By VICTOR KIPROTICH LANGAT 

Second Year BA Journalism and Mass Communication Student, Chuka University 

From the first whistle of CHAN 2024, Kenya’s Harambee Stars captured the hearts of millions. Hosting the tournament, receiving support from leaders and celebrities and playing with passion, they proved that football is more than a game. It is hope, pride and unity for a nation.

On a warm evening in Nairobi, floodlights illuminated the stadium as thousands of Kenyan voices rose together. Flags waved, drums echoed and the national anthem filled the air. When the Harambee Stars walked onto the pitch, it was more than football; It was hope, pride and unity that rolled into one moment. For fans who were used to disappointment, this felt different. This time, the Stars were playing on home ground  and the whole country was watching.

The African Nations Championship,CHAN, is a tournament reserved for players in local leagues. No foreign-based stars are allowed making it a true test of domestic talent. For Kenya, CHAN 2024 was a chance to prove that local players could compete at a high level. Hosting the tournament was also historic. Stadiums were renovated, roads repaired, security strengthened and hotels prepared for visiting teams and fans. The Kasarani Stadium and Nyayo Stadium became the base for a national celebration.

Preparation of the Harambee Stars began weeks before the opening whistle. Most players came from local clubs, some balanced football with work as police officers or soldiers. Many carried families relying on their earnings. Training sessions were intense  focusing on fitness, teamwork and discipline. Players during camp could be heard saying, “Playing at home gives you strength but it also gives fear because you don’t want to disappoint your people.”

National leaders and celebrities stepped in to motivate the team. The President, William Ruto, visited the squad and praised their dedication. He promised financial rewards for wins and draws and spoke of long-term support including housing programs and post-career opportunities. “You are playing for the pride of the nation,” he said. “Give your best, and the country will stand with you.” Business leaders and former football stars also pledged bonuses and public encouragement  and the effect was real. One player later said, “When people believe in you before you win, it pushes you to go beyond your limits.”

The opening match day arrived with continuous excitement. Streets crowd with fans wearing jerseys and waving flags. Public transport played football songs, vendors sold whistles and scarves. Inside the stadium, families gathered, children painted their faces and elders also active. When the Harambee Stars appeared on the pitch, the roar from the stands was so loud. “This is our time,”  fans shouted.

The matches were tense. Every tackle, pass  and save drew cheers. When Kenya scored, strangers hugged as if they were family. Even in draws, fans left the stadium proud. The team’s determination and unity were clear. After one group-stage game, a coach commented, “This team is learning fast. They are no longer afraid.”

The tournament was also about human stories. One player had recently lost his father but dedicated every minute on the pitch to his memory. Others sent their  match allowances home to support siblings in school. Every  player who rarely appeared celebrated each goal with the same intensity as a scorer. “We win and lose together,”  they said.

As the group stage progressed, the Stars continued to defy expectations. Facing opponents from Morocco, Angola and DR Congo, they played with skill, courage and unity. Fans who could not attend the stadiums gathered at fan zones across cities. In one Nairobi zone fans  watching  said, “They may not win everything but they are fighting for us. That is enough.”

Reaching the quarterfinal was historic. The streets filled with expectations and excitement. Media headlines grew stronger. The match was dramatic, ninety minutes passed without a winner followed by extra time. When the game went to penalties, the tension was unbearable. A missed kick led to silence, some fans wept. Players collapsed, overcome by emotion. One player later admitted, “At that moment, I felt like I had let the whole country down.” Yet the crowd rose, applauding and singing. In defeat, the Harambee Stars received respect, admiration and love.

After elimination, questions arose about promised bonuses and support. Officials reassured the public that rewards would be honored and while some were paid immediately, others became subjects of debate in the media. For the players, however, recognition had already been received. “For the first time,” players said, “people know our names.”

Beyond the pitch, CHAN left a lasting legacy. Hosting improved infrastructure, boosted local football and gave young players role models to emulate. Football academies reported increased interest in training programs, fans spoke of inspiration and hope. Visiting supporters praised Kenya’s hospitality.They said, “Kenya welcomed us like family. This tournament felt special.”

The media praised the Stars’ effort and progress emphasizing that while they had not won the trophy, they had restored belief in Kenyan football. Analysts called it a foundation for future success. Children wore Harambee Stars jerseys to school and young girls and boys dreamed of playing for the national team. CHAN had done more than test local talent, it had reignited the nation’s love for football.

The emotional impact of CHAN extended beyond sports. It reminded Kenyans that hope, pride and unity could emerge from shared experience. The stadiums, fan zones and even homes became spaces where Kenyans celebrated together. For a country often divided by politics and social tension, football provided a rare moment of collective joy.

