Making memories, meeting Madiba
THERE was a time in South Africa when there were two worlds, one Caucasian and the other, well anyone not white.
Luckily, my circle was a colourful tapestry of all races.
I was in my early 20s when apartheid ended and Nelson Mandela became president.
As a child I was oblivious to colour but it was different for many others.
Anyone of colour had to have a ‘dompass’, a type of passbook that shows who you are and what your purpose is.
Whites were exempt and could move freely around suburbs and cities at night.
We had a team of staff at our house.
We were privileged, our house was big and we had a swimming pool.
Around eight people worked for my parents at any given time.
Others typically used pronouns ‘house girls and garden boys’.
We didn’t, they were adults … men and women.
In the early 90s, news that Nelson Mandela was being transitioned out of prison was everywhere.
Mandela was in the Xhosa clan, people were calling him Madiba, a title of respect.
Some whites in high positions were scrambling and trying to align themselves to whomever could save them from what was about to happen.
Decades living life in superiority was coming to an end and there was talk of a truth commission.
Being a journalist at this time was exhilarating.
You could feel change in the air, it was electric.
For the first time all South Africans would be able to vote.
It was something my parents had been praying for.
They felt so strongly about the change they won the tender for all the unused ballot papers from that first historic election.
South Africa is made up of many different tribes, in the province of Kwa-Zulu Natal, the Inkatha Freedom Party didn’t want to play ball and were refusing to be part of the process.
Mangosuthu Buthelezi headed the party, he was a Zulu prince and he served as the traditional prime minister to the Zulu royal family from 1954 until his death in 2023.
The ballot papers were printed and just before the election, the Inkatha party decided to be a part of the election process.
Stickers were printed and put onto the ballots.
There was now a full house of cards ready for the historic counting of votes.
That my parents still have all those ballots with stickers attached is remarkable.
Leaving South Africa was difficult for the journalist in me.
The colour and vibrancy of life over there filled me up and the news I was reporting on was exhilarating.
My flight was two weeks away when a police officer I’d become friendly with phoned to say Madiba was at the local Daimler Chrysler depot.
He was there as a thank you for a large donation to his Save the Children fund.
I grabbed a handful of film spools and raced out the door.
The depot was a five minute drive from the newspaper offices.
I was patted down on my way in and told ‘no flash’, Madiba has issues with his eyes.
I positioned myself directly in front of where he was standing.
There was a makeshift pallet stage, I was looking upwards at him less than two metres away.
I clicked away, trying to memorise what he was saying.
To this day I can’t remember what he said, just that it was gratitude for the money and how it would be used.
He finished talking and I stood up and extended my hand.
He held my hand in both of his.
Madiba was a very tall man, about 6.4ft.
“I have been raised to respect you and I am leaving for Australia soon, I really wanted to say goodbye,” I said.
I told him I saw how he learned to speak Afrikaans and the many different African languages so he could speak to people in their own tongue.
I explained how his lack of hate for the oppressors and love for all South Africans, gave me hope for the future.
He said he was grateful for those who didn’t see colour, but humanity.
His hope was for South Africa to grow and be stronger together as one heart, one soul.
Someone tapped me on the shoulder, breaking the spell.
There were others waiting to speak to him, quite the line had formed behind me.
I left South Africa for good in 2001.
The country is struggling with high crime and social problems.
However, it is still a beautiful place with a wild side you won’t find anywhere else.
I managed to meet other key players during my time as a reporter in South Africa.
Meeting Madiba is a hard act to follow and to this day he remains at the top of my list of favourites.
