When Nelson Mandela died two weeks ago at the age of 95, television channels and radio stations brimmed with tributes to this internationally beloved man. A civil rights icon, a savvy political strategist, a Nobel Prize recipient and the first black president of South Africa—he wore all these hats, and each one with more elegance than the last. Yet as a Muslim woman, I found myself appreciating Mandela and his life through an entirely different prism. That of Chapter 12 in the Holy Qur’an.
Chapter 12 is titled “Yusuf,” (or Joseph) and it stands out from other chapters in the Qur’an in that it is the only one which narrates one story, from beginning to end, of one prophet—Yusuf—who does not appear again outside of these dozen or so pages. Now I certainly don’t mean to imply that Mandela was a prophet, but I do find the trajectories of Mandela and Prophet Yusuf’s lives and the composure with which they met tribulations, remarkably similar. Muslims often read about the superhuman sacrifices and herculean psychological strength of the men and women in the Qur’an and, either sadly or matter-of-factly, accept that nothing close to this caliber of courage exists in the modern-day world. How can we expect to find Jacob’s patience, Mary’s trust, or Noah’s persistence in this day and age? Needless to say, it is a depressing thought. It leaves us feeling as though the Qur’an is a book of principles applicable then and now, but describes a breed of people who are long gone. Then along comes a man like Mandela.
To appreciate the parallels between Mandela’s conduct under fire and that of Yusuf, we have to first revisit Yusuf’s story. As a young man Yusuf was sold in slavery to a wealthy Egyptian businessman. The man’s wife, taken by Yusuf’s handsomeness (Yusuf is described as the most beautiful man to ever walk the earth) tried to seduce him, but when he refused the married woman’s advances, she used her power and influence to have him jailed. The length of his sentence is unclear, but the Qur’an does tell us he spent his time in his cell praying and holding tightly to the hope that God had greater plans for him than languishing in prison for the remainder of his life. In fact, his pious demeanor, even in the throes of such a tribulation, quickly earned the respect of his fellow inmates, who would regularly seek out his counsel.
Mandela’s 27-year prison sentence parallels that of Yusuf. While the latter was jailed for adhering to his moral code of modesty and chastity, Mandela’s enemies imprisoned him in 1962 for refusing to abandon his guiding principle—an end to apartheid government in South Africa. After being convicted of sedition and conspiracy to overthrow the state, he found himself facing down the barrel of a life sentence. This, in and of itself, does not merit comparison with a prophet; after all, many defiant young men and women are unjustly imprisoned for their beliefs. It is the dignity and resilience with which Mandela handled his sentence that reminds one of Yusuf.
For the earlier portion of his 27 years in prison, Mandela was classified as the lowest grade of prisoner and lived in a damp concrete cell measuring eight feet by seven feet with a straw mat on which to sleep. Several white prison wardens verbally and physically harassed him, often placing him in solitary confinement for mild transgressions. Despite all signs to the contrary, Mandela clung to hope, just as Yusuf had done. He did not lash out at the guards or sink into despair. Instead, he continued to believe that neither his cause nor his life was lost, and he busied himself mounting campaigns of passive resistance against the inequities in treatment between the Asian and black prisoners—campaigns that ultimately tamed and earned the respect of the bullying guards. Over time, the guards, impressed by Mandela’s sagaciousness, began to consult him, much like Yusuf’s inmates sought his advice.
Even more than the dignity and resilience with which Mandela endured his 27 years in prison, the forgiveness he showed upon his release hearkens Yusuf. After many years in prison, Yusuf was pardoned by the King of Egypt who, impressed by his honesty and wisdom, appointed him to preside over the food stores of the kingdom. When his brothers approached him one day, destitute and unaware they were standing before the sibling they had jealously hurled to the bottom of a well and left to die, Yusuf immediately recognized them and not only gave them generous sacks of grain, but also returned to them the money they had offered as payment. He later revealed his identity and as they stood in shock, asking for forgiveness but expecting retribution, he replied, “No blame will there be upon you today. Allah will forgive you; and He is the most merciful of the merciful” (Chapter 12: Verse 92).
In much the same way, Mandela stunned his enemies with forgiveness upon his release. In 1994 Mandela took office as the first black South African president to be elected in a multiracial, fully representative election. Just as Yusuf’s brothers anticipated that the brother who had been left to die, sold into slavery and then locked in prison for years, all as a result of their petty envy, would exact revenge on them, so too did Mandela’s enemies expect him to retaliate now that he was in a position of power. But what did Mandela do? He declared that peace to the black majority could only come about through reconciliation with the white minority. His words were not hollow rhetoric because he followed them with his own example. He invited his former captors and guards to his inauguration; he met with senior figures of the apartheid regime, including Percy Yutar, the man who had prosecuted him 27 years earlier and, in fact, had sought the death penalty against Mandela; and, he appointed de Klerk, the seventh and last president of the apartheid era, as first Deputy president in the new government. Mandela dismantled the legacy of the apartheid by emphasizing personal forgiveness and reconciliation. He said, “courageous people do not fear forgiving, for the sake of peace.”
Mandela offered a leadership model marked by a deep spirit of generosity; a quality rarely found in men or leaders. One can’t help but notice the similarities between this South African man of the 21st century and a prophet of old: they both endured wrongful imprisonment with dignity and resilience, went from inmates to leaders within their prison community, came out into the world to become political heavyweights and, perhaps most importantly of all, extended a smile and a hand of friendship to all those who had hurt them. A man such as Mandela gives hope that there are still those among us in the modern-day world who exemplify the characteristics of the men and women described in the Qur’an as most beloved to God.
Zehra Rizavi is the Managing Editor at Altmuslimah.
