Me & Kuduzela!!Malawi has been the platform of yet another experience of a lifetime. It may have involved days of mile munching aboard a freezing-alt-sweaty bus, but it paid off in the end. I’ve seen, felt, heard (oh yeah!) and, above all, lived the South African World Cup as it was happening in South Africa. One item ticked off my own personal bucket list. In fact, my latest trip allowed for a few more items on that same list to be fulfilled, the first one being unquestionably cross country coaching from Malawi to SA.
I reached Johannesburg first, with a freaking sense of insecurity, what with all the scaremongering that goes on about this legendary city of crime. Despite it being daytime, the lonely 5 minute walk from the coach station to my taxi point felt like days, and the very prospect of bargaining with the taxi driver over his largely inflated price, like a death wish. But the air soon dissipated once I settled in and found myself sat next to a fellow human being, scraping a living out life. I was met at the other end by a chance host, the very acquaintance of whom I made less than 3 weeks previously. Of course, I knew of him well before but only met him by chance in Ntcheu as he came over to visit his wife on the eve of the world cup. He (Sandress Musuku) was the former DHO (District Health Officer) at Ntcheu District Hospital. We staged an impromptu celebration at the local club and he extended an invitation for me to join him in Jo’burg. Being a VSO volunteer, I could hardly dismiss such an offer. That gesture though was more than mere coincidence- it symbolised one of the truly unmistakable attributes of Malawians: their generosity. Whatever little they have, they will want to share it. There is absolutely no status boasting involved (we actually shared a tiny university all-in-one room) but it fills them with enormous satisfaction to have been of assistance to someone, anyone. Going to my latest read (30hours each way by bus does get me through a good few pages), The Shadow of the Sun- Ryszard Kapuscinski, I found parallels with his description of life for ordinary “Africans” (a term I use sparingly, all too aware how a Malawian is different from a Kenyan, from a Ugandan, from an Egyptian, Libyan, Malian and Mauritian etc), whereby interdependence is second nature. Survival under hardship depends very much on this unspoken social contract. But my host was no hardship-stricken Malawian. He was simply carrying forward the evolutionary trait that his people have acquired over generations, a trait that possibly unifies most central Africans. Having already saved me a little fortune, Sandress went on to treat me to some exceptional good times in Jo’burg. I was only able to meet my bro, Suraj, briefly there, considering he had tickets for games which I didn’t, but we caught up in style later on. Jo’burg, on the whole, was very short, albeit intense. It, doubtless, served to instil that first drop of the Ayoba in me (something like ecstatic fun in Zulu), but it is Cape Town that would see it develop to its full-blown grandeur! The connection to my second stop was by way of a no-frills airline (a treat in comparison to its European counterparts) at 6am. The airport turned out to be so far from Jo’burg city (no difference from European counterparts) that I only caught my flight by the skin of my teeth. Once on the plane, I couldn’t help being struck, almost guiltily, by its passenger demographics- almost all-white-, in sharp contrast to my very recent coach ride- almost all-black. This is one very typical facet of life in Africa that I still struggle to come to terms with sometimes.
Two hours (of deep sleep) later, I landed in Cape Town. Clueless really about what to expect (I hadn’t done my homework), somewhat underwhelmed, I was almost questioning whether it was really worth trekking all this extra distance just for a game. Within a couple hours, I found out it was more than just a football game. Way more. It was to be an escape, Ayoba!, of epic proportions. Flanked by juicy mountains and oceans, the very sight of which causes me to melt with desire, Cape Town boasts to be a gem of natural conservation. In less than 4 days there, I conquered the summits of two most subliminal peaks I’d been dreaming to ascend, Table Mountain (bucket list item) and Lion’s Head. The former actually forms a feature known as the twelve apostles when viewed from the sea- quite spectacular really. We also visited the point where the Indian Ocean joins the Atlantic, Cape Point in a national park where you could find ostriches and baboons roaming freely, and stopped by a penguin beach further along.
Lion's Head
The grand TABLEOn top of that, Cape Town set the scene for a most unique family reunion, regrouping cousins from Germany, Mauritius and England as well as a long lost friend, Kushroo, whom I reconnected with in Cape Town itself. The city has a cosmopolitan mix of cultures, ranging from Xhosa tribal to Malay (Indonesian actually) to Israeli to a bit of everything, with a strong Dutch and German influence from its significant white population, making it a really colourful and rich city in many ways. Add to that the football fever that reigned supreme, you’d get all the ingredients necessary for the perfect city break. And it was.
A global reunion
SA beat France in publicIt began in the most Wow-ing style with the live game of the South African Bafana Bafanas against France, being projected live on giant screen along the waterfront. I’ve never seen such an electric display of football frenzy before. Despite only having the remotest chance of qualifying at that stage, the yellow sea of South Africans didn’t let that get in the way of a good show, only heightened by the ever-sounding Vuvuzelas! Love it or hate it, the added decibels do transform an audience, literally. But if you love it, like I did, then the added spectator joy can only be measured on the Celsius fever grade!! As of now, it became almost a rule to watch all the games on public giant screens, except, of course, for the one we’d be watching at palpable distance from the players LIVE IN GREENPOINT STADIUM: Cameroun vs Netherlands! I will, no doubt, fail to convey the atmosphere of such an event in words for you, but just let it be known that watching a live game at a world cup, especially when it is the first one staged on African soil while I’m based there, is another of these experiences of a lifetime that I’ve now drawn a big tick next to! Seeing the Dutch orange invasion at close hand alone, especially when it undulates along a Hola! (Mexican wave), was worth making the displacement from Malawi for. And the flags, including those of so many countries having not even qualified, including Mauritius’, brought with them a sense of international unity I’ve not witnessed elsewhere. Indeed, forgive my callousness to my English readers, even the Germans were happily sharing jokes and drinks and hugs with us on the streets and pubs after the game. The way stadium floor would come alive even as the ball came close to 18yard box, let alone when it crossed the goal line, is a feeling that could only be matched by the splitting roar of the Vuvuzelas accompanying it in the air. In other words, you had to be there to begin to fathom what it was like!
Thus, one week of dizzying football fever has left its indelible mark on my African passage. One month if you include the ripples emitted throughout Africa, not least Malawi. Its presence for me has been omnipresent, from Malawi, through Mozambique and Zimbabwe to its core, South Africa. By way of illustration, I was even able to verify the scores of the matches I’d missed while on the coach with the immigration officer who recognised me on the way back in Mozambique. Only a week left to go, and already you can feel a vibration in the air, an anticipation of a greater African celebration. This time, it is African in the wider sense. The excitement of the entire African continent behind their sole representative left, Ghana, is, in one word, captivating. Okay two: addictive! Go on Black Stars!
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