You and those shirts...

We woke this morning to the news that Madiba had finally found real freedom. We all knew it was coming, and I suspect many of us had quietly said goodbye in our hearts a long time ago - but it didn't quite cushion the grief I felt on hearing it 'for real.'

I got dressed and wore my SA flag around my waist, as I am in the habit of doing with my scarves, and tied a black tie around my arm.  I couldn't help swallowing hard and trying not to cry on the bus - everyone was just going about their normal daily routine as though nothing had changed in the world.

It was horrible. I just wanted to be home, in my country with my people - where we could look at each other and know we were all feeling the same sense of loss.

Standing alone at the bus stop, in the hectic morning traffic, I prayed "God please, just one person, one South African, just send me one."

I heard a hoot, and a black car whisked by me, I couldn't see who was in it, but looking between the seats through the back window, I could see their arm raised in a fist, in the Amandla salute - and I frantically waved back.

I can't tell you if I cried then because Madiba had left the building or because God so graciously answered my prayer before it left my heart.

I suspect it was a bit of both.

I will always remember you like this... filled with passion for life and people, for dancing and for shirts that only YOU could get away with.

 And, of course this one!

There's nothing I can say that hasn't already been said. So, thank you for your unselfish life of courage, for not backing down even when the going got tough, and for demonstrating how to forgive and live graciously.

Thank you.