.vresize.36.36.medium.0.png){kind=small}
.vresize.36.36.medium.0.png){kind=small}
The morning of the opening World Cup match was my first in South Africa.
Having lain in bed wide awake since 3a.m., I’d finally drifted back to sleep when this most obnoxious single note blared up from the street 5 levels below my hotel window. That was my introduction to the vuvuzela.
When I finally navigated the hotel’s Free Wi-Fi the next morning the first thing I did was update my Facebook status, or as I prefer to think of it: Tweeted to those people who really care: That I certainly wouldn’t be taking a vuvuzela home for the kids.
I was duly subjected to a couple of “woe is you” comments.
Now, as I return to Chicago from Johannesburg, I have a couple of vuvuzelas in my luggage, and lord knows how many more my wife, on a later flight, has bought in my absence.
By all accounts, the people of America have not grown to love the vuvuzela as I have. But, they will be the cultural legacy of this World Cup and I hope they endure as long as the Mexican Wave.
It is hard to comprehend what this World Cup means to the people of South Africa. Five days on the ground hardly qualifies me as an expert on one of the most complicated societies on the planet, but I picked up a palpable sense of pride among the locals, especially those formally classified “Non-whites.”
Unlike the rugby, soccer is and always was 'their' game, and hosting the World Cup is evidence that they can dominate a society without reducing it to another post-colonial African tragedy, like neighboring Zimbabwe.
The vuvuzela is their triumphant “Can you hear us now” call to the world. And, yes, I bet it sounds really bad on HD TV. In the stadium its noise is actually tolerable. The 15 Rand (US 20c) I spent on earplugs really only benefited roadside entrepreneurialism.
After Bafana Bafana opened the scoring against Mexico in the first match I noticed the liquid in the water I was holding suddenly vibrating at high frequency. And that was with half the vuvuzelas in the crowd being waved in the air in rhythmic celebration.
As for the French captain complaining it affected his team’s performance; Well, that is just asking for it when they play South Africa. Duh.
Of course, that other team that failed to play up to their own expectations, the English, whined that the constant drone deprived them of the inspiration of their fan’s song. Too bad, it’s Africa! Besides, enough English fans could hear us chanting “Robert Green for President” to keep me satisfied.
In England fans sing, in Italy they light flares, in Argentina they push the boundary between tribal passion and mob rule, sometimes with disastrous results. Every MLS team seems to have a small cadre of fans who chant and beat drums all game long. In South Africa the fans blow their single note horns.
Of course, the vuvuzela comes in many iterations. The one I bought before the U.S.- England game was decorated in red, white and blue beads. Shop windows are full of others with intricately beaded African patterns, but apparently not for sale. Some are shaped like twisted antelope horns.
More common are they slightly tacky ones painted or covered in fabric sleeves to cater to 31 national audiences. Yes, I found one shop with a New Zealand vuvuzela, representing my country of birth, but apparently the North Koreans will have to decorate it themselves.
Then there are the simple colored plastic models on sale at the Official Fan Shops. They looked like they should come with an official apology: “Sorry, FIFA is unable to adorn this product, as all available-colored fabric is being used to line Sepp Blatter’s jacket.”
Nonetheless, the vuvuzela was heartily embraced by the foreign fans. On my last night in South Africa we dined in one of the plazas set up with a big TV screen in Melrose Arch – the loosely fortified precinct of Johannesburg where we were based. Think of a cross between a gated-community and an outside mall.
As I sat at a restaurant waiting two hours for my ostrich and sweet potato stack to materialize, it was hard to tell where the sound of the vuvzelas ended from the Italy-Paraguay broadcast and those being played in the plaza started. I reflected, that I was surrounded by people from all corners of the globe, sharing a one of humanity’s common passions, and embracing it with a truly African twist.
That is what the World Cup is all about.
Liam Robb O’Hagan is a former producer at Foxsoccer.com.
