本想寫篇短文獻給我的瑪迪巴，但想說的奧巴馬都講了，把它翻譯出來做個紀念。正如如奧巴馬所說，He makes me want to be a better man...
奧巴馬總統在南非前總統納爾遜曼德拉追悼會上的致詞
南非約翰內斯堡第一國家銀行體育館
謝謝，謝謝大家。尊敬的格麗卡（曼德拉遺孀）和曼德拉的親屬，祖瑪總統和南非政府成員，各國元首和各位貴賓，我十分榮幸能在此和您們共同追憶一位偉人。
感謝南非及世界各國人民和我共同分享對納爾遜曼德拉的記憶。他的鬥爭就是你們的鬥爭，他的勝利也是你們的勝利。為你們的尊嚴和希望，他奉獻了自己一生。你們享受的自由和民主，是他留下的傳奇。
語言能記錄我們經曆的事件和時間，但難以講述人生的歡欣和哀傷，更難描繪生命中的啟迪和安詳。對這位將一個國家推向公義，並激勵全人類奮進的偉人，我們又該如何追訴呢？
一次世界大戰期間，他出生在遠離權力的鄉村。一位由部落長老啟蒙的牧童，竟成長為20世紀最偉大的解放者。
和甘地一樣，他領導了一場看起來全無希望的抗爭。和馬丁路德金博士一樣，他向種族歧視的謬論發出了強有力的挑戰。他的監獄生涯從肯尼迪和赫羅曉夫時代持續到冷戰結束。跨出牢籠的他，卻和林肯一樣，拯救了一個即將分崩離析的國家。
和美利堅合眾國的奠基人一樣，他不僅用憲法奠定了民主，自由和法製的基石，而且用自身的激流勇退，為後人樹立了光輝的榜樣。
麵對他成就和人民對他的敬仰，很難不把他想象成一幅俯視眾生，慈祥微笑的聖像。但曼德拉不是一幅毫無生氣的肖像，他樂於和我們分享他的疑慮和怯懦，他在勝利中的失誤。“我不是一個聖人”他說“除非你認為聖人就是那些努力改進自身的罪人。”
我們對他的敬愛在於他雖然肩負重擔，依然坦承過失，充滿幽默，有時還頑皮不遜。他不是一尊大理石雕塑，而是一位有血有肉的人子，人夫，人父和摯友。正是這樣，我們才能從他身上感悟真知。他的所得全非天賜，在他的人生之旅中充滿了奮進，堅韌和信念的力量。他的故事告訴人們，超越自我的傳奇不隻停留在史書中，更演繹在你我身邊。
曼德拉的故事揭示了行動的力量，指引我們為理想而獻身。也許他確實繼承了他父親“驕傲的反叛精神和頑固的公平意識。”和千千萬萬南非黑人和有色人種一樣，他曆盡“千般羞辱，萬種不平。。。渴望推翻這奴役我人民的製度。“
和其他非國大的前輩，如西西魯和坦布斯一樣，瑪迪巴克製著自己的憤怒，引導著自己的渴望，建立了有效的鬥爭組織和策略，人們得以之為器，為自己天賦的尊嚴而戰。他深知自己行動的後果和抗爭的代價“我為推翻白人統治而戰，我也為避免黑人專製而戰。我要將民主自由的精神，和諧平等的理念刻入人心。這些是我生存的目標。如果需要為之付出生命的代價，亦不足惜。”
曼德拉不僅為我們展示了行動的力量，也明示了理想的力量，辯論和說服的重要性，以及不僅要研究盟友，更須了解對手的智慧。他深知牢獄高牆無法禁錮思想，無情的子彈也不能熄滅自由之光。依靠自己的激情和魅力，借助豐富的宣傳經驗，他將政府的法庭變成了對種族隔離製度控訴的會場。他利用漫漫牢獄生涯完善自己的理論，也將自己對知識的渴求傳播給了獄友。他甚至學會了壓迫者的語言和風俗，以便有朝一日更好地說服他們”你們的自由和我的是緊緊相連的。“
曼德拉還揭示了僅有行動和理想是不夠的。不管這些想法多麽正確，它們必須基於法製的框架。他利用社會現實和曆史校正自己的行動。但在原則問題上他卻絕無妥協，他回絕了白人政府對自己無條件釋放的提案“犯人是無權簽訂合約的。”
但在權力移交和籌劃新法律的艱苦談判中，為了實現一個更大的目標，他是不懼折衷的。他展示了自己不僅是一位革命鬥士，也是一位成熟的政治家。因此他才能創立一部多種族民主憲法，保障了南非各族民眾的自由權利。
