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Sam Nujoma, anti-apartheid activist and Namibia's first president, dies at 95

Sam Nujoma, anti-apartheid activist and Namibia's first president, dies at 95

CBS News09-02-2025

Sam Nujoma, the first president of independent Namibia who led the country to freedom from apartheid South Africa in 1990, has died, Namibia's current leader announced Sunday. He was 95. Known as the father of his nation, Nujoma served for 15 years as Namibia's founding president, from 1990 until 2005.
Namibian President Nangolo Mbumba said Nujoma died from an illness Saturday night after being hospitalized in the capital, Windhoek. He did not share specific details about Nujoma's health condition.
"The foundations of the Republic of Namibia have been shaken," Mbumba said in a statement. "Over the past three weeks, the Founding President of the Republic of Namibia and Founding Father of the Namibian Nation was hospitalized for medical treatment and medical observation due to ill health."
"Unfortunately, this time, the most gallant son of our land could not recover from his illness," Mbumba added. He said Nujoma "provided maximum leadership to our nation and spared no effort to motivate each and every Namibian to build a country that would stand tall and proud among the nations of the world" and praised him for marshaling the Namibian people through "the darkest hours of our liberation struggle."
A fiery anti-apartheid activist, Nujoma helped launch Namibia' liberation movement, called the South West Peoples' Organization, or SWAPO, in the 1960s, and went on to lead the country's lengthy battle for independence from South Africa.
Nujoma was the last of a generation of African leaders who brought their countries out of colonial or white minority rule that included South Africa's Nelson Mandela, Zimbabwe's Robert Mugabe, Zambia's Kenneth Kaunda, Tanzania's Julius Nyerere and Mozambique's Samora Machel.
He was revered in his arid, sparsely populated homeland in southwest Africa as a charismatic father figure who steered it to democracy and stability after long colonial rule by Germany and a bitter war of independence from South Africa.
He spent nearly 30 years in exile as the leader of Namibia's independence movement before returning for Parliamentary elections in late 1989, the first democratic vote in the country. He was elected president by lawmakers months later in 1990 as Namibia's independence was confirmed.
South African President Cyril Ramaphosa said Nujoma led Namibia's independence movement "against the seemingly unshakeable might of colonial and apartheid authorities and forces" and spurred the anti-apartheid movement in South Africa on its own final steps to freedom.
"Sam Nujoma inspired the Namibian people to pride and resistance that belied the size of the population," Ramaphosa said. "Namibia's attainment of independence from South Africa in 1990 ignited in us the inevitability of our own liberation."
Many Namibians also credited Nujoma's leadership for the process of national reconciliation after the deep divisions caused by the independence war and South Africa's policies of dividing the country into ethnically based regional governments, with separate education and health care for each race.
Even political opponents praised Nujoma — who was branded a Marxist and accused of ruthless suppression of dissent while in exile — for establishing a democratic Constitution and involving white businessmen and politicians in government after independence.
Despite his pragmatism and nation-building at home, Nujoma often hit foreign headlines for his fierce anti-Western rhetoric. At a United Nations conference in Geneva in 2000, Nujoma stunned delegates when he claimed AIDS was a man-made biological weapon. He also occasionally waged a verbal war on homosexuality, calling gays "idiots" and branding homosexuality a "foreign and corrupt ideology."
He once banned all foreign television programs, declaring they had corrupted the youth of Namibia.
Nujoma built ties with North Korea, Cuba, Russia and China, some of which had supported Namibia's liberation movement by providing arms and training.
But he balanced that with outreach to the West, and Nujoma was the first African leader to be hosted at the White House by former U.S. President Bill Clinton in 1993. Clinton called Nujoma "the George Washington of his country" and "a genuine hero of the world's movement toward democracy."
Nujoma also advocated for the advancement of women in a largely patriarchal region, saying "there is no shortage of competent and experienced African women to lead the way forward." Namibia elected its first female president last year and President-elect Netumbo Nandi-Ndaitwah's term is due to start next month.
Nujoma grew up in a rural, impoverished family, the eldest of 11 children. His early life revolved around looking after cattle and the cultivation of land. He attended a mission school and worked in a general store and then a whaling station on the coast, before a job in Windhoek as a cleaner for South African Railways.
He was arrested following a political protest in 1959 and fled the territory shortly after his release to go into exile in Tanzania. There, he helped establish the South West African People's Organization and was named its president in 1960. SWAPO has been Namibia's ruling party since 1990, and Nujoma ultimately led it for 47 years until stepping down in 2007.
When South Africa refused to heed a 1966 U.N. resolution ending the mandate it had been given over the German colony of South West Africa after World War I, Nujoma launched SWAPO's guerrilla campaign.
"We started the armed struggle with only two sub-machine guns and two pistols," Nujoma once said. "I got them from Algeria, plus some rounds of ammunition."
SWAPO never achieved military victory in an independence war that lasted more than 20 years, but Nujoma won wide political support during his exile, leading to the U.N. declaring SWAPO the sole representative of the Namibian people and South Africa ultimately withdrawing from the country.
As he mixed with world leaders, Nujoma was aware of his humble roots and lack of education. After leaving school early to work, he later attended night school, largely to improve his English. He said he dedicated his life to his country's liberation.

