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27 April 1994 was the day for which many had waited, the day for which the struggle against apartheid had been waged – the day which had finally dawned when we could all vote for the first time in a truly democratic election in the land of our birth.
I folded my ballot paper and cast my vote. 'Wow!' I shouted, 'Yippee!' It was giddy stuff, like falling in love. The sky looked more blue and beautiful. I saw the people in a new light. They were beautiful, they were transfigured. I too was transfigured. It was dream-like.
After voting, I went outside and the people were cheering, singing and dancing.
It was like a festival. The atmosphere was wonderful and such a vindication for all those who had borne the burden of repression, the 'little people' whom apartheid had turned into anonymous ones – faceless, voiceless, counting for nothing in their motherland – just because of a biological irrelevance.
It was also an amazing spectacle. People of all races were standing in the same queues, perhaps for the very first time in their lives. Blacks, Indians,
Coloureds, Whites – all were standing in those lines that were snaking their way slowly to the polling booth. And what could have been a disaster turned out to be a blessing in disguise. Those lines produced a new and peculiarly
South African status symbol. Afterwards people boasted, 'I stood for two hours to vote.' – 'No, I waited for four hours!'
And it was those long hours that helped us South Africans from that era to find one another. People shared newspapers, sandwiches, umbrellas, and the scales began to fall from our eyes. South Africans found fellow South Africans.
We had achieved true humanity – a shared, common homeland. Everyone simply wanted a decent home, a good job, a safe environment for their families, good schools for their children …
We all just wanted a place in the
I folded my ballot paper and cast my vote. 'Wow!' I shouted, 'Yippee!' It was giddy stuff, like falling in love. The sky looked more blue and beautiful. I saw the people in a new light. They were beautiful, they were transfigured. I too was transfigured. It was dream-like.
After voting, I went outside and the people were cheering, singing and dancing.
It was like a festival. The atmosphere was wonderful and such a vindication for all those who had borne the burden of repression, the 'little people' whom apartheid had turned into anonymous ones – faceless, voiceless, counting for nothing in their motherland – just because of a biological irrelevance.
It was also an amazing spectacle. People of all races were standing in the same queues, perhaps for the very first time in their lives. Blacks, Indians,
Coloureds, Whites – all were standing in those lines that were snaking their way slowly to the polling booth. And what could have been a disaster turned out to be a blessing in disguise. Those lines produced a new and peculiarly
South African status symbol. Afterwards people boasted, 'I stood for two hours to vote.' – 'No, I waited for four hours!'
And it was those long hours that helped us South Africans from that era to find one another. People shared newspapers, sandwiches, umbrellas, and the scales began to fall from our eyes. South Africans found fellow South Africans.
We had achieved true humanity – a shared, common homeland. Everyone simply wanted a decent home, a good job, a safe environment for their families, good schools for their children …
We all just wanted a place in the