Beloved

1994. My living room was filled with people, eyes glued to the screen, watching 'The Inauguration'. I was ten years old, sitting on the floor with a piece of white A2 cardboard in front of me. On it I was attempting to draw children of different races and nationalities, holding hands in a circle. This wasn't homework or a school project. It was the product of being swept away in the romance of a movement far beyond my comprehension.

In the months preceding this day I had been listening intently to the adults, through my child's ears, as they predicted, pontificated and even prayed. At school we were learning the new anthem, it was fun, it made us feel included in whatever was going on in the big, crazy world. Things were changing, there was electric excitement in the air and I couldn't understand why all these adults looked so serious. So scared.

I remember looking up at the t.v and seeing a smiling Nelson Mandela dressed in one of what was to become his signature technicolour shirts, waving proudly to the masses. I loved his gentle looking face. He made me want to smile too. He was our new president, our new black president and I thought he was brilliant. He was dancing! How could anyone be afraid of a man like that, dancing and smiling and waving to masses of happy people?

A year in and the subsequently unfounded fear had seemed to have (mostly) dissipated. White South Africans relaxed a little and the stocked-up cans of food collected dust in the garage.

As I grew up and I began to learn more about the history of my beautiful country I came to respect and adore this remarkable man. He fascinated me and his teachings of acceptance, unity and peace are codes that we can only try to emulate. The years of his presidency were filled with hope and peace and real progress.

This morning I read that Our Madiba, beloved of not only a nation, but millions all over the world is in hospital. For now there is only speculation, but I don't want to miss the chance to say that it astounds me that one person could do so many courageous, beautiful, meaningful things for the rest of humanity, in one lifetime.

When I have children of my own, I will tell them his story with reverence and humility. And when I think back on that day in 1994 I will feel lucky that I was alive in an era of hope and pride.