Olympic Games: We reap what we sow

Let me be honest from the start: I personally believed that our Tanzanian team that participated in the 33rd Olympic Games in Paris, France, which concluded on August 11, was so weak that it didn't have any chance—not just of winning a medal, but even of making a significant impact in the world's biggest sporting event.

I say this because I have been closely involved with the Olympic Games long enough to understand its direction and competition dynamics.

I began closely following the Olympics while still in school in 1968, the year Tanzania first participated in the games held in Mexico City.

Despite being novices, Tanzania made a significant impression at the games—not by winning medals, but because one of its athletes, John Steven, although he finished last in the marathon, earned widespread admiration after limping to the finish line with his leg bandaged, arriving long after everyone had left the stadium.

This act still brings him great honour today, as it symbolizes the true spirit of Olympic Games.

Four years later, in 1972, I was already a sports broadcaster at Radio Tanzania Dar es Salaam (RTD), and there was a suggestion that I should join the Tanzanian team heading to Munich, Germany, for that year’s Olympic Games.

I was thrilled, but for reasons that my superiors later didn’t make clear, my trip was cancelled.

However, the Munich Olympics became famous that year not because of sports results but due to the terrorist massacre of 11 Israeli athletes by a group known as Black September.

The following Olympics came four years later.

This period, between the 1970s and 1980s, is often referred to by Tanzanian sports historians as the golden era.

Tanzanian athletes excelled on various sports platforms and fields, whether in football, boxing, athletics, netball, handball, basketball, etc.

I had the fortune to accompany some of these teams, especially during competitions with other African nations, where the prowess of Tanzanian athletes was evident.

Wherever they went, they were respected, known for their great skill and competitive strength.

The beginning of these achievements was in 1973 at the All-Africa Games held in Lagos, Nigeria, where something happened that no one could have predicted.

The king of middle-distance running at the time was Kenya's Kipchoge Keino. Keino was a force to be reckoned with.

His first Olympics was in Tokyo, Japan, in 1964, where he didn’t win any medals despite putting up a strong fight and reaching the finals in all the races he participated in.

After that, Kipchoge became unstoppable, winning gold at the 1968 Mexico City Olympics and another gold at the 1972 Munich Olympics.

He also dominated many other races worldwide, including all the Commonwealth Games he participated in.

So, in 1973, Keino arrived in Lagos for the African Games with overwhelming confidence, sure he would leave with another gold medal.

That's what he thought until he experienced what, at 84 years old, he still describes as the biggest shock of his life.

Kipchoge didn't bother to know or listen to the names of his competitors in the 1500-metres final at those games.

He was only eager to claim what he saw as his rightful gold medal.

He didn’t even acknowledge or glance at the slim, medium-height, light-skinned young man wearing a shirt with the Tanzanian flag stripes on his chest. All he saw was just another young competitor.

That young man was Filbert Bayi, who was only 20 years old at the time.

I got to know Bayi about a year before those Lagos games. One Saturday in 1972, I went to Kibaha Secondary School, where the national athletics team was training, to record the events.

When I arrived at the field, I was stunned by the speed of one particular runner. I silently admitted to myself that I had never seen anyone run that fast, even though it was just a practice.

After he finished, I approached the young man, introduced myself as “Tido Mhando from RTD,” and he replied softly but confidently, “I know you, and I’m Filbert Bayi.” That was the beginning of a great relationship between me and the greatest athlete Tanzania has ever produced.

So, a few months later, in that 1500-meter final in Lagos, Nigeria, Bayi faced off against Keino.

Still unaware of what was happening, the gun went off to signal the start of the 1500-metre final.

Bayi shot out like an arrow, just like I had seen him do in Kibaha during practice. He told himself, "Whatever happens, happens. Whoever can catch me, let them try." At first, Kipchoge thought the young Tanzanian was joking, but by the time the bell rang to signal the final lap, Bayi was far ahead and showed no signs of slowing down.

Keino began to panic, and the Lagos stadium erupted in cheers as the young Tanzanian, Filbert Bayi, defeated the world's athletics giant, Kipchoge Keino.

The world was shocked.

Keino announced his retirement from athletics. This was the beginning of a new and immensely successful life for Filbert Bayi, making him one of Tanzania’s most famous athletes ever.

