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ON  Tuesday, a nice guy who loved football, and like all good fellows supported Manchester United, died — shot in cold blood in the latest terror attack to hit Nairobi. James Oduor, commonly known as “Odu Cobra,” was a fine Kenyan blogger who founded Wadau TV and had a passion for grassroots football.

He was even tweeting, as the terrorists staged their brazen deadly attack, asking what was going on around him, until a bullet silenced him forever.

Somehow, his tragic death had to come on the eve of his birthday, his heavily bearded face, always accompanied by a charming smile, a reminder of a beautiful flame extinguished so soon.

His untimely death plunged our interactive social media group, which has scores of senior African football writers, commentators and officials into mourning this week.

Life can be so brutal.

It’s hard to imagine, after this tragedy, that this was the same week when the beauty of those images from that full house at Barbourfields last Saturday was making such a huge impression around the continent.

That unforgettable day when Orlando Pirates made that overdue pilgrimage to a hidden Mecca, a beautiful settlement where their name — a disturbing celebration of those who rob on the world’s high seas — carries its weight in gold.

A spiritual and physical journey to an offshore bastion of loyalty to their cause on the other side of the Limpopo River.

A home far away from home — where devotion to their football institution runs deep, very, very deep.

This city where the football gods created probably the closest thing, to some form of Siamese twins, for these Buccaneers.

A fascinating adventure of discovery where, after 82 years, they finally came face-to-face with this twin brother who looked so much like them, talked so much like them, laughed so much like them, dressed so much like them.

And even sang so much like them.

One who lives in this beautiful place, with its wide streets, and a laid-back atmosphere fit for kings.

This irresistible place which has been their home sweet home, since its establishment by King Lobengula in 1870 as his capital, whose name was a journey back into a time when KwaZulu was ruled by King Shaka, where Bulawayo meant a place for            slaughter.

A language so familiar, complete with its romantic ring to every word spoken, and every phrase that rolls from the tongue, as if they never left home.

As if they were still in Orlando East, part of what is today known as Soweto, that sprawling home of more than 1.2 million residents, 99 percent of them blacks, the majority of them Zulus.

THE COLOURS OF KING PETER AND MAVERICK BRUCE
Head dresses, like those which used to be worn by Zulu Warriors, just before they left on a mission to break the resistance of a stubborn tribe, a common feature among the men of this city.

Then, there were those black-and-white flags at about every home, and those black-and-white colours in the stands at Barbourfields.

The iconic colours which Peter Ndlovu used to announce his grand arrival on the big stage.

And everyone inside the stadium, except a pocket of rebellious group at the Mpilo end, appeared to be wearing them.

An ally here, a partner there, a friend here, a companion there, a comrade here, a loyalist there, a pal here, a fan there — thousands of them, united in their cause.

Then, there were those songs, about a mythical stubborn bird, Ezimnyama Ngekani, which were a reminder of those sung by their fans back home — a demonstration of both defiance and virility, a warning to anyone, anything, that stood in their way.

Never has any ground, away from Soweto, felt so much like home for these Pirates and, boy oh boy, how they loved it.

And, the gods certainly must have been crazy because how did they end up ensuring Soweto — now the home of these Pirates — was established in the same year, 1963, when Highlanders’ biggest rivals Dynamos were also formed?

There are some who have chosen to criticise the Bosso fans for daring to throw their weight behind Orlando Pirates, rather than FC Platinum, arguing that what happened at Barbourfields was a betrayal of a national cause.

They say they can’t understand why and how a Zimbabwean team, flying the national flag, could get such a raw deal from the local fans?

A team whose success story in this Champions League could open a window of opportunity for Bosso, to play in the tournament, in the event we get two slots and Highlanders finished second in the race.

They say they will never understand why and how a team that chose to bring Champions League football to their doorstep could be given such a hostile reception in a city some of its players call home.

A DEBATE THAT HAS RAGED ALL WEEK
Good questions have been asked but they all appear devoid of the power of history, the value of patronage and the beauty of freedom of association.

Because, to condemn those Bosso fans for exercising their right of affiliation will be an insult to their true feelings, especially when it comes to a Pirates team they have always considered a Soweto extension of their beloved football club.

Ever wondered they named the stand, where the Bosso die-hards sit at Barbourfields, Soweto?

A frivolous attempt to try and transform them from who they truly are, and significantly have always been, long before FC Platinum came along.

A fruitless battle to try and make them disown who they are and whom they have always been long before this Champions League game came onto their doorstep by default and never by design.

