JOHANNESBURG — Helmets and horns — the colorful, crazy core of South Africa's football fever — are going global as the nation gears up for the Confederations Cup and next year's World Cup.

South African streets may be crime-infested and violent, but its stadiums are filled with raucous joy and harmony. The aggression that plagues European football is unknown here as rival fans cheer and dance together and compete against each other for the most colorful costume.

There is a homegrown feel to this outpouring of sporting enthusiasm. The signs and outfits are handmade, often stitched together from recycled materials. The creations are unsophisticated but imaginative and humorous.

None more so than the outlandish transformed miners helmets called makarapa and plastic trumpets called vuvuzela that have come to reflect the face of football on international adverts and local billboards.

Alfred Baloyi made his first makarapa hat in 1979 after he saw a supporter hit on the head by a bottle thrown from the stands. In a country where millions of black men spend their lives working underground in gold mines, miners helmets are almost a household item.

Hailing from a poor rural family, the 57-year-old Baloyi decided to use his artistic talents and decorate his own helmet in honor of his team, the Kaizer Chiefs. The hat was an instant hit and soon he was taking orders and producing four to five hats a day in a backyard shed.

Later, he began cutting and bending the hard plastic, so his designs stood up. He also embellishes his creations with goat horns, bells, bicycle hooters, even firecrackers. He uses plastic tubes and containers to extend his creations, making some of them up to a meter (3 feet) tall.

Baloyi has become something of a local legend and has earned the nickname "The Magistrate" because he "sentences" the helmets to his ideas. His wife has made him a judge's gown that makes him easy to spot in the crowd.

The grandfatherly Baloyi is excited about next year's football extravaganza and sees it as an opportunity to show the world how the game is played in South Africa.

"I am going to see many different stars like Ronaldinho," he said. "They will see my makarapa and my style."

Football has traditionally been the sport most favored by millions of poor black South Africans, who turned patches of dirt into football fields and fashioned goal posts out of tree branches. They play barefoot and use balls often made up of a round wad of plastic shopping bags.

In township lingo, football is known as diski, and it has its own terms for different kicks and styles of dribbling.

Shibobo refers to when a player kicks the ball through an opponent's legs, Tsamaya is for a feint. There are names for kicks from the side and when the ball is bounced off the chest, knees or toes. When a player balances the ball on his back, his body bent at a right angle, he is doing the "Table Mountain," named after Cape Town's famous flat mountain.

These moves have been turned into a new dance that tourism officials hope will become the next Macarena.

"The diski dance shows the unique way soccer is played in South Africa," said Sugen Pillay, global event manager for South African Tourism. "It shows our welcoming spirit and showcases our rhythm as a nation."

The dance is part of an advertising campaign that taps into a vivid mix of South African street and football culture to market the country and the World Cup.

The event, which is expected to see about 400,000 football fans flock to South Africa, is an opportunity to present a different view of the country, which is more known for its wildlife and its political history, Pillay said.

"The atmosphere at a soccer game in South Africa is very different," he said. "You've got vuvuzelas going throughout, people ululating, whistling. This is the different experience people are going to get."

The vuvuzelas and the helmets have even been adopted by South Africa's mainly white rugby supporters — although the noisy trumpets have been banned from rugby matches and many would like its irritating sounds barred from all sporting events.

As football fever mounts in South Africa, so do the opportunities for small businesses and artists like Baloyi.

Baloyi has teamed up with a marketing company and an artists' studio. They are making makarapa's with a machine programmed to follow Baloyi's designs. It can cut about 400 a day and prices range from less than $20 to about $60 depending on the level of detail required.

The hats are then hand-painted by a number of local artists and sign writers at a renovated warehouse in downtown Johannesburg.

The factory was only set up a month ago and the response has been positive. Orders have come in from a number of local companies and negotiations with football officials and sponsors are under way.

Proud of his artistic skill, Baloyi dreamed that his creations would make him famous — and provide him with a decent living.

He hopes that everyone who comes for the World Cup will buy one of his makarapas.

In his mind, he sees stadiums filled with people wearing his hats — not just in South Africa but all over the world.

"That is my wish," Baloyi said. "If all Liverpool supporters can wear my makarapa, I can be happy."