I had the opportunity to meet Nelson Mandela in 1993. It was a short face-to-face meeting, me being an unimportant smalltown photographer and he being on his way into the history books.  Apartheid was just ending and I was a young, idealistic photographer for the Ladysmith Gazette.

I remember greeting him as he arrived in a convoy. It was a whistle-stop tour, as he was on the campaign trail. From Ladysmith, he headed to Ezakheni where I once again had the opportunity of seeing the great man again, being only an arm’s reach away.

While I was no stranger to the townships in those days, I must admit I had never seen such a large crowd of supporters in my life.

However, even amidst the hullabaloo of the campaign trail, he took time to stop and greet the ordinary people, both white and black.

There was this aura of goodness surrounding him, something even today I can honestly say I have never experienced since. It oozed from him. He had no hatred in him and no anger, just a near divine sense of right and wrong. That meeting 20 years ago is as clear to me now as it was then.

I stood and watched as history walked past me, a moment in time I will never forget.

Hamba Kahle!