World Cup: A chance of a lifetime indeed

GIDEON NKALA
Staff Writer | Friday June 18, 2010 00:00

The stakes are even higher when a football lover gets to see the World Cup opening match. I do not know how a Muslim feels after making that trip to Mecca or a Zion Christian Church (ZCC) member feels after the Easter trip to the Holy City of Moria, the feelings might not be the same but the satisfaction that you get after attending the pinnacle of football frenzy is up there with any other contentment.

The World Cup opening match brings together multitudes of football gods, Political leaders - cians and a myriad of spectators all lined up in a ritual to kick-start the world biggest spectacle. The opening game is fanfare supreme and as hosts of the 2010 World Cup, the South Africans had pulled out all the stops to ensure that this opening ceremony was Ayoba.

The trip to the World Cup opening game was unlikely until just three days before the opening when a call from Sesupo Wagamang of Coca Cola ensured that Mmegi would be part of the opening festivities.

On Thursday morning I hurl my small sportsbag into the hallways of the newly opened Sir Seretse Khama International Airport terminal building. Outside the new building the yellow monsters are menacingly tearing down the small drabby white building that under a month ago was the terminal building. The ferocity of the earth-movers as they raze down the building is as if they are in a hurry to bring it down and erase the memory that had symbolised Botswana's mediocrity. For decades this building that a friend calls 'ntlo ya polata' has been the edifice of Botswana's progress to the visitors who come and go through the Sir Seretse Khama International Airport. The new building signals some ambition, it is spacious and has some of the state of the art security systems. Curiously the monitors that are used to announce the status of the flights are smaller, perhaps even smaller than the ones used at the old building.

On this Thursday morning, the weather is foul and you feel the biting cold as the entrance doors, which are permanently opened allow in the windy chill. Even in my World Cup spirit I cannot help but see what is without doubt an omission. Why is this new airport building not fitted with automatic doors, at least at the main entrance?It is a day before the World Cup kicks off and I had expected that the airport would be teeming with people.

Surprisingly the flights are not full and we get free seating. Coca Cola (Botswana) is sponsoring a total of 17 Batswana including four people who won tickets in their 'you and who' competition and their partners.

For some of these this is not just about attending the World Cup opening game, for some this will be their first experience outside the borders of Botswana and the cherry on top will be their first flying experience Johannesburg-Gaborone is not a lot of air mileage but to the first timers this is an intriguing and an enthralling thrill even if it lasts just 40 minutes. Before I could gulp down a few sips of De Luc mineral water offered as on board treat the SAA flight 033 has already begun its descent into the Oliver Tambo International Airport.

As the plane touches down you can see the World Cup fever on the buildings, roofs, street poles and even other planes are wearing the World Cup Paraphernalia on their sleeve. At the immigration arrival section there is a specific line to cater for World Cup travellers. The queues are long but they are moving briskly thanks to the machine-readable systems that the South African immigration have installed. The lines are only halted when someone comes with a manual passport that seems to be out of sync with the system.

I am a proud owner of this dinosaur passport  and immediately I present the passport you can tell the look of dejection on the face of the woman at the desk. I thought she was going to mouth some expletives about me and my government to abandon the relic documents and move ahead with the times.

After labouring for what seemed like eternity she hands back the object of her inconvenience back to me and I amble my way into a bubbly arrival hall, which is pervaded by incessant vuvuzela drones. Many are in the yellow Bafana Bafana stripes but hordes of Mexican fans are arriving in numbers wearing mostly the green replica shirts usually worn by the Mexican national team.

''The Mexicans will make a huge statement with Bafana Bafana,'' I mutter under my breath.

Kopanong Hotel ResortThe benefactor on this trip is Coca Cola who have hired a whole resort in Benoni for guests. There the guests' list resembles a meeting of the African Union (AU). There are guests from Namibia, Zambia, Zimbabwe, Malawi, Kenya, Burundi, Swaziland, Mozambique, Lesotho, and the Seychelles. Before we can even see the beautiful chalets that we were going to lodge in at this resort we are welcomed to the hospitality suite where we do not only eat but the frothy stuff is available too.

