In the summer of 1993, under threat of South Africa becoming another brutal, protracted African civil war, General Constand Viljoen — leader of the swastika bannered right-wing Boer resistance — sat down with a slight man, who poured him a cup of tea.

The man, who was the leader of the African National Congress, would stave off war between South Africa's black majority and Viljoen's well armed and fervent army. During that meeting the man explained the situation quite simply: We can fight for years, neither of us winning, or we can move forward together in search of a peace that might work.

The pair would chart a course for the reconciliation of South Africa over the remainder of the decade. That man was obviously Nelson Mandela. On July 18th, he will turn 90 years old. He is quite frail, hard of hearing and sleeps a good deal of the day. He awakes early in the morning, calls the director of the Mandela Foundation in Cape Town and then retires for a nap.

Nearly 10 years have passed since Mandela left office. But his maneuvering, to both avert civil war and shepherd his country from anarchy to democracy, remains one the great political feats of the last century.

But what I've witnessed of South Africa suggests that the legacy of apartheid remains more vehement than most will admit. It exists in the form of racism and inequality, but mostly as structural violence. Universities, modes of travel, and — most importantly — geographic segregation keep more than a whisper of the state's heinous tradition in place. And, just as importantly, it keeps the nation from advancing. The poor simply lack the capacity to interact with those outside their sphere. Townships remain confining entities; those who can't afford cars simply don't have the capacity to witness, let alone work or advance within the world of wealthy white South Africans. The black political leaders of the nation are often recognized as children of Western education, as those who have misplaced native allegiances or never had them to begin with.

Crime and poverty continue unabated, and the nation's abundant resources — the world's largest exporter of platinum, gold and chromium — have failed to lift the broader economy. I'm brought back to meeting a South African businessman in Amman, Jordan recently who suggested his love for traveling in the Middle East was partially rooted in safety. He said he could never feel as safe walking the streets of Johannesburg as he did in Amman, Damascus or Cairo. Rising crime rates have led to major concerns, some even made publicly by the president of FIFA, in regards to moving the 2010 World Cup out of South Africa.

Thabo Mbeki, Mandela's successor as head of the ANC and president of the nation, has unequivocally lacked the vision, political ability, and even basic rationality that his predecessor exhibited. Mbeki long questioned the link between HIV and AIDS and has kept close medical advisors who dispute the value of anti-retroviral drugs and instead espouse regiments of vitamins. His health minister, Manto Tshabalala-Msimang, advocates the use of beetroot, garlic, lemons and African potatoes as treatment.

South Africa has the capacity to be middle power fighting to join the ranks of the world's premiere states. Instead, it languishes in the postpartum depression of nation birth. "White" parts of Cape Town boast some of the most gorgeous homes, cars and landscapes in the world. It has never has been asked, however, nor shown, how to lift its countrymen to similar prosperity. Ironically, it sits a few miles from some of the world's worst urban ghettoes.

Elements of Mandela's revolutionary zeal persist. There are plans to mark his birthday with union-led protests in Mandela city over the rising of food and fuel prices and the government's lack of efforts to protect the poor from fluctuations in the troubled markets.

The state's preeminent HIV-related NGO also continues the legacy, singing adapted anti-apartheid songs at marches and rallies. The group, known as the Treatment Action Campaign — which I worked with in 2005 — uses both legal action and massive public demonstration to highlight injustice and inconsistence in HIV treatment.

On this occasion I'm also reminded of a conversation I had with a member of the ANC and former prison mate of Mandela's at Robben Island, an Alcatraz-like jail off the shore of Cape Town. "We brought the ANC to power," he said, "but we aren't afraid to take it out of power if it forgets what it stands for."

While there's little chance of a coup within the leadership, there's also little disputing that the ANC has morphed a great deal. One wonders if a change of order is necessary, if someone else might need to take up Mandela's mantle and start moving South Africa — once again — down a path towards the dreams that once guided it.

Brian Till can be contacted at [email protected]. To find out more about the author and read features by other Creators Syndicate writers and cartoonists, visit the Creators Syndicate website at www.creators.com.