Beautiful things You know, when you saw the picture of the car that had exploded, you say, how could anyone emerge from that wreckage alive? And when you look and you see suggestion of movement, it’s one of those moments when you… yes, good is actually stronger than evil. And to have someone who had that experience and, of course, carries a visible emblem of having gone through that hell, with a shirt sleeve that dangles, and you say, yes, there is evidence that goodness is stronger than evil, love is stronger than hate. And, you know, to have him, not as a once off thing, but that consistently, everywhere, as a judge, as an advocate in other parts of the world, he just has this consistency in his message, you say, ‘God, you are smart. You create some beautiful things. And thank you for Albie. Thank you, thank you, God. Thank you that he can speak with a credibility that nothing else is able to grant a person.’ And we know he speaks what he lives and has been through the grinder. And if anyone had the right to say, ‘Clobber them!’ Albie would be. He is his own vindication, his own signature of authenticity. I mean, you can’t doubt him. In a way you almost tremble being with someone like that and say what an incredible privilege we have in our country that we can have people of this caliber.

On hope We thought that we were special, and we were special, certainly in the struggle, and we have very many special people. I pray that our land will become the country for which people such as Albie gave so much, that we will be a country – maybe not the richest country in the world, but a country where we are compassionate, a country where everyone counts, and they know they count, everyone, everyone is a somebody, you know, and that ought to be how we want to thank people like Albie, that the sacrifice you made was not in vain.

When I learned about Albie Sachs the first time, he was outside of the country, he was still in exile, and we were inside of the country and working almost underground in the democratic movement and in the human rights movement, in the anti-apartheid movement, but when liberation organisations were unbanned and everybody came back into the country, that's when I met Albie for the first time.

Albie is what is possible You know, when I met Albie for the first time, I said, I like that he's a white person, I like that he's a white man, I like that he is like this and he's a white man. It gives us so much faith. Albie gives you faith in being human, in being South African, a white South African man. You look at Albie and think, Albie is what is possible. He has such true consideration for people, and he is so open with everybody. He will tell you if you're not doing it right. Albie will show you how to be courageous. When you hesitate, he’ll bump off your ideas. Albie will tell you, he will show you how you need to bite the bullet, like do it. Albie can do that. A number of times I would say, ‘Gosh, I don't like to do this. I don't have to say it like this,’ and Albie will say, ‘There's no other way of saying it. You have to say it like this. You have to say it like this, because if you don't say it the way it is, you might be missing the point, or you might leave out what will make the point.’

Putting his whole being on the table And his power of forgiveness has just been.... I guess he epitomizes that which we try as South Africans to bring across. Albie is one of those people who epitomises that. Sometimes not even a grain bitterness with Albie. He gets angry and will tell you that he is angry, he will tell you that he's disappointed, he will tell you that this is not right, I don't like this, you know, I don't like what somebody did, I don't think that was the way to do it. But he will always come and put everything on the table, put his whole being on the table, and no matter how much you can search, you won't find even a grain of bitterness. I admire that about him. I still want to see one day Albie talking bitterly about his experience. I'm waiting for that day, or waiting for that occasion, and I think it will probably never come. The way I know I've known Albie for the past fifteen years, I think that day will never come, for that day doesn't exist in his mind. And you see it in his writing, you see the way in his judgments, you see it. You know, when we write a judgment, we would have consensus and we would have a unanimous judgment, Albie will find an angle which needs to be emphasised and write a concurring judgment, and what comes out of that judgment will be, and I'll always say, yeah, this is Albie. He always finds an angle that, I think, is born out of his experience, and taking his experience and giving it to the general experience. And I think probably that has a lot to do with the angle that he recognises every time when there is a national issue to resolve.

And my daughter is a young lawyer, and she says, ‘Mummy, I love that man's judgments.’ Certainly, she is my daughter, I'm a judge, and she says, ‘I love Albie Sachs' judgments,’ and I say, ‘Yes, I love his judgments, too.’ And I think these ideas, this thinking is born out of not only the experience about the bomb and his arm, but maybe through also growing up in a family with an activist father, struggle father in the labour movement, and the values that have been instilled in him, and the values that has made him what he is. His experiences, his personal suffering, you know, physical suffering. I don't even know if he regards it in the way that I regard it, but his personal experiences are just added values to what he already had, to what actually drove him there.

I think Albie is an example. The way Albie manifests and shows how to forgive, or maybe even how to reconcile, or even how to turn around the suffering, how to shift, let's say, racism into anti-racism, how to shift bitterness to forgiveness. It's how he lives his life and how he perceives his life, and his current notions of South Africanism is, I think, a good example of what we can achieve as a nation in our quest to turn around South Africa and shift into a space away from the bitterness, the racism, the inequalities, the indignities of the past. I think Albie shows how it can be done.

