By Anonymous (not verified) on April 16, 2010

I have been to many a playing field in my day, and never have I seen a sports arena as breathtaking as Moses Mabhida Stadium in Durban, South Africa. After getting a private tour of the $457 million marvel, designed for the World Cup, I left utterly stunned, for both better and worse.

Named after the late leader of the South African Communist Party, the stadium is a stylistic masterpiece. The eggshell white facility is visible for miles, rising from the Earth in milky waves, contrasting sharply with the dusty, urban environs that surround it. The open roof has a graceful, slender arc connecting one side of the stadium to the other. The arc itself is a wonder: starting as one clean curve, and then splitting into two separate stretches of white. This is an homage to the post-apartheid South African flag, with the stripes meant to symbolize, as the government website states, “the convergence of diverse elements within South African society, taking the road ahead in unity.” Well-heeled adrenalin junkies can even go to the top of the arc and bungee-swing across the pitch.

On one side of the stadium behind the goal is a completely open vista in the shape of a mammoth square called “the window unto Durban,” and sure enough, the Durban skyline backdrops the stadium through this “window.” But the true engineering achievement of the Moses Mabhida stadium is the bleachers section. It angles up with such subtlety that the effect is of a saucer instead of a bowl. Every one of the 74,000 seats has a picture perfect sightline on the action, whether you are in the nosebleeds or the corporate boxes. The seats themselves are painted in rich colors: The first level is royal blue to represent the ocean, the middle ones are green to signify the land, and the top is brown, as a sportswriter said to me, “so it looks full on television.”

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The most striking color in the stadium is not in the bleachers, though. It’s the grass. The grass is a green so bright it hurts the eyes, with every blade appearing as if it were painstakingly colored with a magic marker. This has been created with the aid of near-infinite gallons of water, which I saw constantly irrigating the field.

This is a country where staggering wealth and poverty already stand side by side. The World Cup, far from helping this situation, is just putting a magnifying glass on every blemish of this post-apartheid nation.

To see a country already dotted with perfectly usable stadiums spend approximately $6 billion on new facilities is to notice a squandering of resources that is unconscionable.

To see endless gallons of water wasted on the soccer pitch, in a country where lack of access to water is spurring protests throughout the townships, is to recognize a reckless disregard for the people’s needs.

To see an architectural marvel like the Moses Mabhida Stadium in a country where access to clean and affordable shelter is a pipe dream for so many is to witness the interests of government colliding with the people it has been elected to serve.

And to see a stadium named in honor of Moses Mabhida, who symbolizes anti-poverty struggles for millions of South Africans, is to stare at irony in its most lurid form.

As the price and the demands made by FIFA grow more onerous, many are having second thoughts. Zayn Nabbi, the sports correspondent for South Africa’s e.tv, gave me the stadium tour. Nabbi looked around and said, “The Moses Mabhida Stadium, structurally, is brilliant. World class. However, it’s difficult to think that this was right. There are areas in dire need of funding. We were all so caught up in the love story of winning the World Cup—the romance of it all—we didn’t grasp or we weren’t told the repercussions. We all got caught up in the spin. I put myself in that category certainly. The hangover when this is all done will be brutal, man.”

This may be one of those times when the hangover starts before the party is even over. Townships organizations have already called for protests during the World Cup if demands for basic public services aren’t met. That’s what happens when the grass water is clean but the wells of drinking water—along with FIFA’s politics—are absolutely filthy.

If you liked this article, you might want to read Dave Zirin's column, "Boycott the Diamondbacks,"" in our June issue. Zirin, by the way, writes a column every month for The Progressive on the politics of sports.

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By Wendell Berry

Manifesto: The Mad Farmer Liberation Front

Love the quick profit, the annual raise,
vacation with pay. Want more 
of everything ready made. Be afraid 
to know your neighbors and to die.
And you will have a window in your head.
Not even your future will be a mystery 
any more. Your mind will be punched in a card 
and shut away in a little drawer.
When they want you to buy something 
they will call you. When they want you
to die for profit they will let you know. 
So, friends, every day do something
that won’t compute. Love the Lord. 
Love the world. Work for nothing. 
Take all that you have and be poor.
Love someone who does not deserve it. 
Denounce the government and embrace 
the flag. Hope to live in that free 
republic for which it stands. 
Give your approval to all you cannot
understand. Praise ignorance, for what man 
has not encountered he has not destroyed.
Ask the questions that have no answers. 
Invest in the millennium. Plant sequoias.
Say that your main crop is the forest
that you did not plant,
that you will not live to harvest.


Say that the leaves are harvested 
when they have rotted into the mold.
Call that profit. Prophesy such returns.
Put your faith in the two inches of humus 
that will build under the trees
every thousand years.
Listen to carrion—put your ear
close, and hear the faint chattering
of the songs that are to come. 
Expect the end of the world. Laugh. 
Laughter is immeasurable. Be joyful
though you have considered all the facts. 
So long as women do not go cheap 
for power, please women more than men.
Ask yourself: Will this satisfy 
a woman satisfied to bear a child?
Will this disturb the sleep 
of a woman near to giving birth? 
Go with your love to the fields.
Lie easy in the shade. Rest your head 
in her lap. Swear allegiance 
to what is nighest your thoughts.
As soon as the generals and the politicos 
can predict the motions of your mind, 
lose it. Leave it as a sign 
to mark the false trail, the way 
you didn’t go. Be like the fox 
who makes more tracks than necessary, 
some in the wrong direction.
Practice resurrection.

Wendell Berry is a poet, farmer, and environmentalist in Kentucky. This poem, first published in 1973, is reprinted by permission of the author and appears in his “New Collected Poems” (Counterpoint).

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