As a child, I was very active. My favourite sport was soccer, and the first international sporting event I ever witnessed with any kind of understanding was the 1994 soccer World Cup in the USA. My comprehension of the rules of soccer was sketchy at best since I was only six years old, but I remember watching every game enthusiastically with my eldest brother Vusimuzi, who was a skilled soccer player as well as a fan, as I grew older, I ended up losing my interest in all things soccer but come to the World Cup every four years, and my passion is resurrected.
Another important event in 1994 was the first general elections in South Africa. Having already experienced the trauma of the violence before these elections and the racial and political dynamics behind the elections, I was too young and yet, for some reason, I was racially conscious and aware of my “blackness”, and so I sort to support every African team participating in the world cup.
During that particular World Cup, I was disappointed to learn South Africa would not participate. So, I naturally chose to support Cameroon, Nigeria and Brazil, even though Brazil was not an African country, as my brothers so often reminded me. It was after this World Cup that I developed a nerdy obsession with flags and African geography, as well as a fascination with the lives of African people outside of the republic. Basically, the 1994 World Cup pageantry had a deep impression on me and how I chose to engage with world geography.
Later in the tournament, I then revised my list of teams to support and narrowed it down to one: Nigeria. This was mainly due to the poor performance of Cameroon, who, unbeknown to me, had been very impressive in the previous World Cup in Italy, and the fact that it had been revealed to me that Brazil is not on the continent eliminated them from my list, and when I saw white players in their squad it seemed an obvious choice to my young radical mind, radicalised by my surroundings and school situation and not the influence of my parents might I add.
It also didn’t matter to me that Nigeria and South Africa were rivals on the continent in almost every aspect of life; Nigeria’s super eagles had captured my imagination. Nigeria’s confidence against European opposition during the 1994 World Cup impressed me. As a young child, I already understood how undermined African football was and all things African in general, and so I watched with delight and glee when Nigeria made easy work of Bulgaria, even though the commentator had all but written Nigeria off and although Nigeria ended up exiting the world cup after a devastatingly close match with Italy, the gallant manner with which the super eagles played against a team that was to become eventual runners up made me admire the Nigerian soccer team and country even more.
Soccer, in a very innocuous way, became a political exercise for me, in the same way many people saw boxing; black people were literally and figuratively beating arrogant, racist attitudes on the sporting field; it was amazing. Fast forward to 1996, and South Africa hosted and later won the African Cup of Nations in dramatic fashion against Tunisia in the final at the FNB stadium. Eight-year-old Zano is not happy, however! General Sani Abacha had ordered the killing of Ken Saro Wiwa. The world and the continent were angry, meaning Nigeria, defending champions, could not defend their title against a strong South African team. This news was heartbreaking for me then as a child and a source of irritation even now as an adult, and I still have not made peace with it.
I was still patriotic, don’t get me wrong. However, I was itching to see Bafana Bafana match their skills against the Super Eagles at a time when both teams were at their best. Nigeria even went as far as winning the Olympic gold medal later that year. I have spoken to many Nigerian nationals since, and they firmly believe South Africa would not have stood a chance if Nigeria had been allowed to participate in that nation’s cup. I suppose we will never truly know!
During the Olympic games in 1996 (my first Olympic games), the Super Eagles, with iconic African players like Nwanku Kanu and Augustine Okocha, were in splendid form, dazzling the field with their green and white outfits and particular brand of African football. I was captivated not only by the skills on the field of play but also by the band playing in the background and the nonchalance of their play in the wake of serious opposition. These Nigerian youngsters were having the time of their lives, and everyone could see it, and for me, even at that tender age, it was an Africa re-imagined. Who knows, maybe this same squad of players could win the World Cup, I thought, and although I was to be proven wrong two years later in France. It didn’t change the fact that Nigeria had become a global player in the world of soccer and was taken seriously by even the naysayers who always seem to undermine African football and Africans in general.
Over and above the football itself, what I enjoyed the most was their defiance against the odds, the undeniable African flair and the blaring of those trumpets in the background that sent shivers down any South American and European opposition. They could care less about anti-Africa sentiments that permeate global attitudes; they were black, African and most importantly, they were proud!!
I then fell in love with Nigeria as a country and with Nigerians as a people. In my fascination with Nigeria, I discovered their music via Fela Anikulapo Kuti, and I found out that they populate almost every major city on the planet in a vast network stretching from China, Russia and the Americas. Nigerians do not follow any rule book created by white men. They seem to make up their own rules as they go along. To me, it is no surprise that the richest man in Africa is Aliko Dangote, a native of Nigeria.
We can take a leaf from the Nigerian book as black South Africans. I don’t care about the stereotype given to Nigerians as being the archetypical drug dealers and 419 scammers. The wealthiest nations in the world and the West European world, undoubtedly the biggest crooks on the planet, have gotten away with unspeakable crimes against humanity and brazen plunder of all other continents of the world in the building of their immoral empire. The benefits accrued from that plunder continue being the gift that keeps on giving, and they are yet to be held accountable for anything, so for me, it is obvious, as Karl Marx once said, that indeed “all property is theft”. Also, I dare you to show me coca fields in Nigeria! So, in short, “let him without sin, cast the first stone”.
What we, as South Africans, can learn from our African brothers is to find a way through this labyrinth of Western economic power without being apologetic about it. To develop a never-say-die spirit that does not involve us being beggars in the land of our ancestors! Nigerians realised, a long time ago, the futility of relying on the government for anything and instead opted to throw caution to the wind and find a way out of poverty through any means necessary, not only by nefarious means as the media would have us believe but through education, the arts, entertainment, sport and innovation. The evidence of Nigerian excellence is there for all to see globally. That, for me, is the Super Eagle spirit of our Nigerian brothers.
As black South Africans, I think it is important that we find this enduring spirit within ourselves, and maybe we might defeat this crippling ignorance that causes us to scapegoat Nigerians and other people of African descent for our poverty instead of addressing the elephant in the room which is the failure of the ANC to seek justice on our behalf from a white citizenry that is desperately clutching onto the mechanisms of the economy ever so greedily and without shame, showing an unwillingness to share.
We, as the poor black population of this country, are between the corruption of the ANC and a “white place”, you would think that in light of this predicament, we would find common cause with our African brothers who come here seeking asylum because of war and famine in their own countries of origin, but sadly, the opposite is true as we mimic the sinister traits of our former oppressors in the pursuit of wanton violence against poor defenceless people who are just as desperate as we are, and are trying their best to fight off the hunger that seeks to engulf us all.
Our enemies are not the hardworking African migrants we torch and brutalise at a whim almost every single year; our enemies are hopelessness, violence, patriarchy, government indifference and corruption, racism, expensive education, ignorance, inequality, landlessness and outright poverty. We must also not forget that we have it in our best interest to; “confront the most powerful instead of scapegoating the most vulnerable” (Dr Cornel West; Race matters), that we, the people, have the vote and can replace this government if we so wish, they too must not forget that.
Mr Zanoxolo Mkhize, a celebrated poet, author, and beer enthusiast, is affectionately called The One Who has Bled by friends. Self-proclaimed “Champion of Zulu Culture”. Zano embodies the spirit of Shaka Zulu’s spear. He also works as a tour guide at the famous Zululand Fort Nonqgayi Museum Village in Eshowe, KZN, South Africa.