This morning, while going through my early-in-the-day routine of getting dressed, eating breakfast, wishing I could sleep for just five more minutes I caught a snippet of the news on one of our lovely country’s SABC channels.
The camera showed a group of about fifty people gathered at the Nelson Mandela Capture Site. I was like *blink blink*.
Up until today I had no idea there even existed such a place and according to google there’s even a monument set up at the site. Sorry, what?
I know it’s probably not the biggest deal in the world but it made me think about and realise the fact that I know very little about my country, it’s true history and the rustic, intimate, old school, new school monuments around our land. And now suddenly I have this incessant and inexplicable desire to go and see this Capture site.
I haven’t the foggiest idea why…Patriotism maybe? Never thought I had it in me.
Don’t get me wrong, I love my country and know and respect that we have a colourful, temperamental and touchy past, but I think until quite recently my patriotism was reserved not really for my forefathers (and mothers and aunts and uncles and sisters and, well you get the picture), but rather for my age group, my generation. Now I’m realising in my own way and on my own terms that my history, our history, is not only interesting and important. It’s imperative for our healing.
Just a random thought meander I thought I might share with you.
Happy Thursday everyone!