Humour or racism? David Kekana on SABC last night... "This umlungu uyadlisa" or "the white man is making us lose"

THIS is the moment - all poorly-filmed 12 seconds of it - when SABC analyst David Kekana put his foot in his mouth on Thomas Mlambo's otherwise excellent Monday night show SoccerZone.


The sound ain't great. But here's what happened. Asked about whether he preferred Kaizer Chiefs goalkeeper Brilliant Khuzwayo or Belgium-based Darren Keet to play in goal for South Africa during the AFCON 2015 tournament, Kekana made no bones about it. He said he preferred Itumeleng Khune's 24-year-old stand-in at the AmaKhosi and said: "This mlungu uyadlisa" or "the white man is costing us" when referring to Cape Town-born Keet, .


I have no problem with the use of the word umlungu. This very morning my t-shirt was emblazoned with the word, which means "white guy" and Bafana Bafana captain Dean Furman knows when that word is chanted around the stadium, it is not used in a derogatory sense.

WHAT IT SAYS ON THE SHIRT: particularly
ugly example of the race group Mlungu

But linked with the idea that Keet is in someway inferior - so far he has barely put a foot (or a hand) wrong in the national jersey - it comes across as deeply offensive. And as my twitter followers immediately pointed out last night, RACIST.


I've looked up "uyasidlisa". On google, the confusing response in English was "Iranians" (go on, try it) but most suggest it means "helping us to lose" with the "uya" suggesting defeat and "sidlisa" his role in the side.Scelo Nciki (@scubkae1 on twitter) and many others helped me with that. 


Twitter on the whole blasted Kekana, not just for his utterance but for his on-screen performance generally, suggesting a lot of his "jokes" fall flat. When I retweeted some of those messages, Kekana stayed silent. The debate raged but generally the reaction was: Imagine if a white analyst had said: "The darkie is letting us down". Unthinkable.


Ultimately, that is the bottom-line. Using race to single a man out for criticism has long been a problem in South Africa.


The question is: in post-Aparthate South Africa how seriously should be take black racism against white folk, after those long years of pale oppression? Clearly white-on-black racism has always been the major problem. But are we now democratic enough to see both sides of this particularly ugly coin? After 21 years, I'd argue: It's time to stop judging on race, time to end the awful habit of declaring ANYTHING on the basis of skin colour.


Around 90% of the tweets agreed with me as we went to bed, only to wake up this morning with THESE tweets from @davidkekana:


"I was asked a comparative question about Keet and Khuzwayo I said he conceded 33 goals in 21 matches for club"


"In African terms someone with a white hue is referred to as Umlungu. Nothing racist about that."


"Well I am married to an Umlungu, so I get told every day when I walk the streets with my wife"


I pointed out that I know several white men who, though married across the colour-line, hold racist views. When I recommended a course in broadcasting, he responded: "Neil (sic) I have done media law and hold a bachelors degree. Please don't insult me."


I said no slight was intended and asked him to apologise, he responded: "To please you Neil?"


I said no, just to prove he was a decent bloke. That was followed by: "I did not judge him based on his colour! It's your interpretation and not a fact"


I pointed out that "umlungu" suggested he had immediately zoned in on to Keet's colour. Kekana, refusing to apologise or accept responsibility for his words, then tweeted: "Neil, I have better things to be concerned with than you. You are the list (sic) of my concern."


And then came the cracker. The response of all racists under fire: "Like all racist (sic) Neal has to point fingers. Does that sound like turning the wheel back to an era?"


By then Kekana was trending on South African twitter as the nation vented their feelings. You can read the tweets online now if you want. Some came to Kekana's defence, but most agreed: "Please apologise, it's the right thing to do". That is, in my view, still the dominant feeling.

Seconds ago, Kekana sent this: "I said Mlungu Oyadlisa, cause he conceded 33 goals in 21 games in Belgium. Get your Zulu interpreter to interpret that."

As I write, there has been no response from the national broadcaster nor Thomas Mlambo, the presenter of SoccerZone and a man who I consider a friend. We did Euro2012 together. Mlambo, as you can see in the video footage, attempted to put a sock in Kekana's mouth as the incident unfolded and after the ad break, he came close to an apology for his colleague's sentiments.


