Mandela Day should be about how we show up daily

IN a world fractured by polarised politics, deepening inequality, climate disruption and rising violence, Nelson Mandela International Day (Mandela Day) offers more than just an ideal, it offers a necessary recalibration.

It reminds us that our humanity is intertwined, that no one thrives in isolation, and that justice, care and mutual dignity must be the foundation of our collective response.

It invites us not to ignore the complexity of these poly-crises, but to meet them differently. With humility. With solidarity. With the unwavering belief that I am because you are, that what we do for one, we do for all.

I have had the privilege of being part of intentional communities that ground themselves in the values Madiba lived by – values that speak to justice, dignity, service, and ubuntu … our shared humanity. Though he held many roles in his lifetime, Madiba’s life was ultimately a testament to his unwavering commitment to dismantling systems of oppression, building bridges across divides, and restoring the humanity of those written out of power and opportunity.

Because of this, my interpretation of Mandela Day is anchored in the values he embodied in his service to humanity and the enduring invitation he left with us: “It is in your hands”.

To me, Mandela Day is an annual invitation to pause with intention and magnify service in practice, especially for those most vulnerable and underserved.

It is a global moment where I can join millions of people around the globe, to amplify acts of care and solidarity for at least 67 minutes. Acts that restore dignity, affirm humanity, and uphold freedom for all using whatever instrument is within reach.

Personally, the magic of this day is found in human connection: in serving and being served, in the sacred bond created when we move towards the needs of others. Yes, I can donate to a cause. But there is something magical and irreplaceable in physically showing up, shoulder to shoulder, in service.

I think the premise of Mandela Day is simple, yet profound: each of us has the ability, and responsibility to make the world better from wherever we are.

For South Africa, I believe that this culture of service could stretch beyond July 18. It could live in how we lead our daily lives. Yes, we pause everything for one day to serve others, but we could also find ways to embed these values in our rhythms and relationships.

Growing up in Soweto, where the neighbour was my keeper and my mother’s substitute when she was at work, I say this not to encourage us to start something new, but to continue. To return, if we’ve deviated. It has always and will always take a village.

You might ask, what does an abiding practice of Mandela Day actually look like? It could be greeting the cleaner or security by name, not out of politeness, but out of recognition. Sawubona!

Maybe it’s mentoring a young person in your circle and checking in consistently.  Maybe it’s listening, I mean really listening to someone whose voice often goes unheard. It might show up in how we use our voice in meetings to create space for others.

In how we challenge injustice in small rooms, long before the big platforms. In how we reimagine care, in our homes, our workplaces, our policies.

It lives in the mundane. The relational. The habitual. The decision to see and serve others not just once a year, but every day.

And I think it can only be from here, from these small, consistent acts can we begin to see Mandela Day manifest in the ways we want to see the world become, more just, more humane, more worth belonging to.

As a Mandela Rhodes Scholar, one of the most enduring lessons from my year in residence was around reconciliation, the dance of navigating complexity, of holding both the light and the shadow. As a young thinker working in long-term systems change, I know the importance of holding complexity, working with patience, and orienting toward structural shifts. That is important, necessary work.

But alongside it, we must allow ourselves to find and create moments that expand and enhance our human experience. Moments that let us laugh, connect, dance, breathe. Practising the values of Mandela Day doesn’t always look like advocacy or reform. Sometimes it looks like joy. Sometimes it looks like play. Sometimes it looks like choosing community over isolation. And in a country like ours, we need both, I think, the rigour of long-term change and the nourishment of being fully, beautifully human

While there’s no doubt that South Africa faces wicked challenges, from deepening inequality to fractured systems, the spirit of Mandela Day reminds us that the work of justice lives not only in grand reforms, but in how we show up, day by day.

There is room to practise these values in spaces that may not be about systemic change, but which profoundly shape the texture of daily life. Whether it’s in how we greet, include, mentor, or care, these acts, however small, are not insignificant.

They are acts of solidarity. Of presence. Of choosing humanity over indifference. Perhaps this, too, is a form of reconciliation, not the kind that denies injustice, but the kind that holds its weight honestly, while still choosing to act with hope.

It recognises that systemic shifts are needed, but that small, luminous acts allow us to live the values of Mandela Day in the now, and not just in the not-yet.

So wherever you find yourself today, at home, at work, in a taxi, or at a school gate let this be your invitation: Start where you are. Use what you have. Serve who you can.

Because Mandela Day is not just about what we do on 18 July it is about how we choose to show up in the days that follow. May we choose humanity, again and again.

Asante sana.

Mbili is a Master of Development Policy and Practice student from the University of Cape Town’s Nelson Mandela School of Public Governance.