It is noisy and crowded at the 155th birthday of Dale College in King William’s Town. Everyone, even people who never went to school here, are dressed in red and black school colours. The school army cadets march through the crowds with a clatter of boots. All, from toddlers to old men leaning on sticks, head for the CB Jennings rugby field; a sacred place at this school, affectionately known as ‘The Graveyard’ for it is where opposition teams are buried.
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The noise around the field is deafening as the lean and lithe players jog slowly out onto the green grass. This weekend revolves around rugby and this pitch is a cradle of champions. Some of the biggest names in rugby cut their teeth – and probably a bit of flesh – on this ground: All Black Greg Somerville; Springbok wing Bjorn Basson; former Springbok and Blue Bulls hooker Bandise Maku; the first black captain of the Sharks Lubabalo Mtembu; former Proteas bowler Monde Zondeki; Sharks looseforward Keegan Daniel. Makhaya Ntini – the record holding South African test cricket player – also sprinted down the wing on this ground.
Steve Biko – the Black Consciousness Movement leader who grew up in Ginsberg a few kilometres down the road – would have been proud. Biko, who died in police custody just over 40 years ago, was also a rugby player as well as an idealist and activist.
It is likely even Biko would have been surprised by the slow, but sure transformation at this former whites-only elite school.
As the first team prepares for the kick off, Hennie Otto is the only white player. The other 14 are all black. Even the heaving stands that rise up around the pitch are a sign of the times. Each group of reunited former pupils sits together in the same row according to school year. The stands used to be all white. With every passing year a white row is replaced by a black one.
“Out of 550 odd learners, there are about 25 white, colored, Indian and other races. The rest of the learners are all African black, which is a fair representation of the town they come from and the country as a whole,” says Dale College Headmaster, Mike Eddy.
According to Eddy, Dale College took the lead in accepting black African learners in former Model C schools during the early 90s. While the school’s racial demographics may have changed over the years, the first team coach, Grant Griffiths, maintains that the school’s traditions and values have not.
“We’ve kept all our traditions when it comes to sports, especially rugby. The jersey hand out, the sing-songs, the slapping, initiation, and all those things. The learners and players want to keep it from A to Z,” says Griffiths.
Griffiths too was at Dale College. He captained the last unbeaten rugby team in 1993.
This year’s team has beaten all their rivals in the province, and is number one in the Eastern Cape and sixth in the country.
Dale’s coach says while not much has changed in the style of play, compared to the team he captained, the biggest challenge comes with culture.
As a predominantly Xhosa province, the boys have to undergo a month long initiation in the mountain, as part of their rite of passage to manhood.
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“It’s always difficult with the boys having to go to the mountain for initiation school but we’re working around that. The six weeks straight after coming back is the most important. Diet wise, nutrition, gym. We’re never going to be the biggest side in the world but as long as we’re strong and fit, we’ll be able to keep up with the big boys,” says Griffiths.
“People go, they come back and they change. For example, if you are a new cap, when you come back from the mountain you’ll have that mentality of ndingu bhuti ngoku [I’m a man now] so I can’t go around picking up cones. We always manage to work around that though,” says Kwanda Dimaza, who has also been to the mountain and is set to go to one of the country’s top rugby unions, the Sharks, next year. He made the SA Schools under-18 team last year when he was still in grade 11.
Another hindrance to Dale College’s abilities is students choosing more prestigious high schools after primary school. South Africa’s 200-meter national record holder and one of the fastest men in Africa, Anaso Jobodwana, is one of the many who left for the college’s fierce rival, Selborne College in East London. Stormers hooker, Siyabonga ‘Scarra’ Ntubeni, is another who left for King Edward VII School in Johannesburg.
“It’s been difficult over the years but we’ve managed to hold on to more now,” says Griffiths.
Dale Junior headmistress, Patricia Thatcher, the first woman to head Dale’s primary school, says the learners are taught to be the best.
“It is about the commitment and the passion of the staff first of all. With them on your side, you start instilling the discipline and commitment in the kids from grade ‘R’ and once they’ve got it, it’s there,” says Thatcher.
Interestingly, Thatcher doesn’t even know the racial demographics of Dale Junior.
“It’s not even an issue of transformation anymore, it just is. A lot of people ask ‘how do you get it right?’ It’s not a case of getting it right, it’s what comes natural to us,” says Thatcher.
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While transformation remains a thorn in the side of South African rugby, Dale’s first team coach says it has hampered the future of some players he has coached. Griffiths says rugby unions often take players from Dale College and those players, more often than not, spend their time at those unions on the bench.
“A player like Ace Joe for example got lost in the Blue Bulls set up for two years, which is a hell of an important two years for him. I think he got 20 minutes of game time that whole season which basically cost him his career,” says Griffiths.
He says the unions now guarantee the players game time when signing the youngsters.
