south africa

Biltong is beef jerky. So that's a bar that serves beef jerky and coffee.

I can't figure out whether South Africans are delusional or unbeatable. On Sunday night, Spain won the World Cup, right? Then why did The Star newspaper cover their front page the following day with the headline, "SA, Spain both champions." And another South African newspaper, the Sunday Times, wrote, "They came, they saw -- we conquered." Wait, who did South Africa conquer?

"We proved all the doomsayers wrong," said a caller to a radio show. "They said we couldn't pull it off," said a newspaper article. “For years, many South Africans have been told that they are inferior.”

In other words, South Africans felt they had beat the odds that outsiders had stacked against them. Before the start of the World Cup, doubts had been expressed overseas of whether the country could handle such a task. Crime would rise, stadiums wouldn't be ready, transportation wouldn't work, accommodation would run out.

And by the end of the event South Africans were boasting in letters to the editor that they had defeated "the detractors abroad who willed us to fail."

Advertisements popped up alongside the newspaper articles: "Take a bow, South Africa," said one from the Department of Sports and Recreation. And the cellphone company MTN took out an ad that read, "Together we have shown the world what we can do when we stand united."

I had noticed unity, relatively speaking. Around the soccer games there had been more of it than I had ever felt in the country. Just the fact that whites were attending soccer matches in any number was surprising. Soccer was the black sport. My friend Garth, a white South African, gushed with pride to his wife when we returned from a World Cup match, "It was great to see all the different people together, blacks, whites, Indians, tourists."

During the World Cup, South Africa felt happier, freer and more optimistic. A Zulu guy said to me, "The country has only been like this once before, in 1994 (when Mandela was elected)."  While the World Cup was having a positive impact, descriptions of that impact became exaggerated during the last week of the event. "Africa is the dark continent no longer," said a newspaper article. Descriptions of how South Africa as host was impacting the world also became exaggerated. "South Africa is now the darling of the planet," claimed a newspaper article.   That was amusing, but it didn't stop there. An ad by the state-owned telecommunications company, Telkom, stated: "We did it, flawlessly." Come on. You did it, yes, but flawlessly? There was a security guard strike and the police had to take over at Soccer City stadium. Hundreds of fans missed their semifinal match in Durban because the airport couldn't handle the amount of traffic. Japanese journalists were mugged. An American tourist was shot and robbed while walking to his accommodation on the very day he arrived in country. Yes, things mostly functioned, and crime was so much lighter than a normal month in South Africa, but flawlessly?

The final was played, and Spain beat the Netherlands, and it was all over, but the host's self-congratulations were only getting started. An ad from ABSA bank: "South Africa now has 6.6 billion fans." A headline: "Vuvuzela rules world." It grew too much for me. I was tired of hearing it, and I drove off to a game reserve near Johannesburg to get a break. I stared at a herd of wildebeests, I listened to them crunch grass as they grazed, and I recalled the opening day of the World Cup. When I was riding a bus back from the stadium that night some Mexicans and some South Africans were discussing the match which had just ended as well as different team's prospects. A young South African said, "The World Cup trophy has come to African soil and it must stay here. Even if another team wins, it doesn't matter, we will steal it from them as they get on the plane."

 Nelson Mandela is very close to a god in South Africa. In other parts of the world he is a well-respected statesman, with honorary awards having been given to him by institutions from Harvard University on down, but in South Africa he is beyond a man. He is above reproach, omnipresent, and his wishes are command.

In a country where racial tensions still make the headlines almost daily, here is a black man whom white South Africans seem to universally speak highly of. I have heard whites say negative things about other leaders, both black and white, and both in personal conversation and on the radio and in newspapers. But not once have I heard a white say a single negative thing about Mandela.