I am here tonight to celebrate a remarkable individual for the values and ideas that he stands for. But also, the way that the force of his example continues to multiply day by day, year after year. That to me is leadership…. In 1952 when 17-year-old Albie was arrested at a protest against apartheid, he asked the question that's so often leads to true leadership. Why? Why were his peers of colour always harassed, terrorised and threatened. Why couldn't his fellow South Africans stand up for the rights and dignities of others without fearing for their safety? Why couldn't his country see the humanity of all people? Albie Sachs’ legacy is a testament to the tireless pursuit of those answers. For his efforts, he was followed, raided, threatened, jailed, deprived of sleep, nearly assassinated and exiled from his homeland for a quarter of a century. He had every opportunity to give up, to wring his hands. He could have said, ‘I'm not black, these aren't my problems.’ But Albie didn't, thankfully, because what he was fighting for was so much bigger than him. When his friend Nelson Mandela was freed, Albie returned to a country on the cusp of rebirth. He helped write a new constitution, served on its highest court, defended the vulnerable, combated discrimination, helped bring South Africa closer to the place he always knew it could be. You see, Albie always believed that his country could be better, more fair, more just, for everyone. Because he knew that even if the day he was waiting for wouldn't come fast, it would still come. Isn't that what we're here celebrating tonight? The perseverance and bravery that change demands. Because you don't have to write a country's constitution to help change its laws. You don't have to cheat death to make a difference. All you have to do is ask that same question. That same question that made Albie a revolutionary, Why? Why don't our values line up with our reality? Why are lies and conspiracy allowed to breathe the same air as God's honest truth? Why does it feel like our rights are being stripped away? Our right to vote? Our right to make decisions about our bodies? Why do so many kids around our country go to neglected schools? Why do so many girls around the world struggle to get any schooling at all? Why can't we honour the light inside of all of us, no matter who we are or what we look like, or where we come from? Why? Albie taught us the power, and in his own words, the soft vengeance of those three little letters. He used them to help transform his own country. And now he's doing so… in doing that he challenged us to use them to transform our own. That's what we honour tonight. Not just a single man's legacy of progress, but the possibility of progress that's yet to be written. Possibility that lies inside all of us.

I first encountered Albie Sachs when he was in England, and there was a book published about the status of women under British law, and he was a co-author of that book. As it turned out, he was an author for hire. He was looking for law-connected work in England that was one of the projects that he did.

Then I read The Soft Vengeance of a Freedom Fighter, and I was just overwhelmed by it. It is such a beautiful, wonderful book. Then the next encounter with Albie was, it was an event at the Holocaust Museum here, and I was to introduce one of Albie’s colleagues on the Constitutional Court, Richard Goldstone. Albie was at the time at Washington University in St. Louis, giving lectures, and I said, ‘Albie, you are such a good writer. Tell me something that I can say in this introduction.’ So he gave me some lines, and they were amusing, but then he called back and he said, ‘No, it’s not right for the occasion. We should have something on a more philosophical note,’ and so he gave me something that was absolutely beautiful, and I read it.

I don’t remember the first time I met Albie. It was on one of his many visits to the United States.

A chemical reaction

Sometimes there’s a chemical reaction to another person and you say, ‘I like him, he’s a grand human.’ Well that was, when I read his book, I wanted to meet this remarkable man who suffered such a loss and yet is, as I’ve said many times, the most optimistic person I know. And that goes from his reaction then; now in the post-apartheid world, he is so optimistic about his country, recognising that there are horrendous problems that they must deal with, but he’s just - Albie’s wonderful company, so I enjoy being with him.

He encouraged me to come to South Africa, I think I was [there] at the winter of 2005, as a guest of the Constitutional Court, and that was my introduction to South Africa.

One of the things that is so wonderful about Albie’s life is that he was a freedom fighter, and then he helped create the new state. He was instrumental in drafting the Constitution, and he was one of the first members of their brand-new Constitution Court, where they never had such an institution before.

Writing for the people

I have said about Albie that he’s the most optimistic person I know. He is also able to communicate what’s in his head in a way that other people not only can understand, but people will want to be with him. His writing is sometimes poetic. It’s really beautiful. And while he’s very learned, his writing is also accessible. He is writing for the people, and not just for the people in power or the intellectuals. That is a remarkable characteristic that he has, that he is deliberately speaking to all of the people, and not just some of them.

The Strange Alchemy of Life and Law

[In] Albie’s book, he is totally candid about what his thought process is. Of course he’s on a collegial court, so when he writes an opinion, he has to incorporate the views of the people, the other justices, and I found in my own experience that nothing ever comes out exactly as it would if I were queen, because I have to command a majority if I’m going to speak for the court, so he does that very well. He is a beautiful writer, and I think that helps make the public understand the opinions and will make them monuments that will last and inspire through the ages.

A heritage of human rights

Being Jewish is part of it but being Jewish that was part of a certain culture. I think Albie’s ancestors came from Eastern Europe. Their leanings were more Socialist than conservative. I think Albie’s mother worked for a very prominent man who was head of the Zulu community. So he comes quite naturally to this notion the importance of human rights and of respect for minorities, because he is a member of a minority group, and a group that has throughout the ages been the object of hatred, intolerance, so I think that, yes, I think that it is a part of Albie; his Eastern European Jewish background. It’s made him sensitive to human rights, it’s made him sensitive to oppression by some of the people against people who don’t look like them, who have different customs. Yes, so I think his Jewish heritage is part of it.

