• by Servaas van den Bosch (windhoek)
• Friday, November 13, 2009
• Inter Press Service

They are called the 'born frees', the children of Namibia’s Independence, and they will vote for the first time this month. Struggle credentials mean zip to them, and they have a serious beef with politicians.

'Apartheid is over, can we please get down to today’s issues?'

Jaimee-Lee Diergaardt has little patience with the grey old men beaming down from billboards all over the city. 'The people who want to get elected didn’t make an effort to speak to us. We are clearly not their target market,' she fumes.

'But just because people my age don’t watch Talk of the Nation doesn’t mean we don’t have issues. Look at this neighbourhood, it’s like everyone is on drugs.'

In a country with a young population like Namibia the vote of the born frees will become pivotal in the next 10 years, yet this generation feels disconnected from their leaders.

'The elders always kick up a fuss about the struggle,' Jaimee-Lee says. 'When my granny tells me about people shooting, I understand it must have been scary for her. But it’s also time to move on.'

She recently registered to vote in Namibia’s November 27-28 elections. 'They made me, my family. My granny said if you don’t vote you don’t have a right to complain. And I complain a lot.'

She’s not apathetic about politics. 'I do have opinions. Like about working hours,' she says. 'Fair enough, I started work only three weeks ago, but I do have something to say about that!' Or about women’s rights. 'If abortion was legal there might be less pressure on women.'

Women, she feels, would be better at running the country. 'We are more intelligent.'

The 18-year old brunette from Windhoek’s Khomasdal area dreams of a career as a fashion designer, while earning her living on the promotion team of a mobile operator. She finished her grade 12 last year, and will enrol in the University of Namibia’s Art Department soon.

Her relatively privileged position in an unequal society hasn’t blinded her to its injustices. 'My future looks bright,' she concedes. 'But with our newfound freedom we also take things for granted. When I was in Austria on an exchange visit, I noticed how learners work much harder there. Here some people don’t even try, while others cannot afford education.'

Finishing school is something Horstancia Namises (19) dreams about every day, as she studies by candlelight in her mother’s shack.

'I am so, so happy to be back in school,' the grade 11 student tells IPS in a pitch-black, abandoned parking lot in Otjimuise, a poor and crime-ridden township without electricity. It’s exam time. Tomorrow she will write Afrikaans and physics. Remarkably, she is ready.

'In 2006 my life fell apart. My mother lost her job and I had to look after my four siblings while we lived in someone’s yard. I almost got raped that year too, I had no confidence left,' she reminisces.

Dreams of a psychology or agricultural engineering degree evaporated as she joined the army of dropouts — about 52 percent of all grade 10 learners fail — who had to leave the schooling system to conform to Namibia’s controversial policy at the time. A rule change and a sponsor from Canada allowed her to return last year, and now she is achieving top marks.

She is determined not to fall pregnant like many other girls in her school. 'Today I heard of two more girls who got pregnant. They are in grade eight and nine. There have been almost 20 cases like that this year. I can’t afford to be making babies now. When I finish my education I already have my brothers and sisters to take care of.'

For Horstancia’s demographic group, independence has meant a declining education system, appalling health care, increasing poverty, indiscriminate violence against women and a much lower life expectancy.

'Eeeh…Namibia,' she sighs, then laughs ruefully as her old eyes stare into the darkness. 'But it’s still wonderful to be born free, you know. It motivates. If my granny had been free to go to school, perhaps my mum wouldn’t be a domestic worker, and we wouldn’t have to suffer.'

She continues. 'When this guy, Eric Casher, of the Obama Campaign, came to speak at our school, I realised how important it is to register. My mum and I put our names on the roll together.'

Having an aunt who is a Member of Parliament inspires her. 'Men always think women will not reach that stage, that we are weak, that we are housewives, but women will bring change in this world.'

'Just imagine life without women. They are a million times harder working than men. Even if a woman has five kids she will do everything in her power to feed them, clothe them, give them an education and put a roof over their head. Most men are irresponsible, they just run away.'

No children yet for Morachia Job either. The bright 17-year-old will come of voting age only in February, so isn’t allowed to vote in the November election. 'But I’ll get my chance next year at the local elections.' It doesn’t stop her from crashing into the political scene with all the enthusiasm her youth allows.

'I am campaigning now for the Congress of Democrats (CoD). I tell people it’s the only party with equal representation for women, and they go like: ‘For real!?’ It’s great, I believe in politics.

'Born free means everything is free, even if you have to pay for it. Under apartheid a black man couldn’t just buy a car, even if he had the money.'

It’s also freedom of the mind, she thinks. 'I went to white private schools all my life. I have no problem sleeping in the same house as white people, rubbing shoulders with the opposite race. For older people that still isn’t normal.'

'Because of their stance on gender, CoD cuts it for me, you know? Right now women in politics are simply furniture. They are there to paint the right picture. As long as a guy has been in the struggle he can become president. A woman with a good degree can’t even become a mayor.'

A change in politics is exactly why first-year sociology student Venesa Karises (18) registered to vote. 'Ever since independence it has been all about the struggle. Now that the born frees are voting it doesn’t matter anymore, we weren’t there. If you try to ignore the struggle everyone is on your case, but a political manifesto based on the liberation war doesn’t have relevance for our current situation.

'Nineteen years after independence 400,000 people in this country still live in deep poverty. Large areas have no access to purified water, and gender-based violence continues,' she sums up. Like the others, Venesa despises the rampant violence against women.

'Yesterday another girl got stabbed to death by her boyfriend. It’s an issue that overrules everything for me, but who will do something about it?'

'I don’t see much improvement after independence. It’s still the minority living at the expense of the majority. And our generation is not represented.

'Being a born free is being a nobody.'

© Inter Press Service (2009) — All Rights Reserved. Original source: Inter Press Service