Echoes of the past flash into my mind. The whole environment reminds me of the Independence Day  and end of year media cocktail  parties at State House during the presidency of Festus Mogae - how I miss those times. In limited hours as guests of the State House people used to drink themselves into a stupor before the cellars at the state house could close. No one from Coca Cola was on hand to reassure people that they would be no curfew on the drinks and the result was that some people's night was cut short prematurely.

For dinner the organisers chose one of Johannesburg top rendezvous, the Emperor's Palace, otherwise known as Caesar's Palace and synonymous for its expansive and well known gambling tables. Tribes Restaurant was a perfect choice to end the night over a sumptuous meal with African tribesmen from all over the sub-continent.

Many had wanted to attend the FIFA World Cup concert at Orlando Stadium, which was the precursor to all the festivities. Television monitors dotted around Emperor's Palace beamed the concert live but many had found ways of throwing themselves into this place that never sleeps. At midnight we are reluctantly 'dragged' to the waiting buses to Kopanong.

The excitement on the morning of Friday reached fever pitch. We all wanted to go to the stadium and arrive before the traffic congestion could start. Thanks to the hospitality suite and the consumable sedatives provided no one seemed to be impatient to leave even though the roads seemed to be clogging with traffic as the hours went by. By noon about four big Marcopolo buses left the Kopanong Resort for the Soccer City Stadium where everything was happening.

You ought to admire the preparation and the enthusiasm with which the South Africans had embraced the World Cup. Almost everyone was wearing a Bafana Bafana jersey. On the roads leading to the stadium groups of people stood by the roadside and waved, danced and blew vuvuzelas as cars sped past to the Stadium. The World Cup fervour caught up with everyone. What was supposed to be a short journey of about 30 minutes takes well over two hours. Roads are congested and even little diversionary routes are clogged.

After passing through a meticulous security of scanners, detectors and a physical body search I am into the Soccer City Stadium, a piece of architectural art designed in the mould of an African Calabash. For the duration of the match I shall be a resident of Entrance R Block 127, Row G seat 16. This $ 450 ticket is after all a ringside ticket.I am only six seats away from where the action is happening. The atmosphere is electric. Although the stand is shared by both Mexican fans and some Bafana Bafana, supporters the ambience is touching.

Immediately behind my seat  is a South African man of Indian extraction. I do not remember talking to this gentleman or sharing any pleasantries with him before the game but when Siphiwe Tshabalala scored the goal that threw Soccer City Stadium into rapturous celebrations someone just pulled me from behind and before I could ask what was going on I was locked in a celebratory embrace with this man that I did not know. Only when the celebrations died down I noticed tears of joy snaking down his cheeks.

Without asking me he took my red Coca Cola vuvuzela and blew hard into it with me cheering him on. He was visibly hurt as many in the Stadium were when Mexico levelled matters through Raphael Marquez. I do not remember seeing him at the end of the match as we all rushed to catch buses and beat the evening traffic but his love for his team and friendship was symbolic and representative the cohesive bond that football brings out of humanity.

South Africa has a lot of variety and diversity to show to the world. Dinner tonight is at the Grill House in Rosebank. While munching through Kingklip fish I watch the sunset power of Football-France- labouring to a one-all draw with Uruguay. I place my napkin on the table and move upstairs where a two-man band is playing some oldies. I tap my feet to Kool and the Gang's Get Down On It and croon to the Commodores' Night Shift. Just when I am warming up to the night bus drivers downstairs say their shift has come to an end and we have to troop to Kopanong Hotel Resort.

Most excursions into the commercial capital of South Africa, especially by visitors from the sub-continent would never end without an opportunity to shop. On Sunday morning we head for East Gate mall for some shopping.

On the way I am sitting next to an elderly Namibian woman. Perhaps as way to kill time we engage in this and that. She eventually tells me and another colleague that she does not own a television set. Of course this is not the type of person who needs a donation from the Salvation Army or the Red Cross. She has in our previous conversation mentioned that before she leaves South Africa she will have to go and see a special horse that she is going to buy her husband of 30 years the kind that I am told could cost a cool one million rand or even more.

Richard, the South African tour guide, is obviously stung by the revelation that someone with the means does not have a television set and in the process deprives their children an opportunity to watch television and movies.''Why cant you just buy a TV and a DVD player they do not cost much?

