During the course of last week’s news it was reported that a comrade has departed. This comrade belonged to a special generation of our youth. The generation that belonged to our mighty horse, NANSO. In 1988, the generation led by various gifted young leaders of that time, among them and most notably the late Axab Hendricks, awakened us one early morning. They took us, many still young, innocent and naÃÆ’Æ‘Æ‘ÃÆ”šÃ‚¯ve from the protective comfort of our mothers. They took us onto the only paved street in Katutura. They took us there because they said an injury to one should be an injury to all. They took us there because we were to answer the rumbling voices of the foot soldiers from the people’s liberation army, crying out for a final push, at the foot of that infamous dam. Among those gifted young ones, was a young man, very thin, whose legs would diverge downwards, singing and dancing in front of the Shifidi High School. That young man was Owen Shamena. During that whole year, Owen would remain committed to the struggle of our country. Like all of us, he also vowed to remain a street kid pending the arrival of Independence. I am speaking of a generation whose only entertainment and night stories were about the rubber bullets that left a mark, about another comrade that managed to give meaning to that old adage that ‘ekasperi karishi etuwa ra…’ (those were the days when we could sneak into a stranger’s house for a few seconds of refuge and comfort). Comrade Owen belonged to the visionary young generation of my country, spiritually long gone. I am speaking of the generation that changed the face of this country, those who decided to grow up early – the generation the Namibian poet, Joseph Molapong, calls ‘those who decided to stay behind to fight’. The 1988 generation decided to leave one by one. The generation is going too early and too soon. Yesterday they defied the laws of the time and, instead of studying and playing like all other young people, they took to the streets and remained put. Today, the generation is once again defying the laws of nature. The laws that expect those older in both age and wisdom to pass on and make way for the young ones. The laws of nature preventing the young, the less aged, the less ‘wisdomed’ to be mourned by the elders, and the elders never to bury the young ones. Has my society and its doings altered the laws of nature? Is this a wrath pouring from those long gone because of what came to be upon their land? The generation awakened by the Ponhofi ghosts decided to leave one by one to ‘where the sidewalk ends’ (Shel Silverstein). Though death continues to revel in our agony, awe, our unanswered questions, the tears of those close to the departed, it shall not kill our spirit of celebrating what once was. Men must die for his deeds to be seen – and seeing we shall, even if by a comrade that was next to you! Comrade, we bid farewell to you, the dancing, singing and playing one from the NANSO School of yesterday. Under the banner of all who shared yesterday with you, we say: RJ Kaumbi