World Cup Day 31: Ke Nako!!!!

The World Cup is done. I am writing this the day after from the OR Tambo International Airport where my first flight is already delayed, and I am looking at the possibility of a few nights in Addis Ababa if we cannot make up the time and get me to my connecting flight, which leaves an hour or so after this flight arrives.As I look around I see tired masses, bleary eyed from celebrating or commiserating or simply being a part of this circus that swept into South Africa over the last month.

The World Cup finals hardly needs my salesmanship. It’s arguably the single most important, if that word is apt, sporting event in the world. The viewership for the Spain-Netherlands game was in the hundreds of millions, perhaps close to a billion. (To end the suspense I picked Netherlands 2-1 — obviously Spain’s 1-0 victory serves as one final reminder that you should always bet the other direction of how I guess.)

Melville was full of an electric energy as kickoff approached. I would not say it was packed, though just about every bar and restaurant that had a flat screen — to my knowledge all of them — was full. The already flush business owners in the area did very well for themselves. Melville is worlds removed from Soweto, but is actually only a few miles as the crow flies, and so  that energy really was everywhere. At the same time, as I’ve written before, I am increasingly convinced that the peoples’ World Cup really takes place in the group rounds, and that the closer the finals are the more it takes on the form of a typical sporting championship — the biggest in the world, to be sure, but more like a Super Bowl than not. There is a festive atmosphere, but only two fan groups are fully invested in it. The rest are along for the ride. In the group stages, everyone is much more a part of it, and there is a far greater range of fans, of craziness, and of excess.

After soaking in the atmosphere for a while — drunk, happy Spanish fans, and drunk, sad Dutch fans — I headed back to my guesthouse, clipped some final articles from the day’s papers (I am leaving with a pretty massive stack of clippings and other sources to fuel my research), packed up, and started gearing up for the long trip home. In the coming days I will attempt to make sense of all of this, as well as to begin piecing together thoughts for some writing I am going to do about South Africa’s, Africa’s, World Cup, for both academic and general audiences.

All I know right now is that I’m among the exhausted but happy (save perhaps for the Dutch) masses. This was a wonderful event. There were glitches here and there, but South Africa pulled it off and did so spectacularly. The country has every reason to be proud, and maybe even a bit sad as the planeloads of foreign visitors go back to rave about their South African adventures and their gracious, kind, generous, friendly hosts, to annoy friends and family with their vuvuzela skills (I admit, I caved and bought one today in a bit of a spending frenzy — my last minute gifts, a few things for myself, and a pile of books for my work, and now my South Africa flag-inspired vuvuzela which will probably never even touch my lips.)

I’m going to steal an idea from the fine blogger Texas in Africa and say that while I am missing my Texas home, it won’t be long before I miss South Africa again. before I get that yearning to be back in this land that I so love, that has become such a part of who I am and want to be, and that I have come in small part to claim as my own. One of the catch phrases of this World Cup was “ke nako,” “it’s time.” The last month was South Africa’s time. It was Africa’s time. It was, it is, as the ubiquitous song goes, time for Africa.