Destination: South Africa

Photo by Anjali Nayar

Johannesburg, South Africa

I've always said that wherever you go, 99% of the people you meet are good.  Well, I decided to go watch the Bafana Bafana game this week with the other 1 percent.

It was after dark and near freezing when I made my way to Johannesburg's Leeuwkop Prison for kick-off. The well-lit upscale streets of Sandton were well behind me when I pulled into the gate.

I'd been down to the prison before, no big deal. But that was during the day, and with other journalists. This time I felt a surge of adrenaline, as the gate opened and I filed through.

Inside the prison compound, the road to "Medium C" was longer than I remembered. I passed the quaint cottages of the prison staff, and the vast agricultural fields. During the day, the fields were dotted with orange -- inmates in bright jumpsuits tending to the cabbages. Now it was all black.

Straight. Left. Right. Left. I couldn't remember the last road. I saw a shape moving in a lit bungalow and I thought about stopping to ask for directions. A second look and I realized it was an orange jumpsuit. Better keep moving.

A climb over a hill and I arrived at my destination. My reporting equipment clashed against the metal as I squeezed through the revolving grates, one after another after another.

A crew of security personnel greeted me. Yellow and green South African jerseys and scarves peeked out of their drab brown trench coats. They were all clearly ready for the game.

As we stepped into the inner prison, I could feel the excitement building. There were songs and chants (and parps) coming from the various corners of the grounds. Inside one of the juvenile cells, a group of young men had launched into patriotic songs.

They barely noticed as I walked into their cell. They were too busy bouncing around in their matching maroon sweatpants, woollen sweaters and grey and blue sneakers:

"Shosholoza, Shosholoza,  Kulezontaba  Stimela Sphuma South Africa. Wenu Yabaleka, Wenu Yabaleka,  Kulezontaba, Stimela Sphuma South Africa ..."

You've probably heard the song coming from your television screens (between the vuvu blasts). It's an old workers song that has become the unofficial sporting anthem of the country. It translates roughly as:

"Shosholoza, Shosholoza (onomatopoeia - the sound of the train moving) on those mountains, train from South Africa. The training is gaining speed, the train is gaining speed on those mountains, train from South Africa."

You can check out Ladysmith Black Mambazo's version of the song here.

Back to the prison bunks

Despite the motivational music, the room's institutional bunks were sad and drooping with drying soccer gear.  Worn posters of Bafana Bafana and Christiano Ronaldo adorned the young men's bed stands.

The guards harped up and suddenly the music stopped. The young men crouched in a corner to be counted, then filed out the door. Squat, count, continue.

Watching the game outside their cells was a privilege. They aren't usually allowed out at night, lest they get "lost."

But in the last couple weeks the young men have been extremely well-behaved. The juvenile section of the prison received a donation of flat screen televisions and projector screens from Ericsson South Africa - making the World Cup front and centre at the prison. You can see my photo essay of the day the prison received the screens here (link).

Medium C is usually filled with a good dose of gang mentality and violence. It's a juvenile centre but many of the offenders are clearly adults, well into their twenties (they lie about their age at the time of arrest). The men are in for armed robbery, rape, even murder.

"I used to be one of the gangsters - I was a 28 [one of the gangs]. So when you are a member of a gang, you are not supposed to mingle with other gangsters or else they will take it as though you are a back-stabber," said Tebogo Moloi, allegedly 21, who will be released in 2013, after serving five years.

"The [gangsters] usually stay at their own corners," said Calvin Mekgwe, also allegedly 21, and who will be released in August after serving two years for armed robbery. "But now since there is a big screen, which is one, obviously we have to come under the same roof to watch the games."

"When you watch football you can talk to anyone," Mekgue added. "Being a 26 or a 28 [different gangs], I'm still going to have to talk with you, celebrate with you, and at the end of the day, I'm going to hug you - cause I feel it, you see."

The young men are still impressionable and soccer can potentially help change their outlook on life says Metsing Motshegoa, the deputy-director of the correctional facility. The prison has started training a team and Motshegoa has noticed a remarked difference in the behaviour of the boys who play.

"The spirit that is prevailing in South Africa should be prevailing in this prison too -- these boys should be feeling it the same feeling that the outside community is feeling it," he said.

For the guards here, the World Cup is also yet another way to help maintain the peace by giving the offenders something to do. It can also be used for blackmail. 

"We can use [the screens] to say if you don't behave, we will take this privilege away from you," said Maotshegoa.

Prisoners with rights

Not everyone here agrees that young offenders should share in the soccer spirit gripping the country.

"These guys have more rights than I do," said one of my friends, Roux, from Pretoria. "They have a right to food, they have a right to medical care, they have a right to shelter."

It's true, the prisoners get three balanced meals a day, access to a hospital wing, and now the World Cup. Many of the people, whose lives have been ruined by these young men - by robbery, rape or murder -- probably don't have access to most of these basics, let alone the World Cup on big-screen TV.

Freedom for an evening

The celebration reached a maximum as the young men made their way to the viewing area. They were toting what little Bafana Bafana paraphernalia they could get their hands on - a small South African flag, a soccer ball, a worn blue vuvuzela.

Two-by-two, they were like a wobbly maroon caterpillar, bumbling their way down the prison corridors, banging on the cells of other less fortunate (who wouldn't see the game on the big screen) inmates along the way.

They filed into the isolation cell corridor, normally a stark white and dismal place. A projector screen had been pulled down in the middle of the passage, illuminating the corridor with music and colour.  It was a replay of the World Cup opening concert with K'naan wavin' his flag.

The boys danced around the room, in anticipation, jumping up and down on the institutional bench. Fifteen minutes to kick-off.

The game. Hmmm. The game. If you saw it, I'm sure I don't need to say more on the matter. If you didn't, Moloi (the offender out in 2013), said this about it:

"This game we thought maybe 'the boys' would do better than the last game," he said. "It's not that much exciting for our nation actually to lose in such a score while we are hosting a World Cup."

As the clock wore thin, the cheering and parps turned to yelling in languages I didn't understand. Some of the young men simply bowed their heads away from the screen.

None of the offenders were particularly patriotic to begin with (after all it was the state that threw them in prison). But their love for their country had been renewed by the World Cup, the hope that Bafana Bafana would do well.

Now, the flag wavin' was over.

Minutes before the end of the game - another goal. The offenders got up and walked over to the corner of the room and squatted to be counted. They would rather go back to their cell than watch any more.

"They still have hope," Maotshegoa, the centre's deputy-director, told me as I was leaving the prison. "You know, we still have France to play - anything can happen."

But as I drove away into the night, it was completely silent but for the sound of one dying vuvuzela.

Up Next: Back to the stadium for Cameroon/ Denmark and Ivory Coast/ Brazil. And Super Fans unite.

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