本想写篇短文献给我的玛迪巴，但想说的奥巴马都讲了，把它翻译出来做个纪念。正如如奥巴马所说，He makes me want to be a better man...
奥巴马总统在南非前总统纳尔逊曼德拉追悼会上的致词
南非约翰内斯堡第一国家银行体育馆
谢谢，谢谢大家。尊敬的格丽卡（曼德拉遗孀）和曼德拉的亲属，祖瑪总统和南非政府成员，各国元首和各位贵宾，我十分荣幸能在此和您们共同追忆一位伟人。
感谢南非及世界各国人民和我共同分享对纳尔逊曼德拉的记忆。他的斗争就是你们的斗争，他的胜利也是你们的胜利。为你们的尊严和希望，他奉献了自己一生。你们享受的自由和民主，是他留下的传奇。
语言能记录我们经历的事件和时间，但难以讲述人生的欢欣和哀伤，更难描绘生命中的启迪和安详。对这位将一个国家推向公义，并激励全人类奋进的伟人，我们又该如何追诉呢？
一次世界大战期间，他出生在远离权力的乡村。一位由部落长老启蒙的牧童，竟成长为20世纪最伟大的解放者。
和甘地一样，他领导了一场看起来全无希望的抗争。和马丁路德金博士一样，他向种族歧视的谬论发出了强有力的挑战。他的监狱生涯从肯尼迪和赫罗晓夫时代持续到冷战结束。跨出牢笼的他，却和林肯一样，拯救了一个即将分崩离析的国家。
和美利坚合众国的奠基人一样，他不仅用宪法奠定了民主，自由和法制的基石，而且用自身的激流勇退，为后人树立了光辉的榜样。
面对他成就和人民对他的敬仰，很难不把他想象成一幅俯视众生，慈祥微笑的圣像。但曼德拉不是一幅毫无生气的肖像，他乐于和我们分享他的疑虑和怯懦，他在胜利中的失误。“我不是一个圣人”他说“除非你认为圣人就是那些努力改进自身的罪人。”
我们对他的敬爱在于他虽然肩负重担，依然坦承过失，充满幽默，有时还顽皮不逊。他不是一尊大理石雕塑，而是一位有血有肉的人子，人夫，人父和挚友。正是这样，我们才能从他身上感悟真知。他的所得全非天赐，在他的人生之旅中充满了奋进，坚韧和信念的力量。他的故事告诉人们，超越自我的传奇不只停留在史书中，更演绎在你我身边。
曼德拉的故事揭示了行动的力量，指引我们为理想而献身。也许他确实继承了他父亲“骄傲的反叛精神和顽固的公平意识。”和千千万万南非黑人和有色人种一样，他历尽“千般羞辱，万种不平。。。渴望推翻这奴役我人民的制度。“
和其他非国大的前辈，如西西鲁和坦布斯一样，玛迪巴克制着自己的愤怒，引导着自己的渴望，建立了有效的斗争组织和策略，人们得以之为器，为自己天赋的尊严而战。他深知自己行动的后果和抗争的代价“我为推翻白人统治而战，我也为避免黑人专制而战。我要将民主自由的精神，和谐平等的理念刻入人心。这些是我生存的目标。如果需要为之付出生命的代价，亦不足惜。”
曼德拉不仅为我们展示了行动的力量，也明示了理想的力量，辩论和说服的重要性，以及不仅要研究盟友，更须了解对手的智慧。他深知牢狱高墙无法禁锢思想，无情的子弹也不能熄灭自由之光。依靠自己的激情和魅力，借助丰富的宣传经验，他将政府的法庭变成了对种族隔离制度控诉的会场。他利用漫漫牢狱生涯完善自己的理论，也将自己对知识的渴求传播给了狱友。他甚至学会了压迫者的语言和风俗，以便有朝一日更好地说服他们”你们的自由和我的是紧紧相连的。“
曼德拉还揭示了仅有行动和理想是不够的。不管这些想法多么正确，它们必须基于法制的框架。他利用社会现实和历史校正自己的行动。但在原则问题上他却绝无妥协，他回绝了白人政府对自己无条件释放的提案“犯人是无权签订合约的。”
但在权力移交和筹划新法律的艰苦谈判中，为了实现一个更大的目标，他是不惧折衷的。他展示了自己不仅是一位革命斗士，也是一位成熟的政治家。因此他才能创立一部多种族民主宪法，保障了南非各族民众的自由权利。
