SCOTTISH Sun columnist Bill Leckie is in South Africa to report from the heart of the action during the greatest show on Earth.
He's staying in the country for the duration of the World Cup, giving his unique take on the tournament.Here, in his first day in the country, he tells how South Africa is erupting in festivities as the heroes of the football world descend on their nation, while locals tell him what will happen when the show has moved on.
COLOURFUL Tawo drags his cart from Soweto each morning, playing chicken with the traffic to hustle a living.
He has a winning smile and puppy dog eyes - essential tools when your job is convincing drivers to buy souvenirs while they sit idling at traffic lights.
Today he has South Africa and Mexican flags in one hand, and a bucket full of patriotic wing-mirror covers in the other.
The organisers say this is South Africa's World Cup.
But put that to this streetwise 18-year-old, and he shrugs with a mixture of confusion and contempt.
Because although he's as excited as anyone about the greatest show on earth kicking off here today, he - and hordes like him - can't help but feel like they've been denied invites to a party in their own home.
"I can't afford tickets for the games," Tawo says. "If I could, would I be doing this every day?
"Most people in the townships are the same. Maybe to the English or the Americans, the ticket prices don't seem too high - but to us it means every penny we have. So as much as we want to go, we cannot."
Wherever you go in Johannesburg, you'll find people like Tawo.
Young, black guys scraping a few rand together by flogging anything they can lay their hands on.
For the next month, it'll be World Cup memorabilia.
Next month, who knows? But one day... Tawo's big eyes takes on a faraway look as he imagines a future when maybe he'll be the one in the nice car.
A future when no one in this sprawling, chaotic city needs to hassle anyone for change.
Tawo says: "If there is one thing this World Cup can do for people like me, it may be to give us a future. Many people I know in Soweto who never had jobs before have worked on building the stadiums, or the roads, or the new Gautrain transport line. So maybe when the football is over, the work that has been done will make people come back and that will let more of us work properly, in offices or in factories, not in the middle of the freeway."
As my taxi edges through a nose-to-tail late morning jam, armies of navvies are out tidying up grass verges, filling in potholes, generally making their city as spruce as possibly for when the big moment arrives. Every one of them is black.
So is cabbie Joe Mabe, a dapper little man in his 50s who never stops smiling.
He's seen a huge difference in the way of life for people like him over the past 20 years.
But, like Tawo, his vision of what he wants South Africa to be is still way beyond the hazy horizon.
He says: "In 1995, the Rugby World Cup came here and it was a historic time.
"It had always been a white man's game, but they staged matches in Soweto, so for the first time ever the Boors had to come into a black township for enjoyment.
"They loved it! They said: 'Why have we never been here before?' And that changed so much for us all.
"But you see the gangs working at the side of the roads, they are black men, never white. You see the boys selling souvenirs at the lights - black boys, not white. There is a long way to go.
"So maybe this is the next stage. When the rugby world came here, it brought all colours together like never before. Perhaps the soccer will be the start of another era, when businesses and tourism flourish and everyone becomes better off.
"And I say everyone, because right now, the rich are becoming richer and poor poorer. There is no middle class in South Africa. That is what we have to aim for." Joe added: "We are so excited about the football, as we are an excitable people.
"But it's what happens after people like you go home that matters, as what you see is what you will tell your friends about us.
"I pick foreigners up from the airport who think South Africa is all bushes and lions. They see skyscrapers and they go: 'What? A building?'
Then throw in the colours of the other 31 nations who've flown in to join the knees-up and it's a fabulous kaleidoscope.
They're dancing on every spare inch of ground, blowing their vuvuzelas, grinning from ear to ear. If their heroes win this afternoon, the celebrations might last beyond the final itself. And watching over it all is the man who did more than anyone to make it all possible. Nelson Mandela. Immortalised in a Hollywood-monster-sized bronze statue on the square that bears his name.
It was his fight for freedom that wrestled South Africa from the grip of apartheid.
It was his faith that brought the Rugby World Cup here after years of global isolation and inspired the home team to victory.
It's his very presence in the Soccer City Stadium this afternoon that will bring the house down more than anything else bar a last-minute winner. Win or lose, though, you can be sure of this.
All those kids will be back at the traffic lights tomorrow morning, giving motorists their best pleading gaze, all those navvies will be back out doing the jobs the whites don't fancy.
Football can't change their lot - not in 90 minutes.
But in a year? Five? Ten? Who knows, Tawo might even own his own flag factory. It's got to be a dream worth fighting for.
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