THE STREETS of Johannesburg are noisy and jubilant with the sound of foreign voices that are supposed to “send ripples of confidence from the Cape to Cairo”.
That was the aspiration of the president Thebo Mbeki in a letter he wrote to Sepp Blatter in 2003 when South Africa was pressing hard for the bid that, when successfully awarded a year later, made Nelson Mandela weep and declare that he felt like “a boy of 15.”
Mandela, as ever, hit the perfect pitch in his public address on the latest sporting triumph for South Africa. That perpetual pull towards youthfulness is the main reason why half the population of the world is fascinated by the World Cup.
Staging this tournament has made it seem as if the vast continent had been magically reset with coordinates that will make it the epicentre of the planet for the next month.
In previous decades, the major cities in South Africa only felt the hot lights of other continents shining down upon them for reasons of conflict, disgrace and the enduring liberation of Mandela.
This is different. Being chosen to host the World Cup was a nod of international prestige this wildly energetic and uneven nation badly sought and that has brought its own pressures and joys and inevitable rows.
The central question is whether shelling out multi-billions in Rand for an ephemeral event is financially sensible or morally correct in a country burdened with inestimable numbers of people living in the twilight of a country famed for its vivid beauty.
Sirens sounded throughout the city yesterday but only to announce the latest arrival of an international football team or an emissary from the world of politics or entertainment being escorted behind shaded windows. Many of the fans arriving in the city for the first time migrated towards Nelson Mandela square. The odd thing is a landmark that has achieved an international name is tiny: many towns in the Irish midlands boast more extravagant public meeting places.
It is dominated by a towering copper figure of the great man in laughing mode, presiding over a series of pristine shopping malls and restaurants.
On the small plaza, a group of guys going through a routine of sublime skills with a football quickly drew a large and enthusiastic gathering. They were ridiculously good and invited admiring fans to try and take the football off them, effortlessly bamboozling them until a burly Argentinian lost patience and executed a clattering, unmerciful challenge which would earn notoriety if it is repeated in the matches over the coming weeks.
“I enjoy the attention – as you can see,” confessed Chris Njoawana when he took a break on the steps, wiping perspiration from his brow. Njowana is in his early 20s and was sufficiently skilful at football to get on to the Ajax-Cape Town books before he decided to concentrate on freestyle football.
“These guys came to my township to give a performance when I was about 15. There was an old guy in his 50s doing these tricks and they were just incredible. And I felt that if he could do this, then I could too if I put in the work. If you work real hard, people will appreciate what you do. When I first started, I was practising for six and seven hours a day but now I do so many shows that I just have to keep extending my skills.”
He will perform in street shows and Fifa concerts throughout the tournament and doesn’t hesitate when asked if he thinks South Africa is ready for a tournament of this magnitude at this period in its evolution.
“Oh, it has been the right time for quite a few years. I think we are more than ready to come and host it and I hope it comes back here before too long.
“I think South Africa will do quite well because the country will be behind this. We won the bid six years ago and the work that has been done recently should have started then. The kids in the township aren’t getting looked after as they should be – the playing fields are still more out in the suburbs but Fifa are trying hard now and the pitches are beginning to appear.
“To say they are doing enough, I don’t know. But it is a start.”
The road from OR Tambo airport sweeps past the teeming township of Alexandria and just after 5am on Tuesday morning, the edges of the dimly lit roads were already busy with people walking, beginning their long commute to work in the prosperous enclaves of the city. They ghosted across the road and were difficult to see in the headlights and were hurrying towards concerns that almost certainly had nothing to do with the pleasures of the World Cup.
It remains to be seen if the forgotten class will truly be included in this tournament. Even before the tournament begins, the recriminations have started. The Mail Guardian newspaper has engaged in a legal battle to secure documents of World Cup tenders which, it argues, indicate that Fifa laid out its stipulations and the hosts meekly accepted.
On the back pages, the absence of Benni McCarthy, one of the most high profile South African players, continues to divide opinion. But Fifa can bet these complaints will be forgotten once the rush and emotion of the tournament takes hold on Friday. In scale, it will eclipse the historic 1995 Rugby World Cup.
Chris Njowana was just a child then and hadn’t touched a rugby ball but he can easily recall the significance of that event.
“I kind of remember it. Like, it was just a year after we – well not we but the society was liberated so there was a lot of tension at the time but the World Cup did unify a lot of cultures here and it was really, really needed at the time. Then the year after that, Africa won the Cup of Nations – we hosted it and won it and it was kind of like reinforced the idea of a new Africa. So you can see now that all races come together for this World Cup.”
Decades ago, it was commonplace for African teams to engage the services of healers known as Izinyanaga to promote the kind of superstitions that still have their place in football today. The practice was later widely discredited and discontinued but those old rituals may have presaged the event that is taking place here this week. For what is the World Cup if not an exercise in sorcery and make-believe that somehow manages to suspend everyday troubles and worries?
The matter of whether South Africa is ready no longer matters. South Africa must be ready. Bafana Bafana, the nickname for the national team, is Zulu for “The Boys.”
What a time for them. They are going to have to play out of their skins.
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