By: Kandjengo kaMkwaanyoka
These days, we are doing all sorts of things in the name of raising awareness about suicide and mental health, but I haven’t seen much action in addressing or exposing the root causes.
We organize marathons, seminars, and host endless talk shows about suicide prevention and mental wellness.
We’re even telling men to cry, to open up, and to follow all sorts of theories because men are the most affected when it comes to suicide.
This year, we’ve witnessed a barbaric increase in the ways men take their own lives – jumping from buildings and committing acts that leave us horrified.
As an economic observer, the growing number of suicides, especially among men in the so-called “labour-active” age group, has prompted me to think about the economic conditions that might be contributing to this crisis.
I haven’t heard any medical researchers or academics addressing why men of economic value – men in their prime – are taking their own lives at such alarming rates.
So, I turned to my economic reasoning, examining the performance of the economy and its ability to create jobs and pay decent wages.
The Namibian economy is unforgiving to many. It’s notorious for driving away those with traditional skills, leaving them trapped in poor working conditions with meagre wages.
There’s a reason Namibia is regarded as one of the most unequal societies in the world – because access to better economic opportunities and the factors of production remain in the hands of a few.
Young people, even those with qualifications, struggle to access startup capital. Those who were not economically enlightened enough to upskill themselves after completing Grade 10 end up working in supermarkets or doing back-breaking labour for next to nothing.
Meanwhile, the cost of living keeps rising, with basic necessities becoming more expensive by the month. We can’t even produce enough of our own food to survive.
A hard-working man earning N$4,000 a month has already given up hope of owning a decent shack in Windhoek or affording rent in Hakahana.
For a man, being the provider is a central part of his identity, and when he can’t fulfill that role, despair and hopelessness set in.
For those in rural areas, the situation is even worse. As they watch their last cattle perish in the drought, knowing they can’t afford to replace them, they are left with no hope.
And even if they could afford to buy a few cattle or goats, where would they graze them?
The super-rich and politically connected have fenced off communal land, leaving the rest overgrazed and unsuitable for farming.
This leads me to theorize that the high rate of suicide among men – especially young, economically capable men – is a direct result of the harsh economic conditions in this country.
The exclusivity and unrewarding nature of Namibia’s economy are, in my view, key contributors.
To all the mental health activists out there, those urging men to open up, cry, and embrace their emotions, I implore you to pause.
Most men might not need to cry – they have simply lost hope because they feel less valuable.
As a man once responsible for providing for others, I can tell you that economic rejection is the hardest blow a man can endure.
After countless rejections – whether it’s a failed business proposal, a job application, or a funding request – thoughts of inadequacy creep in, and feelings of worthlessness overwhelm you.
It’s not about men not crying enough, or not sharing their feelings, or any of these woke theories being pushed by the mainstream media and some activists.
The real issue is economic. We need to address the inequalities embedded deep within the structure of our economy.
We need to rethink how resources are allocated and distributed and focus on upskilling people so they can meaningfully participate and be compensated fairly.
No amount of marathons, mental health seminars, or suicide prevention workshops will help a homeless man who feels worthless in an economy that has abandoned him.
Dedicating days to mental health awareness, wearing ribbons, and making long speeches won’t feed the man sitting in his ghetto, hungry, dumped by his fiancée, and disrespected by his child because he can’t provide.
Stop telling men to cry. Instead, work toward a fairer distribution of resources and create quality job opportunities for the men who are still in the game – so they can support their families. Let’s fix the economy.
Let’s create opportunities for real participation. Let’s also strengthen our welfare programs.
Kandjengo isn’t going to sit around crying about his emotions, but he’s more than willing to attend training that helps him upskill and fully participate in the economy – and get paid what he deserves.
If you’re economically enlightened, not woke, reach out to me at gerastus16@gmail.com. I’m ready to learn.