最后，他深深理解凝聚人心的理念。在南非有一个妇孺皆知的词-UBUNTU。它揭示了曼德拉的宝贵品德：他理解人群中有一个看不见的纽带凝聚着我们，那就是只有通过分享与关爱才能实现自己。
我们不能设想他如何能在牢狱的高墙下修炼出这种美德。但我们将永远铭记他的点点滴滴- 邀请看管他的狱卒作为贵宾参加他的总统就职典礼，身著南非橄榄球队制服出现在球场，把自己至亲的不幸变成对爱滋病对抗的宣言。这些细微之处无不展示着对他人的同情和理解。他不仅履行着UBUNTU，更指引着芸芸众生发现了真我。
曼德拉不仅解放了囚犯，还释放了狱卒。他告知我们只有信他才能被信。他教育了我们和解不是失忆，而是用包容和宽恕来直面罪行。他改变了法律，更改变了人心。
对南非和世界各地被他的事迹激励的人们，玛迪巴的去世带给我们无限的哀伤，但同时也给于我们追思这样一个英勇生命的契机。我认为这也是自我反思的时刻。无论我们个人的情况如何，大家都应坦率地扪心自问“我该如何运用曼德拉的理念？”作为一个个人，也作为一位总统，我对自己提出这个问题，
我们知道，南非和美国历经几个世纪的抗争才取得了对抗种族歧视的胜利。由于无数仁人志士的牺牲才使我们看到了曙光。我和咪萧迩都是这场斗争的收益者。但在南非，在美国，在世界各国，我们不能因为局部的成功就满足不前。
我们面临的斗争也许不如前人面对的那样黑白分明并充满戏剧性，但它同样事管重大。俯瞰当今世界，还有无数儿童处身饥寒交迫之中，破旧不堪的校舍四处可见，千万青年仍在无望地挣扎。许多人因为政治和宗教信仰而饱受迫害，甚至没有选择爱的权利，这些苦难正发生在我们的周围。
因此，我们必须以公理和和平之名而行动。许多人能够接受玛迪巴的民族和解思想，但却对改善贫困和不平等的细小变革充满抵触。在政治舞台上，有太多的演员声称紧随玛迪巴的自由之旗，但从不容忍持不同政见的族人。当这世界急需嘹亮正义之声时，却有太多的利己和悲观主义者正舒适地袖手旁观。
我们今天面对着这样一些挑战，如推行平等和公正，维护自由和人权，制止战争。这些问题是没有简单答案的。但那个生于一次大战的孩子面对的问题也是如此的。纳尔逊曼德拉揭示这样一个真理，直到曙光来临之前，胜利的前景看起来总是遥遥无期的。南非为世界讲述了这样的故事。它告诉我们可以选择基于共同的理想，而非不同的理念，来分享同一个世界。我们可以选择一个充满和平，公理，机遇，而不是由冲突来控制的世界。
我们也许再也看不到如纳尔逊曼德拉一般的巨人了，但我要对南非和世界各个角落的青年说，你也可以在自己的身上延续他的传奇。30年前，还是一个学生的我听到了纳尔逊曼德拉在这片美丽的土地上抗争的故事。这故事打破了我心中的平静，它唤醒了我对自己和他人的责任心，把我送上了一个难以置信的征程，至致今日我可以站在你们的面前。虽然离玛迪巴的标准还很远，但他激励着我做一个好人。他告诉我们人人身上都能有奇迹发生。
当我们送别伟人，返回自己的城市和乡村，重新融入日常的生活中，请不要忘记继续寻找伟人的力量，让我们在心灵深处寻找自己的曼德拉。当寒夜深沉时，在公理无望处，当希望看似无望之际，让我们重温陪伴玛迪巴渡过漫漫牢期的诗句“牢门百尺尤见日，枷锁千斤难箍心，吾乃我命之领主，我是吾魂之护神”。
这是怎样一个雄美的灵魂啊。我们会永远思念你。愿主永护纳尔逊曼德拉的精神，愿主眷顾南非人民。
REMARKS BY PRESIDENT OBAMA
AT MEMORIAL SERVICE FOR FORMER SOUTH AFRICAN
PRESIDENT NELSON MANDELA
First National Bank Stadium
Johanne*****urg, South Africa
1:31 P.M. SAST
PRESIDENT OBAMA:
Thank you. Thank you so much. Thank you.
