- Posted December 10, 2013 by
This iReport is part of an assignment:
Nelson Mandela: Your memories
Hamba Khale, my Madiba
I am from Pakistan and I have lived and loved Madiba, from the day I learnt who he was. The truth of the matter is, this very year, I was trying to write a letter to him... before he started feeling unwell. I was trying to write to him and making arrangements to go see him.
Would he see me, would he have time/health, to meet this person, from Pakistan? Honestly, that didn't matter. What mattered was, that I had to try and reach him, in any way possible.
Now that he is gone, I am filled with an emptiness. I know its oxymoronic, to be 'filled' with emptiness... but that is how I feel. Were I to ever meet him, I would tell him, how much he means to me. And that I love him... and I love everything he has done and everything he was.
I openheartedly envy the people of South Africa...because one such as him, lived among them... and they were aware, that his very existence... was the proof of sanctity of spirit.
Mandela isn't dead. He has merely moved to the next step. As has always been his nature... to overcome insurmountable odds... and then move ahead. He is a soul, a spirit... and by passing on, he has expanded, he has grown, to engulf the world in his own embrace. I feel his love, his strength and his purity, inside me.
And for that reason... I feel I know him now, even more than before. He has become part of me and he lives within me. And it is my solemn vow, to try my best to emulate who he was and what he did... in every action. I carry him in my heart.
Hamba Khale, Madiba.