The best thing about knowing Albie

Albie is a model of courage, and whenever I’m down and thinking this was a bad happening or this was ill fortune, and when I think of what he has surmounted, whatever momentary problem is plaguing me, it’s nothing compared to what this man, who refused to surrender – I mean, he’s made everything an experience that he could take something from. The human spirit that this too shall pass, even this we will overcome, that is what makes Albie the great person he is. Albie is a person who constantly seeks the joys of being alive in everything he does.

One of the things about Albie is [that] his enthusiasm is infectious, and he is a powerfully persuasive man, so if Albie were to ask me to do something, my usual answer is, ‘I have too much on my plate, I’m really sorry, but I can’t do whatever it is you’ve asked me to do.’ If Albie asked me to do something, I would probably say yes with no hesitation. He is powerfully persuasive, and just a joy to be with.

Albie’s unshakeable faith in a bright future for himself, for his country, for himself; it starts when he first is conscious in the hospital, the story about how he’s looking to see what’s missing and he makes - he must have been in terrible pain - but you read those passages of his book you are laughing, because he’s able to tell it in such an uplifting way, I think. Even having to learn to write with a different hand. He is an unconquerable spirit.

Mr President, First Lady Michelle Obama, distinguished guests and friends of this historic Playhouse, I am pleased beyond measure that Ford's Theater has asked me to present the Lincoln Medal to Justice Albie Sachs, brilliant, world renowned jurist, beautiful writer, brave freedom fighter, and the most engaging, inspiring optimist I know, a lawyer defending the oppressed and opposing evil in his native land in the grim years of apartheid, Albie dreamed of a new nation, a democracy respectful of the human dignity of every person. He has strived mightily to make that dream a reality on the ground. He played a lead role in drafting a constitution designed to overcome generations of race-based repression and to advance the equal citizenship stature of all who dwell in that once rigidly divided country.

Albie's gift with words and his skill as a lawyer could have assured him a high income and comfortable life. Instead, he chose to enlist in the long struggle against South Africa's harsh subordination of the country's racial majority. Placed in solitary confinement for several months without warrant charges or trial, and eventually exiled for some 23 years, Albie was targeted for assassination by South Africa's security forces. A bomb placed in his car while he was living in Mozambique left Albie without his right arm and sightless in one eye. In his moving autobiographical work, The Soft Vengeance of a Freedom Fighter, Albie tells of that ordeal and of his encounters years later in a free South Africa with the security force member ordered to kill him. How many of us would listen patiently to the confession of our would-be murderer, counsel him to speak in full candor to the Truth and Reconciliation Commission and shake his hand after he did so.

At South Africa's Constitutional Court, on which Albie served until his retirement last year, visitors will find an extraordinary display of artworks. It is an assemblage genuinely of, by and for the people of South Africa. Albie is principally responsible for gaining, in the main through donations he encouraged, the most vibrant collection I have seen in a courthouse anywhere in the world. Albie's opinions for the Court are strong in substance, graceful and lucid in style. In the art of gentle persuasion, he is a grand master.

Last week, Princeton University awarded Albie an honorary degree. The tribute delivered on that occasion fits my dear friend perfectly. It reads in part: 'His lifelong commitment to social justice and equality before the law springs from an unshakable faith in humanity that patiently embraces the peaceful competition of dissenting voices, so that freedom and enlightenment may prevail over oppression and ignorance.’

Now, I welcome Albie to join me.

Albie, for your courageous endeavors to repair tears in your country and world, a courage that at an equivalent in President Lincoln's struggle to end slavery, promote justice for all and bind up this nation's wounds, Ford's Theater is proud to honour you with the Lincoln Medal, and may I invite all assembled here to join me in a rousing 'Bravo, Albie.'

First recollections of Albie

Albie was practicing law in Cape Town, and I was practicing law in Johannesburg. We were both juniors at the time, young in the law, so didn't really have any contact. I think we once played in a cricket game against each other, but I didn't really have any contact with Albie. We were in different cities, and we were moving in different directions. So, I didn't really I know of him. I knew about him. I knew when he was arrested, I knew about his detention, and I knew that he then left the country and went into exile, but I didn't have real contact with him until 1990 when we started working together on the ANC constitutional Committee.

A very powerful style

He has a great capacity for writing and speaking. Very articulate person. He's a very learned man. You know, he can be very persuasive in his views, and he has a great ability to express them in a powerful way. I don't know whether you've read his judgments, the judgments which he writes. If you look at the judgments, of course, they're quite interesting, because they're all processed. They're all processed through meetings and meetings and meetings, but each judge has a distinctive style. So, though the ultimate judgment is a judgment in which consensus has been reached as to what should be said and what points should be made in it, and what should be left out and what should be put in, the writing is very distinctive. You can usually look and say, ‘Oh, that's so and so, that's so and so.’ But in fact, the judgment is a judgment of eleven, not the judgment of one. But the writing is the writing of one, and Albie has got a very powerful style, both in writing and in speaking. He speaks very well. He can speak on anything. You can give him any topic. You can sit down say, ‘Albie, will you speak to a crowd of a thousand people?’ And you say what you like me to speak on? You could say x, and he'll speak on x. He has a great, great capacity for that.

