To truly understand the value of our democracy, I embarked on a journey - not through textbooks or political analyses, but through the raw, unfiltered memories of those who lived, fought, and bled for it. I immersed myself in the memoirs of South Africa’s freedom fighters, both sung and unsung, and what I found was not just history, but an attestation to the extraordinary lengths human beings will go for the sake of justice and dignity.
As I turned the pages, I was no longer a reader; I was a witness. I stood in the cold, damp cells of Robben Island, where the icy winter air cut through the thin fabric of skimpy prison uniforms. I felt the hunger that gnawed at their stomachs, the kind that makes you forget what a full meal tastes like.
I winced at the crack of batons against flesh and bones, the screams muffled by the walls of interrogation rooms, and the silent tears of those who endured torture not for themselves, but for a cause greater than their own survival.
In Tata Nelson Mandela’s Long Walk to Freedom, I walked alongside him as he described the backbreaking labor in limestone quarries, the blinding sun reflecting off the white rock, and the way his hands bled and calloused, yet his spirit remained unbroken.
In Dr Ahmed Kathrada’s Memoirs, I sat with him in his tiny cell, tracing the cracks in the walls as he recounted the loneliness of decades in isolation, sustained only by the hope of a free South Africa.
In Ruth First’s 117 Days, I felt the weight of her interrogation, the psychological torment designed to break her, and her unwavering resolve to protect her comrades. I heard the resilience in the voice of Steven Biko who refused to be silenced, even as his body was broken by the brutality of the apartheid security forces.
But it was also in the stories of the unsung heroes that I felt the deepest ache. The mothers who buried their children, the students who disappeared without a trace, and the ordinary men and women who stood up to the apartheid regime knowing they might never see the fruits of their sacrifice. What struck me most was that one would endure all this suffering, not just for themselves or their families, but the love - the profound, unshakable love for human rights and our nation. They had no guarantee of success, no promise of a better tomorrow.
They went in knowing they might never return, yet they marched forward, driven by a single, extraordinary cause: that every human being, regardless of race, could live free and without fear. This is the legacy of our freedom struggle. It is not just a story of pain and resistance, but a story of love - a love so deep that it could endure the harshest winters, the cruelest blows, and the darkest nights.
It is a love that whispers to us today, reminding us of the price that was paid for our freedom and the responsibility we carry to protect it. In the heart of the Ramayana, a verse echoes through time, carrying the weight of a dynasty’s honor: "It has always been the tradition of the Raghu dynasty to uphold their promise, even if it costs them their life, but their word is never broken.""रघुकुल रीत सदा चलि आई, प्राण जाहिं पर वचन न जाई।
"This is not just a line from an ancient epic; it is a manifesto of integrity, a clarion call to stand firm in the face of adversity, and a reminder that some values are worth sacrificing everything for. As we celebrate Human Rights Month in South Africa, this verse resonates deeply. It reminds us that the fight for human rights is not just about laws or policies, it is about the promise of dignity, equality, and freedom that we owe to one another as human beings.
It is a promise that, like Lord Rama’s vow, must never be broken, no matter the cost. South Africa’s journey to democracy was paved with sacrifices. The heroes of the anti-apartheid movement - Tata Nelson Mandela, Albertina Sisulu, Steve Biko, Billy Nair, Oliver Tambo and countless others - embodied the spirit of "prana jahin par vachan na jayi."
They gave their lives, their freedom, and their comfort to uphold the promise of a nation where all people, regardless of race, could live with dignity and equality. Tata Mandela’s 27 years in prison were not just a personal sacrifice; they were a testament to his unwavering commitment to the promise of freedom.
Like Lord Raghunath, who chose exile over breaking his father’s word, Tata Mandela chose imprisonment over compromising his principles. His life reminds us that the fight for human rights is not a fleeting struggle but a lifelong commitment.
In the life of Sri Ramakrishna Paramahamsa, we find a luminous example of this unwavering dedication to truth and justice. A spiritual giant, Sri Ramakrishna’s life was a validation to the power of integrity and universal love. In the Ramakrishna Kathamrita (The Gospel of Sri Ramakrishna) Sri Thakur said: Truth is not just speaking honestly; it is living honestly.
It is seeing the divine in every being and treating them as your own. Sri Ramakrishnas devotion to truth was visceral and all-encompassing. The Master wept for the suffering of others and prayed for their liberation, transcending barriers of race, class, gender, and religion. Sri Ramakrishna’s vision of the divine in every face jolts us to action. It reminds us that the fight for human rights is not just a political or social struggle; it is a spiritual imperative.
Leaders around the world - not just in South Africa - must rise above divisions and see humanity as one family. They must embody the spirit of Lord Rama, who upheld his word even at the cost of his throne, and the spirit of Sri Ramakrishna, who saw the divine in every soul. For in that promise of the unbroken word lies the hope of a brighter, more just world. Can we be the keepers of that promise and be the light that guides humanity forward.
Wishing you all a reflective and contemplative Human Rights Month.
Yogan Naidoo is a Graduate of International Relations (LSE), and activist for peace and harmony through spirituality.
** The views expressed do not necessarily reflect the views of IOL or Independent Media.