"Hamba Kahle, Tata Madiba"

     December 12^th and exactly a week after the death of Madiba was publicly announced.  Aside from the politics and peculiarity of the chronology of key events leading up to this announcement, I couldn’t help but notice that many world leaders came together and could agree on one point:

Nelson Mandela was the most powerfully humble and impacting world leader in history.

     Today, his casket was taken to Pretoria in Gauteng province. There, the masses queued at fields where buses and shuttles drove them up to the Union building where the casket was displayed under high security.

       

   My family and I drove the 3.5hrs to Pretoria so that we, too, could commemorate the life of the man we all (and especially my father) wanted to meet. Although my dad had the opportunity in the past, he chose to wait until the day we, as a family, could be introduced to Mandela. Sadly, this was not God’s will for us to meet him alive.

    

   When we arrived at the public park and ride area, we found the lines so overwhelmingly long that we knew many of those people – and especially those of us who had just arrived – would most likely not get the opportunity to see Madiba. We took some photos of the queue and headed back to our vehicle.

When we arrived in central Pretoria, all of the flags were at half-staff.

The public parking and ride area was FLOODED with people.

Dad has that look on his face where he is thinking about a Plan B.

Taking in the scenery...

Walking back to the car in pursuit of Plan B.

These are the lines we encountered when we arrived. I'm not sure if you can tell by this picture just how thick it was. 

    My dad, who will exhaust every avenue before defining a new realm to pursue, decided that we would try getting in another, less-trafficked area. Our new objective: the VIP Park and Ride...

    We arrived at Plan B and found a sweet-looking Afrikaans policeman who asked us where we were from.

   South Africans LOVE the American accent for some odd reason and God worked that in our favour. Dad told him we were from the states and he let us pass. After a few more layers of security, our family settled down in a shuttle with government workers and policemen. From there, we were driven to the front of the line with a few other secured shuttles.

  

   The Union building is a spectacular work of art. It also has a breath-taking view of Pretoria. When we arrived, we were conducted and watched by many police and military personnel who kept the queues flowing smoothly past the cameras and Madiba’s casket.

The ride up to the Union Building.

The Union Building... I was greatly impressed especially when I saw this F-250 

police vehicle. Oh yes!

   I have been to several funerals and looked at the lifeless bodies of loved ones. But it was never a reality to me at the funerals when I would see a once vibrant human lying still. I remember looking at my great-grandmother, Elisabeth, and expecting her to open her eyes at any moment and smile at me. Or when I stood over my great-grandfather, Morgan Thomas, waiting for him to sit up and break out into some spectacular operatic piece.  – I wept before both of their viewings; but I found myself almost void of emotion (or too mixed up with several) at their funerals because it just wasn’t real to me.

   

   Knowing this about myself, I was surprised by the great emotion I felt when I passed Madiba’s lifeless body. I had travelled three hours with my family, queued, and then caught all but 5 seconds of the face of a man I had read so much about.

   I looked at a little boy beside me in queue who shared heritage with this great leader. A guard greeted him by referring to him as a “young man”. His mother brought him - no doubt - as an investment into her son's future. A call to manhood as the policeman confirmed in the choice of words he used to address the woman's son.

    I looked at the thousands of people standing in the warm sun to see their “Tata”. I looked at the soldiers and security guys who organised the routes, transports, queues, display, etc. for their beloved leader. I looked at the many nations that came together. And then… as I turned my head away from where he lay, I saw some policemen holding boxes of tissues for those who passed.

“Feet away. Yet, a lifetime away.” –Abba

   

   The culmination of observations and thoughts welled up inside of me. I was sobered and near tears. I read  “Long Walk to Freedom”, heard Mandela speak on television, recalled his struggle, recalled his forgiveness, and listened to the endearing words of whites and blacks, alike.

    I do not intend to idolise a man. However, we worship celebrities and fools. Yet, here lay an honourable man who was honest about his sins and reconciled himself to those he could.

   Madiba has left a legacy that – as Morgan said – could last as long as 200 years if we remember and recount it to our children. The LORD did an amazing work through this man and gave him favour with man.  

   We - my family and I – are sobered and honoured by the fact that we can be a part of such a great history and share with our children and grandchildren.

     I see it as a mercy from God that despite our disobedience, He allowed the world to be led by such a man as Nelson Mandela.

“Hamba kahle, Tata Madiba… Go well, Father Madiba.”