Where were you?

 Where were you on April 27th 1994? Take a moment to think back...

Did you stand for hours, first in the pre-dawn chill and then in the sun? Did you brave the rain? There was provision for some to cast their votes the previous day: the elderly, and those with special needs, and those who had to work on Election Day. There was even an allowance for "overflow" voting the next day.

Did you queue with excitement, or with fear? Times had been tense - threats of violence in some places, actual violence in others, with protests and riots and old-style police strong-arm tactics. The assassination of Chris Hani the previous year was fresh in our minds. 

Perhaps we all approached the day with a cocktail of feelings: hope as the base, joined by a sense of justice, with a swirl of trepidation and a dash of cynicism, and maybe a slice of bright excitement to top it off.

I had the privilege of working at a local election station. We were trained beforehand in how make the ink mark on the thumb and how to use the ultraviolet scanners to check for those marks. Only a select group of volunteers were permitted to stand at the actual voting boxes where the folded ballot papers were pushed in with rulers; only some were allowed to check the voters' rolls and people's IDs. But we all had a role to play. 

I remember doing door duty, and handing out ballot forms. It was quiet, just a low murmur of brief exchanges between the waiting citizens, instructions from the officials. It was humbling and rewarding to see every person allowed through the doors, welcomed with a smile, and finally allowed to step up and make their cross, many for the first time in their lives. No matter how different we all looked or the languages we spoke, that day we were simply all South Africans, and proudly so.