He seems above race. He is simply the father of modern South Africa. As such, Mandela is everywhere one looks. His visage is found on the five rand coin. In bookstores these days, one finds three types of reading material prominently displayed at the entrances: South Africa country guides, World Cup books and Nelson Mandela books. In Cape Town, one can see a new opera called "African Songbook: A Tribute to the Life of Nelson Mandela." Mandela's name has taken over the country's sixth-largest city; what once was Port Elizabeth is now called Nelson Mandela Bay. And in every other city I've visited in South Africa I've seen at least one street named Mandela. Johannesburg, the country's heart, even has its Nelson Mandela Square, a ritzy shopping area centered around a giant statue of the man. The house where Mandela once lived in Johannesburg is now a museum.  ESPN's prime broadcasting site in Nelson Mandela Square.

It is hard to believe that someone so revered and honored is still alive. Usually the clouds of distant memory are required for such things. But Mandela is set to celebrate his 92nd birthday on July 18.

And it seemed it would be the culmination of his time on earth on June 11, when he was supposed to welcome in person the world's biggest sporting event to the country he struggled to bring to democracy and respect. Mandela is frail and rarely makes public appearances anymore, but in the weeks prior he had gone through medical checkups and was given the green light to attend the opening ceremonies and soccer match between Bafana Bafana and Mexico.

The crowd of 85,000 at Soccer City stadium was eager to see him. I was eager to try and spot him down on the field or up in a box in the stands or wherever he might appear. And when his absence was announced there was a collective and confused holding of breaths. Then a message from Mandela was relayed to us: Still, “the game must start and we should enjoy the game.” The crowd's vuvuzelas exploded in obeyance.

But it was all for Mandela, and none for the man who was actually speaking the words to the stadium and the world. For at that moment, Jacob Zuma, the current South African president, standing at a podium down on the field and in front of the cameras seemed to be only a mouthpiece for a higher figure, like a mere prophet relaying messages from above. And indeed, as instructed, we did all enjoy the game.

I have attended multiple games in Johannesburg, the supposed epicenter of World Cup 2010, where the flagship stadium, Soccer City, was built and where the final will be played on July 11. But the match between South Africa and France in Bloemfontein on Tuesday had a far better audience than any of the Joburg games. Directly after kickoff, vuvuzelas went quiet. And the crowd began to sing together. The first song was “Thiba ka bona, e bolaea ntja sena.” Or the Sesotho words sounded like that: Stop these killer dogs. I didn't ask if I'd heard correctly. I didn't care, really. I was just so happy to be doing something in the stands other than listen to incessant vuvuzela drone in my ears. And the fun didn't stop there.

We then clapped in unison. Then we stomped as the wave toured the stadium and we stood up and sat down. When a Bafana Bafana player dribbled dangerously close to the French goal vuvuzelas lit up, or when there was a corner kick, or after South Africa scored their first goal, vuvuzelas lit up. But the crowd at Free State Stadium didn't keep their lips locked on their horns, tooting them endlessly and mindlessly as everyone did in the Johannesburg stadiums. It was an incredibly pleasant change. I actually enjoyed hearing the vuvus come up as something exciting was about to happen. And after South Africa scored their first goal the crowd chanted together the name of the scorer, “Khumalo, Bongani.”

I'd always thought Bloemfontein was a dry town in the flat and boring center of the country, but it has the greatest soccer fans. It was right that Bafana Bafana bowed out of the tournament before the best crowd.

Sandton FIFA Fan FestNot everyone can afford tickets to games, and no one can actually fly around South Africa to attend every match, but Fan Fest parks have been set up which are supposed to mimick the feeling of being in a stadium. There is a giant screen broadcasting the match, a grassy area to watch from, and food and drink stands around. Every host city in South Africa has a Fan Fest park set up, except for Johannesburg. Being the heart of South African soccer and the 2010 World Cup, Joburg has two FIFA Fan Fests. One is in Sandton, the wealthy suburb north of Johannesburg, and the other is in Soweto, the township made famous during the apartheid struggle.

