Farewell Africa

Thus ends another Commonwealth Chess Championships, and my sojourn into Africa.  It’s been nothing like I expected, which for a seasoned chess tourist is quite unusual.  It’s been crazier, more dangerous and far more dramatic than I could have possibly predicted.  But, in fact, it’s been incredible.

Tomorrow morning I fly off to Peru, but tonight I had the chance to say thanks to some of the many locals who’ve made my trip the adventure it’s turned out to be.  I cooked a farewell dinner for GJ, uberblogger Steve and his hilariously sweet girlfriend Erica, ex-chessite and intellectual behemoth Clare, and former number one SA chess female Cecile, who depressingly chose horse riding over chess seven years ago but has reinvented herself as a chess groupie.

It was a fitting way to end the trip.  The number one positive about this country has been the hospitality of the locals, not only in the chess community, but throughout.  Whether it be teenagers sharing their umbrella when we’re caught out in the hail on top of Tabletop Mountain, a herd (is that the collective?) of inebriated grandmothers in Kruger Park, our incredibly camp waiter at breakfast each morning, or Avril lookalikes offering their homes, cars and kitchens, it’s been a great advertisement for a country whose reputation usually consists of little more than violent crime.

This has also been one of the few tournaments where the tournament trifecta, at least on paper, seems to have been achieved.  I played appallingly, but that was just fine, as I was here as a chess tourist first and grandmaster second.  And that was reflected in the quality of the games and the ratings of my two conquerors.  However, at the end of the day, a bit of luck and a very favourable draw saw me score nine very undeserved points – and an amazingly unjustified tie-break even gave me the bronze medal.

I feel guilty, but only a little.  I’ve always maintained that these large chess opens are a lottery where the winner is usually deserving, and the others ride the sinusoidal wave of win-loss-win-loss, hoping to finish on a high by the end of the final round.  I’ve often been on the down-turn.  Finally, it was my time.

One guy who really did miss the wave was South African talent Nick van der Nat.  After defeating me in the first half of the tournament, he went on to lead alone with 8/9 to totally surprise the pundits and pick up a well-deserved International Master title.  Unfortunately for Nick, two final-round losses sent him far further down the rankings than he deserved – but that’s how it works in these things.  He took it on the chin, though, and in fact his only regret, he confessed to me, was “not getting to play Nigel Short!”

Having said that, Nigel and Gawain certainly did deserve their time at the top.  They both played well above the rest of the pack, with some good quality games and a fair amount of class.  Nigel was desperately unlucky to lose on tie-break thanks to an irrelevant endgame I won on board four, but took it like a true gentleman, joining us for an immensely entertaining after-party.  The festivities raged well into the morning, passing the opening bell for breakfast and giving us a final opportunity to say farewell and even “see you soon” to our new friends.

Overall, GJ deserves a big wrap.  The open was one of the best-run I’ve ever been a part of, especially for a non-chess-centric country.  I’ve spent most of this evening trying to convince him to organise one again, as it’s been such a successful and important milestone, not just for the Commonwealth, but African chess, too.  Most organisers face a thankless task of immense workloads for no rewards and usually unbridled criticism, and never come back.  Hopefully this time it’s different – they breed them tough down here.

Unfortunately I have an early morning flight to Lima to prepare for, and dishes to clean, so I’ll have to cut this short.  Farewell Johannesburg, a mysterious city of unsafe streets, dangerous carparks, barbed and electric fences, wild animals, criminals, drug lords, and incredibly friendly people.  I’ll miss you (with some trepidation, naturally).