20 years later

Today is the twentieth anniversary of Nelson Mandela's release from prison. I remember the day he was released. It was a stuffy Sunday afternoon and my heart was in the pit of my stomach.

I made many wrong assumptions in the period when the Apartheid laws fell and political prisoners were released. I did not know the facts and their stories. There was a huge divide and it was definitely more difficult to obtain information on, for example, the Rivonia trial. By the time it reached me, it was already contaminated by a grown up's opinion.

Four years later, we had our first democratic election. It lasted 3 days and it scared me. South Africa prepared for war and my parents, like countless other South Africans, stocked up on bullets, canned food & candles. They were ready. However, war did not come.

There were rumours of Mr Mandela going to charities, playing with children, actually... not doing any of the things I so feared. When I finally got to read his biography, I was ashamed and humbled. We have done nothing but cheat him out of a life, and yet he gave whatever life he had over for South Africa - black and white alike.

Side note - it is equally magical to hear another black man, bishop Desmond Tutu, say: "God loves you, He cares for you... God loves you", to white South Africans, just like a father would to his children.

It is tempting to stay in a corner, cry, repent and apologise. Yes, there are times we need to be in a corner, cry, repent and apologise. However, just like in our spiritual lives, where we sometimes frown on the practice of people 'giving there lives to Jesus' over and over every Sunday, never building a relationship with Him. Just like we cannot keep meeting Jesus for the first time every week, we cannot stay in a corner, cry, repent and apologise for Apartheid.

I think our hearts should remain repentant, but it has to move into relationships. I have a few black acquintances and one really good black friend. I would be so much poorer had I not had young Buhle in my life. We can exchange stories and I learn a lot by just listening to this boy and listening to his comment on mine. He is trying to teach me Zulu and I am trying to teach him to drive.

Let us then set an example to our children? Let's reach out? When I say 'reach out', I do not suggest that we just find random blach people and feed or clothe them. Part of reaching out is to realise that we are equal, and as whites, we do not necessarily have anything to offer, but our firndship.

I think the basis of this 'reaching out' will always be two-fold - inspired by God and making restitution for what we and our ancestors did wrong.

So, let's move forward then (with the condition that we remember where we come from and why we are on this journey)? I pray that we will be able to show a fraction of the love and grace Madiba showed.