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FKF president Hussein Mohammed when he appeared before the National Assembly Departmental Committee on Sports, Culture and Tourism Committee at Bunge Tower, Nairobi. [Elvis Ogina, Standard]
There is an old proverb that says when two elephants fight, it is the grass that suffers. But in Kenya’s unfolding football catastrophe, the grass is not an abstraction. The grass is 40 million football fans who have waited their entire lives for this moment.
The grass is a generation of young Kenyans who deserve to watch the continent’s finest footballers play on home soil. The grass is the street boy in Mathare who has never owned a pair of boots but knows every Afcon winner since 1957. The grass is the grandmother in Kisumu who does not follow football but will sit before a television in June 2027 because Kenya is hosting, and that means something.
That is the stake. That is what is being gambled with. And that is what makes the implosion at Football Kenya Federation not merely a governance scandal but a national betrayal in slow motion.
The self-destruction unfolded with breathtaking speed. Hussein Mohamed, the elected president, insists the National Executive Committee (NEC) meeting of April 24, which voted to suspend him, was irregular, unconstitutional, and in his own words, a coup.
His deputy, McDonald Mariga, insists otherwise, has assumed the acting presidency, and has warned that the governance failures he is trying to fix pose a real threat to Caf and Fifa compliance. Both the Sports Disputes Tribunal and the High Court have since barred Mariga’s faction from implementing the NEC resolutions. Fifa and CAF have launched a joint investigation. Accounts have been frozen. And in June next year, Kenya is supposed to co-host the Afcon.
So here is the question nobody in those boardrooms and courtrooms seems to be asking loudly enough: who is going to explain to Kenyans why we fumbled Afcon? Who will stand before the nation and say the greatest football tournament on this continent slipped through our fingers, not because we lacked talent, not because we lacked passion, but because two men could not agree on who sits at the head of a table?
Afcon 2027 is a once-in-a-generation inheritance. The government has committed billions. Kasarani is being upgraded. Talanta Stadium is rising from the ground. The Local Organising Committee has been reconstituted. And at the very centre of it all sits an institution so tangled in its own contradictions that it cannot tell you who is in charge today.
Mariga himself, in what may be the most remarkable confession in recent Kenyan football history, warned that the ongoing wrangles risk damaging the country’s credibility as a host nation. Read that again. The acting president of FKF is publicly admitting that FKF may not be fit to deliver the tournament it is supposed to be organising.
There are legitimate questions demanding answers. Was the April 24 NEC meeting properly convened? What really happened with the Sh42 million insurance arrangement involving an allegedly unlicensed broker? What of the Sh30.6 million charter flight deal flagged by the Auditor General, with missing procurement records that made value for money impossible to verify? And if these irregularities are as serious as the NEC claims, why did it take a political fallout to surface them?
Yet even as we demand those answers, we must demand something else in equal measure. Resolve this. Now. A recent CAF inspection reportedly identified significant shortcomings at Kenya’s proposed venues. Whispers that South Africa is being quietly positioned as an alternate host are growing from a murmur into a roar. Uganda is sprinting ahead. Tanzania is on track. Kenya is in court.
History is pitiless. It will not remember the court filings or the carefully worded press statements. It will only remember whether Kenya delivered at Afcon 2027 or squandered it.
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