The deep sense of fatigue running through Danny Jordaan eases as, curiously, the longer he talks the more animated he becomes. His voice is eventually grainy with fervour, rather than just weariness, when he relives a tumultuous personal journey that, as the chief executive of the 2010 World Cup organising committee, stretches back 16 years. Mr. Jordaan's dream of bringing the tournament to South Africa began in 1994. Now, 10 days before the opening match, when the hosts meet Mexico at Soccer City on the outskirts of Soweto, the former activist can almost taste his vindication.
“It's been a roller coaster ride,” he says. “There were moments when my conviction about the project was challenged. And it was not just a challenge about the World Cup — but a challenge as to who you are and what you believe in. But after the sacrifice of so many during apartheid, we knew we could not fail or give in. Of course there was doubt along the way — but you never acknowledge it publicly.”
Mr. Jordaan laughs huskily, believing he is over the dark hill of uncertainty which sometimes threatened to derail the tournament. How did he temper his most severe concerns when confronting national misgiving and economic meltdown, crime and security, exorbitant stadium costs and slow ticket sales? “I call them moments of inner reflection,” Mr. Jordaan says. “I would go home to bed and mull them over. But you keep them to yourself.
“Even in the days of the struggle we had many such moments where we thought, 'Gosh, are we going to see liberation in our lifetime?' But when you go out and get on the podium you say, 'Liberation is coming!' You never show doubt. So, in the same way, I hope I've been consistent all the way through in saying that this World Cup will happen and it will be a great success. I think this is going to be the best World Cup we've ever seen. It's going to be a wonderful celebration, with intense emotion and all the passion of the South African people. The world is about to discover the real South Africa, and I think they will be surprised.”
There is, of course, more than just one South Africa. A nation riddled with murderous violence and staggering inequality sprawls inside a new democracy where humour and vitality still prevail over the bleakness. This is a country in which Nelson Mandela is revered for his compassion and forgiveness, and a country where Julius Malema, the vitriolic youth leader of the ruling ANC, spills his bile and exults in the ruination Robert Mugabe forced on Zimbabwe. Yet even now, with Rainbow Nation clichés long since shredded, South Africa can seem miraculous. Mr. Jordaan may be a politician but one facet of that miracle can be traced in his story, which takes us from the depths of apartheid to the heights of a World Cup.
This story, as Mr. Jordaan tells it, begins when, aged 16 and classified as a Coloured, he was exposed to apartheid's brutality in Port Elizabeth. “In 1968, under the Group Areas Act, we were forcibly removed from our homes. We lived in a neighbourhood called North End and, suddenly, we were told it had been declared a white area. They just bulldozed our house.
“As you sit there, seeing your goods being packed into a truck under police and army guard, the pain burns into you. It's a pain we still feel. To see your family, helpless, surrounded by police, watching the bulldozers roll towards your home, which is then flattened, you change on the inside. This is the moment the pain gets into you — as the bricks tumble and your home is crushed to dust. We went to Korsten and then we were moved again to Bethelsdorp, which is quite a distance from Port Elizabeth. They also bulldozed my school but I made it to university and joined SASO — where Steve Biko was the president.”
Biko died in detention in 1977 but, steeped in black consciousness, the South African Students' Organisation helped change an oppressed country. “I wasn't detained,” Mr. Jordaan says, “but I had police questioning and harassment and death threats. But I was uplifted by black consciousness and the idea you are either part of the problem or part of the solution. There was no in-between.”
Mr. Jordaan moved from student politics to a leading role as an activist and, eventually, a moderator. “I was part of the process to isolate us from international sport and, later, I helped our return to world football. We achieved this in 1991 and so to have walked that whole road and to stand at the end and look at the completion, with a World Cup, feels incredible.”
There is a dissenting view in some sectors of South Africa. The billions of rand spent on lavish stadiums, some of which may soon lie dormant, might have been better spent on health and education, on housing and the most impoverished. Surely Mr. Jordaan can understand that argument — especially when Fifa has apparently raked in $3.3bn for itself?
