Across Namibia, the men and women who once endured exile and armed struggle to win their nation's independence now face a quieter but no less serious battle — one against the erosion of health, purpose, and discipline in retirement. Retired Colonel Constancio Mwandingi, a former PLAN interpreter and liberation fighter, has turned his wartime vigilance toward this new front, urging fellow veterans to preserve their physical strength and curtail excessive drinking. His appeal rests on a conviction that service to a nation does not end with the laying down of arms — it simply changes form, demand
Retired liberation fighter urges veterans to stay fit, avoid excess drinking
War veterans struggling with excessive alcohol consumption and health deterioration affecting quality of life in retirement.
The war is over, but the duty to protect yourself continues
Mark
Why does Mwandingi frame this as a national defense issue rather than simply a health issue?
Mimi
Because for him, the two are inseparable. He's saying that if you fought for the country, you still have a duty to it—and that duty begins with being strong enough to answer if called. It's not abstract.
Mark
But Namibia isn't under military threat right now. Isn't that framing a bit dramatic?
Mimi
Perhaps. But he's speaking to people who spent their entire adult lives in a state of readiness. For them, the idea of letting yourself deteriorate physically might feel like a betrayal of that identity. He's using language they understand.
Mark
What about the alcohol problem specifically? Why is that so prevalent among these veterans?
Mimi
Retirement is a rupture. You go from having a clear mission, a structure, a community of purpose, to suddenly having none of that. Alcohol fills the void. It's also a way to be social without having to process what you've lost.
Mark
Is Mwandingi suggesting they're failing in some way?
Mimi
No. He's suggesting they're vulnerable—and that they have the strength to change it. There's a difference. He's not shaming them; he's reminding them who they are.
Mark
What does "mentors to younger generations" mean in this context?
Mimi
It means modeling what it looks like to carry your history with dignity. To show young Namibians that the people who built this country are still present, still strong, still invested in its future. You can't do that if you're absent or diminished.
Mark
Is this message reaching the people who need to hear it most?
Mimi
That's the real question, isn't it? The ones struggling most are probably not at association meetings listening to appeals. Mwandingi knows that. But he's speaking anyway—because someone has to hold the standard.
Le Pouls
- A generation of liberation fighters who survived exile and combat is now quietly losing ground to alcohol dependency and physical decline in retirement.
- Days dissolve into an unbroken chain of social gatherings, and the discipline that once sustained these veterans through decades of armed struggle has largely been abandoned.
- Mwandingi issues a stark warning: a veteran too weakened by poor health to stand and fight is vulnerable in precisely the way an enemy would exploit.
- As Deputy Chairperson of the Former PLAN Combatants Association, he is actively working to rebuild a sense of collective responsibility and mutual accountability among former fighters.
- His call is not for withdrawal from community but for the same purposeful self-care that kept soldiers alive in the field — reframed now as a duty to sovereignty and to the next generation.
Across Namibia, the men and women who once endured exile and armed struggle to win their nation's independence now face a quieter but no less serious battle — one against the erosion of health, purpose, and discipline in retirement. Retired Colonel Constancio Mwandingi, a former PLAN interpreter and liberation fighter, has turned his wartime vigilance toward this new front, urging fellow veterans to preserve their physical strength and curtail excessive drinking. His appeal rests on a conviction that service to a nation does not end with the laying down of arms — it simply changes form, demanding that those who built a country remain capable of defending and modeling it.
Constancio Mwandingi spent the years of Namibia's liberation struggle moving between battlefields and command centers, translating between PLAN commanders and their Angolan and Cuban allies. The alertness that kept him alive in exile has not left him in retirement — it has simply found a new target.
What he sees among his former comrades troubles him deeply. Many veterans from both sides of Namibia's conflict have reached their senior years struggling. Excessive drinking has become common, and the physical discipline that once defined their lives has quietly dissolved into a cycle of socializing and neglect. Mwandingi, known by his struggle name Mwiya wa Nelindi, has begun speaking to this crisis directly and without sentiment.
His message is practical: stay fit, reduce alcohol, look after one another. The reasoning behind it is rooted in duty rather than nostalgia. He asks his former comrades how they expect to defend their country if they arrive at that moment weakened and isolated by excess. The question assumes they still have a role — and that assumption is itself the point.
Now serving as Deputy Chairperson of the Former PLAN Combatants Association, Mwandingi sees retirement not as a withdrawal from responsibility but as a shift in its shape. The enemy is no longer at the border. It lives in the bottle, in neglect, in the quiet surrender to the belief that their work is finished. His appeal insists otherwise — that being a veteran is an ongoing condition, one that requires showing up whole, as custodians of the independence they fought to win and as examples to the generations that inherited it.
Colonel Constancio Mwandingi, who once moved between battlefields and command centers as a multilingual interpreter for PLAN during Namibia's liberation struggle, carries the same alertness into his retirement that kept him alive in exile. Now he is channeling that vigilance into a different kind of fight—one against the slow erosion of health and purpose among the men and women who fought alongside him.
Mwandingi, known also by his struggle name Mwiya wa Nelindi, has begun speaking directly to his former comrades about a crisis he sees unfolding quietly in retirement. The majority of war veterans from both sides of Namibia's conflict have now reached their senior years, and many are struggling. Excessive drinking has become common. Days blur into one social gathering after another. The physical discipline that sustained them through decades of armed struggle has given way to patterns that are slowly undoing them.
His appeal is both practical and pointed. Stay physically fit, he tells them. Cut back on alcohol. Watch out for one another. The reasoning he offers is not sentimental—it is rooted in duty. "How do you defend the country if you are infirm and not physically fit?" he asks. The question carries weight because it assumes they still have a role to play. If an enemy were to invade, he argues, veterans would be among the first targets. To arrive at that moment weakened, isolated by excess, would be a betrayal of everything they fought to build.
What troubles Mwandingi most is not individual decline but the collective fracturing of the veteran community. Retirement, for him, has not meant stepping back from responsibility. It has meant taking on a different one: preserving the strength and dignity of the generation that won independence. During the armed struggle, he served at PLAN's Commanding Headquarters, translating between PLAN commanders and their Angolan and Cuban counterparts. After independence, he rose through the ranks of the Namibian Defence Force before retiring. Now, as Deputy Chairperson of the Former PLAN Combatants Association, he is trying to hold the line.
His message to former fighters is direct: take care of yourselves. Avoid the endless cycle of socializing that leaves no room for rest or reflection. Avoid the drinking that numbs the transition from soldier to civilian. The call is not for isolation—it is for the same discipline that kept them alive in the field. That discipline, he believes, is what will allow them to serve as custodians of Namibia's sovereignty and as mentors to younger generations.
For Mwandingi, the war for independence ended decades ago. But the duty to protect Namibia—and to protect oneself as part of that larger obligation—has not. It has simply changed shape. The enemy is no longer at the border. It is in the bottle, in the neglect, in the slow surrender to the idea that their work is finished and their bodies no longer matter. His message suggests otherwise: that being a veteran means something ongoing, something that requires showing up whole.
Citations marquantes
How do you defend the country if you are infirm and not physically fit? Do we want to be captured like chickens?— Colonel (Retired) Constancio Mwandingi
Let us take good care of ourselves and one another— Colonel (Retired) Constancio Mwandingi
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War & Conflict