Me going to see Mandela
As we drove to Soweto, I told my niece how so proud I was of her. During the past few weeks it has been a life changing experience for both of us. We talked about her plans for the future and where she saw herself in the next 3-5 years.
I was impressed with the Art group and was glad that they were as impressed with her and her resume (my niece has two masters degrees). I think she will find herself very quickly while working with this group of people.
As we enter Soweto we saw clearly marked signs to get to Mandela’s house. We were not sure if this was his birth home or what the situation was going to be. This was the home that he and Winnie shared, while raising their family. The home was burned as a way of driving Winnie out of the house and exiled from Soweto.
This was the last home Mandela lived in before going to prison. They fixed up the house and built a brick wall around it to showcase the house more. All around the house were street vendors, along with two restaurants. Winnie owns one of the restaurants. This is what you call a twist of fate. Imagine that, here they had her booted out of Soweto only to capitalize on the fact that she and Mandela lived here.
There are two admission charges to get into the house, one for Africans and one for Internationals. We paid the price of $4.00 & 8.00, since my niece now lives here. A young man who asked us if we would like a guided tour (he said it was free, but he would accept donations) met us. This young man, who was attending a community college, was very knowledgeable.
I was all too eager to learned more interesting facts about Mandela’s home life. Before we entered the home he pointed out the bullet holes in front of the house. There was an elderly lady sitting under a tree – the same tree that Winnie had the umbilical cords of her three kids buried. She told endless stories about what it was like to live on the same street with the Mandela’s. She said the police were always harassing and threating them before, during, and after he was imprisoned.
The house is small, consisting of two bedrooms, a living room, small kitchen (it was only a stove) and a bathroom. The house contained some of the original furniture from Winnie and Mandela. There were tons of photos from his life’s work around the world.
This family suffered many devastating things; his oldest son never visited Mandela while he was in prison. That same son died of HIV. His oldest daughter’s child was killed during an uprising, and his mother also died while he was in prison.
We enjoyed hearing the history and found out that Mandela’s third wife made the Guinness Book of World Records because she married two Presidents. Also in the Guinness is the fact that two Noble Peace Winners, Mandela and Bishop Tutu, lived two streets away from each other, coming from the same neighborhood.
While in the house we read some of his many awards, and at the same time my niece and I discovered our home states. He was given a citation from the Pennsylvania House of Representatives, and one from Central State in Ohio.
Inside one of the many glass enclosed exhibits was a bowel and a bag of money. The people visiting the home would write messages to the family in their country’s currency, and yes, the dollar was represented. The proceeds from the admission were going to the Soweto Heritage who Winnie gave property to. This was after they had said she could come back to Soweto. This was yet another moving experience; you couldn’t help to have the feeling of agony of defeat, and the thrill of victory.
When we left the house we saw this old man who asked us if we wanted to see a human pretzel. He produced this 3 year-old boy who proceeded to twist and turn himself into a pretzel. It was sad and entertaining at the same time. He was just a baby and had to perform these tricks, some of which looked painful, to get money for his family.
I still had some T-shirts left, and on our drive out of the neighborhood, we saw a group of kids playing. I got out of the car and gave two Lemoyne Center T-shirts, a Washington City baseball cap from the mayor’s office, and a Unity in the Community T-shirt (that I felt was befitting the occasion), and lastly my Let’s Go Pens Terrible Towel. These kids were very excited and the others who I didn’t have anything to give were sad… opps… I wished I had more to give…
My next blog will be my last one. It will talk about how some of our everyday words are different to us.
OH YEAH I ALMOST FORGOT – TUNE IN NEXT TIME TO HEAR ABOUT HOW I ALMOST ENDED UP IN JAIL IN AFRICA!!!
Stay blessed, because I know I am.