From 25-cent sheep herder to millionaire
The life and times of Silas Ndapuka
A journey that started on a farm in Maltahöhe has blossomed into a proud Namibian success story.
Because of his poor literacy background, he cannot recall the year nor how old he was when he started working for a German farmer in Maltahöhe as a sheep herder.
What Silas Ndapuka, now a hugely successful businessman, vividly remembers is his salary at that farm - a paltry 25 cents per month.
Moving on to proverbial greener pastures, he quit work at the Maltahöhe farm and ended up in Outjo, again as a sheep herder but for more than double his previous salary. This time, he earned 85 cents, a comparably radical shift in earnings.
As he gained experience and grew in stature as a livestock herder, he would get his last deployment in this sector in Omaruru, where he earned R11 monthly.
“This was a lot of money at the time,” Ndapuka, who celebrated his 76th birthday in Windhoek over the weekend, said.
His other notable jobs were in Lüderitz, initially as a factory worker and later a seaman, a cleaner at a Rosh Pinah mine, and a handyman at the construction of the current City of Windhoek headquarters in Kaiserstrasse, today known as Independence Avenue.
While working, he also had a ‘side hustle’ – selling the traditional brew Otombo at a small stall in his village. Born in Angola, he lives in Omalungandjaba in the Ombalantu area.
A few years later, he returned to Lüderitz to work at sea again. This was the turning point in his life, having been able to accrue enough money to buy his first vehicle.
“I didn’t know how to drive so I travelled with a friend to Keetmanshoop to buy my first car – a Chevrolet bakkie. Back when I worked in Maltahöhe, one night I dreamt of having bought a red car and I still remember that dream vividly to this date – and I think it was telling me something about my future.”
Setting wheels into motion
Now having a vehicle, Ndapuka started transporting northern labourers from Lüderitz to their villages during their work breaks.
“It became so frequent that every month-end I was transporting people from Lüderitz to the northern villages. Transport was rare those days, so I became the main guy for them,” he told Namibian Sun in his native Oshimbadja language.
“With the money I was making, I opened a shop at Ombafi,” he said, adding that this development changed his life for the worse.
“Swapo soldiers started approaching me for various reasons. Sometimes they wanted to buy things from the shop, while others sought transport from me, especially those who operated in the Ongandjera area.”
Apartheid leaders increasingly became aware of his activities, leading to his arrest and a six-month incarceration at Oshakati.
“Jail was terrible. Every few days there were helicopters arriving on site with dead Swapo soldiers and we, the prisoners, were asked to cut off the arms from the dead bodies – I don’t know to date what that was for,” he said.
Assassination threats
Political assassinations, often targeting perceived pro-Swapo businessmen, were common at the time, and when Ndapuka was released from jail, an insider from the apartheid military wing at Outapi told him he was next on the hit list.
“His name was Ailemo, a fellow Mbadja. He came to my shop and told me I was on the hit list, and even gave me the exact date of my planned assassination. I told him maybe I should just quit business, but he said that would not save me.”
“He urged me to leave the village and go to Lüderitz, Walvis Bay or Katima Mulilo. I didn’t think I’d be safe anywhere in the country so I packed up my car and drove to Angola with my wife,” he narrated.
Days after leaving, his neighbour was assassinated.
“I left on Christmas Day because I knew the soldiers will be in celebratory mood and not really do any work on that day.”
Ndapuka was received by Swapo leaders in Luanda and was part of a group to be sent to Libya for training as police officers.
“I told them I can’t be trained as a police officer because I can’t read and write.”
He was then sent for military training to the Tobias Hainyeko Training Centre in Lubango.
“Abraham Kanime [now head of Windhoek City Police] was there and he was the man who handed me my first machine gun upon completion of my training.”
Ndapuka would become a soldier and was part of groups that fought Unita in Kwanza Sul and Kwemba, both in Angola.
Transport empire
At independence, he returned to Namibia and used his savings to buy a kombi to restart his transport business, which has since grown exponentially.
He now runs a booming transport empire, with 24 luxury long-distance coaches travelling to Angola, South Africa, Zambia, Zimbabwe and other countries in the region. His company also operates 12 smaller buses.
At his birthday, held at a local hotel on Sunday, his children urged him to ‘eat’ his money, something he rarely does.
“Tate [dad], please just go out of the country once and enjoy your money while you’re still alive,” one of them said.
Ndapuka told Namibian Sun he does not leave the country, neither for business nor pleasure.
