For the past eight years, I’d driven this route with pleasurable anticipation. But now, with dread in my heart, I was on my way to Madiba to tell him I was abandoning South Africa. This was going to be my most difficult meeting with him ever.
I was terrified. As usual, our sessions were closed, and we had privacy. We went through the usual formalities, and I settled into my work.
I removed his hearing aids, cleaned them and examined his ears. I quickly ran out of medical things to do and could defer no longer. I had thought about how to frame my news and had rehearsed it, but couldn’t bring it to mind.
So, I launched: “Madiba, I would like to explain, as I’ve alluded to before, that I will be leaving South Africa. I’m desperately worried about the criminal situation and I want my children to experience life without it. “Although I’ve accepted a job in Australia which requires me to leave in a few weeks, I have come to ask your opinion and, although this order of events is unorthodox, to ask your permission, retrospectively, to go.
” He was sitting very still, almost stern, and looking at me intently. I continued. “I have also come to thank you for the honour of being allowed to treat you.
I am going to miss you. I would like to ask your permission to come and visit you when I return to South Africa in the future.” I fell silent, not knowing what to expect.
Madiba stared at me without expression for what seemed like an eternity, and I felt ashamed. Then,.