"Ole Ole Oliech"

6/6/08

2010 World Cup Qualifier – Guinea v Kenya

Despite taking the bourgeoisie route into Nyayo International Stadium by way of a 300Ksh ($4.25) “V.I.P.” ticket, the primo seats in the shade and center do not place me amidst any sort of stuffy, anti-rowdiness fan base that one encounters amongst many wealthy American observers of spectacle. Decked in sparkling Premier League knockoff jerseys and sub-Saharan tight designer jeans, the overwhelmingly young male partners in noise are whipped into a fist-pounding, miraa-chewing frenzy. It’s an hour before kickoff and a Mkenya both full-body painted in Kenya colors and dressed in drag runs laps around the track prompting roars. In one hand, he holds a flag. In the other, a (I think) novelty banana. “We salute Obama” is painted in red across his chest, a phrase the stadium p.a. announcer often repeats.
The crowd claps/chants a rhythm long-short-short-short [hoo!]. Dancing can, and does, accompany. Folks fill the stairways, though seats behind the goal remain open. It seems against the Kenyan national character to boo the other side before the match. At 3:30 in the afternoon, even the drunks carry an air of dignity in their swaggers and stutters. A few give jeers, but they are politely petite boos that one hears at a kindergarten haunted house.
As the game begins, I notice that the end-zones have not only filled completely but that more watu are coming in than ever before. In the opening minutes Dennis “the Menace” Oliech splits two defenders and nets one for the home squad. A stadium has never been so loud. Groups of dancers prowl the faraway. A man takes off his shirt and rubs his belly like a jeanie lamp as he spins around. Spiderman descends from afar as folks instruct him to fly. He unmistakably considers attempting going airborne off a lengthy drop-off, then cowers away. Everyone laughs at him. The announcer then announces that newly-stated Prime Minister Raila Odinga has just entered the building about 30 yds to my left. Textbook African leadership. Wait until a moment of mass euphoria before showing up. Let the people viscerally associate you with good times.
The first half is tactically dominated by the Guineans. But they miss several clean looks by inches and are held scoreless. The Kenya side fruitlessly presses on with an offense entirely comprised of deep through balls to the forwards. The strategy proves not the stupidest, as a sensational behind-the-back pass from Oliech set the Harambee Stars up with a shot they shanked badly as the half closed. The announcer begs security to close the gates. The stadium is packed like the slums. More continue to pour into Gate 6. The announcer has to name a guard by name to get it closed. Others pound gate three from the outside, nearly shaking it open before tardy Askari interfere. Inside, we yell “Karibuni,” welcoming the late arrivals in. As halftime, the announcer thanks the crowd for “coming out and showing how sports can demonstrate national unity.” The loud system then pumps an East African produced response-and-response Barack Obama song. The verses describe his idolized life story. People shout the chorus (his name) with a gleeful timber not found even among us U.S. Daily Show liberals.
The second half is all Stars. The Guinean coach claimed before the match that the Brave Warriors would be lucky to escape with a draw because Kenya is “unbeatable at home.” Of course, the Harambee Stars have recently played, as the Daily Nation describes, “like garbage” on whatever pitch will host their corrupt, previously Fifa-banned squad. But today, the coach’s complement proves sincere. Oliech menaces his way past two defenders again to score. The crowd, far exceeding the 35,000-person guideline, changes the “Ole” chant to an “Oliech” chant. Oliech responds with another pro strike that hits the top bar, just a bit too high for the hat trick.
Either the high elevation above sea level and/or the high level of noise exhausts the Warriors. The African Cup quarterfinalists fall 2-0. Fans storm the field, grabbing fifa.com signs and holding officials’ chairs upside down over their heads. Way too many climb a small terrace and begin dancing. Some climb over the barbed wire into the V.I.P. zone, realize nobody cares enough to do anything about it, then climb back on the filed to rejoin to central fracas. The announcer ever-so-politely points out that Fifa officials are in attendance and may be apt to re-ban Kenya if the scene turns too spontaneously awesome, wildly African, or hooligan ugly. Apparently, it doesn’t. The crowd is hailed in the coming days as an example of how Kenyans should behave: united and jubilant in the absence of motivated law enforcement.
Barring further, increasingly-probable collapse of its government, Zimbabwe comes to Africa’s capital this Saturday.