最後，他深深理解凝聚人心的理念。在南非有一個婦孺皆知的詞-UBUNTU。它揭示了曼德拉的寶貴品德：他理解人群中有一個看不見的紐帶凝聚著我們，那就是隻有通過分享與關愛才能實現自己。
我們不能設想他如何能在牢獄的高牆下修煉出這種美德。但我們將永遠銘記他的點點滴滴- 邀請看管他的獄卒作為貴賓參加他的總統就職典禮，身著南非橄欖球隊製服出現在球場，把自己至親的不幸變成對愛滋病對抗的宣言。這些細微之處無不展示著對他人的同情和理解。他不僅履行著UBUNTU，更指引著芸芸眾生發現了真我。
曼德拉不僅解放了囚犯，還釋放了獄卒。他告知我們隻有信他才能被信。他教育了我們和解不是失憶，而是用包容和寬恕來直麵罪行。他改變了法律，更改變了人心。
對南非和世界各地被他的事跡激勵的人們，瑪迪巴的去世帶給我們無限的哀傷，但同時也給於我們追思這樣一個英勇生命的契機。我認為這也是自我反思的時刻。無論我們個人的情況如何，大家都應坦率地捫心自問“我該如何運用曼德拉的理念？”作為一個個人，也作為一位總統，我對自己提出這個問題，
我們知道，南非和美國曆經幾個世紀的抗爭才取得了對抗種族歧視的勝利。由於無數仁人誌士的犧牲才使我們看到了曙光。我和咪蕭邇都是這場鬥爭的收益者。但在南非，在美國，在世界各國，我們不能因為局部的成功就滿足不前。
我們麵臨的鬥爭也許不如前人麵對的那樣黑白分明並充滿戲劇性，但它同樣事管重大。俯瞰當今世界，還有無數兒童處身饑寒交迫之中，破舊不堪的校舍四處可見，千萬青年仍在無望地掙紮。許多人因為政治和宗教信仰而飽受迫害，甚至沒有選擇愛的權利，這些苦難正發生在我們的周圍。
因此，我們必須以公理和和平之名而行動。許多人能夠接受瑪迪巴的民族和解思想，但卻對改善貧困和不平等的細小變革充滿抵觸。在政治舞台上，有太多的演員聲稱緊隨瑪迪巴的自由之旗，但從不容忍持不同政見的族人。當這世界急需嘹亮正義之聲時，卻有太多的利己和悲觀主義者正舒適地袖手旁觀。
我們今天麵對著這樣一些挑戰，如推行平等和公正，維護自由和人權，製止戰爭。這些問題是沒有簡單答案的。但那個生於一次大戰的孩子麵對的問題也是如此的。納爾遜曼德拉揭示這樣一個真理，直到曙光來臨之前，勝利的前景看起來總是遙遙無期的。南非為世界講述了這樣的故事。它告訴我們可以選擇基於共同的理想，而非不同的理念，來分享同一個世界。我們可以選擇一個充滿和平，公理，機遇，而不是由衝突來控製的世界。
我們也許再也看不到如納爾遜曼德拉一般的巨人了，但我要對南非和世界各個角落的青年說，你也可以在自己的身上延續他的傳奇。30年前，還是一個學生的我聽到了納爾遜曼德拉在這片美麗的土地上抗爭的故事。這故事打破了我心中的平靜，它喚醒了我對自己和他人的責任心，把我送上了一個難以置信的征程，至致今日我可以站在你們的麵前。雖然離瑪迪巴的標準還很遠，但他激勵著我做一個好人。他告訴我們人人身上都能有奇跡發生。
當我們送別偉人，返回自己的城市和鄉村，重新融入日常的生活中，請不要忘記繼續尋找偉人的力量，讓我們在心靈深處尋找自己的曼德拉。當寒夜深沉時，在公理無望處，當希望看似無望之際，讓我們重溫陪伴瑪迪巴渡過漫漫牢期的詩句“牢門百尺尤見日，枷鎖千斤難箍心，吾乃我命之領主，我是吾魂之護神”。
這是怎樣一個雄美的靈魂啊。我們會永遠思念你。願主永護納爾遜曼德拉的精神，願主眷顧南非人民。
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.
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