Nelson Rolihlahla Mandela: The best of us

I looked up at the sky, the clear blue with wisps of white clouds scarce, like the greying head of an old man. The clouds provided little obscurity from the rays. The midday sun had my skin burning and brought colour to the land around me. The sand was a rusty red, a stark contrast to the blue. Like an overly tanned Latina, Mother Africa laid proudly under the scorching heat of the sun. It looked like the land was bathed in blood. I remember thinking to myself of a line that I heard in some movie, though it wasn’t the exact words I’m sure but the notion was this, that there was so much bloodshed in Africa that even the deserts are tainted red. Perhaps it was true, that the blood that was lost seeped into the earth as a constant reminder of the blood shed that once was.

It was an era where the world was divided by the colour of peoples’ skins. You were told where you could live and you had to only live where your “kind” lived. You weren’t allowed to own a property and you were not allowed to cast a vote. All your public amenities like toilets, parks, buses, schools and hospitals were segregated carefully and even more so carefully, made inferior. There were bureaucrats hell-bent on ensuring segregation so much so it was made an offence to be sexually involved with anyone from another race. Those who stood against these laws were criminalised and scourged. What we take so lightly these days were once out of reach by many. It was a time that taints the history books as one where black people were oppressed, persecuted and their liberties controlled, all by a white minority government that reserved carte blanche in their reign. The feeling of apartheid was so clear in everyone’s minds and especially in those who did whatever it took to enforce it effectively. 

For you and me, we will never be able to imagine or empathise with this. You and I belong to a time where we only know these through history books and documentaries and are yet grappling with the facts and reality of it’s extent. Amidst all these rose a man for the people. He was a man who decided that it was enough that the civil liberties of the blacks be withdrawn. He envisioned a country of racial reconciliation and of equal opportunities. While achieving this ideal, he was willing to pay the price for it. Nelson Rolihlahla Mandela was a hardihood man charismatic, intelligent and indignant of the apartheid. So much can be said of this man and to me, while there are unsung heroes, his life just hasn’t been sung enough.

 

Madiba, as he is ever affectionately referred to, was a man with many faces. He was a leader, martyr, revolutionary, terrorist and a criminal all rolled into one. All that set those faces apart from one another were the eyes that looked upon him. To the oppressed masses he was a leader, a revolutionary and their voice. That was all that he needed to be because faith needed something to believe in, and in Madiba they believed. He was a beacon whose words were so genuine and were the epitome of truth that it tugged on their heartstrings with much passion and conviction. It would stir and reach into their souls and give them a sense of hope so immensely addictive that nothing would be enough except unconditional freedom. With his arrival, now it seemed achievable. 

Twenty seven years he was imprisoned, a sentence that was initially meant to be indefinite. For most of us, by that time, we would have amassed a collection of pictures starting from infancy, to pictures of us when we were toddlers, to pre-school, high school prom night, college, university graduation pictures, pictures of our first car, first house, our wedding and even our children among a million selfies. The irony of it is that his captivity came because of his undying thirst for freedom. During that time, he was refused to attend his mother’s funeral and his eldest son’s, a state that could rankle the resolute of men. His letters were severely censored by the prison staff and his visitors limited to once every six months. Completely cut off from the world he chose to increase his knowledge from inside the 3 walls and a set of bars. He studied Afrikaans, learnt literature and history among other things. He wanted to come out better, smarter and changed his approach to overturning the apartheid. The loneliness that sets in to a man in these situations is eternally damning. In our days, when staying away from Facebook for one day is a challenge in itself, Madiba endured what no man should have, to have a huge chunk of his life thrown into nothingness. No memories of the world or it’s evolution except the colour of the limestone he broke and the walls he stared at. 

After being put through all of this, having his liberties taken away and in the face of deprivation he still stood unyielding in his ideals and principles. Most of us will be willing to crush those ideals in a matter of seconds if threatened with captivity but not Madiba. No, he was a man built to withstand the most arduous and tormenting of times. He could take a beating in life and still push forward with his fists tightly wrapped around that imaginary hope of freedom.  What is most remarkable about him, is his willingness for reconciliation, to forgive and move forward together as a nation instead of settling scores and personal vendetta. Years of oppression and injustice would have the best of us riled up in scornful fury and ready for vengeance. But Madiba, at his election parade, held the hands of the last president of apartheid-era South Africa F.W De Klerk in unison and froze in time an image that will come to signify the new South Africa, one that speaks of unity and racial equality. 

One of the most moving image of him I have in my mind is of the time that he got released. I watched a video of him walking the streets with his wife Winnie next to him, waving with a fist instead of the usual open palm gesture that most politicians adopt. It is a gesture that resembles victory, for many sportsmen punch a fist up into the air in the fervour of a victorious moment. Following that Madiba was set to make a speech to address the thousands that turned up and the millions who were watching on TV. His begun his speech with the same words that ended his last speech at the Rivonia trial. A choice of words made so wisely that it till date sends a shiver through your body with his sheer conviction resonating through each line and word. 

“During my lifetime I have dedicated myself to this struggle of the African people. I have fought against white domination, and I have fought against black domination. I have cherished the ideal of a democratic and free society in which all persons live together in harmony and with equal opportunities. It is an ideal which I hope to live for and to achieve. But if needs be, it is an ideal for which I am prepared to die.”

Those words, sum up his entire life. It sums him up as the leader of an anti-apartheid movement. Those words, by their saviour, were the drops of honey they so much thirsted for. 

When God created someone like him, he made us realise that there are the best humans around. That there are people so capable of such greatness and that not all these people aspire for self-gratification or fiscal rewards but instead, are able to put their lives down for an ideal. An ideal that today, we take advantage of. Most people may think that his work never benefited us over in Asia or in Europe and that it only helped the people of Africa. They cannot be any more wrong and foolish to think so. He made politicians look stupid, even our own politicians for that matter. He made us realise that politics is not rocket science, like how some would have us believe. The simplest and most practical approach of using something as trivial as rugby to unite a nation, proved how much foresight he had and above all, how he wasn’t afraid to look foolish in the process.

Though I’ve never met him, I’ve heard his name growing up. Never did I understand how much he did and what he sacrificed until much later in my life. But I am glad I came across his name, I am glad that I lived in a time where he lived. He is the epitome of what the human spirit is capable of. Courageous, convicted and forgiving he was the quintessential human being. 

Thank you Mr Nelson Rolihlahla Mandela for being the best of us. 

 Rest In Peace Madiba.

- by Mugi K 

P.S. During my time in South Africa, I had the honour of meeting 3 local guys from their military. I remember how fondly they spoke of Madiba and how enthusiastic they were. So much zeal they exuded when speaking of him. Having said that, I still have, in my mind, an image of an older black corporal saluting a much younger white captain, the juxtaposition still a reminder of how far South Africa has to go. But it will get there. Just give it some time.