“I am a chronic money-saver. Every day I am at the loading zone seeing off the buses. I think I have trust issues, that’s why I don’t like being away. I always think that if I leave, I’ll find my things messed up. I’d rather work than travel abroad.”
What Silas Ndapuka, now a hugely successful businessman, vividly remembers is his salary at that farm - a paltry 25 cents per month.
Moving on to proverbial greener pastures, he quit work at the Maltahöhe farm and ended up in Outjo, again as a sheep herder but for more than double his previous salary. This time, he earned 85 cents, a comparably radical shift in earnings.
As he gained experience and grew in stature as a livestock herder, he would get his last deployment in this sector in Omaruru, where he earned R11 monthly.
“This was a lot of money at the time,” Ndapuka, who celebrated his 76th birthday in Windhoek over the weekend, said.
His other notable jobs were in Lüderitz, initially as a factory worker and later a seaman, a cleaner at a Rosh Pinah mine, and a handyman at the construction of the current City of Windhoek headquarters in Kaiserstrasse, today known as Independence Avenue.
While working, he also had a ‘side hustle’ – selling the traditional brew Otombo at a small stall in his village. Born in Angola, he lives in Omalungandjaba in the Ombalantu area.
A few years later, he returned to Lüderitz to work at sea again. This was the turning point in his life, having been able to accrue enough money to buy his first vehicle.
“I didn’t know how to drive so I travelled with a friend to Keetmanshoop to buy my first car – a Chevrolet bakkie. Back when I worked in Maltahöhe, one night I dreamt of having bought a red car and I still remember that dream vividly to this date – and I think it was telling me something about my future.”
Setting wheels into motion
Now having a vehicle, Ndapuka started transporting northern labourers from Lüderitz to their villages during their work breaks.
“It became so frequent that every month-end I was transporting people from Lüderitz to the northern villages. Transport was rare those days, so I became the main guy for them,” he told Namibian Sun in his native Oshimbadja language.
“With the money I was making, I opened a shop at Ombafi,” he said, adding that this development changed his life for the worse.
“Swapo soldiers started approaching me for various reasons. Sometimes they wanted to buy things from the shop, while others sought transport from me, especially those who operated in the Ongandjera area.”
Apartheid leaders increasingly became aware of his activities, leading to his arrest and a six-month incarceration at Oshakati.
“Jail was terrible. Every few days there were helicopters arriving on site with dead Swapo soldiers and we, the prisoners, were asked to cut off the arms from the dead bodies – I don’t know to date what that was for,” he said.
Assassination threats
Political assassinations, often targeting perceived pro-Swapo businessmen, were common at the time, and when Ndapuka was released from jail, an insider from the apartheid military wing at Outapi told him he was next on the hit list.
“His name was Ailemo, a fellow Mbadja. He came to my shop and told me I was on the hit list, and even gave me the exact date of my planned assassination. I told him maybe I should just quit business, but he said that would not save me.”
“He urged me to leave the village and go to Lüderitz, Walvis Bay or Katima Mulilo. I didn’t think I’d be safe anywhere in the country so I packed up my car and drove to Angola with my wife,” he narrated.
Days after leaving, his neighbour was assassinated.
“I left on Christmas Day because I knew the soldiers will be in celebratory mood and not really do any work on that day.”
Ndapuka was received by Swapo leaders in Luanda and was part of a group to be sent to Libya for training as police officers.
“I told them I can’t be trained as a police officer because I can’t read and write.”
He was then sent for military training to the Tobias Hainyeko Training Centre in Lubango.
“Abraham Kanime [now head of Windhoek City Police] was there and he was the man who handed me my first machine gun upon completion of my training.”
Ndapuka would become a soldier and was part of groups that fought Unita in Kwanza Sul and Kwemba, both in Angola.
Transport empire
At independence, he returned to Namibia and used his savings to buy a kombi to restart his transport business, which has since grown exponentially.
He now runs a booming transport empire, with 24 luxury long-distance coaches travelling to Angola, South Africa, Zambia, Zimbabwe and other countries in the region. His company also operates 12 smaller buses.
At his birthday, held at a local hotel on Sunday, his children urged him to ‘eat’ his money, something he rarely does.
“Tate [dad], please just go out of the country once and enjoy your money while you’re still alive,” one of them said.
Ndapuka told Namibian Sun he does not leave the country, neither for business nor pleasure.
“I am a chronic money-saver. Every day I am at the loading zone seeing off the buses. I think I have trust issues, that’s why I don’t like being away. I always think that if I leave, I’ll find my things messed up. I’d rather work than travel abroad.”
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