In the past, most of my columns have dealt with politics. I've discussed communism and capitalism, political relations between East and West. I was under the impression that politics rules the world.

A few weeks ago in Eisenhower Auditorium, I learned this is not necessarily true.

e.e. cummings said, "A politician is an arse upon which everyone has sat except a man."

Politics does not rule the world. Certainly, it has power over people as a group. It enforces laws, decides what is best for that group, starts wars. But only individuals can really sway one's opinions. Reverend Desmond Tutu is one such individual.

In 45 minutes Tutu changed my view on human relations like no politician has ever done.

Excitement jars me from all sides as I wait in line outside Eisenhower. I'm pressed against people in front of me. I feel uncomfortable.

The doors open and the line disappears. Those waiting on Shortlidge Road run towards the steps and I barely make it through the door.

I find a seat on the first level and I think to myself, I'm glad I'm here. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity. Never once do I think about what he will say. I just want to see him. In front of me, a man reads the The New York Times and talks about stocks.

After countless introductions, Tutu finally steps onstage. He looks small.

His body is like a drum, straight with no chest or stomach and I realize he must be wearing a bulletproof vest. It amazes me that somewhere, someone wants this man dead.

He smiles, tells jokes, talks of home in Capetown. I feel like I know him. From the start, I know he is not a politician. He is a man sharing his feelings with us.

In his short speech, Tutu does not use political phrases like "economical stronghold," or "armed assault." He does not try to confuse us or drive his point into our heads.

He explains what sanctions are for those of us who do not know, or are confused about it, how some corporations have stopped supplying South Africa with their products in opposition of apartheid.

I had always heard two stories about sanctions. Some say we should not cut off supplies to South Africa because we'd be hurting those we want to help, that is, we would be pushing blacks out of their jobs at the factories.

I also heard that if we do not do something, anything, apartheid will go on for another hundred years.

Tutu explains that until recently, until he has begun to present his arguments to the world, no one showed the least bit of interest in the welfare of South African blacks.

Tutu says, "I'm not saying there are racists in the West, I'm just saying it's an incredible coincidence." We applaud him again and again.

But what strikes me most about the speech is Tutu's exit. A politician would have dealt differently with such approval from his audience. Nixon would have given a victory sign. Reagan would have raised his hands in the air like some kind of god.

Tutu outstretches his arms to us, as wide a gesture as he can make, and embraces us all, black and white together.

He walks off as he came on. Modest. Assured.

Three rows ahead of me, two black students raise their hands in clenched fists. I want more than anything to reach over to them and grab their hands. A white and a black fist.

Tutu's speech did move me to tears, but not until much later. Not until I bought a bumper sticker that read "abolish apartheid." A week later, on the highway, a white man screamed at me and gestured obscenely from his large Caddy.

I cried then, not only because there really are people out there who want Tutu dead, and not because among politicians and swindlers, there are only a few people who can reach us on the human level.

I cried because it was now my responsibility to do something about apartheid and the racism it represents.

As the man passed me on the highway, I remembered Tutu say that blacks and whites are like two prisoners shackled to each other, trying to climb out of a ditch of hatred.

For the first time, I felt that whites were not simply the guilty party. Most of us do want equality and more friendship between black and white.

For the first time, I felt I could do something and so I wrote this column and it's made me stronger.

No politician has ever made me feel this way. I applaud Reverend Tutu not only for his accomplishments in government but also for simply remaining true to himself, and others, in such a bitter world as ours.