Months earlier, before any news of a memorial service, I had booked a flight for Tuesday, December 10, passing through Johannesburg to Malawi for my work as a photographer – never guessing where that might lead.
I arrived in Johannesburg, jet-lagged and sleep-deprived. I wasn’t sure how I’d actually get to the the service – or even whether I’d be able to get into the stadium once there.
One of my neighbors here in Baja is South African. His sister still lives in Johannesburg. She met me, introduced herself, and said “Leave your luggage with me. You are going to have to take the bus. Good luck!”
So, umbrella in one hand and camera in the other, I joined the crowds – running down the street through the rain, searching for a bus with room for a few more. One bus stopped, opened its doors, and my new African friends pulled me along as we squeezed our way inside.
“This is the spirit of Madiba,” said Tshego, my new friend and impromptu host for the day. “This is what he stood for – the people, becoming more together than we are on our own- Ubuntu. It is our journey to live our lives in a way that keeps his legacy alive.”
As the rain continued to fall, despite being drenched and sleep-deprived from the long journey, there was one word that sang within me – ubuntu.