A Year In Motion

After having seen Spain qualify for the World Cup Final, we started the last leg of our World Cup odyssey back towards Johannesburg. At this stage, having seen almost all of South Africa and its main attractions, there remained only one – the Drakensberg mountains.

Forming a natural border between Lesotho and South Africa, the Drakensberg lie deep in rural Kwazulu-Natal. We spent two days driving around the spectacular scenery which is classed as a UNESCO World Heritage Site. The landscape is characterised by rolling plains of long yellow grasses, divided by small rivers, and dotted everywhere with scattered settlements of traditional Zulu houses. The highlight was definitely the famous Amphitheatre, which is an 8km stretch of cliffs which rise over 3,000m in height, forming a natural border between South Africa and Lesotho.

Back in Johannesburg, we had two goals to fulfil. One was to visit the Apartheid Museum, and the other the World Cup Final. As it happened, there was a Park and Ride facility located at the Apartheid Museum, which allowed us to combine both into the same day. So we left early on the Sunday to give us plenty of time for the three hours which are advised for the Apartheid Museum. As it happens, you could spend a whole day in the museum, as it charts the history of South Africa from the discovery of gold in Johannesburg in the 19th century, right up to the present-day democracy.

From the first encounter at the museum, you get a sense of the twisted reality that was apartheid, as your entry ticket classifies you as White, or Non-White. Based on that, you are invited to use the appropriate entrance to the museum, which is lined with other signs from the apartheid-era, classifying areas and services based on race. During apartheid, groups of unqualified inspectors would judge a person’s colour by a number of predefined categories such as white, coloured, or black. In some cases, this could have disastrous consequences resulting in families being split apart as a man could be classified differently from his wife. In such cases, there was an appeals process, where your “colour” could be revised. One of the more amusing exhibits showed a newspaper article which listed the changes that had been recorded by the appeals board, the final sentence stating, with no hint of irony, that “no blacks have become white”.

There is so much information in the museum. My only criticism would be that it could break up the visit into different stages to help you progress, for example, The Formative Years, Organised Resistance etc, as sometimes the amount of information can be slightly overwhelming – I’ve named the sections myself below. One section that I found very interesting was “Petty Apartheid”. This described practices where schools would be provided, but without tables and chairs. Or at train stations, the majority of passengers were non-whites, and they would have only one gate, while the whites would have several which would hardly be used. And trains for non-whites would not run on time, and would not have destinations marked on them, rendering it almost impossible to be sure you would board the right train. The intention was obviously to degrade the people as much as possible. Another fascinating section was on the life of Steve Biko, a resistance leader who sought to overcome these psychological methods, and to restore pride and self-belief in the black people. He was beaten into a coma while in custody, and not given medical treatment for days, which resulted in his death, one of many who died at the hands of the regime.

Another section of the museum describes the actions of white people to fight the apartheid policies, but as Nelson Mandela stated in one of his trials, these people “existed in spite of, not because of the grotesque system of justice in this country”. Another area describes the township violence which took place after the release of the political prisoners and the unbanning of the black political parties. This period was in fact the bloodiest time of all, a state of almost civil war among the different ethnic communities. And importantly, a section on the international landscape during these times. During the Cold War, a blind eye was turned to Apartheid because the USA counted on South Africa as an ally to fight communism in Southern Africa, even supporting a strike against nearby Angola. And in fact, international pressure was only applied on South Africa after the end of the Cold War, showing the ugly side of world politics, where self-interest inevitably prevails over principle. The flipside of course is that Robert Mugabe gave shelter and support to the ANC military wing in exile in their time of need, which helps you understand why South Africa has never condemned the Mugabe regime at its worst in Zimbabwe.

