dormant funds serve the public good rather than gather dust in institutional accounts.
This is not charity. It is justice.
And it is long overdue.
SIDEBAR:
Where the Term “Unclaimed Monies” Comes From
A colonial legal import:
The phrase “unclaimed monies” entered Namibian usage through South West Africa’s administration under South Africa, which itself inherited the term from British legal and financial practice. It appears in old company laws, estate administration rules, pension regulations, and banking statutes — always referring to funds held by an institution when the rightful owner cannot be located.
A term that survived independence:
When Namibia adopted and adapted South African legislation after 1990, the phrase remained intact. It was never translated into plain language or replaced with a more transparent concept like “benefits owed to families” or “unpaid claims”. As a result, the public hears a technical phrase instead of a human issue.
What it really means:
Behind every “unclaimed” dollar is a person who was never informed, a beneficiary who was never traced, or a family that never knew money existed. The term hides the human cost.
How other countries frame it:
- India speaks of “unclaimed deposits” and runs national campaigns urging citizens to reclaim what is theirs.
- The UK uses the term “dormant assets” and places the emphasis on reuniting people with their money before anything else happens to it.
Why the language matters:
Words shape public urgency. “Unclaimed monies” sounds like a harmless administrative category. In reality, it represents real households, real hardship, and real rights.
