Namibia Still Pays Pretoria for Permission to Breathe

Here in the ‘Land of the Brave’, we pride ourselves in our hard-won uhuru, but still can’t even visit the toilet without checking if South Africa has approved the two-ply.

It’s 2026, and we are still playing the ultimate game of follow-my-leader with a neighbour whose house is literally in the middle of voluntary liquidation.

Look at uncle Cyril Ramaphosa down south.

The man doesn’t look like a president any more; he looks like a tired business rescue dude sent in to manage the grand decline of the country before the whole thing goes into final insolvency.

It seems Namibians are hell-bent on fuelling that decline by supplying them with rusty old police and army rifles.

We’re apparently not happy with causing the slow collapse of Cupcake’s administration by relieving the contents of his Phala Phala couch before talking recklessly about it.

But despite having all the monies, we stand in the long queue at Shoprite, waiting for the trucks from across the Orange River to bring us everything from milk to toothpicks.