Why Are Pensioners Searching for Money That Should Be Searching for Them?

One thing I have noticed over the years is how easily we confuse activity with action. We establish committees. We hold consultations. We produce reports. We discuss strategies for the elderly, social welfare, poverty alleviation and inclusion. Yet somewhere in a bank account, an insurance fund, a pension scheme or an investment portfolio, an elderly Namibian is sitting without money that already belongs to them.

The conversation around elder care often starts in the wrong place.


We talk about new programmes when we should be talking about access. We discuss future interventions when we have not fixed existing administrative failures. We debate budgets while billions of dollars in dormant financial assets remain trapped in systems that ordinary citizens cannot navigate.

Whenever these debates come up, I find myself coming back to a simple question: What is the fastest way to improve the life of an elderly person today?

The answer may be simpler than we think. Find their money and return it to them.

I say this as a tracer with over a decade of experience. People may suspect that money is due to them, but have no idea where to begin.

Across Namibia, there are unclaimed pension benefits, forgotten insurance payouts, dormant investment funds and inactive bank accounts. Behind every one of those entries on a financial ledger is a human story. Maybe it is a retired teacher who changed address to Henties Bay. A former Fishcor worker whose records became fragmented after being laid off. A widow who never knew her husband had a policy or where he had it. A family that used to receive the money through a trust, but now lack the knowledge (or airtime) to navigate a complicated claims process.

For many elderly citizens, these funds are not a bonus. They are the difference between buying food and going hungry. Between collecting medication and postponing treatment. Between dignity and dependence. The problem is not that these monies exist. The problem is that the system appears designed to wait rather than to find. This is where consumer protection and elder care become the same conversation.

A business, whether a bank, insurance company, or even a burial society, may argue that information is incomplete, or the customer failed to contact them to update their contact details, or that records are outdated or there are administrative difficulties. I understand those challenges are real from my experience as a tracer working for companies that want to get more information that will allow communication between them and a client.

However, during the decade I have been doing tracing, I realised that even this process is sometimes flawed. When the company is not able to “validate” these tracing particulars, because the calls to validate are made during working hours, or come from a corporate number that the beneficiary might believe is a debt collector, the record is passed on to the Master of the High Court. This then becomes the beneficiary's “problem”.

Since March 2026, I have digitised the Government Gazettes published between 2014 and 2026 and shared them across social media, newspaper comments and television. I noticed that once beneficiaries have this information, the obstacles of collecting it become even bigger. Collecting a claim form becomes incredibly difficult if you do not reside in Windhoek or Oshakati. Handing in the claim form to the fund administrator sometimes means finding ways to get it to the place where their offices are located. Not every town has an Old Mutual, Metropolitan or Alexander Forbes branch. I have come to believe that handing over the monies to the Master’s Office might make it harder to collect, not easier.

Coming back to the institutions holding these monies, we should also recognise that businesses have little incentive to spend money searching for beneficiaries. Every year that funds remain unclaimed, those monies remain within systems that can support investments, cash flow and day-to-day operations. That does not make businesses evil. It simply reflects the reality that companies are structured to protect their assets and manage costs. That is precisely why independent oversight matters.

That is precisely why governments exist. Businesses are designed to protect their money. Citizens need government to protect theirs.

The Administration of Estates Act of 1965 recognised this principle decades ago. The legislation provides mechanisms for unclaimed monies to be published in government gazettes and transferred to the Master of the High Court. The intention was clear. Financial institutions were not supposed to become permanent custodians of forgotten consumer assets. The challenge is that compliance becomes extremely difficult to verify.

Put yourself in the shoes of a pensioner who discovers that money belonging to them was classified as unclaimed years ago. How would that person know whether genuine attempts were made to contact them? How would they know whether the money continued earning interest fairly throughout that period? How would anyone outside the institution verify that reasonable tracing efforts took place before the funds were handed over as unclaimed? The reality is that most consumers cannot answer those questions because the information sits inside private administrative systems. The result is an information gap. And whenever consumers are forced to make decisions without access to the same information as the institution holding their money, they start at a disadvantage.

Over the years, my work in data systems has repeatedly shown me that most governance failures are not caused by a lack of legislation. They are caused by a lack of information visibility. The solution therefore does not lie in making another report, but rather in creating infrastructure.

I have proposed before, and do so once again, that Namibia establish a national unclaimed assets register that integrates information from pension funds, insurers, banks, unit trusts, deceased estates and other financial institutions. Participation by businesses should be mandatory and reporting should be standardised. The information should be searchable by citizens through secure digital and physical channels.

