Heroes’ Day: The children we must not forget

SERENAH NKUNKUMO WRITES:

Every 26 August, Namibia pauses to remember the sacrifices that were made in the liberation struggle. We remember those who fought, those who died, those who were imprisoned, those who were forced into exile and those who gave years of their lives to the cause of an independent Namibia. But as we commemorate our heroes, there is a question we should be willing to confront: Where are the children in our national memory?

I recently returned to the late Lucia Engombe’s Child No. 95: My German-African Odyssey. The experience was different from the first. With every page, I found myself thinking about a generation of Namibian children whose childhoods were shaped by a liberation struggle they did not choose.

Engombe’s story is not an isolated one. She was among the Namibian children who were taken to the former German Democratic Republic during the liberation struggle. In 1979, the first group of 80 children arrived in East Germany, and accounts of the programme indicate that hundreds of Namibian children were eventually raised there. These were children. That fact alone should change how we talk about this part of our history.

They were not political decision-makers. They did not design the liberation strategy. They did not choose to leave their homes, families and familiar surroundings. Yet their lives were profoundly shaped by decisions made in the context of a war and a struggle for national liberation.

Some were separated from their parents. Some spent years growing up in an unfamiliar country. They learned new languages and adapted to a completely different environment. They lived through experiences of displacement, separation and cultural dislocation.

For some, returning to an independent Namibia did not necessarily mean returning home in the emotional sense of the word. This is the part of our history that deserves greater attention.

There is no question that Namibia must honour those who fought and died for independence. Their sacrifices form an essential part of our national identity. But national remembrance should not be a competition over whose suffering was greater or whose contribution was more important. It should be an attempt to tell the whole story.

The liberation struggle was experienced differently by different generations. Some carried weapons. Some organised politically. Some provided shelter and resources. Some went into exile. Some were detained. Some lost family members. And some were children.

Their contribution may not fit neatly into the traditional definition of a “hero”, but their experiences are part of the price that was paid for the Namibia we have today.

A child does not have to carry a weapon to be affected by war. A child does not have to make political decisions to become part of political history. And a child does not have to die for their suffering to deserve remembrance. National memory should include both the celebrated and the forgotten. 

One of the greatest dangers facing Namibia’s liberation history is not only historical distortion. It is also historical silence. As the generation that experienced the liberation struggle ages, Namibia is losing people who carry firsthand memories of that period.

Books can preserve some stories. Archives can preserve documents. Monuments can preserve names. But none of these can fully replace a human voice telling us what it was like to live through history. This is why oral history matters. The testimonies of former exiles, children of the liberation struggle, families and communities should be deliberately recorded and preserved. These stories should not remain only within families, where they can disappear when the generation that experienced them is gone. They belong to the national historical record.

There have already been efforts to bring the story of the so-called “GDR children” into public discussion. Theatre, books and oral testimonies have helped bring their experiences to wider audiences. Child No. 95, in particular, brought one of these personal stories to a broad readership. But sporadic attention is not the same as institutional remembrance.

Perhaps Namibia needs to ask itself whether our commemorative culture adequately represents the complexity of our liberation history. Our museums, archives and schools should preserve and teach the experiences of children who lived in exile. Their stories should not be reduced to a paragraph explaining that “children were sent abroad for education”.

That description is factually insufficient and emotionally incomplete. We need to ask what happened to those children before, during and after exile. What did separation from parents mean? What did it mean to grow up speaking another language and living in another culture? What happened when children who had spent years abroad were suddenly expected to return to a country that was supposed to be their home? And, perhaps most importantly, how did those experiences shape the adults they eventually became? These are not merely historical questions. They are questions about memory, identity, trauma and nation-building.

Commemoration should not only make us feel proud. It should also make us think. A mature nation must be able to celebrate its liberation while honestly confronting the painful experiences that accompanied it.

Remembering the children of exile does not take anything away from those who are already recognised as heroes. On the contrary, it gives us a fuller understanding of what liberation meant. It reminds us that wars and political struggles do not affect only those who participate directly in them. They reshape families. They interrupt childhoods. They create generations of people carrying experiences they did not choose.

That is why the children of exile should not remain a footnote in Namibia’s liberation history. Their stories deserve to be documented. Their testimonies deserve to be heard. Their experiences deserve to be taught.

And their place in Namibia’s national memory deserves to be protected.

As we mark Heroes’ Day, let us therefore remember the soldiers, political leaders, activists, detainees and those who lost their lives. But let us also remember the children who were caught in the middle of history. They were children when they left. Many became adults carrying stories that Namibia still needs to hear.

If we are serious about remembering our history, we cannot remember only the comfortable parts. We must remember the children too. Because they were not merely witnesses to Namibia’s history. They lived it.

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