You would have noticed that I seldom ... if ever ... use exclamation marks anywhere in my text ... and to use it in a headline means it means something ... but I must confess to a bad addiction to ellipses ... Okay I admitted ... acknowledging the problem is the first step to recovery .. (you see .)
It can only be in South Africa where a rugby match between two provincial sides can take on the 'historical' tag. Normally I would dismiss such talk as 'hysterical' but for once I am in full agreement.
No lesser person than former archbishop Desmond Tutu hailed the event as historical and who am I to disagree.
When SA signed itself over to Fifa ... the Blue Bulls from Pretoria also had to give up their bastion in Pretoria, Loftus Versveld. Now the Bulls could come from no other place in South Africa. They are almost more Pretorian than Pretoria itself ... almost brutal in their their insular smugness ... but they remain one of the best rugby teams in South Africa and well respected for that by friend and foe alike.
At the same time ... It may only be a perception but I always suspect Pretoria to be a bit more racist than most other big towns in South Africa ... perhaps with the exception of Bloemfontein... but that's a different story.
Now imagine my surprise when they, having relinquished their stadium to Fifa, chose Orlando Stadium in Soweto for their Super 14 semifinal clash against the Canterbury Crusaders from New Zealand.
When I first heard that news I thought it was some joke but when I realised that it was true I thought it was a good move ... but was a bit sceptical about what the response from the Bulls fans would be ... well I'm happy to report that for once Pretoria surprised me positively. The tickets for the match sold out almost immediately and Pretoria is going to Soweto tomorrow.
This was not the only surprise ... I also learnt that the Bulls are one of the teams in the country with the most black support ... Pliny the Elder had it right: "Ex Africa semper aliquid novi."
Bishop Tutu likened the historical value of the event to South Africa's 1995 rugby World Cup victory ... and he is only exaggerating slightly.
It is true that there is nothing that can unify South Africans across the board like a great sporting victory and the 1995 event did much to unite the country at the time ... Remember Nelson Mandela wearing the Springbok jersey ... just thinking about it again gives me goose-bumps ... I was in France for that event but the feeling lived on well into 1996 when I came back ...
Pity that Bafana Bafana is so poor ... them making just the second round of the World Cup would have the same nation-building effect as the Springbok victory ... one lives in hope.
So it is historical and there is a buzz about it ... even in Joburg where we tend to be allergic to all things emanating from Pretoria. I woke up to the historical value too late and have no tickets ... Charles Moore tried ... and failed ... to get some. We then thought we would just go and watch the match in a bar in Soweto ... to be 'part' of the event but then I remembered that it is George's damn birthday. So I'll watch it from Jan's place where the party is going to be held.
So I'll say it only once ... but I'll say it loudly: "GO BULLS!!!!"
.... AND WELL DONE PRETORIA!
Ex Africa semper .... Charles Moore got us tickets to the match!! ...
We'll be going on his bike ... this will not surprise you ... fills me with dread but I shall be brave ... he pointed out to me that the traffic is going to be bad to Soweto ... and I had to agree ... we need to go on the bike ... because it's George's damn birthday!! Not really even ... It turns out that his damn birthday is only next week ...
Welcome to Adolf, Barry, Susan, Anne, Madelein and whoever else is new here.
Showing posts with label Race. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Race. Show all posts
Friday, May 21, 2010
Saturday, May 8, 2010
Reflections on race and the World Cup in a bar in Randburg
I am waiting for my boss Charles Moore to give me a lift home from the offices in Randburg. Earlier the day when I went to get some Chinese take-aways I bumped into my old friend Roman .... he is really old (69) and an old friend too.
Roman is a German and a chef and in his most recent incarnation the front-of-house manager at a sportsbar called Paddy's in Randburg.
Meanwhile Gabrielli ... my other German 'friend' asked me to write something about the upcoming Soccer World Cup in South Africa.
The seminal event is scheduled to begin in exactly 33 days from today and I must admit that I have not reflected too much about it ... mainly because I think it will be a cheerful shambles at best and a total disaster at worst. Let's hope for the best. My money is on a cheerful shambles.