If a pension fund, insurance company or bank simply reports the surname, initials and a benefit amount and publishes them in a location, it does not mean much to a consumer. It should report it into a unified system and participate in tracing programmes. Banks should not simply classify accounts as inactive. They should see it as their responsibility to contribute information that assists with reunification efforts.

As I worked through years of Government Gazettes, one question kept bothering me: why is the pensioner expected to find the money, instead of the money finding the pensioner? Once funds have been handed to government administration, the process should change completely. An elderly citizen should not have to travel, make dozens of phone calls or navigate unfamiliar bureaucracy to recover assets that already belong to them. If government can match taxpayers to tax records, vehicle owners to licence renewals and citizens to identity documents, surely it can use the same tools to reunite people with their own money. The real test of the system is not whether the information was published somewhere. The real test is whether reasonable efforts were made to find the person before expecting the person to find the information.

Within Government and at the Master of the High Court, we need to treat the recovery of unclaimed monies as a national service delivery programme. Because that is exactly what it is. Now I know some people will argue that government has bigger priorities. I disagree. Why? Let me explain: if an elderly Namibian is struggling to buy bread while money legally belonging to them sits inside a dormant account, then that is a priority; if a widow cannot afford transport to a hospital while an unclaimed insurance benefit exists somewhere in the financial system, then that is a priority; if pensioners spend long years navigating bureaucracy to prove ownership of their own assets, then that is a priority.



The real measure of a society is not found in policy documents or strategic plans, but rather it is found in the small moments that affect daily life. The pension that is collected without unnecessary delays. The forgotten bank account reunited with its owner. The insurance benefit, whether pension or death benefit, paid to a family that needs it.

When we speak about caring for the elderly, perhaps the first question should not be how much money the government needs to spend. Perhaps that first question should be how much money already belongs to our senior citizens and why it has not been returned. Because before we create new promises for tomorrow, we should make sure we have delivered what is already owed today. And if we cannot build systems that help an elderly citizen recover their own money, what kind of future are we really building for our children? 

Because in the end, the question is not whether the money exists. The question is why the burden of finding it still falls on the people who need it most.


The Cost of Short-Sightedness: What Botswana Taught Me About Foot-and-Mouth Disease

The foot-and-mouth disease presently affecting Namibia since September 2026 brings me back to wondering why we do not do more advance planning in Namibia. 

I was the Botswana Export Development and Investment Authority (BEDIA) representative during the early 2000s and remember visiting the country by road and being surprised by the strict controls at the border, which included checks for meat products and having all visitors wash their feet or shoes before entering the country. Being my usual curious self, I asked why and was told it was to manage foot-and-mouth disease from entering the country.

This seemed "funny" as we did not have foot-and-mouth disease in Namibia until I was reminded that this was only the case south of the Red Line. As I was entering via the then Caprivi region, it was a necessary precaution.

On the drive to Gaborone, I noticed that, in general, there were very few fences demarcating farms and keeping animals within boundaries, which I thought was how we in Namibia managed the disease. Contrary to my assumption, I was told that Botswana actually uses one of the most extensive networks of veterinary fences in the world. However, I was told there is a distinct difference between the national veterinary cordon fences run by the government and the lack of individual farm fences in communal cattle-rearing areas.

In the years since, I also came to understand the growing debate over fences, as conservationists and some agricultural experts have pushed to move away from geographic fencing. Fences have severely disrupted wildlife migrations, leading to steep population declines in species like wildebeest and zebras that get cut off from water sources.

I brought up the issue of the border controls, and the lack of fences with BEDIA management, and they arranged for me to tour the vaccine production plant run by the Botswana Vaccine Institute (BVI) in Gaborone. The institute was set up back in 1978 as a state-owned enterprise, but it operates on a self-funding business model. What struck me during the tour was that they were not just producing foot-and-mouth vaccines for their own cattle farmers; they were effectively serving as the regional production hub for the whole SADC region.

During this visit, Botswana officials indicated a clear willingness to partner with Namibia in establishing such a plant in locally.

Unfortunately, when I brought up the topic with various role players in Namibia, they assured me we did not need such a plant. Fast forward to 2026 and we now have foot-and-mouth disease, and it is having a devastating effect on our economy.

Why do we not accept help from others and always seem to think we know best?


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.

Why Are Pensioners Searching for Money That Should Be Searching for Them?

One thing I have noticed over the years is how easily we confuse activity with action. We establish committees. We hold consultations. We pr...