Nelson Rolihlahla Mandela

1918-2013. Madiba*

Nelson Mandela was released from prison in 1990. I was a sophomore at University and recall watching his release on TV. Mandela was in jail for 27 years. I was 19 years old when he was released. From the day I was born through my sophomore year at University Mandela was behind bars, without rights. He was released in February—a bone chilling time of year in the Northeast United States. In South Africa, Mandela walked into the warm, ocean sea air of Cape Town to embrace freedom for the first time in his life.

My sophomore year at University, behind a comfortable desk, I had the luxury of studying African Studies with amazingly challenging professors. We studied democracy in Africa, colonialism and the struggle for independence. I studied Swahili in preparation of a semester abroad in Kenya, an incredible and privileged opportunity that shaped my future. Meanwhile, Mandela, from prison, was negotiating the rebirth of South Africa, which resulted in the end of the apartheid system and a one man one vote system.

Today, it is 23 years later, and Mandela just passed away. I have lived in Africa since 2007. The country is vastly different as a result of Mandela’s leadership.

Today in South Africa and around the world people are saddened to the core about the loss of Mandela. A leader like no other. Today, in a world where we long for leaders and role models, Mandela’s passing is felt deeply.

Mandela said ‘A good head and a good heart are always a formidable combination.’ He had both.

Humble. Inspiring. Courageous. Extraordinary. Genuine.

“During my lifetime, I have dedicated myself to this struggle of the African people. 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 will live together in harmony and with equal opportunities. It is an ideal which I hope to live for. But, my lord, if needs be, it is an ideal for which I am prepared to die."

This was the famous statement he made in April 1964 from the court dock at the opening of his defense case in the Rivonia trial. His defense team thought him mad, he was sealing his fate, confessing to breaking the law. For Mandela it was a law he would not respect and he spoke what was true to his heart.

After 27 years in prison Mandela did the unthinkable, he forgave, he reconciled, he broke bread with the ‘enemy’ and he brought South Africa together as one nation. The world watched in awe.

Today I am in Pretoria, South Africa. I am standing with 100,000 people who have come from far and wide to bid farewell to a leader who stood for freedom and integrity. For three days here in Pretoria Mandela’s body rests in the Parliament building for the public to view. The diversity of people is staggering—all colors, ages, and walks of life. A fitting tribute to the man who helped shape the Rainbow Nation.

The number of people gathered is incomprehensible. For over six hours we stand in the hot sun, patiently waiting to say a proper thank you to the man who gave up so much for his country and his people. The umbrellas we brought for rain are used as sun umbrellas, shielding us from the fierce sun. A woman stands in line ahead of us. She is dressed elegantly in a black dress, black heals and a lovely black hat. She has the South African flag draped over her like a pashmina. A South African family of five is directly behind us. The three children are under the age of seven. The father wants his kids to remember Mandela and if it is by remembering the day Daddy made them wait in line for hours, so be it. I sit under a tree at one point to rest while my husband holds our spot in line. An elderly gentleman sits next to me. He says ‘The man waited 27 years in jail, we can wait in a cue”.

Mandela is someone who showed us what true leadership is all about—he lived what he preached, he thought of his people and country, before himself.

“For to be free is not merely to cast off one's chains, but to live in a way that respects and enhances the freedom of others.” – Mandela.

I am privileged to have been a part of the 10 days of recognition for Mandela in South Africa. Earlier in the week I was in Cape Town. Cape Town is an incredible city that starkly demonstrates the difference between rich and poor. Under its soil lies a long history. Walking along the waterfront is a clear view of Robben Island, where Mandela spent most of his jail time. One evening we participated in a memorial at the beautiful city hall, where Mandela gave his first public speech after leaving prison. Today there are mountains of flowers at the base of the marble stairs. There are flags from all over the world, pictures, cards, poems, candles, stuffed animals, tributes and love. It is evening and the salty Cape Town air graces the crowd. Again, a diverse and large gathering is here, paying their respects. The memorial host walks through the crowd with a microphone asking people to share why they are here and what it is they want to say to Madiba. Young and old say thank you. Some cry, in appreciation for what he did for them, testifying that they would not have had the opportunities in their life that they did without him. Others celebrate his amazing life. A man from Chile thanks him for setting an example for other countries. A girl from Soweto, where the struggle took root, thanks him for her education. The tributes last through the night.