This marked the start of the golden era of Tanzanian athletes.

Just a few months later, I had the privilege of accompanying the Tanzanian national football team (Taifa Stars) to Uganda for the East and Central Africa Cup, one of the most significant football tournaments for East and Central African countries at the time, including Malawi, Zambia, Uganda, Kenya, and Tanzania.

This was my first trip outside Tanzania, and it happened to be to Uganda, which was then led by Idi Amin Dada.

Throughout the tournament, this military leader never missed a game at Nakivubo Stadium, often stopping by our broadcast booth, where I was with my late colleague, Mshindo Mkeyenge.

He would joke with us in Swahili. Just so you know, this was during the period of tension between Tanzania and Uganda, which led to the actual Kagera War between the two countries a few months later.

So, what happened at Nakivubo Stadium? My answer is that the team, with players like Sunday Manara, King Kibaden, Mohamed Tall Bakari, Gibson Sembuli, Adam Sabu, Omar Zimbwe, Mweri Simba, Maulid Dilunga, Willy Mwaijibe, Hassan Gobbos, and many others—well, they were not to be taken lightly.

We reached the final and were narrowly defeated by the hosts, Uganda, in front of their president, Idi Amin, with a score of 2-1.

January 1974 brought another year full of sports excitement, but one major event stood out.

This was the year of the Commonwealth Games, held in Christchurch, New Zealand.

I accompanied the Tanzanian team, consisting of about 35 athletes. They were all well-prepared, and in the end, we were all given nice uniforms and everything else we needed for this trip.

At the opening ceremony, the Tanzanian team looked sharp, giving them the confidence and pride to aim for victory.

The Commonwealth Games are very similar to the Olympics. This team included cyclists, boxers, badminton players, table tennis players, athletes, etc.

But despite the many sports events worldwide, this year, the world eagerly awaited one event: the 1,500-metres final.

After defeating Keino in Lagos, people were eager to see if Bayi could also handle the two other famous athletes of the time: New Zealand’s John Walker and Kenya’s Ben Jipcho. Walker was the world record holder for this race at the time.

Due to its popularity, the 1500 metres race was scheduled as the final event of the Commonwealth Games.

It was a moderately sunny Saturday, and Queen Elizabeth Stadium in Christchurch was packed.

After a few remaining athletic events concluded, the moment everyone had been waiting for arrived.

I saw Bayi enter the stadium with great confidence, giving us immense hope, though all of us Tanzanians there were very anxious.

I was with my fellow journalist, Steven Rweikiza, from the Daily News, but we were both silent.

All eyes were on the eight athletes lined up on the track. The New Zealand crowd cheered loudly for their athlete, Walker, their local hero.

Then the gun went off, and as usual, Bayi shot out like a bullet, as if to say, "Whoever can keep up, follow me." Yes, Walker and Jipcho began chasing him, and fear gripped me.

 I closed my eyes, trembling.

When I opened them, Bayi was still leading, but the two were fiercely competing with each other while closing in on Bayi.

I closed my eyes again as the stadium erupted in cheers. When I opened them, Bayi was nearing the finish line, but John Walker was also closing in, as was Ben Jipcho.

Everyone in the stadium was on their feet, and suddenly, Bayi crossed the finish line in 3 minutes, 32.2 seconds, setting a new world record.

He had beaten John Walker on his home turf and shattered the previous record, which had stood for seven years.

It was a moment of immense pride for us Tanzanians who were there.

Suddenly, I saw Bayi running toward me, away from the other journalists chasing him.

He wanted to speak to me first, and we embraced. Tears of joy streamed down my face as Bayi received his gold medal, the Tanzanian flag was raised, and our national anthem played.

A massive crowd of Tanzanians, numbering in the thousands, which had never been seen before, came to greet us at the airport when we returned home.

Others lined the streets by the thousands. It's now exactly 50 years since this history was made, but no other young Tanzanian has been able to accomplish what Filbert Bayi did in 1974.

What is the problem? In Kenya, with Ben Jipcho, young people are breaking world records as if they are playing with marbles.

In New Zealand, Mr. John Walker, now 72 years old, has been awarded the nation's highest honor, and is now Sir John Walker.

In my next article, I will tell you about Mwalimu Nyerere and the 1976 Olympics in Montreal, Canada."