The Meaning of Life (part 2)

Why do men go to war? The same reason that men fall in love.

It is that which brings out the strongest and weakest in us that is ever worth pursuing.

An Hour with my head on Madiba's lap

Someone once asked me, if you could have anything in the world you could ever want, what would you ask for? I answered: An Hour with my head on Madiba's Lap.

He is considered the greatest hero of our time, a legend. Some would wonder why I would ask for an hour on his lap. What would you ask him? What would you say to him?

It might come as a surprise that my answer to both these questions is... Nothing. I'd just want to spend an hour on Madiba's lap.

I see the day in my head. The old man, knowing his time is near, opens the doors to a few, they can come and spend an hour with him. Intellectuals would bring their note books, ask him about the meaning of life. Write down every word that left his wise, old lips.

But then I would enter the room. What's your question my child? Nothing Tata, I just want to sit with you for a while, lay my head on your lap.

Surprised at first? Thetha my child, I don't have much time left.

I know Tata, that's why I'm more than happy to just be in your presence. Sit with you, listen to you inhale and exhale. That's more than I could ask for.

I see us sitting there, half an hour goes by, then another 20 minutes. Your time is almost up my child, are you sure you just want to sit here, saying nothing.

Ewe Tata. This is the reason I came here.

Five minutes before I have to leave, he speaks up.

Why did you come here?

I look up at him. Tata, just like everyone else, I came to discover the man behind the legend. I came to spend time with you.

What do you mean?

I'm just a child Tata, I can't for a second assume that in an hour I could inherit your wisdom. So I decided that in my hour, I'd just let us both be. I'm from an African generation that's always looking backwards, we swarm to the house of a 90-something old man, hoping to find ourselves. I was hoping to find some of you, in me.

And did you?

I guess the polite answer Tata would be that I did. You're just a man. You grew up on umngqushu no mxhelo like we all did. You had to go uyoluka, you had your own fears and dreams and desires like we all did. They don't mention that when they name every street and monument and mall after you.

Why did you want to?

Because I wake up every morning Tata and feel like there's nothing Mandela about me. I battle with defining this strong desire, always telling me that I'm meant to lead. Nothing about me is majestic or heroic. But I feel it deep inside me, the truth that chooses to whisper rather than shout. The truth that says, You Are Greatness!

So, why don't you believe it.

It's not that I don't believe it, it's more that I don't believe anyone but Me could believe it. You weren't born an icon, you were just a man. Even a boy, once upon a time. But you chose to believe it. But in my generation, we don't believe that within us lies any form of greatness. We exist, survive, get by. We don't have any heroic battles to fight to prove our worth, we just live.

My child. Listen to me. I am not Mandela, I am not the inflated perception that the world would have you believe I am. I'm just a man, a man who listened to his inner voice, and followed it.

I know. That's why I didn't come here to hear you speak. I came here to listen to your silence. To hear the one thing that your words can never say. That you and me are the same level of both greatness and weakness.

We both sat in silence. Waiting for the knock on the door, I knew my time was up.

As we heard the knock, I stood up, lifting my head from his lap.

The thing is Tata, Africa's children need to know this. WE are the greatness that gave birth to the likes of you. We, inherently have all it takes to excel and achieve greatness. But we've forgotten that. We've become so accustomed to being beggars and slaves and the wretched of the earth.

Thank you Tata for reminding me, for reminding me not of who you are, but of what I Am. God bless you,