Heroes’ Day came and went, marked with speeches, wreaths, and reminders of the courage of those whose blood watered our freedom and fought for Namibia’s independence. We rightfully celebrate them, for without their sacrifice, we would not have the freedom we hold today, especially as millennials. But even as I listened to the commemorations, I found myself thinking of another kind of hero. The one who is seldom remembered in history books or mentioned on platforms of power. These are the women on the sides of the roads.
Every Namibian child, mostly us millennials, has a memory where a woman whose presence was constant, even if she wasn’t part of our family. Growing up in Swakopmund, I remember my route to school so clearly. However, this route was special because I knew all the women who sold fat cakes, and they, too, knew me. These were the women who constantly fed me.
As such, my contribution to the Namibian heroes is dedicated to the women selling fat cakes and sweets at the school gate. The ones behind the counter of the corner shop, who often give us onions and tomatoes in a plastic bag, knowing sometimes we didn’t have enough to pay in full. The one who, without complaint, woke up before dawn to prepare meals for a house full of children, whether her own or not.
These women are not adorned with medals or titles. They are seldom named in commemorative speeches. Yet, they are the hands that kept us alive when life stretched us thin. Their small acts of generosity and the extra spoonful of porridge, the quiet “you can pay me later,” the fat cake slipped into a child’s hand, these were as vital as any act of courage on the battlefield.
In a country where food insecurity is a daily reality for many, these women are the front-line defenders against hunger. They always provide, even with so little. Their heroism is quiet but enduring. It is written in full bellies, in the energy of schoolchildren who can concentrate because they ate that morning, in the small economies that survive because of their persistence. When we speak of national heroes, perhaps it is time we broaden the definition to include those whose service is not written in history books but in the survival of everyday people.
As we reflect on Heroes’ Day, let us remember the women who still hold our communities together, not with weapons or speeches, but with food, love, and resilience. For many of us, our first heroes were not in uniform. They were in aprons.
*Frieda Mukufa’s lifestyle section in the New Era concentrates on women-related issues and parenting. She also specialises in editing research proposals, proofreading and content creation.
– etuholefrieda@ gmail.com