Friday, December 6, 2013

In memory of a great man, Nelson Mandela

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.

Thursday, November 28, 2013

The times they are a changin'

So, big changes in my life recently. I packed up my entire life and left it in a storage space, and then more importantly, moved 12,600km from Pretoria to Cambridge, Massachusetts. Moving to a new city, in a new country, is a daunting experience. You have no sense of the familiar, and what I have found more importantly, is that creating a new social scene can be tough. Moving here in winter, when it it pitch dark at 16:30, also does not help. Look, I am not complaining. I have a wonderful life, and this new job provides amazing opportunities, but it has not been easy, and writing this the day before Thanksgiving, when everyone seems to be with loved ones, and all I have to look forward to is laundry, does not stave off the sense of loneliness I feel right now.

Sometimes just saying it out loud helps. Now, off to help myself. I am going to immediately look up other South Africans in the area, and then reach out to a few friends tomorrow and break this funk.

Onwards and upwards. To infinity and beyond. Yada yada yada.