A strong advocate for diversity and understanding and accepting people

I think what was important with him was that he has been a strong advocate for reconciliation, strong advocate for diversity and understanding and accepting people. And I think the fact of his own history is important in that, so when he speaks, he speaks [as] a person with a whole history which is understood by people, and an understanding of where he has come from. So, I think in that context, it's an important factor of his history. But I don't think it makes him a symbol. I think he is what he is, and because of who he is, he has influence with people, and I think that comes from him.

I did not know Albie Sachs before he left the country. I knew of Albie Sachs. I knew that Albie Sachs was part of those people, those leaders that we had in the movement who had sacrificed a lot and who had suffered a lot, and when he was injured by the bomb, the prominence of his name just rose more and more.

A ruthlessness revealed

When Albie Sachs and people like Ruth First were bombed and injured, and in the case of Ruth First when she was killed, we knew that the apartheid regime had become desperate; it had become ruthless; because someone like Albie Sachs was a human rights lawyer who advocated human rights, respect for the human life of a person, dignity and all those things that are enshrined in the Bill of Rights. And we were amazed. Actually, we were shocked that they could go as far as killing or trying to kill Albie Sachs, regarding him, as they called people then, a terrorist. Then it actually revealed the brutality and the ruthlessness of the apartheid rulers that they would go and attack anyone, women, children and people who were not involved in the military struggle that the ANC had launched.

The human rights issue

The ANC knew that the negotiation process would commence, and that is why the ANC had readied itself. It had done a lot of preparatory work. And people like Albie Sachs had been part of that preparatory work. The ANC had set up a constitutional committee which started drafting the constitutional principles around which a constitution of South Africa would be pivoted, and Albie Sachs was one of the key movers and motivators for those constitutional principles. The human rights issue was key in his whole contribution, and he did not approach it from an ideological point of view. And that is really what is unique about Albie Sachs. He is not an ideologue. He is, if you like, a humanist, somebody who is so humane, somebody who wants humanity to be well-preserved, the rights of everyone to be well-secured, and he made great contributions during that process of preparing the constitutional principles for the ANC. And when the negotiations started, we were miles ahead of the apartheid negotiators, because we had spent time and energy preparing ourselves. Our strategy and our tactics were well-honed, well-sharpened and well-prepared. But more importantly, we had a team that was formidable, led by Nelson Mandela, no doubt. And in that team, we had a mixture of really outstanding sons and daughters of South Africa, many of whom had suffered immensely under the apartheid regime. And our team represented all strands of South African society.

His invaluable contribution

Albie did a lot of work, I would say, maybe in three phases of the Constitution process in South Africa. Firstly, when the ANC was in exile, he was one of our outstanding comrades in drafting our constitutional principles. And after that, he worked in the Constitution-drafting process in one of the working groups that I was involved in. His contribution was invaluable. Albie has a sharp mind. He's a clear thinker, and he always made really good, and outstanding proposals on constitutional matters. And beyond that, he also played a role in the Constitution process when he was appointed a Constitutional Court judge by Nelson Mandela, and his appointment really derived from the fact that he was one of us who have become so deeply immersed in constitutionalism and constitution-making. He and people like Kader Asmal, who was another comrade of ours, were immensely passionate about the Bill of Rights. Our Bill of Rights is forward-looking. It has socio-economic rights, and that was one of Albie Sachs's abiding contributions to our constitution-making process. So, on his tombstone, we will write: ‘The one person who made sure that we have a durable and outstanding Bill of Rights in our Constitution.’ And he is the real Mr Constitution. He is the real Mr Bill of Rights, because his contribution was truly, truly outstanding. And it was so outstanding that he was able to draw circles, real big circles around those on the National Party side, because they did not understand bills of rights. They did not understand constitution-making. And we were armed and loaded with real giants in constitution-making like Albie Sachs. So, they didn't know what we had in our back pockets. We had Albie Sachs in our back pockets because he was that outstanding.

I knew the Constitution would be in good hands

I had no doubt in my mind that Albie Sachs was one of those who should have been in the very first Constitutional Court. He was, is an outstanding jurist, outstanding constitutional lawyer, and he needed, he deserved, to be in the Constitutional Court without any doubt. If there ever was anybody who had immersed himself deeply into understanding our Bill of Rights and how the Constitution should work, it was Albie Sachs. So, Nelson Mandela had no doubt, no hesitation whatsoever, in appointing Albie Sachs to the Court. And I was thrilled, because then I knew that with Albie Sachs as a judge, our Constitution would be in good hands. It would have a great mind to interpret that Constitution. It would have a great intellect to give meaning to what the Constitution says. And it would have a man with a compassionate disposition to be able to interpret the rights that the Constitution enshrines for our people as a whole. And it would also be in the hands of a person who had suffered, a person who was very much aware of what the suffering of the masses of our people is all about. So, you could not wish for a better Constitutional Court Judge than an Albie Sachs who had traversed many, many ups and downs of his own life, and who was also part of this great liberation movement that has brought freedom to our country.

