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I vividly remember the release of Nelson Mandela from prison on 11 February 1990.
At the time, I was working at the construction site of King Fahd International Airport in Dammam, Saudi Arabia. I lived in a compound alongside colleagues from different parts of the world, including a white South African, an Australian, and a German.
Looking back, I recall that the overwhelming majority of Western expatriate workers around me were instinctively opposed to the changes taking place in South Africa and the country’s transition to majority Black African rule. Many openly echoed the views of U.S. President Ronald Reagan and British Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher, both of whom were widely known for their opposition to the African National Congress during much of that period and for describing Mandela in terms associated with terrorism.
I frequently found myself engaged in vigorous debates with my colleagues. On one occasion, the disagreement escalated into a physical altercation with a white Rhodesian. They often insisted that I did not understand what I was advocating for.
To this day, I reject the racist attitudes and beliefs that I challenged all those years ago.
During that period, I became a member of TransAfrica, an influential American organization that campaigned against apartheid and advocated for justice in Southern Africa.
On the Sunday that Nelson Mandela walked out of Victor Verster Prison hand in hand with Winnie Mandela, I stayed awake late into the night to witness that historic moment. It was one of those occasions that transcended politics—a defining moment in modern history.
My own contribution to the anti-apartheid struggle was modest, limited to what I could do as an individual. But I know that the peoples of sub-Saharan Africa collectively did everything within their means to support South Africa’s liberation. Africans paid dearly in both blood and treasure for that cause.
The Frontline States bore enormous sacrifices. They diverted scarce resources, delayed their own development, and endured economic and military pressure in support of the struggle against apartheid. Their commitment helped sustain the movement until freedom finally came.
With time, however, my expectations of Mandela’s presidency changed.
In my view, he distanced himself from some of those who had stood closest to him during the struggle and accepted a political settlement that achieved political freedom without delivering meaningful economic liberation for the Black majority. Even his separation from Winnie Mandela symbolized, to me, a departure from the ideals that had inspired so many across Africa.
As the years passed, I found myself increasingly disappointed.
Today, it is painful to witness outbreaks of xenophobic violence in South Africa, where impoverished Black South Africans sometimes turn their frustrations against fellow Africans from neighbouring countries, accusing them of taking jobs or business opportunities.
What I find especially tragic is that many fail to recognize where the deeper structural problems lie. The enduring inequalities inherited from apartheid continue to shape the country’s economy, while ordinary African migrants operating small shops or seeking honest livelihoods become convenient scapegoats.
Despite my disappointments, I have no regrets about standing up to those who defended apartheid and racial oppression. Challenging racism was the right thing to do then, and it remains the right thing to do today.
Mother Africa is greater than the prejudices that once sought to divide her, and greater than those who continue to spread hatred among her people.
