Classes have finally rolled around, after an enormous 2-month winter break, and it seems like I’ll be getting into the normal routine shortly. There’s still a lot on the to-do list in the near future including: Cape Town Stormers rugby match at Newlands Stadium which is only a two minute walk from my house (stadium depicted in the movie Invictus), Ajax Cape Town soccer match in the World Cup Stadium, Sunday concerts at the beautiful Kirstenbosch National Botanical Gardens (3 miles away), a visit to Robben Island where Mandela was held prisoner for ~14 years of his 27-year sentence, lunch at famous township restaurant Mzoli’s (which is like a Dinosaur BBQ, but they use the term Braai instead of BBQ), and a hike up Table Mountain which, surprisingly, still hasn’t happened.
Random UCT awesomeness: The main meeting point of campus, Jammie Plaza, includes a grand stairway (like those climbed by Sylvester Stallone in Rocky) where students eat and chill in between classes. Here, you can make new friends or hang with old ones and stare out from an amazing vantage point of the city – an absolutely vast, panoramic view of the surrounding areas that is eventually cut off by distant, hazy mountains (not to mention the comatose-inducing sunlight and 80-degree weather). Here, nothing is rushed, and time seems to lose its immediacy.*
Superbowl Sunday (well really Monday because it aired here from 1:30-5:30am) hit Cape Town with surprising energy at the local bar “Pig and Swizzle”, which became a haven for American G-men and Patriot fans. I give credit to all the Orientation Leaders who stuck it out the entire game, into the wee hours of the mornings, 
especially most who didn’t know the rules of American football. Like being teleported back to the U.S. for the day, trash talk, USA chants, and Giants/Patriots jersey were the rituals of the day. I was proud to where the Amani Toomer jersey that was good luck all the way through playoffs. It was great to see all the South/Southern Africans pick sides and get excited towards the end, especially during Eli’s epic game-winning drive – I would later find myself in their shoes during the African Cup of Nations finale. The celebration after the glorious Giants victory was a bit anti-climatic, as it was 5:30am, the bar was essentially closed, and people were just ready to sleep.
If the Super Bowl was like a wave of Onondaga Lake, then the African Cup of Nation (ACN) soccer finale was a tsunami here in the sports community. The Super Bowl made a small ripple through American students, those connected to American students, and the rare South Africans who actually watch football for enjoyment (considering the popularity of rugby), but in general was relatively confined and insignificant. The ACN championship pitted Ivory Coast against tournament underdog Zambia, which borders South Africa. Realizing a perfect opportunity to sport my Ivory Coast jersey, I proudly wore the Orange and Green to Pig and Swizzle, hoping to be embraced by other Didier Drogba-loving fans. Unlike the balanced Super Bowl group between Giants and Patriots fans, the bar was probably 99% Zambian supporters and I immediately received some menacing stares and dumbfounded looks. Within five minutes I shed and pocketed the jersey, not wanting to be stabbed as a casual Côte d'Ivoire fan. Some Zambians recognized my move with a thumbs up and other gestures of approval.
The atmosphere in the bar for the match was that stereotypical soccer craze that exists only in the American imagination. For an untraveled American, the only glimpse into this atmosphere has only been realized through TV coverage of celebrations in Rio de Janeiro after a Brazil World Cup victory, for example, or hearsay about intensely coordinated chanting from crowds at Manchester United games. On the way to the bar, we could here the cheers of fans from the street, leading us to believe we had missed a goal scored in the first few minutes. Making our way up the stairs to the bar, we realize the game hasn’t even started yet and those cheers were just the pre-game chants of Zambian supporters. The Pig (bar) was wall-to-wall packed with people – this time with few internationals/Americans – some being elevated, waving flags and leading the habitual “Chipolopolo aweh” chant in what seemed to be a cocaine-induced mania. The game began and the cheers continued, as every turn of possession seemed to carry the magnitude of a crucial third down play in the Giants-Patriots game.
The game was the classic 0-0 soccer tie all through regulation and two overtime periods, and would be decided on penalty kicks. Ivory Coast had two major chances, a shot that slipped right outside the post and a missed penalty kick by Drogba – the response to which was insane. Zambia also had a volleyed shot off a cross that hit the post and was cleared out. Even the PK’s brought the two teams to a stalemate, each making the first five, thus sudden death shots would determine the champion. After two sudden death conversions from each team, Ivory Coast conceded the first miss. Just when you thought it would end, Zambia missed, meaning another shot from each team. Ivory Coast missed again, Zambia converted, and became 2012 African Cup of Nations champs. Pure ecstasy reverberated through the Pig as Zambian supporters from all nationalities were embraced and joined the chaotic celebration.
I’m not exaggerating when I say that was the craziest sports celebration and display of fanhood I have ever been a part of. Immediately, people were up on tables, chairs, and other furniture shaking beers and spraying the packed room with rains of elation. Fans were shaking anything they could get a hand on, you could hear bottles breaking everywhere, and of course the Zambian “Chipolopolo aweh!” song was sung without respite (the best celebration song ever, which I still have to find). With the combination of wet floors, broken glass everywhere, and Crocs that have lost traction years ago, I feared for a brief moment that I would be trampled and suffer an excruciating death. Me, Lienda (who’s actually Zambian and a huge fan), and Nyasha group-hugged and were jumping around, holding the Zambian flag with others in the close vicinity. Eventually we left, although the celebration would go on; we could still hear songs and chants far down the street on the way home. All-in-all it was quite an absurd experience, granted that this celebration happened in South Africa, not Zambia or Ivory Coast. It was a good day to become an honorary Zambian.
*I’ve procrastinated on some pics but will add them soon
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