You can hear the sound of a pin dropping in the heart of Dangamvura. You can catch the sound of a snail crawling across a desolate road in Highfields. Magwegwe North has been silenced by wild anticipation and uncontainable hope. Gweru is silent and in frightful and contemplative mood. All the bottle stores and gochi gochi hotspots nationwide are full of enthusiastic but fidgety fans whose eyes are focused on large plasma TV screens.
You are the capable coach who stands on the cusp of football immortality. Glory is so close: you can lick victory on your wet lips. You look at the soundless substitutes on the bench. Whom will you bring on that can put this baby to bed and make the nation proud? There is Peter Ndlovu and Moses Chunga on the bench, and only one substitution left.
Zimbabweans will forever talk an excellent game in football. Long before the Warriors qualified for the African Cup of Nations for the first time, football fans liked to imagine that the men's national team could beat Cameroon on any given Sunday the football gods smiled on us.
We liked to hold on to the few major wins we had scored against regional rivals like Zambia and South Africa and dream of much bigger and brighter days ahead. Watching Peter Ndlovu in fine form while he ran circles around sublime South African defenders in the National Sports Stadium inspired legions of new football fans and filled the nation with happiness.
But somebody always bought the lofty hopes of the nation crashing to earth whenever a successful era looked imminent. If it was not Kalusha 'King Kalu' Bwalya with a last minute header that spoiled the party for us, poor refereeing and blatant mistreatment in a faraway West African nation sealed our fate.
We have never really made it big on the international arena. Our near and hurtful misses in sport mirror the defeats and disillusionments Zimbabwe has endured beyond the football pitch.
Dr Bernard Chidzero nearly became Secretary General of the United Nations, until the real race for the position had begun, and the nation realised he had never stood a chance in Dotito of making it. And then Dr Simba Makoni almost made it to the pinnacle of the African Development Bank. But he never had a chance in Mavambo of snatching that distinguished honour.
Our trials and tribulations in sport and social and economic affairs have nonetheless made us a proud nation that has boundless belief in our potential for we regularly punch above our weight in small and impactful ways that makes us a special people and beloved country.
The inimitable products and wonderful humanity produced by a country so small are a testament to our collective will and purpose. But the fruits of our labour and intuition and much-vaunted education system remain apple pie in the big blue sky that hovers over the dishonoured Chiadzwa diamond fields in Marange communal lands, when compared to the social and economic well being enjoyed by Africans in Botswana, South Africa and Namibia.
Although millions of people are ready and willing to help usher in a fresh and winning national mentality, Zimbabwe is burdened with 37-year-old veteran politicians like Sydney Sekeramayi who believe they need extra time to win a game that slipped out of their hands roughly 17 years ago. Zimbabwe is laden with old policymakers, like President Robert Mugabe, who believe nobody else can bring us off-the-field success.
An astute and strategic substitution is needed now more than ever: swap the old for the new. Take a fine and long look at the young players on the bench and try somebody who is hungry for success. Employ a fresh defensive strategy. Park the bus for a minute. Run faster for a while. Kick the ball into touch every three minutes. Feign an injury. Waste time and then score the decisive goal. Do something unusual for once and win big for the entire nation. That is the character of an authentic winning spirit: change. Zimbabwean voters could learn a thing or two from Chelsea manager Antonio Conte.
Before you select your team of the day, check for injuries, loss of confidence and tiredness. Then choose the best players based on form, experience and game strategy. Only the aforementioned qualities count when selecting representatives for your team. Conte will not select a player on the wishy-washy basis that he comes from Uzumba-Maramba-Pfungwe.
Conte will not select a player based on ethnicity. While N'Golo Kante may be black and of African descent he will often get the nod before Cesc Fabregas does. Nevertheless, tribalism blemishes the selection of the best team players in Zimbabwean affairs.
African Development Bank Vice President Mthulisi Ncube could be an excellent national leader in finance and politics. We will never know though, because he is a Ndebele man. Thokozani Khupe could be a competent leader but she will never get the call to warm up and enter politics at the highest level because she is a woman and Ndebele for that matter. So let us belittle her stature and bash her instead.
Evans Mawarire could be a unifying force in politics and much-needed bridge between old and young generations in Zimbabwean. Yet we will never know because people rebuke him and the state has for so long has been breathing down his neck for nothing.
Millions of well-meaning patriots will however vote for the likes of Khupe, Ncube, Mawarire and Nkosana Moyo and female and Ndebele representatives in local and national elections without the need for social gerrymandering if they are the best candidates on offer. Let us not be narrow-minded: tribalism and gender and unqualified discriminations and selections are archaic and unproductive for the nation.
When will voters escape racial classifications and elect a Ndebele head of state? And how on earth will Zimbabwe ever score massive achievements in social and economic challenges when millions of people do not participate in societal roles on equal footings? You be the judge on this serious shortcoming. Now, back to Yaoundé. Who goes on? Peter Ndlovu or Moses Chunga?
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