VIV Moments

Hometown

Park City, UT via Los Angeles

Joie de VIVre

“Singing in the Rain” with my 3-year-old-daughter, dancing with my husband, surfing off Oahu, kayaking with orcas, lightning bugs, thunderstorms and lazy summer evenings with my family in the countryside, magic realism literature, concerts at the Hollywood Bowl, gourmet supper club, skiing champagne powder in Utah, and drinking good wine with friends.

VIV Moment

After dreaming about it for 14 years, I went to Africa, lured by a friend whose stories of the bush, the beauty and the magic had haunted me. Fate offered me a chance when I was asked to lead an ambassador program — anywhere in the world, topic of my choice. I chose South Africa.

Twelve diverse women signed up for my “Women as Storytellers” delegation, and for two weeks we explored the urban blight of Johannesburg, the Big Five animals at Kruger National Park, and the enchanting beauty of Cape Town. One woman, a retired librarian from New York City, is a professional storyteller. At each place we visit, she tells a story acutely appropriate to the setting. In the slums of Soweto she relates a lively morality tale, about stealing, to the young school children; at a meeting between the old-school white-Afrikaans elitist actors and young black filmmakers, she diffuses the thick tension with a humorous tale about vanity.

Her magic envelops us and the trip evolves into a series of perfect moments — the crescendo being when we are invited to attend a very special event by a professor in Cape Town.

To me, Cape Town is the most beautiful city in the world, with its Dutch architecture, glorious Table Mountain, white sand beaches, cosmopolitan eateries, and confluence of 33 different languages spoken by a méelange of the most striking people, many with café au lait skin and steel-gray eyes. We have the good fortune of being privy to an audience with Nelson Mandela as he is speaking to a union of tradeswomen who have gathered in an enormous, cavernous hall and are waiting patiently for “Madiba.”

We slide into our seats and take in the electric ambiance. When Mandela walks into the hall, slowly shuffling across the stage, 3,000 women dressed in a riot of colorful homespun cloth leap to their feet, and a wave of hair-raising energy sweeps across the room.

There is no screaming or discordant expression, rather fluidity and unity in song as each woman waves her arms in the air rhythmically above her turbaned head. Mandela stops and turns his open, smiling face to each one, his arms uplifted, singing back.

For 15 minutes, maybe more, they melodiously sing from their hearts and he loves them right back. Father of a nation, this man has spent many years locked in a cell on Robben Island just seven kilometers off the coast from where we stand. It is amazing to me that one man could be so humble yet so responsive, so selfless for the greater good. He makes me want to be a better person.

It is one of those euphoric moments when you realize that you are in the presence of greatness. Humility and unity abound. It is one of those moments when you stop and reflect about what you are doing with your life, how you can contribute more and be of service; how you can be a more conscious inhabitant of this planet.

I am one of 10 white women in the room, and I feel very small, but never like an intruder. I hum along, my arms swaying in the air. It is a glorious moment to be alive, to be human.

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