How the South African Givernment managed its army in South West Africa

 South Africa took over Namibia (then South West Africa) in 1915 when it conquered the German colony during World War I. They later formalised its administration through the League of Nations in 1920. From 1915 to 1920, SWA was governed under martial law, which meant civil liberties and democratic processes were suspended. This meant the army was in control, with military commanders and military tribunals taking the place of police forces and the courts.

These army commanders relied on local military police units, militias and Citizen Force units to crush resistance such as the Bondelswarts (1922) and Rehoboth (1925) revolts. At the time, the northern boundaries of SWA were handled by the South African Police.

When the South West African People's Organisation's, (SWAPO), military wing, the People's Liberation Army of Namibia (PLAN)launched the Namibian War of Independence on 26 August 1966, the scale of the resistance was too much for the police units.

In June 1974, the Minister of Defence, P.W. Botha, announced that the South African Defence Force (SADF), would replace the police units, shifting the control from civil policing to a full conventional counter-insurgency war. Major General Johannes Geldenhuys divided the country into distinct military districts, with command centralised in Windhoek. During this period, South Africa created specialised counter-insurgency units such as KOEVOET, a counter-tracking police military unit, 32 Battalion, and the Reconnaissance Commandos (Recces). 

In August 1980, the SADF created the autonomous-looking South West African Territorial Forces (SWATF) to "Namibianise" the conflict. It comprised regional battalions led by South African career officers. These dedicated ethnic battalions were strictly established north of the Red Line in the northern tribal territories (for example, 101 Battalion for the Ovambo, 102 Battalion for the Kaokoland/Herero mix, 202 Battalion for the Kavango, and 201/203 Battalions for the San).

For the area south of the "Red Line", the military operated the multi-ethnic Swaaimag ("Swing Force" in English) because it swing between a conventional mechanised infantry unit with armoured cars and artillery to a Counter Insurgency Unit (COIN) bush unit to hunt SWAPO guerrillas. This was the 911 Battalion, comprised of Hereros, Damaras, Tswanas, Basters, and Coloureds. 

How the old South African Army was organised during the Border War era

Heavily influenced by British military traditions, the SADF relied on a mix of Permanent Force members, national service conscripts, and localised commandos.

Here is how the hierarchy looked from the ground up:

• Section (Seksie, colloquially referred to as Teksie) — ~10 Soldiers
• The smallest operational unit. Led by a Corporal or Corporal-Conscript, it was the basic building block of the infantry. These were often split into two smaller 5-man "Sticks" (Stokke), which could cover more ground and fit perfectly into the seating places in a Buffel, a mine-protected vehicle. 
• Platoon (Peloton) — ~30–40 Soldiers
• Consisted of 3 sections. Led by a Second Lieutenant (usually a young national serviceman) or a Lieutenant, assisted by a Platoon Sergeant.
• Company (Kompanjie) — ~100–120 Soldiers
• Made up of 3 to 4 platoons plus a headquarters element. Led by a Captain or Major. (In the Armour/Tank corps, this was called a Squadron, and in the Artillery, a Battery).
• Battalion / Regiment (Bataljon / Regiment) — ~500–1,000 Soldiers
• The first level to have a full headquarters staff, medical support, and logistical arms. Led by a Commandant (the SADF equivalent to a Lieutenant Colonel).
• Examples: 1 SAI (South African Infantry), 32 Battalion, or the elite 44 Parachute Regiment.
• Brigade (Brigade) — ~3,000–5,000 Soldiers
• A force combining multiple infantry battalions, armour, and artillery. Led by a Colonel or Brigadier.
• Examples: 61 Mechanised Battalion Group (which operated like a highly mobile mini-brigade), 81 Armoured Brigade, and 44 Parachute Brigade.
• Division (Divisie) — ~10,000–15,000 Soldiers
• The largest conventional tactical unit, combining multiple brigades and specialised support corps, led by a Major General. The SADF mainly operated the 7th South African Infantry Division and the 8th South African Armoured Division.
• The Territorial Commands (Kommandemente) or SWATF

The SADF layout was highly geographic

South Africa was split into regional "Commands" (like Witwatersrand Command, Natal Command, or Far North Command). These commands controlled local infrastructure, logistics, and the Commando System—the local home-guard militia units used for regional security.

