A "Typical" South African - a sense of belonging

My son ended the school term on a high since the house that he belongs to at school won the singing competition. The house system is an integral part of the set up of the school. Everything the boys do reflect on their house – earning merits or demerits accordingly. It is not something that I am familiar with. The houses which we belonged to for sport when I was at school, don’t come close to this. There is a  sense of pride and belonging that is being engendered here. If you have seen any of the Harry Potter movies, you will have an idea of what I am talking about.

I have been observing this with interest since I have been exploring the concept of tribalism and the innate need we have to belong. From the minute we are born we are received into a family, a community and a country with certain belief systems, customs and culture and language. It makes us feel safe, encourages us to be loyal and to take pride in the group. It gives us a sense of belonging.

At a later stage we then learn to move away and become independent, maybe questioning what we were taught, exploring new avenues. This concept of belonging to a tribe can have both positive and negative connotations. I find this fascinating in a country like South Africa where we have such a fragmented national tribe as a result of the divisions of apartheid. So many times I have been asked to describe a typical South African and I battle with the answer. What is a “typical” South African?

I think that we came closest to the concept of a South African tribe during the soccer world cup, when we waved our flags, sang the anthem and stood behind our national team. I have started to think about what makes us uniquely South African.

• We have fought for basic human rights for all people to be treated with respect and dignity.
• When someone dies, we turn up to support the family left behind.
• We greet our neighbours in the street.
• When someone needs it we make soup or cookies and take it around.
• We recognise that we are all one and that we need to work to make it true.
• We are proud of our natural heritage, our parks and our animals.
• We know that all God’s beaches are for all God’s children.
• When we sing the national anthem we are reminded of the struggle and compromise that brought us democracy and peace.
• We know who our heroes are.
• We are a colourful people.
•  We sing, we dance, and we laugh at ourselves.
• We soak up the sun and welcome the rain.
• We create beautiful art works.
• We are sporty and love the outdoors.
• We look after each other’s children when we need to.
• We are not afraid to howl at the government when they do something wrong.
• We know how important education is.
• We fight for good health care for all.
• We look after our old people and listen to their stories.
• We love good food.
• We have a firm handshake.

 This list needs some work and is open to suggestion.  

War minus the shooting

George Orwell said that "Serious sport is war minus the shooting." I couldn't help thinking that, in some instances, the soccer World Cup was like a war of the world - there were the different countries competing against each other, the rallying of supporters, the "war-paint", the battle-cries and the "uniforms".

The soccer World Cup mobilises the largest number of people in the world. Apart from the more than 3 million who packed into the fan parks and stadiums, there was about a billion more watching on television or listening to the commentary on radio. Certainly, it celebrates national identity - never before have so many people in this country waved the flag in a celebration of national pride.

During apartheid even the sport was divided and soccer, which was seen as largely a Black person's game, suffered from the isolation and lost opportunities to play on an international level. Now we have experienced first-hand how unifying and mobilising the game can be. Unifying and mobilising across the artificial borders of class, race, religion, age and sex.

Imagine if this gathering together from all corners of the world, could satisfy the need for war. We would have referees to ensure fair play. The spectators would be there to bear witness to what had been done in their name. Everyone would celebrate the victors and leave satisfied that they had done their best, until next time. I can dream, can't I?

The Love of the Game

I didn't know I cared so much. About the soccer, I mean. Yesterday I felt completely shattered after the Germans demolished Argentina. I think I felt it more intensely as I watched my son become smaller and smaller as he sank into his seat with every ball that thundered into the goals. I was also still trying to recover from Ghana's loss the night before - it really was a loss for the whole continent. 

I'm not sure how I feel about Uruguay at the moment - my brain tells me they are also the underdogs and deserve to win, but I want to punish them for kicking "us" out. I started out the World Cup with this hierarchy of support - first and foremost, Bafana Bafana. All of us knew that we stood slim chance of making it through the first rounds - but sentiment carried us along and filled the nation with pride. After SA, I supported any African team to be playing, then a South American team (the south-south connection) and then Spain.

On Friday we climbed onto a little 12-seater plane with two Netherlands supporters to fly down to Port Elizabeth to watch Netherlands against Brazil. It hadn't been in the plan, but when my husband heard who was playing, he quickly made a plan. I sat in a sea of orange, green and gold; grown-up men dressed as giant orange balls walked by, followed by an orange wig wearing an orange bathrobe. Behind me drums beat out the rhythm of the samba. After a hesitant start, the Netherlands showed the samba kings a few steps of their own. The crowd was stunned and sms'es flowed between us and friends in all parts of the world, as they tried to come to terms with the loss...another major upset for this World Cup which will surely be known for upsets.

I didn't have much emotion invested in the game in the afternoon, but Ghana vs Uruguay was a different story. Last night I felt completely spent and had nothing to give Spain or Paraguay. I thought I would have an early night but was drawn to the televison like a moth to a flame. I couldn't help thinking that it didn't matter who won because the Germans would be waiting like a well-oiled machine to take them out 4-something!

This morning the sun is shining and it is a beautiful sunny winter's day in Cape Town. Three short weeks ago, 32 teams converged on our country to do "battle", now there are four left. There have been highs and lows, tears and laughter, but the greatest gift has to be the national pride and the knowledge that we could pull it off. I will gather myself and enjoy the soccer that is still to be played for the love of the game itself. There's always 2014!