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How one woman is inspiring a new future for Africa's nomadic herders
How one woman is inspiring a new future for Africa's nomadic herders

National Geographic

timean hour ago

  • National Geographic

How one woman is inspiring a new future for Africa's nomadic herders

Awa Sow, a community leader in Senegal's Ferlo reserve, is finding new ways to involve Fulani women in local herding groups and government. Photographs by Robin Hammond Long before European powers carved up West Africa and independent African states inherited their contemporary borders, a great nomadic tradition began—one that continues and evolves today. Around November, as the rainy season ends and the southern fringes of the Sahara desert begin to dry and brown again, hundreds of thousands of Fulani herders gather to drive millions of cattle, goats, and sheep toward cooler subtropical savannas. This annual movement has made the Fulani one of the largest nomadic groups on Earth, but it has also helped exclude them from politics: Despite their large numbers, the transient herders are less likely to be counted by states. An added obstacle to representation is the fact that many of the region's governments are more invested in farming than herding. That diminished political sway makes it hard to press for herders' interests in controlling the land, routes, and resources that they depend on. While there are large populations of Fulani people in places like Mali and Nigeria, many of these herders are living in constant jeopardy. (Discover more about Fulani herders and how they're reshaping their traditions.) Fulani herders raise cattle, goats, and sheep, which they move across vast distances to find the grasslands and water necessary to sustain their livestock. In Chad, near the city of Dourbali, a family moves livestock while carrying supplies including dried calabashes used to store fresh milk. In northern Senegal, on the vast Ferlo reserve, a different model of political participation has taken shape for the Fulani—and a galvanizing community leader is offering herders a fresh way to think about how problems might be solved. Her name is Awa Sow, an organizer whose decades of work have earned her respect and also rare authority. 'Awa is a woman warrior with unique authority in this region,' says Aliou Samba Ba, the leader of an influential herders association on the reserve. 'Anyone who wants to organize a successful activity in her area—whether political, development, cultural, or religious—has to pass by her.' And Sow foresees a very different future for the Fulani on the Ferlo reserve. Here, Fulani herders have political representation. As a result, in recent years the government has invested in rural development and boosting livestock production and trade. This has helped these Fulani avoid the conflict experienced in other areas. But rainfall levels are dropping, killing off native grasses and putting more pressure on water resources. Now, instead of whole families joining the seasonal migration, it is mostly the men who depart on donkey carts loaded with goods and supplies for ever longer trips, leaving women and children behind in arid villages. Sow's efforts, undertaken through the litany of programs and initiatives she leads, aim to engage those women—and perhaps create the kind of political system that could be a useful model for communities far beyond Ferlo. Usmaan Soh, 27, lives in Senegal with his wives (from left), Naana and Kura, and their children, Hadraan Usman and Haawa Kura. Sow, 63, lives in Barkedji, a rural community of roughly 25,000 people located in the northern part of the reserve. She holds no official governmental role, in part because her influence has grown far beyond that. The problems facing seminomadic Fulani across the region are complex, so her solutions attack them from different directions. Croatia's oldest coastal town One way has been rethinking how Fulani women can participate in politics to help them exert more control over their precious resources. When men leave the Ferlo reserve, for instance, it often diminishes the power of women. As warming temperatures have forced herders to go farther south to keep their livestock watered and fed, men are now gone even longer, coming back to the villages only a few months each year. Over time, that disappearance led Sow to challenge conventional assumptions about who should be leading discussions. 