eMthatha othathayo; the concrete jungle

The 2002 world cup, there is a football frenzy everywhere not that new to me since at uMzimkhulu football was the root of every boys’ dream. The whirl only came in June as this great phenomenal event is held in the summers of Europe. This time, for the first time it was held in the colossal and vastly populated continent of Asia, Japan and South Korea were the joint host nations. I have had peeps of past world cups most notable the 1994 world cup held in the nation where the football zeal worse knowledge was absent. I know one would expect me to make reference to the 1998 'siyaya eFrance' world cup where our nation made its first appearance into the global arena. I want to forget this world cup my favourite team lost dishonourably thanks to the great Zinedine Zidane's decisive greatness. I shared tears with the controversy that preceded that match when my favourite player, the real Ronaldo mysteriously could not rise to the occasion. It played during the holidays so I watched almost all the matches, in 2002 I got 'sick' and had to witness again almost all the matches. The year 2002 marked my first year in the capital city of the formal Transkei, and like the world cup of 1998 I want to keep those years into the past. I never liked and would never like that place.

I wanted to be a football player nothing mattered and besides I never liked school anyway. School became a drag, Corhana was awful hated every moment of it, moved to Police Camp discovered something that could edge me closer to my dream, but football became a chore and although memorable and full of statue performances I dread most parts of it; it was my refuge. I must confess when I went to Holy Cross High School; though it was a prestigious school with a lot of accolades it belittled me. I suppressed the imposed insecurity by rebelling. My rebellion was spelt out of my marks excelling exceptionally in Maths and getting the ‘rugby poles’ in English. My rebellion gave me recognition and 'fame', trouble followed me, but it came with joy as my character of ‘tsotsi’ was received with much fondness amongst the ladies. I became part of something, the Fantastic Four invited me to be part of their syndicate team the memory of me signing that hand written contract still lingers in my memory. The other member failed grade nine because of that and one member’s recognition of my potential that even the teachers botched to  recognise (besides Mrs Fuduswa) I became a member. We did all kinds of things of which I cannot disclose. 

Like the characters of Scarface, John Dillinger, Jessie James the consequence of rebellion was imminent, I landed in the principal’s office for something I still believe it was unjust for me to be 'interrogated and prosecuted' (within the school confines of cause). I got a week of cleaning after school only getting off five o'clock to escape expulsion, I could not access my sanctuary the saddest part was I wouldn't be part of the team that will go to Beaufort West for the Transnet Foundation games, to go play with the likes of Ajax and Pirates. This marked the start of a phase of troublesome Q and my dying hopes of being a football player came with a phase of disinterest towards the game. 

The environment can make you do things you not proud of, the place or people expected people to do or think the same, difference meant solitude and Good God how forlorn was I since I saw and chose different paths? I was constantly made fun of from 'iwoh uyaboniswa’; even dressing different was an issue one could not express themselves without being a constant dupe of ridicule. 

Would I want to go back there? God willing, No! My football dream could have been gone, my love for the beautiful game could have been almost lost but it still remains, I am still intact and I cannot run away from the fact that the concrete jungle is part of my prime existence it made me stronger and more determined. Ndiyakubulele ndingakulangazelele kodwa Mthatha othathayo...