Waka Waka to all our Black Stars

A few days ago, I read the Evening Standard and in the middle there was a heart warming feature about a very kind South African man who decided to return to South Africa to build a house for his black nanny-coincidentally he had two spare tickets going for a World Cup Match, and rather benevolently, he decided to provide this woman- Joyce Mbolo with a ticket. She was ecstatic, but kept it quiet, because many of her friends had wanted and planned to go to a World Cup Match, but could not afford it. The feature was touching in the sense that there was this young white man in South Africa, quietly making reparation so to speak, in the midst of all the noisy frantic celebration. It read like a piece on Holy Communion in the middle of the bacchanalia of carnival. It’s nice to see that there are still some good, grateful people around. In that feature, however, there was a comment which caught my attention and which stayed with me – Joyce when deciding to pick a team to support between France and Mexico, decided to back France purely “because they had black players”.


This led me to think about the way in which I aligned my position in the World Cup. When supporting teams in the World Cup, does race occupy a privileged position? Is it almost like tribe, trumping nationality? With the African teams it is very easy- who could ever forget the goading of Eto’o with peanuts in Spain and Italy ( to imply that he was a black chimp- yes only a couple of years ago) and his brave retort of dancing like a monkey and his defiant fist cuffed in the instantly recognisable symbol of black power? I will root for this man for whatever team he plays for because of his tenacity. I would have cried. The fact that this was the first World Cup on African soil made it all the more right to will an African team to win. So I backed Nigeria, Ghana, Ivory Coast and South Africa with gusto and felt that I was almost duty bound to do so. Algeria was a bit more difficult. Yes, it is on the African continent, but those of us who lived in France could never forget the sense of difference cultivated between us and them- Arab and Black, as different as A &B even though in some ways we were both patients, suffering the same disease. Still, Africa is Africa. They get a pass.

On the home front, I found that while I support England wholeheartedly (except when commentators mention 1966) I am especially proud when I see Ashley Cole defending, Emile Heskey deflecting, Jermaine Defoe scoring, Shaun Wright-Philips tackling, and David James saving the team from defeat. The Rob Green scuffle? I was gutted for him but just glad it wasn’t a black man who was the fall guy (for once!). Why shouldn’t I be? It was not even 50 years ago that Jack Leslie, a black man, was selected to play for England but was not afforded the opportunity to get on the pitch because of the colour of his skin. It was only in 2005 that Ivoirian Marc Zoro was reduced to tears on the pitch, and as an act of protest, took the ball and threatened to leave the field because of racist taunts from Inter Milan. Bravely, he was convinced to finish the game, but explained later that he had been playing for Italy for three years and that he encountered such daily. It was also only in 2004 that Ashley Cole and Shaun Wright Phillips were taunted with racist insults- the Spanish FA was fined £44,000- peanuts. I have read about the abuse that Paul Canonville faced as the first black player to play for Chelsea from his own fans shouting “we don’t want the nigger” and the bananas landing at his feet-I have no doubt that the almost holy black allegiance to teams like Arsenal and Tottenham stems back to this. Paul explains that this went on for more than two and a half years and even when he scored his own fans shouted “it’s still 0-0 the nigger scored, it doesn’t count”. Notably, his career ended when he got into a pre-season fight with a teammate who called him “a black cock”. He was transferred to Reading.

For all other teams, I am afraid that I do feel the same way as Joyce. Indeed we have come a long way- for example in England, Paul Ince was the first black captain of the England team in 1983 and this weekend we just saw Ashley Cole become the most capped black player for England (80 caps). However, whenever I do not have any particular allegiance to a team, it is true that I support the team which has the most black players. I am sure that there are worse reasons. In fact, I could not think of a better criterion. There are a few genuine multiculturalists who love to say that we now live in a post racial society but they need only have a quick look at the Daily Mail’s vitriol against Germany’s “foreign team” who despite being born in Germany are labelled not true Germans. Also, France’s exit out of the World Cup which was largely blamed on Anelka led to a blanket statement of condemnation from senior ministers of the “scum who grew up on council estates in the banlieue”; he could not have been speaking about any other players other than the players from poor and yes, black, backgrounds who inhabit the cites at the edge of Paris- the same “scum” mind you who brought them to victory no less than a few years ago. In the Caribbean, we have has always appeared unwavering in its support of Brazil- this possibly stemmed from the rise of Pele and his ascendancy as a top player of African hue taking his place not among the best, but as the best. However, whilst I have tremendous respect for the Brazilian side, I must say that their almost caste-like reliance on colour for social ascendancy does not sit very well with me, so my support is grudging.

This is why I shared an almost universal pride for Ghana when it trounced the United States of America yesterday. This one was for Africa, for us. And it was particularly telling that it was the proverbial Black Stars who achieved this- based on the Marcus Garveyite Black Star on the Ghanaian flag- symbol of post colonial liberty. When I visited Ghana I was so impressed by the resilience and warmth of its people, I am not surprised that it is the team charging the way forward. Trite as it might seem, it is really a symbol of what the developing world can do, on near equal footing. Were the game not so passionate, I would say it was probably part of the political machinery to ensure that at least one African team was left standing, and that one African country would charge forward as a beacon pilot project for illustrating the benefits of democracy. Jerome Boateng, who is half German and half Ghanaian, and who opted to play for Germany whilst his half brother Kevin-Prince Boateng played for Ghana must be bereft. I read that the players gathered in the hotel to drum the djembe and sing African battle songs. Our stars are indeed ascending.