'Why should the women of Barkedji do so much work at home,' she says, 'and then have no input when decisions get made?' The eldest of nine, Sow grew up in a herding household in Barkedji, where she developed a deep appreciation for the beauty of her community's traditions. To care for her siblings, she learned to work together with other girls who collected wood for fires or carried water from nearby wells. At age 18, she married a man who taught her to view that collective power in another way. He was the chief of staff to the president of Senegal's main legislative body, the National Assembly, and encouraged her to travel to different compounds, where she pounded millet with women while persuading them to attend political assemblies and vote. 'If you don't participate in a meeting, you won't be informed,' she remembers telling them. 'If the information doesn't come to you, you must go find it.' There wasn't an established school within the commune when Sow was growing up, and she remained illiterate until her early 30s. After being elected to a rural governing council, she learned to read and write, and then focused more on local land law. The Ferlo, a 4,700-square-mile swath of protected land and buffer areas, exists as a protected zone today because it was developed for livestock breeding during the country's French occupation, when the government invested in wells and forbade commercial farming in hopes of encouraging more livestock production. Since Senegal's independence in 1960, seminomadic herders have continued to use resources along a string of human-made oases lining their migration routes. Now 300,000 herders are scattered across villages there. (How these women are facing the end of their way of life: herding.) Sow eventually directed the creation of local committees that work with the Senegalese government to manage regional water rights and shared herding corridors. Along the way, she encouraged more women to be appointed to top positions within those agencies. 'If the grasses are damaged, the women suffer just as much as the men,' she says, 'so they have a responsibility to manage these resources together.' Sow, shown at center in light blue, leads a discussion with female farmers at her home. They belong to an organization she founded called National Directorate of Women in Livestock, which offers loans to help the women run their own businesses. Members gain leadership experience that may translate into future opportunities. In addition to working on more active land management, Sow has focused on a counterintuitive way to safeguard traditional herding practices: creating more opportunity for those who stay behind. Many of the area's teenage girls and women in their early 20s are unemployed and not in school, so she launched a women's herding association that now comprises 1,500 local women and more than 5,000 across the region. The group has backed local initiatives to plant community gardens that can offer a reliable source of food and more shared income, and helped families in need gain access to health insurance. And it set up a $25,000 mutual aid fund for unexpected community needs. All of this has led to a new kind of cycle. For instance, Barkedji's first female deputy mayor, Diouma Sow (no relation to Awa), initially joined the herder association, which gave her the political experience to seek a series of higher and more influential roles. 'We want our children to be educated,' Diouma Sow says. 'And we also want our women to be autonomous and active in the local economy.' (Around the world, women are taking charge of their future.) Today, one of Awa Sow's most critical efforts may seem contradictory to the tradition of seminomadic herding. She's invested in small-scale ranching, which may offer a more dependable stream of income as the challenges of migratory herding deepen. This past dry season, Sow hired a herder to lead 45 cows and 300 sheep on the annual migration. The practice is common among wealthier Fulani. However, as she's done in recent years, she also kept part of her herd—five cows and 140 sheep—behind in pastures year-round. As she sees it, this separation doesn't undermine the ancient nomadic practice. It provides a new model for how the classic lifestyle can remain sustainable, hedging against any troubles that may befall the animals during their migration. 