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SHARUKO ON SATURDAY 

ONE of the most remarkable events in the history of mankind occurred on Europe’s Western Front during World War One when on December 25 in 1914, German and the British soldiers downed their machine guns and played a football match to mark the Christmas Truce. Men who had, for years, turned the front into the bloodiest killing fields the world had ever known, temporarily froze their savage instincts, for once appreciating the value of life in that orgy of death, and chose a football match to toast the day they didn’t turn guns on each other.

As the two teams battled on the rugged makeshift football pitch, in the No Man’s Land that separated the trenches of the two armies, some German soldiers, supporting their colleagues playing the game, provided their English rivals with beers, and exchanged cigarettes in the beauty of that temporary break in hostilities.

For a fleeting moment in the darkness of war, football — the sport Pele would later call the most beautiful game in the world — provided an escape route from the voracious monster of war that had devoured millions of men on both sides of a fiery conflict whose intensity and destruction had not been seen in the world before.

The result of the match, of course, was irrelevant in that island of humanity, amid an ocean of brutality, and when the day passed, the hostilities resumed and the Great War would rage on for another four years, leaving a trail of destruction as the deadliest conflict in world history, by then, claimed the lives of nine million soldiers and seven million civilians.

But, when the world reflects on the madness that triggered that Great War, the stupidity of the politicians who fuelled it and the foolishness of the army generals who encouraged it, it also remembers that beautiful moment when arms were downed on Christmas Day and the rival soldiers played football.

For all its beauty, though, football also has a very, very dark side.

And none darker than the events of 1969, when El Salvador and Honduras went to war, known as the Football War, in the wake of the acrimony that stalked their ill-fated qualifiers for the 1970 FIFA World Cup.

The first game in the Honduran capital, Tegucigalpa, on June 8, 1969, was won by the hosts 1-0 although it was marred by violent disturbances as fans from the two nations engaged in fierce long battles.

Then, on June 15, 1969, El Salvador ran out comprehensive 3-0 winners in San Salvador but, with a large Honduran immigrant population resident in that city, the defeat of the visiting teams, coupled with the riots that had marred the first game, serious violence erupted between the supporters.

FIFA ordered a play-off game, to decide the winner, on neutral soil and on June 26, 1969, in Mexico City, El Salvador beat their rivals 3-2 in extra-time of a gripping context that had both countries on the edge amid an explosion of nationalistic bravado.

Shortly after that match El Salvador cut all diplomatic ties with the Hondurans with a declaration that “the government of Honduras has not taken any effective measures to punish these crimes which constitute genocide, nor has it given assurances of indemnification or reparations for the damages caused to Salvadorans.”

A war broke out between the two countries, 300 000 Salvadorans were displaced and more than 1 200 people were dead by the time the other regional nations intervened to stop the war from escalation but, since then, relations between the two countries have never been cordial more than 40 years later.

WHAT IS IT ABOUT FOOTBALL THAT TURNS PEOPLE INTO MANIACS?

There is something about football that turns even some decent people into maniacs, something that makes them dump their dignity and, in that frenzied mob, they become so deranged they even find pleasure in singing about human waste, can you believe it, loudly singing “team yemad****i, DeMbare, team yemad****i, KepeKepe, team yemad****i, Highlander.”

We have heard this tune, again and again, and tolerated it as if it’s a fitting soundtrack to the rivalry that exists among the Big Three of our domestic Premiership, as acceptable banter at our stadiums even when it is so toxic that it poisons the innocent minds of the young fans who come to watch these games.

Sadly, the more we have accepted this nonsense, because we say it’s acceptable banter, the more it has bred the maniacs who now believe they can go a step further, beyond the acceptable boundaries of rivalry, and become shameless merchants of doom who believe the stadium provides a fitting playground for their vile tribal chants.

Like that deranged Highlanders fan displaying that shocking banner, at Barbourfields on Sunday, telling the world he believes the Shona-speaking people are “DOGS” and “BABOONS.”

And, because we are such a polarised society that finds comfort in re-treatment in denial, rather than confront this maniac and shame him for his shocking views, which have no place in a modern world, we have had a big constituency that has chosen to be highly critical of us for publishing his picture.

They have found ammunition to try and shoot the messenger, rather than deal with the toxicity of the message, and condemning the man who dared bring it to the big stage of the biggest club football match in this country, a thriller that was deservedly won by Bosso with that spectacular late show.

Twitter has been buzzing with some people accusing us of irresponsibility, for publishing that picture so that we confront the cancer we should all collectively deal with, for the sake of a better tomorrow, with some even accusing us of selective usage of the images from Barbourfields by ignoring banners from the good Bosso fans who preached peace and condemned violence.

Stuck in their defensive mode, they have chosen to ignore the gravity of the words which that madman chose to parade, at the biggest football game in the City of Kings, arguing that he should have been ignored when doing so would have given him an impression that what he was saying, what he believes in, is correct.

Admittedly, in a high-profile fixture that has been plagued by violence in the past, it’s important that the images of those who are condemning violence, and preaching peace, should be published because they are doing a very, very good thing and, for the avoidance of doubt, that is why we have published them in today’s newspaper because that was always the plan.

But, still, that doesn’t mean the poisonous views of that individual should also be ignored because by confronting our demons, only then can we find ways of fighting them so that we create a society, not blinded by tribal hatred, for ourselves and, crucially, for our kids who shouldn’t be burdened by the sins of their fathers.

If that hoodlum was a Dynamos fan, telling the world that the Ndebele people are “DOGS” and “BABOONS”, he would have received equal harsh treatment because his views have been misplaced and have no place in our society.