“If you make a bid to host a World Cup,” he says coolly, “you should not be surprised Fifa expects a world-class event.” Mr. Jordaan speaks in layered detail about the way his organising committee avoided the global economic crisis while creating widespread, if short-term, job opportunities. But he is most passionate when arguing that the tournament will “provide massive scope for nation-building and social cohesion”.
These are fleeting concepts but Mr. Jordaan believes they will be lasting pillars of transformation. He cites the scenes 10 days ago when the notoriously conservative rugby supporters of the Blue Bulls left Pretoria and entered Soweto for the first time to watch their beloved team beat New Zealand's Crusaders in a Super 14 semi-final. Beer-bellied and moustached Afrikaners were welcomed by black families lining the township streets while, nearby, a football cup final between Wits and AmaZulu was played at a crammed Soccer City.
“We had two events within 10 minutes drive of each other at Soccer City and Orlando Stadium with crowds of 71,000 and 40,000. The atmosphere was great. I spoke to the CEO of the Bulls and said, 'How do you feel?' He said, 'Man, die Boere is baie gulikkig! [Man, the Afrikaners are very happy!]'“
For the next minute Mr. Jordaan conducts an amusing exchange, entirely in Afrikaans, his home language, as he reveals the banter with his counterpart. We eventually switch back into English when Mr. Jordaan says: “Those Bulls fans went into houses in Soweto and said how wonderful it was to be there. I said, 'Yes, when the Boere were here in the past they came in Casspirs [army vehicles]'. This is the first time they went to Soweto in their own cars, with their families. It was incredible.”
Mr. Jordaan admits there was traffic chaos outside Soweto, and the football had to be pushed back 30 minutes. The World Cup, with billions of viewers, cannot afford such delays. “There are two areas which need attention,” he says. “We want to make sure all tickets are sold. And, clearly, transport is something we're looking at closely. There was pressure on transport that day but we've had a successful meeting with provincial and national government, and the police and traffic officers, to ensure this is resolved.
“The diversity of fans at Soccer City showed that the demographic of football followers is changing. It will change even more in the World Cup. We're seeing something we've never seen before — black and white South Africans driving with the national flag hanging out their windows. We've also been having 'Football Fridays' when blacks and whites put on the shirt of Bafana Bafana [the national team].
“This is what we hoped for — to have Steven Pienaar and Aaron Mokoena [the captain who survived a massacre as a child in the township of Boipatong in 1992] and Itumeleng Khune [the goalkeeper] who comes from a squatter camp. Once the colour of your skin determined your dream. But these players prove that the dreams of every boy and girl can no longer be contained by skin colour or geographic location.”
Mr. Jordaan has previously expressed anxiety that South Africa, ranked 83rd by Fifa, may become the first host nation not to qualify their group. “Things are better now,” he says. “There is great hope we can get through to the second round.”
Mr. Jordaan makes a wordless exclamation of disbelief when asked about the capacity of another stumbling outfit — England's 2018 World Cup bid team — to scupper their chances. “They must have learnt something from all their experiences and difficulties,” he then says, politely. “I will meet England's committee and hear what they think of the status of their own bid.”
If England are to overcome a series of gaffes they could turn to Mr. Jordaan for advice. “Europe has eight votes but they also have the highest number of bidders. The only two continents without a bid are South America, with three votes, and Africa with four votes. Therefore the bidders must, if they want to move into a strong position, gain Africa's support. It's absolutely vital.”
Mr. Jordaan will soon be free of World Cup machinations, but how he will fill the void? “I must start thinking,” he chuckles. “Somebody told me that when you deliver the World Cup don't forget you are sitting in the departure lounge. I must decide my destination — whether business, football or politics.”
More immediate emotions will engulf Mr. Jordaan next Friday. “Oh,” he sighs, “we always anticipated the day Mandela would walk out of prison. We always anticipated the day we would vote the first time. And now we anticipate the start of the World Cup. When these things happen the joy is almost overwhelming. It will be a huge day for me and so many South Africans. It will be a moment to cherish but, also, a moment to remember our past.”
© Guardian News and Media 2010