'Herders need to change their methods and strategies,' she says plainly. The idea originated from a meeting in 2017, when she and other community leaders spoke with Senegal's minister of livestock, who publicly raised concerns that drier rainy seasons were making conditions more difficult for herders. Native grasses that livestock rely on were disappearing. The official suggested that one way forward might be to grow climate-resistant crops that could generate a stockpile of animal feed as a defense against longer dry seasons. Other herders stormed out, clearly offended at an idea that resembled traditional farming. But Sow was intrigued. Several years ago, she fenced off enough space on her land for some of her sheep and cows to stay put year-round and plotted a 100-square-foot nursery to grow heat-resistant, nutrient-rich grasses like maralfalfa, which, when dried, is a cheap and plentiful alternative to wild vegetation. Fulani herders visit a cattle market in Dahra, a community of 45,000 people in central Senegal. Markets like this, where the Fulani sell their livestock, represent a vital point of connection between Fulani communities and the regional economies. The concept proved valuable in a different way during a recent rainy season, when a surprise cold snap dumped frigid rains and hail throughout the area. Sow ushered a flock of her sheep from the open fields back to her compound, where they could eat the grasses she'd grown and dried. Only one out of the 140 animals died. The other group was less fortunate because the sheep were in a more remote part of the reserve and had to shelter in place without food. Out of 300 animals, about 70 perished. The experience hardened Sow's conviction that diverse ways of raising livestock remain herders' best shield against climate change. She has since helped design and finance a grant project to introduce young herders to small-scale ranching. Grantees now receive eight sheep to keep in an enclosed pen, along with animal feed, water dispensers, and access to veterinary care. They can sell the animals but must reinvest profits in more livestock for two years. One grantee, a 28-year-old single mother of two, recently sold eight sheep and used the profits to buy nine younger ones. She planned to repeat the process again in a few months and was setting aside part of her garden to grow forage crops. Clearly, not every one of these strategies will work outside the Ferlo, where many Fulani still struggle for rights and resources. But over the past 15 years, Sow's work alongside the government has helped communities drill dozens of new wells, build better schools and health facilities, and secure bank loans for buying animals. Last November, in the days before an important parliamentary election, one of the leading candidates visited with an entourage that included security guards, tom-tom drummers, and a couple of traditional praise singers called griots, who opened the discussion by offering an oral history about Sow herself. 'Families once wished for a boy first,' one proclaimed melodically. 'But Awa, firstborn, is a great source of pride. Awa changed everything. She showed us that one woman can do what a thousand men cannot.' On election day, Awa glided into the courtyard at a nearby secondary school to cast her vote. 'Before, women didn't even come vote. It didn't interest them,' she says. 'But when you look at the lines today, things have changed.' More than half the people at the polls were women, which Awa considers her greatest accomplishment. A version of this story appears in the July 2025 issue of National Geographic magazine. A policy expert on Africa's Sahel region, Hannah Rae Armstrong traveled from her home in Dakar to Senegal's Ferlo reserve to profile Awa Sow, who leads a transformative women's herding association. She also writes for Foreign Affairs, MIT Technology Review, and Le Monde. An Explorer since 2019 and Barcelona-based photographer, Robin Hammond documented the traditions and challenges of nomadic Fulani people in communities across Chad, Niger, Cameroon, Ghana, Senegal, and elsewhere. The nonprofit National Geographic Society, committed to illuminating and protecting the wonder of our world, funded Explorer Robin Hammond's work. Learn more about the Society's support of Explorers.