He hopes to see players like Aphelele Fassi, who has already been offered a contract by the Sharks while in grade 11, Dimaza, who is also set to join the Sharks, and many others with offers at various unions, one day don the Springbok jersey.
“I’ve never seen that being hard. I think the players that come through, if they get looked after, after school like we do at Dale College, with the rugby and the players managed well, as well as given opportunities, I don’t see that ever being a problem.”
So while South African sport struggles against the twin problems of transformation and creating excellence, it could perhaps learn something from Dale College.
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Red, Black  And Covered In Glory

South African cricket legend Makhaya Ntini believes racial quotas in the country’s cricket are “long overdue” and hopes to play the mentor’s role for up-and-coming black players to ease their transition into the international game.
Known as ‘The Mdingi Express’, Ntini was one of the finest fast bowlers of his generation, taking 390 test wickets in 101 matches, behind only Shaun Pollock (421) and Dale Steyn (416 and counting) on South Africa’s all-time list.
But now in a new phase of his life post-retirement, he is searching for ways to give back to the game and feels he has an almost unique role that he can play in the complex South African fold.
“I have always seen cricket as a fun game, something to be enjoyed before anything else,” Ntini tells FORBES AFRICA from Harare, where he has been helping Zimbabwe Cricket as acting coach of their senior national team.
“But it has also become an opportunity for young rural boys like myself to build a career and create opportunities for themselves that they might not find elsewhere. That is something we must take very seriously.”
<div id="attachment_5442" style="width: 213px" class="wp-caption alignleft"><img loading="lazy" decoding="async" aria-describedby="caption-attachment-5442" class="size-medium wp-image-5442" src="/wp-content/uploads/2017/05/000_Par3701327-203x300.jpg" alt="" width="203" height="300" />South African cricketer Makhaya Ntini gestures after the Twenty20 match between India and South Africa at the Moses Mabhida Stadium in Durban on January 9, 2011. The match marked the last international appearance of South African fast bowler Ntini, who got a rousing reception from a crowd of about 47,000 but conceded 46 runs off four overs without taking a wicket. AFP PHOTO / ALEXANDER JOE / AFP PHOTO / ALEXANDER JOE</div>
“I used to play Baker’s Mini-Cricket as a boy because it was something new, we never knew the game before it was introduced into the rural areas by [former Cricket South Africa president] Ali Bacher and [administrator] Khaya Majola.”
“The sport was not played in school; we had no television to see it. It was not a game that was part of us. But when given the opportunity to play, it was new, it was exciting.
“There were a few role-models that we could really look up to though. Omar Henry was there when we returned to international cricket in 1991, and he was a wonderful player. Obviously there were wonderful cricketers out there playing, but we did not get to see them.”
Ntini says he feels that had official quotas been introduced at the time he was starting out with the national team, the Proteas would have had a wider pool of players to choose from and been stronger for it.
Cricket South Africa (CSA) has recently announced that an average minimum of six black players, of which two must be black African, will be selected for matches across all three formats of the game over a season.
This is in keeping with a decision years ago to enforce the same quotas at provincial level.
“From my take, it has been long overdue,” says Ntini. “If it had happened at the time of myself, Monde Zondeki, Victor Mpitsang, Garnett Kruger, Geoffrey Toyana, our cricket would have never have gone through the troubles it has.”
“The talent was there, but the quotas were only in the schools and provincial sides.”
“The likes of myself, Herschelle Gibbs, Ashwell Prince and Paul Adams – we had to work harder than anybody else to get recognized. We had to perform in every game to stick around [in the team].”
“We could not have a ‘bad day in the office’ like many other players or suddenly we would be under big pressure. We were looked at in a very different way.”
“I had to wait four years to play in England. I kept being told by [former captain] Hansie Cronje and [ex-coach] Bob Woolmer, ‘you are on a learning curve, you must wait for your chance’.”
“It seemed impossible that I could take the place of an Allan Donald, Jacques Kallis, Brian McMillan, Shaun Pollock or Lance Klusener. These were great players, but I think if I was born seven years later I would have achieved a lot more in the game.”
“Because of that I think we had a responsibility to perform. We had a responsibility in how we trained, how we played, how we gathered ourselves off the field. We needed to make sure that when we went on that field, we had the tools to give our best.”
No-one in their right mind would suggest that new young firebrand fast bowler Kagiso Rabada has benefitted from the recently introduced quota system, he has let his prodigious talent do the talking. The son of a doctor and schooled at the prestigious St Stithians College, Rabada did not have any of the early disadvantages that Ntini endured as a young boy.
But the latter insists he still needs to be mentored and guided along the way.
“He has chosen a narrow road as a career, but he has a wonderful family around him to ensure he does not get big-headed and to offer guidance. He keeps himself grounded,” says Ntini.
