Sean O’Donnell
In the midst of all the trash talk emanating mainly , it must be said, from the home side, regarding the current test series in South Africa I thought I would share my experience of touring South Africa as an Irish supporter during a previous tour, twenty years ago in 2004.
One of the bonuses of being an international Rugby supporter is that following one’s country usually brings one to the generally nicer, sunnier and more hospitable countries. However in 2004 the new free South Africa was a fledgling state and, as in all such cases there were teething problems with implications for visitors. In the case of South Africa security was to the forefront. With extreme poverty levels and a people with a well founded antipathy to white faces this was understandable. It was to be my first trip outside Europe so I equipped myself with guide books and acquainted myself with all the tips for keeping myself safe.
On Tuesday 8 June I flew to Capetown via London. The flight from Heathrow was an overnight one and with South Africa in the same time zone jet lag was not an issue. My only problem was my inability to have quality sleep while travelling. On the flight I met a very charming South African lady who was living in the UK and was travelling home to visit her family. She was being met at the airport by her brother and she assured me he would bring me to my hotel which was reassuring given that I did not know Capetown.
On arrival on a beautiful sunny morning the imposing vista of Table Mountain greeted us. It was like an elder brother to our own Ben Bulben. The lady’s brother was as good as her word and he dropped me at my hotel at the bustling Greenmarket Square. I marvelled at how normal everything appeared given that the state was only 10 years old. Nelson Mandela had come and gone as President. And it was not even Ireland’s first tour in that time. The 1998 tour was notable for two hidings in bad tempered tests. (Plus ca change?).
One incident on my first day in Capetown brought it home to me that the old attitudes and the tensions engendered by apartheid still lurked under the surface. Having encountered some Irish guys they told me that tickets for the second test in Capetown were on sale in the match venue, Newlands Stadium. I made my way to a tourist information office and went in to enquire as to the best way of getting there. I was not sure which counter to go to so I gravitated to a pretty blonde lady and asked her to which she replied: “Oh those gentlemen will help you” indicating two black men at another counter. I approached them and repeated my enquiry. They told me I would need to take a minibus taxi. I had read about minibus taxis in the guide books and knew them to be hybrid bus/taxis which generally took people from the townships into Capetown to work and back in the evenings. It was rare for tourists and white people generally to use them but there was no suggestion that it would be unsafe for such people to use them.
When they suggested this I turned and noticed that the (white) blonde lady had followed me over. She raised her eyebrows to heaven and said “Well that should be fun”. I felt for the man whose dignity had been assailed not for the first time. He attempted to reassure me that I would be perfectly safe in a minbus taxi and that people “like me” used them all the time. To my shame the woman had planted a doubt in my head so I went back to my hotel and they called me a cab to get there.
For the rest of that day I established my bearings in Capetown where I would be basing myself for most of my stay. Then early on Thursday I took the 90 minute flight to Bloemfontein for the first test the following Saturday. The first thing I noticed was the difference in temperature which was freezing compared to the relatively balmy weather in Capetown. The heating did not appear to be working at the airport. I was stood there in my Ireland replica shirt, everything else packed away. A woman with a big personality took pity on me and offered to take me to my lodgings in her car intimating that the local cabs were not to be trusted.
The woman insisted on stopping off at her own house en route. Her husband was a local Rugby correspondent and she knew he would love to meet me. We did so and her husband did indeed greet me warmly and lent me a coat to put over my Rugby top as he stoked up the fire. He then invited me to a “braii” (barbecue) he was hosting that evening for the Irish press corps. I accepted and it was a most enjoyable evening. Max (the lady’s husband) introduces me to another man, Willhem, who would be my host for the night and as it transpired for most of the weekend. Willhem was a kind and courteous man and showed me all the historical sites connected to the Boer War and a few Army bases where he was known (He was a former military man.). He had one blind spot like many of his compatriots-racism. It had been instilled into him all his life so was now part of his DNA. It would be pointless trying to convert him-I knew that. Yet he was an enigma. I found his opinions simply vile but could not dislike the man personally as he had invested so much time and energy in me-a stranger. All I could do was ensure that I treated every one we met with respect and show him in that way that I was not of a similar mind.
Bloemfontein in the high Veldt was a long way from the sea and the terrain was very flat and frankly boring though the array of wildlife on view was anything but. The city did not seem to have a lot going for it but Vilhem did his best to make it interesting albeit throwing in some of his customary side swipes at the majority population. On Sunday, Max and his wife hosted dinner for us in the rather large garden of their home. It was a hugely enjoyable occasion. These people were highly devout Christians and did not seem to share Wilhem’s racist views though the subject was not visited. In ad libbing grace before meals Max thanked the Lord for the “privilege” of having met me. I did not know where to look. Afterwards he gave me a copy of his weekly Rugby column, in Afrikaans which namechecked me. More embarrassment.
I discovered that these people were all involved with the local club, the Cheetahs and anytime I saw them play subsequently, other than against Irish opposition, I tended to support them.
Meanwhile, on the previous day, Saturday, the main business at hand, the first test. Ireland had never won in South Africa and from pretty early on it was evident that this was not going to change that day. Victor Matfield scored an early try and it set the tone. Ireland did score one try with the BOD combining neatly with Shane Horgan who finished the move in the corner. It was to be a short lived respite as the hosts breezed in for 3 more tries, winning comprehensively 31-17.
On Sunday after dinner I bade Goodbye to my hosts and Wilhem drove me to the airport for my flight to Durban which I had decided I wanted to see. On the flight I met an Irishman with a musical background who had been living in Durban since 1975 and had been in Bloemfontein to give the rendition of Ireland’s Call before the match. He would be doing the same in Capetown the following Saturday. He hosted me over my 2 nights in Durban but the city was a disappointment. I was more or less confined to my hotel after dark as I was advised that going walkabout was not exactly prudent. However my host had Rugby contacts and arranged for me to have a tour of the Kings Park, home of the Sharks, which I enjoyed greatly.
I returned to Capetown on the Tuesday to spend my second week in that beautiful sunny city, where the second test was to be played. I discovered the tourist mecca the V&A Waterfront which was policed by private security and was considered “relatively”safe. There were familiar pubs with a Rugby vibe and a Belgian restaurant where I had nicer food than I had had in four years living in Belgium.
I did the tours to the wine district around Stellenbosch, the Cape and Cape Point and local beauty spots. Everywhere people were genial and welcoming.
Saturday saw the second test in Newlands Stadium and it was a much improved performance. Ireland got into their stride early on and Tyrone Howe finished off a good backline movement to score in the corner. The Boks took over for the rest of the first half and scored two tries of their own. In the second period Ireland found their rythm and made it a good contest culminating in our no 13 getting a typical O Driscollesque score. With the score standing at 23-17 to the hosts coming to the last play, they opted to kick a penalty for goal rather than risk Ireland otherwise turning over possession and coming upfield for a potential match winner. The kick landed leaving it 26-17 and the try count balanced at 2-2. Afterwards speaking to the media over the stadium pa system BOD expressed pride in his team which smacked a little of gallant loser syndrome but that would be to quibble.
On Tuesday evening, following an unforgettable fortnight in South Africa notwithstanding Ireland again drawing a blank, I boarded the overnight flight for London Heathrow, On the connecting flight to Dublin I fell soundly asleep, something I had not managed to do on two overnight flights.