One of the great architects of our democracy

Albie Sachs is one of those people who, even with his - and he would never call it a disability - even with the way that he got injured, it's not an issue to him. It does not hamper him. He does not even invite empathy. He just sort of dismisses it as one of those things that has happened in his life, and even as he talks about it, he almost talks about it as though it happened to another person. And that's the unique attribute about Albie Sachs, and it helps him not to be vengeful. It helps him to be forgiving. And in a way, he is so forgiving that he kind of says, ‘I understand why they did it,’ which I find very strange. But it is Albie Sachs. It is part of his being, and that is why he's such a unique human being, a human being who is who is truly human, who is humble as well, who does not want to be pampered in any way whatsoever. And that's the Albie Sachs that many of us have come to like. And for me, it was a great honour and a real privilege to work with Albie Sachs on the Constitution. He's one of the great architects of our democracy, even though he may not admit it, but he is, and so it's been an honour to work with him.

You know, I can't remember when we first met, because subsequent meetings, they all come into one.

The Jail Diary of Albie Sachs

The Jail Diary of Albie Sachs. I read it as soon as it came out, and of course, it gave us an insight into what thousands of people were living through in prison. So, it was immensely valuable. But the idea of all these thousands of black people - including, of course, some people by then whom I knew, and one or two who were friends - this was a revelation, to have the real conditions, and all the rumours that we heard about how when you were being interrogated, how cruel, roughly and disgracefully you were treated and bashed about - here it all was; the psychological part of it, the physical part of it, everything. So [it was] a very important document.

On the Soft Vengeance of a Freedom Fighter

Then, of course, he went off to Europe, and then the years in Mozambique, and then this terrible, terrible thing happening. And of course, we didn't know exactly what the extent of the injury was. Then, of course, Albie tells it himself in later work. I think that Ruth first had been killed before then. So, as you can imagine, this was not something unexpected. The very fact that he was such an important opponent of apartheid meant that he was in enormous danger all the time, whether it was a parcel bomb, as with Ruth, or whether it was indeed a bomb under a car. Unlike the many people who've had terrible experiences - and it's valuable that they now more and more record them, write them, and there are these books - but he happens to be a very good writer. I think, because he's also a great reader. So, the talent is there, the ability to write, and the extraordinary solution to telling an unwritten story with the skill to do it. There's a synthesis there between the talent and the subject.

On Albie being appointed to the Constitutional Court

Justice, this is real justice. This is the man. And of course, you must remember that he was instrumental in the formation, in the whole idea of what a Constitutional Court is and its Constitution. The fact that Albie was and is a struggle hero made this extraordinary kind of justice, which was not simply a flourish, because he was eminently suited, from the point of view of his knowledge and his moral stature, to take on this particular job. But what many people, I think, don't know about is his aesthetic sense - the fact that the Court, the courtroom, is not like other courtrooms. You go in there and you don't have the feeling you're in the anteroom to being shut up in a cell. Now this was his idea, so that his aesthetic sense extends to architecture and interior design as it relates to the human spirit, just like his political convictions. Then, of course, the art, the pictures that are collected, that he has begged, bought, borrowed all along, for years. And it's wonderful that there is a marvelous picture gallery showing, indeed, the opposition, the obstinate opposition of life - as he's shown in his own person - that exists in art, so that art and justice are not separated, they are brought together. And I think one of the most moving things about it, and I'm sure that was also Albie’s idea, [is] that the bricks from the old cells form one of the walls in the Court, so that you're not removed from what really happened there over a number of generations and a number of the government authorities. I think we have to thank Albie for this, in addition to everything else that he did for us, including sacrificing an arm and the sight of one eye. I know that people, of course, collaborated with him, but as I say, his inspiration is behind it, his political morality, which is humanity. It's all there in that Court.

On the Strange Alchemy of Life and Law

When he writes [it’s] as if he is talking to you, without making clumsy efforts to be colloquial and trendy and whatever. But this just comes to him naturally, I think, and that, of course, is a great gift for us from him. I say, I've sent ‘The Alchemy’ [The Strange Alchemy of Life and Law] to friends all over the place, and the enthusiasm, the astonishment, is a huge tribute to everything that he is.

The human being, the Judge, the writer and the friend

If you are a writer, you are also a human being. Albert Camus said - wonderful, great writer, as you know - he said, ‘The day that I am no more than a writer, I shall cease to be a writer.’ Now this is a position in which I in South Africa, [and] others like me, found myself. First of all, there's the question of whether you're going to become a propagandist. No doubt you could be very good, and propaganda has its purpose, but that is a betrayal of yourself as a writer. So you have to face the problem of dividing yourself; that as a human being, as a citizen, with a citizen's responsibility, there are certain things that you have to do. And I took on that, but I kept, always, my absolute freedom as a writer. In other words, if my own comrades didn't like what I what I wrote, because perhaps it was not uncritical sometimes, I couldn't possibly take notice of that. I had to be myself as a citizen and myself as a writer. Now he, of course, it's different. He is, first of all, he is justice incarnate. He is a Judge. But the fact that he has sufficient skill as a writer to relate being a Judge to being, indeed, a citizen like everybody else, is wonderful, and that's what he does uniquely.

I'd also like to say, as a friend, as a companion, he is such a warm and lively and humorous person. But of course, he brings - he even talks about it - he talks about how there is humour in the law – [it] shocks people sometimes, but this is in his personality. He is an absolutely glowing human being. It's always a great pleasure to be with him.

