I’ve finished watching the last of the documentaries on celebrating ‘Nelson Mandela, One Hundred‘; I thought I knew all I needed to know about the man, about the country, about Apartheid, the tortures and the atrocities, but I was wrong.
This time around I realise just how close he was to all the saints we know and that probably (although not in my life time), he’ll be made a saint. I also learnt that my other idol, Maya Angelou died not too long after Mandela. I wondered if when she wrote the poem His Day is Done that some six months later, it would also apply somewhat, to herself.
His benevolence, tolerance and altruism reminded me that I still need to be more forgiving, to be a much better listener and more importantly, that it’s ok to have high standards, just as long as I realise to temper those standards when applying to people and situations.
What Mandela’s freedom did for me could almost be equated with being cleansed by the blood of Christ. If not for Mandela’s victory election, as a black person I would not have been able to live in South Africa and had all those incredible experiences. I am so grateful Nelson. Happy 100th and you should know, that we will never forget you.
Just last year I bought her latest book Mom & Me & Mom. I put it away in my library telling myself that at some point I will read it. January of this year I went through my growing number of books yet to read and saw this book and decided to read. It was simple, beautiful yet deep; it touched me as it made me to stop and pause ever so often to reflect on my relationship with my own fractious mother. In fact, if I’m honest, I found it shaming as it showed how Maya, over time, learnt to understand and forgive the shortcomings of her mother, Vivian Baxter. It made me realize I have a lot of work to do and that as I get older, I must make sure I tie up all those loose ends. I believe Maya successfully did this.
I was introduced to Maya not through her books, but I was somehow coerced to listen to her, each time she spoke. She had this incredible facility to speak, so much so it stopped me dead in my tracks when she spoke. When I lived in London, I would see her on TV programs such as The Michael Parkinson Show or on Channel 4 News when she was interviewed by the presenter Jon Snow, and countless other shows I saw her in. She was profound, and had this warm, compelling, charm about her. Not only did she possess wisdom but had control over the English language – she could use it to say precisely what she wanted it to say. In my mind, she was a sort of alternative Margaret Thatcher where in place of the cold politics was a spirituality; and just like Thatcher, Maya’s sentences would flow without the intrusion of hmm’s or aah’s, her beliefs would be stated in not too many breaths; and with her naturally deep voice, she spoke with a quiet authority giving the impression that despite talking to the audience, she was speaking to you, directly. This is a weird thing to say, but I always felt she sounded as though she was speaking on behalf of God, that she was the chosen one, sent on a mission or an assignment to complete. There was no one like her.
I’d like to think that God feels she has successfully completed this assignment and she is now in His warm embrace. I ask God to rest her gentle soul and give her family the strength and support they will need in this time.
there is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you… Maya Angelou