We had spent over three hours in the museum and still hadn’t finished, but kick-off was approaching, and the museum was closing anyway, so we hit the road to Soccer City. There were people from every country at the final, and it was full of colour, none more noticeable than the trademark orange of the Netherlands, helped by the fact that most of the seating in the stadium is itself orange. But even that couldn’t help Spain running out 1-0 in extra-time after a tense and frequently ill-disciplined final. In fact the highlights for us were a colourful opening ceremony, a brief appearance from Nelson Mandela, who was greeted by 80,000 fans singing Ma-Di-Ba!, and to top it all off, the presenting of the World Cup trophy to the winning team. And so it ended, Spain were the World Cup champions, we had attended 4 of their 7 games and somewhat frustratingly seen them score a only a single goal in 3 of those games, and Honduras could hold their heads high knowing that ultimately, it was the world’s best who had sent them home.

As we were in Johannesburg, and were bidding farewell to South Africa, we figured it would be appropriate if we had a night out with the first South African we had met on our World Cup trip, Francois, who had helped us so much throughout our trip with tips and contacts. So we met in the aptly-named restaurant “Carnivore” on the outskirts of Johannesburg. The restaurant is centred around a huge fire grill, which serves up a huge selection of South African game. We ate springbok, crocodile, venison, pork, and my personal favourite – zebra! All washed down with some good company and some Pinotage.

And so we bid our farewell to a month in South Africa, the first African World Cup, 7,500km of driving, enough memories to keep for a lifetime, and to make us want to come back for more. So thanks South Africa for everything and well done for making it a terrific adventure!

Back in Johannesburg, well almost. Thanks to Francois, who we met on the plane from Dubai to Jo’burg, we are staying in a guesthouse in Pretoria which is about 50km north of Johannesburg. Our next game is against Spain in Ellis Park in Johannesburg on 21 June, mid-winter’s day (or mid-summer depending on where you’re reading). And as it’s the solstice, we’re sensing a little magic in the air, and hoping that Honduras can produce a stunning victory and send the Spanish home early.

Tonight’s game is in Johannesburg, and not the nicest part of town either. When we left the Mbombela stadium in Nelspruit, we were waiting about two hours before we could get on a bus to the park and ride station. Tonight’s game is at 8:30pm, and the temperature will be around 5 degrees, so we don’t want to be hanging around in a bad part of town for two hours at midnight. So Francois (our personal travel tipster) has recommended a Portuguese restaurant near the stadium which serves good food, and provides secure parking just 10 minutes walk from the stadium.

We had heard about Johannesburg traffic being crazy, and it is. Kick-off is at 8:30pm, and leaving Sandton City at 5:30pm to drive the 10km to the stadium seems like we may not make it in time. Finally, we get on the main highway (M1) that cuts through Jozi, and we can relax a little. We are happy that we changed our rental car today to one that has a GPS. Travelling round the countryside with a map is fine, but don’t attempt Jo’burg without a GPS unless you wish to donate your car to charity, or your head to frustration.

A lot of the roads around the stadium are closed for the match, but luckily the detour leads us right to the restaurant, the Boa Pinga. We ring the bell so that the staff press the button to unlock the metal door so that we can enter. Once inside, the cook tells us she has forgotten the key for the secure carpark. We’re in a bit of a dilemma, but after consulting almost everyone in the bar restaurant, they advise us to park the car on the pavement at the restaurant door and pay the watchman 5 Rand to look after it. Because the restaurant is staying open until after the match, it will be ok. If not, consider the wheels on your car gone – a Johannesburg parking fee. I pay the watchman 10 Rand, and promise him 10 more after the game. Ninfa’s not so confident, and is impatient to get to the game, but I try to convince her that it’ll work out.

So we order some grilled chicken and some Mozambiquan beer to get in the mood. Meanwhile, we take it in turns to go to the toilet and add at least three layers of clothing. In India, I foolishly posted my fleece jumper home thinking that an African winter is bound to be like a European summer. By day, yes; by night – where’s my fleece?! There’s a cheap clothing chain-store in South Africa called PEP, and we each bought gloves and hats and for me long-johns! In high spirits, and warm clothes, we walk to the stadium through the hilly, bungalow streets lined with street vendors in the entirely black neighbourhoods surrounding Ellis Park. We share a bottle of South African sparkling wine on the way (South African wine is good quality and available at bargain prices), already celebrating what we are confident will be a resounding Honduran victory.