“But I can see he is hungry to achieve more than what I did and is not satisfied with what he has done already. He looks as though he is challenging himself all the time.”
But Ntini cautions that international sport is an unforgiving place and says he will always be a sympathetic shoulder for Rabada or any other cricketers making their way in the game, especially those from disadvantaged backgrounds.
“Sometimes they need people to sit them down and talk to them as brothers,” Ntini says. “I have realized that we lack that in our coaches. They can teach everything about cricket, but our brothers do not have someone that they can easily open up to with their struggles off the pitch.”
“I feel like I can offer advice, because these things can have a major impact on your career. We have coaches to teach cricket, but when the player is off the pitch and in his hotel room, they don’t have people to knock on the door to see how they are doing.”
“Can I open up to an [captain] AB de Villiers as a black cricketer and say, ‘I am struggling with this or that, my girlfriend has just left me, I am going through a divorce’, things like that which have a huge impact on a person?”
“AB will not be able to guide them, I don’t think, but I feel like I can be that person with all that I have been through. If I had the opportunity to be involved on that level, I would jump at it because I see it as a way of giving back to the game and to South African cricket.”
Ntini says he has enjoyed his stint with Zimbabwe Cricket, even if the side did receive some criticism during his tenure for crushing losses to India and New Zealand.
It is, perhaps, unfair to lay the blame for those defeats at the door of Ntini given how little cricket the Zimbabwe national teams plays. Whatever the result, he continues to flash his trademark smile.
“Enjoyment is an understatement, I am loving it [coaching],” he says. “I put my whole heart into it. Look at Zimbabwe cricket and cricketers, how much they have changed from where they were since I got here.”
“They tend to enjoy themselves now, they open up to us, they have the freedom of being able to be you, not the restriction of trying to impress me.”
But he says his heart remains in South Africa and if the right opportunity came to return home, he would jump at it.
“South Africa is my country, I will never run away,” he says.

The Role Model Waiting For A Role

As rugby ponders its future in Africa, the game is catching on in the city that never sleeps and doesn’t know an All Black from a Springbok.
In April, the new and rich PRO Rugby league was launched in New York. It has four South African players among its five teams.
Pedrie Wannenburg, a former Springboks and Blue Bulls loose forward, captains Denver and plays alongside compatriots Armandt Peens, Martin Knoetze and Niku Kruger. The four helped Denver to lead the league with six games unbeaten. Former Nelson Mandela University scrumhalf Charlie Purdon is a star player for San Diego.
Another three South Africans are among the coaching staff for the teams. South Africans make up the majority of the 15 foreign players and coaches contracted to PRO Rugby. Wannenburg, who is the most senior of the players, and one who was capped 20 times by the Springboks, earns $70,000 a year at Denver. The lowest paid player in the league gets $20,000.
PRO Rugby is the brainchild of New York investor Doug Schoninger, who owns Stadium Capital Financing Group. He is counting on the influence of foreign players to grow the sport, which is little known in the United States.
“We needed the help of foreign players, they really play a great service. We have the All Black fullback Mils Muliaina and Springbok loose forward Pedrie Wannenburg as captains. They serve such a great mentorship purpose in their teams. We have this Italian guy, Mirco Bergamasco, he is a mentor and captain for Sacramento. Their culture of rugby is better than ours and they are giving that to our players,” he said.
Schoninger, like many Americans, knew little about rugby, in 2014, when he failed to buy a minor league baseball team. Through an Australian friend, Schoninger was diverted to another investor who had struggle to bring rugby to the United States for nine years. Schoninger didn’t agree with the terms of the potential partner, who wanted to compete with the National Football League (NFL).
Instead Schoninger started alone and small; PRO Rugby was approved by USA Rugby in April 2015.
Schoninger says rugby may be small, compared to baseball and basketball, but has great potential.
“Most people don’t even know what rugby is – they know the name – there could be only two million people who know rugby in America. That’s what gets potential sponsors excited. It’s a new white sheet of paper in America. It’s not rugby in England or South Africa or Australia. Our rules are slightly different; our presentation is different. Arguably, there’s no other sport with this kind of opportunity in America, that’s well known, that has the World Cup every four years, that’s not here. That’s what I saw when I was talking to my Australian friend.”
USA Rugby, the sport’s national body, said the sport was the fastest growing team sport in the United States between 2008 and 2013. The game has increased it draw for spectators. In 2014, the All Blacks and USA Eagles played in Chicago before 61,500 in a packed Soldier Field stadium.
Schoninger said the league has not received any major sponsors, nor contracted broadcasting deals, but he was prepared to run alone for three seasons. He was hopeful that investors will soon come on board as the sport’s popularity grows.
The plan is to increase the five foreign players’ quota, per team, to seven in 2017. It means a another handful of South Africans, like 26-year-old Purdon, will line up for hard currency and softer tackles in the city that could be waking up to rugby.

