If I’d heard it from the friend who rolled by my place around seven in the morning on Thursday, 25 June, I’d have called him a bald-faced liar. But while obliging my unexpected, hung-over visitor with a cigarette lighter, my timeline began to light up. Rather than the usual mix of standup comedy, battle rap updates and global news snippets, Bafana Bafana had painted my feed green.
For a moment, the world was almost as stunned as I was. Despite viral pre-match videos depicting South Korea’s brutal, machine-like training routines, Bafana had beaten them by 1-0. The unbelievers weren’t your local Vuvuzela-toting fanatics, or souped-up mining-hat-aficionados either.
‘Bafana Bafana’ tripping off their tongues sounded a lot like I do when I pronounce the name ‘Jacques’ – laboured, and giving too much of myself away. Buy-fha-nha Buyfahna. But whether from Italy, Brazil, Kenya, or wherever, people were giving their two cents’ worth about South Africa’s performance, while some SAffers were still taking in the z’s.
While some of us were still sleeping, the world was tweeting and TikToking — some dancing, and some throwing tantrums. We understood the mixed feelings. There’s the small matter of our government’s intervention over Gaza at the International Court of Justice in the Hague which has ruffled a lot of feathers, and placed us on the Trump administration’s blacklist. Then came the anti-immigration outbreak which made it inadvisable to name-drop South Africa even in the company of fellow Africans.
The back and forth between South African and other African leaders aside, the fight spilled over on to social media where it effectively developed into one pejorative meme, screaming match or hateful post after another. Prominent influencers and personalities in the diaspora came out to declare that, in this 2026 Fifa World Cup tournament, they would be putting their money on anyone but South Africa.
Many teams might have wilted under this kind of pressure, but this was South Africa — the little giant at the bottom end of the Mother Continent with a habit of punching above its weight. It still retained a bit of international affection, and still had hordes of loyal fans breaking into amagwijo – the singing style with a traditional Nguni vibe which is even penetrating rugby changing rooms – in the streets of Mexico.
There was the Vuvuzela, forgotten by much of the world since its global debut on home soil during the 2010 Soccer World Cup, now resurrected and nostalgically recalled by those who had been there to witness one of the most memorable tournaments of recent times, and the first in Africa.
Late-night party goers in clubs were blown away by South Africa’s second national anthem – the Mgarimbe’s infectious ‘Sister Bethina’ — and we watched them momentarily putting away the Samba and trying to get on in with the home-grown moves that go with the song.
It was amid this vitriol, cheer, and perceptions of being the weakest country in Group A that the national squad took on co-hosts Mexico on Thursday, 11 June. The opening ceremony displayed some of South Africa’s creative talent – but despite this still hovering in the air, the team would go on to suffer a dispiriting 0-2 loss to El Tri. Perhaps they felt their adversaries were simply unbeatable. Despite deploying a conservative (‘defeatist’, according to some critics) 5-3-2 formation, they still went down badly.
A week later, they pulled off a much-needed one-all draw against Czechia – this despite the fact that the Czechians had Bafana on the back foot from the start, and drew first blood in the sixth minute. This hard-won draw indicated that the boys were starting to shake off their nerves, and there was hope for us after all.
The star performance against the Republic of Korea greatly bolstered this narrative. No high-intensity training was going to help the Koreans against a Bafana squad that was starting to believe in itself. They didn’t. Bafana walked away victorious.
It was going beautifully, and Canada, mostly famous for ice hockey and winter sports, seemed like the sort of opponent we could make light work of. But a late goal – two minutes into injury time – by the Canadians put a sudden end to our World Cup ambitions.
Bafana might have a reputation for letting the nation down when it matters most, yet there was something patriotic about getting behind the boys regardless — in the renewed hope of them achieving something worth celebrating and being proud of amid everything else that is testing our collective faith in the country and its future.
While they might have fallen a bit short on the pitch, those distinctly Mzansi moments of the Vuvuzela wailing, the braai and animal skins, and people dancing to our music in foreign places might have been small in the bigger scheme, but it was beautiful to watch. And to hold on to.
Featured image: Bafana Bafana at the 2026 Fifa World Cup. Source: Bafana Bafana Facebook page.