The only thing missing from the atmosphere in Soweto after the Bulls/Stormers rugby match in Orlando was Nantsi’ingonyama bakithi baba — that stereotypical soundtrack that signals the start of almost every African film — or PJ Powers’ rendition of World in Union, the 1995 Rugby World Cup anthem that momentarily unified our nation at a crucial time.
I happened to be in Soweto for most of last Saturday, for my own reasons. But because I was travelling with a white person (who is seen as a tourist even though she’s not), we found ourselves in the midst of the quasi-superficial alcohol-driven colour-blind euphoria that saw drunk Afrikaner men hand in hand with the women who sell pap en vleis. Albeit nauseating to watch, somewhere in the cross-cultural displays of affection there were some genuine instances of boundary-breaking and “de-othering” by both the white visitors and their black hosts.
I find it quite ironic that it’s rugby, and not soccer, that has made white South Africans go in droves to Orlando, a significant district of the township that depicts the burden of apartheid and at the same time signifies the anti-apartheid struggle.
Rugby, with the help of GPS navigation systems, is making the township more accessible to outsiders. I think it’s wonderful, but watching the dynamics between whites and blacks, I’m not sure whether the common ground established by sports fanaticism will translate into an authentic sense of equality and respect for one another — respect that won’t be threatened by the Malemas and Visagies of this country.
Why do I say so? Because the interaction between the hosts and the visitors was still very circa 1995, as if the truce only happened last month, as if the past 16 years are less significant than we like to think. This was because many of the Afrikaner visitors were still being taught how to say Sawubona by the hosts, most of whom were participating in a strange hunt for white people to be photographed with. Though in all honesty, the whites were doing the same.
My white accomplice is a photographer and her pictures of newly acquainted friends are proof of what could be interpreted as a subconscious desire, collectively, to move on from the past and a stark reminder that we haven’t.
We are all guilty of maintaining the disparities that separate us. I found the hosts a little bit too nice to the visitors because they were white, but I also found the visitors surprised, to the point of taking the piss, that Soweto is a normal place with very normal people.
Cynicism aside, it was hysterical to watch a coloured guy dancing around a beer bottle, with people of all races egging him on. And even though it was for a night, it was nice to forget that a few weeks ago South Africa was on the precipice of a race war.
We need a lot more events like this, and to treat one another like neighbours rather than guests, if we ever want to get a point where we are equals.