All of this reported directly to the Chief of the Army and the SADF General Staff in Pretoria.

Differences between South Africa and South West Africa

The main difference between the SADF and SWATF was the conscription laws, as they differed between the two countries. South Africa strictly limited conscription to white males to maintain racial segregation, whereas in South West Africa, the draft was eventually expanded into a universal, multi-ethnic conscription system to force local populations to fight SWAPO.

In South West Africa (SWATF), conscription became completely multi-ethnic and universal across all races. Under the legal framework of Proclamation AG. 82 of 1980—issued by the South African-appointed Administrator-General—all male residents of SWA aged 18 to 25, regardless of race, became legally liable for compulsory military service. This meant Ovambo, Herero, Damara, Nama, and white Namibian men were forced into the draft together. It must be noted that conscripts were also mandated to undergo up to 2 years of initial training and frontline service, followed by a lighter localised reserve commitment via "Area Protection Units" (militias) or regional battalions.

Resistance to the Border War (and conscription)

In South Africa, anti-conscription movements like the End Conscription Campaign (ECC) gained traction among white liberals, university students, and religious objectors who faced up to six years in prison for refusing to serve. 

In SWA, conscription triggered mass outrage and a wave of exodus. Thousands of young black Namibians fled the country into Angola and Zambia specifically to evade the SWATF draft and, in many instances, cross over to join SWAPO’s military wing (PLAN) instead.

NB: The author was brought up as a white South African born in Windhoek and attended white schools around Johannesburg where military education was a school subject and white boys received their call-up papers at the same time they received their Identity Documents. He was already, in 1985, identified as officer material in the school army preparedness classes and was informed he was being called up to Air Force Base Waterkloof 

Endnote: The information I write here is based on history, both academic and from sources directly involved in the Border War

The E-Hailing Evolution: Why the Consumer Voice Matters

Published in The Namibian on 20 October 2026
For years, getting around Windhoek without your own vehicle meant relying on municipal taxis and shared taxis. It was not a perfect system, but it was the system most consumers had. You stood on the side of the road, flagged down a taxi and hoped the driver was going your way. Especially if you were not travelling from one specific address to another. Often you walked until you found a taxi heading in roughly the same direction and hoped it would get you close enough to where you wanted to be. Sometimes it worked well. Sometimes it did not. Prices were not always predictable, complaints often went nowhere and consumers generally had very little information about the service they were using.

The arrival of e-hailing changed much of that. When LEFA Transportation Services launched in 2018, it introduced something many consumers had not experienced before in public transport: choice. Later, companies such as Yango and inDrive entered the market and expanded those choices even further. Consumers could see where a driver was, follow their route and get an idea of the fare before getting into the vehicle. For many people, that was the real attraction. The technology was not important in itself. What mattered was that it solved problems that consumers dealt with every day. One thing I have noticed over the years is that consumers usually know what works long before policymakers do. If something makes life easier, people use it. That is exactly what happened with e-hailing. The industry grew because consumers embraced it, not because government had already worked out how it would fit into the transport system.

The problem was that the rules struggled to keep up. As e-hailing became more popular, traditional taxi operators increasingly questioned whether app-based services were competing on equal terms. Their concerns centred on permits, licences and compliance requirements. Whether one agreed with them completely or not, the issue was always going to end up on government's desk. Earlier this year, e-hailing operators were given 56 days to comply with transport regulations and ensure that drivers obtained public passenger permits and Professional Driving Permits. From a consumer point of view, that made sense. Consumers should expect that people transporting paying passengers meet basic legal and safety requirements.

The problem was never the requirement. The problem was the process. Almost immediately, delays and backlogs emerged as drivers tried to comply. Many wanted to follow the rules but found themselves waiting for permits and approvals while deadlines continued getting closer. For drivers who relied on e-hailing to earn a living, this created uncertainty and frustration. Consumers soon felt the effects as well. Fewer drivers on the road meant longer waiting times and fewer transport options, especially during busy periods. What started as a permit problem quickly became a consumer problem.