But there has been no apology from Kekana. It's not like we are asking for a pint of blood. Just a simple sorry. If a white man were to say such things of a black player - particularly on the rugby or cricket channels - all hell would break loose.


With Bafana preparing to play Mali in their final friendly tomorrow - and Keet ready to play after a lightning-quick trip home to see his new-born son Leighton - this story may linger. But I hope not. All it would take is a quick "sorry" and we could leave this all behind.


But to ignore it, to let it go, would be WRONG. Racism is NOT ACCEPTABLE. Especially on SABC1, our national broadcasters' flag-ship channel.


Or perhaps I'm wrong and I've been WRONG all my life. Perhaps it's acceptable. Perhaps racism is still okay in South Africa. You tell me, David Kekana.


I left South Africa in 1985 because I just couldn't stand Aparthate any more. I was a young sports writer appalled by what I came across every day working in Umlazi and KwaMashu. I abhor racism, I was arrested and had my telephone bugged for dating a black woman in Durban. I returned to this country in 2010 to cover the World Cup... and came back to look after my elderly father... and because I thought we'd moved beyond the crude divide-and-rule politics of the Boer.


I didn't raise this topic, ordinary South Africans did, the minute they saw you say it. Ask them what you should do, David. We are all South Africans. We are equal. Darren Keet. Even me.



If Kekana, whom I have only met briefly, has a problem with any of this, he has my telephone number. I'd love to hear a reasonable response.

The Dogged approach: Sir Clive Barker on OJ, his Aces in the pack... and football under Apartheid

Dog days:  Aces coach Clive Barker

CLIVE BARKER believes OJ Mabizela can recover the form he once showed at Tottenham Hotspur – by propelling newly-promoted Mpumalanga Black Aces to the top eight in the PSL this season.

Speaking on my football show BOLLOCKZ! on www.ballz.co.za, Barker said: “OJ has been fantastic. A revelation. He reminds me of Muhammad Ali when he takes his top off! With him we’ve got half a chance to win a Cup competition too.

“He seems to be really enjoying it at Aces, OJ doesn’t need reminding of what happened to him in the past. When I look at him, in that holding role in the middle of the park where Spurs initially played him, he’s a terrific character. A competitor. He reminds me of Mark Fish!”

Mabizela started out at Maritzburg United before moving to Orlando Pirates, where he scored against a touring Tottenham Hotspur. He was duly shipped off to London, scoring on a beauty on his debut against Leicester in 2003.

Homesickness and “a poor attitude” meant “Old John” returned to South Africa after only nine first-team games at White Hart Lane, but after spells at Mamelodi Sundowns, Platinum Stars, Bidvest Wits and Chippa United, Barker has done what he’s good at: get the best out of a 33-year-old who was generally considered to be past it.

Barker, who coached Bafana Bafana to the now-legendary 1996 African Cup of Nations triumph, said: “When you win everything seems okay but when you lose, it’s not so good on the bus home.

“It’s not just OJ. Bafana Nhlapo is the in-form goalkeeper at the moment, he’s hot, gone four games without conceding a goal (before Sunday’s 1-0 defeat against Polokwane City)

“I’d be disappointed if we don’t finish in the top eight this season, we’ve got quality players with the right attitude. I just think we all bind, at the moment we’re very happy about what happened against Mamelodi Sundowns, beating the top team in the league. But you don’t want to tempt fate.”

At 69, Barker’s revival has taken many by surprise. Including his wife.: “It’s all good for me, Yvonne is heavily involved in her ballet at the moment, giving a week-long course in Hilton, so I can get on with it.

“I’m not going to tell you how old I am – I’ll just say I’m close to Sir Alex Ferguson! There you go, you can work it out!”

And with that we cast out minds back to another era – the early 1980s when The Dog was a pioneering force for football under Apartheid.

He grins: “I remember when you and I were involved at Bush Bucks in Durban in the 1980s. You were part of that campaign that kept football going. Then you went overseas to Fleet Street – it’s nice to have you back here!

“You sum it up exactly. We did things that were unthinkable under Apartheid. I look at it and I think a lot of names should be remembered. We walked out at Orlando Stadium, they threw things at us, it was a chance to get even with what was going on at the time.

