First of a pre congratulations to Madiba!!! WOW an amazing 93 years this year!!! I can remember how everyone, including himself, thought that he would not see the 2007 Rugby world cup, and how he said that he does not think that he would be with us with the opening ceremony for the Soccer world cup hosted by South-Africa (and what an amazing experience and privilege it was to be part of that history) in 2010! And here once again, 2011 Celebrating 97 years, 20 years of freedom from his 27 years imprisonment. That is what we all should be celebrating on Mandela day ~ FREEDOM ~ .
I have so much respect for Madiba, what he has done for this country, what he has achieved and the message that he portrays to the world, there is so much good that has come from when he became our president in 1994, yet most of us only always see the bad, it’s been 17 years already since apartheid fell down the drain, still racism is a major part of our daily lives. It is so annoying, i wish and pray that someday this whole racial 'war' would be blown away like the Cape Town air pollution when the Cape Doctor blows, and hopefully before Madiba rest his head for the last time.
Everywhere you always only read about the BAD ..... I HATE IT!!!!! I have made peace with the world and the different races, according to me there is only one race and that’s "Human Kind" i don’t care about skin colour, to me, if you can breathe, talk, walk, sit, smile, cry then you are my brother or sister. I feel the same kind of interest and love towards humanity regardless if it is the man begging next to the ATM stand or the man I just signed the deal of a lifetime with.
People often forget the good that came from black, white and ‘coloured’.
I read an article of Jonathan Jansen called My South-Africa, this is the article and i find it so amazing and truly inspiring:
My South Africa is the working-class man who called from the airport to return my wallet without a cent missing. It is the white woman who put all three of her domestic worker’s children through the same school that her own child attended. It is the politician in one of our rural provinces, Mpumalanga, who returned his salary to the government as a statement that standing with the poor had to be more than just a few words. It is the teacher who worked after school hours every day during the public sector strike to ensure her children did not miss out on learning.
My South Africa is the first-year university student in Bloemfontein who took all the gifts she received for her birthday and donated them – with the permission of the givers – to a home for children in an Aids village. It is the people hurt by racist acts who find it in their hearts to publicly forgive the perpetrators. It is the group of farmers in Paarl who started a top school for the children of farm workers to ensure they got the best education possible while their parents toiled in the vineyards. It is the farmer’s wife in Viljoenskroon who created an education and training centre for the wives of farm labourers so that they could gain the advanced skills required to operate accredited early-learning centres for their own and other children.
My South Africa is that little white boy at a decent school in the Eastern Cape who decided to teach the black boys in the community to play cricket, and to fit them all out with the togs required to play the gentleman’s game. It is the two black street children in Durban, caught on camera, who put their spare change in the condensed milk tin of a white beggar. It is the Johannesburg pastor who opened up his church as a place of shelter for illegal immigrants. It is the Afrikaner woman from Boksburg who nailed the white guy who shot and killed one of South Africa’s greatest freedom fighters outside his home.
My South Africa is the man who went to prison for 27 years and came out embracing his captors, thereby releasing them from their impending misery. It is the activist priest who dived into a crowd of angry people to rescue a woman from a sure necklacing. It is the former police chief who fell to his knees to wash the feet of Mamelodi women whose sons disappeared on his watch; it is the women who forgave him in his act of contrition. It is the Cape Town university psychologist who interviewed the ‘Prime Evil’ in Pretoria Centre and came away with emotional attachment, even empathy, for the human being who did such terrible things under apartheid.
My South Africa is the quiet, dignified, determined township mother from Langa who straightened her back during the years of oppression and decided that her struggle was to raise decent children, insist that they learn, and ensure that they not succumb to bitterness or defeat in the face of overwhelming odds. It is the two young girls who walked 20kms to school every day, even though their Matric years, and passed well enough to be accepted into university studies. It is the student who takes on three jobs, during the evenings and on weekends, to find ways of paying for his university studies.
My South Africa is the teenager in a wheelchair who works in townships serving the poor. It is the pastor of a Kenilworth church whose parishioners were slaughtered, who visits the killers and asks them for forgiveness because he was a beneficiary of apartheid. It is the politician who resigns on conscientious grounds, giving up status and salary because of an objection in principle to a social policy of her political party. It is the young lawman who decides to dedicate his life to representing those who cannot afford to pay for legal services.
My South Africa is not the angry, corrupt, violent country whose deeds fill the front pages of newspapers and the lead-in items on the seven-o’-clock news. It is the South Africa often unseen, yet powered by the remarkable lives of ordinary people. It is the citizens who keep the country together through millions of acts of daily kindness.
~8~
I don’t care whether my 'white' friends see me with 'black' or ' coloured ' friends, i don’t even care if i fall in love with a other race person what my 'white' friends would think of it. No person can argue with me that when you fall in love, you fall in love, no one can change it and no one will tell you it’s wrong or disgusting or not ethical. I have allot of friends from a variety of cultures, colour and race, i care for each and every one of them as i care for my own family. We are all human, we all can think for ourselves and we all have the right to live equally in freedom, after all, we all breath the same air, we all share the same sun and moon, and come on, everyone has to take a shit sometime or another and don’t tell me that one person’s shit smells better than the other...