Of course, there is also the issue of cost. Fuel is not getting cheaper. Drivers now face permit fees and other costs linked to the new requirements. Somebody eventually pays for those costs. Some companies use fixed fares while others allow drivers and passengers to negotiate. More recently, eTaxi Namibia entered the market with a different approach. Instead of replacing traditional taxi operators, it is trying to bring them into the digital space as well. At the same time, consumers are beginning to raise concerns of their own. Reports of in-app delays have generated growing frustration, with some consumers claiming that drivers deliberately delay their arrival in order to increase waiting charges or fares. Maybe it only happens in a few cases. Maybe it happens more often than people think. Either way, the complaints raise questions.

Consumers also continue to complain about the cost of getting to and from Hosea Kutako International Airport. Disagreements between traditional operators and e-hailing services also show little sign of disappearing. Most consumers do not spend much time thinking about permits, regulations or disputes between operators. They simply want to know that when they need transport, it will be available, affordable and safe. There is also another reality that should not be ignored. Much of the discussion assumes that everyone has a smartphone, enough data and a reliable internet connection. The reality is that many Namibians do not. While e-hailing has made life easier for many people, others remain excluded simply because they do not have access to the technology needed to use these services.

As lawmakers continue working on the Public Transport Bill, it is important not to lose sight of the people who use these services every day. Transport is not really about apps, permits or competing business models. It is about getting people to work, school, medical appointments and home again. Drivers need a system that allows them to comply with the law without getting stuck in delays. Consumers need fair prices, safe transport and reliable service. Traditional operators need a fair chance to adapt, while e-hailing companies need to respond when consumers raise concerns.

Whenever these debates come up, I find myself coming back to a simple question: has life become easier for the consumer? Is it easier to find transport than it was a few years ago? Do people have a better idea of what they are likely to pay before a trip starts? Are they spending less time standing around waiting or walking around looking for transport? If the answer is yes, then consumers are benefiting from the changes taking place in the sector. If the answer is no, then perhaps that is where we should focus our attention. After all, the success of any transport system should not be measured by how well it works for government, operators or technology companies. It should be measured by how well it works for the person who simply needs to get home.

My Mother was not All-seeing

 I lost my mother in 1976 when I was not yet six. She was an accountant at a supermarket along one of the main roads in Pietermaritzburg. We lived on the ground floor at the back of the front street in the coloured area. Auntie Daphne owned the house, and we lived in the downstairs flat. We had moved there some three years previously from Windhoek, and I really enjoyed the greenery compared to the dust of Khomasdal and Windhoek. My father, William, worked at the Natal Times newspaper and was often gone for long periods because he was still an apprentice and had to go to Cape Town for training for up to four weeks at a time.

I remember walking with my mother and siblings, Arlene and Gerhard, through the veld that separated our house from the shop where she worked part-time as a bookkeeper. She was a teacher at the local primary school, teaching piano. The shop was located on the main road leading to Durban.

One day, I convinced my sister that we should go to the shop and buy sweets. I had picked up a half a cent, and instead of giving it to mother—I mean, who else would have dropped it in our house?—I kept it because I wanted to buy sweets. She agreed, so she and I set off to the shop, being very scared of the veld. We got there and bought some sweets. We ate them all on our way home.

That night, my mother asked if we had gone to the shop. I, of course, lied and said no. She said she had seen me, and I got a hiding for the lying and the stealing of the half a cent.

I had made sure she was not in the shop, so I wondered who could have told her—or was she just all-seeing?

Not too long afterwards, I was playing around her desk at the office when one of my toys fell on the floor under the desk, and I crawled to fetch it. Then I noticed behind her desk was a one-way mirror; she could see into the whole shop.

Then I knew: she was not all-seeing, but she had seen me.

Why I am an OG - Old Gangster

 The youngsters of today look at the digital world as if it has always existed. To them, connectivity is like oxygen—invisible, immediate, and everywhere. They navigate the web with a casual familiarity that often overlooks the foundation underneath it. When they use the term "OG" on me, I take it as a compliment. I am an Old Gangster of the internet, simply because I was there when we had to build the roads they are now driving on.

