In history, one of the greats
Despite all that his enemies did to him, he still saw the good in them
Perhaps the single most memorable day of my life was May 10, 1994.
Thanks to the kindness of a liberal white South African diplomat, I had a ringside seat at the presidential inauguration of Nelson Rolihlahla Mandela, sitting only about 50 metres away from the dais where he spoke in front of the Union Buildings in Pretoria.
As more than 100,000 of his joyous countrymen stood in intense heat listening a few kilometres from the massive granite Voortrekker Monument — which still celebrates the Boers’ emigration from the Cape into the interior, fighting bloody battles with Zulus and other tribes along the way before subjugating them — the man who against every expectation brought a peaceful end to the disgrace of apartheid declared, “Never, never again will this beautiful land experience the oppression of one by another.”
I first saw the Father of the Nation, as Mandela came to be regarded long before winning election as South Africa’s first black president, a few weeks earlier at a rally in a Transvaal town. Like almost all of his rallies during his only campaign for public office, this one near the northern border with Zimbabwe, and another that I attended in KwaZulu-Natal, had to be held in huge fields far from city centres in order to accommodate the enormous number of people who wanted to be touched by his innate grace.
Although already well into his 70s, and having endured 27 years in prison, Mandela cut a jaunty, fantastically charismatic figure. Elegantly but simply dressed, he walked with the boyish vigour and limber gait of Barack Obama, another precedent-setter, often breaking into the kind of exuberant dance often seen in even the most wretched parts of townships such as Soweto, where generations of blacks were forced by South Africa’s notorious pass laws to live their entire lives.
But frankly, no dances or words were necessary. All Mandela had to do was flash his million-dollar smile and the crowd was in his thrall.
Mandela will be remembered most for ending apartheid and for that rarest of human qualities: the incredible ability to forgive those who have wronged them and their people.
What is sometimes forgotten now is that the Nobel laureate, who was once branded a terrorist and at one time believed in armed struggle, not only helped to heal the huge rift that existed between black and white South Africans. The great conciliator and leader of the African National Congress was also able to bring together the disparate warring tribes of South Africa, including the Zulus and their mercurial leader, Mangosuthu Buthelezi, and his secessionist-minded, sometimes violent Inkatha Freedom Party.
A Xhosa born of royal blood, Mandela possessed by all accounts a regal public bearing from his youth through the 20 years he spent in jail on Robben Island, which since the end of apartheid has become a shrine of sorts to his memory and a must-see tourist attraction in the shark-infested waters off Cape Town.
But Mandela not only projected a unique image whenever he appeared in public. Regarded far more as a gifted writer with an extraordinary stage presence than as a speaker, he was renowned for expressing complex thoughts in a simple way.
The Mandela philosophy was distilled in the words: “If you want to make peace with your enemy, you have to work with your enemy. Then he becomes your partner,” and, even more famously, “When a man is denied the right to live the life he believes in, he has no choice but to become an outlaw.”
The challenge Mandela faced throughout decades of political struggle and repeated legal entanglements was explained in these two passages: “After climbing a great hill, one only finds that there are many more hills to climb,” and “I learned that courage was not the absence of fear, but the triumph over it. The brave man is not he who does not feel afraid, but he who conquers that fear.”
As Mandela often said himself, he was fundamentally an optimist who tried to see the best in everyone, including those who oppressed him.
To be sure, there were many personal disappointments and setbacks along the way, such as the charges that his second wife, Winnie, ran an armed gang of criminals known as the Mandela United football club.
But it was as if Mandela regarded every knock as a boost, getting up again every time he was knocked down from the time he fled his family to escape an arranged marriage. Even after being refused permission to attend his son’s funeral, he maintained cordial relations with his jailers and was willing to hold secret talks with South Africa’s white rulers at a time when other black leaders rejected negotiations of any kind.
Speaking in Afrikaans, Africa’s Abraham Lincoln once said, “Wat is verby is verby.” (What is past is past.)
That is the heroic code that Mandela learned to live his life by. One of the greats of history, his message is universal and should never be forgotten.
Although Mandela was enfeebled in the last years of his Long Walk to Freedom, the snapshot that I have of him in my mind captures the youthful exuberance, dignity and sense of undeniable purpose that he exhibited during that magical time in the spring of 1994 when South Africans joined the community of nations.