Letter to new FKF boss, Hussein Mohamed

Dear Hussein Mohamed.

You have seen the wild celebrations that greeted your election as Kenya’s next Football Federation principal. That’s the same mood Kenyans were in that day in December 2002 when we made the Great Trek to Uhuru Park to witness the swearing-in of a convalescing Mwai Kibaki who was then pinned to an orthopedic wheelchair.

That euphoric mood that uprooted the Moi dictatorship saw a global barometer survey ranking Kenyans as the most optimistic people in the world. Less than three years later – in 2005 – we slumped down to mid table, and another two years later – in 2007 – we were close like this to a destructive civil war.

I take you down this memory lane, reminding you of where we have come from, because one famous philosopher once observed that history repeats itself, first as a tragedy and second as a farce.

If there is something you have learnt from the mindset of Kenyans – and for which should be your North Star as you settle in office – it is that Kenyans are least trustworthy of bureaucratic authority, whichever it is. It’s a consequence of pathological trauma we carry from experience in the hands of those who wield state power and political influence.

If there’s one thing you must do, and quickly, it is to put your two feet firmly on the ground, and do things that assure the football fan base that you’re carved from a different political stone.

Being carved from a different political stone is not to say you cannot make mistakes. To err is one of the characteristics of being human; when you make mistakes, it shows your heart is still beating and the blood pressure is what needs regulation. Every time someone rushes to your scene and alerts you to stop digging the hole that threatens your very own survival, be sure to spare time and judge their concern on their own merit.

Downside to taking advise from the choir

There is the primordial temptation to focus your attention to professional advise given by only those who dug the trenches to make you king. One of the instincts of human survival is to coalesce around those who have demonstrated unconditional willingness to take a bullet for us. We shall understand if this intuitive trait manifests itself under your fledgling leadership, because you shall not be different from those who have gone before you, and history will have repeated itself.

Rewarding loyalists is not a bad thing at all, and you should not be made to feel guilty for returning the hand that fed you. Supporters are useful people to have in your corner, all the time. They will cross crocodile infested rivers for you – and when you ask them to jump, they will enquire how high.

Having people singing your name all around you is the greatest feeling in the world. It makes your ego swell larger than a hot air balloon, elevates you to a demigod status, and gives you the adrenaline kick that you’re on top of the world. Whatever you do, my brother, do not drop your old diehard fan base for a brand new second hand that might come after you assume office.

However, as members of the Kenyan clergy will tell you, there’s one existential downside to taking advise from the choir – they will always tell you what you already know and, in essence, what you would like to hear. The choir will not only remind you of the sacrifices you have made and the pain you endured to finally break the glass ceiling, but they’ll also erect a brick wall between your door and those whom they consider anathema to your progress and impact. It is your choice – the office is yours and you can do whatever you want with it.

In four years’ time, you will leave the comfort of your office to look for the same delegates to beg them to vote for you again. Five years after the euphoric Narc victory in 2002, President Mwai Kibaki was jolted out of his corner office back to the rough ground to beg Kenyans to find favour in their eyes to cast their future with him again.

He came face-to-face with a poisoned atmosphere everywhere he went. It was unbelievable that those who called him their saviour barely five years before were now in the same hostile mob baying for his blood. If you want to burn bridges after scaling to the top of the tree, you have the knife and the yam and the honours are all yours.

Enormity of the task in your hands

Being a veteran in the game has exposed you to the reality that the politics surrounding Kenyan football is almost a mirror image of the one played at the national level. You have a full office with professional staff who will be on the ground broadcasting your policy to the talent pool you promised to give wings and turn pro. Choose those ambassadors well, ensure they are not of impeachable character and are amenable to feedback.

When you have a team driven by a sense of collegiality and passion for the game we all love, the results of your leadership will begin to show immediately they become honest with you on the true pulse of the football ground.

Now that you’re settling in office and started coming to terms with the enormity of the task in your hands, you may look back at the promises you may have made during campaigns and discovered how lofty and unachievable within the span of time you put your word on. It happens to the best of us, and the panic shouldn’t be taken as a crisis.

To avert this realisation boiling over and inviting an undue sense of discontent from your stakeholders early on, you may need to cultivate a sense of periodical consultation with the fan base as early as you take notice of these pitfalls. If it starts badly, there’s 100 per cent chance it will end badly.

I leave you with the forewarning reality that whatever you do, put it at the back of your mind that in four years’ time, those you nestled under your wings and made a kill from the fortunes of football will be back to beg those they left in the cold not to finish you at the ballot.

They will remind us how you found an empty treasury and we should give you four more years to inflate the ball to the right pressure. You’re the one who has all the powers to determine how the fan base will react to your pleadings for re-election. In Kenya, four years is such a short time – you only need to blink twice and it’s gone like that.