I think so far as the writings of somebody who was in the thick of the struggle like Albie and then has the skill to write about it in the impressive and enlightening way that he did, this is important - that side of his life that he wrote these books.

One other thing

I personally feel so glad, born into this strange country, at least I have lived at the same time as a man as wonderful in every way as Albie Sachs.

Someone told me about Albie Sachs, who was this South African lawyer I had heard about; lots of people had heard about. He was teaching in Southampton. In 1977 I had the pleasure to welcome Albie in Maputo in Mozambique. So, he came to Mozambique, and it was delightful because I already knew Albie Sachs personally. And at the time, I was finishing my degree, my law degree, and he came as a Professor of Family Law and many, many other things.

‘You’re going to be head of this department’

The Ministry of Justice established… I was a judge first, that was the first thing. I was a prosecutor, and then a judge, and then, together with a few colleagues, we saw the need to have a research center. A center that would help us in this quest for a new legal system. So, this is when Albie - who had done research, certainly before, and was now teaching at Eduardo Mondlane University - was invited to come and work with us. So, he accepted immediately. And I said, ‘Well, Professor Albie Sachs has to be the head of this new department.’ I was establishing the department with other colleagues. And he said, ‘No, you are Mozambican. I'm a political exile. I'm here to help you, so you're going to be the head of this department.’ And the Minister accepted that, and we accepted to live with that. I learned a lot about this person that of whom I was the boss during those years, in terms of research, in terms of how you go about changing a whole system, a whole legal system that is entrenched in the way people perceive themselves, you know people - the common men and women - and how they perceive the power structures.

The soul of any party

Albie Sachs was the soul of any party. Albie had to be in parties. I remember going to a party at Indres Naidoo’s mother-in-law, Alma. She was a fantastic cook. She was Albie’s friend. Albie said, ‘Let's go.’ So, he would take me and my husband to a party on a weekend, or we would invite him. And Albie was always in party. He was so lively. He had that side to him. And you know what? I'm going to tell you something that that I think I need to say, if I'm talking about Albie. Me and Francesca, we used to say, ‘How come, you know, Albie… okay, he's tall and everything that, you know, would you say that he's handsome in that sense? No, he's charismatic in other senses. But why do all the women fall for him?’ That was another side of Albie Sachs.

So, when I put this, you know, when I put this... And of course, his habit… he would go to the beach any Sunday and any holiday. That was his routine, you know, for his football, to speak with people, to find out where the next party is, etc. because he was so much full of life, and he believed so much that no matter how many bombings and what the Civil War is doing, we are here and now. So, we need to live. He was a firm believer of that, and he infused that in all of us. That's why it was so good to have Albie around, you know.

Maputo heard the sound of the bomb

So, when I put this against that image of me arriving in front of Albie's house. It was the 7th of April, Mozambican Women's Day, 1988. Arriving in front of the block of apartments, very central where Albie lived because I had heard the noise. You know, Maputo heard the noise, and that was the noise that the bomb made when they attacked Albie Sachs. And we were all calling each other, saying, ‘What was that?’ It was not normal. ‘What was that? What was that?’ We were at war, but there were no blasts like that in Maputo city. And someone calls me and they say, ‘It's in front of Albie's house.’ Someone saw his car there. Perhaps something happened with it, with him. And I jumped into my car. I left my baby, I don't know, with whom. And I got there and I saw Albie’s blood.

So putting this together with that person who was everything to everyone, who was the soul of the party, who had advice for everybody, who ate with us in our houses, you know, who jumped of joy with the things that were good for us, who cried with us when we were sad, who had become part of our family, not in general terms - me, specifically, he had become part of my family. He was in our parties with my parents. He sat at the table with us. So, when I saw that, you know, it was one of the biggest shocks in my personal life. There were many shocks, we all have, you know, someone dies who is close to you, etc. That was one of them. And that's why it was so amazing to see Albie Sachs when he came to Mozambique one year after that, one year and something after that, when he came back from his rehabilitation in London. You know, it was like holiday. It was like the true holiday that was suspended on the seventh of April one year before because something happened to Albie Sachs. It was that dimension that we knew of Albie Sachs, when he was in Mozambique.

I arrived close to his house. The police had already cordoned off the place. The car was still there and completely, completely, you know, distorted and so on. And it was difficult to imagine that someone had got out of their alive. So, I … someone says, ‘Oh, she works with him. She works with him.’ You know, it's a little bit fuzzy, because my car, I had to leave it a little bit far from the place. So, I spoke to the police. The police allow me to get there. But at that time, the car had already left, the ambulance had already left with him and a doctor who was also a friend, Ivo Garrido, is actually a surgeon who was also passing, because everybody was going to the beach. That's what we did in those times. And so I went back to my car, so I asked, ‘Is he alive? Is he alive?’ No one knew, because what people had seen was that image that appears sometimes of him trying to get up, and then he collapsed, get up on the arm that was no longer there, on half the arm, and then he collapsed. So, people thought he had died at that point in time, and lots of people were crying and saying, ‘Albie is dead. Albie is dead. It was a bomb.’