With all these elements neatly in place, I tell Charles that I will wait for him in Paddy's in order to study the local fauna in their natural habitat because ... Randburg is not Melville.
Being of a scientific bent I count all the patrons in view (some people call this counting business of mine a disorder ... screw them).
There are 48 after-work drinkers in view at Paddy's at the time I begin my survey at 5:25pm.
They are ... 25 whitey males ... 8 whitey females ... 2 coloured girls ... 2 darkie chicks ... 5 darkie guys and 6 coloured guys ... This is not Melville.
To begin with there would be more darkies, coloureds and women in any bar in Melville, but the ambiance is also different.
There is an urgency in the air that I suspect stems from the fact that all the patrons look as if they are in sales of some sort. They talk rapidly and somewhat too loudly (their laughter is the same) as if they are sniffing a deal.
I also notice that all the waiters, who are all darkies, also wear the Bafana shirts ... under some warmer tops. They have good sense because it is cold.
By the way most waiters in South Africa are darkies and since they only get something like 3,5% of their turnover as commission, tipping is essential here ... the going rate is 10-15% and it's rude not to do it.
This is not Melville because the waiters are attentive. My friend Jan once remarked that 95% of people would become uncomfortable if one would stare at them long and hard and the other 5% become waiters in Melville.
But I digress ... There is a campaign on to get World Cup fever going. It consists of 'Flagging the World Cup" meaning that you have to fly the South African flag. I duly buy a SA flag for my sister Emily's car ... car pointing out to her that it was not only the duty of darkies to be patriotic. I also intend to by her a French flag since we are both francophiles.
While on the subject of my sister Emily ... oh no ... it is actually the World Cup, I decide some more research is needed and I take Emily for lunch at Sakura ... a Japanese sushi and teppenyaki restaurant in 7th Street Melville. They do a decent if not spectacular sushi and teppenyaki and I'm quite fond of the latter.
Emily orders herself a French soccer jersey from a street vendor called Amen ... and I pay a R50 deposit for him to also bring me a French flag for her car. She is dubious about just giving Amen the money and i tell her not to worry.
Although I do not know Amen, he knows me. All the street vendors know me because I banned them from pushing their wares into my customers' faces when I managed the gay bar ... and enforced this policy .... quite vigourously. Amen took her number and has just phoned to say that the merchandise is ready for collection.
The reason for this outing is to count the number of flags on cars as a means to measure WC fever ... In the parking lot in front of Paddy's in Randburg I counted ... zero on about 300 cars ... I did not count the cars ... OK I just counted one row and multiplied it by three ... so do not say anything about disorders.
Melville is not Randburg but I'm disappointed to count only about 17 in all. But this is early days so I'll keep you posted about the number of flags I coun... see.
Everybody is trying to make a quick buck out of the WC ... my maid Zita wants to be a hooker and her boyfriend Martin is in on the deal as pimp. Some other people are planning to rent out their houses and live in their garden sheds ... I just hope more people read and follow my blog. It is a work in progress.
The latest news is that 'they' are now stealing the flags off the cars ... no doubt to re-sell as shop-soiled wares. Nobody knows who 'they' are. I know but I won't tell. It is especially the rear-view mirror flag covers that are being targetted. So be aware.
I will also keep you posted on World Cup fever but for now I'm off to watch rugby ... My team the Cheetahs are playing against some other also-ran team but the Cheetahs have been hitting some good form lately and my hope is that they will improve their standing from 13th on the log to say ... 12th. One can only hope.
By the way welcome to Braam van Straaten an lemartle ... or something like that ... one day you will proudly tell your grandchildren that you were some of the first to join this world famous blog.
Roman is a German and a chef and in his most recent incarnation the front-of-house manager at a sportsbar called Paddy's in Randburg.
Meanwhile Gabrielli ... my other German 'friend' asked me to write something about the upcoming Soccer World Cup in South Africa.
The seminal event is scheduled to begin in exactly 33 days from today and I must admit that I have not reflected too much about it ... mainly because I think it will be a cheerful shambles at best and a total disaster at worst. Let's hope for the best. My money is on a cheerful shambles.
