As I crossed the border from Botswana to South Africa, a feat that took no less than an hour and a half, standing in a long line in weather of a temperature which has come be feel pretty damn cold to me (good luck MN winters), I was reminded that my sister country to the south will soon be hosting the World Cup. I have to be honest and admit that at first the idea of trying to go to a game of the 2010 world cup was an exciting one, hell I was already here, and I know enough people in SA that I could have certainly found some couch to crash on. This naïve excitement was soon replaced by the reality check of what a stupendous f*ck up the whole thing could and likely would be, and I sat back and smugly congratulated myself on my brilliant foresight in avoiding the whole circus and heading to London.
The further I got into SA, the more skeptical I became. Over and over again I saw workers working at a typical southern African pace to finish projects that should have been done long ago. When we tried to take public transportation, we had to inquire with no less than ten people as to how to find which route could take us to the Apartheid Museum (which they might want to brush up on as I would imagine there might be a few people wanting to go there, and not every person who pitches up in this country is going to have pockets bursting with money, as seems to be the general impression). When numerous people tried to rip me off, I chided them in my broken Setswana (and I just learned that SA officially has 11 languages, which explains a lot), which they laughed at and thought was perhaps Sesotho. Ishrugged and shook my head thinking of all the world’s people (mostly Americans from what I’ve heard about ticket sales) who were about to descend on this logistical African nightmare.
But then, as is always the case in southern Africa, we did find what we were looking for. The Apartheid museum. It was wonderful. As my eyes welled up with tears again and again (what!!?? They had an exhibit about Mandela. That man is so inspirational he makes me well up every time.) and I thought about what not only this country but in many ways this region has been through in the past hundred or so years. As I walked through the exhibits I thought about what I’ve learned from not only the black but the white South Africans I’ve come to know and understand here, and how many sides there are to every story. I was able to put my American cynicism and judgment aside (after all, we were going through some pretty big growing pains during the time Apartheid was being instated on our side of the pond as well) and feel true empathy for what this place and all it's people have gone through.
And I was reminded of the most important lessons that Africa offers up to those of us lucky enough to spend a decent amount of time here. The lessons are about hope. And perseverance. My time in southern Africa taught me a lot about holding out for things that I believe are important, even when it seems like they might never be accomplished, or are impossible. It taught me a lot about letting go of the things I previously thought to be important, or at least to question those things, as in a majority of cases I was hanging (sometimes quite desperately) onto a lot of stuff that didn’t truly matter.
The next day on the plane out of Africa I watched “Invictus” (more tears, this time because I missed all my South African friends and their crazy accents, and because hell, it’s a beautiful story, and more Madiba). For those of you who haven’t’ seen it- and I would highly recommend it- it’s about how after Apartheid the new South African sports ministry wanted to eliminate the name and colors of the national South African rugby team, the Springboks, as they considered them to be symbols of Apartheid and oppression. Mandela convinced them to keep the team, name and colors, and the team went on to win the 1995 South African hosted Rugby world cup (I have seen how passionate South Africans are about their rugby.. getting rid of the team would indeed have been a big problem.) and provide a unifying source of pride for the country.
As I reflect back on my so recently departed adopted homelands from the creature comforts and confusion of London, I am again warmed with excitement for South Africa again on the eve of their big show. Whether they are completely successful in their big debut onto the world’s sporting event stage, they have approached the big event with excitement and hope. I put my cynicism to rest, and my heart smiles on behalf of the country and continent that eagerly awaits its turn to shine and be acknowledged for something besides the heartbreaks and hardships which seem to be all one hears about from Africa on the evening news.
Good Luck South Africa. May your World Cup debut show the world all the good you have to offer.
“Invictus”
By William Ernest Henley
Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds and shall find me unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.
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