And what is key here is accepting that, when we see such images, we have should find ways of fighting that cancer so that we live in harmony where we accept our identity as Zimbabweans instead of people divided by tribal factions.

NO GUMZ, TWO WRONGS DO NOT MAKE A RIGHT MDALA WAMI

I’m neither Shona nor Ndebele, which probably makes me a fair referee here.

I am a Nguni boy — whose forefathers were part of the great Zulu kingdom under the militaristic King Shaka — a direct descendant of Zwangendaba of the Jele Gumbi clan, a product of the Mfecane rebellion that saw my people leaving KwaZulu Natal and settling in the Chipata area of Zambia, the same way Mzilikazi rebelled against Shaka and ended settling with his people in today’s Matabeleland, I’m closer to the Ndebeles than the Shonas.

For, once in a while, my Nguni people and their Ndebele counterparts were part of the same great Zulu Kingdom.

The only remaining father left, in my extended family, is Cosmas Zulu, the man domestic football calls Tsano, who has served his beloved Highlanders, with distinction, for years and who is one of the influential voices in the Bosso technical set-up, a man who loves his Bosso to the core and who, when he finally retires — even though I don’t see that happening soon given his passion and good health — will be remembered as one this club’s greatest servants.

But I don’t interfere in his work, neither does he interfere in mine, even though as a son I wish him well, all the time, and therefore, all those accusations that I have been getting that I’m against this tribe, I’m a horrible tribalist who promotes the interests of the Shona people, is absolutely hogwash.

What isn’t right, like that sickening message in that banner by that Bosso hoodlum, isn’t right and should simply be condemned and, crucially, this newspaper and its Editors were very clear to, every time, put a disclaimer that the views of that fool didn’t represent the views of most of the Bosso fans.

Bosso chief executive, Ndumiso Gumede, told our sister newspaper, Chronicle, that we allegedly ignore vile songs from the Mpilo End, which houses Dynamos fans, when they sing vile songs attacking Highlanders and yet we are quick to go to town to condemn the message in that offensive banner by that Highlanders hoodlum.

“There is a very strong song that has been sung from the Mpilo End comparing Highlanders to feaces yet there has not been any condemnation,” Gumede said.

“When things are done by other parties they are downplayed. We think as the Fourth Estate (read The Herald), you went overboard with highlighting negativity.”

Admittedly, Gumz, that vile song describing Bosso as human waste is horrible, and it’s something that I have said earlier in this column, and that it’s used, too, by the CAPS United fans to taunt their DeMbare rivals and vice-versa doesn’t make it right and it deserved to be condemned.

But there is a big difference, Gumz, between describing Dynamos as “DOGS” or “BABOONS” and describing an entire ethnic grouping as “DOGS” or “BABOONS.”

Dynamos is just a football club and taunting the Glamour Boys is not the same as taunting an ethnic grouping because some of the finest players, to play for them, are not necessarily Shona people and one of their greatest sons, Moses Chunga, who calls himself the greatest of all-time, traces his roots from Malawi.

The finest Dynamos leader of all-time, Morrison Sifelani, was certainly not Shona and Daniel “Dhidhidhi” Ncube, Makwinji Soma-Phiri, Lovemore “Magents” Ncube and Ronald “Gidiza” Sibanda, who made their mark at the Glamour Boys, are certainly not Shona people.

Highlanders, too, proudly calls itself the team of the nation, “Highlander, ithimu yezwe lonke,” and that is true because it has fans everywhere in this country and its players, including the fellow who scored the winner on Sunday, have come from all the corners of this nation.

Two wrongs, Gumz, don’t make a right.

THE VILE CHANTS THAT HAVE POSIONED THE LIVERPOOL/UNITED DUEL

Liverpool hoodlums sing a song, mocking their Manchester United rivals for that plane crash in the German city of Munich, which wiped away a generation of the United stars in 1958, whose sickening lyrics say “who’s that dying on the runway, who’s that dying in the snow? It’s Matt Busby and his boys making such a f**king noise coz they can’t get their aeroplane to go.”

Twenty-one-year-old Martin Edwards, the youngest player to play for England since World War II, who was so good he was tipped by many to become the finest English player of all-time, escaped from that plane crash with multiple leg fractures, fractured ribs, severely damaged kidneys and, for about a week, surprised even the doctors treating him with his amazing fight for his life as an entire nation, united by both grief and prayer for the survival of their latest superstar, held its breath.

But, just when it appeared as if he was out of danger, he died and plunged the entire nation into mourning.

He made such a huge impact there is Housing Complex in Manchester named after him while hundreds of thousands of people visit his grave every year.

But, his iconic status hasn’t spared him from vile chants and Liverpool fans regularly sing, “Duncan Edwards is manure, rotting in his grave, Man U are manure, rotting in your grave, Man U, Mau U went on a plane, Man U, Man U never came back again.”

They say letters making up MUNICH, where the plane crashed, stand for Man U Never Intended Coming Home.”

And, the response of the United hoodlums is brutal as they also mock Liverpool for their 96 fans who died during the Hillsborough disaster with a sickening song that says “who’s that choking on their vomit, who’s that turning f**king blue, it’s a Scouser and his mate crushed behind the Hillsborough gates and they won’t be singing Munich anymore.”

When the two giants clashed in a Europa Cup showdown this year, Liverpool fans arriving in Manchester were greeted with giant banners which said “THE SUN WERE RIGHT, YOU’RE MURDERERS.”

All this isn’t right and, to their credit, UEFA fined both United and Liverpool for those vile chants.

TO GOD BE THE GLORY!

Come on Warriors!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Khamaldinhooooooooooooooooo!

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