The "D" is Silent: Madiba! - Oh, How The Caged Bird Sang!

Nelson "Madiba" Mandela - "South Africa's Greatest Son"
1918-2013

The great Maya Angelou penned her autobiographical novel, "I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings," telling the world how a young, black girl growing up "imprisoned" by racial oppression, sexual degradation, extreme poverty, and low self-esteem can emerge from that "cage" to sing a song of victory.

The photo above shows Mandela emerging from a South African prison after 27 years...18 years spent in solitary confinement on the dreaded Robben Island. Mandela entered that South African prison as a struggling soloist, but he continued to stretch his vocal chords. In February 1990, he emerged as a virtuoso accompanied by a world chorus...and, oh how the "caged bird" sang.

Martin and Medgar were jailed; Malcolm and Steven Biko were imprisoned...yet, each emerged with a song in his heart. The aforementioned were all assassinated in the prime of their lives. But, after imprisonment, banishment, and being branded a terrorist by President Reagan and the United States government, Mandela lived long enough to comb grey hair...and became South Africa's first Black President.

I cannot fathom the sacrifice Mandela made to end the racist system of apartheid (apartness) in his country and change the consciousness of the world. But, the following excerpts give us a glimpse into the pain of being deprived the company of wife and family.

My dearest Winnie,

I have been fairly successful in putting on a mask behind which I have pined for the family, alone, never rushing for the post when it comes until somebody calls out my name. I also never linger after visits although sometimes the urge to do so becomes quite terrible. I am struggling to suppress my emotions as I write this letter.

I have received only one letter since you were detained, that one dated August 22. I do not know anything about family affairs, such as payment of rent, telephone bills, care of children and their expenses, whether you will get a job when released. As long as I don't hear from you, I will remain worried and dry like a desert.

I recall the Karoo I crossed on several occasions. I saw the desert again in Botswana on my way to and from Africa--endless pits of sand and not a drop of water. I have not had a letter from you. I feel dry like a desert.

Letters from you and the family are like the arrival of summer rains and spring that liven my life and make it enjoyable.

Whenever I write you, I feel that inside physical warmth, that makes me forget all my problems. I become full of love.

My dearest Winnie,

Our daughters raised in hardship are grown women today. The first born has her own house and is raising her family.

We couldn't fulfill our wishes, as we had planned, to have a baby boy. I had hoped to build you a refuge, no matter how small, so that we would have a place for rest and sustenance before the arrival of the sad, dry days. I fell down and couldn't do these things. I am as one building castles in the air.

My dearest Winnie,

You looked really wonderful on 17/11, very much like the woman I married. There was color in your face. Gone was the choleric appearance and glazed look in your eyes when you are under pressure of over-dieting. As usual, I kept addressing you as Mum but my body kept telling me that a woman is sitting across this platform. I felt like singing, even if just to say Hallelujah!

Reading these excerpts are both heartbreaking and heartening. Heartbreaking because of the dire straits he was forced to endure, but heartening because he prevailed against the odds. Mandela was Washington, Jefferson, Lincoln, and MLK rolled into one. South Africans call him "Madiba." To the world, he was a Lion whose song became a roar!!

The Lion sleeps tonight, but his ROAR will echo for all time!!