When Uganda Cranes failed to qualify for Afcon
They say if you want to know the meaning of a second, ask a sprinter who lost a race. But the fans at Namboole I am sure can also tell a thing or two about how a single moment decides the outcome of an event. Ask them about that minute the Zambian goalkeeper’s gloved hands brushed the lime green ball and they will tell you a number of things.
“We have lost”, “We have no hope”, “Again!!” But words are not the only way they will express how they feel. As soon as it happened, the stadium, which before was abuzz with the sound of vuvuzelas, screams, chants, drums and the reverberation of all this against the walls went quiet.
Sudden quiet, like some unseen hand had flipped an unseen switch. Some made their way to the exit as if to say, “There’s nothing else to see here, not even the jubilant Chipolopolos doing back flips”. Others sat down lacking the will to even shuffle down the steps to the exits. And yet others held their heads in their hands, the very same one which had been raised in first excitement then supplication, earlier.
Rehema Nabukeera, who identifies herself as a long time Cranes fan just sat on the steps and wept, not cried but shed copious tears. Distraught, she talks of how proud she would have been had the Cranes qualified this time. “I am so disappointed! The boys played well,” according to her, Uganda as a country is just not lucky in matters football.
Looking at the aftermath of the game, bottles strewn everywhere and dejected fans milling or sitting around, it is hard to imagine this was the same place masses of humanity in red, yellow, and black stood and cheered in one accord. While it cannot be described as euphoria, there was definitely something in the air. Beyond the crazy get-ups, the result of fans’ zeal to represent the Cranes’ colours, the body art and buzzing of the vuvuzelas, one could feel a palpable excitement and stoic support for the national team.
Whatever the odds were…
And for those who understood, the odds of the Cranes having a two-goal advantage over the African champions, who had beaten them just weeks before, were pretty low from the beginning. But try telling that to the general happiness crowd, you know the ones who basically came to cheer and you will be met with blank stares or worse, some expletives. To them, this was the Cranes’ day and a win was eminent.
Believed to the last minute
So the game may have started with fans split down the middle, but that was taken care of by the goal in the first half. Do not ask me who scored it but I know for sure that while the Cranes before then had a window, it was now open and with great tact, a little squeezing and a lot of bad luck on Zambia’s side, the Cranes would actually give us a win.
That they did not, is history now. History many a real fan had already made peace with after the match ended 1-0 and right before the penalties. “I can’t watch this. This is done,” said a fan right behind me, declaring Uganda’s bid to qualify for the Africa Cup of Nations was already a lost cause. His ilk had made calculations of the several outcomes and remained seated, gripping the edge of their seats.
Or threw arms up in frustration every time the Cranes goalkeeper goal keeper dived in one direction as Zambians’ shots entered through the other. General happiness was another story and though anxiety gripped many, it couldn’t come close to what some true blue football fans seemed to be going through. “This is Kisirani,” said one when Zambia scored yet another penalty to again equalise in the post match spot kicks.
When all was said and done, there was a section of Ugandans who went home winners. Those who turned up with various wares around the stadium and the ingenious ones who managed to bring in food and drinks in the stadium. The first lot right outside would descend on fans with everything from the jersey to paper caps with the flag and Cranes emblazoned. The vuvuzela sellers were everywhere you turned, thrusting their colourful wares in any face that glanced in their direction. They were followed by body painters that slap a wet paint brush on your face faster than you could say “allergy”.
They are the ones that went all out to plan how they would make a profit on that day. Make bracelets and earrings with the national colours. Paint ordinary items like palm fronds and straw hats in red, black and yellow then selling them to excited fans. They brought the food that fuelled the cheering and the drinks that oiled the throats that sang ‘we go we go’ till they were hoarse.
And while the rest of stadium streamed out into the road to Kireka as quiet as that number of people can ever be, these crafty fellows who were either selling off the last of their merchandise or counting their profits were the only ones who vouched for Uganda and did not lose all the way. Just like the excitement spread when hopes ran so high halfway through the game, the disappointment spread too, to the fans and tag along (like yours truly) alike.
