The World Cup is now approaching its climax. And who would have thought that Brazil, France, Italy and Argentina would bite the dust? In fact who would have thought that South Africa would pull it off? As for Brazil I thought they were just too full of themselves and deserved everything that was coming to them. Ghana on the other hand did us proud even though they left the stage rather unfairly.
Incredibly, I found myself in the midst of it all, driving all the way from Francistown to Rustenburg if not just to smell it. Well I did and saw it too besides feeling it. This came courtesy of a friend from Sweden who landed at the reconstructed Sir Seretse Khama International Airport to watch some of the games even though his home country wasn’t in the thick of it. That is what I call a football fanatic.
Leif Lindström is no ordinary soccer fan. For one he is 60 years old but does not look his age. He has been involved with Orebrö SK, the big team in his native city of in the region of Nårike. So much about geography and to cut a long story short, I find myself in Rustenburg and the World Cup hits me full in the face. It’s the afternoon of the match between Mexico and Uruguay and this little Afrikaner town is abuzz. I can’t imagine how it was like when the English were here.
Reminds me so much of Bulawayo, only that they are more white faces I meet than black. The roads are jam packed and our guest had to fetch his ticket from some centre before working his way to the park and ride from where he was to board a bus to the Royal Bafokeng Stadium. I have to hand it to these forward thinking Bafokeng tribesmen.
Kgosi August Mokgatle, who reigned from 1834 to 1891 started buying land his people had occupied for centuries and 33 years after his death, the world's largest deposits of platinum group metals were discovered under Bafokeng land! They were then able to lease their mineral rights and eventually to claim royalties which they used to build a stadium way before South Africa won the bid to host the world’s greatest showcase.
Now, their investment has brought the world’s soccer stars right to their doorstep and dignitaries such as Bill Clinton and Mick Jagger (know the guy don’t you?) It’s like having Barack Obama at Barbourfields Stadium a stone’s throw from Makokoba! Now who can beat that for planning? Fast forward to Tuesday 22 June and I discovered that there was no way I could drive to marvel at this wonder. It seemed as if everyone and their grandmothers were driving there.
Perish the thought; I did not have a ticket for the game anyway. So my next best hope was to look for the nearest fan pack a catch the Bafana Bafana game against France. The proverbial last kick of a dying horse I presumed right. First, we have to drive Leif to the ticket centre and his hosts in Rustenberg and to think that I had not learnt my lesson in Joburg! Without that ingenious gadget called the GPS we got lost again.
Waterfalls Mall is known to all in this town but none was able to guide us straight to the darned place. It took us another agonising 30 minutes to get there if you take the fact that it was already 20 minutes to the start of the game. Don’t even ask me what hue Leif had taken on for a complexion. Let’s just say flaming red to be conservative. As an African, I was satisfied with getting to Rustenburg in one piece.
If we had not been delayed at the Tlokweng border post because Leif had two passports (in Sweden they are super efficient by the way) and the fact that we had to endure two super roadblocks were the cops searched for ‘firearms’ we would have made it with enough time for an African bath for our visitor. But we all have to thank the World Cup and Bheki Cele, police commissioner, and his storm-troopers that we were not carjacked instead! If only these guys could sustain such enthusiasm after the soccer spectacle.
We eventually dropped off our guest at the Waterfall mall and later got it from him that he got into the stadium 20 minutes into the game. He should have been glad to have watched the game alive at least! So off us plebeians went to look for the fan park were the rest of mankind in Rustenburg were watching their heroes. We got there after driving around aimlessly and by the grace of God bumping into the place.
I should mention that South Africa scored both their goals while we were still looking for our bearings. At least the radio was on and we enjoyed the spectacle of those locals who were unfortunate enough to be at work making fools of themselves, jumping up and down with delight. That was the time I wished I was a South African, because the feeling must have been something else. At that point I wondered whether that is how I behaved when my team Highlanders score.
The Fan Park was located at Fields School and we were made to park our car some kilometres from the venue. It weren’t for the colourful characters that were rushing to the place because the home team scored, I would have given up and driven to Hartbeespoort were we were to retire for the night. But what we found there was incredible. A sea of people of all races, colours and stations in life were brought together in the ecstasy of victory.
The fact that the South African team was knocked out was lost on this crowd. As I have stated elsewhere, that this World Cup has not just been another sporting event. It has changed this blessed country for ever. Blessed in the sense that they had such leaders as Nelson Mandela, whose countenance and very act of reconciliation softened the hearts of his former oppressors.
Well, I saw nothing of those hard hearts here. What I witnessed were whites whose cars were festooned with the national flag and wearing the South African team jersey. When Bafana Bafana scored, they celebrated and hugged their black compatriots. It was hard not to be patriotic during an event were so many nationalities flaunted their national identities with such passion and aplomb.
The Mexicans had their sombreros, the English, well, quaffed their beer, The Ghanains, Nigerians, Ivorians had their masks and drums, the Brazilians had their samba and the Dutch stole in strangely smuggled in German Bavarian beer. They could have used some timely advice from Highlanders supporters on this. And of course, AbeZansi had the ubiquitous vuvuzela which has spawned a culture that is sure to change the culture of the game.
If this World Cup has not done anything significant for the locals as some critics would want us to believe, I can be witness to the glaring fact that the world’s most beautiful game has brought the people of South Africa together. I was there and I felt it!
No comments:
Post a Comment