Online Reporter
Fungai Muderere
THERE are moments in football when the final whistle means far more than the end of a match.
This is one of them.
For Highlanders Football Club, 2026 was supposed to be a year of song, celebration and reflection. A century of existence deserved nothing less. From the dusty fields where the club’s journey began in 1926 to packed stadiums across Zimbabwe, Bosso had planned to celebrate 100 years of resilience, pride and an unbreakable bond with its people.
Instead, the black-and-white family has been forced to trade celebration for mourning.
The tragic deaths of chairman Retired Colonel Kenneth Mhlophe, vice-chairman Fiso Siziba and treasurer Nkani Khoza in a road traffic accident have left a wound that words can scarcely heal.
The club has not merely lost office bearers.
It has lost three men who chose to serve.
In modern football, attention often falls on players who score goals, coaches who win trophies and supporters who fill the terraces. Yet behind every successful club are individuals whose names rarely make headlines, people who sacrifice time with their families, careers and personal resources simply because they love the badge.
Mhlophe, Siziba and Khoza belonged to that fraternity.
They accepted the responsibility of leading Highlanders at a time when the club faced enormous challenges. Their task was never going to be easy. They inherited expectations as heavy as the famous black-and-white jersey itself, yet they embraced the
burden with quiet determination.
They travelled countless kilometres, attended endless meetings, made difficult decisions and carried the hopes of thousands of Bosso supporters.
They did it not for applause.
They did it because they believed Highlanders was worth serving.
That their journey ended while carrying out duties for the club makes the tragedy even more painful.
There is something profoundly cruel about the timing.
A centenary should have been remembered for fireworks, legends reunited, trophies displayed and generations of supporters celebrating together.
Instead, those same supporters now gather in silence, tears replacing songs, black ribbons replacing festive banners.
Yet perhaps this is also a reminder of what Highlanders has always represented.
Bosso has never simply been a football club.
It is family.
That is why condolences have come from every corner of Zimbabwe. Rivalries have disappeared. Chicken Inn, Bulawayo Chiefs,
Dynamos, CAPS United, Scottland FC, FC Platinum and Hardrock supporters have mourned with Highlanders supporters.
Clubs across the country lowered their colours in respect. Administrators, former players and ordinary football lovers have spoken with one voice.
Grief has united where competition once divided.
That unity is perhaps the greatest tribute the three men could receive.
Long after this tragedy fades from newspaper headlines, their fingerprints will remain on the institution they loved. Every young player who graduates through the club, every supporter who proudly sings “Bosso ayihlehli,” every child who dreams of wearing the famous black-and-white stripes will unknowingly be benefiting from foundations strengthened by leaders who gave everything they had.
As Highlanders continue into their second century, the names Kenneth Mhlophe, Sifiso Siziba and Nkani Khoza will forever be woven into the club’s history.
Not because they lifted a trophy.
Not because they scored a winning goal.
But because they answered the call to serve.