“A lot of footballers made big sacrifices, they should have streets named after them. Scotsman Andy Standton, the big goalkeeper Dave Watterson, little Daniel Ramarutsi… we had big strong lads at Bush Bucks!

“I’ve always argued that was the best side ever put together in South Africa. Bennet Gondwe, Professor Ngubane, Raul Gonzales (father of Chile’s Mark Gonzalez)… Mark Tovey at centre-back. Neil was a good player and captained Bafana to that AFCON but his brother was a better defender.

“Those were great days. I remember you taking Mark Gleeson to his first game to watch us. Those were pioneering days. It was a dream. The football was fantastic.

“Those were great times and we’re still going! We must have a cup of coffee with Lawrence Big Bear Ngubane!”

BOLLOCKZ! my own football show on www.ballz.co.za, airs every Thursday from 9am. See the Ballz channel on www.youtube.com for our growing collection of interviews with the big names in South African football.

You can also follow me on www.twitter.com/nealcol for all the latest sports news… and read my “Neal and Pray” column every Tuesday in www.thenewage.co.za.

BOLLOCKZ! is backed by www.topodds.com - have a look at their site for my latest sports betting advice and how we are doing in using @thumperpigeon's R5,000 to make money for the Ballz charity WINGZ OF CHANGE.

Basil D'Oliveira: Great knock Dolly, there'll never be another quite like you

Basil D'Oliveira. Cape Town docks, just after the Millennium, during England's disastrous cricket tour of 1999/2000 - you know, the one when "honest" Hansie Cronje engineered a result in Centurion after the Proteas had won the series.
And there he was. Dolly. My idol. The man who simply refused to accept he couldn't play Test cricket for his own country. Banned by the brutal Apartheid regime from becoming the world-famous all-rounder he so plainly was.
Forced to play for a "non-white" South Africa against Uganda and Kenya. Brought up on dusty township strips, but still a prodigious batter and a more than average bowler. He scored an estimated 80 tons on the rough matting wickets around the Cape before he was eventually allowed to play on grass.
Basil D'Oliveira, the cricketer BJ Vorster couldn't bowl over, the man who brought racism to the world's attention. Whose legacy led to the Peter Haine-led sporting isolation which ultimately resulted in ridiculous rebel tours, flour bombs at All Black Test matches and headlines around the world.
To my mind, as a sports journalist, one of the most valuable weapons in the battle against man's inhumanity to man. Apartheid. Aparthate. Great man, Dolly.
Our chat, with the gloriously bearded and now-deceased Mirror cricket writer Chris Lander, ranged from the mundane to the magnificent. Drinks were drunk. Dolly sparkled and shone. One of the great nights.
And now, at 80, the great man has died in England. Even back then, the first signs of Parkinson's Disease were apparent, though not dominant. They had a moment's silence at The Wanderers on day three of the second Test against Australia in his honour. He deserved black armbands, posters, television documentaries, the works. Perhaps they will follow.
Dolly's unique history cannot be written without reference to Apartheid. To his being classified "coloured" by a regime who put a pencil in your hair and a ruler down your nose to decide if you could vote or not. He was part India, part Portuguese, all African.
Born near Signal Hill in Cape Town on October 4, 1931 (though there are rumours he's actually three years older, making him a Test debutant at 39), Basil Lewis D'Oliveira was an all-round sportsman, not just a cricketing all-rounder. He played football and cricket for the "non-white" international sides but was shunned by the established white professional associations.
But enter John Arlott, the grand gentleman of cricket. He was the man credited with easing Dolly from St Augustine's Cricket Club to Middleton, a club playing in the Central Lancashire League in 1960, at a time when non-white emigration was rare and frowned upon by the National Party government.
Dolly wrote to Arlott, the voice of cricket  in the 60s and Arlott said later: “What opportunity was there for a cricketer, denied by the laws of his native country organised coaching; parental financial capacity to afford proper gear; the use of a grass wicket or a safe outfield; the opportunity to take part in a first-class match or to play against opponents experienced at such a level?”
A journalist called John Kay eased his path in chilly Lancashire, where he and wife Naomi later to remark on his surprise at seeing white people doing menial work and working as waiters in restaurants. Middleton only signed "Bas" when their scheduled professional failed to turn up... and the money wasn't good. Back in Cape Town, charity matches were held to fund his new life in England. Unfazed by his social elevation (from second class citizen in the land of his birth to ordinary bloke in a foreign land), Dolly was soon spotted by Worcestershire after topping the league batting averages ahead of a West Indian bloke by the name of Garfield Sobers.
He scored a century on his county debut, and another in his second appearance. Naturalisation as an true British citizen followed and after two prolific seasons at New Road, England came calling after he was named one of Wisden's Cricketers of the Year in 1967.
Despite whispers about his nationality from the conservatives at Lord's, "Bas" made his England debut against the West Indies at the age of 35. Who knows what would have happend had he stepped on the world stage in his twenties? He got 27 and a wicket at Lord's in that first Test, three successive 50s followed.

