Madiba showed the way to fight. The frustrated and jobless must not betray him, writes Nomusa Mthethwa.
It was a Friday morning when dark grey clouds descended upon Johannesburg, stubbornly close together in their refusal to break, never once letting the sun peep out.
It was as if the skies above had joined in our mourning the greatest son of South Africa, Nelson Rolihlahla Mandela.
A fog of sorrow enveloped the city.
Everywhere I went it seemed people were driving a little more slowly, speaking more quietly, smiles were smaller and laughter seemed more hollow.
The mood was ominous, something terrible had happened and we all felt it.
Yet even in death, Tata, your ideals and values lived on, all the more. I saw your compassion when one black woman, in the middle of the newspaper aisle at a supermarket, burst into tears at the sight of the headlines informing us of your passing, and a white woman behind her who did not know her, started to comfort her.
I saw your altruism when a man gave a R100 note and a loaf of bread to the beggar at the robots.
I saw your vision of a united non-racial South Africa when black, white, Indian and coloured people from all walks of life gathered outside your homes in Houghton and Soweto to pay tribute and honour your life.
On the saddest dawn in South Africa, I saw the greatest acts of kindness and a nation unified.
Thank you, Tata, for the immense sacrifice you made. You gave up your freedom so that we could be born free. You felt that your freedom and the freedom of your people were intertwined, so you could not be free until we were all free.
Your daughters and sons did not grow up with a father, your wife was left alone without her husband for 27 years so that we, who were not even conceived when you were released from prison, could enjoy a life of peace and liberty.
Thank you for teaching us that we should treat all people with the same dignity and respect, whether they are royalty or citizens, statesmen or labourers – that we are all human beings who deserve to be treated equally, regardless of race or class.
Your infectious smile, good-hearted humour and warm eyes made even the thickest tension in a room dissolve into one full of laughter and joy.
Your ability to give undivided attention to the person you were speaking to, making them feel as if they were the only person in the world, was remarkable and a testament to your humility and your consideration for others.
Thank you, Tata, for encouraging us to embrace our culture by wearing your Madiba shirts to black-tie events and by wearing traditional regalia to your Rivonia trial when you gave your infamous speech.
It is these traits and so many others that make people want to deify you, although you said you a were only a man and fallible.
There are those who would exploit your days as a firebrand radical who believed in the use of arms, twisting this to serve their agendas.
Yet we know you were a man who used peaceful means when you could and violent means when peaceful means were met with unbridled cruelty and brutality from an oppressive regime.
We know your loyalty to your party and comrades was unquestioned, to the extent that you perhaps looked for the good in people and expected them to be better even when they let you down with their greed and corruption.
We also know that you wore a white T-shirt with the words “HIV positive” at a time when Aids denialism was the ANC-led government’s position.
You became intimately involved in the fight against Aids when your party was in denial.
That you were able to transcend politics to save your people from this disease is what makes you so profoundly great.
I know my peers are angry and frustrated at the state of affairs in our country, especially because we bear the brunt of it. We youth make up 40 percent of the population, yet we face high levels of unemployment and inequality.
We face unimaginable poverty and hopelessness – much more so than previous generations.
Our political leadership has failed us and our parents, so we have become frustrated.
Our frustration turns to anger and so we call you a sell-out, a man who made too many compromises and too many concessions, a man who traded economic reform for reconciliation.
This is the rhetoric brewing all over university campuses, on social media and in the conversations of a disillusioned youth.
I think those who speak like this do not realise they probably would not have had the freedom or the peace even to have such an opinion had you not made those compromises, because our country would probably have been embroiled in a bloodbath and be in ruins today.
It is better to champion economic reform in a country of peace whose progressive constitution recognises the rights of all, than one in a state of war.
Our fight for economic emancipation may be slow and tiring, but at least the country won’t be in bloodshed, for we have the privilege of the political freedom to fight fair and with honour, thanks to you, Tata.
It is up to us now as the youth, the largest constituency and voting bloc, to push our way to the table instead of waiting to be invited.
If the government doesn’t want to hear us, we must create platforms that will force it to listen.
If the government doesn’t want to help us, we must help ourselves instead of playing a futile blame game and wallowing in a bitter pool of self-pity. We can do this by forming networks of collaboration and engagement to find solutions to the challenges we face.
If the government doesn’t want to fund us, we can find our own creative and innovative ways to raise funds through these collaborative networks. If there are no jobs, we create our own by standing up, working hard and, most especially, by working together.
Through organisation and teamwork the youth can create a vibrant democracy and economy.
We cannot afford the luxury of apathy and angry indifference when men like Madiba gave up their freedom and lives for us.
We are the future.
Let us take responsibility for and create it instead of looking back and blaming the past.
Thank you, Tata, for teaching us to transcend retribution and vengeance in the name of peace and reconciliation – for you told us that it is far easier to burn and destroy than it is to work together and build. Thank you for teaching us that there is a way to defeat our enemies without dishonouring them.
I am grateful to be part of the generation that has been named after you. Our leaders may have failed us, but we cannot fail you.
We, as the youth, have a responsibility to emulate your ideals and values and become better leaders so the legacy you left us will continue to live on for ever.
* Nomusa Mthethwa is a freelance writer and columnist for CHEKA Digital, an online street culture magazine.
** The views expressed here are not necessarily those of Independent Media.
Sunday Independent