Glasgow ’sMiles Better

When I received an invitation to the unveiling of Glasgow's Nelson Mandela statue, I smiled as memories of a beautiful day in June 1988 came flooding back. It was a day that left a lasting impression on me.

When I told a friend I was going, they asked (reasonably): "What's the link between Glasgow and Nelson Mandela?" It's easy to mock the naming of every other public space after the great man, but in Glasgow it hits different.

Alan B Herriot's Wonderful Statue

Glasgow was the first city to confer the Freedom of the City on Mandela in 1981, a full nine years before he became a free man in South Africa. At the time, apartheid South Africa maintained a consulate in the city on the fifth floor of the Stock Exchange building on St George's Place. In 1986, that street was renamed Nelson Mandela Place, meaning every letter sent to the regime’s consulate had Madiba’s name in the address. Genius.

In 1988, following the globally televised Nelson Mandela 70th Birthday Tribute concert at Wembley Stadium, the Anti-Apartheid Movement brought together 25 organisations, one for each year Mandela had spent in prison. The aim was to demonstrate the breadth of opposition to apartheid across the UK. Political parties, trade unions, youth organisations and churches all took part, alongside representatives from the ANC and SWAPO. Each organisation nominated one person to take part in a Long Walk for Freedom.

I was one of the 25.

Yes, that really is me, in 1988.

A route had been mapped from Glasgow to London, nearly 600 miles over six weeks. After attending the Wembley concert, we boarded a sleeper train from Euston to Glasgow Central, grabbed a shower and made our way to Glasgow Green. More music awaited us there, with the magnificent Simple Minds performing “Mandela Day” for 30,000 people who had gathered to see us off. Jim Kerr and the rest of the band could not have been more supportive. They say never meet your heroes. Utter tosh.

Then we set off, covering around ten miles a day, every day (most days more) for six weeks. We had just two days off. Everywhere we stopped, local Anti-Apartheid groups organised rallies, and we took turns addressing the crowds. In some places, town and city councils held receptions in our honour. In others, the welcome was less enthusiastic.

Over those six weeks we formed deep bonds and developed enormous respect for one another. We were marshalled by Simon Osborne, known to all of us as Os, and I was delighted to see him at the statue unveiling. He hadn't changed a bit.

Six weeks later, slightly weary and limping a little but full of excitement, we arrived in London on 17 July. A crowd of 250,000 people greeted us in Hyde Park. It remains the largest anti-apartheid demonstration ever held in the UK.

And then it was over.

We all went our separate ways, and many of us have barely been in touch since. Yet the experience left an indelible mark on me. It helped make me a runner, admittedly a slightly less obsessive now than I was. I can still belt out Nkosi Sikelel' iAfrika as we sang it every day before we set off. Most importantly, it taught me that small steps can make a big difference.

I rarely think about the Freedom March these days. But standing in the rain at the unveiling of Glasgow's Mandela statue, it all came flooding back.