How it felt to be at the 2010 World Cup
How it felt to be at the 2010 World Cup
How it felt to be at the 2010 World Cup
The World Cup in South Africa is all over bar the shouting. Spain are the world champions and deservedly so. Who would have thought that Brazil, Germany, France, or even 2006 winners Italy would bite the dust? In fact who would have thought that South Africa would pull it off? The tournament drew heavily on national pride to captivate hundreds of millions around the globe in the most-watched TV event ever.
Ghana, the hope of Africa was SUAREZed' out of contention rather dubiously courtesy of the hand this time of a Uruguayan god. The Brazilians, so full of themselves were their own worst enemies and in my opinion deserved everything that came to them.
Incredibly, I found myself in the midst of the excitement, having driven nearly 700 kilometres from Francistown, Botswana to Rustenburg if not just to have a sniff. It would not have been possible were in it not for Leif Lindstrm, my friend from Sweden who landed at the reconstructed Sir Seretse Khama International Airport in Gaborone to watch some of the games. Given the high costs of flying directly into Johannesburg, this was the cheaper option.
Leif is what one might call a soccer fanatic. Never mind the fact that his country didn't qualify. He is 60 years old though he does not look his age and has been involved with Orebr SK, the big team in his native city of in the region of Nrike. I could only lend a hand to a friend with whom I stayed in the cold climes of the northern hemisphere.
After a three hour drive we find ourselves in the platinum mining city of Rustenburg, in the North West province and the World Cup fever hit us full in the face. It was the afternoon of the match between Mexico and Uruguay and this usually sleepy Afrikaner backwater is literally buzzing with excitement. I can't imagine how it had been like when the English were here.
The roads were jammed with traffic snaking all the way to the Royal Bafokeng Stadium the venue of that day's game. One has to hand it to the forward thinking Bafokeng tribesmen for constructing the only community owned stadium to be used as a World Cup venue.
The story goes that King August Mokgatle, who reigned from 1834 to 1891, started buying the land his people had occupied for centuries from Afrikaner occupiers. As luck would have it, thirty three years after his death, the world's largest deposits of platinum group metals were discovered right under their feet! They then leased their mineral rights and eventually claimed royalties which they used to build a stadium among other developments to uplift the community.
To think that this was nearly a 100 years before South Africa won the bid to host the world's greatest showcase. Today this timely investment has brought the world's soccer stars along with dignitaries such as Bill Clinton and Mick Jagger right to the doorstep of the Bafokeng.
As we crawled our way into the city, we soon discovered that there was no way we could reach the stadium in this crush. It became obvious that our guest would miss the start of the game. It took us another agonising 30 minutes to get to the ticket selling point and without that ingenious gadget the GPS we got lost in the process.
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. Leif on the other hand was miffed at the fact that he was going to miss the kick off. To think that we had made it from Botswana to Rustenburg in record time, in spite of a 40 minute delay at the Tlokweng border post (because Leif had two passports) and the two police roadblocks we had to endure along the way.
You know how Swedes are when it comes to keeping time. At least the now flaming red complexioned Leif understood it wasn't because of the legendary African way of keeping time that delayed us. He made it into the Royal Bafokeng Stadium 20 minutes into the game. I on the other hand was glad we all made it in one piece.
Since I did not have a ticket for the live game, the next best bet for me to get into the world cup spirit of things was to look for the nearest fan park where the rest of mankind in Rustenburg were watching their heroes on a big screen. They were screening the Bafana Bafana (South Africa) game against the French where the host team was expected to deliver the proverbial last kick of a dying horse. South Africa had already failed to qualify into the next round and the game was purely academic, though for the locals it was a matter of national pride.
I got lost for the second time that day looking for the fan park and South Africa scored one of their two goals while I was still finding my bearings. It was only by the grace of the Big Man above after driving around aimlessly too scared to ask for directions that I stumbled on the carnival at Fields School. If it weren't for droves of colourful characters flowing in that direction blowing their vuvuzela, I would have given up.
An incredible sea of people of all races, colours and stations in life brought together by their support of the national team mixed and mingled and I witnessed whites with their cars festooned with the national flag and wearing the South African team jersey. When Bafana Bafana scored, they celebrated and hugged their black compatriots.
For a country still grappling with incidents of racial dissonance it was refreshing to witness such public displays of patriotism and togetherness. Coming from Zimbabwe, a country wreaked by the dire consequences of racial disharmony it was a moving experience. The fact that the South African team had already been knocked out was evidently lost on this crowd.
For the locals this World Cup has not been about winning and not just another sporting event either. It has been about national pride, being able to show the world what they were capable of. It has been about regaining the magic of the rainbow nation that had begun to fade and in this South Africans are blessed in the sense that they have such leaders as Nelson Mandela who defied age to make an emotional appearance at the closing ceremony.
Mandela's countenance and very unselfish act of reconciliation softened even hearts of stone at independence. The World Cup has helped to rekindle that spirit that is sure to change Mzansi forever. I can be witness to the fact that the world's most beautiful game has brought the people of South Africa together again. This might sound a bit schmaltzy for some yet perceptions, attitudes as well as the way in which people relate to each other have indeed changed. I was there; I saw it and most definitely felt it! Halala Mzansi Halala!
Build An Expanding Table - An Inexpensive Solution ! Angora Yarn: Part Of The Recent Knitting Trend Divya Sanjivani Vati for immune system booster Dont Give Up! HTC Desire : cheaper than the cheapest contract deals Let The Vitamin D Shine In A Guide On How To Buy The Best Tires For Your Car When you should Consider Curtain Cleaning Exploring Table Mountain Can You Overdo Acetaminophen? Is the Luminox Navy SEAL Dive Watch a Good Gift Idea? Inteligator Investigate Program Using Passivation to protect your metal