Is Kuda Mahachi still magic or just Denver Mukamba with flickers of brilliance?

Stanford Chiwanga, [email protected]

KUDAKWASHE MAHACHI is back where it all began, back in the black-and-white corridors of Highlanders, back in the city whose football heartbeat once synchronised with his own. But he returns not as the lightning bolt who dazzled Barbourfields Stadium a decade ago, nor as the superstar who conquered South Africa with Sundowns, Golden Arrows, Orlando Pirates and SuperSport. He returns older, quieter, humbled, and surrounded by questions that will not go away simply because he has stepped onto familiar turf.

For years, Mahachi was a story told in superlatives. He was the winger with dynamite in his boots, the boy who left defenders groping at thin air, the man whose left foot carried the arrogance of a street footballer and the precision of a polished professional. But the last four years have not been kind to him. His fall from grace was loud, messy and cruel. The allegations levelled against him, though he was later acquitted, clung to his career like a shadow he could not outrun. Contracts evaporated. Opportunities dried up. He went from the bright lights of SuperSport United to a lonely year without a club, then to Ghana’s Medeama, where he struggled for fitness and game time before being released prematurely. His homecoming at Manica Diamonds was supposed to be the rebirth, yet he managed fewer than 15 appearances in the entire 2025 season, his legs clearly betraying him and his confidence nowhere near the swagger he once carried.

Now Highlanders have handed him a lifeline. They have looked at him — older, a little slower, and softer around the edges — and said, “Come home. Try again.” It is a brave decision. It is also a risky one. For every fan who believes in redemption, there is another asking whether Bosso have signed the Mahachi of 2014 or the ghost of that player.

It is a fair question. Football is unforgiving. It remembers magic but demands proof. And so the debate simmers: is Mahachi still good enough? Or is he at the stage where he becomes to Highlanders what Denver Mukamba became to Dynamos — a veteran whose legs have long deserted him, but whose ten-minute cameos carry the fire of nostalgia and the flicker of genius that can still win games? Last season, Mukamba was not a soldier for the full 90 minutes. He was a specialist, a cherry on top of the cake, a shiny trinket that made the dish look better even if it no longer fed the whole table. He was a garden salad — not the main meal but a delightful accompaniment. Is that what Mahachi is now? A luxury? A sentimental signing? A flickering candle rather than a burning torch?

Perhaps. But perhaps not. Because beneath the layers of doubt lies an uncomfortable truth: Mahachi’s biggest battle was never against fullbacks. It was against himself. The personal turmoil that followed him — the trauma of the allegations, the public scrutiny, the emotional toll — left scars that no amount of sprint training could erase. The question is whether these demons were the reason for his decline. If they were, then maybe, just maybe, he has a chance now that the storm has passed. And if they were not, then the worry is far deeper, because then we must confront the possibility that his legs have truly gone, that the burst will never return, that the Mahachi that Highlanders have signed is a name, not a weapon.

But here is the real truth: even without his pace, Kudakwashe Mahachi remains Kudakwashe Mahachi. A lion stripped of its fangs is still a lion. A bear with broken claws is still a bear. A beast, even when wounded, is still a beast — and still dangerous in the way only experience and instinct can be. Do not rule out Mahachi until he rules himself out.

But football is unpredictable. Bosso have built a reputation for resurrecting careers that seemed finished. Barbourfields is a stadium that believes in second chances. And Mahachi himself insists he is working on his body, his fitness, his spirit. He wants a club that trusts him, a place where he can simply enjoy football again. Bosso have offered him that. The rest is up to him.

So does Mahachi still have it? Or is he yesterday’s news? Is he a fading star clinging to a final spark, or a misunderstood talent awaiting one last explosion? No one knows — not yet. What is certain is that the story is not over. It is being rewritten in Bulawayo, on training pitches where once he shone, in a jersey that once fit him like destiny. And if there is still magic left in his boots, Highlanders will be the place where it reveals itself.

If not, then at least the final chapter of his career will be written at home, among people who remember who he was — and who hope, against the march of time, that he can be that player again.