Invictus…
This a movie about a special part of Nelson Mandela’s presidency in
South Africa. And so is called the poem that inspired Mandela during his time in prison. The poem is written by the English poet William Ernest Henley.
I cried through most of the movie. It is not a sad movie, it is an emotional one. Halfway through it I realised I was actually crying about my own country and not South Africa.
That film made me remember part of our history, how we were once united by a national sport. It was the year 1994 and our national soccer team was at the World Cup in the USA. And we placed fourth then, we did not even win. But I remember how people were back then. Going out on the streets, chanting, hugging and kissing each other. No matter what nationality, no matter what skin colour, rich and poor, kids and grown-ups — we were all one. Ten years after that those men were still our heroes. Our closeness and love though faded pretty quickly. Several months after the Championship we did not remember what we used to like in each other and now we are divided. We are such a small country, we are poor and weak in comparison to so many other European states, but we manage to find things to hate each other about.
Yes, I cried for my country because we do not have a man like Mandela with a great mind and a big heart who would not sleep in order to think how to unite us.
I miss those times. I was young then, just a little girl, bur I remember the people. Their joy, their smiling faces. It did not matter who you are, it did not matter what town you are from, it did not matter how much money your family has, whether you lived on the street or in a palace. We were all one.
Only if we could find something else like the soccer back then, to cleanse us, wash away our differences, make us forget our quarrels and the little things that separate us every day, only if we could sing and dance on the streets together again. That would be wonderful…
I do not claim that we had ever had here something even remotely like the apartheid in South Africa. But at present there are things that trouble me — too much aggression towards minorities, way too much; too much official statements which are neither human nor right in any way; too much political backing for nationalistic and racist ideas.
I do not want to hate nobody, I do not want to hurt nobody and I do not want to believe there are people in my small country (it is really so small — a little over 7 million) that want to harm or hate someone because he or she is a member of a minority.
Back in 1994, it did not matter if you were minority, we were all a the majority, the majority that wanted our team to win. To win at any cost. It was more than a game for us, it was not just about the soccer, it was about us making the world look our way and know there is a small country in Europe with a great soccer team. It was like we believed in a greater idea, all of us together and forgot any hate and regret. We loved each other, we believed we are strong and all the ugliness just disappeared. But that was just for a short while. Now it is back and it is uglier than I ever remember it.
Only if we could find something else or some great man with a gentle heart and a great mind to lead us, maybe it would be different…
I cried and now when my tears are almost dried I do realise it is more complicated than just wishing it. But anyway I am happy for South Africa. At least they had the courage to leave apartheid behind and struggle to be united and they had the great Nelson Mandela as a leader. I wish I would have met him, I wish I would have learned more about him. I think we need more men like him 
There is a line in the movie that plays over and over in my mind : “I was thinking about that you spend 30 years in a tiny cell and come out ready to forgive the people that put you there.” (The captain of the rugby team speaks to his girlfriend about Mandela).
And here is the text of the poem “Invictus”:
Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds and shall find me unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.