“The brave man is not he who does not feel afraid, but he who conquers that fear." –Mandela

Earlier in the week, the day after he died, I visited his house outside of Johannesburg. I parked the car a half mile from his home in suburbia Johannesburg and joined the crowds walking the street towards his home. A pilgrimage. People carried flowers. Families with strollers. Children with flags. Elderly women with canes, walking, to pay their respects. Women walking, singing, never have I witnessed the spontaneous outburst of song. Struggle songs, freedom songs. At his house, piles of flowers spilled out onto the road. People sang, danced, laughed and cried. People paraded through the street in song, holding framed pictures of him. A 10-year old boy gently placed a South African flag over the flowers, adjusting it to make sure it was perfect. An elderly woman said a prayer a laid lovely purple hydrangea on the flowers. Others stood, stared, and soaked in the scene. The vigil continued through the night.

Mandela lived a full life. 97 years. To think that he lived that long after spending so much time in prison is another remarkable aspect of his life. Mandela is the first to admit his was not a saint. 'I am not a saint, unless you think of a saint as a sinner who keeps on trying.' He reminds us of what it means to be human. To strive for greatness, what is right, and the reality of tripping, falling and getting up again. He taught us to live life to its fullest. Not to shy from challenges. And to fight for what is right, nothing less.

“There is no passion to be found playing small—in settling for a life that is less than the one you are capable of living.” – Mandela.

“It always seems impossible until it is done.” – Mandela

The void is palpable in South Africa. Despite him being ill for the past few years, his absence is felt deeply. People wonder what will happen to South Africa. What will happen to his legacy? It is now upon all of us to ensure his legacy lives forever and to continue his life’s work of making this world a fairer and better place. To strive for excellence and extraordinary outcomes, nothing less. As the globe spirals with tribal, ethnic, religious, environmental and racial conflict, Madiba’s life should teach us how to walk a path of reconciliation. We owe it to him.

*A Xhosa term used for Mandela, indicating a great sign of respect and endearment. Madiba is what he is commonly referred to in South Africa.

Madiba

1918-2013. Madiba.

(Photo: His last public appearance at the SA World Cup.)

The tallest tree has fallen and it is reverberating around the world. 

Today in South Africa and around the world people are saddened to the core about the loss of Nelson Mandela. A leader like no other. 

Today, in a world where we long for genuine leaders and role models, Mandela’s passing is felt deeply.  

95 years old. 27 of his years in prison. And yet he emerged with an open heart, open mind.

Mandela said ‘A good head and a good heart are always a formidable combination.’ He had both.

Humble. Inspiring. Courageous. Extraordinary.

A man of dignity.

‘The greatest son of our soil.’ 

After 27 years in prison Mandela did the unthinkable, he forgave, he reconciled, he broke bread with the ‘enemy’ and he brought South Africa together as one nation. He did what leaders should do, he put the people and the country first. He embraced leadership as a service to the people, all people.

This morning people are sharing stories, memories. His former body guard recalled walking onto the rugby field in 1995 with Mandela and hearing the rugby fans (98% white people) chanting ‘Nelson, Nelson…’ He remembered standing on the field with Mandela, listening to the chanting in shock, awe. Absolutely unthinkable, Mandela defied all norms.

“There is no passion to be found playing small—in settling for a life that is less than the one you are capable of living.” – Mandela.

“It’s very difficult to accept that he will no longer be around,” said George Bizos, a dear friend of Mandela and a human rights attorney. “He will go down in history forever as the one person who set an example that fundamental differences between people can be solved without violence.”

“He transcended race and class in his personal actions, through his warmth and through his willingness to listen and to empathize with others,” Arch Bishop Desmond Tutu said. “And he restored others’ faith in Africa and Africans.”

"He stood for something very simple, which was for equality and fairness," said David James Smith, author of "Young Mandela: The Revolutionary Years"

“During my lifetime, I have dedicated myself to this struggle of the African people. 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 will live together in harmony and with equal opportunities. It is an ideal which I hope to live for. But, my lord, if need be, it is an ideal for which I am prepared to die." --Mandela. April 1964, statement from the dock at the opening of his defense case in the Rivonia trial

“The brave man is not he who does not feel afraid, but he who conquers that fear." –Mandela.

It is now upon all of us, every one of us, to ensure his legacy lives forever and to continue his life’s work of making this world a better place for all. 

Lion

Dusk in the bush. The air is cooling as the sun sets. The golden grass has a shimmer of orange from the sun. We drive slowly scanning, looking, hoping to catch a glimpse of a predator. This is the best time to be on safari, dusk. The air is quiet and we watch, hoping for movement. I lean back in the vehicle, appreciating the silence, the smells, the air against my face. Alive. 

