FEATURE

NAMIBIA

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In African folklore, the ‘golela’ is a mythical, malevolent, manlike being that hides in the shadows – a fitting title for the latest project by Namibian photographer Ericke Tjiueza. In his visual series ‘Golela’, Tjiueza casts light on the darkness hidden within Namibia’s diamond trade, framing masculinity not in the sparkle of wealth, but in the grit and endurance of the men whose sweat fuels treasures they never touch. Here, Tjiueza shows how Black masculinity is forged in dust, silence and survival, his portraits laying bare the stark divide between those who mine the earth and those who claim its brilliance. Photographs by Ericke Tjiueza. Interview by Milly McPhie

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Design//Life Africa: Why did you decide to go to Oranjemund?
Ericke Tjiueza (above): Oranjemund is home to the first Namibian artist residency run by the OMDis Town Transform Agency, an enterprise set up to help move Oranjemund’s economy beyond mining. I applied for it because I wanted to be part of something local and foundational; to contribute to the creative ecosystem in Namibia and to engage with my country in a more immersed way. There’s something powerful about creating from where you are.

Did you know what the project was going to be about before you arrived?
No. I just wanted to expand my practice. I was toying with the idea of painting or making garments, something more physical than photography. I wasn’t sure what the final form would be, but I was open to discovery. The intention was to push my boundaries.

How did you become a photographer?
I was 13 when I got my first camera – we were on a family trip to Angola and I became the unofficial photographer. I’ve pretty much had a camera in my hand ever since. I grew up in a home where visual culture was embedded into everyday life. My parents had VCRs and stacks of tapes and we often made home videos or watched films together. It shaped the way I see the world: I’ve always processed things visually. But it wasn’t until after university that I decided to pursue photography professionally, and I’ve been doing it for about ten years now.

Was there a specific moment, story or image that inspired “Golela”?
Yes. In Oranjemund there’s a very particular visual motif: the miners wear balaclavas and you see them everywhere – on the street, in shops, in cafés. What struck me was how these functional garments began to feel like a kind of streetwear. It gave the men anonymity and in that I saw bravery. That tension between utility and identity, the uniformity of labour versus the individuality of style, really stayed with me.

What did you hope to explore or challenge through “Golela”?
“Golela” is a meditation on Black men’s
bodies – how they’re used as instruments of labour. In Oranjemund, most of the men work 12-hour shifts in the mines. Their physiques are visibly shaped by that labour. But beyond strength, I wanted to talk about value – how these men don’t own the product of their work. They extract diamonds but rarely see the wealth. I wanted to flip that narrative and say: “You are the diamonds. Your bodies, your lives, your sacrifices, that’s the real value.” There’s also a longing for freedom in the town, a quiet desire to escape. I wanted “Golela” to reflect the strength, beauty, loss, yearning and grace.

How do you approach the idea of masculinity in your photography?
Masculinity is always on my mind, especially Black masculinity. I’m interested in the tension between how Black male bodies are perceived globally (often with fear or fetish) and what they are in reality – complex, gentle, layered. I try to present strong bodies as soft subjects, with autonomy and vulnerability. It’s about holding space for that contradiction.

‘The miners extract the diamonds but rarely see the wealth. I wanted to flip that narrative and say: “You are the diamonds. Your bodies, your lives, your sacrifices, that’s the real value”’

What stereotypes about African men are you trying to break or reframe?
I’m less concerned with stereotypes and more concerned with archives. There’s a lack of recorded African life, especially nuanced, artistic documentation. We don’t see enough of ourselves in historical or digital records and that absence feeds into erasure. My work aims to contribute to a body of African imagery that’s deliberate, spectacular and self-authored. I want future generations to look back and see us fully – our style, our stories, our presence.

Has “Golela” influenced your understanding of what it means to be a man in contemporary Namibia, or even contemporary Africa?
Yes. It’s made me confront the contradictions in how masculinity is lived here – the pride, the duty, the fatigue. It showed me that even in a remote town men are constantly balancing tradition and survival, strength and silence.

How did you get on with the community? Was it receptive to your ideas?
It was incredibly warm. Oranjemund has a slower pace of life and people were generous with their time and stories. I worked with two women from the local arts centre to create the balaclava masks that we used in the series. That collaboration felt really special.

What’s your process for directing your subjects and selecting your images?
There wasn’t a lot of time for post-production so I had to be intuitive. I chose men who physically embodied the miner’s form, the people whose bodies told the story of labour. One model I met at the pharmacy; another I knew from around town. The direction was minimal. I tried to keep things instinctive and true to the environment.

Is there a recurring symbol, texture or mood you’re drawn to in the series?
Absolutely. I’m drawn to opposites – water and sand, light and shadow, softness and grit. There’s a recurring sense of timelessness and escape. Masks, earth, air – they all weave into a visual language of freedom, resistance and playfulness.

What did you learn through this project? About photography, about people or about yourself?
I learned that Namibia is filled with stories waiting to be told. This project deepened my love for community-based storytelling. It’s the start of something and also a continuation of my practice, but in a more rooted direction.

What role do you think photography plays in reshaping narratives about African men?
Photography plays a huge role. It’s one of the most powerful tools we have to define ourselves visually. It influences how young African boys see themselves – their hair, their skin, their future. By creating an archive of contemporary African life, photography allows us to research ourselves, reclaim our identities and imagine new possibilities.

What’s next for you?
I’ll be exhibiting at Africa Foto Fair later this year, and I’m working on a new project and thinking more seriously about publishing a book. Exhibitions, travel and new stories are on the horizon.

As told to Milly McPhie

Visit: www.ericketjiueza.com
IG: @ericketjiueza