I've been keeping a pansy list. It includes players which, when an opponent gets close enough, throw their hands in the air, arch their backs, roll in the grass and then look at the referee with a soap opera face while grasping their shins for dear life. Portugal's Cristiano Ronaldo is on the pansy list, and so is Oezil from Germany. France and Ghana have some players on it too, but then last night's game between South Africa and Uruguay made the list obsolete. For Uruguay tops them all. Uruguay wears pink pajamas.

They spent so much time on their knees in the grass, writhing in fake pain, that the referee eventually fell for one of the acting jobs and awarded them a foul which probably ended South Africa's World Cup.

Uruguay was the better team, technically. They were up a goal, and they didn't need to cheat, but they did. A Uruguayan player and the South African goalie were both running at the ball when the goalie slid, the Uruguayan jumped, and the tip of one of the goalie's cleats kissed the tip of one of the Uruguayan player's cleats. Then the Uruguayan, Luis Suarez, twisted himself in the air, spread his arms out wide and looked to the referee begging. The referee kicked out Itumeleng Khune, the South African goalie. Uruguay got a penalty kick and went up 2-0. The stands were shocked. The entire country seemed deflated. The South Africans in the room with me were silent. The television announcer stuttered until he said, “People in the country are likely to lose interest in the World Cup now.”

It wasn't that Bafana Bafana was going to lose the game 2-0; it was that they got ripped off. Soon enough, the stands began emptying. The likelihood that South Africa can now make it to the next round is paper thin.

I hear no more vuvuzelas outside my window. Thanks, Uruguay. I hope you sleep well in your fuzzy wuzzy pansy pants.

Africans were feeling optimistic about the continent's chances of competing with the best of Europe and South America after the opening match saw South Africa tie the higher-ranked Mexico. An African man on the bus that night said to me, “An African team will win the World Cup! We want the trophy to stay in Africa. Even if another team wins we will take it from them when they're getting on the plane.”

But now that each of the six African teams has played its opening game, it is looking like a trophy heist might be a necessary route to keeping the Cup on the continent. Algeria lost, Nigeria lost, Cameroon lost, and Cote d'Ivoire tied. The only African team to win was Ghana, who scored their only goal on a penalty kick.

Enthusiasm around Johannesburg isn't dampened, however. Many are still on a high from South Africa's Siphiwe Tshabalala having scored the first goal of the tournament, indeed the first goal overall in the first World Cup in Africa. Local newspapers are not holding back in labeling him a hero either. His mug is on the television screen every night. I'd bet hospitals are seeing newborns named Siphiwe.

Nevertheless, history presents a tough soccer nut to crack for the African teams. The World Cup has been running since 1930, yet the first sub-Saharan African team to qualify was Zaire (present-day Democratic Republic of Congo) in 1974. The farthest an African team has ever gotten in the World Cup is the quarterfinals, which Cameroon made in 1990.

With regard to winning it all, that's a very exclusive club. In 80 years of World Cups only seven different countries have won. Still, the advantage of the home crowd is huge. Ask England, whose only World Cup win was in 1966 on home turf. And ask France, who won for the first time in Paris in 1998. South Africa is far from home for the European and South American powers. South Africa is completely behind every African team. Even visitors, when they watch a game between an African team and a team other than their own, they wholeheartedly cheer for the Africans. This time still for Africa?

Behind me at Soccer City stadium yesterday sat these fans. Their team beat Denmark 2-0, so why are they so confused? There are a number of possibilities.

First, are they from Holland or the Netherlands? And whatever the answer to that question, why are they called Dutch and not Hollish or Netherlanders?

Second, if their flag is red, white and blue (as is painted on their cheeks), then why does their soccer team wear all orange? The blonde woman above is obviously thinking about how these colors clash, which makes her both confused and embarrassed.

Finally, they keep hearing people speak English and some African languages, which they expected, but then others are speaking this weird Dutch that sounds like their great grandparents.