Rugby In New York? Nice Try

For decades, Dan Qeqe Stadium, in the dusty Zwide township of Port Elizabeth in the Eastern Cape, was a bedrock of black rugby and home to African Bombers, a former first-tier club. It nurtured a handful of professionals, including Springboks Akona Ndungane and Siya Kolisi. The two were among the few blacks to represent their country and earn big money.
<div id="attachment_5060" style="width: 310px" class="wp-caption alignleft"><img loading="lazy" decoding="async" aria-describedby="caption-attachment-5060" class="size-medium wp-image-5060" src="/wp-content/uploads/2017/05/GettyImages-119660385-300x181.jpg" alt="" width="300" height="181" />PRETORIA, SOUTH AFRICA &#8211; JULY 23: Akona Ndungane of Bulls scores during the Absa Currie Cup match between Vodacom Blue Bulls and Toyota Free State Cheetahs at Loftus Versfeld on July 23, 2011 in Pretoria, South Africa (Photo by Lee Warren/ Gallo Images/Getty Images)</div>
These days Dan Qeqe is a rundown shadow of itself. The changing rooms are dilapidated and the pitch is baked hard with patches of red grass. Despite the dire condition, without fail, every winter hundreds of boys tackle each other on this pitch; the hope of becoming a Springbok lives on. As a young lad, I donned my oversized hand-me-down rugby jersey and threw my body into the tussle for the oval ball. We stomped the pitch, barefoot, until we were hardened veterans at 17. In 15 years I covered every inch and cut my knees open every week.
Fifty kilometers north of Dan Qeqe Stadium is the Nelson Mandela Bay Stadium, a state-of-the-art facility built for the football World Cup in 2010. It is home to Eastern Province Rugby Union (EPRU). In the hot days of summer, just before Christmas, this was the scene of a battle for the soul of grassroots African rugby. It was where managers from over 100 clubs fought their provincial bosses. It was so bad that a scuffle broke out and the security manhandled the angry.
It is part of a struggle to bring hope to black rugby in one of Africa’s hotbeds of the game. The problems run deep at EPRU. For years, there’s been no sponsorship due to lack of accountability; for months players weren’t paid and their reputable coach Carlos Spencer resigned; black players left in droves under claims of financial discrimination and the controversial signing of eight white players, compared to one black player, for the 2016 Super Rugby season.
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Bantwini Matika, the coach of the rugby club Young Collegians and a chairman of a national lobby group Rugby Transformation Coalition, led the fight.
“We have identified these problems for years and followed the due process but without any reward. Now we have seen a collapse of the whole system. Financially, never before has EP Rugby been so in the red. It’s a crisis of unprecedented proportions,” says Matika.
The clubs demanded accountability and a change of management in the provincial structure. At the top of the agenda was the non-payment of EP Kings – the provincial players.
“We are in a serious crisis in the Eastern Cape. This is the home of black rugby. The only reason we got the Super Rugby franchise was solely because Saru (the South African Rugby Union) wanted to create a platform for black players to showcase their talent to the world and for Springbok selection. This has been in the plans of Saru since time immemorial that we need a platform for black players and then the franchise was ideal… Unfortunately the Eastern Cape, which is Border and Eastern Province, has always been unstable because of a lack of resources and lack of sponsors, no solid administrators,” says Matika.
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Since 2014, EPRU has not held a quarterly meeting nor AGM. Matika says, besides the annual grant from Saru, EPRU cannot attract sponsorship because there’s no financial accountability.
“That’s a recipe for disaster. We have talent in abundance (but) our system and administration is not in place. If we don’t have ethical and decisive leadership, if we don’t have proper resources to create an enabling environment for our young people to prosper, we are doomed to fail. Hence you see them running to other unions at a young age. The rot is within the administration,” says Matika.
Mervin Green is Saru’s general manager in strategic performance. He says EPRU made it difficult for Saru to support them in running the business.
“Saru does not interfere with union’s domestic affairs, such as clubs and schools development. We support unions with finances and expertise to ensure they deliver on their own development programs. It is indeed not an ideal situation for everyone what is currently happening at EPRU. However, it is only the clubs that can change the situation,” says Green.
Transformation Rugby Coalition was launched in Soweto, Johannesburg, in 2012. Matika, the former University of Fort Hare captain and coach, was its founding chairman. He laments the lack of transformation in the Springboks.
“After realizing that all the agreements around transformation, whether it is through charters or Saru development plans since 2000, every three years we have a new document that is fruitless. All the rugby activists and (concerned) managers nationwide decided to launch this national structure in 2013 in Soweto. I am glad now we are speaking with one voice and seem to be making a difference and the approach is working for us.”
