Vuvuzela "tradition"

At the opening match between South Africa and Mexico I was given free earplugs at the ticket gate. “For the vuvuzelas,” the man said. “Enjoy the match, sir.”

Still three hours before kickoff time the stadium was afloat in the incessant buzz of vuvuzelas. "It's a beautiful noise for the beautiful game,” says a World Cup advertisement. I lived in Lesotho, inside South Africa, from 2003 to 2007, and I often listened on the radio to the matches between professional soccer teams in South Africa. In the background was always the blowing of vuvuzelas. It was a traditional thing to do, I knew. But this horn drone at Soccer City stadium was different. Much of the blowing was coming from people learning to play the horns on the spot; I'd seen them buy the instruments for 150 rand (about $20) from the hawkers just outside the stadium. An Indian man in a yellow Bafana Bafana jersey seated in my row was getting mostly low fart noises out of his at first, but he kept practicing. Once he and his friends had figured it out my ears didn't get a rest for the whole match. My ears rang as I tried to sleep that night. Vuvuzelas in person were much louder than they seemed on the radio.
Over the last few days, at any time of day, from everywhere I've been in Johannesburg, you need to tune your ears for no more than 30 seconds before you hear a vuvuzela sounding off. This is not tradition either. Before the World Cup, vuvuzelas were only heard in stadiums when big soccer matches were being played. Locals know that, and they are getting tired of it. A Johannesburg shopping mall has banned vuvuzelas from being blown indoors, saying they're afraid it is hurting the ears of children. And the local FIFA organizer is actually open to considering restricting them. Anyone who cries that vuvuzelas can't be banned because they're tradition is lying. Vuvuzelas, the way they are being played around the country these days, is anything but tradition.