Mr Matthew Shikongo: Mayor and Nightclub Owner - Namibia's Godfathers Bedtimes Series Episode 4

Once upon a time, my boy, in the early days after Namibia became free, Windhoek was not the big, busy city you know today. It was a place waking up from a long sleep — full of hope, full of change, and full of people trying to build something new together.

And among those people was a man named Mr Matthew Shikongo — a man who would one day become the first black mayor of Windhoek… but who also owned a nightclub with the most exciting name in town: Club Thriller.

Now, your dad was still a young man then, working at the Chamber of Commerce and Industry. Back in those days, there were two chambers — a white one and a black one — each holding its own meetings, each believing it knew best. It was like having two soccer teams trying to play on the same field without passing the ball to each other.

But the country was changing, and it was time for the business world to change too.

So in 1992, your dad was given a task that felt a bit like trying to convince two stubborn goats to share one small patch of grass. He had to help bring the two chambers together. To do this, we invited leaders from all sorts of sectors — finance, politics, social development, and more — to chair eight committees.

And that is how I got to know Mr Shikongo properly. Not just as a businessman, not just as the man behind Club Thriller, but as someone who believed in unity. He was already well‑known in Katutura — always busy, always building something, always walking into a room as if he carried a spark of electricity in his pocket.

By 1996, after years of meetings, cups of tea, arguments, agreements, and more meetings, we finally brought the chambers together into one national body: the Namibia Chamber of Commerce and Industry. It was a proud moment — a sign that Namibia was learning to work as one.

But that wasn’t all.

A few of us, including Mr Shikongo, started something called the Opale Social Club. Every Friday, we met to learn about the new rules of the new Namibia. One week we’d learn how to apply for fishing quotas. Another week we’d learn about mining licences. It was like a weekly masterclass in how to build a future — a school for grown‑ups who wanted to help shape the country.

Then came 1993, when Mr Shikongo decided to run for mayor — and won.

The first black mayor of Windhoek. For many of us, it felt like watching the sunrise after a long night. Suddenly, the faces leading our city looked like the people who lived in it.

But, my boy, life always has a twist waiting.

In 1995, your dad was living in Paris and flew home at the same time as the Miss Universe finalists. On the flight from London, I saw Miss Egypt crying. She had lost her luggage, and no one could understand her French or Arabic. So I stepped in. I spoke French, and with the help of some French businessmen, we sorted everything out.

Later, at one of the Miss Universe events in Windhoek, the Egyptian ambassador came to thank Mr Shikongo for the kindness shown by Namibians — especially by me. And because of that moment, I found myself speaking to some of the most beautiful women from French‑speaking countries. Life is funny like that — one small act of kindness can open doors you never expected.

Now, my boy, here is the part of the story that is really for you.

Your dad’s full name is Milton Martin Ronald, but as an Owambo speaker, sometimes the r and l dance around each other. So “Milton” becomes “Mirtin”, and yet — you still answer. Because, as Shakespeare said, a rose by any other name would smell just as sweet.

And that is the moral of tonight’s story:

Names may twist, languages may stumble, but kindness, unity, and courage always speak clearly.

Just like Mr Shikongo helped bring people together, and just like your dad helped a stranger on a plane, you too will grow up in a world where your actions matter more than how your name sounds.

Sleep well, my boy. Tomorrow, we make more memories.