Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: WEDNESDAY, May 11, 1994 TAG: 9405110118
SECTION: NATIONAL/INTERNATIONAL PAGE: A-1 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: Boston Globe
DATELINE: PRETORIA, SOUTH AFRICA LENGTH: Medium
The lanky son of a Thembu chief placed his hand firmly on the Bible on Tuesday and began the oath the world has waited to hear. The strength of his voice suggested compassion and fury, sadness and fear and regret. Nelson Mandela had shed the skin of prisoner for the mantle of president - and he brought to the office the ideals of a savior, the frailties of a man.
Everyone at this historic inauguration wanted to taste the moment. Soweto mothers made butter sandwiches for their children and found a cool place on the lawn, far from the chaos of souvenir hawkers but close enough to see the massive screen that mirrored the festivities for thousands who yearned to be close. Those with the lungs and the credentials to climb the many stone stairs found notables clustered in privileged circles on and around the stage - foreign dignitaries in unaccustomed African wrap, movie stars, religious leaders, even poets.
Celebrities such as Danny Glover, Maya Angelou, Camille Cosby, Quincy Jones and Coretta Scott King dotted the crowd, as well as those whose political achievements made them household murmurs, if not actual words: Al Gore, Hillary Rodham Clinton, Jesse Jackson - along with Yasser Arafat, Fidel Castro, Ezer Weizman. All had come to witness the birth of a country fresh and challenged and vital. They found what they came for.
Tuesday, the new South Africa was out in force. While the stone stairs separated those who could breathe in the aura of power from those who turned to it for help, economic and racial divisions were forgotten in honor of the day. Blacks and whites embraced, and there was much spontaneous singing and kicking up of heels. The tone was melting pot, the word was ``hope,'' and the man was Mandela.
Then he spoke. He spoke the intimate connection each South African had to the South African soil, ripping away the official pronouncements, getting back to the one-on-one. He stressed the importance of recognizing the land as one's own. Natives leaned forward as they took to the challenge; the children of Soweto finished their butter sandwiches and tried to understand why their mothers cried.
It was hard to believe it was happening. Onstage, the proceedings were necessarily official, but there was a bubbling in the air, a raw feel, a delicious unpredictability. Finally, South Africa was breaking out of its shell, shedding its racist overcoat. At least for the day, it was the country it can be.
``Never, never and never again,'' said Mandela, as he officially buried the scourge of apartheid. ``Apartheid is now dead,'' many said later. ``It is now illegal.'' A spirited hallelujah, adorned in many languages, greeted the declaration.
``Love is possible,'' said Elsa Selepe, 43, dancing alone next to a tower of stereo speakers. ``Love is always possible, but so many of us have forgotten that. It will be hard for some people to let love into their lives again.''
On the day that the son of the Thembu chief laid his hand solidly upon a Bible, love was more than possible. It was what drove the day, what made a white stranger and a black stranger stop to pull each other within the circle of arms. It is what made the singing break out without warning; it is the spark for the beautiful moaning and the low wistful melodies. It is what signaled the end of a country obsessed with hatred and the birth of a country obsessed with harmony.
All day, the people kept their eyes trained on the heavens. And there was just no way to stop the singing.
by CNB