20 years of Freedom for Nelson Mandela

Meeting Mr Mandela at Broederstroom in 1994, at our Juvenile Justice for South Africa conference

In 1994 I had the wonderful privilege of meeting Mr Nelson Mandela. It's a story worth telling. But today I am remembering the day Nelson Mandela was released from Pollsmoor. It was the 11 February 1990, exactly twenty years ago. I was cooking at a camp for kids from my old Cape Town school, Westerford. We were in Onrust, not far from Hermanus (which is about an hour and a half from Cape Town). Someone wandered into the kitchen and announced, quite casually, that Nelson Mandela was about to be released from prison. My heart skipped a beat. It seemed completely impossible.

All over the world people would have been having the same reaction. This amazing day had seemed well nigh impossible until just before the announcement. The fight against Apartheid over the few previous years had become more and more intense, with more and more hope, yet this dream had still felt like it was a long way off. The pain and suffering of the Apartheid era was all around us, and we had seen many people detained in the late eighties. We'd heard terrible stories of beatings and torture and had known many people in hiding from the security police. Three people in my immediate family had been detained between 1985 and 1988. We knew we were amongst the lucky ones - others, mostly black people, had not been as lucky and had lost family members to the abuses of the system.

I felt as if I should not show too much jubilation. 1990 was still a time of mistrust and I didn't know quite how to react. I wanted to leave immediately and watch the moment of freedom for this remarkable prisoner of 27 years. If my memory serves me, the camp organisers felt the same, and the camp ended early so we could all head back and see the big moment on TV.

I set off as fast as I could, and found myself at a petrol station on the highway at the time that we expected Mandela to be released. I parked my car and hoped I'd find a TV somewhere. There was one. It was in the tiny room that was used by the petrol attendants during night duty and had just a single bed and a small TV on a table. It was afternoon, and around10 people had crowded into the room. They were a fabulous cross-section of South Africa - black people, white people, Afrikaans, English and Xhosa speaking people. They were old, and they were young. And we were all glued to the screen.

Suddenly, there he was. The old man who noone had been was allowed to take pictures of during his 27 year stint in prison. Mr Nelson Rolihlahla Mandela taking his first steps to freedom from prison with Winnie Mandela on his arm. What a dignified man! What an aura! And what quiet power as he raised his right fist. Yes, this was the man we'd been waiting to see.

I raced back to Cape Town. Parking in District Six, about a kilometer from the city, I joined a huge group of people "toy toying" down to the Grand Parade where Mr Mandela was to address the people from the Town Hall balcony. The crowd was restless. They had been waiting there since morning. People were pushing forward, surging towards the Town Hall. Rev Allan Boesak (who was later disgraced in a funding scandal) was urging people to hold back in a bellowing, amplified voice that did nothing to still the restless crowd, but rather seemed to egg them on to a greater frenzy. The crowd pushed ever forward. I kept my distance. Crowds had always scared me, especially the mass protests of the recent years. I knew I couldn't run as fast as my friends when the cops chased us.

Finally Mr Mandela arrived. I remember him cutting such a fine figure up on that balcony. And I particularly remember his wonderful voice that we would all grow to know so well holding the attention of each and every person in the throngs of South Africans who had waited hungrily to hear his words all day, and for some, all their lives. What an utterly historic moment, and what an utter privilege to be there.

The years that followed were filled with hope and promise, and working at NICRO at the time gave me a platform for the optimism I felt so strongly. It also was directly responsible for putting me in the right place at the right time to later meet Mandela. However, things in South Africa are a bit different now, twenty years on, with crime and wide-spread poverty ravaging the country. The damage of years and years of Apartheid continue to take their toll. And worse still, an immoral President Zuma is creating an increasingly dissatisfied electorate (while providing unending fodder for my cartoonist brother, Zapiro's, pen!).  The leadership of that country is nothing compared to the years under Mandela, but political freedom continues. Mandela set the tone for perhaps the greatest modern democracy on earth, and I hope against hope that South Africa can find the Mandela factor in the coming years. The movie Invictus reminds us of where South Africa was headed, and all South Africans whether living at home or abroad, need to take responsibility to let Mandela see the South Africa of his dreams in these, his twilight years. Viva, Madiba! Viva.

Photo of Nelson Mandela and Rosemary Shapiro-Liu by Nigel Branken