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A few months before the 2015 Rugby World Cup in England, calls were made not to send the Springboks because they didn’t have enough black players. Political party, Agency for New Agenda, made a court bid to block the team from leaving. They lost the case. This followed Saru’s climb down from the 50% black Springbok representation by 2015, they moved it to 2019. The move did not go down well with Transformation Rugby Coalition.
“The disappointing factor is that we are not getting a hearing. We speak and we write to Saru but they are not interested in what we saying. At the personal and individual capacity, Saru President Oregan Hoskins would respond with promises but there’s nothing happening, nor do we get any recognition from Sascoc (South African Sports Confederation and Olympic Committee). We would expect that as a lobby group we should have a budget from government but we are currently sustaining ourselves from our own pockets,” says Matika.
The African dream of playing professional rugby reaches far beyond the Eastern Cape. It’s mid-January, a thousand kilometers north of Dan Qeqe stadium. About 40 barefoot boys, aged between nine and 13, are taken through their paces on a rugby field in Braamfischerville, at the Soweto Rugby Club. Their coach is 35-year-old, chubby and outspoken, Zola Ntlokoma.
“We don’t only create rugby players here, we encourage discipline and we want them to pass with good marks. If you don’t go to school, we have no business with you,” Ntlokoma tells me.
Like his counterpart, Matika in Port Elizabeth, Ntlokoma decries the lack of support for grassroots rugby and asserts that he will transform Braamfischerville into a rugby hotbed. Soweto is a football area with three clubs in the Premier Soccer League.
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“Out of 49 townships there’s none with a junior team anymore after [the Golden] Lions Rugby Union took over development and government pumped money to them to champion development. But the money is not filtered down to grassroots where it is needed most. Hence we were forced by those circumstances to form Soweto Rugby Union. It’s not a racial thing, it is just we are tired of complaining. We won’t beg someone to play rugby, we love rugby,” he says.
Ntlokoma, who is also the secretary of Transformation Rugby Coalition, says in the 1990s Soweto Rugby Club dominated the Golden Lions Rugby junior teams with star player Stanley Mlotshwa representing the junior national team in 1998. The last was Malungisa Nkosi, who played for the under-19s in the World Championships in 2006, in Dubai.
Transformation Rugby Coalition researched why black players were not as involved in South African rugby as they should be.
“We discovered that rugby is not run as it is portrayed in the media. There’s a lot that our government doesn’t understand about how rugby runs. We felt that this is a mafia-like organization. It is held to ransom by businesspeople in Stellenbosch who are controlling the executive of Saru, telling them this is the direction they must take. It is that rich white group that decides who is going to be the president of Saru and the coach of the Springboks,” says Ntlokoma.
“Englishmen introduced rugby in South Africa, not the Afrikaners. Now should we give up and say it is the Afrikaners’ sport, I don’t think we will be doing justice to back off. It is a South African sport, that’s why we should continue embracing it. Some of us still hate the Springbok emblem because it reminds us of apartheid… I was a gangster and this sport gave me a second chance in life. Rugby, like any other sport, it changes people’s lives,” he says.
Liz McGregor, a rugby writer based in Cape Town, says Saru has enough money to expedite transformation. She’s sceptical about the target of 50% black representation in 2019.
“If our promising young black players are not being given regular game time at this level now, the next target – 50% of black Springboks by 2019 – also looks like a chimera. I have heard complaints about marginalization from black players for years, at provincial and national level. If the strategic transformation plan were effective, marginalization should be a thing of the past,” she says.
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McGregor raises concerns about Hoskins’ silence about the failure to hit targets in the Springbok teams.
“Grassroots development will always be a key strategic imperative of Saru. The current strategic transformation plan emphasizes the importance of this transformation dimension. We are actively involved in all unions to ensure we provide access to the game and particularly focusing on schools where there was no rugby before,” counters Green.
Green says Saru’s recruitment drive in 2015 saw 80,000 new players from over 300 schools around South Africa.
“The program for participation will be extended to high schools this year and we hope to reach township and rural schools to be in organized leagues. Our focus is also on capacitation programs of thousands of teachers and volunteers as certificated coaches, match officials and administrators,” says Green.
Clearly there are not enough to help more black Africans play the sport.
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Is A White Mafia Trampling  Black Dreams?

They must have sat bewildered as the van drove them out of the city. The Johannesburg skyline petered to bush too quickly. For the six teenagers, and their football hopes, Ghana was a distant memory. The red dusty fields of Thohoyandou, in South Africa’s Limpopo province, a distant uncertainty.
They flew thousands of miles south from Accra on a false promise, at their parents’ expense, to become lost boys of the broken world of African football. They arrived in South Africa thinking they were on their way to the moneyed Premier League grounds of England. But they were not and the agent who promised them this has disappeared along with their parents’ money. The South African coach they’ve been dumped on is trying to find their parents back in Ghana in a bid to send them home. This is the ugly side of the beautiful game in Africa where the youth are being misled through a murky world.