Then came the touring Australians in the first Ashes Test at Old Trafford. He sat out the second, third and fourth Ashes clashes but was back for the fifth at The Oval.
And now we remember the mythical 158, scored at just the right time to earn selection for the 1968-69 tour to South Africa. Somehow, the selectors contrived to leave him out. Rumours raged... until a chap called Tom Cartwright pulled out injured... and Dolly had his rightful place on the boat to Cape Town, his home town.
Then Balthazar Johannes Vorster, the South African president, made the worst call of his generally undistinguished political career. He was in Bloemfontein when he heard the news that D'Oliveira had been picked for England. Having been assured at the highest levels that the "coloured South African" would not be selected, BJ growled: "The team as constituted now is not the team of the MCC it is the team of the anti-Apartheid movement."
The world had heard enough. England promptly called off the tour, and the Peter Haine-led sporting boycott of South Africa, which hurt sports-mad South Africans so badly for 25 years, began. It would not end until the release of Nelson Mandela in 1990 and the rush to democracy in 1994.
Dolly went on to play 44 Tests for England, the highlight being the Ashes tour to Australia in 1970, when he famously wandered up to every Aussie available to push a finger in their chest and tell them: "We stuffed you!" after a 2-0 series win.

He declared his international career over a year later, ending with five Test centuries and an average of 44. But he went on to play for Worcestershire on a regular basis until 1977 when, at the age of 45, he topped the county averages. He kept playing the occasional championship game until he was nearly 50. registering 45 first class tons. Then he turned to coaching as the unfashionable midlands county won two titles in the 1990s and "Bas" had significant impact on the career of young Zimbabwean Graeme Hick, another who changed passports to play for England.

Dolly returned to South Africa after democracy, coaching the local clubs in Cape Town and generally doing good.
Years later, just after our meeting in Cape Town, Dolly was named one of the 10 South African cricketers of the century - despite being denied the chance to represent his country.
Even now, the Test series between England and South Africa are known as the battle for the "Basil D'Oliveira Trophy."
In 2005 he became a Commander of the British Empire in the Queen's Birthday Honours List. And the same year, they named the stand after him at Worcester's New Road ground.

Worthy tributes to a real character. Great knock, Dolly. There'll never be another quite like you.

The real story behind a big sporting weekend: Wembley, Augusta and Ventersdorp

HERE'S the problem I have. This weekend we have two massive FA Cup semi-finals with full houses at Wembley. We've also got a couple of relegation battles and Manchester United in the Premier League on Sunday.

Yet the Daily Mail splashes on their back page with "England terror threat". Some group in Algeria have apparently threatened to attack the opening game against the USA in Rustenburg on June 11.

Great. Give the loonies plenty of publicity, have another go at the World Cup in darkest Africa, feed the insecurities of your readers, don't worry about ticket sales and tourism which would help an emerging nation in their hour of need.

And forget the real sport. Tiger Woods chasing English leaders Ian Poulter and Lee Westwood at the Masters in Augusta, two arrests at Essex Cricket Club over alleged match-fixing. Oh, and The Sun led with John Terry saying the Champions League failure will help England's World Cup crusade. Now that's not a bad tale for a Saturday morning, I said that on Wednesday night!

But no, pick out the rotten, the hysterical, the frightening. Terror threat? The loonies make gestures like that all the time. The real story in South Africa yesterday, the one which will really impact on the World Cup - in a positive way - is that there was NO trouble in Ventersdorp yesterday.