We turn a corner on a dirt path and see a pride of lions. They sit on the path, watching, lounging. There are eight of them, including a large female and some young males. We park the vehicle, engine off and watch. A dove calls--the classic sound of African. The young male lions get up, poke around in the tall grass and return to the road. The grass is so high, that the lions come back to the road for easier hunting. We watch the female, a gorgeous lion, strong, tawny in color. It's the paws and the eyes of the lion that always amaze me, paws enormous and eyes a piercing yellow. 

The young males move into the bush, we pay no notice enjoying the view of the female. Suddenly, the female stands up and looks sharply to the trees, where the males have gone. She is intensely focused. Her muscles tense and bulging, an incredible creature. She moves slowly towards the trees. Stops. Then suddenly she starts running away from the trees, the opposite direction from where the males went. Immediately thereafter, the bush explodes with dust, hooves, noise, movement, wildebeest, running like rockets through the trees being chased by the young male lions who are focused and fast. A flurry of activity. 

With perfection they chase one of the wildebeest precisely towards the crouched and waiting female lion who nails the wildebeest instantly, pouncing out of the grass in total surprise to the wildebeest. All the lions circle and pounce on the wildebeest. More wildebeest run by and the female leaves the one she has just taken down and starts running after the others. Some of the lions chase after her, while the other lions wait with the maimed wildebeest, paws pressed on it, assuring it will not get away, while watching the other chase. Some of the males return to the wildebeest, five of them on the animal, trying to kill it. With each breath the  wildebeest lets out a cry that sounds like a failing horn. It's a cry I have heard before at the great wildebeest migration crossing in Kenya. There, dozens of wildebeest crying as they try to cross the river without getting killed by crocs. Here the wildebeest cries as the lions try to kill her. It's a good couple of minutes and agonizing hearing the crying wildebeest and watching his legs flail in the air. The young male lions chew on him, paw at him, but do not kill him. 

The female returns from her other chase, cuts right through the males and bites the neck of the wildebeest, eventually ending his life. After that we watch in the dim light as the lions feast on the wildebeest. Tearing through the skin with their sharp teeth, licking the blood and devouring the meat. The sound of lions eating in inexplicable, growls, grunts and roars. Nudging each other out of the way to get a better angle, its an awesome sight. We leave them to their evening meal and make our way back in the dark to the lodge in awe. 

How the pride orchestrated the kill, perfectly funneling the prey to the female, without, at least to our knowledge, any communication, is mind boggling. An awesome glimpse into the intricacies of the natural world. We were incredibly lucky to see the kill, despite the images of Disney channel and National Geographic, seeing a kill is rare. It's a brutal, yet awesome cycle of life.

Mountain Gorilla. Awe.

I had the privilege of trekking mountain gorilla in Volcanoes National Park in Rwanda recently. No words are needed, except these are awesome mammals. Like all apes in Africa (that is not a typo--all apes), the mountain gorilla is endangered. They live in Uganda, Rwanda and the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC). With conflict in DRC, Rwanda and Uganda are relatively safe havens. There are approximately 880 mountain gorillas left in the entire world. Two were born while I was there. Hope. 

(Click on the photo to make it bigger.) 

Silverback

 

 Baby Gorilla Swinging and Having a Ball

Silverback with three babes

Laughing Babe

Pig-pile on the silverback 

Rhino

There is a Rhinometer in the local newspaper. It tracks the number of rhinos killed. It is the kind of thermometer you see when people are fundraising, where you want the red to reach the top, signifying your fundraising target. Yet with the Rhinometer the red symbolizes the blood of rhinos, you pray it does not keep rising. We are in Kwa Zulu Natal. On Monday the meter indicates 54 rhinos killed in the Province and by Friday it reads 60. Despite the noble efforts of scouts, agencies, concerned citizens, and conservation groups, the slaughter continues. Each day we hear of one, two killed. One every 13 hours in South Africa. A guard sits on a rock, holds his head in his hands, distraught. These are the brave men putting their lives on the line to protect these mighty mammals. Another day we hear from the head of security, 'We just got another report, one is shot, still alive, she has a baby with her.' These are the realities in the bush. Leakage points have been identified at the Mozambican border. They move in quickly, well trained, one shot, horn hacked, boiled to dissolve the micro-chip and they go back across the border. Done. In 2005 South Africa lost 14 rhinos. Last year 668 were poached, these are only the known deaths. This year the projections put poaching at over 1,000, a horrific number. On our drive out of a reserve we see two rhinos peacefully grazing. These enormous, prehistoric creatures have thrived for centuries. We watch as they eat, in silence. A rhino was poached that morning in the same reserve. Watching these rhinos now feels different, sacred. None of us speak, but we are all thinking about the same thing, their future, their survival. 

Total Disarray

My Kenyan colleague continues to nod his head and say 'total disarray.' We are in Juba airport, the capital city of the newly independent South Sudan.

