Viva Vuvuzela

It seems like just yesterday the girls and I were scouring our closets looking for anything and everything yellow and green to wear to our respective worksites in celebration of the 100 Days until the FIFA World Cup kick off. And that ladies and gentlemen was 2 March 2010…exactly 105 days ago.

100 days ago. Even typing the sentence it sounds unreal. It has taken my boss Pat visiting from America and leading a full weekend retreat and then reflecting for the last two weeks to fully recognize that the mid way point in my year has come and gone with the month of June piggybacking closely behind it.

100 days later Enter World Cup Season

South Africa has been transformed. We have been drowning in a sea of flags rivalled by the deafening sound of the beloved vuvuzela for the last few weeks, but both Thursday and Friday of last week were unlike anything I have ever witnessed.

Thursday the girls and I joined Andrew and Gordon at a Johnny Clegg concert (At Gateway Mall- the largest mall in the Southern Hemisphere). Johnny Clegg is a SOuth African legend, not only for his invigorating music but for the way in which he inspired change just by being. Dubbed the “White Zulu”, he took strides in breaking the barrier between blacks and whites even before it was kosher to do so.

The concert opened with a singer from the band Tree63 who ended his performance by signing the three most perfect songs in a row:
-Three Little Birds (don’t worry about a thing cause every little things gunna be all right) By Bob Marley
- Wave Your Flag – the World Cup theme song
-Nkosi Sikelel' iAfrika – The South African National Anthem

As I looked around I saw white and blacks together, standing side by side. Swaying their arms back and forth holding South African flags and then signing in unison the national anthem, in Zulu. Sharing together their pride, celebrating together their country. The experience was so powerful and of course I teared up.

After the concert the five of us went out for a Drink in Durban and the mood was just as vibrant. Everyone was excited and jerseys were in abundance. Conversations between cultures flew freely as everyone wanted to know who you were, where you were from and how long you were staying. I spoke with one girl from Germany in the bathroom. She complimented my shirt as I did hers- a long white sweater. I told her I had been looking for a sweater that was white and longer to no avail. At the end of the night she found me, sweater in hand and said “in the spirit of the world uniting, it’s yours”, handed me the sweater and walked out of the bar. The first of many outstanding acts of kindness I was blessed to receive this weekend.

Thursday melted into Friday. THE FRIDAY. June 11th, Kick off day typical life in South Africa has come to a standstill and instead a new vibe has been adopted. Every car has at least one South African flag flying from the window. Most cars actually have an additional South African flag or one representing another country on the other side. All cars have slip covers on their side mirrors with South African flags on them. As Sinead and I drove home from work we had the pleasure of watching a small boy try to stand in the back of a moving truck blowing a vuvuzela while waving a SA flag, not at all safe, but endearing at the same time.

The background melody of my life has transformed from the lulling of voices and cars to the not so lulling chorus of voluble Vuvuzelas (a plastic horn which when blown makes a loud monotone borderline deafening noise) rising from the valley. And somehow everyone’s closet including my own is only producing a wardrobe that consists only of the colors yellow and green.

The atmosphere of Friday evening in Durban for the opening South Africa Bafana Bafana game was unlike anything I have ever witnessed. Driving into Durban every person in every car had a Bafana Bafana jersey on. Walking down the boardwalk toward the fan park among the fans from various Countries was so exciting! The singing the dancing and the flags were everywhere and the whole experience was was so moving. Trees were being wrapped in South African flag colors and the sand was being built into the Moses Mahbida Stadium.





Again as I looked around there were both white and black, old and young donning the Bafana Bafana Jersey, vuvuzelas in hand, celebrating together.

Describing the vibe inside the fan park is so difficult as it in all of its glory was such an indescribable experience. The fragrance of excitement and pride was universal. It reminded me of the Bronx the day after Obama was elected; smiles plastered to the faces of all, everyone excited, everyone talking with each other, a real sense of unity and pride.


As I stood alongside thousands of other fans, feet in the sand; Indian Ocean to my left; Durban city to my right; World Cup Stadium behind me witnessing the dawn of a new chapter in the history of South Africa I realized the significance of that moment. For me an awestruck fan it was an exciting moment and I was proud to be a “resident” of South Africa for the year, but for long time residents it was an opportunity to unite, to see their country start to be healed and their dreams start to actualize.

I’m sure the fans will go home with a vuvuzela or two tucked in their luggage and a little ringing in their ears ...but for me the noise will not just be memories of another good game, but rather of barriers being broken, cultures merging, wake up vuvuzela calls from Embo at 5:30am – which carry on to vuvuzelas being blown on my way to work by fellow drivers or by patients at work – and St. Theresas boys teaching me how to purse my lips to make the right sound –and finally vuvuzelas will always remind me of the transcendence of love and pride.