Andrew Austin: Quiet goodbye amid history's moment

People wait for their chance to pay their respects to former South African president Nelson Mandela. Photo / AP

I became a little emotional yesterday. For the first time on my trip back to South Africa for Nelson Mandela's funeral, the sheer magnitude of the occasion finally got to me and I had to take a quiet moment.

I was standing outside the Union Buildings, the hilltop seat of government in Pretoria, when it happened. Thousands of people lined the streets waiting for the chance to catch a glimpse of their leader as he lay in state in the same building where he was inaugurated as South Africa's first democratically elected President in 1994.

I had spent a moving hour or so chatting to people waiting patiently in a queue for buses to take them up to the Union Buildings for their special moment with Madiba, the father of the nation.

Their resolute determination to pay tribute to their Tata was clear and they were happy to talk about it. No, they were proud to talk about it.

As I walked along the line, I would stop and chat. I had finished interviewing a group when a young man further up the queue demanded: "You interviewed them, why not me? I also have a story to tell you."

And he did. They all had personal tributes. And then it hit me: this wasn't only their moment, but mine as well.

As I stood there by myself, a little removed from the crowds, I reflected on what being there at this historic moment meant to me.

All my earlier frustrations at not being able to see the body myself disappeared. The media were given no special privileges and had to queue like everyone else - for hours. But at that moment, it didn't matter.

I admit that for the second time in a week - the first was when I heard Mandela had died - I shed quiet tears.

The day of the memorial service had been a miserable day but now as I stood there, I was baking under the hot, dry Pretoria sun.

I was transported back to 1994 when millions of South Africans queued in the sun to cast their vote, some for the first time, in the country's first democratic elections. Although the mood was more sombre now - they were there to mourn their hero - it still had that confidence and determination to show their country could be a success. As I stood before this grand building that was once a symbol of apartheid, I felt at peace.

Whatever it is going through, South Africa has resilience, like those patient people in the queues. It made me happy.

Honouring the man who gave them a free society

They came from far and wide and queued for hours - waiting patiently in the hot Pretoria sun to see their hero.

Those spoken to said this was an important moment in the country's history.

Maphuti Mothata said he was there to "honour our former President".

Artist Nigerian Taiwo Oho said he had seen the body, which is lying in state, but had decided to stay. "I did Madiba's painting off a photograph," he said.

His friend, Daniel Amah, also from Nigeria, said he had found the experience "quite touching".

"He looked like he was still alive."

Randy Mphel said he was there to sell books for his friend, Jacob Khumalo, the author of Freedom v Apartheid - and because it was important.

Standing out in a sea of black faces were three young white South Africans - Claudio Caldeira, his brother Mario and their cousin Rafael Alfonso.

"We are a free society because of him. He spent 27 years in prison, so this is the least we can do," Claudio Caldeira said.