Let’s go for ‘local chickens’
In my childhood days, in the 1980s one of my close buddies was Kelvin Moyo. His dad, the late Henry, was appointed Flames coach replacing Briton Ted Powell and Kelvin bragged about the swimming pool at their new yard in Namiwawa.
I also remember that when one of his uncles came from his home village in Kasungu, he asked whether there were fish in “that river” (referring to the swimming pool) and we all burst into laughter.
A couple of months later, I realised the ‘river’ had run dry and upon inquiring, Kelvin claimed that there was a fault with the pump, but I learnt later that it had to do with the bills because it was only the expatriate who enjoyed the luxury of his water bills being paid by government. Eventually, Kelvin’s father decided they could do without it and we later on turned it into a two-aside football pitch.
I am also told that at the Mount Pleasant mansion where my ‘sibweni’ Kinnah Phiri had moved in after replacing Stephen Constantine, there was also a swimming pool, but it was later turned into an area for drying mphale.
However, although the local coaches did not enjoy such previleges, they delivered. In fact, it was Moyo who led the Flames to their first-ever Africa Cup of Nations (Afcon) qualification in 1984 and also qualifying for All Africa Games in 1987 before the pair of the late Reuben Malola and Mathias Mwenda took over at the actual showpiece where the Flames defied the odds to finish a respectable third position and clinch a bronze medal after beating giants such as Cameroon and Egypt.
Ironically, it was also another local, Kinnah, who guided the Flames to their second appearance at Afcon in 2010. Over the years, we have had a good number of expatriates earning hefty packages with nothing to show off in terms of results, some of them with suspicious backgrounds of having coached social teams while others were so hopeless that they could have struggled to make a grade at MphepoZinayi FC.
Now, I hear FAM is considering to hire another expatriate. Maybe I am missing something, but my take is let’s go for local chickens, the ‘road runner’ known for its flavour, other than the tasteless hybrid. They will rob us of our millions, eat our tasty chambo, bask in the sun along the shores of our fresh-water lake and then head back home, living us to lick our wounds after yet another failed campaign. Glory be to God. Uloliwe..Uloliwewayidudulahii…Neng’asiza [The train is pushing].
