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Whether one herded cattle along Dande, Shinje, Mupinge, Nyaukaka or Mwembezi rivers, somewhere, somehow there, there was a makeshift football pitch.   
There was only one football team that mattered, too.
And predictably, it was Dynamos. The village was far away from the capital city, Salisbury, now Harare, where Dynamos was and is still based, but this was our football club and we followed it with passion, compassion and conviction.
The village was crazy about football.
As young boys, we made balls from rags, from plastic paper, from cattle and goat skins and indeed, on a lucky day, a very soft ball was made from a slaughtered cow’s bladder.
Yes, I mean just that — the cow’s bladder. The experienced village skinners made sure we got the bladder and grandfather made sure we got a bicycle pressure pump. In worse scenarios the mouth was handy, even if it made the cheeks painful. 
The only problem with the bladder was that you could only play it for 30 minutes or so, before it burst after drying up. The bladder ball was also easily swayed off target by the wind, but it made a very good ball for our soccer contests. As young boys we played football, ate football, slept football and dreamt football.
Boys lost their toenails for there were no soccer boots and neither was there conducive turf on the grounds. The ground was normally an open space on the outskirts of the village or just a small opening in between huts and houses.
It was a sign of bravery to bandage your injured toe with a plastic paper derived from sugar packet or a rag and continue playing football. Football, football, football! When tending cattle, a whole herd often strayed into the fields and grazed on the valuable crops for hours on end as we drowned ourselves in football. The gates were made from sticks, stones or brick. In worse scenarios small mounds of soil did the trick. They were changed as and when it was suitable, depending on the scoreline.
The boys would gather at the playground — the most popular stadium — to make a ball from a slaughtered bull’s bladder. Team selection was done by picking up bottle tops. Each time a village boy as sent to the shops, he would certainly make sure he brought bottle tops for the teams.
A blue magic marker was used to colour the inside of the bottle top while other tops were left with their original white inside colour. If there was no magic marker, it was the dead ambers, picked from the fireplace. The boy never ran out of ideas.
Those who picked the blue ones were automatically Dynamos. The other team could be called any name — from Callies United to Rio Tinto and Caps United.
But what was clear was that everyone wished to play for Dynamos. Others would shed tears for just failing to make it into the Dynamos side. The sky. The heavens. The colour of the seas, yonder!
It was not DeMbare then. It was Dynamos. And it was the team. It was football itself.
For those who were selected to play for Dynamos they immediately assumed new identity — the names of their real heroes. Suddenly, Isaac became George Shaya, Takawira became Ernest Kamba, Hastings became Steven Chimedza, Austin became Oliver Kateya and this villager became Dhidhidhi etc. It was real football.
This villager vividly remembers one day when a group of freedom fighters, with guns slung on their backs, joined in the game. Many of them, predictably, chose to play for Dynamos.
It was the height of the war of liberation and they knew the danger of their exercise, but they were willing to join in the fun. It was irresistible. That was the Dynamos magic. After knocking the balls around for a few minutes the freedom fighters left and disappeared into the woods to continue with their battle for our independence.
But even in the heat of the war, they had chosen to make a statement that they also loved football and Dynamos was their team. This villager was a young boy then, but it helped him understand and appreciate this institution called Dynamos.
Maybe that was why those who made the team to play for the village’s Dynamos played with a passion and often won the game. Or maybe it was because Dynamos had to win at all costs that even their makeshift goal posts were smaller than those for the other team. The village women also appeared to like Dynamos and on their way to the gardens, to collect firewood or to the river for a bath or to fetch water they would stop to support the village Dynamos.
Probably if angels on their flight to heaven had passed through the village, they would have stopped to take a gaze at our Dynamos. We knew the real Dynamos was in Harare. But it was Dynamos, Dynamos and Dynamos. Dynamos!
But far away from the capital, deep in the remote villages of Guruve, villagers did not only support Dynamos, but believed in it so much we even formed our own Dynamos.
This villager believes it was the same story in other parts of the country during that period. Dynamos!
In the past two years, Dynamos has played football rekindling memories of the past, when football was real football. What seemed a fluke last year, after a string of poor performances, seemed to have been confirmed this year as the power of Dynamos.
Whether Dynamos win or lose the league on Sunday, it had a trailblazing 2012 season. Highlanders is definitely not a bad team, but you see, in the village they say two hippos find it difficult to occupy one pool and be both in charge.
Is it not in the village again where they say an elephant remains the king of the jungle no matter how emaciated it is. Callisto Pasuwa, Calistus Pasuwa or Kalisto Pasuwa — whichever spelling one prefers — has shown depth of character.
After understudying many coaches in the premier league and in lower divisions, his time came and he took up the job when it mattered most.   
Today, Dynamos has rekindled memories of the past and the echoes of their play, are being felt in the villages and beyond. In such times it is easy to identify with the team. This instalment will not justify its bleeding ink if it does not send condolences to the Dynamos family for the loss of Richard Chiminya, one of the legends of the team.
May his soul rest in eternal peace! May his spirit inspire all football lovers in the country! For the other teams that started playing well when it was already too late, nature can be silly and stupid to give you a comb when you are already bald. Dynamos!