Dear fellow fans,
While confined here, I write to address you. I have come across many words of caution and shame and slander and abuse all across social media, media, whispers and even just casual observers who would be minding their business. If I had time to respond, I would have no time to do anything that can feed me. Since I feel you are all of genuine goodwill, your criticism will be set forth, I would like to answer in what I hope are reasonable terms.
I should start with the reason I am here in purgatory, since the argument of not being a player has been raised, I will start with declaring in a time long ago, I served as a player, coach, team manager for many smaller organisations within rugby, none as grand as the test stage. Nonetheless I am here because rugby calls.
I am here because rugby Uganda has cried, tears are allover us. I am also cognizant of the interrelated aspect of our communities as if the other day, the hippos weren’t threatening to sink the ship. Like many prophets in the bible, who left their small communities to go and serve the grander agenda of the gods, here we sing because the tears affect all of us.
For the second successive game day, the rugby cranes have looked punch drunk and lethargic, bereft of any communication, coordination, correlation or any co option of a similar strategy. We have called and rallied upon the troops, sang for them from the depths of our heart, paid to be with them at time of need.
The union says they have done their best including depriving the poorest of our community of 7,000,000,000 for us to enjoy the chance of watching our heroes closer to home, we get villain performances. Against Morocco we lost against a team who have to assemble on the cold shores of Europe imploring anyone who could have a link to the nation to join a struggle they know little about. They don’t even enjoy the decency of nyigos after game days or the chemistry of being close to each other.
Failure is the same as depression, I am taking my steps in this place where I am neither alive and dead, I go through the motions of the living while having no thoughts like those who left this place. A place of reflection where I am sure I am coming alive to no success but it could get worse and we are relegated to the other dark places of African rugby.
I haven’t had the chance to talk to the coaches or the players who I believe are rioting at my last words of encouragement to them, I implore them for the last time to get up on Saturday and let us down, after all in the dominant culture of the land nazaalaekyibi akyiwana.
I implore us to take direct action and come up on Saturday for one last chance to be let down by the men we greatly trusted against the giants of Ivory coast. We will win to avoid going down or we will lose to help us go there just barely to rebuild. We shall also condole with our Kenyan brothers as we look forward to 4 more years of uncertainty.
I hope this letter finds you all strong in faith, the circumstances will rise again for us to wear shorts and be out in the sun and invite more people to join us in the great festival of rugby. We shall cheer those who have gained the freedom of a world cup. We shall continue to dance into the wee hours of the night as we are won’t do in these parts.
Yours for the cause of rugby.
Zeno Othieno Owora.
