Mandela and Me: Why I Have So Little to Say about Him
When Nelson Mandela's death was announced last week, I was struck by how relatively subdued my reaction was. Usually when major celebrities die, I become engrossed in the coverage, watching television, reading my three newspapers, and even checking out Internet sites like huffington post and daily beast. But I just skimmed the newspaper stories about Mandela, reading only the celebrity tributes and checking the timeline to refresh my memory of the major events in his life. While I watched Rachel Maddow's coverage of the story on MSNBC, I switched channels when other commentators continued to cover it.
I just wasn't that interested in Mandela's death. In fact, I was more interested in and disturbed by the death of actor Paul Walker. Although I'm a fan of pop culture, I was not a Paul Walker fan. I've never seen any of the "Fast and Furious" movies and don't remember seeing him in any other movie or television show. I recognized his face when I saw it, but I would not have been able to put that face to the name "Paul Walker." Mandela, on the other hand, was someone whom I admired. I had watched his speeches and interviews and read numerous articles about him. So why was I more affected by the unknown-to-me actor's death than I was by the death of the man declared by many to be the most important leader of the late twentieth century?
Some of the reasons are obvious. Mr. Mandela died at ninety-five after a long illness while Mr. Walker died at forty in a fiery car crash. Mr. Walker's death was sudden and horrifying. Friends and his daughter were nearby, and no one could help. Mr. Mandela's death was expected and even somewhat anticlimactic. He (and we) had endured a weeks-long death watch during the summer when some news media prematurely eulogized him. His death months later in December reminded me of an early "Saturday Night Live" joke about the death of the Spanish dictator Francisco Franco. Like Mandela, Franco had lingered for weeks, so when he finally died, the SNL players started joking about Franco being still dead. The South Africans' reaction to Mandela's death--dancing, singing, laughing--may not have been quite as irreverent, but it had the same spirit.
My lower key reaction had a similar cause, but I suspect there was one other reason for my responding more strongly to the death of the actor than to that of the world leader--geography. Paul Walker died in California, where I have lived most of my adult life. Mr. Mandela died in his homeland, South Africa, where I have never been. As I thought about my response to the black leader's death, I realized that I was more affected by the deaths of two other world leaders, who died in their nineties and after long illnesses--Ronald Reagan and Gerald Ford. I'm no Republican and didn't even like Reagan, but I watched the coverage of his funeral and read all of the newspaper articles about his death; I did the same with Ford. Both men died in California, but more important, they were both not just world leaders, but American Presidents. Mandela was never my President.
Now I'm not one of those xenophobic Americans, who think that only we matter. In fact, I remember heatedly debating George W. Bush's policy of fighting the terrorists in Iraq so that we wouldn't have to fight them here with a Republican student. I couldn't believe that he thought it was okay to invade another country, destroying their homes and killing civilians, including women and children, in order to lure the terrorists to that country so that we could protect our women and children here at home. I wondered if it would be okay for us to invade Sweden or Germany with the same intent. I am, however, a somewhat provincial American. Except for a couple of trips across the border into Mexico, I haven't been out of this country. I'm also near sighted, literally and figuratively. With the exception of a 2010 donation to the Red Cross for the Haiti disaster, my charitable contributions begin and end at home. And although I'm annoyed at our Nobel-Peace Prize winning President for droning foreign countries like a chickenhawk Republican, I'm not signing petitions or calling the White House the way I would be if he were trying to make it harder for Americans to vote like racist Republicans.
So rest in peace, Mr. Nelson Mandela. I am happy that far-sighted people like you have lived among us, looking beyond your prison cell and homeland to make the whole world a better place.
I just wasn't that interested in Mandela's death. In fact, I was more interested in and disturbed by the death of actor Paul Walker. Although I'm a fan of pop culture, I was not a Paul Walker fan. I've never seen any of the "Fast and Furious" movies and don't remember seeing him in any other movie or television show. I recognized his face when I saw it, but I would not have been able to put that face to the name "Paul Walker." Mandela, on the other hand, was someone whom I admired. I had watched his speeches and interviews and read numerous articles about him. So why was I more affected by the unknown-to-me actor's death than I was by the death of the man declared by many to be the most important leader of the late twentieth century?
Some of the reasons are obvious. Mr. Mandela died at ninety-five after a long illness while Mr. Walker died at forty in a fiery car crash. Mr. Walker's death was sudden and horrifying. Friends and his daughter were nearby, and no one could help. Mr. Mandela's death was expected and even somewhat anticlimactic. He (and we) had endured a weeks-long death watch during the summer when some news media prematurely eulogized him. His death months later in December reminded me of an early "Saturday Night Live" joke about the death of the Spanish dictator Francisco Franco. Like Mandela, Franco had lingered for weeks, so when he finally died, the SNL players started joking about Franco being still dead. The South Africans' reaction to Mandela's death--dancing, singing, laughing--may not have been quite as irreverent, but it had the same spirit.
My lower key reaction had a similar cause, but I suspect there was one other reason for my responding more strongly to the death of the actor than to that of the world leader--geography. Paul Walker died in California, where I have lived most of my adult life. Mr. Mandela died in his homeland, South Africa, where I have never been. As I thought about my response to the black leader's death, I realized that I was more affected by the deaths of two other world leaders, who died in their nineties and after long illnesses--Ronald Reagan and Gerald Ford. I'm no Republican and didn't even like Reagan, but I watched the coverage of his funeral and read all of the newspaper articles about his death; I did the same with Ford. Both men died in California, but more important, they were both not just world leaders, but American Presidents. Mandela was never my President.
Now I'm not one of those xenophobic Americans, who think that only we matter. In fact, I remember heatedly debating George W. Bush's policy of fighting the terrorists in Iraq so that we wouldn't have to fight them here with a Republican student. I couldn't believe that he thought it was okay to invade another country, destroying their homes and killing civilians, including women and children, in order to lure the terrorists to that country so that we could protect our women and children here at home. I wondered if it would be okay for us to invade Sweden or Germany with the same intent. I am, however, a somewhat provincial American. Except for a couple of trips across the border into Mexico, I haven't been out of this country. I'm also near sighted, literally and figuratively. With the exception of a 2010 donation to the Red Cross for the Haiti disaster, my charitable contributions begin and end at home. And although I'm annoyed at our Nobel-Peace Prize winning President for droning foreign countries like a chickenhawk Republican, I'm not signing petitions or calling the White House the way I would be if he were trying to make it harder for Americans to vote like racist Republicans.
So rest in peace, Mr. Nelson Mandela. I am happy that far-sighted people like you have lived among us, looking beyond your prison cell and homeland to make the whole world a better place.
No comments have been added yet.