With all these elements neatly in place, I tell Charles that I will wait for him in Paddy's in order to study the local fauna in their natural habitat because ... Randburg is not Melville.
Being of a scientific bent I count all the patrons in view (some people call this counting business of mine a disorder ... screw them).
There are 48 after-work drinkers in view at Paddy's at the time I begin my survey at 5:25pm.
They are ... 25 whitey males ... 8 whitey females ... 2 coloured girls ... 2 darkie chicks ... 5 darkie guys and 6 coloured guys ... This is not Melville.
To begin with there would be more darkies, coloureds and women in any bar in Melville, but the ambiance is also different.
There is an urgency in the air that I suspect stems from the fact that all the patrons look as if they are in sales of some sort. They talk rapidly and somewhat too loudly (their laughter is the same) as if they are sniffing a deal.
They are mostly between 20 and 35 in age and the guys are all in shirt-sleeves or T-shirts despite the fact that I find the autumn evening quite chilly ... but these are clearly hot-blooded guys ... I wonder why they they are sitting mostly with other guys ...
But I am here to reflect about the upcoming World Cup, as well, so I turn my attention to that... I count three guys wearing the Bafana Bafana (the nickname for our national football team ... meaning: "The boys, the boys") shirts. Of these two are whiteys and one a coloured.I also notice that all the waiters, who are all darkies, also wear the Bafana shirts ... under some warmer tops. They have good sense because it is cold.
By the way most waiters in South Africa are darkies and since they only get something like 3,5% of their turnover as commission, tipping is essential here ... the going rate is 10-15% and it's rude not to do it.
This is not Melville because the waiters are attentive. My friend Jan once remarked that 95% of people would become uncomfortable if one would stare at them long and hard and the other 5% become waiters in Melville.
But I digress ... There is a campaign on to get World Cup fever going. It consists of 'Flagging the World Cup" meaning that you have to fly the South African flag. I duly buy a SA flag for my sister Emily's car ... car pointing out to her that it was not only the duty of darkies to be patriotic. I also intend to by her a French flag since we are both francophiles.
While on the subject of my sister Emily ... oh no ... it is actually the World Cup, I decide some more research is needed and I take Emily for lunch at Sakura ... a Japanese sushi and teppenyaki restaurant in 7th Street Melville. They do a decent if not spectacular sushi and teppenyaki and I'm quite fond of the latter.
Emily orders herself a French soccer jersey from a street vendor called Amen ... and I pay a R50 deposit for him to also bring me a French flag for her car. She is dubious about just giving Amen the money and i tell her not to worry.
Although I do not know Amen, he knows me. All the street vendors know me because I banned them from pushing their wares into my customers' faces when I managed the gay bar ... and enforced this policy .... quite vigourously. Amen took her number and has just phoned to say that the merchandise is ready for collection.
The reason for this outing is to count the number of flags on cars as a means to measure WC fever ... In the parking lot in front of Paddy's in Randburg I counted ... zero on about 300 cars ... I did not count the cars ... OK I just counted one row and multiplied it by three ... so do not say anything about disorders.
Melville is not Randburg but I'm disappointed to count only about 17 in all. But this is early days so I'll keep you posted about the number of flags I coun... see.
Everybody is trying to make a quick buck out of the WC ... my maid Zita wants to be a hooker and her boyfriend Martin is in on the deal as pimp. Some other people are planning to rent out their houses and live in their garden sheds ... I just hope more people read and follow my blog. It is a work in progress.
The latest news is that 'they' are now stealing the flags off the cars ... no doubt to re-sell as shop-soiled wares. Nobody knows who 'they' are. I know but I won't tell. It is especially the rear-view mirror flag covers that are being targetted. So be aware.
I will also keep you posted on World Cup fever but for now I'm off to watch rugby ... My team the Cheetahs are playing against some other also-ran team but the Cheetahs have been hitting some good form lately and my hope is that they will improve their standing from 13th on the log to say ... 12th. One can only hope.
By the way welcome to Braam van Straaten an lemartle ... or something like that ... one day you will proudly tell your grandchildren that you were some of the first to join this world famous blog.
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