East Africa belatedly discovers, football has rules even outside pitch

TANZANIA: FOR generations, East Africa football fans have believed, with the certainty of a grandmother refusing to change her ugali recipe, that football is governed by exactly seventeen rules.

Those seventeen, written in the holy book of FIFA’s Laws of the Game, deal with a number of essential things.

That is, don’t use your hands unless you’re the goalkeeper, no tackling people’s knees from behind and the ball is not, in fact, in play when it’s rolling down the road towards the chips stand.

Everything else? That was for the television commentators to argue about, for players to interpret creatively.

Or for the fans to ignore entirely while perfecting the fine art of shouting tactical advice at strikers who couldn’t possibly hear them over the noise of the vuvuzelas.

And then came CHAN 2024.

Not the football on the pitch. That’s been the same delicious recipe we’ve always had: big tackles, bigger goals and the occasional referee sprinting like his match fee depends on it.

No, the real drama this time has unfolded in the strange, air-conditioned rooms of the so-called CAF’s Disciplinary Board.

A place most East African fans didn’t even know existed until about two weeks ago.

I mean, we’ve always known CAF for what matters: trophies, fixtures, the anthems before kick-off.

But now, we are discovering kumbe they have another side.

The one that wears a suit, carries a folder and talks about “Articles 82 and 83 of the CAF Disciplinary Code” like it’s a Netflix drama.

This other CAF doesn’t care how many goals you scored; all that they care about is “perimeter control” and “road closures on match days.”

You see, CAF has decided to spoil the party.

At least, that’s how it feels to the Gen Z football crowd, the ones who consider a bit of police crowd-control water and a lungful of tear gas as part of the full stadium experience.

The first East African to feel the chill wind of CAF’s off-the-pitch justice was us. Yes, us. Tanzania. Bongoland!

Our offence? Not losing a match – ops! Sorry, not that (smiles), but for having fans in the stands misbehave against Burkina Faso.

That’s right: misbehave. No one’s entirely sure if CAF’s definition includes singing too loudly, especially when a Simba or Yanga player touches the ball, or slots one or two home.

They slapped us with a 10,000 US dollars fine for breaching Safety and Security obligations.

Ten thousand dollars!

For context, that’s roughly enough to replace every net in the Tanzanian league twice over and still have change for some decent corner flags.

But Tanzania’s case was just the opening act.

Then came Kenya, the other hosts of the CHAN 2024 edition, and, it turns out, the ultimate test of CAF’s patience.

In their opening match against DR Congo, the atmosphere was electric. So electric, in fact, that some fans decided the ticket queue was an optional suggestion.

At Gate 11, a stampede erupted.

Elsewhere, people wandered into VIP areas they had no business being in, someone brought a motorcycle through the crowd (as you do), fires were lit behind the stands.

And a South African CAF security officer found his access to the VVIP area blocked like a stubborn central defender.

CAF was not amused. Fine: 5,000 US dollars for the stampede, 10,000 US dollars for assaulting CAF personnel, and a stern warning for the fires.

If Kenya thought that was the end of it, the Angola match arrived to prove them wrong.

More ticketless fans, VIP chaos again and flares lighting up the stands.

Another fine this time about Ksh 650,000 for the VIP mess, plus Ksh 130,000 for the flares.

And then came Morocco.

Oh, Morocco….

On August 10th, Kasarani became the stage for a new level of crowd ingenuity.

Ticketless fans overpowered security, stormed the gates and poured into the stands.

CAF specifically bans tear gas at venues, but the Ge-Z demonstrations-hardened-no nonsense askaris still reached for the canisters.

Somewhere in the middle of all that, the Disciplinary Board’s fax machine must have been working overtime, because three days later, Kenya was hit with a 50,000 US dollar fine, about Ksh 6.4 million.

CAF’s warning this time was serious: keep this up and we’ll take your national team matches somewhere else.

Now, let’s just pause and appreciate the scale of this.

For Kenyan fans, the only thing more unimaginable than a Harambee Stars away loss is the idea of the home matches being played in another country.

The shock was almost as bad as a penalty miss in the 95th minute.

In the meantime, while East Africa was learning about “safety protocols” the hard way, Zambia quietly earned themselves a 5,000 US dollars fine for skipping a mandatory pre-match press conference.

No drama, no tear gas just the coach deciding, apparently, that microphones weren’t his thing.

Morocco also got a 5,000 US dollars fine for “inappropriate conduct of players,” half of which is suspended if they behave until the end of the tournament.

Which means, in CAF language, “we’ll let you off lightly this time, but don’t make us come over there.”

Here’s the thing: none of this is really new to CAF.

They’ve had these Safety and Security Regulations for years Articles 15, 31, 32, 43 and so on.

The difference is that East African fans have only just been introduced to them.

For decades, we believed the only people with responsibilities at a football match were the players, the referee and the guy selling roasted maize outside the gate.

Now we’re discovering that we, the fans, are part of a bigger system.

And that if we break the rules, the federation gets fined more money than some clubs spend on transfers in a season. And that’s the funniest part.

Imagine trying to explain to a die-hard fan who’s been going to matches since the 1980s that they can’t light a fire behind the stands “because of CAF regulations.”

The Gen Z fans are taking it all in stride.

For them, a bit of chaos is part of the brand. They treat tear gas like a free smoke machine, water cannons like a half-time shower.

And now CAF wants to take that away?

No wonder the Local Organising Committee is pleading for everyone to “support responsibly.”

Some older heads in football circles have said – quite seriously – that there needs to be a fan education programme before the next big tournament in 2027.

Multiple seminars, workshops, maybe even pamphlets: “Your Guide to Not Getting Your Federation Fined.”

Because, as one veteran organiser put it, “You can’t tell fans on match day that there’s no jumping over the gate. You have to teach them months in advance.”

In truth, it’s not that fans are deliberately trying to get CAF’s lawyers excited. It’s that the idea of off-the-pitch rules feels alien.

Football has always been about passion. Passion doesn’t fit neatly into numbered articles and safety codes.

Still, CAF has a point. Hosting international matches means meeting international standards.

Those standards say you can’t have motorcycles weaving through crowds or let fires burn in the stands like it’s a village festival.

And, as the relocation threat makes clear, they’re not afraid to enforce it.

The thing is, the way they’re doing it, dropping fines like they’re penalty kicks, has turned them into unlikely comedians.

It’s football justice, but with the rhythm of a punchline.

The challenge for East African football now is to find a way to keep the atmosphere – the colour, the noise, the energy – without racking up fines big enough to bankrupt a federation.

That means proper gates, more security, and maybe a polite but firm conversation with the guy who thinks bringing a motorbike into the stadium is a good idea.

It also means fans need to start seeing themselves as part of the game’s bigger picture. Not just the soundtrack, but part of the system that makes sure the match can happen at all.

It won’t be easy. It might take a few more fines, a few more seminars and maybe even a couple of CAF officials touring fan zones like peace envoys.

ALSO READ: CHAN, you hear the crowd? How Kenya, Uganda are out-cheering Tanzania at its own party

But eventually, East Africa will learn that the rules don’t stop when the ball crosses the line.

Because while football will always be about those seventeen glorious rules on the pitch, the off-the-pitch regulations are here to stay.