You don’t have to guess, it’s me. I’m
not even exaggerating; my left hand fingertips are nervy, currently blueish and were swollen red for awhile there with zero sensation and a temporary loss of complete motor control. And because my hands are very important to me, I’m not going back out to sell flowers for the equivalent of $3/hour again.
So, I need a job again. Non-profit blows. I had gloves on, for the record.
Sometimes I get on a bus and debate staying on it until somebody kicks me off.
Well, try hard as you like, and you’ll fail. Because Mandela was about politics and he was about race and he was about freedom and he was even about force, and he did what he felt he had to do and given the current economic inequality in South Africa he might even have died thinking he didn’t do nearly enough of it. And perhaps the greatest tragedy of Mandela’s life isn’t that he spent almost thirty years jailed by well-heeled racists who tried to shatter millions of spirits through breaking his soul, but that there weren’t or aren’t nearly enough people like him.