I knew of Nelson Mandela’s greatness, years before a rugby ball ever touched my hands. I don’t have many memories of my youth, but I remember the day Nelson
Mandela got out of prison (at least I think I do). I was 3. Years later, I
spoke to my dad about how someone could go from being a prisoner to a president
and he told me “anything is possible if you
have the right heart.” Mandela became less of a symbol
or icon and more of a role model for me, in terms of the things a person could
achieve once they overcame adversity. As a kid (and even into adulthood), I
worshipped him. My first ever public school speech was a tribute to him. While
other kids had written about Masters of the Universe and Animaniacs I was busy
trying to emulate the way he spoke, carried himself and trying to understand
the profound wisdom of this man who had lived so much more than I could ever
hope to.
"Madiba is what they call him," my father
said, a name of the tribe to which Mandela belonged, and one that was often
attributed to a quick mind but a sensitive nature. Madiba, a name which struck
me and stuck with me years later, to the point where it was given to me as
nickname by a rugby team; for the speeches I used to make prior to the matches.
I watched his interview with Ted Koppel and saw someone who was more than a
man. The way he handled himself with grace, care, tact and what seemed to be a
genuine concern for every living thing and human was beyond inspiring. I dreamt
of being even one sixteenth of the person he was and I prayed to have half the
backbone and spirit of that great man.
Later when I began to play rugby, I
discovered the impact the sport had made on South Africa and the way it was
able to unite people. I had never seen a more perfect game. The 1995 World Cup,
to this day, is one of the single greatest events I have ever lived through,
even if it took me years to appreciate the impact that it truly had. Mandela said “"Sport has the power to change the world. It has the power to
inspire, it has the power to unite people in a way that little else does.” I had no idea how right he was. When he put on a Springboks jersey
and entered Ellis Park he was doing more than supporting another sports team. He
was making the profound statement that this was not a team to only be
associated with White Afrikaans, but rather a rainbow nation. None of it was
based on political gain or the strategic politics of how to increase his
rating, but rather his genuine love for uniting people who had once been seen
as enemies, as well as his appreciation for the sport they play in heaven.
When I woke up this morning to the news
that he had died I was crushed, as I’m sure
many people were. But Nelson Mandela’s legacy is
not one of grief; it is one to be celebrated. I am honored to have grown up in
a household of people who helped to expose me to such a righteous human being,
his ideals, beliefs and passions. I realized just how lucky I was. Whether
intentional or not, Mandela impacted the way I treat others and the way I treat
myself. He helped shape me into someone who is forgiving, fiercely independent,
unwaveringly loyal, tolerant and someone who is unwilling to stand for injustice of any
kind. His speeches and quotes floated around in my subconscious and inspired me
to expect more from myself in both my darkest hours and my greatest victories. We
shared the same favorite poem, one which I have tattooed to my ribcage, close
to my heartbeat. I promised myself I would meet him one day and when I did I would thank him for everything he ever taught me. I never got that chance. For every great teacher there is a student who may not realize
just how much they have learned until that teacher is gone. He was an absolute
legend of a man, but as I’ve been told….legends never die! RIP Madiba.
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