It was a sunny and beautiful Friday morning
in the Port Elizabeth (South Africa) suburb of Saint Albans. It was a special
national holiday. All South Africans (regardless of race) were going to the
polls to elect a new president for the first time in the 500+ year history of
the country.
I was going through hard times
financially. I had a low-level clerical government job. I did not own a car. I
lived in a humble apartment with two other men. I only had a good diet because
my job was working at a center for military, police, and prison services
personnel. I got to eat in the officer’s mess. The food was quite decent.
Despite my humble circumstances, a
brand-new 3 Series BMW sedan pulled up at my apartment building. A well-dressed
captain in the South African army stepped out of the car. He walked to the door
of my apartment and knocked. When I opened the door, he told me that he had
been sent to take me to the polls to vote. (How I got this VIP treatment will
be the subject of a blog post tomorrow.)
I followed him to the BMW and got in on the
passenger side. There was great fear on this beautiful and sunny day. Major
violence and disruption had been predicted. As we drove through the streets of
Saint Albans, soldiers and police lined the streets. Despite all this tension,
there was a feeling of relaxation, hope, and confidence.
When we arrived at the polling place, the
captain came with me to the place where voters were checked in and given their
ballot. I presented my South African National ID book. The captain vouched for
me with election officials. I was given a two-page paper ballot. It had the
pictures of all candidates by the place to cast one’s vote. This was because so
many of the voters were illiterate and could not read and write.
I went to a polling station. I made my decision
and cast my vote. The captain drove me back to my apartment. Throughout South
Africa that day, there were sporadic and infrequent episodes of violence. No
charges were ever made of election tampering or voter fraud.
A little before midnight, Nelson Mandela was
declared the winner. There was euphoria all over South Africa. Parties were
going on everywhere. (Take my word for it, no one knows how to give a party
like South Africans!) For me the most touching moment of this election euphoria
was when a black woman was being interviewed on The South African Broadcasting
Commission. She said these words: “Finally they will start treating us like
adults and stop treating us like children!”
On that day I was part of an incredible
moment in history that was watched all over the world. I was honored to have
been allowed to vote. I was delighted to see a fair election with little
violence or intimidation. State President FW de Klerk conceded in a most-kind
manner.
I now have the benefit of 25 years to look
back on that day and what followed. Nelson Mandela went on to serve 5 years as
president. He exceeded all my expectations. The two men who came after him as
president were huge disappointments. At the time of the election 25 years ago,
South Africa was the economic power house of the African continent with 40% of
the continent’s gross domestic product. Now South Africa has the number three
economy in Africa with Nigeria being #1 and Egypt being #2.
Some progress has been made to alleviate
the huge disparity in comes and wealth that existed between the 15% white
minority and the 85% majority of color. The unemployment rate is still above
27%. Corruption is rampant. Crime rates are high. The new president, Cyril
Ramaphosa is honest and sincere. He has a hard challenge to overcome.
South Africa has not achieved what I had
hoped for it 25 years ago. But it is not a failed state either.
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