‘He’s in good hands’

So I went to the hospital, and I got there, and they allowed me to go in. And then I found Ivo. He had put his hospital, you know, gear, etc. And so, we held each other, and I was… I just could not stop. And he said, ‘Look, he's in good hands. He's not dead. He's not dead, he's in good hands. But go tell everybody, there is no point in coming here.’ There was now a crowd outside of the Central Hospital of Maputo. There was a crowd. There were the journalists. Everybody was there. Everybody in Maputo was there, because people had heard the noise so far away, and so I told people, ‘He's not dead. He's not dead.’ That was the only news I had. For how long he was not going to be dead. We didn't know.

So we went to each other's houses, we cried that day, etc. But we were kept informed. Later on, he had been operated [on]. The arm had to be amputated, but he was going to live. And that image of Albie’s blood - I was… we were all wondering, but there is no blood left in him. What happened here? How? Where is Albie? You know, we want to see the body, etc. And that is why that is another crowd Albie story. But when he finally… I was with him in the ambulance, when he goes to the airport to be evacuated to London, his brother Johnny was there, and his sons were there. I was with him in the ambulance, and he was drifting in and out, we thought, of consciousness.

I want to say goodbye to Maputo

The doctors had asked that, you know, we don't go very near, etc. I was allowed in. So, I remember holding his hand, and when we got to the top of the stairs to go on the plane - it was a big plane, so it was quite high - he was feet in, to go first, and he said, ‘I want to say goodbye to Maputo. I want to say thank you.’ I said, ‘Albie don't be silly. This is no time for thank you.’ And the people who [were] carrying him had such a job in turning him around. But that's what Albie wanted. So, they said, ‘Yes, you are going to say [thank you]’ and without seeing anyone, because he was bandaged and obviously very sick, you know, he lifted his good arm, I can't remember which one, like that, and the crowd went [Gita makes roaring sound].

Our book together: Liberating the Law

So, you know, these images stayed with us. And it is fantastic that Albie himself afterwards can put what he went through, what he felt, etc., in books, in writings, in anecdotes, in conversations with friends, make jokes about his arm that's not there, about his eye that does not see, and even going into rages. That was early on during his treatment. I went to see him in London because we were writing a book, a book together. I was very proud of this, because it was my first book. I had never written a book, and we were writing a book together.

So, when he got better, he sent word that we continue to do the things that we were doing, so we're going to write this book. And I went to see him in London. And he had just been through some sort of physiotherapy training for a very sophisticated arm, which came from Germany, or something, that could do almost everything, because there was such a big movement around Albie Sachs everywhere in the world. And, of course, in London, you know, it was one of the bases of many ANC exiles, etc. So, he was surrounded by comrades and the huge solidarity movement. So, they got the most sophisticated, expensive arm. When I visit Albie, he says to me, ‘Look what they want to make me use. I tried and I tried and I can't.’ And I thought he almost had tears in his eyes. He was so sad about the fact that he was now about to replace his arm. And he said, ‘You know what? Come, come and see this.’ He was limping quite a bit in those days. Still, he was he had a lot of shrapnel and other problems. Come. We went to the other room. He picked up this thing, and he said, ‘This is horrible. It looks like science fiction.’ He picked up that thing, and he threw it on the bed, and he said, ‘I'm going to use this’ [shows left arm]. That's what Albie said. And he said, ‘I'm already learning how to write with this hand.’ And you know what? His handwriting with the left that he learned after losing his right arm is exactly the same today. When I see his writing, he perfected it, exactly the same. So that's what he told me that day, and that was the last thing I saw that that contraption, as he said. That was the last day I saw it. And I know he didn't use it.

Art in all its expression

There's a big cultural tradition. And during, I think, the ten years of armed struggle, it continued but linked to the suffering of the people. You see sculptures of Chissano, paintings of Malangatana portraying the suffering of the people. And there was a whole new school of artists, new generation of artists who took these as the masters, and they imitated it. It never stopped. It's a huge movement. So, it continued during the time of the Civil War. So beyond the ten years of armed struggle where people are fighting for their independence - and this is portrayed in in books, in poems, both from authors who were with FRELIMO, people who were at the struggle, but also authors who were not with FRELIMO physically, but were part of FRELIMO cells, like the big João Craveirinha or José Craveirinha rather. This culture continued. So, during the time of the of the Civil War, when Albie was in Mozambique, he became a little bit like the maecenas of the arts.

Albie used to have sessions with all the artists, visit them, find support for them from abroad, from foundations, from people; help them show their art elsewhere. Malangatana’s art travelled to London, to the Commonwealth Institute. Chissano sculptures went, I don't know where. The other one had his works in MoMA in New York. And Albie was very much part of showing the Mozambican art to the world, basically, in all its expression of sorrow, of joy, etc. And I think he continued that when he was the Judge at the Constitutional Court, because when I visited him there, I was amazed by the permanent exhibition of art. This time around, part of his collection of Mozambican art, which was quite big, but also South African art. He was rediscovering that South African art, and it was at that time that he talked to me about the book that was published afterwards on art and peace and law, something like that.

