WC lacking the black fans

Remember the Where's Wally books? They consisted of a series of detailed double-page spread illustrations depicting hundreds of people doing a variety of amusing things. Readers were then challenged to find a character named Wally hidden in the crowd.
Covering the World Cup in Brazil as a journalist, I find myself playing a similar game whenever I enter a packed stadium, only this time the question is a bit more serious. Where are all the black folk? I've been to five host cities so far and each time the answer was never easy to come by -- I've even missed goals while looking through the crowd.
Salvador is the most Afrocentric city in Brazil. At the Germany-Portugal game, however, if I didn't know any better I would think I was in Kansas.
In Sao Paulo, Fortaleza, Rio de Janeiro, Recife, the same thing. Where have all the black people gone? This in a country with the biggest population of African descent outside of Africa. Brazil is sold internationally as a rainbow nation, as close to a racial democracy as any country can get. To some degree it's true; for all its sheer size and diversity there are no ethnic or religious conflicts and everyone speaks the same language. Socially, though, it's a different story. So, in a piece of land where 60 per cent of the population is black or mixed, why then, during one of the most important single events in its history, is the absence of those 60 per cent so conspicuous?
The answer is as obvious as it is tragic. Most black people in Brazil are poor. Unlike in South Africa or the United States, there's no black middle class, and perhaps most importantly there isn't a black political class. A World Cup ticket is officially priced between 90 and 1,000 American dollars, but in a country where the minimum wage is a little above 350 dollars a month, a seat at the Maracana is out of many people's reach.
In Fortaleza, for the Germany-Ghana game, there were obviously more black people than usual in the stands -- but apart from the Ghanaians, the only black people anywhere near the stadium were the poor residents from the nearby favela, selling drinks and snacks to white middle-class fans,

who couldn't be bothered with the long queues inside the arena. Or for those who didn't feel like walking the 3km imposed by FIFA from the road blocks to the stadium, there were throngs of poor, black, favela kids ready to take the fans on their bikes.
Brazilians have always had a peculiar attitude towards race. This was the country's football superstar, Neymar, four years ago, when asked if he had ever been a victim of racism. "Never. Neither inside nor outside the field. Because I'm not black, right?"
The players of the national team are clearly mostly black or mixed race (including Neymar): many though, dye their hair blond (including Neymar). Other Brazilian sporting heroes have equally dismissed the issue of race in the past. Ronaldo has also denied his black heritage, and the country's biggest football icon, Pele, is too busy doing commercials to say anything meaningful on the issue.
Brazilian officials said at the time that the law signified an important shift in Brazil's view on offering opportunities to large swathes of the population.
However, for all the things this World Cup has provided, opportunities for its black population isn't one of them. On this particular issue Brazil has scored an own goal.
(Famous football journalist Felipe Araujo wrote this article for the Guardian)