Today, there really is only one topic to talk about.
Nelson Mandela.
This was a man who personified the endurance of degradation and persecution by a white, minority regime, and not only survived, but thrived through it all, and led his nation to a new destiny free from the scourge of official, state-sanctioned racism, and into the modern era.
His death was hardly shocking. He was very old, and ailing. You could see it coming for some time now.
And yes, he will certainly be missed, and it is a great loss.
Yet, I think that I will focus more on celebrating his life instead.
I could go on and on about specifics of what he did, and what he said. Perhaps even i will in a future blog entry.
But right now, I want to share a personal story about him instead.
No, I never met the man, if that is what you are wondering. But I did see him, in a way.
You see, although I was a terrible student academically in high school, I was not dumb. A lot of people, classmates and faculty alike, assumed that I was, because that is what I showed them. Not proud to say that, but I can hardly say otherwise.
For whatever the reason, I was afraid to show my real intelligence, as well as intellectual curiosity, which was actually quite extensive. Still is, I'm proud to say. I'm, not trying to brag, but the fact that my childlike curiosity about the world never really was extinguished is probably the single biggest thing that I'm most proud of, other than being a father.
One of the things that always fascinated me through much of my junior high school and high school years was South Africa. It's hard for people who were not old enough (or even around yet) to imagine what the eighties were like, because it really was so radically different than the way things are now. It sounds cliche, but they really were simpler times, on many levels. And things were seen in black and white. The United States were, according to my 8th grade history teacher, "the good guys in the white hats", while the Soviet Union, according to President Reagan, were the "Evil Empire".
Americans believed this, for the most part. I didn't, but that's another story.
The point is, that the world seemed far more clear cut. There was good, and there was bad, and that was that. That overly simplistic viewpoint was already on it's way out, most likely. Yet, that way of thinking still permeated in the eighties.
In some cases, it looked true, even. That was perhaps one of the things that fascinated me about South Africa, back during those days when apartheid was not merely a part of history of South African legacy, but the real, every day reality of the nation at the time, as well as in the occupied territory of South West Africa, which South Africa had ruled illegally, essentially, for decades. It imposed apartheid there, as well.
Now, apartheid had existed in South Africa for many decades. Officially, apartheid became official state policy with the victory of the Nationalist Party in 1948. Realistically speaking, it was in effect for much, much longer than that, dating back to the days of British rule. In fact, on many levels, it has existed in much of what we call South Africa today as far back as the 1600's, when the first Dutch settlers segregated themselves from the natives. It was called "baaskap" back then. It came to be known as apartheid. But there was little to choose between the mindset behind either one. Apartheid was simply a more modern version of "baaskap", and the state went much, much further than it ever had before (and arguably, further than any other government ever had before) to put laws in the books to specify the nature of the state sanctioned racism.
Yes, apartheid officially became policy in 1948, but it really began to be ruthlessly implemented in the 1960's, under Prime Minister Hendrik Verwoerd. This was an educated man, yet he was a raving racist, with a vision of "grand apartheid" that would effectively give whites total control over the nation of South Africa, and it's resources.
During this time, there were effectively at least two nations in South Africa. One was white, and owned most of the nation's resources and, of course, wealth. Whites in South Africa during this period were the first people to actually surpass Americans in terms of wealth and standard of living. Suburbs of Johannesburg has lush, sculpted lawns and gardens, and many had aqua colored swimming pools sparkling in the African sun.
In the meantime, blacks were relegated to second class status. By matter of policy, they were prevented from having decent quality jobs and lives, with inferior education and opportunities. Few nations have ever had such glaring inequality as a product of official domestic policy.
Mandela became the most prominent figure of the apartheid repression. He famously remained in jail for 27 years, officially dubbed a "terrorist" by the South African government (and many prominent American politicians, Dick Cheney included, agreed with this label).
But to most of the world, Mandela was a political prisoner, a man that could help guide the nation to a peaceful resolution of the crisis that it was constantly under with apartheid. By the eighties, it was clear that apartheid was on it's last legs, and the government secretly tried to make deals with Mandela, offering him conditional release, if he met their conditions. Mandela insisted on unconditional release. He was not a criminal, and although he had been forced to live so much of his life under the thumb of the government, he would not allow them to dictate the terms of his release and freedom. He waited behind bars.
The white minority government was desperate to cling to power, to find a way to stay relevant, to keep some share of it's power. They tried numerous "solutions", but Mandela and the African National Congress (ANC) insisted on unconditional equality. "One man, one vote", they kept saying.
Eventually, the government relented, albeit by phases. First, DeKlerk announced in February of 1990 that apartheid had failed, that political parties and organizations that had long been outlawed would be legalized again, and political prisoners would be released. This, of course, included Nelson Mandela.
