One Word: Bafana

JOHANNESBURG – As an American, the only word you need to know around the Pretoria-Johannesburg area is Bafana. Locally, “the boys”, the South African national team are heroes.  From the moment sun breaks to the moment the sun sets, the sound of noisemakers breaks through the air.   The enthusiasm is uncontainable as up to 15 people will fill the back of a pickup truck and scream “Bafana Bafana!” at the top of their lungs. South African flags, banners, posters and murals are decked out in the streets. And, the best par – the underdogs, 84^th ranked in the world, mostly made up of a slew of local club player, and doubted by everyone, even our tight-lipped shuttle driver, April, delivered on Friday.

The scene on the way to concert in Soweto on Thursday night, featuring major international artists such as K’naan and Shakira, was literally unbelievable. Fifteen Americans, one German and one Argentinian study abroad student glared in amazement out of a bus window as hundreds of buses, in what resembled a mass exodus, flocked to the concert stadium in Soweto. We raised our fists and yelled “Bafana!” out the window, which were always answered by yells of approval. This trend continued.

Inside the concert, fans of every country danced and drank together in unity. And just about every South African dressed in yellow Bafana Bafana jerseys faces glowed with joy as they knew their country, at the moment, was the nexus of the world. The goal was to let Mandela, who suffered the terrible loss of his 13-year-old great-granddaughter in a car accident late Thursday night, hear the roar of the people at concert from Johannesburg.

Friday was the day.

The flocks of South African fans (students are out of school for an extra long winter break just because of the World Cup) wandering around the streets a couple days before the first game were small groups compared to the masses that filled the street on Friday. We rabble-roused crowds by pumping our fists and clapping our hands, starting “Show ‘em Bafana” chants.

Once we entered the fan park in Pretoria, the noisemakers rang loudly in everyone’s ear. The anticipation was building as the opening ceremony led up to the opening kickoff.  By the opening kickoff, I could hardly see the screen or the ground below me. By halftime, Americans, Algerians, Argentinians and South Africans we’re all embracing a scoreless game. One South African looked back at me and yelled, “They’re (Mexico) never going to find the goal!”

When South Africa went up 1-0 on a beautifully set up goal midway through the second half, the entire fan park turned into a parade.  Everyone was joyously celebrating for a solid 20 minutes and then we all held our breath, hoping that the defense could hold on as well.

The fan park fell dead silent when Mexico equalized.  But when the final bell rang, disappointed fans still looked content with what was essentially a miracle draw on paper. The dancing began again.

Conversation began about the England vs. U.S. game. A different South African looked back at a group of us and jokingly said, “Get England tomorrow.  You know what they did to us!”

Thank you Bafana Bafana seemed to be a sufficient response.

—Philip Deutsch