Tag Archives: Soccer City

effin’ fifa: a rant.

The World Cup shenanigans will conclude this weekend.

Most thought I was delirious for booking a flight home only a week into the World Cup. In hindsight, I would have loved to stay longer; watching World Cup matches from home, so far removed from the delightful drone of vuvuzelas (other than my own), has been the source of substantial doses of nostalgia. I watch games in Nelspruit, Rustenburg, Polokwane, Pretoria, Cape Town and Jozi and I think, I was there. Damnit, why am I not there?

But really, I’m even more curious as to what it will be like come Monday (or soon thereafter), when the World Cup frenzy—virtually inescapable in the months leading up to the event—dissipates. In preceding months, Zakumi’s image blared from billboards along highways across the country. Countdowns on front page banners of newspapers served as daily reminders: The World Cup was 60 days away; and then it was 16 days away. And before we knew it, it was upon us. Flags of participating nations hung in front of B&Bs. Restaurants and bars redecorated, professing their loyalty to all 32 competing countries at once.

So when the flags disappear, then what?

The not-so-optimistic answer: Shit’s gonna hit the fan. This I heard from co-workers, university students, fellow patrons. Some disagreed, but the majority consented: The World Cup brought with it a euphoria that wouldn’t last, they said. South Africa’s problems hadn’t disappeared. Spin doctors successfully constructed a facade of a new and improved South Africa, but it was just that. A facade. Sure, the airports were prettier. The new Gautrain efficiently shuttled visitors from OR Tambo International Airport to the wealthier, stereotypically suburban suburbs and then onto Pretoria. Cities sported new, freshly paved roads. But there is another South Africa that many visitors never saw, and officials made sure of it. Pathways to and from the stadiums are tunnels of illusion, depicting one South Africa. Visit parts of Soweto, Alexandra, Khayelitsha and Masiphumelele, and you’ll witness another.

Many of the challenges that plagued the pre-World Cup South Africa will continue post-World Cup: a socioeconomically divided population; a crumbling education system; an unemployment rate that’s up to three times that of the U.S.

And if I just sound like I have a chip on my shoulder, John Pilger’s tirade and this CNN article provide a comparatively well-substantiated argument. He cites many of the accounts I heard myself while in South Africa. Like the story of 20,000 Joe Slovo settlement residents who were threatened with eviction because they live near the main motorway between Cape Town and the city’s airport.

For five-and-a-half years, Hellen sold pap, meat and vegetables to passersby. On average, she earned R100 a day, which she collected in old Peter Stuyvesant cigarette containers. Her food stand was located across the street from Soccer City. I interviewed her and several others, who hoped that the World Cup would translate to added revenue, more R10 notes to fill those cigarette containers. No such luck. FIFA rules commanded that she, along with thousands of street vendors throughout South Africa, must pack up and move out. They missed out on the World Cup boom because a line of shops erected using dingy green tarp and scavenged street signs would sully the view of the stadium, taint the illusion.

I hope that the World Cup brings great things for South Africa, that the promise of foreign investment materializes, that Mzansi finds itself on the global radar. I hope this optimism isn’t naïve. I hope that shit doesn’t hit the fan.

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traffic jamz.

I’m now the proud owner of an illegitimate Bafana Bafana jersey, purchased out of a trash bag in the backroom of an inconspicuous store somewhere in the CBD. I bought it for only R100, thanks to my South African (and more importantly, Zulu-speaking) photographer friend who accompanied me; mlungus obviously don’t fare too well on their own when it comes to getting a noteworthy deal.

Without the highlighter yellow jersey, I would have been horribly conspicuous at Thursday’s soccer game, where South Africa played Colombia at Soccer City stadium.

I’m not discounting the environment at the stadium, but the drive there was undoubtedly the best part. We joined a battalion of vehicles, all destined for Soccer City. A colony of ants, we approached the stadium from all directions. The resulting gridlock led anxious, excited and intoxicated revelers to move their celebration onto the streets. Fans rolled down their windows. With great gusto, they blew their vuvuzelas* and waved their South African flags. Restless passengers abandoned their vehicles and began running through the maze of cars, flags in tow. One driver decided that he couldn’t fight the urge and rushed for the nearest bush. And hooting musicians adopted a language of their own, creating a cacophony of song with their vuvuzelas.

Cars decided to disregard road signs, overtaking the lanes for oncoming traffic and making it virtually impossible for the stray car traveling in the opposite direction to get anywhere. Finally, we parked in a makeshift lot, manned by a self-appointed parking attendant who claimed a plot of land on the side of the road as his own. He charged each car R30 and must have made a decent amount of rand that night.

Soccer City stadium itself is gorgeous; its lit windows look like a constellation of stars against the night sky.  The environment at the stadium was also filled with great fanfare, as vuvuzelas blasted rhythmically and supporters chanted. As for the game, I was pretty clueless (Soccer 101, Faizan? k thanks). Bafana Bafana won, but I can’t tell you much more than this.

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*The vuvuzela is a plastic trumpet, and some will also tell you it is South Africa’s not-so-secret weapon at the World Cup. Actually, blowing it correctly requires more skill and technique than one would think (oh, stop it, you dirty-minded masses). When successfully blown, it emits a loud disconcerting foghorn-type sound that—anywhere else—would make me want to rip my ears off. But at South African soccer games, it’s AWESOME. There’s also nonsensical talk of banning them at the World Cup based on claims that they can be distracting for players, coaches and referees. Supposedly, they can also damage hearing. Still, I say it’s worth the risk. So what if World Cup goers slam Fifa with lawsuits for damaging their hearing? (Yes, Fifa is legitimately concerned about this.)

At the 2009 Confederations Cup, Spain midfielder Xabi Alonso requested that Fifa ban the noisemakers:”Those trumpets? That noise, I don’t like. It is not distracting, but it is not nice to have a noise like that.”

My personal suggestion: Alonso, wear earplugs.