In the end, the Harambee Stars did not lift the African Nations Championship trophy but they achieved something equally powerful. They united a nation, reminded citizens of the beauty of local talent and inspired young players to pursue their dreams. The team gave Kenyans reason to believe in themselves and in each other once again. Football, in its simplest form, had delivered hope.

As the stadium lights went off and banners were packed away, one truth remained; sometimes victory is measured not in trophies, but in belief. And during CHAN 2024, the Harambee Stars gave Kenya a victory that could never be taken away.

By ALPHONCE OTIENO 

Second Year BA Journalism and Mass Communication, Chuka University

Kevin remembers the day clearly. It was a cool morning and he had just arrived for a job interview at an office. He had prepared well. His documents were neatly arranged in a folder and he wore a clean shirt and polished shoes. As he sat in the waiting area, he noticed people looking at him from time to time. Their eyes often paused on his hair before quickly looking away. Kevin wears dreadlocks.

For him, the hairstyle is more than a fashion choice. It is part of his identity and a way of embracing his natural hair. Yet over the years, he has learned that not everyone sees it that way.

“I’ve noticed that the first thing some people look at is my hair,” Kevin says. “Before I even say a word, it feels like they have already formed an opinion about me.”

Across many societies, hair can influence how a person is treated. In workplaces, schools and even public spaces, people with dreadlocks sometimes face judgement before they have the chance to introduce themselves. A simple hairstyle can shape first impressions in powerful ways.

Dreadlocks, however, are far from a modern trend. The hairstyle has existed for centuries in different parts of the world. In many African cultures, locked hair carried cultural or spiritual meaning. It symbolized strength, identity and connection to tradition. For example among the Maasai warriors in Kenya, dreadlocks symbolize strength, courage and a sense of community.  

Over time, dreadlocks also became closely associated with the beliefs of Rastafarianism. Followers of this faith wear dreadlocks as a symbol of spirituality, natural living and resistance to oppression. The global popularity of the hairstyle grew in the 1970s, largely through the music and message of Jamaican reggae legend Bob Marley.

Despite this rich background, stereotypes surrounding dreadlocks have remained. Some employers still view the hairstyle as unsuitable for professional environments. In some schools around the world, students have been told to cut their dreadlocks in order to follow dress codes. These situations often spark debates about identity, culture and personal freedom. Kevin says the judgement does not always come in the form of open criticism. Sometimes it appears in subtle ways.

“People ask questions that sound harmless, but you can tell what they are really thinking,” he explains. “Someone might ask, ‘Is that your real hair?’ or ‘How do you keep it clean?’ It makes you feel like you have to explain yourself.”

He also points out that maintaining dreadlocks requires effort and patience. “Many people think dreadlocks are just hair that you leave alone,” Kevin says. “But that’s not true. It actually takes time and care to keep them neat and healthy.”

For young people especially, the pressure to conform can be strong. Students with dreadlocks sometimes feel they must change their appearance to avoid attention or criticism. Some eventually cut their hair simply to fit in or to avoid trouble with school rules. Kevin remembers moments when he questioned his own decision to keep his dreadlocks.

“There was a time I thought maybe I should cut them,” he admits. “I wondered if life would be easier without them. But then I asked myself why I should change something that represents who I am.”

Instead of giving in to the pressure, Kevin chose to keep his hair and embrace it with confidence. “I realized that my hairstyle doesn’t change my abilities,” he says. “I can still work hard, succeed and be professional. My hair doesn’t stop me from doing any of that.”

In recent years, attitudes toward natural hair have slowly begun to shift. Social media has given people a space to celebrate their natural styles and challenge long-held stereotypes. Photos and personal stories shared online have helped normalize hairstyles that were once criticized.

Public figures have also contributed to the change. Athletes, musicians and professionals in different industries now wear dreadlocks proudly while excelling in their careers. Their visibility has helped reshape public perception.

Even so, the conversation about hair and identity continues. Many people believe judging someone based on their hairstyle reflects deeper cultural biases. For people of African descent especially, hair is closely tied to heritage and self-expression. Kevin believes that real change begins with understanding.

“I just want people to see beyond the hair,” he says. “Talk to me, get to know me and then decide what kind of person I am.”

Over time, he has grown more comfortable with the attention his dreadlocks sometimes bring. “Now I see it differently,” he says with a smile. “If my hair starts a conversation about culture or identity, maybe that’s not such a bad thing.”

Still, he hopes for a future where such conversations are no longer necessary. “One day I hope no one will be surprised to see dreadlocks in an office or a classroom,” Kevin says. “It should just be normal.”

As Kevin walked out of the interview building that morning, he felt hopeful. Whether or not he would get the job, he knew one thing for certain. “At the end of the day,” he says, “I want to be judged by my work and my character and not by my hair.”

And as conversations about identity and acceptance continue to grow, many believe that day may not be too far away.