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It was the weak word of agent Francis Nkrumah that took these youngsters far from home. They heard him on the radio calling for trials in the coastal town of Cape Coast, three hours west of Accra. Out of 50 footballers, only seven made the cut. Skinny and dark in complexion; 15-year-old Richard Sogbadzi-Eddo was one of them. The midfielder says that he merely glimpsed Nkrumah during the trials. Most of the communication between the agent and family was over the phone.
“He was very dark and tall but he only talked to my brother on the phone,” explains Sogbadzi-Eddo.
The footballers, between the ages of 13 and 18, were told they would get a trial in South Africa leading to another with a Premier League club in England. They arrived in Thohoyandou, a small town in northern South Africa, with little idea where they were or what they were supposed to be doing. Nkrumah made big promises, says 17-year-old David Lawson.
“He said it would be a better place to play football and in three months we’ll go to Europe and we’ll probably be rich.”
Each family paid Nkrumah a little under $2,000 for their son’s chance for a brighter future. For all, the money was hard to come by.
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“My mother is not a government worker, she’s a trader in the market. So she had to take a loan for the money,” says Sogbadzi-Eddo.
The family lost their father five years ago and his mother has been supporting him and his four brothers with meagre earnings. Nkrumah’s promised them a way out of poverty. Lawson’s mother, a headmistress, borrowed money from her church to pay for her son’s passage.
This is part of the growing trade in young footballers between Africa and Europe that often ends in broken families and shattered dreams. South Africa is becoming a way station within this strange and exploitative system, says Dan McDougall, an investigative journalist, who has covered what he calls the trafficking of West African players to Europe.
McDougall has met many young Ghanaians like Lawson and Sogbadzi-Eddo, lured from home and stranded in Europe. He believes that the nature of the industry encourages many to prey on promising young players from impoverished families in West Africa.
“This is an industry that stinks from top to bottom.”
Agents, like Nkrumah, often run informal football academies across West Africa with hopes of supplying the wealthy clubs of Europe with another Didier Drogba or Michael Essien. In Ghana, players as young as 10 are sent abroad in the hope of securing trials. Others take illegal routes to Europe huddled on boats in search of a better life. The journey is dangerous and often deadly. In 2009, the Nazar, a fishing vessel carrying hundreds of African migrants capsized off Tripoli, killing 300. Fifteen of its passengers were believed to be young players on their way to the pitches
of Europe.
Reaching the shores of Europe doesn’t guarantee a future.
“This is a deadly business, families are being extorted and most of the time these kids don’t have the ability to make it,” insists McDougall.
Unlike the Ghanaians in Limpopo who at least have a roof over their head, many football hopefuls who make it to Europe from West Africa are forced to survive in ghettos and back alleys. Bernard Bass, a young player from Equatorial Guinea, whom McDougall met, made his way to France from Ghana. Living in the Paris ghetto of Clichy-sous-Bois, he was threatened with the police by the club he hoped to try out for, Metz in eastern France, because they didn’t know who he was. He stayed on in France illegally, sleeping on the floor of a friend’s apartment.
Back in Thohoyandou, the youngsters from Ghana have landed on the doorstep of unwitting former English professional footballer, Bally Smart. The former midfielder for Norwich City, who returned to Polokwane – the city of his birth – to set up his dream football academy is now lumbered with six  youths abandoned in South Africa who were merely given his address.
“He didn’t know anything [about Nkrumah]. But he asked us to stay and take the time to learn football. He said everything would be fine,” Sogbadzi-Eddo recalls.
It isn’t fine. Smart is trying to contact their parents back in Ghana and is at a loss. The agent has disappeared and could not be reached by the boys or by FORBES AFRICA. The boy’s visas expire in less than a year and they are running out of time.
“It’s frustrating to have them here because I am footing all the costs. I am just trying to make sure that they’re OK,” says Smart, who has never met Nkrumah.
Despite grim realities in Europe, the Ghanaian boys in Thohoyandou are hopeful.
“In West Africa, there are no chances. It is difficult to make it,” says young Sogbadzi-Eddo, who still has his sights set on Europe. “I am still positive that it will happen.”
This is just one of the problems on Smart’s plate. His dusty pitch has become a microcosm of the problems and divisions in African football. His academy, Polokwane United – where the Ghanaian boys live, learn and play – is facing a five-year suspension allegedly imposed by the Limpopo arm of the South African Schools Football Association (SASFA) which regulates the sport’s academies in the province. The academy has been barred from all competition. Smart insists that the suspension has no basis and that it was delivered unofficially. In early September, he filed an official complaint. FORBES AFRICA obtained a copy.
“It is clear that our strong teams and style of play is a thorn to the soccer politics in the district (Vhembe) and as a result our school has been targeted to be sabotaged (sic) and unfairly sidelined in an unscrupulous and corrupt manner,” Smart wrote in his complaint.