That's where white supremacist Eugene Terreblanche was buried, within site of his farmhouse yesterday. His loonies, the Afrikaner Weerstandsbewegeing (AWB or Afrikaner Resistance Movement), turned up in their thousands with their out-dated, Nazi symbols. Their usually whites only church was, for once, bulging (at this point you have to ask, does God do whites only churches?) but the local black population failed to tear the place apart. Good on them.

Hundreds of journalists from around the world turned up in the tiny North West dorp or village... but absolutely nothing happened. One Afrikaner muttered "housemaid" when a black female politician walked down the whites-only aisle. And that's it.

Now that is a tale. No trouble in South Africa. Unlike the Daily Star on Monday, which said there would be a "World Cup bloodbath" after Terreblanche's murder. I guess we'll see an apology for their front page splash on Monday. Not.

And how about the stunner in the South African papers today - suggesting a used condom had been found at the murder scene and that Terreblanche was having a relationship with one of the two farmhands, 15 and 21, who allegedly hacked him to death? Maybe it's not a race war after all, just a grubby end to a spiteful life.

Strange days. But peaceful. Serene despite the mad utterances of ANC youth leader Julius Malema, who threw a BBC journalist out of his press conference this week in a welter of racist abuse. Serene despite the action of an AWB madman called Visagie, who left a news room throwing his microphone away and threatening a tiny black, female newsreader while backed by his armed guard.

Hilarious videos of these incidents are available on YouTube. Only it isn't funny. Despite all these problems, all this provocation, South Africans remain largely sane, largely peaceful, largely looking forward to the World Cup on June 11.

And that's the point we need to make. Despite all those years of Apartheid, despite a democracy that is only 15 years old, they are holding it together. As I've said in my book A GAME APART, I think the Rainbow Nation gets closer to the pot of gold every time I visit.

I grew up there, I know how bad Apartheid was. Those who slam the crime rates and rantings of the juvenile ANC have short memories. Corruption, violence and discrimination were part of the old National Party's agenda from 1948 to 1994. Every white man had to serve two years of National Service to keep their brand of Nazism in place, to make Africans feel like migrant workers in their own land.

But it's over. This is the new South Africa, ready to host a World Cup for everyone, from Nicklas Bendtner to Didier Drogba. All colours welcome. And they can go through the front doors of the hotels, sit together in the stadiums, share a beach. Even a church.

So bring on the World Cup. Stop rabble rousing. Celebrate the Rainbow Nation. And pray for Nelson Mandela, too old and frail to raise a statement during this week's turmoil.

Have a look at this, latest edition of Soccer Week magazine in South Africa...

magazine.pdf

Putting things straight... just written this for a South African magazine while watching Andy Murray struggle in Australia

STRANGE being a sports writer in London as we gear up to the World Cup in South Africa in June. You read all these stories about a country you know so well and think... how can these guys be writing that? How can they pretend to know what's going on, what's gone on? Where's their perspective? But you have no choice.

This week Martin Samuel - the best-paid sportswriter in England, and something of a heavyweight in my world (left, with yet another trophy for his writing) - wrote a piece in the heavily conservative Daily Mail talking about how dangerous the Rainbow Nation is, about how nobody would dare walk down the road to a restaurant. Oh, and he complained about the shanties on the way to the airport and had a go at "PC journalists" who held a different view.

He's a bright lad Martin, but he'd just joined 'let's knock Africa' brigade led by the snobbish private school types in London who dominate the media and push it towards the fascist fringes.

The BBC's Andrew Harding does little better in his scare-mongering piece, which includes a visit to Hillbrow in Johannesburg http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/world/africa/8479845.stm. Still, at least there's a positive closing sequence. But all this talk of flak jackets and videos of violence. What about London, with the Olympics coming up in two years? No stabbings in our capital? Couldn't foreign journalists do the same kind of muck raking.

Then there's Uli Hoeness, the arrogant German saying he never liked the idea of a World Cup in South Africa. How about flying him out there Rich? Let me take him around the country, see the stadia, witness the miracle?

I'm fuming. I've just spent six weeks in South Africa covering the absorbing Test series from which England escaped with a highly-fortunate draw. Martin had been here a week. I had a long chat to him while we watched England warm up for the last Test at the Wanderers. Didn't seem right or fair to produce a piece like that.

