To a young child, growing up in a changing South Africa, he seemed to be as far removed from the real world as father Christmas or the Tooth Fairy. Then came the big day, never to be forgotten, on which he proved to be real
When I was 8-years-old, my marbles and pink bicycle were more important to me than anything in life. I was in Grade 3, trying to colour in the lines and figure out story sums. I wasn’t concerned with who the president was or what changes our country was going through.
However, my parents spoke about this man, this president. They told me that “If it were not for him you would not be able to explore our beautiful country”. We even had a big picture of him, framed and hanging in the hall way. And, yet, I did not know that he was as important to my parents as my siblings and I were.
To me he was an almost mythical creature, like the tooth fairy or Father Christmas, just a man in a picture hanging on our wall.
I loved school. It was fun and most importantly it was where my friends were. Not going to school was not an option for me. I would literally have to be on my death bed before I or my parents, who have a very strong work ethic, would let me stay at home.
However there was one exceptional day. One day that my parents changed that rule. A day when the value of not going to school would be greater than their kids getting a good education.
The day I met Nelson Mandela.
Sometime in the morning, my mom came into our rooms and said.“You are not going to school today. Today we are going to church. Today you will meet Nelson Mandela”.
We got up. My mom dressed us in our Sunday best, our hair brushed back in perfect ponytails. With our polished shoes, we walked down to the church in Idas Valley in Stellenbosch.
There were hundreds of people waiting in and around the church for this mythical creature to arrive. All the children, lined up at the back of the church. He had wanted to greet each and every one personally.
My mom still said to us while we waited in line. “Remember to smile and shake his hand”.
I remember seeing this tall man, with a big smile on his face standing at the entrance of the back door to the church. He greeted every single child, smiled at them warmly and shook their hand.
When it was my turn, instead off only shaking his hand, I went in to hug him. He crouched down to receive me and put his hand out to shake mine, which I dutifully did with all the earnestness of I could muster. Then I walked off as he moved on to meet first my sisters and then the other children waiting for their turn.
That evening at home, still not intellectually understanding the significance of this man whom I had just met, I know that something important had happened to me. It was significant that I had met him and I had touched him. All those people who showed up to meet and greet him must be doing so for a good reason, I convinced myself.
My parents could not stop talking about him and kept saying “Do not forget this day. You shook the hand of the man who had made the impossible possible”.
And with those words, that evening as I got into the bath, I did not want to get my right hand wet, I wanted to preserve his touch as long as possible so my mom put my hand inside a plastic bag.
I went to bed that evening with the plastic bag still attached and finally the mythical creature who my parents spoke about so often came alive in my dreams.
To this day I have not forgotten that moment.
Today I understand the significant role he played in my parents’ lives. He gave them hope for a better future, not only for them but for myself and my siblings too. I did not know who he was beyond the myth, and yet he was part of how I had come and continue to live the life I do today, in the South Africa that exists now.
Nelson Mandela has taught me to remain humble, to give and forgive, and most importantly to live in the moment and speak up for those who are unable to.
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