The world pays tribute to Mandela (slideshow)
As South Africans come to terms with the loss of former president Nelson Mandela, the rest of the world bids farewell to Madiba.
Pimples: Saving Madiba's rabbit (video)
Gwede, Mac and Blade try their best to stop the rabbit from whispering in Mandela's ear. But the elusive animal has some tricks up its sleeve.
Zapiro's best Madiba cartoons (slideshow)
From his toughest moments to his most triumphant, Madiba has been an inspiration. Here are some of our favourite Zapiro cartoons about him from 1994 to 2013.
Mandela: SA's greatest son laid to rest (slideshow)
The world watched as Nelson Mandela was finally laid to rest in his hometown of Qunu following a dignified and moving funeral ceremony on Sunday.
I am a middle-class child of the Y Generation -- the Why Generation. I came of age in the post-apartheid 1990s. We were taught to be brash, question authority, talk back and think smart. Our parents flooded us with learning tools. My life has been as much framed by the fight for freedom in this country as it has by the technological boom that catapulted the world on to the Âinformation highway.
I was not old enough to cast my vote on April 27 1994, but I was old enough to understand what was happening, to stand at the feet of Nelson Mandela that glorious day at the Union Buildings, my chest swelling with pride, elation and relief. Freedom had come. Halala!
For a special few of us, freedom was real. The children of exiled struggle comrades-turned-icons, the children of men and women who had gone from the trenches to the boardroom. I get the sense that this baffled my parents' generation as much as it did mine. It was the first hint of the question that would define my generation: so what then will they fight for?
Sadly, our response has been less than satisfactory. We are the spoilt children of Mother Freedom. We interpreted freedom as the right to have. We could go to whichever beach we wanted, dine in the finest restaurants, shoulder to shoulder with our former madams and masters. White schools welcomed us with (semi-)open arms, allowing us to gain their knowledge, wear their uniforms, acquire their accents. We could speak to people on other continents, growing up in chat rooms and watching youth culture beamed across flat-screen TVs.
And then, after decades of South Africa's loud calls for freedom booming around the globe, a silence grew. A loud silence that said: what next? We had negotiated a revolution and written a Constitution that was the envy of human-rights activists throughout the world. But these victories left a gaping vacuum in the psyche of the country's youth. The rainbow nation, so bright and diverse in its colours, seemed to be dimming with each passing year and the generation entrusted with moving the country to the next level -- the developmental state -- seemed not to know how to stop partying.
And still Generation Why continued the post-apartheid festivities. Our parents had created the freedom; it was up to us to enjoy it. We went to university and studied actuarial science, engineering and investment banking, many of us priding ourselves on being able to put "first black â€¦" before our job title. Black economic empowerment ensured that a private school accent and a penchant for fine whisky would propel us to the top of the corporate game. And the silence grew.
Yes, there were years of active debate. There were youth development initiatives, HIV/Aids initiatives, agricultural initiatives. But those were for the less fortunate. We, who attended the best schools and hung out in the best nightclubs, became content to leave the politics to the politicians.
My generation has all the tools necessary to drown out that silence threatening to overtake our hard-won freedoms. We are constantly in touch. Not necessarily with the world around us -- we use the internet to search for the latest fashion trends and to create blogs about nothing. We use our cellphones to get directions to parties and to send more sweet nothings to one another. The more we have learned to communicate, the less we know what to say.
But the blame is not entirely our own. We have taken our cue from leaders who, with every crisis, grow more hushed. They believe that if they say as little as possible, better yet nothing at all, then all our problems will go away. When people began to die of Aids, when millions of rands were misappropriated in the arms deal, when Zimbabweans began to cross our borders in search initially of jobs and stability and now food and water â€¦
And we, Generation Why, never asked why our leaders stood silent. We have not spoken. We simply basked in the silence that is the birthright of freedom.
We owe it to ourselves and to those who have gone before us (those who are now perhaps too tired or too comfortable to continue to speak) to use media and communication tools to foster the growth of South Africa through her turbulent teens and into her potential-filled youth.
I want my generation to snuff out the silence that has enveloped the political spaces in our country. I want us to make a noise that will be heard past our borders and across our continent: why are we here, what are we fighting for, why should we bother, what difference will it make? The first question is "Why?" For what it is worth, my answer is: "Because we can, because we should, because we must."
Zengeziwe Msimang works in the ICT sector. She writes in her personal capacity