The Sixth Sentinel

11 June 2010, Innesfree Park. We made an effort on foot after being drawn to a hault by the thousands of stagnant, flag-waving vehicles on the M1 Highway almost one kilometer from the fan park where we had hastily made our decision to watch the opening match of the FIFA World Cup. A usually cold concrete highway warmed up by the patriotic people waving their multi coloured flags. We marched foward leaving our individual means of transport behind us. The atmosphere was inspiring to say the least. Upon entry to the park we even noticed a group of South African fans carrying in a coffin layered with the Mexican flag, "just a bit of local fun" I stated to all my friends with a seriously sarcastic tone. Walking in was like being in a daze, we had to make a stern effort to avoid losing in each other in this manifest of varying colour and culture but despite our honest efforts I managed to lose sight of any familiar face on our way to the overcrowded beer tents. Shortly after forcing my way through to the entrance I managed my way into a bartering session with an Irishman who had already purchsed himself a fair amount of local brew, I stopped counting at twenty. I traded twenty of my Rands (the local currency) for two of his Carling Black Label beers, also known as Zamalek to the locals. I was glad to find out that he had no real concept of how much the currency was worth. After that whole ordeal I finally caught a glimpse of the colossal big screen towering over thousands on thousands of hurried and elated South African patriots. They were unbelievable. It was like every single person in that park were life-long friends. I didn't manage to get all that close to the front because a feat like that was nearing on an impossibility. I found myself making open conversation with a group of five or more Scotsman who had initially drawn me in with their impressive size of home brought alcohol. We shared jokes and mocked each others accents into the first couple of minutes of the match. Im sure most people didn't even realise the game had even started. A minute after the unbelievable happened. South Africa scored the opening goal with an insatiable strike from Sphiwe Tshabalala. The croud went absolutely mad, elements of drunken insanity. I was screeming and running wildly hugging and kissing any other person that had gold and green colours on. I had never seen anything so emotional. Thousands united before my unexpecting eyes and I was part of it.