My digital journey began in the early 1990s right here in Windhoek. Long before the World Wide Web became a household name, I connected to CompuServe using one of the very first dial-up lines provided by South West Africa Telecommunications (SWASTEL). In those days, getting online required patience and a tolerance for the high-pitched screech of a modem fighting for a connection. If you have never experienced the tension of a 9,600-baud handshake, you do not know the true historical cost of data.

My perspective expanded significantly in 1993 when I lived in Paris. Europe offered a glimpse into a more fully integrated network ecosystem, showing what was possible when infrastructure meets demand. By 1994, I moved from consuming content to creating it. I built my first website from scratch using HTML 1.0. This was a time of plain text editors, grey backgrounds, and bright blue hyperlinks, where every single layout tag had to be written and closed manually.

Commitment to the medium eventually brought wider recognition. By 2006, I was an established Google publisher, with my platform attracting over 100,000 views a month. When Facebook launched its initial global expansion, I joined the platform in 2007. Since then, the tools have changed, but the core objective of digital communication remains the same.

What usually establishes my status with the younger generation, especially the gamers, is a minor detail from the past. They often assume that digital storefronts and online purchases are recent inventions. They tend to quiet down when they discover that my very first online purchase was a copy of DOOM back in 1996. This was long before instant one-click downloads; it meant manually routing an encrypted text order form through an early web browser and waiting weeks for the registered floppy disks to arrive by mail.

I accept the title of OG because my generation did not merely inherit the internet. We witnessed its arrival, adapted to its early limitations, and helped establish the space that users take for granted today.

Momentum and Metropolitan Are Breaking the Law

Ordinary Namibians are being robbed of transparency, and the corporate giants are getting away with it.

An explosive audit of unclaimed monies notices reveals a staggering pattern of corporate default. Out of thousands of records examined, a single corporate family—Momentum Group, Metropolitan, and Momentum Metropolitan—accounts for over 5,000 instances of publishing unclaimed beneficiary lists where they do not provide amounts as specified, as is MANDATORY under the law.

These funds belong to everyday citizens who have trusted these financial institutions with their life savings, pensions, and retirement annuities. Yet, when it comes to publishing statutory unclaimed notices in the Government Gazette, this corporate giant repeatedly leaves out legally required benefit amounts—making it impossible for families to know what is rightfully theirs.

These funds originate from just one company that is breaking the law in relation to all these clients.

We have to ask the hard question: Where is the regulator? Why does NAMFISA (Namibia Financial Institutions Supervisory Authority) allow this massive, systemic legal non-compliance to continue unchecked while vulnerable consumers lose out?

As consumers, we demand accountability. It’s time for Momentum and Metropolitan to obey the law, and it’s time for NAMFISA to do its job.

Unclaimed Insurance Policies in Namibia: Around 5,000 Policy Records Now Searchable Online

 Unclaimed Insurance Policies in Namibia: Around 5,000 Policy Records Now Searchable Online

For over a decade, hundreds of millions of Namibian Dollars in active, matured, or deceased-member insurance policies have sat dormant across local financial institutions. Under Section 93 of the Administration of Estates Act, long-term underwriters are legally required to publish lists of unclaimed monies in the official Government Gazette. However, because these printed records are difficult for ordinary citizens to access and search, many families remain entirely unaware that funds are rightfully owed to them.

To address this information gap, Intelligent Tracing Solutions (IT Solutions) has compiled and published a centralised, searchable index of unclaimed insurance policies and monies in Namibia.

What Is in the Unclaimed Policy Database?

This digital register consolidates statutory publication notices issued in the Government Gazette between 2014 and 2026.

• Overall Repository: Over 31,000 normalised unclaimed monies records.

• Insurance Policy Lookup: Around 5,000 specific Namibian insurance policy entries featuring policy numbers.

• Underwriters Included: Major Namibian long-term insurance companies, including Old Mutual Namibia, Sanlam Namibia, Liberty Life, and Momentum Metropolitan.

• Key Identifiers Available: Policy numbers, beneficiary surnames, first names/initials, and dates of birth.

When information is hidden behind static PDFs or printed Gazette notices, citizens are left uninformed. By standardising and digitising these historical records, ordinary Namibians can now easily verify whether an old policy, pension payout, or family inheritance is waiting to be claimed before it is transferred to the Master of the High Court’s Guardian’s Fund.

