FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 22, 2013

Challenge Cup was once the talk of town and ruled the VoK radio airwaves

Kenya number one Mohamoud Abbas makes a spectacular save in front of goal for Harambee Stars at a jam-packed City Stadium during a match in the 1979 Senior Challenge Cup that was hosted by Kenya. PHOTO | FILE

Kenya number one Mohamoud Abbas makes a spectacular save in front of goal for Harambee Stars at a jam-packed City Stadium during a match in the 1979 Senior Challenge Cup that was hosted by Kenya. PHOTO | FILE  NATION MEDIA GROUP

In Summary

  • The Challenge Cup and what is today's KBC Swahili Service radio introduced us to East Africa's greatest players
  • Harambee Stars will get only about 10 per cent of the passion that the crowds of the 1970s reserved for their national team
By Roy Gachuhi
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My lasting memories of the Cecafa Challenge Cup, which starts next Wednesday, are of the early 1970s. It was then simply called the East African Challenge Cup and came to us via Voice of Kenya radio. It brought together Kenya, Uganda, Tanzania and Zanzibar. The Central Africa bit that looped in Zambia, Malawi, Ethiopia and Sudan came later.

The Challenge Cup introduced us to enthralling radio football commentary. Salim Mohammed, Mohammed Juma Njuguna and Leonard Mambo Mbotela – and Stephen Kikumu and Salim Juma before them – taught me early lessons on what a sponsor should never do even if he is the one doling out the cash and making it happen.

Milo, the beverage maker, was an early sponsor of the tournament. That was a good thing. But you swore never, ever to drink Milo because of how the commercials were slotted in the running commentaries.

Just when there was "Kizazaa kwa lango la Kenya" (mayhem in the Kenya goalmouth) and the commentator was breathlessly speaking in tongues (aiiya! yaya! yaya! Oooo...!hoohaiya..shoo!...Goa..aihaya!), the ujumbe (commercial from the sponsors) would burst in: "Milo! Papa-Pa! Milo! Papa-Pa! Milo!" And then they would go on and on for a life-time about the goodness of Milo.

Meanwhile, your heart is racing and your head hot with blood as you are wondering what has become of the goalmouth melee. Imagine the commentator informing you that while the commercial was going on, Kenya conceded a goal.

It was unbearable. This was pure torture. It was practically a case of human rights abuse. If it was happening today somebody would go to court and seek a declaration that his constitutional rights had been violated by Milo. I am certain there are many radio sets that didn't survive this intrusive behaviour; certainly I do remember one newspaper reader saying that those commercials were going to drive him into "drilling a hole in my radio with my fist."

I cannot confirm he carried out the threat. But Milo certainly tidied up their act and it was possible to appreciate their largesse in the end – even drink a hot cup.

The Challenge Cup and what is today's KBC Swahili Service radio introduced us to East Africa's greatest players. There are players I never got to see but my commentator friends tell me they were magic. Uganda Cranes had stalwarts such as Stanley Mubiru Tank, Dennis Obua, Jimmy Kirunda, Philip Omondi and goalkeeper Masajagge, reputedly East Africa's best.

When English FA Cup champions West Bromwich Albion toured East Africa in 1968, I am given to understand they expressed great interest in him, only that chances of playing in the English League in those days were virtually nil. (That tour is a story for another day).

Tanzania had the Manara brothers, Sunday and Kitwana and others like Gibson Sembuli. When I think of Kenya, I remember William Chege Ouma whom I only saw in his fading years, coincidentally now when I am reading The Dying of the Light by Brian Glanville. His was of the generation of Jonathan Niva, Daniel Anyanzwa, John Nyawanga, James Siang'a and others who exited just as I was entering the Sports Desk.

If you were to listen to KBC's radio commentaries of that time, you can be forgiven for thinking you are listening to the exploits of the gods. In point of fact, they were gods.

But no memories of the Challenge Cup haunt me more than my interviews with coaches. I learnt about the players as much from the coaches as from the players themselves. I am staggered by the sheer number of those I knew and who are now gone. Of all them, one made a lasting impression on my 20-year-old mind and I will use this week's column to remember him.

He was Uganda's Peter Okee, by his performance in 1978, easily one of the greatest East African coaches. I met him in 1979 during that year's Challenge Cup in Nairobi. Uganda was then a devastated country, dictator Idi Amin having been run out of the country by a combination of the Tanzania People's Defence Force and Ugandan exiles.

Before the tournament, I asked Okee as much about football as I did about the war. He told me: "Yes, the war affected us. It affected our preparations for this tournament. With a war such as that one, a sports team cannot prepare as it would in peacetime; the anxiety, fear and sometimes hopelessness are there. This is a fact. But I am not using it to offer excuses in advance. We are ready for this tournament and we have come to win..."

