Destination: South Africa

(Photo by Anjali Nayar)

Durban, South Africa

I stepped into Durban's beach-side Fan Park a few minutes after kick-off. The mood was relaxed, after all most people had been puttering around in the sand for hours since the Netherlands/Brazil game earlier in the day.

Past the line of towering palm trees, a giant screen was beaming out the match. Fans, covered in red, yellow and green body paint (and little else), were jumping around with horns of all shapes and sizes. In between the spontaneous eruptions of support for Ghana, children were using their vuvuzelas to build and adorn sandcastles.

"Ghana has to win," I yelled to my neighbour over the racket.

Rightly or wrongly, Ghana had become a symbol for Ghanaian unity, African unity, the African dream.

It has been hard to not become melodramatic about soccer and its power to change the world here in South Africa. There is little else that hits the headlines (OK, yesterday we paused to chuckle when it was reported that Paris Hilton had been arrested on drug charges in Port Elizabeth).

Everyone here has been living and breathing the games. Whether you are watching in the stadium, a Fan Park, or any of the tens of thousands of public viewing areas across the country, time literally stops.

The Cup has boosted South Africa's economy over the last month because of the injection of tourists. However, I imagine that productivity per person has plummeted. Most of us are glued to the games several hours a day - dressing up, marching and, of course, celebrating.




Ghana has been the fixation of most of the continent's support because it was the only African team to make it past the group round of the competition. But it's more than that.

Most people didn't expect Ghana to succeed this year without its big names Michael Essien and Haminu Draman.  But as Africa's other big names like Samuel Eto'o and Didier Drogba led their sides nowhere in particular, Ghana's game earned new respect.

"Basically they are playing as a team -- a TEAM -- that's how you win a championship," said Papa Yaw Annan, an events coordinator from Accra

Tied 1-1

The dregs of the game showed moments of brilliance by both sides.  

"I'm having a heart attack," the meaty man beside me yelled. He was sporting large plastic yellow glasses, a wacky miner's hat and a yellow South African jersey. In his left hand was a large framed photograph of Nelson Mandela and in his right, a large vuvuzela.

When the final penalty in overtime was called, hugs, parps, hoots and screeches radiated from the now-packed park (we didn't know at that point it was a deliberate hand ball), The man beside me threw me over his shoulder and shook me vigorously in celebration. Shake shake shake.

And then, in a split second, before I could even internalize what happened, it was over. I had to watch the replay twice before I believe it. Crossbar.

During penalties my legs rattled under me involuntarily. I couldn't tell if it was the cold or my fervour getting the best of me. I knew it was "Time for Africa" to move on.

Within five minutes, the Fan Park in Durban was empty but for a few drunken souls wriggling about in the sand.

Yes, Ghana equalled Africa's record in the World Cup, and yes maybe no-one really expected Ghana to get much further than the semi-finals -- their next match would be against the Netherlands. But on African soil, we thought, we dreamed, we prayed that it might happen.

There wasn't a party in Durban that night. I'm pretty sure everyone went to bed early across the continent.

"It's so quiet now in Africa...the dream is over," Ange Aboa, a journalist from Ivory Coast, said. "Sleep now."