SASFA were unavailable for comment.
The suspension was a kick in the guts for all at Polokwane United – South Africans and Ghanaians alike.
Veteran football journalist, Mark Gleeson, believes that this is endemic in South African football.
“South Africa is notoriously bad for not promoting young football players,” he says.
“We need to understand how a society works as far as football is concerned. The Dutch and the German way of doing things reflects their society. We need to understand how African society works for the development of African football.”
It is not for a lack of money. South Africa has some of the most moneyed leagues on the African continent but these teams depend heavily on patronage. Smart has had no sponsors since he started his football academy two years ago. He’s been running the school from his own pocket unlike the other teams and academies around him which are owned largely by businessmen with political ties.
Smart and his boys have many challenges ahead. But he remains optimistic. One of his protégés is preparing for genuine trials in Britain in late September. As for his Ghanaian wards, although let down by the game they love, they are glad they landed on his doorstep.
“We eat three times daily here. I am happy here, everything will be OK,” says Sogbadzi-Eddo.
Unfortunately, optimism alone is not enough to cover the miles to the trials in Europe.
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The Bewildered Chasing A Broken Dream

There are millions of children playing football around the world, but only a fraction will ever make it to the professional ranks.
Ability is an obvious factor, you either have the talent or you don’t, but while technique and tactical awareness can be taught to a certain extent, there are a whole range of other issues that come into play.
One of the keys in developing players for the modern professional game is to get them into structured academies at the earliest possible age.
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In Europe and South America, it is common for youngsters to be linked to academies by the time they are at the age of seven or eight. The reason for this is simple, it is the best age to start teaching them the fundamentals of the game and set them on the correct path to a professional career.
In Africa there are millions of children playing the game; a handful of them are attached to clubs while the rest play at schools or on the streets.
The lack of structured coaching at a young age prevents them from taking the step up from street football. The few lucky individuals that attract interest from professional clubs are held back because they have already picked up bad habits that are difficult to dislodge.
A 17-year-old should have the basics of the game ingrained in them. They should not need to be taught how to pass, cross and shoot. Today, the sad reality is that a lot of players do not have these skills due to a lack of coaching in their formative years.
I look across the leagues of Africa and I see professional players who struggle with the basics.
The academies at Barcelona and Ajax Amsterdam are renowned for producing some of the world’s most talented stars. When one of their players reaches the age of 17, he has probably spent 10 years in the academy and will be more technically advanced than players from Africa. He will also know exactly what his role is in the side and where to position himself at any given moment in the game.
This is often the biggest criticism of players from Africa who move to Europe. Yes, they are skillful and have good physical attributes, but they lack the feel for the game that can only come with years of consistent and methodical coaching.
It is a huge challenge for our continent, not just to open academies to harness young talent, but to do it in the right way with expert coaching.
Those academies do exist in Africa, but they are few and far between and until we can get that right our players will always be at a disadvantage, relying solely on raw ability.
Some of the most successful players from our continent in the last two decades, such as Samuel Eto’o, Yaya Toure and Emmanuel Adebayor, were teenagers when they went to Europe and had the privilege of training at top academies. Had they only been spotted later in life, it’s doubtful they would have had anywhere near the success they have enjoyed.
Beyond the honing of skills at an early age, there are other factors that determine success.
Attitude is a major one. Players need the hunger to become a professional player and must be willing to put in hard work. Another factor is professionalism. There are hundreds of cases of footballers from all over the world – this is not only an African issue – who have looked world-class as teenagers but failed to live up to the promise because of factors outside of the game.
Think back to when you were 18. You probably felt invincible and perhaps even a little rebellious. For every player that manages to get past that phase of their life with dedication, there are others who fall by the wayside.
These days, we have players who are multi-millionaires by the age of 21, with more friends than they have ever had in their lives and lots of time on their hands to spend that money.
The temptations are huge and perhaps more so for African players who come from impoverished backgrounds and now have more money than they could ever dream of.
Today, clubs and agents provide much more support, in terms of counseling and financial guidance, but the player has to be a willing participant.
Africa has ability in abundance but the power to successfully harness it is very much a work in progress. It is why, to my mind, there are not a lot more African players in the top five leagues in Europe. The demands of the modern game are moving away from the purely physical attributes, which presents a problem for us.
Where is the next Eto’o, Didier Drogba or Michael Essien going to coming from? There aren’t any obvious superstars emerging from the continent. We have good young players floating around, but no great ones. They are not competing on an even keel with players from Europe and South America.
Our great challenge for the decades to come is to give them that opportunity and raise the standard of the development work we do so that the trickle of top players from Africa becomes a flood.

Where Are The  Messis Of  Africa

Helena Dolny has always taken the road less traveled. Currently, she heads up Grey Matters, a consultancy which focuses on leadership development, strategic planning, coaching and institutional transformation.