The scene was Mayfair Hotel in Nairobi where some of the teams of that year's tournament had camped.

I had interviewed several coaches and found Okee the most fascinating character. Brian Tiller of Zambia was the most talkative and free-wheeling with information, boasting that his striker, Godfrey Chitalu, could fit neatly in the English First Division (today's Premier League).

Tanzania's Joel Bendera was a reflective man whose faith in his team was overshadowed by a deep respect for his opponents. Almost every answer was appended with the statement: "But we'll see. We'll see; it depends on many things."

Kenya's Gregory Palakov was a dour man who raised his voice many times, rarely smiled and seemed inclined to discuss more negative than positive things about a team. When Kenya was eventually defeated by Malawi in the final after almost nailing it, he waved his arms in the air aggressively and told me in a relentless harangue:

"There was too much falling back and the marking was very poor. When we were leading 2-1 and with only three minutes to go, the boys displayed a lack of willingness to push the Malawians back. They allowed corners. But the worst thing was falling back and not taking the game to the Malawians.

REFEREE AGAINST US

"We lost this match when Charles Ochieng was injured. But generally the team played very badly. And the referee was also against us. Central African referees are always against East Africans. This is what happened."

Palakov's deputy, James Siang'a, was shy, saying the barest minimum possible. He almost always referred me to his boss Palakov.

Okee was different. He was a paradox. Sometimes he was cocky and boastful. At other times he seemed so insecure. Sometimes he was candid, as when discussing the problems encountered by a team in a country engulfed in a long and difficult liberation war. At other times he was secretive, as when asked what strategy he would adopt to fulfil his promise of winning the cup.

Then he would always say: "Arh! That's my top secret!" Okee never discussed his squad – until the tournament was over. And suddenly he became very open about it, sometimes offering excuses, sometimes conceding weaknesses. But there was one thing about him at all times – accessibility. I was always welcome, whatever the hour or the circumstances. At one time, I wanted to check a fact with him and it was around 10.30 pm. I rang. He was sleeping. He answered. He talked, and made no qualms about the rather ungodly hour for a man who had a game next day.

And so we talked. We established confidence in one another. As the tournament progressed, Okee gave me unfettered access to his players. We became friends. But still, I felt I couldn't unravel him.

The previous year, he had steered the Cranes to an epic final in the Africa Nations Cup against Ghana in Accra. The Black Stars needed every trick up their sleeves – both on and off the pitch – to edge Okee's boys 2-1.

I asked him about it. He was exuberant when discussing the Cranes' merits and kept away from discussing the underhand tactics the hosts used and which his star winger, Abbey Nasur told me about years later. Nasur insisted they lost the game after a long and draining bus ride from Kumasi to Accra, a sleepless night in a hotel teeming with mosquitoes and no air conditioning in a sweltering Accra.

Okee was effusive about the superlative teamwork of his charges but he seemed lost when I asked him if he thought they could repeat that performance. Maybe he had a premonition; the Cranes have never returned to Nations Cup stage since.

When I pressed him harder, he diverted the conversation to the uncertain situation back home. "We are a happy people," he told me. "We like to have our fun. We enjoy playing. But we must wait and see how it turns out to be. We hope for the best, we are optimistic, whatever the situation be, I think we'll still manage to play...somehow..."

When the tournament was over, we parted and never met again. The next I heard when I asked for him was that he had died. I have followed the preparations going on for this year's Challenge Cup. Like everything else, they show that Kenya is not 50 years young, but 50 years very old. People are racing at the last minute to ready dilapidated stadiums, which are not worth the name.

PASSION OF THE CROWDS

Harambee Stars will get only about 10 per cent of the passion that the crowds of the 1970s reserved for their national team; the passion ratios will be apportioned thus: 50 per cent for the English Premier League, 40 per cent for beer and allied alcoholic drinks and 10 per cent for Harambee Stars. And I am not blaming them! Kenya football has long run itself into a hole and don't blame the fans.

Some things, like wine, the Africa Nations Cup and the English Premier League, get better with age. Others, like the Challenge Cup and the Nairobi Show, show the strains of their age and fans turn away, seeking pleasures elsewhere.

I miss the old Challenge Cup, its promise of full stadiums, throbbing Isikuti, and the players and coaches who made it happen. What a pity that I should be even thinking about how it was rather than how it will be.

But I will never turn my back on Kenya football. It is played by good people who deserve much better than they have so far got, and who must be supported by every patriotic citizen. For better or otherwise, let the Challenge Cup begin.