How to Search for Your Name or Policy Number

If you suspect that you, a late relative, or a family member may have an uncollected life assurance, retirement, or funeral policy, you can search the database directly:

1. Access the Online Lookup Register: Search the database by surname, full names, or policy number using the direct lookup tool at [https://shorturl.at/8VP4t](https://shorturl.at/8VP4t).

2. Review the Results: Check the details against your records or family history.

3. Get Claim Assistance: If you identify a matching entry or policy number, send a WhatsApp message to Intelligent Tracing Solutions at +264 81 688 1368 with your full details for verification guidance and help with filing your claim.

Financial transparency and civic informaticism are essential for protecting consumer rights in Namibia. Take a moment to search the database today and share the link with friends and family—you may be holding the key to an unclaimed inheritance or policy payout that belongs to your family.

Driveway Ornaments, Yango Surge, and the Fuel Price Puzzle

A few weeks ago, I found myself revisiting a question I'd been putting off for some time: does it still make financial sense for me to own a car?

That question sent me down a rabbit hole of comparing electric vehicles, running the numbers, and taking an honest look at my actual driving habits. The conclusion surprised me: apart from the school run and the occasional trip to friends, my car spent most of its life standing still. It had become little more than a very expensive driveway ornament. Insurance, maintenance, fuel, and depreciation costs kept rolling in regardless of whether the vehicle moved or not.

So I sold it and started using Yango.

It’s been an interesting experiment. Most of the time it works exceptionally well. But when rush hour arrives, or month-end demand kicks in, you’re quickly reminded that transport costs don’t exist in a vacuum. They are affected by the same economic forces that affect everything else.

Even though I no longer pay directly at the pump, fuel prices still govern my ride-hailing fares, my commuting expenses, and my overall monthly budget.

If you've been watching developments in South Africa recently, the headlines are enough to make any commuter nervous. Analysts and industry observers have been warning about significant fuel price pressure as global oil markets remain volatile and currencies across emerging markets come under strain. Because Namibia and South Africa are so closely linked economically, many consumers automatically assume that whatever happens there will happen here.

That’s only partly true.

We share the same global challenges. Oil is traded in US dollars, and the Namibia dollar remains pegged to the rand. When the US dollar strengthens or crude oil prices rise, importing fuel becomes more expensive for both countries. What differs is how those costs are managed locally.

Last week, the Ministry of Industries, Mines and Energy announced a N1.50 per litre increase in the price of Petrol 95, taking the Walvis Bay price to N26.58 per litre. Diesel prices, however, were left unchanged at N27.86 per litre for Diesel 50ppm and N27.96 per litre for Diesel 10ppm.

On the surface, that distinction might seem like an academic detail to someone taking a Yango across Windhoek, but in reality, it is crucial.

Diesel is the fuel that powers the productive economy. It moves freight across the country, powers agricultural operations, feeds mining equipment, and keeps the logistics networks moving between businesses and consumers. By holding diesel prices steady, the government is effectively trying to stop higher fuel costs from spreading through the entire supply chain.

Petrol motorists are still taking a direct hit. A household filling up a 50-litre tank will pay about N$75 more every time they visit the service station. But that is very different from seeing transport, freight, and grocery costs all spike simultaneously.

That is why I don’t think this month is shaping up to be a full-scale fuel shock for Namibia. A squeeze? Yes. A shock? Not yet.

For most households, the bigger story remains the combined pressure of fuel costs, interest rates, and everyday living expenses. Many consumers are already spending more on debt repayments than they were a year ago. Adding higher petrol costs simply leaves a little less room in the monthly budget.

As consumers, we should also be careful about automatically accepting every price hike that gets blamed on fuel. Because diesel prices remained unchanged this month, businesses that depend heavily on road transport have not experienced a direct increase in their primary fuel cost. That doesn’t mean prices cannot rise for other reasons, but "fuel costs" should not become a convenient blanket explanation for everything.

My journey into electric vehicles started because I was trying to reduce my own transport costs. What it ultimately reminded me is that transport remains one of the most vital expenses in any household budget—whether you're driving a petrol vehicle, considering an EV, taking a Yango, or catching a local taxi.

And right now, that budget deserves a little more attention than usual.