Rhingo Mutambo
One year ago, Dr Sir Alex Jarimbovandu Kaputu departed into ancestry, but his memory lingers on. I still remember his death as if it was yesterday. Following his death on 9 March 2021, many good orators have spoken about this fallen hero, renowned historian, anthropologist, folklorist, a big dreamer, the chronicler of note and a linguist – a good friend to the young and old alike. Others rightfully referred to him as a walking library, or an antique encyclopedia.
At the time of his death, Kaputu was 69 and I was 43 - a whole 26 years yard of difference, yet he had profound respect and time for me and called me “panga randje” (my friend) or “muatje womuhona (son of my senior)”. I called him Tjikuume (grandpa) as he sported the same patriclan name, Omukuendata, as my biological grandfather.
He once surprisingly made time to come to my house for coffee, instead of me going to his house to deliberate on his history book dream. He was my friend. Here, I want to narrate how we we met, project plans we had, what I have learned from him, how he inspired me, and how much I will miss this legend.
As a young man back in the 80s, I innocently took keen interest in indigenous people’s (IP) culture by listening to Kaputu on the NBC Otjiherero radio every evening at 10pm and Saturdays at 11am, which further solidified my interest in IP culture and rights, particularly a UN-endorsed issue of cultural self-determination and prohibition of forced assimilation. That is a conversation for another day.
At that time, I did not even understand the cultural dynamics, neither did I agree with everything grandpa Kaputu said. At worst, I was at variance with his belief in ancestral spirits or forefathers. I simply felt it was too extreme and overrated. This accounted for the variance, as I grew up in a strong Christian home. However, it is his relentless teaching which flamed my interest in the African indigenous people’s cultural values and history. On a personal note, he further inspired me to trace the Mutambo genealogy and the linkage to Tjerije, Kuhanga and Kambazembi of Onguatjindu, of which a family book is a work in progress. One hopes that it will not be another lost book dream.
I regret to inform you that his long-awaited big dream of writing a book on Ovaherero culture, entwined with Namibian history, which we planned to start early in 2021 after my MBA studies, now appears to have been obliterated by his absence. As a friend does, we also communicated regularly on WhatsApp, calls and Facebook. In response to follow- ups on the book project, on 17 January 2021, he told me that he will be coming to Windhoek so that we could start with the conceptualisation of the book.
“Muatje womuhona wandje, ouzeu womutjise mbwi mbwa wayandja omahandero movina (referring to Covid-19). Ami ngunda mbiri kOmbakaha hiyeya nu kotjihuro ho meya ovanatje woskole tjiva yarukamo (my senior’s son, it is only this disease which has halted things. I am still at Ombakaha, I didn’t come to that city yet. I will come when the children go back to school).” He also affectionately referred to me as “muingona wandje (my favourite)”, and I am sure that is how he referred to many others too. If you heard him speak from a distance, you would think he is a cruel and harsh person, but he was a gentle giant and a people’s person.
Talking about Ombakaha, he once also told me an interesting story about where he came from, and the journey of his parents from Ombakaha in Kaokoland. He said Ombakaha in the Omaheke region was actually named after Ombakaha in Kaokoland and even the Omutandu (praise of the place) is the same; Ombakaha yohange novineya (Ombakaha, a place of peace and shrewdness).
On 7 December 2020, I asked him via Facebook who was Kaondeka kaTjombua, whom the Waterberg mountain was named after. This was his response: “Meya kOtjomuise ekuziri Kaondeka (I will come to Windhoek to answer the question about Kaondeka)”. Little did I know that that answer will never come, and that his coming to Windhoek in March 2021 would be different from what I had expected.
In retrospect, however, despite our polarised beliefs, there was one thing that brought us together - our mutual commitment to setting the cultural record straight, whether or not it is idealised as wrong or right.
His daughter Tjara Kaputu, who was an English lecturer at NUST, proofread my first book titled Wrongly Framed-Western Perspective VS Indigenous African Culture (with specific focus on AIDS and Sexuality), which was published in 2015.
Sir Alex Jarii Kaputu did not only write a very sweet foreword for the very same book, he also took time to read through my book manuscript and provided me with valuable input that enriched its
content.
His son Kambarure Kaputu organised my first public lecture at Unam on indigenous people’s rights and cultural misinterpretation under the Otjiuana Cultural Groups in 2015.
Back in 2009, Kaputu gave me a short-lived opportunity as a radio announcer at the NBC Otjiherero radio, and introduced me to veteran radio anchors like Uzeraije Kapika Tjazerua, Uzera Kariko, Tjizo Tjaveondja, Mberijameka Hengari, Rukero and others.
Dr Kaputu, Dr Jekura Kavari and Commissioner Gerson Tjihenuna were the three giants who gave me the confidence in denouncing the constant but subtle African cultural re-engineering by the Western ideological superstructures (religion, education, culture and politics).
As we commemorate the life and contribution of this giant to Namibia and the world, we should reflect on ways to keep alive his dream to archive and narrate African indigenous people’s rich history and cultural heritage. I will be part of this endeavour, my friend. Continue to rest in eternal peace.