THE HONEST IMPACT with Gideon Kapuka

In Namibia’s public service, ninety-nine percent often means nothing. Candidates walk into interview rooms carrying scripts that are not theirs, memorized answers sold or leaked from the inside, and somehow emerge with near-perfect scores on written tests. But the illusion shatters in the oral interview, where comprehension crumbles and confidence evaporates, leaving barely five percent to show for it. The verdict lands quietly: unfit for the position. Then the post is recycled, re-advertised, panels reconvene, and taxpayer money vanishes into a black hole of dishonesty. Meanwhile, honest Namibians sit at home, watching opportunities built on merit dissolve before their eyes, replaced by empty promises and recycled lies. This is not a story of nerves or coincidence. It is deliberate deception, collusion, and corruption hiding in plain sight. Interview questions are leaked from the very ministries, regional offices, parastatals, and agencies entrusted with running our country. Answers a...

Come walk with me for a moment. Not on the tar roads where things are neat and names are known. Turn off where the dust starts rising even before your feet touch the ground. Where the wind talks to zinc like it is angry. This is where we stay. This is the location. Shacks stand close to each other, not because there is no space, but because even zinc understands community. Rust on the outside, life on the inside. The smell of kapana smoke mixes with firewood and sand after rain. Streets do not have names here, only directions. “Turn by the green shack.” “Next to that container.” People pass us fast. Windows up. Eyes forward. Like if they look too long, poverty will follow them home. They say it quietly, sometimes loudly. Those people are dirty. All because we live in shacks. All because our struggle is visible. But inside these shacks, life is busy happening. A mother wakes up before sunrise, not because she wants to, but because survival does not sleep. She boils water on a paraffin s...

Manipulated minds won’t get this. They never do. To them, anyone who questions the system is either “demonic,” “lost,” or in urgent need of extra prayer sessions, preferably three times a day. Morning, lunch, and night. Because apparently poverty responds best to noise. Let’s start with a history lesson that never makes it into Sunday sermons. Slaves were allowed to go to church on Sundays, but they were not allowed water breaks during the week. Worship was permitted. Rest was not. Salvation for the soul, exhaustion for the body. That alone should tell you everything about how religion was deployed. Not to liberate, but to pacify. Not to awaken, but to sedate. Christianity did not land in Africa in its original form. It went through a long journey of mutation. It started in Israel as a family, a way of life rooted in community and shared responsibility. It moved to Rome, where it became a religion, structured, regulated, and institutionalized. From Rome it went to England, where it was...

Namibia is tired, confused, and slightly entertained. Because apparently, when a minister actually wakes up, reads the law, and applies it, the nation must hold an emergency debate. Suddenly the question is not whether service delivery is improving, but whether James Sankwasa is overshadowing the presidency. Imagine that. Doing your job so well that people think you’re campaigning. Let’s be honest. Namibians are not used to ministers who move like this. We are used to workshops, task teams, “we note with concern” statements, and investigations that age like good wine but never get opened. Then Sankwasa arrived and decided to work in public. Loudly. Consistently. Without apologising. Now everyone is uncomfortable. Corruption, which usually receives polite warnings and endless meetings, got something different this time. No sympathy, no soft landings, just direct questions and real consequences. Local authorities that were very brave on paper suddenly became very quiet. Others discovered...

Let’s not lie to ourselves, my people. This Fishrot case has turned into that thing we all know too well in Namibia: “we’ll see tomorrow.” Tomorrow comes, the sun rises, the case appears on the roll, and then, neh, another application. Not witnesses. Not evidence. Just lawyers standing up nicely to say, “Before we go anywhere, Your Lordship…” Go where? We’ve been parked here since 2019. Outside court, people are hustling. Taxi drivers are shouting destinations, graduates are looking for jobs, rents are increasing, and life is moving. Inside court, time is on “wait first.” Namibia is hot, but that courtroom is cold, boss. Years pass, but the case is still young, too young to be tested and too old to be exciting. Let’s be straight. This is not confusion or being unprepared. This is a proper plan. In the streets we say, “Just delay until things calm down.” In legal English, it is called exercising constitutional rights. Same thing, different jacket. Everything is legal, everything is poli...

