By Ilonka Nazziwa

I have a confession to make; I am not a football fan, have never been. The closest I ever came to being a fan was about three years ago when Chelsea was at the top of its game and was being managed by the oh-so suave Mourinho.

Incidentally, Chelsea was also the highest valued team and it had its fair share of good looking lads.
Yes, I was a fan of the team (never watched them play a full game though).
On the whole, I have been unashamedly football inert.

Some strange things have begun happening though.
I think I am catching the football fever. I find myself daydreaming of what South Africa is going to be like from June to July 2010.

I am imagining the heady intoxication of fever pitch excitement from the cauldron of cultures that are going to be blended in one place, for this one time, for one reason.

I am thinking of Africa being the focus of the world for that rare reason that is not tragedy, loss or chaos. I am clearly picturing myself catching sight of Cole, Ronaldinho, Essien, Robinho and Terry. My daydreams stretch to hearing one of Africa’s greatest legends, Madiba, speak.

But in my dreams I am unable to hear his words, I guess because you can never really imagine the thoughts that brew in the minds of the truly wise.

I just have this sweet assurance that as usual, after his speech, I will be left with that warm fuzzy feeling that comes from being human, a human from the same continent as the great Madiba (clearly I am beyond besotted!).

I see myself, with the eye of my mind, brushing shoulders with strangers whose only care will be football, strangers all going about life like its a gift on a silver plate (or silver ball), wrapping their whole being around the game, as they weave themselves in and out of the intricate settings of the Rainbow State.

Yes, the fever has caught on. I confess again: I can’t wait to finally fall in love with football. If only!