Will the real Highlanders chairman please stand up?

Stanford Chiwanga, [email protected]

CHAOTIC, confused, tumultuous, muddled, messed up, bewildered, addled, befuddled, demented, disoriented, disorderly, disarranged, disarrayed, and disorganised.

Out of order, at sixes and sevens, at sea, in shambles, in pandemonium, a mare’s nest, a wreck, and higgledy-piggledy.
These are just a few words and phrases that can be used to describe the Highlanders executive committee led by Kenneth Mhlophe.

The club is a ship adrift, lost in a sea of confusion and mismanagement. The once-proud institution is now a mere shadow of its former self, plagued by chaos of its own making after it allowed a handful of rogue elements to steal and run the show. The executive, frozen by fear, is helpless and powerless to do anything.

Not that they can’t; they can, but they won’t because the same elements are the reason they are in office. Without this group of ne’er-do-well club members, former chairman, Johnfat Sibanda, would still be in charge.

But Sibanda is not in charge, Mhlophe is. Oh no, he was, and is not anymore. He is virtually a prisoner in his own house. The faceless men and women who were instrumental in his election victory have taken over.

No, we lie; they are not faceless. We know who they are. They have been waiting in the wings to take over. Like a crocodile, they patiently waited for their prey to get in the water. They lurked in the shadows. They were out of sight, out of mind, but they hid in plain sight and were under the radar.

Let’s be more ominous for a minute. They were looming large. They were crouching in the darkness. They were creeping in the night. A dark presence.

A figurative description would say they were a silent observer, a watchful eye, a phantom menace, a shadowy figure, a wolf in sheep’s clothing, a ticking time bomb.

Weeks ago, they finally surfaced. They showed their hand. They couldn’t resist. The US$6  000 fine Highlanders were slapped with after being blamed for causing the abandonment of their Chibuku Super Cup match against Simba Bhora was the perfect storm.

“We will boycott the next PSL home match. We will meet at the Highlanders clubhouse and raise funds to help the club to pay the hefty fine,” they said in their mobilising statement on various social media platforms.

And boycott they did. And raise funds they did — almost US$10  000. It was a success. “Victory” against the Premier Soccer League (PSL) was achieved. They showed the PSL the middle finger. The fans spoke against the perceived injustice and they were heard.

It was unprecedented, it was historic, an earthquake even. They sneezed and the whole PSL caught a cold. It emboldened them. They used the success of that boycott to present themselves as paragons of virtue, cloaked in the guise of decency and good intentions. They were charming, persuasive, and seemingly altruistic, making it easy for them to worm their way into the hearts and minds of many unsuspecting Highlanders fans who had opposed the boycott.

At first glance, these deceptive intruders appeared to be the epitome of kindness and reliability. They offered a helping hand, lent a sympathetic ear, and went out of their way to make Highlanders feel valued and supported. Their actions were calculated and designed to build trust and create a facade of genuine partnership and affection.

However, beneath this veneer of benevolence lay a more sinister agenda. Now that they have ingratiated themselves and gained the trust of their targets, their true nature has surfaced. They have started to manipulate situations to their advantage, subtly exerting control and influence over Highlanders. Their initial acts of kindness are now revealed to be strategic moves in a larger game of dominance and exploitation.

They were adept at identifying vulnerabilities and exploiting them. They have used emotional manipulation, guilt-tripping, and outright lies to maintain their influence over the club and a few fans who refuse to see through them. They have eroded the confidence and autonomy of the Highlanders executive, making it increasingly difficult for Mhlophe and co to break free from their grasp.

Last Sunday, they tried to pull off another boycott. Again, the club backed them. Unlike the first boycott, this time the club’s backing was silent. No club representative spoke. Not a word was uttered. It spoke through actions. It gave them a venue — the clubhouse again. It gave them the minibus — which was used as a cash-collecting site. It allowed them to deny entry into the clubhouse to anyone who was not willing to pay. Unfortunately for them, the fans were not buying it this time.

The boycott/fundraiser was not a “resounding” success. Some fans went to Barbourfields Stadium, where the club only netted US$811 through gate-takings. Others chose to stay away from it all. Less than US$2  000 was raised by those who chose the clubhouse.

The club’s executive treasurer issued a statement thanking them, betraying the charade that the boycott was not endorsed by the club.

On the day of the boycott/fundraiser, the Chronicle was there. It witnessed it all and reported it like it was. The venomous responses to every Chronicle article that followed told you everything you needed to know about them. They are bitter; they are angry, they are vengeful, and they are shameless.

They don’t want to be questioned. They want to tell their story without being scrutinised. But the Chronicle would cease to be the Chronicle if it did not show concern for one of the biggest clubs in Zimbabwe. It would be seen as unprofessional if it does not wonder why Mhlophe is quiet while the club is being destroyed by those who claim to love it.

But we are doing a disservice to Mhlophe. You don’t become the Highlanders chairman when you are not streetwise. Mhlophe was and maybe is simply unsuspecting. But it’s about time he spoke out. It’s about time he realises that these individuals are insidious. They have been gaslighting the executive, psychologically manipulating the club and undermining its sense of reality.

But it’s about time Mhlophe wakes up. Mhlophe and his executive need to recognise the signs of such manipulative behaviour.
It is about time Mhlophe breaks free from their grasp. It’s about time he stands up and is seen. The season of madness must come to an end. If he lets them do what they want, then he has relinquished power to them.

The grapevine says Mhlophe wants to be the boss of the PSL. The people who have the command to vote him into power are watching with interest. They wonder why he is railing against the very organisation that he wants to lead. They want to see if he has the courage to stand up to the people who helped him to regain control of Highlanders.

If he continues letting them run the show, then he is the club chairman only in name. They demand to hear from the executive chairman of Highlanders Football Club. Will the real Highlanders’ chairman please stand up?

Chances are that he will not stand up. We will wait forever before he “rebels” against the very people who gave him power.