. . . Going places with Kofi Akpabli: Brazil blues
I am supposed to be on the road somewhere in the Volta Region exploring the beautiful places and bringing them to you, dear reader. That is according to my schedules. But according to my mood, and taking licence from a national disaster that just hit the nation in Brazil, I refuse to join the bus.
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I would like to entreat Madam Editor to allow me some space to also lick my wounds. Since Ghana fell from grace on the world stage every Ghanaian has grieved in various ways.
While I while away time off the road, let’s see if I can raise a few issues for discussion. If the tears don’t make our eyes too misty, we may find our way through Brazil and link it to the issues of tourism.
Oh, how are the mighty fallen. About 10 years ago, I was scanning the mediascape in London at a time that nation had just won the World Cup. No, not the Brazil type. I am referring to the Rugby world title. The English press were agog with adoration.
In the midst of the euphoria, one commentator said something to the effect that the hero of the final match, Jonny Wilkinson, had brought much needed joy to ‘’this depressed nation of ours.’’
I was struck by the phrase and felt ‘‘oh, how could one talk about England like that.’’
Depressed paaa? A decade later I believe I can begin to understand that lamentation. I also appreciate the depression that has overwhelmed Ghana-land. Brazil blues. You can repeat it if you wish.
My subtitle for today is not to create a tongue twister. It is just to capture a mood.
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The last time I wrote about the Black Stars, it had to do with ‘woes of a Jabulani ball.’ However, unlike now, we were only brooding over the devilish hand attack of a certain Suarez. (Yes, the same who has recently added his set of teeth to his arsenal of sabotage).
At the time, some Ghanaians also soul-searched over the impatience of a certain precocious baby jet (Isn’t it interesting that it is another jet that transported 3 million USD cash?)
In 2010, there wasn’t much else to cry about. Compare that to 2014 and there is a cocktail of accusations, counter accusations, conspiracy theories, tales of debauchery, and Spanish style inquisitions in-the-waiting.
In fact, so thrilling are the fall outs of Ghana’s latest World Cup exploits that Hollywood is in the waiting to make a blockbuster out of it.
While we wait to watch that at the nearest cinema near us, could we briefly look at Ghana’s maiden appearance at the FIFA fiesta? Germany 2006 was the ideal cameo. We were the toast.
As things turned out in the end, my former Kotobabi neighbour Coach Silas ‘Borbor’ Tetteh, sat on the bench as Brazil nailed us to the cross. When it ended, we were glad we collected the ball from our net only erm… three times. It wasn’t bad. If there were back room theatricals, they were muffled, largely.
I could end the flashback trail here, except that Ghana’s soccer misfortunes are not caused by a lack of skills or talents. If it was, the likes of me wouldn’t have a say. As we are all beginning to surmise our own off-the-pitch indiscretions have hurt our game more than the strikes of opposing teams. Our football administration actions and inaction have become, to use the game’s jargon, our own-goals.
So, kindly join me as I wind the clock further back. February 1993. Tlemcen. No, this is not the name of a medicine. Owing to another football disappointment we were forced to memorise the name of this remote border town in Algeria.
The experience was as bitter as swallowing a quinine pill. All the Black Stars needed was to draw and we would have been in the running to qualify for the USA World Cup.
At the time, I was staying in a village deep inside the belly of Ashanti. A young fellow just finished secondary school, I woke up to a misty harmattan morning to notice that something had gone wrong in the air. Somebody had bruised the heart of the nation.
In the Amansie village of Afoako, I couldn’t follow my gang in the night to hunt for a black and white TV to watch that epic match. Ghana’s squad was made up of Abedi Pele, Tony Yeboah, Frempong Manso, Prince Opoku, etc.
Without a radio by my side, I could only wait to hear Ghana’s fate from the boys on their return. And you know how very easy it is to know when we have lost a game. Silence.
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In bed, I could hear them pick on the various actors for blame. It was later at an ‘Odorka’ (palm wine) bar that the details emerge from the lips of Gasino. Now, I would like you to meet this interesting young man.
Gasino, a product of Konongo Odumasi Senior Secondary was my fellow national service teacher at the local JHS. He was the perpetual absentee. Not surprisingly, he would always reappear when our allowance was due to be paid.
Each time we would wonder would the head teacher deal with him like he had threatened all week? Well, he could have, except Gasino knew how to be ahead of the game. If good-hearted Mr Osei Asibey Poku had any sin at all, it was his weakness for football.
Like a tactical coach who had studied his opponent, Gasino knew how to tame the head teacher. He would arrive in the village from another round of truancy in Kumasi armed with all the juicy scoops about Black Stars, Abedi Pele and the national league. To crown it all, he would come to school with fresh sports newspapers.
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As if he was an ambassador presenting his accreditation to a head of state, Gasino would drop a bundle of Africa Sports, Graphic Sports and Sports Express into the waiting hands of the head teacher. That nearly always earned him his chit to go and collect his month’s payment in Bekwai.
Well, back to Tlemcen. It was from the palm-wine sweetened lips of Gasino that I heard how the Black Stars were subjected to all sorts of Shenanigans by the Algerians. There were the issues of a watery pitch, a strange flashing camera that blinded Goalkeeper Damba and bad refereeing (I will come to this later). That was how that episode ended our 1994 World Cup dream. Experts say that crop of players would have ‘shocked fans’ had they qualified. Well, I wouldn’t be excited because a few months later, in a friendly match in Bochum, our ability to hold the Germans only crumbled because of a locker room banter during half time.
To be continued.
Kofi Akpabli is the author of Tickling the Ghanaian- Encounters with Contemporary Culture and A Sense of Savannah-Tales of a Friendly Walk through Northern Ghana