By the time we enter the stadium, it’s almost 7:30pm, and the atmosphere is bubbling, as are we. There are TV crews filming Spanish fans in matador costumes, and we wave our huge Honduras flag in front of them like a red rag to a raging bull (a quite jovial bull to be fair). It’s not long until we meet some old faces from the first game in Nelspruit, and we start partying and singing various songs like “Adios Espana!” (Bye-bye Spain), and “Matador d’Espana, Honduras!” (Spain-killers, Honduras!). Loads of the fans from both sides are gathering round and taking photos and joining in, and the atmosphere is electric.

About 15 minutes before kick-off, we take our seats. We’re on the centre-circle around 8 rows from the front – the view is amazing. As is the noise! At pitch-level, the vuvuzelas echo around the stadium and crash in a crescendo of noise on the pitch. It’s true, it’s impossible for players and managers to communicate. Just before the teams come out, and half-way through typing a text message, someone bumps against me on the steps and my phone falls out of my hand. I see it in a crowd of feet, and making my way towards it, someone accidentally kicks it, and now the teams come out, and nobody cares and I don’t even know if I do anymore. But it’s a frustrating side-show to the main act taking place on the pitch.

And this is it, Honduras’ moment at the World Cup. With nothing to lose, the players and fans bellow out the national anthem and the game kicks off at a frantic tempo. Twenty minutes in, and just in front of us, David Villa beats two players, turns inside another and nestles the ball in the top corner of Noel’s net. It’s a goal worthy of a World Cup final. Spain are in the ascendancy, but Honduras, courtesy of a few changes in personnel and notably the return of talismanic striker David Suazo, are giving as good as they get. In the second half, David Villa hits a shot from the edge of the area which takes a deflection and loops over Noel for goal number two. A few minutes later, and Spain have a penalty. David Villa, who is perhaps lucky to still be on the pitch after raising his arm to a Honduran defender in the first half, steps up to take the kick. It looks like he’s used all his luck, as the penalty flies wide, and it’s as if Honduras scored a goal.

Spain continue to play best, but Honduras are full of fight and are no pushover, but give Spain a good contest for the rest of the game. It’s a brilliant night, and it’s all clear that it’s not winning, but taking part that is most important. It’s a terrific achievement for Honduras to be at the World Cup, and such a wonderful moment to see them play a part in such an historic occasion. And for us to be there to watch it, is a feeling money can’t buy. The final whistle blows, and our only criticism of the Honduras team is that for the second game running, the team doesn’t come to applaud the fans. But they’ll come in the third game.

After the game, we search in vain for my phone, and walk back to Boa Pinga, where we have a few coffees before hitting the road back to Pretoria along the wide, deserted highways.

World Cup Lingo – Lesson 4

Shopshop – fine, good. Eg Question: “How is everything with you?” Answer: “Shopshop.”

Yaw – This word, commonly used by the Dublin rugby classes and the English royal family, is the Afrikaans word for “yes”

Robot – a traffic light. Eg, Person 1: “How do I get to Jozi?” Person 2: “When you see the second robot, turn right.” Person 1: “Have you been drinking?”

