Okahandja’s dumpsite becomes home for vulnerable families
On a bitterly cold morning in Okahandja, while many children enjoyed the comfort of school holidays with family, laughter and warm meals, a very different reality unfolded at the town’s dumpsite. Barefoot boys ran across piles of waste, their feet hardened by the rough ground and winter chill. Some laughed and chased one another through the rubbish, creating moments of innocent childhood amid a place no child should call familiar. Others sat quietly in the smoke and heat rising from freshly burnt waste, patiently waiting for vehicles to arrive and unload more rubbish not out of curiosity, but in hope of finding something to eat or take home.
At the site, small groups of families could be seen gathered beneath sparse trees, seeking shelter from the harsh morning sun that slowly replaced the cold. Parents waited while children rummaged through piles of discarded items, searching for food, firewood, clothing and anything of value that could be reused or sold.
Network Media Hub visited the dumpsite and witnessed scenes that were both heartbreaking and deeply unsettling. Away from the busy groups, one elderly man sat beneath a tree, preparing what appeared to be meat he had found at the dumpsite for his breakfast. Beside him was a young boy, quietly licking the remains from an empty jam packet found among the rubbish.
When asked whether the child attended school, the man, who identified himself as the boy’s uncle, simply replied: “No.” He explained that the boy had followed other children to the dumpsite and had now become part of the daily routine. “We come here early in the morning and leave when the sun sets. Some people even sleep here,” he said.
Nearby, mothers collected firewood while babies sat in the middle of thick smoke, waiting for their mothers to finish gathering wood to take home. The dumpsite, which is reportedly still in the process of being relocated, has expanded significantly over time, becoming both larger and deeper as more waste accumulates.
For many, it has become more than a place to scavenge, it has become an informal settlement of survival.
Sixteen-year-old Fillemon, who was among those searching through the waste, said the situation requires urgent intervention. “We need assistance. Children are just here at the dumpsite, as you can see. Most of them do not attend school,” he said.
“We need educated children in future, but children are just here eating and living at the dumpsite. Government needs to look into this situation for both adults and children here.” Fillemon appealed to authorities and local leaders to visit the site themselves. “The councillors should come here and see how we are suffering. People here need to relocate somewhere else. Some are of school-going age and should be in school, not here.”
Another resident, Elisa Hamutopola, echoed the same concerns, saying children living or spending extended time at the dumpsite deserve urgent government support. “Children here need government assistance and mercy to leave this place,” she said. “Many are school-going children who should be in classrooms. Some parents and children are trapped in this situation and are suffering.” Hamutopola suggested that government explore targeted support measures, including housing assistance, food relief, or social support grants to help vulnerable families rebuild their lives.
“Most of us come here looking for firewood or valuables, but when you look at the people here, you can clearly see they need help,” she added. She further noted that community members often struggle to convince people to leave the dumpsite. She believes improving living conditions elsewhere could encourage families to leave. “If food, water and basic human needs are provided, and people are shown a better standard of living, it may motivate them to leave and live with dignity.”
The sight of children playing among waste, smoke and rotting food is a stark reminder of the widening social challenges facing vulnerable communities. Where some see rubbish, others see survival. But for the children of the Okahandja dumpsite, childhood is being shaped not by classrooms, playgrounds or warm homes, but by hunger, smoke and the daily hope that the next arriving truck may carry something worth keeping.
Their laughter still rises above the ash, innocent and painfully out of place. And perhaps that is what makes the scene most haunting of all.