So, there also he was consistent, but he was very much someone, as you say, who had interest, genuine interest, on how people express themselves. And art was a big source of expression of raw emotions, of the war, of the peace, of everything. So, he worked a lot with artists, and I think he was quite instrumental in making this art known throughout the world, in fact.

A human dimension

I think that the experience of Mozambique brought a human dimension to all the things that Albie thought he wanted to do. He experimented a little bit to some extent, by being part of that process of creating the new Court, speaking to the people. And there were issues of national reconciliation at that time in Mozambique. It was immediately after independence, and there was there was anger still, and there were issues, truly, of the human dimension of establishing a new country on different bases. And I think that is the big experience that he took to the Constitutional Court.

The only thing I wanted to say was ‘Why?’

I remember that when Albie came to Maputo after his London trip, he came to our house. He went to see officials to say, thank you. That was a thank you trip. He came to our house. My parents were there, all my brothers and sisters were there, so it was a family reunion. And he told us about his experience, but he also told us about having met for the first time the person who actually, or one of the persons, was directly responsible for the bomb and for the results of that. And we all said, ‘Albie, so what did you say to him?’ You know? And we all had tears in our eyes, the emotion of it. And Albie says, in a very collected manner, ‘Oh, the only thing that occurred to me to say to him was, “Why?” I look at this black Angolan person working with the South African forces, who probably didn't know exactly what he was doing, and that the only thing I wanted to say to him was, “Why? Was it the money?” For sure, it couldn't have been $10,000, 10,000 Rand. “What is it that they paid you?”’ And we said, ‘Albie, is that all you found to say to this person?’ And he said, ‘Yes.’ And we said, ‘What was the answer?’ And he said, ‘There was no answer.’

So, yes, this… I think he was part of that vengeance that, you know, ‘I'm going to be a better person anytime than those who actually do things like this. I have to be.’ And I think that for Albie, that is a mission. He has to be.

Seen by everybody as truly a Mozambican

Albie cannot be a migrant somewhere. No. And the circumstances here were that, in principle, he would live in Mozambique for a long time. So as soon as he got to Mozambique, he wanted to fully understand the reality of Mozambique. He traveled throughout the country. He spoke to everybody, all walks of life. We talked about the artists. The artists, to me, represent very much… because you have the very well-known ones, but you have the ones starting. He got involved in the School of Arts in Mozambique, for example. He got involved with theater, the groups of theater that were starting. So basically, he got involved also when people were talking about the shortages and the difficulties and how to solve those problems, the issues at community level. He was part of anything that his own neighborhood would be doing. At that time, we worked a lot in terms of neighborhood, you know the rationing cards were part of a neighborhood organisation, but so were other things, you know, the cultural aspects and so on. So, he was very much part of his neighborhood meetings. He was there to talk about the cost of living, the shortage of things, and how people should go back to production. So, he was seen by everybody as truly a Mozambican.

On girlfriends

He's not the handsomest guy on the block. But, you know, I think that this thing of the beauty coming from within is what he radiates. And I'm going to tell you that the girlfriends were all gorgeous. I remember one particular girlfriend. I don't actually remember her name, you know, Italian type of beauty, you know. Green eyes, she was actually blonde, and he brought her to the center to teach us, or to work with us on computing, because computers were new, and we needed to go into that. But, you know, there was such a tenderness between them. She was absolutely gorgeous. She could have been, I don't know whom you know, Sophia Loren, Gina Lollobrigida, you know, someone. But they were always very, very gorgeous. But I think at that time, I don't know much about his life. He could also be a little bit private. But of course, since he liked parties and he was outgoing, you would see him at the beach with someone new and I don't think he can, he can hide, you know, emotion and so on. So, you would know that is now the girlfriend.

What Albie means to me

When I finished my course at university, that was it. That was an undergraduate course. And at that point in time, my horizons, like everybody in my generation, were to settle down. I was newly married. I had a little daughter at the time. The country was finally at peace. Many friends and family had been either in jail as political prisoners or gone to join the struggle and back. So, I really wanted to start my life as a young twenty-something [year-old] woman in Mozambique and do things. And I think it was Albie's influence that made me see much, much further than that for the first time - in terms of my career, let me put it that way. And he told me something that I never forgot. ‘Now you are involved with the reality of your country, that there is a lot of world out there, and you have to relate this reality. You have to relate even the court system that you want to create to the rest of the world. And for that, you need to know the rest of the world.’ And one good way to do that, according to Albie, was through pursuing this academic career. And when I went to Columbia University for the first time, I was among the first people of my generation, within the law set up, to have a master's degree. It was because of Albie, because Albie said to me, ‘You need to, you need to put the things that you know of your own country out there and share that with the world.’ That is a little bit how he said [it]. And it was through Albie that I got to know Professor Jack Greenberg at Columbia Law School, and I got to get the scholarship to do a one-year master's degree and to get acquainted with a whole different system of legal thinking, legal research and legal teaching. And that's what happened. So, the rest is history, in the sense that, after that - some years after that - I went to Oxford University to do a doctorate. But you know, that was the beginning of it, and he just opened up the world to me. And because he knew that I liked the research and I liked, you know, that line of things, he said, ‘That's your path. I'm going to help you.’ And he did.