I wouldn't say that I ever met Nelson Mandela. But I did see him speak in person at the opening of the Robben Island gateway at Cape Town's waterfront. It was what seems to me like an age ago, and yet even then he seemed old. I was standing a few meters away and as he was helped by two minders to the stage I was struck by his frailty. Until, that is, he reached the podium and stopped upright in front of it, and, almost imperceptibly, transformed into the tall and graceful statesman I recognised so well, the global image embodied in a man.

He softly delivered a cutting takedown of Mbeki's AIDS policy whilst managing to sound like he was honouring him. In particular I remember the words "of course, I would never criticise my president". Just a strong enough hint of irony to make his point, without offering any cheap quotes for the hacks. I realised in that moment that behind this gently courageous icon lay one of the most astute political minds of our era. Of course this should come as no surprise if you know how carefully he orchestrated the circumstances of his release whilst still imprisoned, anticipating the significance of the particular sequence of events to come that would lead to the 1994 elections and his presidency.

I, like many others, disagreed with much of his government's smooth maintenance of the capitalism that continues today to impoverish the lives of most South Africans. I was, however, and remain, deeply moved by the man, the struggle he represents, and his role as a reflective and calm figurehead during South Africa's journey out of an abject and brutal phase of its history. He should be remembered first and foremost for all of that. And yet to remember and honour him properly is also to remember him as a politician in every sense of the word. He implemented his specific political vision with an unusual integrity and compassion, and, alongside recognising that, there is no shame in examining that vision and its consequences with the kind of rigour that I imagine he would have respected.

RIP.