Not much later, Mandela was indeed released, and on his own terms. From that point onward, the world watched this man.
Mandela worked in a tense relation with FW DeKlerk and the white government to bring about a transitional phase in South Africa, but apartheid refused to die quietly, as stubborn elements of apartheid continued through the years of the transition.
Nonetheless, the inevitable came to pass. In 1994, a multiracial election, indeed with "one man, one vote" came to pass, and Mandela's ANC swept to power. Mandela was inaugurated as the nation's first black President, elected by true majority rule. A new day had dawned.
The fact that South Africa remained a relatively peaceful nation (albeit one with plenty of problems still) was not lost on the world, and Mandela is rightly credited for largely being instrumental in bringing this about. He did not want vengeance, and understood that this bloodthirsty desire by many blacks needed to be kept in check, for the interest of keeping the country as a regional superpower.
He advocated moderation throughout, and this helped the transition run much more smoothly than many cynics expected. To that end, Mandela tried to set the precedent by accepting only one term as President, and not running again. He wanted to help usher in a tradition of peaceful transition of power in government through democratic means.
And at this point I realize that I have come dangerously close to doing exactly what I said I would not do, which is summarizing the man's accomplishments.
So, let me get back to the story that I originally was mentioning in the first place:
The situation in South Africa was one of those things that piqued my intellectual curiosity, and I began to follow it closely. I hardly ever shared this with anyone else, other than my immediate family (I don't recall at the time ever having spoken about it with any of my peers, my brother excepted). But follow it I did, and much more closely than most people realized.
My mom supported me in this, to the point that she even allowed me at some point to go with her in new York City to go see Nelson Mandela in person. She was working, so she could not go. But allowing me to go with her to the city that day allowed me to walk over to the United Nations, and wait for his arrival.
I remember the day well. It was a beautiful day, and the city is an exciting place. Back then, I always loved being by the United Nations, and believed in what it was doing. My faith in it has been shaken a bit since, because frankly, it does not work anywhere near as well as it should, although the idea of it is still something that people should aspire to.
In any case, it was an exciting day. There was a pleasant feeling, and the weather helped this along. Times were a-changin', as Bob Dylan once suggested. Eastern Europe had freed itself from the Soviet grip, and now, South Africa was on it's way towards greater freedom. These were inspiring times, and it was one of the few times when the world outlook did not seem transparently bleak. Change seemed possible. And everyone that was there that day seemed to be enjoying themselves.
It was exciting, in a strange way. Mostly, I jsut stood around, part of the gather crowd, and waited. I did see Don King and Mike Tyson walk up the road, on their way to meet Mandela, who used to be a boxer, and remained a fan of the sport all of his life. I also saw Winnie Mandela, as she came out of the UN and walked right down the street, which seemed surprising, since she was a dignitary, and probably could have had a limousine.
Mandela did have a limousine, and this is what we saw. I saw his car, and his shadow within. Very quick. Sneeze, and you miss it.
Still, I was there. It might not have been much, but I was there, and felt a part of something far bigger than myself.
One of my mom's coworkers was impressed that a white male teenager from suburban New Jersey would make such a point of coming into the city (it may even have been a school day that my mom allowed me to take off from, although I cannot be too sure about that anymore) to see Mandela. Truth be told, I am proud to have been a small part of that event.
Since then, of course, I continued to follow South Africa in general, and Nelson Mandela in particular. There have been numerous movies and documentaries. I read books about him, as well as his autobiography, "Long Walk to Freedom". I even attended the star-studded "24446" concert in New York City's Radio City Music Hall in Mandela's honor, with my brother and my girlfriend at the time.
But ultimately, I remember that one day back in 1990, and feeling the mounting excitement, the build up, as Mandela's arrival drew near. I remember listening to his address on a poor radio that one of those in attendance had brought. There was a sense of community on that day, and everything felt....well, bright.
Of course, I was younger back then. The world also felt younger, and everything felt more full of possibilities.
The world today is not the same place. I do not remember feeling that way about an active player in world events since, with maybe the exception of seeing President Jimmy Carter a few times for booksignings. Both Mandela and Carter are official "Elders". They share a similar viewpoint and wisdom, as well as general and genuine good-nature.
Yes, that day lives on in my memory. There are small reminders every now and then, whenever I see images of Mandela, particularly of those times, back in 1990, when South Africa was just beginning the transition out of apartheid. When i am in the area of the United Nations, I remember that day. Hell, even when I see Mike Tyson, I am reminded of that day!
Ultimately, though, it was studying Mandela, particularly his stirring words, and knowing his actions always somehow managed even to outdo his words, and the inspiration that his example has proven, that keeps so many, certainly myself included, so interested in this man.
He will be missed.
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