The Mighty Chipolopolo

Chipolopolo. This word, which left me wondering for a day or two exactly how many “po”s and “lo”s it contained, is universally known here in Zambia. It is, after all, the nickname of the national football team and it was my pleasure today to see the Chipolopolo boys take on the Bafana Bafana (South Africa). International football in a country like Zambia is an entirely different cup of tea than the handful of Canadian international matches I have been to. For one, there is no need for riot police in full equipment to patrol the outside of Commonwealth Stadium in Edmonton, or protect the entrances, or defend the pitch. At Lusaka’s Independence Stadium, however, the police presence was very heavy, particularly so because in a recent match the crowd rioted after a loss – which cost Lusaka the right to hold international matches for an extended period of time.

The second difference, was that, unlike those matches in Edmonton, the stadium was packed. Nearly all of the 30,000 spots on the benches were taken. I estimate the crowd at 29,995 black folks and 5 muzungus, of which I happened to be one. This brought much amusement to the spectators around me – especially when they got me make to make the symbol of the PF (Patriotic Front - see my election comments) and when everyone, including me, gave what I believe was the “black power” salute during the national anthem.

Throughout the game the passion was evident. Every slight success by the Chipolopolo boys – getting a shot, running past an opponent, gaining a throw in, was met with rapturous applause. There was one silent moment – when South Africa scored midway through the first half. In one section to my left a brass band played throughout the game and people were dancing in their rows. Yet, try as they might the Chipolopolo boys could not meet their fan’s expectations on this day. A combination of shoddy first half defence and a mediocre midfield in the second half was too lethal to overcome, despite some attempted last minute heroics.

After the game, we visited the national memorial for the national team which was wiped out in 1993 in a plane crash – a team which would have qualified for the World Cup. This disaster is treated as the worse thing that ever happened to this country – which gives an indication of how powerful an image the team is for the country. Hundreds of fans who had minutes before been chanting, yelling, and encouraging their modern Chipolopolo sombrely walked single file past the graves of their beloved heroes. It was strange to see this quiet procession of people who had so recently been embroiled in the emotions of the match.