At 60, she is an accomplished, world-renowned empowerment specialist, writer and author of several books in fields as diverse as coaching, economics, organizational design and biography. Her vast expertise in navigating the choppy waters of corporate South Africa on the cusp of change and transformation is exactly what drew me to her as a potential columnist for FORBES Woman Africa.
I also knew Dolny had a way with words after reading her poignant account in the book Slovo: The Unfinished Autobiography. In it, she explains the context in which her late husband, Joe Slovo, wrote his memoirs, and why they were left incomplete. Slovo, one of my personal heroes, is a legend and icon of South Africa’s liberation struggle. He was the country’s first housing minister and served in former president Nelson Mandela’s Cabinet. Slovo died of leukemia in 1995, barely a year after democracy dawned. Dolny was his second wife.
Her inside track on the vagaries of corporate South Africa struggling to come to terms with change comes from her many experiences in the public and private sector. In 2005, Dolny served as the director of leadership development, coaching and mentoring at Standard Bank. It was a role which she says offered her the opportunity to recalibrate the bank’s delivery team. Prior to that, in 2001, she was with the human resources division of First National Bank. Her book, Banking on Change, is an engaging and candid account of her tumultuous experiences as the managing director of the Land and Agricultural Bank of South Africa. Dolny headed up the bank from 1997 until her dramatic departure in 2000, when she was embroiled in a spat over the direction of the organization and the pace of transformation.
Dolny also served as a member of the Presidential Commission on Rural Financial Services, and in 1996, was an advisor to South Africa’s first minister of agriculture and land affairs, Derek Hanekom.
Her journey towards becoming a coach and empowering women leaders in the corporate sector spans many decades. Dolny’s professional passage started when, as a youngster, fresh out of university and armed with a degree in agrarian economics, she made the journey from the north of England to the shores of Africa. Along the way, she came into contact with revolutionaries, rural peasants, presidents and academics, all of whom set her on a course that would invigorate her life forever.
The heady winds of change were sweeping across the continent. Dolny had been involved in the anti-Apartheid movement during her student days in England. Through her work in Zambia, Mozambique and later in South Africa, she soon came into direct contact with those at the epicenter of change in southern Africa.
Explaining her decision to work in empowerment and development, and the connection between land and economics, Dolny often makes reference to her parents. Both were World War II refugees; her father was Polish and her mother hails from what was then Czechoslovakia. Her folks were ‘salt of the earth’ types, she says, and could have become very different people, were it not for their class positions . While her mother, who had greater class mobility because she finished school later on in life , became a nurse in England, her father was a factory worker.
“Although my dad worked in a factory, he was very inventive and always practical. In a different society he could have been an engineer. When growing up we heard stories of their lives during the war. Given my parents’ upbringing, I am not surprised that I wanted to go into an enabling environment,” she says.
“In my gap year I travelled to Zambia. I had to come via South Africa, and eventually, after completing my studies, I ended up in Mozambique.”
Dolny’s passion for and interest in land issues was sparked in part by a friend’s father, who owned a dairy farm. She also remembers wanting to study something ‘practical’ instead of philosophy. She enrolled in agricultural economics at Reading University in the United Kingdom, as conventional wisdom at the time dictated that “because you were a girl”, it was advisable to “read economics, rather than science”.
Shortly after Mozambique won its independence in 1975, Dolny found herself designing a bookkeeping system.
“When [The Mozambique Liberation Front] Frelimo took power in the 70s it was a very powerful time. It was a time of barefoot doctors doing stints in villages among the rural masses. I remember, at that time, my first task was designing an accounting system for people who had just come off a literacy course. Then we could dream,” she says, smiling.
As an agrarian economist in Mozambique’s Ministry of Agriculture, Dolny worked with farming cooperatives on development planning and bookkeeping from 1976 to 1981. She then joined a Canadian non-profit organization called Cuso (Canadian University Service Overseas), which supported development projects in Mozambique.
Dolny has traversed both the public and private sector as an economist, banker, empowerment specialist and currently as an executive coach. However, the thread that runs through her work over the years is a belief in the need to build and develop strong and ethical leadership in public and private institutions.
“The fish rots from the head,” she says, stressing the importance of developing and harnessing credible, quality and capable leaders.
As a member of Comensa, and with a string of degrees (including an MBA and a Master’s in professional coaching) under her belt, Dolny is at the cutting edge of her industry on the continent.
Asked to explain the difference between coaching and mentoring, she says, “Coaching is customized learning. Mentoring is about cloning little mini-mes.” Coaching, she continues, allows her to develop systems that are uniquely tailored to the individual.
In the November edition of FORBES Woman
Africa, Dolny will be debuting as a regular columnist, offering insights into how to navigate corporate culture and architecture across the African continent.

Tag: Coaching

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