Does it really take a village to raise a child? Growing up at Onaanme, there was an old man named tatekulu Immanuel Hainghumbi. Despite his many names, we simply called him tatekulu Hainghumbi.
His homestead was, and still is, situated next to ours. It was the only homestead in our immediate neighbourhood with a television at the time, and I remember sneaking out to spend most of my afternoons there to watch TV.
Tatekulu Hainghumbi’s wife, the late meme Nangula, would bring food home from work. Even though they had many children, over eight that I knew of, along with grandchildren and others they were raising, meme Nangula still shared the food with us, especially me and my little late sister.
Tatekulu Hainghumbi and my maternal grandfather, the late tatekulu Katemo, were not only good friends but also excellent neighbours (the true definition of, “omshiinda ekipa lofingo”).
On several occasions if any of the children in their households misbehaved, they would call each other to resolve and address the issues together.
Growing up, Haighumbi instilled so many good principles in my life. He had the most admirable character, and even though I was a poor and inexperienced child, I still gained a great deal from the advice he gave me.
When I moved to Tsumeb with my father at the age of seven, I always went back to the village for holidays and made it a point to visit Hainghumbi and his late wife. This habit carried on during my time at university and when I started a professional career.
Every time I came home for the holidays, I would go and see him just to say hello, and he was always pleased to see me. He would remind me of various facts and realities that I might otherwise have forgotten, once saying to me, “Ndahafa, ove ashike omtekuluwange wo mo Katemo ka Shaalukeni waya fiyo oko University, diinina elongo m’tekulu wange”.
His encouragement was one of the main reason why I stayed committed to my studies.
Whenever he saw or heard that I was working on something at home, when we meet, tatekulu Haighumbi would encourage me to keep improving our homestead. He was such a generous neighbour that he even at some point offered us electricity, although I declined out of respect since I didn’t want to take advantage of his goodwill.
It pains me deeply that I am only now writing this tribute, after his death. He left before I had the chance to express to him and show him just how much his advice shaped my life. And yes, indeed it takes a village to raise a child.
On 24 August at exactly, 11h00, I went to see him. I almost didn’t go, since visiting tatekulu Hainghumbi meant setting aside hours as he loved to talk, but my mekulu insisted that we should go, in her voice, “Ndahafa tuye mu xokulu itatukalamo shiveli”, so we did.
That day, he said something profound, as he always did, he said: “Oh Ndahafa, dauda waya vali kondje yiilongo no fikola, hano ofikola yoye m’tekulu wange ihaipu, ninga ne wumane.”
I laughed and told him he was the one that once told me to continue studying.
Whatever Hainghumbi said, he always did so with wisdom and knowledge. On that day he also said to me: “Ndahafa, oushishi ngo kutcha ove ashike wukwetelemo omwenyo waMukwahepo.”
My mekulu (Mukwahepo) has lost seven of her children and has only one left – that was the background to his words. Yet his message had an even deeper meaning, but that is a conversation for another day.
On 1 October, I woke up to a status message from one of his children announcing his death.
“Kalunga kange” was the first thing I said to myself. I then phoned my mekulu to check whether the news I had seen on social media was true, hoping that she would tell me it wasn’t.
After having made the call, I knelt down and I prayed to God to accept the soul of tatekulu Haighumbi and that he would comfort his wife, meme Panduleni.
Tatekulu Hainghumbi has left a huge gap in our village and in our neighbourhood. He gave advice to the young people, passed on to me valuable knowledge and had a significant influence on the person I have become. Even though I do not see myself as successful yet, whatever small achievements I have made, are in part due to Hainghumbi.
The other elders we have laid to rest from our neighbourhood include tatekulu Namando, tatekulu Kanyolo, my own tatekulu Katemo and now tatekulu Hainghumbi has joined them. May the heavens open widely to receive the soul of a man who has left such a profound emptiness in my life, my mekulu’s life, his wife, children, the entire region and our Onaame neighbourhood.
Rest in peace forever my village tatekulu, my humble giant as you were, someone who never allowed my age to stand in the way of sharing his wisdom.
– Elize Shakalela is from a small village situated in the heart of the Ohangwena region.
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