To Graça Machel and the Mandela family; to President Zuma and members of the government; to heads of states and government, past and present; distinguished guests -- it is a singular honor to be with you today, to celebrate a life like no other.
To the people of South Africa people of every race and walk of life the world thanks you for sharing Nelson Mandela with us. His struggle was your struggle. His triumph was your triumph. Your dignity and your hope found expression in his life. And your freedom, your democracy is his cherished legacy.
It is hard to eulogize any man to capture in words not just the facts and the dates that make a life, but the essential truth of a person their private joys and sorrows; the quiet moments and unique qualities that illuminate someone’s soul. How much harder to do so for a giant of history, who moved a nation toward justice, and in the process moved billions around the world.
Born during World War I, far from the corridors of power, a boy raised herding cattle and tutored by the elders of his Thembu tribe, Madiba would emerge as the last great liberator of the 20th century.
Like Gandhi, he would lead a resistance movement a movement that at its start had little prospect for success. Like Dr. King, he would give potent voice to the claims of the oppressed and the moral necessity of racial justice. He would endure a brutal imprisonment that began in the time of Kennedy and Khrushchev, and reached the final days of the Cold War. Emerging from prison, without the force of arms, he would like Abraham Lincoln hold his country together when it threatened to break apart.
And like America’s Founding Fathers, he would erect a constitutional order to preserve freedom for future generations a commitment to democracy and rule of law ratified not only by his election, but by his willingness to step down from power after only one term.
Given the sweep of his life, the scope of his accomplishments, the adoration that he so rightly earned, it’s tempting I think to remember Nelson Mandela as an icon, smiling and serene, detached from the tawdry affairs of lesser men. But Madiba himself strongly resisted such a lifeless portrait. Instead, Madiba insisted on sharing with us his doubts and his fears; his miscalculations along with his victories. “I am not a saint,” he said, “unless you think of a saint as a sinner who keeps on trying.”
It was precisely because he could admit to imperfection – because he could be so full of good humor, even mischief, despite the heavy burdens he carried that we loved him so. He was not a bust made of marble; he was a man of flesh and blood a son and a hu*****and, a father and a friend. And that’s why we learned so much from him, and that’s why we can learn from him still.
For nothing he achieved was inevitable. In the arc of his life, we see a man who earned his place in history through struggle and shrewdness, and persistence and faith. He tells us what is possible not just in the pages of history books, but in our own lives as well.
Mandela showed us the power of action; of taking risks on behalf of our ideals. Perhaps Madiba was right that he inherited, “a proud rebelliousness, a stubborn sense of fairness” from his father. And we know he shared with millions of black and colored South Africans the anger born of, “a thousand slights, a thousand indignities, a thousand unremembered moments…a desire to fight the system that imprisoned my people,” he said.
But like other early giants of the ANC -- the Sisulus and Tambos Madiba disciplined his anger and channeled his desire to fight into organization, and platforms, and strategies for action, so men and women could stand up for their God-given dignity. Moreover, he accepted the consequences of his actions, knowing that standing up to powerful interests and injustice carries a price. “I have fought against white domination and I have fought against black domination. I ’ve cherished the ideal of a democratic and free society in which all persons live together in harmony and [with] equal opportunities. It is an ideal which I hope to live for and to achieve. But if needs be, it is an ideal for which I am prepared to die.”
Mandela taught us the power of action, but he also taught us the power of ideas; the importance of reason and arguments; the need to study not only those who you agree with, but also those who you don’t agree with. He understood that ideas cannot be contained by prison walls, or extinguished by a sniper’s bullet. He turned his trial into an indictment of apartheid because of his eloquence and his passion, but also because of his training as an advocate. He used decades in prison to sharpen his arguments, but also to spread his thirst for knowledge to others in the movement. And he learned the language and the customs of his oppressor so that one day he might better convey to them how their own freedom depend upon his.
Mandela demonstrated that action and ideas are not enough. No matter how right, they must be chiseled into law and institutions. He was practical, testing his beliefs against the hard surface of circumstance and history. On core principles he was unyielding, which is why he could rebuff offers of unconditional release, reminding the Apartheid regime that “prisoners cannot enter into contracts.”
