Here’s the thing: hate it or love it, Nelson Mandela is a 94 year old phenomenon of a man. He’s done more for more people in his silence than many leaders have done yelling at the top of their lungs on podiums to full stadia. Because, as the age old adage goes, actions speak pretty loudly.
And now, he finds himself nearing the end of the road, and still not kicking the bucket while the media gives us minute by minute readings of his life-support machines. I try to focus less on what would happen if he died and more on what his life has taught me. I’m going to use a mishmash of his quotes, hip-hop quotes, pictures and random stories because the internet loves things like that. Continue reading →
Two months ago, my biggest fear was that Mr. Nelson Mandela would meet his tragic demise before getting a chance to witness the first World Cup ever on African soil only a bus trip away from his palatial home in Bishopscourt, Cape Town. You may not agree with me on this but I truly believe it was Mandela that brought the World Cup to Africa, through his name, his symbolic status and the country he helped liberate from apartheid. And for that, we should all be grateful.
Yesterday, Mr. Nelson Mandela (as children of the soil we’re allowed to call him ‘Tata Madiba’) celebrated his 92nd birthday. It goes without question that South Africa and indeed the world at large adore and revere Madiba and have deified him to the point where the United Nations has declared July 18th “International Nelson Mandela Day”.
Understand this, the only International Days the UN has declared so far have to do with Children, Human Rights, Women, the Environment and such. So, yes, it’s a big deal for *a person*, *any person* let alone Mandela to have such an honour bestowed upon them. Gandhi, Mother Teresa, Martin Luther King and a few others (may their souls rest in peace) must be literally turning multiple shades of green envious of Madiba.
All that being said, Mandela will one day die. Don’t shoot the messenger. Just hear me out.
Spain won, Netherlands lost and though the lot of us cheered or wept. Though very few amongst us were true supporters of either team, one could nary find an empty seat on Sunday night. This is the power of the phenomenon that is the World Cup. For the majority of the population(especially the testosterone based population), our schedules have been revolving around game times. People who were previously unable to remember their wedding anniversaries or children’s birthdays managed to map out 64 games over 30 days and squeeze them in between their regular lives. Because, as a friend of mine wisely said to his wife, “I fell in love with the World Cup before I even met you.”
Cold words, true sentiment. But now that the tournament is over and the vuvuzelas are no longer abuzz, one has to wonder…what next? Continue reading →
As it stands, none of our African teams have a guaranteed slot in the next round. In fact, most of them have a guaranteed flight home. The others are praying to go through on technicality, not performance.
All this during the World Cup we have so been waiting for. Much as it is sad and frustrating, it is also quite curious. It makes one wonder when an African man shall raise that trophy as though he were about to thrust it into the sky in elation. Worse than when, my worry is now whether or not this will ever be a reality.
Theoretically, yes. It’s just a matter of time. Statistically speaking anyway. But sometimes one has to wonder; if not now, then when? Continue reading →