The woman pointed to a narrow footpath behind the houses in Area 7, the largest informal settlement in Lüderitz, “Here we go home,” she said. “This is where we feel most insecure,” she added.

Around her, a small group of neighbours nodded. Others added their own markers to the large map spread out on the ground: an unsafe playground; a street where children refuse to walk alone. None of these risks appeared on city maps. They were made visible for the first time not by satellite images or consultants but by those who experienced them. 

Lüderitz, once a quiet coastal town in Namibia, is transforming due to emerging industries like green hydrogen.

The world is urbanising at a pace that far exceeds the institutional capacity of many cities. More than half of humanity, 55%, already lives in cities. By 2050, this number will rise to 70% or about 7 in every 10 people. Most growth occurs in smaller and secondary cities, where infrastructure and data systems are weakest. 

70% of cities face climate change impacts like extreme heat, rising sea levels, and droughts. Vulnerabilities are gender-specific, emotional, and fluctuate with seasons, time, and mobility. Lüderitz’s recent vulnerability mapping was a democratic act, unlike cities that build blindly. Acting as experts in their environment, residents identified footpaths, hot spots, safe playgrounds, and preferred lighting sites. 

The maps serve as tools for dialogue and trust-building among authorities, decision-makers, and residents who had difficulty understanding one another. 

This local knowledge is vital for modern urban development. Vulnerability mapping, when done correctly, follows multi-layered principles. It shows precisely where risks exist, whether they come from the way neighbourhoods are built or from natural features like steep slopes, fierce winds or rising water. It examines vulnerability from various angles, how people live, move, earn, and if neighbourhoods have essential services. 

It operates at different scales, from a single footpath to wider city patterns of safety, access, and opportunity. Importantly, it looks ahead, helping communities and leaders anticipate how new industries, population growth, or climate change could alter risks. Lüderitz isn’t alone in needing this clarity. 

Globally, when cities lack understanding of residents’ risks, consequences become painfully clear. 

The issue isn’t just the absence of vulnerability maps, but the lack of insight they provide, which could prevent or lessen harm.

The irony is that the global community already recognises the importance of localised, data-driven adaptation, at least in rhetoric. Yet, less than 10% of global climate finance goes to local efforts, and only 29% supports adaptation, even though developing countries will need US$140 billion to US$300 billion annually by 2030 to cope with escalating climate impacts. Cities are expected to build resilience while lacking the very resources that make thoughtful planning possible and not only predictable funding, but also technical capacity, granular disaggregated data, enabling legislation, and the institutional stability required to safeguard communities. 

This is precisely where vulnerability mapping proves its worth. It plugs the gaps left by outdated datasets, distant decision-making, and planning systems that overlook the lived realities of ordinary people. Vulnerability mapping reveals risk clusters, affected populations, and daily life, helping cities plan policies and resources effectively. Critics call it slow, costly, or participatory, but the expense is minor compared to rebuilding or retrofitting after disasters. 

Ignoring risks shifts costs to the poorest, not saving money. 

The truth is simple; cities cannot respond to risks they do not see, and they can see the risks well if they ask the people who live with them. Lüderitz, at the cusp of the green industrial future, offers an important lesson for cities throughout the Global South. 

Industrial progress without social intelligence is a recipe for deepening inequality. 

Mapping vulnerability is not a luxury. It is the basis for integrated urban development that is safe, fair, and future oriented. 

If cities are serious about building resilience, protecting women and children, and ensuring that new industries do not repeat old mistakes, then they need to prioritise vulnerability mapping in every planning decision. Urban transformation should not begin with blueprints created in distant offices.

It should start with an on-the-ground walkable map, a circle of residents gathered around it, and the courage to ask a simple question: Where do you feel unsafe, and why?

*Vivian !Nou-/Gawaseb is an adviser to the GIZ Integrated Urban Development Project, which supports the Lüderitz Town Council and the Aus Settlement Office in strengthening urban management capacities, integrated spatial planning, and a just transition.