President of Ghana Joins Board of Global Center on Adaptation
President of Ghana Joins Board of Global Center on Adaptation

Yahoo

timean hour ago

  • Yahoo

President of Ghana Joins Board of Global Center on Adaptation

Rotterdam/Nairobi, June 10, 2025 (GLOBE NEWSWIRE) -- The Global Center on Adaptation (GCA) today announced that His Excellency John Dramani Mahama, President of the Republic of Ghana, has joined its Board. He joins a distinguished group of global leaders - including Mia Amor Mottley, Prime Minister of Barbados; Samia Suluhu Hassan, President of Tanzania; William Samoei Ruto, President of Kenya and Hilda Heine, President of the Marshall Islands - committed to advancing climate adaptation as an urgent development and economic priority. President Mahama's appointment comes as GCA deepens its work across Africa through its flagship Africa Adaptation Acceleration Program, which has shaped over $15 billion in adaptation investments in 40 countries. With the opening of its new headquarters in Nairobi this year, GCA continues to scale up local action in agriculture, resilient infrastructure, youth entrepreneurship, and climate finance. As the world transitions from ambition to implementation, GCA Board members like President Mahama will be central in ensuring adaptation is treated not as a cost, but as an engine of growth, equity, and resilience. Accepting his appointment, President John Dramani Mahama of Ghana stated: ' 'I am deeply honoured to accept my appointment to the Board of the Global Centre on Adaptation today. Climate change is not a distant threat; it is an urgent crisis that is already undermining Africa's development and jeopardising our collective future. As I join this esteemed institution, I will amplify the voices of African leaders and communities demanding greater investment in climate adaptation. The world must recognise that adaptation is not a choice but a necessity for our continent, which bears the brunt of climate impacts while contributing the least to its causes. To our development partners: Africa's adaptation ambitions require your steadfast support. We call for increased financing, technology transfer, and collaborative action to build resilience across our vulnerable nations. The time for pledges has passed; the time for delivery is now. Together, we can safeguard Africa's future and ensure that climate justice becomes a cornerstone of global solidarity." Commenting on the announcement, Macky Sall, Chair of the Global Center on Adaptation and Fourth President of Senegal said: 'President Mahama's return to leadership comes at a critical moment for Africa and the world. His deep experience, unwavering commitment to sustainable development, and proven ability to deliver impact on the ground will be a major asset to the GCA Board. Together, we will work to elevate adaptation as an economic and moral imperative, ensuring that Africa's leadership lights the path toward a more resilient future for all.' Professor Patrick V. Verkooijen, President and CEO of GCA, added: 'President Mahama exemplifies how bold political leadership and integrated national strategies can accelerate climate adaptation. His holistic approach—combining finance innovation, agricultural resilience, youth engagement, and governance reform—will elevate our Board's ability to translate global ambition into local impact, especially in Africa.' With President Mahama's leadership and the backing of other sitting and former heads of state on its Board, GCA is climate-proofing development across Africa and beyond—anchored by its new presence in Nairobi and a growing global mandate for action. CONTACT: Alexandra Gee Global Center on Adaptation +447887804594 in retrieving data Sign in to access your portfolio Error in retrieving data Error in retrieving data Error in retrieving data Error in retrieving data

The Best Democracy Is Anarchy (opinion)
The Best Democracy Is Anarchy (opinion)

Yahoo

time4 hours ago

  • Yahoo

The Best Democracy Is Anarchy (opinion)