An exacerbated man makes his way through the front door (which is quite a feat within itself), scans the masses in this dim room, catches my eye and says 'how does this work?' I reply simply with a smile 'it doesn't.'

Floods of people are outside the airport, loitering, selling, chatting, working, some traveling. You enter the airport through a narrow door. In a situation like this I just plow my way through—no eye contact, just move. A man wearing ray bans, a camouflage uniform holds his arm out, says to me 'where is your ticket?' E ticket I say. You have to have a bit of an attitude or they will identify you as a rookie, and you are stuffed.

My colleague from the Ministry pulls me through the door.

The airport is one big room, no lights, well, one here and there, and it is packed, no signs. Now, when I say packed, I mean packed, wall to wall people trying to get tickets, visas, baggage checked, stamps, approvals—chaos. I am grateful it rained the night before because the air is cooler. The heat is severe in Juba, you just sweat.

Everyone is taller than I, so I am seeing coats, shirts, and jackets. I see a man whose head is above the crowd, one would think he is on a table, but no, he is one of the tall, lanky South Sudanese. They are known for their height.

Remember the game you played as a kid, peanut butter and jelly sandwich, where two of you would squish someone in the middle, well, that’s what the airport is like, an adult version. In these situations, you just roll with it, otherwise you will not move. So my elbows come out, shoulder leaning into people to make my way through and I wheel my suitcase like a lawn mower over people's toes and shoes without any thought or concern.

I am aware of my briefcase, filled with laptop, IPad, blackberry, wallet, and passport. I guard it. I could be fleeced of anything in here, I would not even notice if someone took my pants off, that is how sandwiched we are.

We make our way to the Kenya Airway counter, a dirty cinder block slab. I shove my way to the front. A tall man wearing a white boubou (Islamic dress) tries to nudge me out of the way, no way I think. I push my back against him, holding my firm place at the counter.

We check in, and then go to the passport line. The man behind the counter is shielded by glass that has a small window. It is utterly impressive how many arms, hands, passports, cash are making their way at once through the window. He sits back, sipping a soda, and slowly processes the visas.

My colleague does not have his yellow fever certificate. They tell him he must get a shot. He says ‘No Way, I'd rather stay here.’ Discussions, money changes hand, a certificate, no shot, we make our way to the line to enter the gate.

The line to enter the gate is no different. You know when you play the game of human dominoes; press everyone against each other in a line and then all sit down, and you are on each others' knees...that's this line. Absolutely no personal space whatsoever. The man behind me is a young South Sudanese. His elbows are in my back, his bag pressed against my knees. He is tall, dark. He wears a nice black suit, fresh, crisp white button-down shirt. His forehead tells me he is from the Dinka tribe. He has five impeccable thin lines, scars, across his entire forehead. Incredible scars which signify where you are from.

The line into the gate has turned into anarchy. The man working at the entrance waves me over in a firm manner, I am in the wrong line, I should be in the ladies line. I stand, wait. My colleague from the Ministry continues to hold my arm; it is a very common gesture here and throughout Africa. It's a sign of friendship, care. It is common to see people holding hands, men. Friends. When you meet someone, you do not shake and let go, you continue to hold hands as you greet each other.

South Sudan suffers from a number of things—poverty, war, conflict and what we call the Big Man Syndrome. You see it in the cars they drive, the people that they have supporting them. Here in the airport we see it in the line. They head right to the door waving their way through.

The man at the door now pauses both lines. Nobody is moving into the gate area, nobody moving out. You can picture him thinking ‘Now, all of you, reflect on my power.’ It’s fantastic. You just have to smile and drink in the whole situation.

South Sudan is the youngest country in Africa. Newly independent after decades of war, the worst in Africa and that says a lot. In South Sudan 50% of the population is under the age of 20. 80% illiteracy rate. Combine that with very easy access to weapons, and you have a lethal cocktail. This was the strategy of the North, oppress the masses, don't educate them and they will stay underneath you. Well, after decades of war, they are now independent.

When you land in Juba you notice the runway filled with UN, WFP (World Food Program), Red Cross and other humanitarian aid planes. Juba, the capital of S. Sudan, has approximately 1.3 million people, but this is an estimate—nobody really knows. It sits on the Nile, and yet there is no electricity, no running water. The Nile is lined with diesel generators pumping waters into trucks to service the city.

We are working with the government to help them develop policies, processes and frameworks that will ensure the country can develop in a way that protects their natural resources (water, forests, wildlife, parks) while simultaneously fostering a diverse and robust economy. It’s a country with enormous potential which we hope to help them fulfill.