I'd told him my experiences. Centurion, Durban, Cape Town, Johannesburg... I walked everywhere, didn't hire a car. Wandered along the beach front in Durban, celebrated with the masses on Long Street as the New Year dawned in Cape Town, drank with old friends at the Radium Beer Hall in Orange Grove. Never a problem. The country improves every time I visit.

But the international media - apparently even the bright ones like Sammy - prefer to focus on the crime figures, African poverty, political corruption... even the tragic shootings in Cabinda, where Togo's team bus was attacked before the African Cup of Nations. But Cabinda, I keep telling everyone, is further from Johannesburg than Moscow to London. It's always been a troubled area.

I've been on 702, Sky News and opened lines of communication to Rich Mkhondo, my old university mate, at the World Cup communications office. Somebody has to redress the balance. Somebody with a knowledge of South Africa, a feeling for the country. But somebody offering enough detachment to come up with an objective view. And having an English accent helps too.

If you look at my blog, www.nealcollins.co.uk/blog, you'll see my arguments, my musings on the subject - and my visit to England's hidden training camp in Rustenburg with exclusive pictures. You may also read about where the other big European teams are staying - the German hotel in Erasmia has only just got around the building their training ground while the Italians will be preparing on a local high school pitch specially re-surfaced for their billionaire footballers. It's my way of helping fans find their feet when they get to South Africa in June.

And perhaps you'll find my first novel, A GAME APART, of use too. It's based largely on what I witnessed myself as a student, footballer and very junior sports journalist from 1979 to 1985.

But it takes us right up to date with current events, to the point when England are about to kick off against the USA at the Bafokeng Sports Palace on June 12.

Since leaving the country in something of a hurry during the Apartheid years, I have made numerous return visits to South Africa to cover the Lions rugby tour (1997), the cricket World Cup (2003) as well as a three-month England cricket tour (1999/2000) before the most recent Test series. My father still lives there and we visit, as a family, at least once a year, travelling widely and without fear other than when we come across big cats and rogue elephants in the game parks.

These frequent trips have, I hope, given me a special insight into a fascinating nation, so unique in Africa… and the world, when you consider how quickly it has changed.

In all my years resident there from 1970 to 1985, and on over two dozen subsequent visits, I never been mugged or car-jacked, or even rudely spoken to by a black man, though my university days were marked by constant conflict with the police, which reflects itself in the book I guess.

Some of my South Africa friends are outraged by it. One, my old head boy from school in Verwoerdburg (now Centurion) suggested I mentioned the betrayal of the Boers and said his wife couldn't finish the book, it was too vitriolic. But that's what journalists are isn't it? Vitriol is our merchandise.

And the events detailed in the book are largely factual, but condensed... names and places have been altered, some may feel they recognise themselves in certain of the characters, but in truth the characters are a compilation of the people I have met, the life I experienced. It's not just about football. It's about women, beaches, resettlement camps, brutality, national service. The whole gamut.

I judge nobody who lived in South Africa at that time, where so many were forced into certain roles by the incredible pressures of a violent, divisive society. A lot of the publicity surrounding the upcoming World Cup has been negative, with the focus on crime and corruption in South Africa since democracy arrived in 1994.

My perception is very different to that... I believe the country has changed massively for the better in 16 short years. I’ve waited all that time to let my memories loose, and the World Cup seems an appropriate time to produce a novel which will help people to remember exactly what the Rainbow Nation has been through in the last 20 years. My memories, my distortions in terms of time and emphasis, will annoy some, please others.

All I ask is that the reader recognizes this is how a young Englishman might have viewed the South Africa I grew up in. A strange but beautiful country riven by cruelty and mistrust and headed for a bloody revolution… until the release of a certain Nelson Mandela in 1990.

That South Africa is now in a position to bid for a major sports event, let alone host an operation of this scale, is little short of a miracle given what I lived through there. And that really is the point. For those who visit the country, for those who view it on a television screen, for those who read about it in the newspapers, I hope to offer some perspective.

Apartheid, like the Holocaust, should never be forgotten, swept under the carpet. Otherwise somebody will simply repeat the process. And that must never be allowed to happen.