Freedom

On July 18, 1918 in Mvezo, South Africa, a child was born. He was named Rolihlahla, which means “pulling the branch of a tree” in Xhosa. More commonly it is translated as “Troublemaker”. Rolihlahla earned that appellation many times over. 

Rolihlahla was the first in his family to go to school and, typical of the time, was given a Christian name there - Nelson. After completing his primary and secondary education, he went to Fort Hare, the only university that admitted blacks at the time. True to his moniker, it didn’t take long for trouble to find him. He was expelled for taking part in student protests and fled to Johannesburg. It was there that he was initiated into the life of politics that would consume him for the rest of his days.

By 1942, Nelson joined the African National Congress (ANC). He studied law and took every opportunity to speak for the rights of blacks. When the National Party formerly ushered in Apartheid (racial classification and separation) in 1948, he organized protests and strikes. The government noticed. They issued bans, arrests and jail time, but it didn’t stop him. 

In 1964, Nelson was sent to prison on Robben Island. He steadfastly believed in his cause and touted it until his release in 1990. Undeterred by the long years in prison, he commenced talks to end white-minority rule with President F.W. de Klerk. They earned him the Nobel Peace Prize in 1993. By 1994, Nelson Mandela was elected South Africa’s first black president. 

The troublemaker finally made good.

***

This was my historical fiction submission for my creative writing class this week, I felt compelled to share it today, as it was a momentous day in Nelson Mandela's life; he was finally released from prison on February 11th, 1990 after spending 27 years behind bars.

Nelson Mandela believed in the equality of people, no matter their skin colour, and made enormous sacrifices for those beliefs. In so doing, he realized his goals, as Apartheid was struck down in theory by 1991. The multi-racial elections in 1994 were the true celebrations of its end though, as Mandela himself was elected President. What a reward for everything he had done. He was truly a brave and noble figure and accomplished all without inciting racism to battle racism, or bloodshed to vindicate shed blood.

South Africa, and indeed the world, is richer for having had Madiba in it.

- 46664 -

Nelson Mandela, Speech from the Dock, 20 April 1964

“I have fought against white domination, and I have fought against black domination. I have cherished the ideal of a democratic and free society in which all persons live together in harmony and with equal opportunities. It is an ideal which I hope to live for and to achieve. But if needs be, it is an ideal for which I am prepared to die.”

Playing the Enemy: Nelson Mandela and the Game that Made a Nation

Playing the Enemy: Nelson Mandela and the Game that Made a Nation;
by John Carlin
(© John Carlin 2008; Penguin Books, 288 pages)

"One Team, One Country"; the slogan that brought the 1995 Springboks to victory on the rugby field, and more importantly, brought a country back together again, united under a new colourful flag as ONE people. Not an easy feat, and one that took years to bring to fore, but done with a compassion and panache that only one man could manage; Nelson Mandela.

"Playing The Enemy" is a book about rugby, but as the story unfolds, it holds so much more. Not one to follow rugby myself, I wondered if this month's book club pick would hold much interest for me. By the end, I felt like I was there in the stands as the final game was played on June 24, 1995. I was on the edge of my seat rooting for the boks with all my heart, aware that this game was so much bigger than just a mere rugger game. This game, played on the world stage, was a key piece in the defining moment of healing wounded South Africa's national pride. Every breathe in the nation was held and every eye was keenly aware that the game played was more than sport, but in fact symbolic on so many levels. The triumph of the day was ecstatically sweet, but moreso a triumph over old ignorance, mistrust, and hatred.

The final game would not have held such importance though, if not for South Africa's long and sordid history with apartheid. In 1948 laws were put in place to legally separate the races. Black people were restricted in their movement around cities, and in their rights as a whole. As their restrictions mounted, violence escalated and trade embargoes were meted out by nations around the world in protest to the barbaric laws and policies in South Africa. The sanctions against South Africa even went so far as to ban their sports teams on an international field. The Africaans beloved rugby was grounded. 

One man watched from a jail cell, as his nation slowly collapsed under the weight of its oppressions. That man was Nelson Mandela.

Nelson Mandela was a high-ranking member of the African National Congress (ANC) when he was arrested in 1962 and convicted of sabotage. He was sent to prison at Robben Island off the coast of Cape Town, along with several other political prisoners, and remained there for the next eighteen of his twenty seven years of imprisonment. In the book, Mandela's tale is picked up in 1985, when he started the negotiations that began the process of liberating himself and his country. 

