I am no messiah. The Convention for a Democratic South Africa, Codesa, in 1993 wasn’t the Holy Grail.
It was a means to an end. That end was the beginning of a journey.
You are on that journey right now and the quest seems to have no conclusion.
The dark on my people's skin is a contusion.
Codesa was not a cure, it was a vaccine to a 350-year disease of subjugation.
We have been bruising.
But you know, vaccines have been marred by controversy.
Macaque monkeys at a UK lab died prematurely after being given the MVA85A TB vaccine.
It is obscene that the same vaccine was administered to 1400 South African infants in the Western Cape.
This moment, however, isn’t about monkeys.
It is about people.
It is about unhooking the clamps of the evil and undemocratic regime of apartheid.
This moment is about the "poster child-om" imparted upon me.
It has taken its toll on my fragile soul.
I have been living in limbo since my death. I cannot walk through the pearly gates until you set me free. Everyday I gaze at this set of large pearl-white, wrought iron gates in the clouds.
Gravity has been weighing heavy upon mine shoulders.
It has been five years, and a smile still springs on my face at seeing you spend 67 of your minutes on my birthday, being righteous.
But celebrate my death as well. Acknowledge that I was but a man.
This is how you let me go.
Word around this gate is that you enter when your people realise that the halo they granted you has ceased to glow.
After all, angels are among you. They don't live in heaven, they are born to leave it.
I have learned you don’t have to be one for Saint Peter to deny you entry.
Your people thinking you are is good enough reason.
Every year I take a long walk to the back of the queue.
My feet are weary. I have been taking a long walk since Earth. But now, no freedom.
My spirit has been cursed with stagnation since the last shovelful of earth was placed over my grave at my family plot in Qunu. I have been stuck at the gate.
I do not wish to linger here.
The ANC is not God.
I have no second coming.
Neither am I a saint.
Remember Winnie Madikizela. She could not return the cards after that bad hand. But if you listened closely when she spoke, you would have heard the snap when this Venus Flytrap gobbled apartheid evils.
Remember Sobukwe. Look beyond the enigma and see the man. Have you seen the calligraphy that flew out of his mouth? You may have missed from his grandeur powers of speech and persuasion.
Remember Biko. The Jack-of-no-fear trade. He would write what he liked and did the same when he spoke. Remember Tambo, Luthuli.
They have walked through the gates.
Maybe it will take a few more years until you realise that I never had wings.
The struggle was successful because of the role of South Africa’s majority. Not the efforts of one man.
I did let you down. I agreed to a bad deal for my people. Economically, you are still in the cold. The economy still remains white with a few token blacks.
ANC isn’t GOD.