In Summary
  • Countries that stage major games proudly showcase culture to all in ways that positively touches humanity.
  • Guests shake off our lethargy. But most important of all, they bring out the best in us.

There is a universal desire to impress guests. The moment you hear that visitors are coming is the instant you fly off the sofa and start wiping the dust on the radio that you have been ignoring all along.

Guests shake off our lethargy. But most important of all, they bring out the best in us. Because they are coming we put our best foot forward.

Big football tournaments are all about guests. When well organised, things get positively disrupted. We are not going to have guests next January because we have failed our exams. Chan is going to either Morocco, Equatorial Guinea or, in the worst case scenario for us, next door in Ethiopia. That would really be rubbing it in; Rwanda last time, Ethiopia this time? Lord, please.

The history of sport is also the history of the enormous lengths to which nations have gone to impress their visitors. Some have literary moved heaven and earth to shine in the eyes of their guests.

Even when their efforts don’t produce the desired outcome – and indeed sometimes they do go wrong – the attempt is of such a scale that the world talks about it long afterwards. In which case, it is worth it.


Consider this: to stage the 1950 Fifa World Cup, Brazil built the world’s largest stadium – the Maracana in Rio de Janeiro. It’s capacity? 200,000 people.(Please note the year – 1950!) Things didn’t quite work out the way Brazil desired and 199,858 people witnessed the hosts’ Waterloo against Uruguay – a 1-2 loss in the final game. But the Maracana remains an icon of sports architecture to this day.

For its Olympic Games of 1976, the City of Montreal decided to build the world’s first outdoor retractable roof stadium. It didn’t pull it off and in the end it was forced to make the roof permanent. However, the effort was impressive.

But the hardware displayed in breathtaking infrastructure such as stadiums, railways and highways, is only half the story. The other half - the software - is the artistic ingenuity in putting together out-of-this-world opening and closing ceremonies. A great desire of nations hosting major sports events is to showcase this aspect of the genius of their people.

Many of them know they won’t win the big cup or top the medal standings. But they are desperate to tell their stories in spectacular ceremonies that are choreographed by their best producers and directors. These are the stories of the nation’s history and cultural life across generations, centuries and even millennia.

Some countries do this so well that what you remember most is this particular aspect of the tournament or Games and not the competition itself.

To the bureaucrats in our Ministry of Sports who wear mediocrity as a badge of honour, in Chan we only lost a football tournament. But difficult as it is for them to understand, a big football tournament means a lot more than football. The game is the main course, but there are many side dishes that come with it. Good business. Lasting friendships. National pride. Optimism.

To those of us who have witnessed many opening and closing ceremonies in our lives, the loss of the guests we might have welcomed in January is profound. We miss them. We also must agree that denying a chance to our most creative artists to show the best of themselves for our country is a crime that calls for the strongest condemnation. It is a crime against the people.

When I listen to statements coming from the Ministry of Sports, I’m constantly reminded of words once spoken in a raging fit of fury by the charismatic late Mozambican President, Samora Machel in a rally: “That ministry is full of useless people!” I can’t remember which of his ministries he was talking about but I know that as soon as he was done fuming, reports from Maputo said his heavy axe came down hard on them.

Let us reflect on what we have lost and comfort ourselves with the achievements of other peoples who are fortunate to get their act together.

The spirit of sport’s big heartedness drives us to admire them. Did you watch the opening concert of South Africa 2010? Did you see Lira belting out Miriam Makeba’s Pata Pata to Hugh Masekela’s heart-melting trumpet? And did you absorb the splendour of the entire production?


The Fifa World Cup of that year gave those artists the chance to showcase their talents. It gave South Africans a massive party. But it also gave them a great psychological boost. In the face of the all the adversities they face every day, such a performance left them feeling like winners. When you met them, they showed it.

I have felt emotionally close to many opening ceremonies even when staged by people in far off lands. One of my most memorable was 2004 when Portugal staged that year’s European Nation’s tournament. There was a segment in the ceremonies depicting a ship sailing though a sea that dissolved into the flags of all the participating countries.

The ship was re-enacting Portugal’s centuries-old history of maritime navigation that echoed the nation’s promotional slogan: “the thrill of discovery.” I felt connected with that scene because of Fort Jesus in Mombasa and Vasco da Gama’s Pillar in Malindi.

If the mandarins at the Ministry of Sports want an example of what Kenyans can do given a chance to shine, I will tell them the story of Washington Omondi, George Senoga-Zake, Graham Hyslop, Thomas Kalume and Peter Kibukosya. In mid-1963, these gentlemen were given seven months to produce a song that depicted the soon-to-be-independent nation’s sincerest hopes and wishes.

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