And the Zulus say – ‘bring joy and happiness’.
Dang! The pop-star shooters say.
Doggone it! The goaltenders say.
Nice! Some coaches say.
What? Some other coaches ask.
The Jabulani swerves and spins and twists and turns,
You can’t control me,
You can’t own me,
But you can run with me or you can run after me;
I am Jabulani – rejoice!
Then the infernal monotonic sound pierce our ears,
Lepatata is its Tswana name,
The ring tone of the war is sounded,
I am Vuvuzela and I am the sound from hell;
Hear me! Hear me all you watchers and warmonger!
The whole battlefield is awash with a rainbow of colors,
Flags of the warring nations quiver in the air,
The conspirators breathe with delight.
Let’s party the organizers say,
Let’s just do it an advertiser say,
The war is here.
The green green grass is splendidly turfed,
Let’s win this war at all cost,
Lets’ cheat, let’s simulate diving and feign injury,
We are masters of our destiny.
And so twenty-two men chase the Jabulani,
Some of the ball chasers are millionaires a hundred times over,
They dance, they jump, they hack, they kick and they rush,
And they cry when they lose.
The watchers sing and shout and yell and scream,
The Jabulani flies like a Raptor and it dives like a Falcon,
And the goaltender jumps like a Panther,
Opppsss – he misses and the watchers shrill with delight.
And the peacekeeper blows a whistle. A goal.
Dang! Three more minutes,
This war has a timer,
It expires when the time runs out.
The African sun is setting,
The war is nearly over.
Gosh! A penalty. A roulette;
This collusive War of The Worlds has just begun.
- Copyright – Ali Sobree @ AisKOOL June 2010