On the anniversary of the 1976 uprising and national Youth Day, the township was the only place to be, writes KEITH DUGGANin Soweto

SAKUMZI’S IS shaking. Outside, the long street is peaceful and lit by lights and the glare of television screens in living rooms. All afternoon, this bar in West Orlando had been waiting for this hour. It probably isn’t true that all of South Africa stood still for Bafana’s tie against Uruguay, but here in Soweto it felt that way.

We are upstairs in an open terrace warmed by gas heaters. The Mandela house, a museum now, is locked and unlit. Because today was a public holiday, the roads of Johannesburg were as quiet as any Sunday morning and people were in holiday mode. Football dominated the day.

Sakumzi’s was a natural gathering point after the morning ceremonies to mark Youth Day and the Soweto uprising on this date in June 1976, when scores of students were killed while taking part in a peaceful protest, igniting days of rioting which left a death toll in its hundreds and made the sprawling township the symbolic heartland in the struggle against apartheid.

The morning had been lit with vivid descriptions of the smoking ruin and death and heartache left by the police bullets. For decades afterwards, Soweto existed on a parallel universe for most white South Africans: a place best not considered and never remembered.

How different tonight. Sakumzi’s always gets a local crowd but tonight there are white kids born way after 1976 wearing Bafana shirts and sounding the inescapable vuvuzela. They are loud and the booze is flowing – regardless of the rush, the staff here do not abandon the excellent principle that all beers come served in iced buckets.

You can hardly hear the television, but that doesn’t matter. Form the first appearance of the South African team as they entered the stadium in Pretoria the place went berserk. People engage with football differently hear. The voice of the commentator, the opinions of the pundits do not matter. Every tackle is cheered, every Uruguayan attack is lived intensely.

The appearance of South Africa was the perfect conclusion to the morning ceremony in Soweto. If this South African team have become a symbol for an emerging nation, they were nonetheless tied to the spirit of the young people who died on these streets three decades ago.

The Sowetan sense of pride was best captured by Nomulu Mokonyane, the premier of Gauteng, in remarks she made after the speeches had finished.

“That fighting spirit of 1976 must prevail on the team tonight. We are a nation of fighters. We say to them they are the only 11 on the field but we are with them, including those who laid down their lives. We expect the best because South Africa needs to show the world that this is our time.”

But none of that would stop Diego Forlan scoring a sensational goal in the first half. For a split second after that goal this street fell entirely silent. After that, the long wait familiar to those who followed Irish football teams in bygone World Cups began. The goal from somewhere, from anywhere.

“We needed to change it tactically,” said Floyd Ntombela at half-time.

“We have nothing to lose. What have we need to lose? We need to take a risk, get more firepower in the front and better firepower in our middle field. There is acres of space and those guys are running all over it.

“We still need the win. We have our supporters out there and you cannot have a situation where you are dictated to. Uruguay are dictating to us.”

On TV, Abide Pele said the same thing.

Outside, Leanne Green stood talking with friends on the patio. From Johannesburg, she took a public taxi down to Soweto for the match. “There were 13 of us in the taxi. It is my first time travelling this way and my first time to come into Soweto. You know, I am 42 and I lived through the apartheid era and the annihilation that was perpetrated on black people in this country. I was sickened by it then and I am sickened by it now. To be here tonight is wonderful.”

At the back of the bar, Miriti Murangi sat with his friends. He is a solicitor from Washington here to support the US. “My friends are from the southern States and none of us had any idea had what to expect. We were in a grocery store the other day and the lady behind the counter asked us where we were from. We told her and she said, ‘God bless you for coming here’. When was the last time anyone said that in a grocery store?”

Seventy-five minutes and the screams say it all. A penalty and Itumeleng Khune sent off. These are desperate times. The chant goes up. “Save. Save. Save.” Forlan does not listen. 2-0. And worse was to follow. 3-0.

“Our World Cup is over.”

“When it rains, it pours.”

Disappointment reigns throughout the old township. But it is relative.