The Namibian woman explains that it is not about costs but because she and her husband believe that TV is a distraction, not only to their children but to all who want to read, study and focus on the important areas. Without television she says they are able to develop in their children good habits such as reading and studying.

It is not as if they are leading a dull life. She tells me that she has a soft spot for Botswana because this is where she met her husband during one of the Independence Day celebrations, which she attended at the invitation of the late founding First Lady Ruth Khama.

'Thirty years of marriage he still melts me.'

As we disembark from this bus into the East Gate mall we can only smile but Richard jokingly warns us that a challenge had been thrown at us.

In a minute we all disappear into the Jozi shopping crowd. When we emerge two hours later we each come with shopping bags that tell different stories. Some have bought their children presents, others bought gifts for their partners but others aware of the commodities that are expensive to buy back bring the necessary stuff. Some had bought litres of cooking oil.

It is only the soulful ballads at Rodizio Brazilian Restaurant that helped to ebb away the thoughts of African misrule, which does not allow citizens to enjoy an excursion but to be thinking about the deprivation at home.

Rodizio goes wicked when the man at the turntables puts on Shakira's famed World Cup official song, Waka Waka. Everyone is on the dance floor.

Waka! Waka! Eh eh!This time is for Africa!It is lunchtime but nobody seems to care as the dance floor is teeming with dancers whose enzymes seemed to have been playing second fiddle to the dancing shoes.

As we feast to Brazilian culinary delight we feast our eyes on the football on the screen.

After attending the opening match at Soccer City we felt that one way of soaking in the World Cup atmosphere will be to attend a fan park and we went to the Sandton Fan park where Nigeria were playing against Diego Maradona's Argentina.  

The fans have come in numbers, the kind of numbers that you get at a Centre Chiefs and Township Rollers game. The Nigerians have a very strong presence and most Africans here root for Nigeria. Over the years I have always supported the Argentinean football team but something tells me that I have to be politically correct and support my brothers from another mother. It is a difficult proposition when Lionel Messi, that football magician is in the park. I tried to be politically correct although I believe I failed dismally whenever Messi had the ball glued to his feet.

The atmosphere is raucous. It is an outdoor experience worth repeating.

The Nigerians are trailing to a Gabriel Hienze header and Peter Odemwinge is waiting on the touchline to be brought in and the Sandton fan park goes wild as the Nigerians whistle in great anticipation. '' Aha, there comes the machine. There comes the machine. He is going to score!'' announces the Nigerian man sitting beside me.

It is one-nil when we troop out of the fan park and the belief is that Nigeria has not been humiliated.We are off to Moyo Restaurant where will watch a football encounter between the political power of yesterday (England) and the modern political power (United States of America).

Moyo's is different, it has this African appeal about it. Too bad the weather is foul outside,  thus depriving us the pleasure to experience the outdoor areas that makes one reminiscent of dinner under an African sky. Dinner is African, my brother from Zambia tells me that he had missed his nshima and he could not wait to scald his fingers on the mound of phaleche and seshabo.

On the big screen, England captain Steven Gerard has just stroked the ball past advancing USA goalkeeper Tim Howard and this brought down the roof of Moyo's. As a Liverpool supporter I am thrilled it is Gerard who scored but I am not sure if I support England. The other part of me says I should support an under-dog and the USA is an underdog and this is only challenged when Jamie Carragher, Gerard or Johnson have the ball. I am indifferent when Clinton Dempsey of USA scores. There are cheers.

''When I get older , I will be stronger.

Like a waving flag, a waving flag'

The music blares from the speakers as we leave Moyo's. On the bus back to the hotel I ask Onkemetse, a Coca Cola ticket winner from Ramotswa about her experiences.

Which one of these firsts will be your most valuable experience ?

'The Soccer City is beautiful, there were many people. Johannesburg is big and beautiful. You see the experience on the plane was something else. I really cannot place all these in a pecking order.'To her the question is unfair, as Chinua Achebe says, it is like asking a parent which of their children they like best.

At the back of the bus a discussion about religion has ensued.'Look my brother before I started drinking I did my theology.' 'Listen to me you do not know your Bible, just listen.

'I cannot listen to you, you are drunk.'