Just over a month ago, I moved to
Cambridge, Massachusetts. I am a 44-year
old South African woman, who has never lived outside of South Africa. Moving to a new city is hard enough, but a
new country even more so. For several
days now I have been feeling the distance, but tonight the 7800 miles
separating me from my home in Pretoria is not just a number, it is a punch to
the gut. This is because of the news
hearing Madiba is dead, sitting in a room that is not yet fully home.
Every South African over a certain age
(erm, like mine) has a Madiba memory. I
grew up in a small town of mine workers.
Racism was alive and well in my environment, and because of the media
restrictions, we never heard of Mandela, or even saw photos of him.
I was at in my 3rd year of
university, studying political science (I have always been a political junkie),
when we heard that Nelson Mandela (Madiba) was being released from Victor
Verster prison outside Cape Town. I had
a small black and white television, and I remember myself and a few friends
crowding around that tiny television on 11 February 1990, when we saw those
first iconic pictures of Madiba walking out of prison, holding the hand of his
then wife, Winnie, and just completely surrounded by an entourage of friends,
family, media, and well wishers. Words
to this day cannot describe the impact those pictures had on me. I knew instantly that we were in for a very
different future than my past.
When he later stood above a crowd of
thousands at Cape Town city hall, and we first heard him speak, everyone knew
we were watching the start of something new and amazing. The next few years were spent in a flurry of
negotiations about the future of South Africa, all culminating in the elections
on 27 April 1994. My father had passed
away just 9 days before that day from a long battle with cancer. Of course I often thought on that day of the
fact that my Dad would never see this happen.
Standing for hours in line with one of my best friends and her husband
to cast that vote felt surreal. Here we
were, people of all colours, ages, political orientations, all edging forward
slowly to that ballot box. I am usually
not a very patient person, but that day the slow line was not a burden, but an
honour. I was voting for the new South
Africa – it was all worth it. This was a
sentiment shared by so many millions of South Africans that day, as evidenced
by so many memorable photos from that day.
The emotions of that day were however
topped by those from his inauguration just two weeks later. By this time I was living in the capital city
Pretoria, and was fortunate enough to be able to go to the Union Buildings that
day for the inauguration. The energy of
that day was indescribable. The vibrancy
of the colours from people from all over the African continent marching to the lawns
of the Union Buildings, the sounds of people singing in so many different
languages – and everywhere people smiling, being happy. At one point I just sat down on the pavement
to watch the ocean of humanity file past me, and I just wanted to drink in
every moment.
And when Madiba finally appeared in the
distance, and we saw him on the big screens, giving his inaugural speech, and
for 9 minutes he held us all in rapture.
(See the YouTube video here - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LnVffzyaf-Y).
He spoke of new beginnings, of letting go
of the past, and forging ahead together.
That day will remain one of my most precious life memories forever.
Because of his words, I have committed
myself for the last twenty years to public health, and public service. There was no greater honour than working in
Madiba’s government, and contributing to some of his landmark programmes,
including free primary health care, and the Reconstruction and Development
Programme.
What Madiba’s life taught me is that you
need to live your life with conviction and integrity, a life devoted to helping
others, and I have tried for the last 20-odd years to remain true to those
principles.
Tears were streaming down my face when I
heard of Madiba’s death. Before leaving
South Africa, I had been one of those people who went to the hospital, only a
mile away from my home, to pay homage to his life and sacrifice. Even sitting now writing this, I am
constantly overwhelmed by sadness, and especially at not being able to be in
South Africa to once again go to the many memorial events that are surely being
planned to go pay my last respects to a personal hero. These few memories shared is just one way in
which I can honour the legacy of a man that was more than a human – he was a
giant.
Tata, I share in your family’s sadness
today. Letting go of you is hard for all
of us, but your lasting legacy will last long after I am gone, and that is
enough.
Hamba kahle Tata Madiba.
