“I’m Jahohora, the daughter of Mutihu and Tutejuva of the Omukuatjivi clan. I will never lose who I am. And I will always remember the ancestors. I don’t want any bad luck!”
She’s a little girl. She’s sitting by the kraal with her mama and brother. Mama has just finished telling the story of the omumborombonga tree – the Herero creation story – and Jahohora is full of it. Full of her name. Full of her family. Full of the world she belongs to.
I will never lose who I am.
Then Mama Namibia begins.
I wrote Jahohora and First Day because children deserve to meet Jahohora before the soldiers came. Before the desert. Before the fear. I wanted them to know the cattle and the holy fire. The creation story. The love. The ordinary, sacred morning that was her life.
The genocide tried to erase all of that. Her name. Her clan. Her belonging.
It did not fully succeed.
Jahohora’s descendants are alive in Namibia today. They still know her name. And now, because of books, so do you.
If you have young readers in your life – Jahohora and First Day is for them.
Is there a declaration of identity — from a book, a person, or your own life — that has stayed with you?