Ayoba – a greeting used for exciting or great occasions, such as World Cup 2010

Qualification for the World Cup is rarely straightforward and carries its fair share of defeats, but fortunately a greater number of victories. And so it was for us on our road from Delhi in India to Johannesburg, and World Cup 2010 in South Africa. Our flight with Ethiopian Airlines was scheduled to leave Delhi at 2am in the morning with 2 hours in Addis Ababa to connect to Johannesburg. The last kilometre in the taxi to Delhi airport took around 30 minutes but we arrived at the airport around 11:30pm. Security only let you into the airport 3 hours before your flight, so we were surprised when we were refused entry. The soldier told us our flight was delayed until 6am. Not only did this mean an uncomfortable night in the airport, but missing our connection (the one daily flight to South Africa from Ethiopia) and possibly Honduras’ first game against Chile. Having booked with Ethiopian, we knew there was an element of risk, so we had researched alternatives before we left our hotel earlier that day. So we went to the Ethiopian Airlines office and asked them if they would rebook us. They were very helpful to us, as they had received an instruction from their HQ to take the unusual step of rerouting World Cup travellers on other airlines. It took a few hours to organise as all other airlines were overbooked due to World Cup demand, but in the end we got booked on an Emirates flight through Dubai leaving at 4:15am and arriving only a few hours later than originally planned in Johannesburg.

We were delighted with our new itinerary, as Emirates are renowned for comfort in all classes. Before I board a long-haul flight crossing several time-zones, I always plan to sleep, but these days the in-flight entertainment is too good to waste the journey sleeping. On our second flight to Johannesburg, we were seated beside a gentleman wearing a South Africa football shirt. We soon struck up a conversation with Francois and he proceeded to fill us in on everything to see and do in South Africa, as well as insisting that we call him anytime during our stay for advice. We took note to accept his offer as it seemed genuine.

So finally we arrived in Johannesburg, where we had arranged an airport pick-up with the same company who were renting us the campervan which we had booked for the duration of our 4 weeks in South Africa. 90 minutes later, our pick-up still hadn’t arrived. Finally, I got in touch with the company, Wicked Campers, who told us that due to a lorry-drivers strike, our campervan wasn’t ready and that the van was currently somewhere in Botswana. As we had planned to sleep in the van that night, this was obviously a slight problem. The company was so stretched for vans, that they had had to rent the airport pick-up van. After a long evening at the rental office in freezing cold temperatures (remember, we had left a 45 degree plus Delhi), we were placed in alternative accommodation and told to come back the next morning for the van. When I got back the next morning, there was still no van, so I asked for a full refund (and got it) and went to the airport to rent a new car.

All the car rental offices at the airport are in a line one after the other, and it was in this order that I learned from each of the crowded offices, that there were no more cars for rent. Honduras were kicking off their World Cup 2010 in 28 hours time, in a city 350km away, so the tension was mounting. Finally, in the second last office, there was a car, one car left, the last in Johannesburg airport. I took it, and at a price less than 50% of what our camper van was originally going to cost. After a little phone work, we also had accommodation in Nelspruit, our first World Cup game city. In total, the car rental and self-catering accommodation were going to cost less than the daily rate of our campervan. We quickly came to realise that our van being in Botswana was a blessing in disguise, especially as camping in freezing conditions is something the most die-hard camper is bound to frown upon.

And so we set off eating a KFC takeaway in our stereoless VW TenaCiti (like a 1980′s VW Golf) on the road to Nelspruit trying to get there before dark in case we’d be carjacked (we had been listening to too much negative press).

The road to qualification takes many unexpected twists, and what seems like an omen of misfortune, can soon turn out to be exactly what you wished for. The important thing is getting there, and get there we did.

PS We didn’t have any blog posts from our two weeks in India, a result both of the tiring heat and the amount of time needed to organise our trip around Rajasthan. We have written some posts but will publish them after the World Cup.

PPS In our World Cup posts, we will share a little bit of South African slang and World Cup lingo to help you feel a part of the events at home. So here’s lesson 1!

World Cup Lingo – Lesson 1

Makarapa – a construction-workers hat, cut up into crazy shapes and painted with your teams colours. Huge lens-less spectacles are often taped to them – essential South African football fan headgear.

Vuvuzela – if you haven’t goa a makaraka, you have to have a vuvuzela. Love ‘em or hate ‘em, it’s part of South African football, and therefore part of World Cup 2010.

Jozi – Johannesburg

Jo’burg – Johannesburg