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Mother (Africa) knows best

and I'm so grateful that she does. Yesterday at about 10h00 I received a phonecall from my mom... "Where are you?" she screamed (I could barely hear her excited squeaking over the roar of cheers and the blasts of vuvuzelas in the background) "I'm at home," I said. "On a deadline." The disbelief in her response was palpable – "But it's the 2010 kick-off parade in Sandton today. We're outside the RMB building on the grass under the tree opposite the big Nedbank banner. The vibe is unbelievable. You have to get here!"
I did have a deadline. If I didn't work through the day then I'd be working through the night. So I sat on the couch in my PJs for a few more minutes weighing up the options and like any sane, rational Sandton girl took a leaf out of Richard Branson's second book and adopted the 'Screw it! Let's do it" approach. I pulled on my jeans and threw on my brand new Bafana Bafana jersey (that I'd had to scrum for in Totalsports a day earlier) quicker than you could inhale a grilled cheese sandwich at 3am after a night on the town.
A believer in paying attention to detail – I put Ellie in her soccer jersey too. After all, I've always loved a theme. Not wasting another moment, I grabbed my laptop bag, power cable, camera and all the other odds and ends I'd need to get me through to the end of day. As I climbed into my car I caught a glimpse of my mirror socks and felt a little surge of patriotism. The phrase 'Feel it. It's here' sprung to mind. 
I dropped Ellie off with her No.1 puppysitter my fabulous Nana and tried to call my mom to let her know I was on my way. There was no answer to that call or the twenty five that followed but I figured 'how hard could it be to find a little blonde woman under a tree on the grass outside RMB opposite a big Nedbank sign?' Turns out it's a litte tricky when the crowd's 250,000 people strong.
As I drove up Rivonia Road the traffic slowed and the sounds of hooters and vuvuzelas and cheering got steadily louder. At one point I looked around and couldn't see a single car without a flag of some sort proudly displayed on its rear view mirrors or bonnet or window. The I saw them – like excited, colourfully dressed rats emerging from the sewers, hundreds of people walking to Sandton's CBD for the parade. There were men in business suits blowing vuvuzelas and kids in school uniform waving giant flags.
This was a BIG deal. My mother was right. I'd have been an idiot to miss it especially as parking was hardly going to a problem for me (my permanent Sandton City parking bay would prove very useful on such a day). After a 45-minute crawl to Sandton I couldn't wait to start walking, I wanted to join the crowd, I wanted to join in on a chorus of 'Shosholoza'... finding my way wasn't difficult – I literally let myself be carried through the streets by the green and gold wave.
Eventually I got to the point where my mother was supposedly standing. I'm sure you've figured it out by now that finding her was going to be as easy getting your paws on a Bafana Bafana jersey an hour before the opening match. Pretty darn near impossible. I looked for her, I tried to call her about fifteen times and then just resigned myself to the fact that this was something I would experience alone. Five minutes later it was blatantly obvious that being a part of this particular crowd was the furthest from being alone I would ever be. You see, as cheesy as it sounds, everyone was really united for Bafana – we weren't strangers, we were countrymen. Proud and patriotic, unified by a single, incredible 'once in a lifetime' event. 
The minute the Bafana Bafana bus made its entrance I was like a kid following the Pied Piper... I didn't even realise until it was all over an hour or two later that I'd followed the bus along the entire parade route. It was all a bit of a blur – my camera's memory card may have been full but the mental snapshots I took will never fade. When I finally got hold of my mom late yesterday evening she put it best:
"If today was a barometer of our nation's health, then South Africa is fighting fit"
Pictures say a thousand words and I'm not even sure these pics do what I experienced yesterday enough justice. But I do know that I can't write it, so take a look at this album.

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