By: Kandjengo kaMkwaanyoka
Observing young Angolan children selling in the streets of Windhoek brings back memories of my upbringing in Oshakati and living with my mother.
It reinforces my belief that my mother was a true entrepreneur.
Growing up in Okandjengedi, Oshakati East, my mother began selling produce known as koMatala gaShakati in the 90s, initially working for some Afrikaaners before venturing into the open market.
She used to sell a variation of beverages, as many women were. A cold drink was a luxury back then.
Depending on the season, my mom would diversify her products: when it was the season of maize harvest at Etunda she procured three bags of fresh maize to sell.
That’s when my journey began. As a teenager attending Grade 10 at Iipumbu SSS, I found myself selling maize in the streets, a task I initially found embarrassing.
I was concerned about my social status among my classmates, who wouldn’t understand why I, with polished Toughee shoes, would be carrying a bucket of hot maize on my head.
We did not own a wheelbarrow, so I carried a 20-litre bucket of hot maize on my head with onghata (a cloth) separating it from my head.
The process started at 3 am to ensure the maize was sold while warm, so around 6 am, during holidays and on weekends, I would find myself at Omatala/Open Market, in front of big malls and popular spots with my bucket of maize.
The daunting aspect was the fear of my schoolmates unexpectedly encountering me while I was selling maize, potentially reporting it back to school the next day.
Consequently, I avoided popular locations, resulting in slower business.
After the maize harvest, my mother shifted to selling eggs, and I was tasked with selling them at bus stops and bars.
I considered that the biggest humiliation. “Why did I have to sell if none of my friends sold anything?” I used to ask myself.
When I expressed my dissatisfaction, my mother would ask me one simple question as she woke me up: “where do you think the food you eat comes from?”
She wielded authority, and compliance was essential for me to receive my daily allowance. At the time, her words didn’t truly resonate with me; otherwise, I might have scaled up and become a notable entrepreneur myself by now.
In my youthful naivety, I even harboured resentment toward her for introducing me to the world of commerce.
Decades later, witnessing the struggles of these young Angolan kids, I can empathise to some extent with their experiences.
Reflecting on my experiences, I have two lessons to share with parents and guardians preparing their children for the challenges of the economy.
Firstly, be a mentor, not just a parent. Ensure the lessons you teach are understandable and involve your children in tasks to help them grasp the underlying concepts.
Secondly, there’s a difference between making a child obey and getting them involved. By involving them, they may start enjoying the tasks and naturally embrace them.
In this challenging economy, patience and commitment are essential.
As parents, we must instil these values in our children and provide them with the guidance and support they need. My mother was the greatest hustler I knew, and her lessons, though not appreciated at the time, hold immense value now.
We must adapt to the current economic circumstances and equip our children with the skills and mindset needed to thrive.
We are their first mentors, advisors, clients, and financiers, and it’s our responsibility to prepare them for the realities of the world.
