The Story

It happened in 1996 during my time as fitness trainer South African Cricket team management, I first got to meet Nelson. I had planned to ask him two questions. But when the moment arrived and he moved into my space, I became enveloped by an indescribable presence and a powerful stillness overcame me. Video footage showed that we spoke for a brief few moments—but to this day, I have no recollection of the experience, and I have no idea what he said to me or what I said to him. I don’t think I asked my planned questions.?

The team then posed for a photo with Madiba, with him still in the colourful outfit he was wearing when he attended the Cape Carnival earlier in the day. This was the treasured photo, developed from film, that Mandela himself was to nearly ruin.?

A year later, we got to meet him again at the Newlands Cricket Ground before playing an international match. This time, I had a question I would not forget to ask. I wanted him to sign the treasured photo from our last meeting. Because he was on a tight schedule, he told his security officer, Rory Steyn, to have me meet him at his presidential car on his way out of the stadium. I waited, equipped with my photo, a pen, and excitement.?

As it happened, he was ushered hastily past me and into his car. They were about to pull away when he saw me and beckoned the driver to stop. He opened the car door and invited me to sit next to him. When he began to sign, the inkless nib only managed to scratch the photograph. It was one of those gold-ink pens that need pressure on the nib for it to retract into the pen, which then causes ink to be released from the cartridge. I mentioned he should put pressure on the nib, which he did, resulting in the whole cartridge of ink splattering all over the photo. Damn! I should have tested the pen. Damn! My photo was ruined.?

Without a moment’s thought, the president of our country immediately wiped the photo clean with his trademark Madiba shirtsleeve. He wiped it before the ink could dry, cleaning the photo and ruining his shirt with a permanent ink stain.?

I thought, ‘Oh no, his shirt is ruined.’ He said, ‘Thank goodness, your photo is not ruined!’ He asked for another pen, signed, and apologised for nearly ruining my photo. It was just us in his car, the president of a country and a lowly fitness trainer, in private and with no cameras to look good for. In those few moments, I knew why Nelson Mandela will be remembered as one of the greatest men to have walked our planet.?