/ 2 May 1997

It was a ‘victory for voodoo’

SOCCER:Julian Drew

HAVING travelled with Bafana Bafana to Pointe Noire to experience the inexplicable outbreak of “Congo Fever” which saw the locals’ confidant 2-0 predictions transformed eerily into reality, it was quite clear that there were “darker” forces at play. A simple stroll around the murkier corners of the local market and a once-over of some of the more inscrutable characters doing the rounds inside the Municipal Stadium was enough to convince one of that.

Like their neighbours across the Congo River, the Zaireans are also renowned for their unorthodox – at least by European standards – preparations for football matches and in particular their opponents. Fortunately last Sunday’s crucial away match against Zaire was moved from Kinshasa to Lome in Togo because of the civil war. There was therefore no need to worry about the local population doing all they could to unsettle the team. But there was still the thorny issue of those “darker” forces to deal with.

Qualifying for the World Cup is serious business which relies essentially on co- operation and teamwork. Upon arrival in Togo I decided that my contribution to Bafana Bafana’s flagging campaign would be to ensure that in Togo at least, the gods would be on our side. Clive Barker and his team may believe that it was they who beat Zaire on Sunday but if you would care to read on I shall reveal the true reasons for their success.

Vodun – perhaps the best known of Africa’s traditional religions – has its origins in Togo and neighbouring Benin from whence it spread, through slavery, to establish itself in the new world and become better known as voodoo in places like Haiti, Cuba, Brazil and America. Clandestine channels of inquiry finally led us – myself and accomplice Peter Auf der Heyde, editor of Soccer News – to the domain of Polo Kuma, a powerful voodoo priest of the Ewe people.

Polo Kuma was absent, called away to heal a sick relative, but the eldest son, Polo Kodzo, was at home. Bafana Bafana were in luck. Polo Kodzo was the voodoo priest who accompanied the Togolese national team to Zimbabawe for their World Cup qualifier in January. What was the score? Togo lost 3- 0! It would have been seven or eight if not for him, claimed one of his adherents. We decide to give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe voodoo doesn’t travel too well.

Like everybody else in Togo, Kodzo was aware that Bafana Bafana were playing in Lome and like everybody else he appeared to hold a favourable disposition towards the African champions. Even voodoo priests appreciate good football it would seem. We were invited into his shrine to see whether the ancestors and trowo – intermediaries of the High God, Mawu – would agree to intercede on behalf of Bafana Bafana.

There were two large, dome-shaped oracles in the corner of the shrine covered with cloths. Kodzo’s divination with the ancestors followed the same pattern throughout. He took a small bowl from a larger bowl containing a dark liquid at his feet and balanced it on his outstretched palm. The small bowl fell back into the larger one and the divination proceeded if the ancestors were satisfied. After much tumbling and splashing it was apparent the ancestors would be only too happy to assist.

Only one problem. Powerful charms would be needed to overcome the muti that Zaire had already put on the pitch at the Eyadema Stadium. Having arrived three days earlier than South Africa, Zaire were the first to train on the field and they had already doctored it with powerful juju of their own. More consultation with the ancestors fixed a price of 57 305 CFA – just over $100 – but time was of the essence. A little more than 24 hours remained to the game and many medicines had to be bought and preparation would take a long time.

A quick taxi trip back to the hotel and Thomas Kwenaite of the Sunday Times was convinced to part with the cash -I can only assume his travel allowance is much bigger than mine. How he was refunded shall only be revealed at the next Pickard Commission of Enquiry! After several hours of waiting at the Polo shrine all the ingredients arrived, including eight trussed but unsuspecting chickens and roosters. It was not an evening for the squeamish as blood flowed liberally in each of the three different shrines and incantations were made against the names of several prominent Zaire players.

Auf asked for a scoreline of 2-1 but I, ever mindful of goal difference, got greedy and went for 2-0. That Auf and not myself was more in tune with the ancestors became apparent when we returned to the hotel to the news that his sister in law had just given birth to twins – the greatest blessing that can be bestowed on an individual in Ewe culture.

The following morning we returned to fetch the muti for the players boots – three different plants, one of which looked distinctly like the seeds from a herb popular with Rastafarians – and finish the preparations for the fetish which would go with Kodzo’s accomplice, Polo Komi, to the game.

Auf sprinkled the green dust on the players boots as they went out to warm up while I ushered Komi – who had somehow conjured his way onto the field – to the Zairean bench. Satisfied that he had left his spell there I placed him behind the South African goal for the game. Those of you who watched on television may think the 2-1 scoreline came about by mere chance, but of course you didn’t see the hand of Mawu tip Ndombasi’s injury-time shot on to the post or hold Phil Masinga back so that he was off-side when Eric Tinkler’s shot screamed into the net after 90 seconds.

Yes you have every right to be sceptical but Danny Jordaan, newly appointed chief executive officer of the South African Football Association, was suitably impressed to join us after the match in thanking Mawu and the ancestors at the Polo shrine. As we sat and gave our thanks the ancestors demanded we show our appreciation in a more tangible form.

Jordaan emptied his pockets and offered approximately R120 in local currency. It was not enough. The little bowl would not fall from Kodzo’s palm. It finally dropped when the bidding reached R800. Jordaan whispered in my ear, “I didn’t know the ancestors were capitalists!” But then the ancestors were on the side of their kin in these negotiations and we eventually agreed that should Bafana Bafana qualify for France we would send triple the amount through the South African Embassy in Lagos.

Obviously fully conversant with the concept of “A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush,” the ancestors weren’t too keen on that idea either but they reluctantly agreed when a signed Bafana Bafana jersey was offered to keep them warm at night. But when the president of the Togolese Federation began his speech at the post match function with the words, “Your victory is not yours alone. It is also ours,” I knew staright away that he too had been talking to the ancestors.

The views expressed in this article do not necessarily reflect those of the author or Safa. Any queries or complaints should be directed to Mawu, far away in the invisible sky above Togo.