The repeated political claim that Namibia requires “people with skills and capability” in leadership is often presented as a reformist ideal. However, when tested against the country’s legal framework, policy commitments, and political practice, this claim increasingly appears disconnected from reality. In 2025, I submitted written recommendations covering all regions to the Omusati Regional Governor at the time. These recommendations called for merit-based nomination of councillors prior to elections, whether at constituency or local authority level. The purpose was to strengthen service delivery by ensuring that elected leaders possess demonstrable governance competence, administrative knowledge, and leadership capacity. This approach is not novel. It is firmly aligned with Article 18 of the Namibian Constitution, which obliges administrative bodies and public officials to act fairly, reasonably, and lawfully. Service delivery failures at local and regional levels cannot be separated...

Let’s stop pretending everything is fine. The revised education system came into Namibia like a remix nobody asked for. One day schools are running on a familiar beat, the next day the whole track is changed. New syllabi, new assessment styles, new expectations, all dropped with a straight face and the usual line, “This is progress.” On the ground though, it’s confusion. Teachers are paging through documents like, “Kanti, when did this change?” Learners are hustling just to keep up. Parents are left in the dark. This thing has strong “airport policy” energy. Someone travels abroad, attends workshops, sees shiny systems with small classes and proper resources, then comes back inspired. Suddenly Namibia must upgrade, fast-fast. But our schools are not Europe. They’re not Asia. They’re not those PowerPoint examples. Here, classrooms are full, materials are limited, and teachers already carry heavy loads. Policy borrowed without localisation is not reform. It’s copy-paste governance. On pa...

Sometimes God does not arrive with thunder or answers written in the sky. Sometimes He comes quietly, disguised as a hug you did not expect, a conversation that lingers longer than planned, or a simple moment where someone truly sees you. These small gestures, often overlooked, carry the weight to change a life. We walk among one another carrying invisible loads. Smiles hide exhaustion. Laughter masks grief. Many are fighting battles they never announce. And yet, one kind word, offered at the right time, can steady a trembling heart. We will never fully understand God’s plan for our lives. His ways are higher than our need for explanation. Faith asks us not to understand, but to trust. To know, without doubt, that Jesus is real and present, even when the path ahead feels uncertain. God is far more invested in who we are becoming than in how comfortable we feel along the way. Growth often comes wrapped in fire. The season that feels heavy, hot, and overwhelming is not meant to destroy y...

 😈 Let’s stop lying to ourselves for comfort. Social media has convinced everyone that they are a black butterfly. Soft life. Rich mindset. High value. Manifesting millions with a cracked phone and borrowed data. But when you look closer, when you really observe the habits, the discipline, the bank balance, and the decisions, you realize something painful. This is moth behavior. Advanced level. Because if you were truly a butterfly, you would not still be negotiating prices like your life depends on it. “Boss, just reduce small.” Reduce what exactly? Your poverty? Money avoids the moth like debt collectors avoid Sundays. The moth loves saying money is not everything. Of course it is not, especially when you do not have it. The same people who claim they are rich in spirit cannot afford airtime without borrowing. Their spirituality only activates when the wallet is empty. Every month sounds like January to them. January, February, August, it does not matter. The excuse is always th...

Namibia finds itself trapped in a familiar cycle, one where every serious attempt at competition is met with panic disguised as patriotism. We have seen this movie before. When MTN from South Africa attempted to enter the Namibian telecommunications market years ago, the resistance was loud and emotional. The language was about protecting local businesses, defending sovereignty, and preserving national interest. Today, the same script has been pulled out again, this time aimed at Starlink, the global satellite internet service owned by Elon Musk through SpaceX. Let us be honest from the beginning. This debate is not really about protecting Namibia. It is about protecting comfort, monopoly power, and long-standing inefficiencies that have been normalised for far too long. MTC dominates Namibia’s telecommunications market almost uncontested. By the end of 2023, MTC controlled roughly eighty-two percent of mobile subscribers in the country. Telecom Namibia followed far behind with about s...