Check in again for more thoughts on Mandela day... ;)
I have so much respect for Madiba, what he has done for this country, what he has achieved and the message that he portrays to the world, there is so much good that has come from when he became our president in 1994, yet most of us only always see the bad, it’s been 17 years already since apartheid fell down the drain, still racism is a major part of our daily lives. It is so annoying, i wish and pray that someday this whole racial 'war' would be blown away like the Cape Town air pollution when the Cape Doctor blows, and hopefully before Madiba rest his head for the last time.
Everywhere you always only read about the BAD ..... I HATE IT!!!!! I have made peace with the world and the different races, according to me there is only one race and that’s "Human Kind" i don’t care about skin colour, to me, if you can breathe, talk, walk, sit, smile, cry then you are my brother or sister. I feel the same kind of interest and love towards humanity regardless if it is the man begging next to the ATM stand or the man I just signed the deal of a lifetime with.
People often forget the good that came from black, white and ‘coloured’.
I read an article of Jonathan Jansen called My South-Africa, this is the article and i find it so amazing and truly inspiring:
My South Africa is the working-class man who called from the airport to return my wallet without a cent missing. It is the white woman who put all three of her domestic worker’s children through the same school that her own child attended. It is the politician in one of our rural provinces, Mpumalanga, who returned his salary to the government as a statement that standing with the poor had to be more than just a few words. It is the teacher who worked after school hours every day during the public sector strike to ensure her children did not miss out on learning.
My South Africa is the first-year university student in Bloemfontein who took all the gifts she received for her birthday and donated them – with the permission of the givers – to a home for children in an Aids village. It is the people hurt by racist acts who find it in their hearts to publicly forgive the perpetrators. It is the group of farmers in Paarl who started a top school for the children of farm workers to ensure they got the best education possible while their parents toiled in the vineyards. It is the farmer’s wife in Viljoenskroon who created an education and training centre for the wives of farm labourers so that they could gain the advanced skills required to operate accredited early-learning centres for their own and other children.
My South Africa is that little white boy at a decent school in the Eastern Cape who decided to teach the black boys in the community to play cricket, and to fit them all out with the togs required to play the gentleman’s game. It is the two black street children in Durban, caught on camera, who put their spare change in the condensed milk tin of a white beggar. It is the Johannesburg pastor who opened up his church as a place of shelter for illegal immigrants. It is the Afrikaner woman from Boksburg who nailed the white guy who shot and killed one of South Africa’s greatest freedom fighters outside his home.
My South Africa is the man who went to prison for 27 years and came out embracing his captors, thereby releasing them from their impending misery. It is the activist priest who dived into a crowd of angry people to rescue a woman from a sure necklacing. It is the former police chief who fell to his knees to wash the feet of Mamelodi women whose sons disappeared on his watch; it is the women who forgave him in his act of contrition. It is the Cape Town university psychologist who interviewed the ‘Prime Evil’ in Pretoria Centre and came away with emotional attachment, even empathy, for the human being who did such terrible things under apartheid.
My South Africa is the quiet, dignified, determined township mother from Langa who straightened her back during the years of oppression and decided that her struggle was to raise decent children, insist that they learn, and ensure that they not succumb to bitterness or defeat in the face of overwhelming odds. It is the two young girls who walked 20kms to school every day, even though their Matric years, and passed well enough to be accepted into university studies. It is the student who takes on three jobs, during the evenings and on weekends, to find ways of paying for his university studies.
My South Africa is the teenager in a wheelchair who works in townships serving the poor. It is the pastor of a Kenilworth church whose parishioners were slaughtered, who visits the killers and asks them for forgiveness because he was a beneficiary of apartheid. It is the politician who resigns on conscientious grounds, giving up status and salary because of an objection in principle to a social policy of her political party. It is the young lawman who decides to dedicate his life to representing those who cannot afford to pay for legal services.
My South Africa is not the angry, corrupt, violent country whose deeds fill the front pages of newspapers and the lead-in items on the seven-o’-clock news. It is the South Africa often unseen, yet powered by the remarkable lives of ordinary people. It is the citizens who keep the country together through millions of acts of daily kindness.
~8~
I don’t care whether my 'white' friends see me with 'black' or ' coloured ' friends, i don’t even care if i fall in love with a other race person what my 'white' friends would think of it. No person can argue with me that when you fall in love, you fall in love, no one can change it and no one will tell you it’s wrong or disgusting or not ethical. I have allot of friends from a variety of cultures, colour and race, i care for each and every one of them as i care for my own family. We are all human, we all can think for ourselves and we all have the right to live equally in freedom, after all, we all breath the same air, we all share the same sun and moon, and come on, everyone has to take a shit sometime or another and don’t tell me that one person’s shit smells better than the other...
Check in again for more thoughts on Mandela day... ;)
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