taking the first steps

from (failed) goalkeeper and wicket keeper to comrade

I grew up fancying myself as a “ball games” guy. I never thought of running as a true sport. Most sports require running. You cannot play football, hockey, rugby, basketball, cricket, you name them all, if you cannot run. To me running was just part of the minimum skills required for any sport – of course chess or darts are obvious exceptions to this.

I hated the first term of the year at school. For us, at Dandamera Primary School, the first term was all about athletics. Athletics meant running. Nothing else. Ball games would come later in the year, during the second term. I was perpetually ill during the first term of each school year. I even self-diagnosed myself an asthmatic. My mother did not help matters either. She would pay the school a visit at the beginning of the year to remind the teachers that I was an asthmatic and should not take part in any running activities. Back then parents ran schools, not careerists. The teachers were parents and members of the small community. They were also “Mai vaNhingi” or “Baba vaNhingi”. 

When the second term of the school year came, I would be at the forefront of the school football team hoping to clinch the captaincy of the team. It is no surprise, when I look back, that I battled to have a place in the school team. The other guys who had represented the school in athletics during the first term were always miles ahead of me and a few other wannabes. The closest I got was reserve goalkeeper. It was a massive breakthrough for me. Thanks to the actual reserve goalkeeper falling ill a few days before the tournament. Years later, refusing to accept that my soccer career ended before it even started, I went back to Dandamera to make a mark on my (very unsuccessful) football career at the school by donating a football kit.

Having failed as a goalkeeper in primary school, I tried my luck with cricket at Hermann Gmeiner Secondary School. Everyone now tells me that I have the height for a fast bowler. However, at that time I fancied myself as a wicket keeper – despite being one of the tallest guys on the team. The wicket keeping did not go well either. I, however, managed to captain our school’s reserve cricket team. But, as fate had it, our opponents did not bring their reserve team on the day I had proudly told my parents that I would be involved in the coin toss. That was it for me. I gave up on playing sport and found solace in the Supporters’ Group. This was not a formal structure at the school, but we managed to get recognition from the Sports Master (Mr. Zhuwao) and later the Headmaster (Mr. Mafukidze). We sang and danced like no other group. We were the go to supporters for every sporting code at the school. They could not find a name for us and christened us “The Zero Boys”. They said we were too good to be number 1. We came before number 1, hence “The Zero Boys”.

After secondary school, I switched loyalties and went to Chipindura High School, across town, for my “A” Levels. I did not bother trying to play any sport. I went straight to the Supporters’ Group. I remember singing and dancing so well at a football tournament at my former school, Hermann Gmeiner. We were so good that my former teachers were jealous and labelled us “madofo” (dunderheads). There was one big fallacy in that though. The bulk of our group's members were in Form 5 and Form 6 (Advanced Levels). The highest you could go at Hermann Gmeiner at that time was Form 4 (Ordinary Level). You had to pass your 'O' Levels to get a shot at 'A' Levels. The songs we composed around this were so hilarious that Mr. Makoni, our football team’s coach, came to us the next day of the tournament and requested us to stick to the same "playlist." I used to carry the "playlist." We called it “The CD”. It was a full album. Its title was Chitekete. Chetekete was such a heat. The lyrics of this title track are worth setting out in this story. They were along these lines (line 1 is the Lead vocalist [usually me] and line 2 is the backing vocalists [rest of the group]):

1 – Mombe-e-e yehumayiiiiii…

2 – mombe-e-e yehumayiiii yaparadza musha…

1 – mombe-e-e yehumayiiiii iyi…

2 - mombe-e-e yehumayiiiiii yaparadza musha...

1 – hona vaigara kuHigh Firidzi…

2 – hona vaigara kuHigh Firidzi wo-o-oo...

1 – Apo vakatenga kafantasy….

2 – Apo vakatenga kafantasy wo-o-o…

1 – hona ndokuzotenga kawairesi…

2 – hona ndokuzotenga kawairesi wo-o-o…

1 – apo vairidza Chi-te-e-ke-e-te-e…

2 – apo vairidza Chi-te-e-ke-e-te-e wo-o-o…

1 – Chitekete irhumba….

2 (louder) - Chi-i-te-e-ke-e-te-e…

1 - Chitekete irhumba….

2 (louder and dancing) husiku hwese-e-e...

1 - Chitekete irhumba...

2 - Husike hwese-e-e... Husiku hwese-wo-o-o...

In summary, Chitekete (our Chitekete) was a song about a young couple that lived in the high density suburb of Highfields. They started off by buying a bed (fantasy was the brand). Then they bought a wireless radio on which they played the song Chitekete. Even though the original song Chitekete by the late Leonard Dembo was a sungura song (Zimbabwean music genre), for these love birds Chitekete sounded like rhumba and they would dance to it all night. 
At that time, I never really understood the last part of dancing to Chitekete the whole night. Now I am older and wiser, and I understand it very well.

My university life on the sporting front was uneventful. I did not even try playing sports. I do not think I would have stood a chance had I tried my luck. There were just two many semi-professional sportspersons at university. Instead, I tried politics. I got somewhere, but not too far. A few years after university, bored, broke, and desperate to take my mind off the troubles of life, I found myself watching the Comrades Marathon on television for the whole day. I was inspired by the men and women of all shapes and sizes who crossed the finish line in the last hour of the race. I told my wife, Agatha, that I would run the Comrades Marathon one day. She rolled on the floor with laughter. Her advice to me was that I had a better chance getting over my issues by playing the lottery, than dreaming of running The Comrades Marathon. I remember this vividly, but there is no point trying to verify this with Agatha. She will deny having said this to me. 

When I went for my first run, Agatha stayed close to her phone and car keys. She was ready to come to my rescue. I am proud to say I did not disappoint her. Virtually 2.5kms into my run, I called her to come to my rescue. Despite having dodged running at school, I believed running would come to me naturally. I thought I would just run up the hills in our neighborhood and prove my wife wrong. That did not happen. I ate humble pie as my wife rescued me on the roadside.

The biggest lesson I learnt on that day was that “a journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.” So, off I went to join the local gymnasium. I started off by running for two minutes and walking for two minutes. I gradually increased the intervals until I could run for twenty minutes without walking. That was the beginning of my “Wannabe Runner” status.