My gratitude goes to a man that single-handedly raised a country to where it should be.
He, with the help of other men and women, fought to give me a place that bares a flag as colourful as the people in our country.
They fought a war that I didn’t have to fight and history was made.
This came at the cost of the lives such as that of Hector Peterson, but their memories are engraved in the minds of my generation.
This is the opportunity Nelson Mandela gave me.
He opened a world for me to immerse myself in the rich cultures and memories that are woven into the streets of South Africa.
These streets, where women marched in silence and school children voiced how they felt.
Streets where mothers cried as they watched their children get beaten and arrested, the houses that families kept because they carry family history.
These very activities are what make up the backbone of who I am and how I identify myself.
I have been given a gift, the pride that Nelson Mandela carried when he became the first black president of South Africa, my first president.
He gave me permission to sit next to my fellow white, Indian and coloured peers.
He gave me a book that had empty pages and told me not to rewrite history, but to write my own story.
He made that my challenge, to go out there and become a force to be recognised.
I realise that my opinion is as important as that of a person who has known oppression all their life.
Yes you have kept me silent but I have realised in your quietest moments you are faced with your blessings.
Looking at Nelson Mandela I see a man who loved his home so much that he spent his time in silence and thought about the generation beyond his.
He not only listened to the songs of freedom now, but he heard songs of praise that were to come.
In his silence he taught me to look beyond the now and take a step back from ignorance.
He taught me that it’s okay to ask questions and want to deal with issues that might be well beyond my years.
The older generation that nurtures me will not be there to walk next to me all the time.
I am identifiable by the man who heard my cry before I had the opportunity to say kea leboha ntate, Nelson Rolihlahla Mandela.