John Carlin skillfully relates the details of Mandela's struggles to bring his country together, united as one. Carlin paints a picture of the embattered humanitarian, learning about his captors and their world. The Africaans people begin as an anomaly, but through mastering their language, and learning more about them as a whole, Mandela recognizes that they are people too, scared and not unlike himself. Through skillful negotiations, he gently builds relationships with the white world, that ultimately leads to breaking down the walls and laws of apartheid. 

Well aware before picking up this book that apartheid existed and had ended, what I loved about Carlin's story was his mastery in bringing the human emotion to the story from so many viewpoints. As I poured through the pages, I learned more about the delicate relationships that Mandela crafted, and I found tears in my eyes more than once. So much pain existed in this war-torn country, but Mandela was able to bring the races together as one in a heartfelt victory for the entire nation. He allowed blacks, whites, and all people in between to let go of their hurts and embrace each other as brothers. With Carlin's words, I wept at their hard-won and very deserving victory. 

I leave you with the South African national anthem sung at the 1995 rugby game that brought a nation back together again, via the strong figure of Nelson Mandela. Thank you for sharing this story Mr. Carlin. I truly enjoyed it.

My Homeland?

Being in Port St. Johns allowed me to stop and think. We had been travelling  with frequent stops for the previous month. We hugged the coastline stopping at little surf towns, so that our Aussie surfer dude, Brett, could jump out and catch a wave whenever he spied one. The game parks of Tsitsikamma and Addo sported sighting of elephants, black-backed jackals, kudus, vervet monkeys, tortoises, ostriches,  bush bucks and even a rare white rhino at Addo! We met locals who were generally hospitable. I had a chance to visit with cousins in Port Elizabeth that I had met briefly for the first time at Christmas. All of these things were accomplished in a matter of hours or a scant few days. It was exciting and exhilarating, but also exhausting. We pulled into Port St Johns and stopped. We were there  for two weeks. It was a time to relax and process the journey thus far.

Before leaving Canada, I had done a little research on South Africa. I had exchanged letters with my uncle and connected with my aunt. I was aware that apartheid had been a significant part of South Africa’s history. I had heard the song “Sun City”  and watched the video by  Artists United Against Apartheid. I knew that Nelson Mandela had been released from jail and that he was even elected to the position of  President the year before I arrived.  I felt marginally prepared to embrace this new country to me; my homeland. These were all small snippets of the true reality of the country though. As a visitor to the country, I was able to hear some people’s stories, but could not truly understand the reality that had been lived in the climate of fear that had officially reigned for 46 years (it had been part of the micro-climate for many years before that though). My Father had been born and raised in South Africa. His was a reality of segregation of the races. The fact of his white skin gave him privileges not afforded to others of black, mixed or Indian backgrounds. I did not know him and was not able to hear his stories about his childhood in a fractured and violent environment. I had to make do with the tales I heard on the road.

My South African relatives cautioned me by saying “Don’t go off the main roads onto any dirt roads and DON’T pick up any hitchhikers! Be really careful. Call us every once in a while to let us know that you are okay. We would hate to have to tell your Mom that we let anything happen to you.”

I heard “You haven’t lived here, so you don’t know how it is.” A fact that I cannot deny.

An overheard conversation between one of my travelling companions and a German man expressed anger, “The violence is exaggerated!” “You can see the fear in the white population.” “I feel safer walking around here, than I do in some American cities.” All statements made whilst in the middle of the Transkei.

From  yet others, “They are lazy.”

“The maids steal from you,” was a truism put forth from a white woman that had fear written all over her face.

From a white man living in the Transkei for eleven years, I heard that the reputation of violence that the area had was not fully deserved. The incidents of violence existed, but not to the extent that was advertised. The Transkei tried to set up a system of self-government to a certain degree, but the government was just a puppet to the federal government. There was unrest and negative reactions to the white populace in the area. This is where the horror stories started. It was a backlash against the injustices meted out by the white government. The Transkei was a black homeland. The blacks took it back. He happily lived and worked there though.

My experiences in the Transkei did not reflect this violence. I found people friendly, with smiles and hellos prevalent as you passed them in the street.  As I bathed one morning on our hike, I looked up to see cows wander  past. The (black) shepherd that was tending them smiled and waved shyly as he followed his cattle.  I felt it was a beautiful moment that struck through all the horror stories that had been rained upon me. I felt cleansed in body and mind. I know that atrocities happened in ugly numbers and that fostered a state of fear and anger in the population. In my transient way, I tried to understand and move through this world the best that I could.