A futile attempt to try and make them fake their passion, which is impossible, and — for just 90 minutes — dump their loyalty to a club they have always believed in for more than half-a-century.

And, after the game was over, expect them to return to their true identities as believers in these Pirates.

An impossible campaign to make them try and masquerade as the closest thing to football impostors.

How can it be possible that a loyalty built over so many years can be dissolved for just for one-and-half hours and, after the game, expect them to return to what they truly believe in?

So, as much as some of you might not agree with me, l believe the Bosso fans were within their rights to support Orlando Pirates last Saturday.

It wasn’t an act of disowning their motherland, their identity as Zimbabweans and everything that FC Platinum represented that afternoon.

It was just a true expression of what they feel about these Pirates, and this would certainly have been different if the opposition that day were Esperance.

Or even Horoya or Al Ahly because the Bosso fans have no connection whatsoever to those teams.

If this was Kaizer Chiefs, Bidvest Wits or SuperSport United, it’s very likely the Bosso fans would have supported FC Platinum, the problem was that it was Pirates.

And this is what combined to produce a perfect storm which triggered this outpouring of love for these Sea Robbers.

Last month, in Buenos Aires, the Argentine capital, there wild celebrations when city rivals River Plate were knocked out of the FIFA Club World Cup semi-finals by Kashima Antlers of Japan.

Nobody criticised those celebrating Boca Juniors fans by arguing River were representing their city, their country and their continent because, in football, that is a myth.

For those Boca fans, River’s elimination meant peace in the bars of Buenos Aires and, on the streets of the city or on the trains, their rivals would not mock them for being in the company of world champions

That’s the way football is.

Manchester United fans will never celebrate a Liverpool European Cup success story, even when both teams are from England.

When City were the erecting that mischievous billboard, “Welcome to Manchester,” after signing Carlos Tevez from United, wasn’t it a bold message that in this game everyone stands alone?

Any other argument will be a journey into fantasyland, of course pregnant with emotions, but divorced from reality like expecting to extract milk from a football.

I’m not saying what we saw at Barbourfields was right but l am just saying there was an inevitability to it all and there is a reason, rooted in a powerful combination of romance and history, which led to all that outpouring of love for those Pirates.

And, in my little book, it was all about football and not politics.

We seem to spend too much time worrying about the negatives, instead of the positives that thousands of Bulawayo fans poured into Barbourfields last Saturday.

Life is too short for all this bitterness.

My friend, our friend “the Odu Cobra,” didn’t find any shame in displaying his love for Manchester United, and that it is an English and not Kenyan club, didn’t matter to him.

Today, he is with the angels in heaven and probably wondering why we keep spending so much time on things that don’t matter because, for him, what mattered on Saturday was seeing the beauty of that full house at Barbourfields

Too bad, too bad, he didn’t know he would be gone — in such cold-bloodied fashion — just three days later.

Dear Robson
I was surprised this morning to find “Sharuko On Saturday” in The Saturday Herald. I had given up the search for months.

I just could not believe that you had stopped writing the column. I am one of the millions of readers of The Saturday Herald who were attached to the paper by “Sharuko On Saturday.”

The absence of your column was devastating, I missed so much of your lessons about life explained mainly through sports events, personalities and recollections on incidents and encounters you faced.

Robson, do you remember the few soccer lessons you gave me as Permanent Secretary for Education, Sports and Culture on your way to Burkina Faso for ’98 CAF Championships and me on theatre programme?

That was the first time I spoke to you and I found your worlds as diligently chosen in your speech as in your writing. You are so wise and much younger than me, but what an opportunity it was.

You and The Herald may have not realised that your column adds a lot of value to the newspaper and that its absence reduces the significance of The Saturday Herald.

You see, on Saturday I can read “Sharuko on Saturday” so many times just to enjoy your style of presentation of fairly tough issues in a manner all readers will not mind your critical outlook because of the lessons on life contained in the writing.

Even today’s column contains so many lessons in life which you have been able to share in two decades. Please continue writing.

You are not writing for yourself, but for us.

Greetings to Kalusha!

Best regards
Stephen Chifunyise

Stephen Chifunyise is an arts, culture and education consultant recognised by the United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organisation as one of its pool of experts in cultural policies. He is a former Secretary of the then Ministry of Education, Sports and Culture. He sent this letter after this column reappeared in this newspaper, for the first time in four months, last week.

To God Be The Glory!

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

Khamaldinhoooooooooooooooooooo!

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