By Football, as Steve Broomfield posits in How Football Explains Africa, is more than just a game. It is a prism through which we can examine the continent’s social, political, and cultural dynamics. His account, while tinted with a Eurocentric lens, underscores football’s profound impact as both a unifying force and a tool for political manipulation.

We see how football united warring factions in Ivory Coast while at the same time he depicts football as a tool for perpetuating authoritarianism and how it is part of a corrupt socioeconomic fabric. This dual role of football as both a unifying force and a vehicle for political influence, and perpetuation of elites’ interest continues to shape the Kenyan sporting experience today.

In the late 1990s, Kenya had a maverick of a coach called Reinhard Fabisch, whose Harambee Stars side gave us hope as Kenyans. The German coach became an icon not just because of his tactical acumen but because he built a team that embodied national pride. Under Fabisch, Kenya’s national team had an identity, a sense of belonging that has since been lost in the shuffle of modern-day football management.

His impact was so huge that even after dispensing with the great team that had eliminated the mighty Algeria in the 1998 pre-World Cup qualifiers he built a solid team that most Kenyans still remember. In fact, we hardly know national team players these days but most football fans who followed the national team in the 1990s can easily name Fabisch’s first eleven and go ahead and name all the substitutes as he used to bring them on with 100 percent precision. He was the hitherto man of the moment and I remember one newspaper article with the heading “Fabisch for president”.

Fast-forward to today, and Benni McCarthy, a global superstar and South African football legend, has taken up the mantle of leading Harambee Stars. The optimism McCarthy brings is palpable. His experience at the highest level of the game, beginning with the 1998 AFCON when he announced himself to the world, offers not just expertise but belief to a team and nation desperately in need of a sporting renaissance. For many, McCarthy’s presence in the dugout evokes a sense of the “glory days” of Fabisch. Those moments when the national team carried with it a symbol of identity, pride, and collective hope.

The excitement that McCarthy’s leadership has generated was evident in Kenya’s scintillating 3-3 draw against Gambia, a match that reignited passion among Kenyan football fans. The performance not only sparked a renewed sense of belief but also galvanised fans to a social media frenzy of mobilisation to attend the return leg of the double header at Nyayo Stadium.

But this is not just about football. The narrative that is unfolding is far more layered. While football in Kenya serves as an arena for sporting achievement, it is also becoming a stage for political expression, a purposively identified platform for airing frustrations against the current political establishment. The mobilisation around the national team’s success reveals something much larger at play: a playing field to say no to the current political regime.

Kenya’s political elites have long used the media, both legacy and social platforms, to frame public opinion and project a carefully curated image of themselves. However, as more Kenyans seek alternative spaces for expression, football has emerged as a venue for resistance. The loud “Ruto Must Go” chants that did rent the air at Nyayo Stadium, which some believe were a tribute to those who lost their lives during the 2024 June demonstrations, speak to a larger trend of political disillusionment.

Football, as it turns out, has provided a “public sphere” that is difficult for the power elite to control. It is a space where dissent can be expressed without censorship, at least for now.

— The writer is a media studies
Researcher