Inspired by Mandela ... and 'Biko'

The year was 1986. I had never heard of Nelson Mandela, but I was totally transfixed by rock artist Peter Gabriel, a former lead singer of the great British band Genesis. As a freshman in college I had a friend who turned me on to his solo music by snagging front row tickets to his tour stop at Reunion Arena in Dallas, Texas. It was a profound experience for my 17-year old self.

A song called "Biko" haunted me during the show. I looked it up afterward and learned about Stephen Biko, a black man who was killed in South Africa. It was a protest song and though I wasn't really a protesting sort, I kept digging and learned more about the struggles against Apartheid. Through that pre-Internet library work I was introduced to a man named Nelson Mandela.

Fast forward 27 years - I'm an older, slower, father of seven and I was literally stopped cold in my tracks when I read that Mandela was dead this week. I knew he wasn't well, realized how old he was, but nevertheless I found myself moved to tears at some memories I had buried away long ago.

There is nothing in my background that allows me to claim kinship with Nelson Mandela, with the struggles against Apartheid, or with the long legacy of racial hatred in South Africa. I'm of Irish descent and while we have grievances aplenty (just ask us) I really had nothing in common with the black victims of racial separation, hatred, and oppression.

But I had the song "Biko." I had the stinging, majestic bagpipes in that song that spoke to me in concert and in the endless replaying of Peter Gabriel albums and live versions of that song like few other songs have ever done before or since.

Musician Peter Gabriel led me to Stephen Biko. Biko led me to Nelson Mandela. Mandela led me to ask my professors what in the hell was going on in this place called South Africa, and my professors (one fine man in particular named Joe Kobylka who was also a Gabriel fan) showed me where to look without telling me what to think.

And now I sit here almost three decades later reviewing the landscape of events trying to remember a time when there was really a debate in Congress over whether we should even sanction a country that was treating some of its citizens so horribly. I try to remember that there was really a time in our country when blacks and whites were legally prohibited from marrying. I try to remember that there was really a time in our country when human beings were bought and sold as property. I try to remember that there was really a time in our country when women didn't have the right to vote, didn't have the right to property, and didn't have the full rights of citizenship.

It's almost 30 years since my eyes were first opened to the global struggle for human rights, courtesy of some damn rock musician who was just doing what he did, selling albums and playing concerts. Those eyes are fitfully open now, albeit often slow to see and slower to comprehend. But after almost 30 years of experience the simple words of Peter Gabriel about anti-Apartheid martyr Stephen Biko are as true as ever:

You can blow out a candle

But you can't blow out a fire

Once the flames begin to catch

The wind will blow it higher.

I need to teach my children about Nelson Mandela now. He's a figure of history and the songs that introduced me to him are likely ancient and uninteresting to them. I need to teach them that the struggle that he waged isn't won, and there are countless people who rely on us "privileged people" to speak for those who are still oppressed and without a voice.

Thank you Nelson Mandela for a life well lived and an inspirational model on how to keep moving forward. We will keep your fire, and the fire of Stephen Biko, burning.

Mike Kennedy is a Coeur d'Alene resident.