But as he showed in painstaking negotiations to transfer power and draft new laws, he was not afraid to compromise for the sake of a larger goal. And because he was not only a leader of a movement but a skilful politician, the Constitution that emerged was worthy of this multiracial democracy, true to his vision of laws that protect minority as well as majority rights, and the precious freedoms of every South African.
And finally, Mandela understood the ties that bind the human spirit. There is a word in South Africa Ubuntu – a word that captures Mandela’s greatest gift: his recognition that we are all bound together in ways that are invisible to the eye; that there is a oneness to humanity; that we achieve ourselves by sharing ourselves with others, and caring for those around us.
We can never know how much of this sense was innate in him, or how much was shaped in a dark and solitary cell. But we remember the gestures, large and small -- introducing his jailers as honored guests at his inauguration; taking a pitch in a Springbok uniform; turning his family’s heartbreak into a call to confront HIV/AIDS -- that revealed the depth of his empathy and his understanding. He not only embodied Ubuntu, he taught millions to find that truth within themselves.
It took a man like Madiba to free not just the prisoner, but the jailer as well -- (applause) -- to show that you must trust others so that they may trust you; to teach that reconciliation is not a matter of ignoring a cruel past, but a means of confronting it with inclusion and generosity and truth. He changed laws, but he also changed hearts.
For the people of South Africa, for those he inspired around the globe, Madiba’s passing is rightly a time of mourning, and a time to celebrate a heroic life. But I believe it should also prompt in each of us a time for self-reflection. With honesty, regardless of our station or our circumstance, we must ask: How well have I applied his lessons in my own life? It’s a question I ask myself, as a man and as a President.
We know that, like South Africa, the United States had to overcome centuries of racial subjugation. As was true here, it took sacrifice the sacrifice of countless people, known and unknown, to see the dawn of a new day. Michelle and I are beneficiaries of that struggle.
But in America, and in South Africa, and in countries all around the globe, we cannot allow our progress to cloud the fact that our work is not yet done. The struggles that follow the victory of formal equality or universal franchise may not be as filled with drama and moral clarity as those that came before, but they are no less important. For around the world today, we still see children suffering from hunger and disease. We still see run-down schools. We still see young people without prospects for the future. Around the world today, men and women are still imprisoned for their political beliefs, and are still persecuted for what they look like, and how they worship, and who they love. That is happening today.
And so we, too, must act on behalf of justice. We, too, must act on behalf of peace. There are too many people who happily embrace Madiba’s legacy of racial reconciliation, but passionately resist even modest reforms that would challenge chronic poverty and growing inequality. There are too many leaders who claim solidarity with Madiba’s struggle for freedom, but do not tolerate dissent from their own people. (Applause.) And there are too many of us on the sidelines, comfortable in complacency or cynicism when our voices must be heard.
The questions we face today -- how to promote equality and justice; how to uphold freedom and human rights; how to end conflict and sectarian war -- these things do not have easy answers. But there were no easy answers in front of that child born in World War I. Nelson Mandela reminds us that it always seems impossible until it is done. South Africa shows that is true. South Africa shows we can change, that we can choose a world defined not by our differences, but by our common hopes. We can choose a world defined not by conflict, but by peace and justice and opportunity.
We will never see the likes of Nelson Mandela again. But let me say to the young people of Africa and the young people around the world you, too, can make his life’s work your own. Over 30 years ago, while still a student, I learned of Nelson Mandela and the struggles taking place in this beautiful land, and it stirred something in me. It woke me up to my responsibilities to others and to myself, and it set me on an improbable journey that finds me here today.
And while I will always fall short of Madiba’s example, he makes me want to be a better man. He speaks to what’s best inside us. After this great liberator is laid to rest, and when we have returned to our cities and villages and rejoined our daily routines, let us search for his strength. Let us search for his largeness of spirit somewhere inside of ourselves. And when the night grows dark, when injustice weighs heavy on our hearts, when our best-laid plans seem beyond our reach, let us think of Madiba and the words that brought him comfort within the four walls of his cell: “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.”
What a magnificent soul it was. We will miss him deeply. May God bless the memory of Nelson Mandela. May God bless the people of South Africa.