The Ultimate Hidden Truth of the World…, by David Graeber, Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 384 pages, $32 Long before European governments or their colonies began to embrace "democracy," something far more democratic was widely practiced in the world's vast ungovernable spaces. Black Sam Bellamy's 1717 pirate crew was "a collection of people in which there was likely to be at least some firsthand knowledge of a very wide range of directly democratic institutions," wrote David Graeber, the late anarchist and anthropologist, in one of his essays collected posthumously in The Ultimate Hidden Truth of the World…. Those institutions ranged "from Swedish things to African village assemblies to Native American councils": a rich assortment of influences as the sailors found themselves "forced to improvise some mode of self-government in the complete absence of any state." The very ungovernability of the Atlantic itself, the vast inland frontiers, the dense forests and swamplands, made it "the perfect intercultural space" of experiment and improvisation. For Graeber, it was the occupants of those democratic spaces, and not any politician or political theorist, from whom we should be taking our historical cues. Democracy, he argued, is not representative government, where the people select appointees to make decisions for them. That's Roman nonsense. Democracy is a daily exercise. It is (or can be) practiced in your workplace or family or place of learning, because those units are the most basic and consequential to daily life. It lives in cultural practice and not in states, and states cannot be democratized. Graeber therefore sided with the libertarian anarchists who believe humanity's best future has nothing to do with the state. "Anarchism and democracy," he wrote, "are—or should be—largely identical." *** Many historians accept the thesis that there is no real through line between Athenian democracy and modern Western states. Building on that, Graeber argued that "the West" is more appropriately called the "'North Atlantic system,' which replaced the Mediterranean semi-periphery, and emerged as a world economy of its own, rivaling, and then gradually, slowly, painfully incorporating the older world economy that had centered on the cosmopolitan societies of the Indian Ocean." This system "was created through almost unimaginable catastrophe"—the rise of trans-Atlantic African slavery, the almost total destruction of Native America, the deaths of "at least a hundred million human beings," and the infusion of racism into science. But it "also produced its own forms of cosmopolitanism, with endless fusions of African, Native American, and European traditions," as in Black Sam Bellamy's crew. Amid those encounters, "a history of mutinies, pirates, rebellions, defections, experimental communities, and every sort of antinomian and populist idea…seems to have played a key role in many of the radical ideas that came to be referred to as 'democracy.'" Democracy, therefore, was not an invention. It was, and is, an emergent order arising "in a face-to-face community, to figure out what most members of that community want to do." It is not structure, control, or even force; it is a social process of building consensus within a specific and identifiable community. "Consensus decision-making is typical of societies where there would be no way to compel a minority to agree with a majority decision," wrote Graeber, "either because there is no state with a monopoly of coercive force, or because the state has no interest in or does not tend to intervene in local decision-making." The U.S. government has never resembled this. Our Framers consistently praised the Roman Republic and trashed Athenian democracy. "At the time, outright democrats…like Tom Paine, for instance—were considered a tiny minority of rabble-rousers even within revolutionary regimes." With time, the word democracy became more acceptable. But in practice, "politicians simply began substituting the word democracy for republic, without any change in meaning." Real change requires something more. New cultures can form through processes of "conscious refusal" to cooperate with regimes. Graeber gave the example of the Merina in Madagascar. Modern Merina culture emerged in reaction to the historical monarchy, which to Graeber represented a "heroic society," with the hero-monarch at its head. Modern Merina culture, by contrast, is an "anti-heroic society," where "the only ancient kings who were remembered fondly were those said to have voluntarily abandoned their power." During his fieldwork in Madagascar, Graeber felt "the presence of an ideology that seemed to take every principle of heroic society and explicitly reject it." These modern oral historians thought of ancient kings as egotistical fools engaged in wasteful and corrosive "theatricality, boasting, and self-aggrandizing lying," resulting in undue restrictions on the people—and the Merina had no use for them. *** That brings us to another topic raised in the book: puppets, and why cops seem so scared of them. Giant puppets played a major role in the Occupy movement of 2011 and in the earlier globalization protests of the late 1990s and early 2000s, turning up to disrupt public proceedings and spaces. As Graeber recalled, one group of protesters "might have the Giant Pig that represents the World Bank," another "a Giant Liberation Puppet whose arms can block an entire highway." Police from Miami to Seattle hunted down puppets like a reverse Chucky film, slaughtering them in imaginative ways. One was held outside the "squad car with the head sticking out and driving so as to smash it against every sign and street post available." Why? On the most direct level, many cops were convinced that these woke-commie-nonsense papier-mâché public-art pieces were in fact mortal dangers, filled with urine bombs, wrist rockets, bricks, crowbars, acid squirt guns, and other scary fantasies. But Graeber believed something symbolic was afoot as well: that those puppets and those agents of the state were in some sense fundamentally opposed. Puppets, he suggested, are the opposite of monuments—they are "extraordinarily creative" but also "intentionally ephemeral." They are mobile, larger-than-life symbols of the "endless alternative frameworks" that exist outside of the state. They embody the new cultures that we, like the Merina, could create. They are antiheroic. They are anarchistic. The "ultimate hidden truth" of this book's title is that history is not a set of cosmological handcuffs. The world belongs to us, the living, to make out of it what we will. The post The Best Democracy Is Anarchy appeared first on

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