#210 Bask in the glow of a successful World Cup only to avoid the pull of humdrum routine now that the party is over. And while some are still pondering the significance of those fantastic white elephants that sucked dry the pond at the closing ceremony I have been celebrating the fact that I finally got to wear the colours of a winning team (evidence below), packing up my array of supporters flags and scarves (Bafana Bafana, Ghana, Argentina, Portugal, Netherlands) and catching up on the good press South Africa has been getting while playing Knaan’s waving flag over and over again and sobbing quietly. Just read Boris Johnson’s Telegraph column and couldn’t say it better so here goes. Continue reading
#208 Join in the fray about vuvuzelas that has become more deafening than the trumpet itself this week. Score one to South Africa for getting the word into international headlines, another for causing Twitter to shudder with #vuvuzela overload, a third for making Ronaldo weigh in on this weighty matter (instead of on fast cars and faster women) and give that guy at the rugby match in Wales that was brave enough to blow one a round of applause. It’s something I have written about before, the fact that I like the vuvuzela and its angry-wasp-like sound (cue the insults from the vuvuzela-haters).
#207 Enjoy this moment – In true Jozi style flags fly proudly off electric fences, the sound of vuvuzelas (singly, that of a wounded bull elephant, in large groups – more like angry hornets) rings out wherever you are – from Melrose Arch to Braamfontein, Sandton to the Soweto no matter what time of day. Fashion trends hold no sway as most people are intent on showing their team colours. I have succumbed. This city is yellow and green, in love with this time, this place, and this nation. Continue reading
#206 Nothing to do in Joburg besides become a fan – of football, Bafana Bafana, the diski, the flag, the colours, the people, the spirit, the music and even the vuvuzela (I have my earplugs ready for the opening game at Soccer City tomorrow night). It’s hard not to. Yesterday in Sandton the streets filled with thousands (they say around 185 000 to be more precise) — and even the actuaries and accountants and a few oddly dressed people that could only have come from some corporate IT department joined the throngs Continue reading
#202 Check in to Hotel Yeoville. I spent Saturday morning at Hotel Yeoville, one of the most exciting interactive exhibitions I have seen. Hotel Yeoville is the brainchild of photographer and artist Terry Kurgan who has for the past three years championed this project to as she puts it to “make the invisible community visible”. Its aim is to create a social map of the migrant or immigrant experience of Johannesburg – to track the experiences of those who have travelled from all over and now call Joburg home. Ironically home is not always a refuge – and the exhibition uses popular social media technologies to create safe spaces in which the complex emotions people have about home can be articulated and shared.
#182. Think of covering the walls with some highly covetable posters. To mark the (dare I say it – FIFA, don’t shoot) World Cup in South Africa in 2010 (there it’s out and so far the use of those words together in one sentence has brought me neither a lightning bolt nor an ominous knock at the door. In fact those German Shepherds barking are mine) a number of local and international artists were commissioned to produce some truly gorgeous works of art. An official Art Posters Edition series that “celebrates and pays homage to the beautiful game“.
#177. Gasp a little as Zapiro gives new meaning to “member” of Parliament. With President Jacob Zuma’s sex life firmly back on the national agenda following Sunday’s revelation (see the original article from the Sunday Times here) that he has fathered his 20th child with Sonono Khoza, daughter of soccer boss Irvin Khoza, it appears that the presidential cavalcade may need some Venter trailers to add to the minibuses that are used to transport the wives club. Travelling with four wives (I hear the sound of wedding bells) is no light matter.
I am a little uncomfortable (call that a lot) about referring to the President’s extra-curricular activities but not so squeamish as to wish that he was keeping the mouse in the house or at least practicing “no glove, no love”. If you are going to put it out there, you can’t blame the nation for noticing.
#154. Go to the airport and collect someone. And it took more than an hour for them to make it from the plane to international arrivals this morning. No complaints here though as it gave me extra time to find OR Tambo International’s best kept secret – a brand new super-cool Woolworths store. (Score one goal for the brand) But not just any store — the kind of store that would have made the Tom Hanks character in Terminal, a happy man. Continue reading
#125. Feel the love. And so we sat, on the edge of our seats, our eyes mostly glued to the pitch (which by last night was starting to show some wear). Mostly glued because the game was utterly captivating, nail-biting, excruciatingly suspense-filled. (The other few minutes had me glued to Twitter #confedcup). Around 48 000 of us packed Ellis Park along with about 47 000 vuvuzelas. Continue reading