(...As we drew closer to celebrating our Thirty Fifth independence anniversary my mind kept tumbling back to our years of upheaval and it settled on that considerate and very inclusive stalwart of the liberation struggle.) 

Immanuel Shifidi spent part of his adult life on Robben Island along with other stalwarts and equally modest patriots, among these, Messack Victory, Martin Kapewasha, Ben Ulenga, Willem Biwa, Ida Jimmy, Kahumba ka Ndola. When they were freed, the Council of Churches in Namibia, the church organization for which I worked as Director of Welfare, received these exceptional revolutionaries and took responsibility for their welfare. On the Sunday in question, SWAPO organized a public rally and word was around that Koevoet, the South African death squads in Namibia at the time, would break up the rally. The people arrived in large numbers amid guarded anticipation and excitement as it was reported that SWAPO President Sam Nujoma had sent a special message to the nation. 
The rally commenced with revolutionary singing and dancing. The podium was constructed to the east of the open space between the Lutheran Church and the Katutura Secondary School. When Immanuel Ngatjizeko was called to the podium, the crowds stood in attention as he was the carrier of the ground breaking message.   Then there was a sudden contained explosion, the public address system died, followed by a strong movement of the crowds shifting. I stood in the back of Jeremiah Nambinga’s van on the western edge of the crowd along with John Libenberg, Pinehas Aluteni and Charles Tjijenda. Libenberg jumped off to take pictures and we followed suit to a shocking site: Immanuel Shifidi lay in blood with a sharp arrow-like object protruding through his chest from the back on the left side of his chest. Shifidi’s eyes were wide open and he was breathing heavily. As I raised my head towards the podium, an army truck moved towards the podium and dismantled it in one go, by miracle all who were on stage escaped. Teargas canisters lay smoking all over the place. Dr Thomas Ihuhua helped a breathless woman into the back of his van and I rushed to help him. We mingled around with his van and I jumped off.
I thought of Immanuel Ngatjizeko, the main speaker. Was he arrested or killed in the stampede? Next I saw Immanuel climbing over a two-meter fence and collapsing on the other side into Meester Katsao’s yard. As I looked further to take stock of the comrades in front of Immanuel, I could not believe my eyes: Reverend Erwin Tjrimuje had outsprinted Immanuel and was already around the house. They swiftly went through the gate of the yard and disappeared in the direction of the Katutura Single Quarters.
Some comrades chased a few young men believed to be the perpetrators, they ran in the direction of the Sentrale Winkels. Charles Tjijenda and I joined the chase. Solomon Gamatham was in hot pursuit with a 4x4 land Cruizer. Gamatham drove over a pavement and I closed my eyes, believing that he was about to kill someone. When I opened my eyes his car lay on the ground. The chase was aborted. As we now had to attend to Comrade Gamatham. He was taken to the Katutura hospital with a broken arm. Charles and I ran back to the site of the rally where the police pushed the crowds in all directions with their vehicles and threw teargas in all directions as if it had reached its sell-by date. They were reluctant to get out of their vehicles for obvious reasons, as the crowds hoped to lure them out of the vehicles for a proper showdown. 
Shifidi was still on the ground with no ambulance in site. He was getting weaker. Jeremiah Nambinga, John Liebenberg, Charles Tjijenda and some Comrades lifted Shifidi onto Nambinga’s van. The van’s front screen was shattered and glass lay all over the interior. Charles pulled Nambinga back as he tried to jump onto the driver’s seat in order to rush to hospital. We cleared some of the glasses using our jackets and shirts. John Libenberg threw his jacket onto the driver’s seat and Nambinga took off. It was deurmekaar.
Aluteni and I rushed to our vehicle and hurriedly drove towards the Katutura Hospital. As we pulled off my eyes caught site of Comrade Hevita, a SWAPO Youth League and NANSO leader, trotting away from the mess at the scene of the rally. As I dropped speed to wait for him, a rubber bullet hit and shuttered our rear screen. I saw a charging army Casper and I accelerated, as the situation obtained, my only option was to wish Comrade Hevita the very best under obtaining circumstances. I have always treated Comrade Hevita with utmost courtesy as I feel so guilty for that day.
Aluteni and I rushed into the emergency ward. The site was emotional. Meekulu Helvi Kondombolo, mother of President  Sam Nujoma, and Meme Ice Cream, sat motionless next to the bed on which Shifidi lay covered in white. I removed the white sheet covering his face. His big eyes were closed and he was not breathing. Forty minutes later Meekulu Kondo arrived at the Shifidi residence in Golgotha, where the crowds had gathered contemplating what to do next. Meekulu calmly and as usual bravely, broke the sad news amid pandemonium as the waiting exploded into thunderous mourning. 
The following week there was a memorial service and hundreds turned up. Meekulu Kondo rose, walked slowly to the podium amid thunderous applause. She said the words that stuck in my mind to date: “I commit the children in Your Hand O Lord, for You alone know the way”. The congregation was reduced to tears. It was a day filled with emotion. Meekulu Kondombolo stood up to leave the Shifidi residence. The crowds rose in song, as if single minded, desperate to follow her all night. This was Dark Sunday in Katutura.