Last Friday evening a crowd of about 300 people huddled together in the frigid air outside the Vancouver Art Gallery for a candle-lit vigil in honour of Nelson Mandela.
For me, and for the other South Africans living in Vancouver, the event was a chance to come together in solidarity with our countrymen and women on the other side of the world.
I was born in South Africa in 1988, during the final years of apartheid. I was too young to remember all the tension in the country at the time, but I remember all the stories my parents told me — about schools, churches and parks having “whites only” signs.
When Mandela became president in 1994 there was enough talk and excitement in the air that even at my young age I was aware of this man who, after 27 years in prison, had gone on to become the first black president of South Africa. When I started Grade 1 the following year there were black students in my class. There were only a few at the time, but this was something that would’ve been unheard of just a few years before.
The Mandela vigil last week was a chance for me and for others to reflect on this amazing man who, despite his hardships, held no resentment and instead worked tirelessly to reconcile and bring together all the peoples of South Africa.
There was a mixture of both sadness and joy in the cold air as the crowd listened to speeches from various African-Canadian cultural groups as well as from Mayor Gregor Robertson.
After the talks the crowd erupted in chanting “MAN-DE-LA, MAN-DE-LA,” punctuated with shouts of “Madiba!” (Mandela’s clan name). Candles were laid down on the stairs in front of the art gallery, and those remaining in the crowd mingled with each other. Sadness gave way to celebration as people broke out into dance.
After dancing, Angelique Kendall, a South African studying at the University of B.C., sat down on the steps of the art gallery with tears streaming down her face.
She told me she felt isolated in her grief when she first heard of Mandela’s death.
“It’s always hard being far away when profound moments in history happen in your country. You feel so far away. You want to be a part of something, you want to be a part of the solidarity of people coming together and feeling this thing that was common to you all.”
Kendall said she was 14 when Mandela became president, and remembers the violence and tension in the country leading up to the end of apartheid, as well as the changes that followed.
“I remember the first day we had a black person in our school,” she said. “Everybody wanted to be their friend.”
Kendall said a fellow South African informed her of Mandela’s passing last Thursday and she burst into tears immediately. “I was really overcome. It was just this profound sense of sadness and sorrow and loss,” she told me.
She said she was glad to be able to come to the vigil and express herself among others also expressing their grief.
“That’s the most important thing, an opportunity to acknowledge en masse that this thing has happened and it’s touched us all.”
In life Mandela was devoted to bringing people together. His death has done the same.
The Robert Lee YMCA at 955 Burrard St. is inviting community members to pay their respects by signing a memorial book in Mandela’s honour during the period leading up to the state funeral.
These memorial books from YMCAs across Canada will be presented to the Mandela family. Mandela will be laid to rest at his ancestral village of Qunu, in the Eastern Cape, on Sunday, Dec. 15.
Gavin Fisher is a Langara College journalism student interning with the Vancouver Courier.
info@gavinfisher.ca
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