The rise and fall of Tanzania’s badminton: Can the shuttlecock soar again?

TANZANIA: ONCE upon a time, in the land of Tanzanians who were really good at swatting things with rackets, there existed a thriving badminton community that made international headlines.

It was the kind of sports scene that made you proud to wave your national flag—if only there was still a badminton scene left to wave it at.

Yes, badminton.

That sport where athletes dive, leap and do backflips (okay, maybe not the backflips) all while keeping their eyes glued to a feathered shuttlecock, as if it held the meaning of life.

But for Tanzania, what was once a promising venture into the world of badminton has become a bit of a sad story, like the last slice of cake that nobody wants to eat.

Ah, the 1970s and 1980s. Tanzania was doing big things. We’re talking gold medals, silver linings, and a whole lot of pride.

At one point, we were as competitive as the best of them in African badminton—second place in the African Badminton Championships in 1979 and a glorious gold medal on home soil in 1984.

They were the kind of moments you’d frame and hang on the wall, if the wall didn’t have other sports memorabilia like football jerseys and basketballs that were much more in fashion at the time.

And then there was the women’s team, who didn’t just sit on the sidelines (we all know that’s not a winning strategy), but instead managed to scoop up the gold in 1979 and silver in 1984.

Zanzibar’s finest, Mohamed, Nasra and Mselem Juma, made sure their names were synonymous with victory. Their performances were so good, you’d think they had secret training sessions in a magical badminton land.

Tanzania was one of the seven founding nations of the Badminton Confederation of Africa, so we were officially in the club.

Not bad for a country that had just shaken off the colonial dust and was now swinging rackets instead of shackles.

If badminton were a country, Tanzania would have been that charismatic leader everyone wanted to follow.

So, what happened? Was there a national blackout? Did we all decide that chasing a shuttlecock was overrated?

Well, let’s fast-forward to the 1990s.

Now, the 90s were great for music (hello, Spice Girls) and fashion (don’t ask), but not so great for Tanzanian badminton.

Despite having solid players, the lack of funding turned the team into something resembling a one-hit wonder.

No money meant no international tournaments, which is kind of a big deal when your entire sport relies on, you know, international tournaments.

And so, the national team became like that old gym you pass every day but never actually enter—forgotten, dusty and full of memories that could make you cry.

Players drifted away, and new talent had nowhere to develop.

You know that one guy who used to show up to every event and claim he was “about to win big” but never did? That’s Tanzania in the badminton world right now.

Ah, football—the undying love of Tanzania.

We’ve all seen the massive football crowds, the screams, the shouts, the never-ending praise for every player who somehow manages to not trip over their own feet.

In comparison, badminton looks like the introvert kid at the back of the class. Sure, it has some cool moves, but it’s just not the social butterfly.

Tanzania’s football obsession means that badminton’s sparkle faded faster than a kid’s interest in their homework.

Badminton was left in the corner of a dusty gymnasium, along with forgotten volleyball nets and a bunch of unused yoga mats.

And let’s be honest, no one’s picking up a badminton racket unless it’s part of some weird New Year’s resolution.

The Tanzania Badminton Association, bless their hearts, tried. They really did.

Regional tournaments like the Nyerere Badminton Championships and the Dar Cup were organised with the fervour of a coach trying to make his players care about team spirit.

It was like trying to revive a long-lost love by sending text messages every month: “Hey, remember us? We used to be cool!”

But alas, the shuttlecock had lost its flight, and the enthusiasm just wasn’t there.

The regional events, though noble in their attempt, were like trying to keep a fire alive with a single matchstick while the wind howled around you.

The sport lacked the resources, the media coverage, and the young players to reignite the flames.

By 2022, the national badminton team wasn’t just inactive; it was practically a ghost in the sport world. No one was talking about it.

The once-proud moments were reduced to dusty trophies on a shelf somewhere, just waiting for someone to remember their significance.

Tanzania’s badminton legacy, once so full of promise, seemed to have vanished into the ether like a forgotten mchakamchaka song.

Now, the sport isn’t even a blip on most people’s radar.

If you asked the average Tanzanian about badminton, they’d probably stare at you like you asked them about cricket (which, let’s face it, is probably a distant second to badminton on the “sporting interest scale” in Tanzania).

But wait, all hope is not lost. In every forgotten corner of Dar es Salaam, there are still pockets of people playing.

Yes, believe it or not, the sport isn’t entirely dead.

Young people in communities are still organising small tournaments, picking up rackets and swatting shuttlecocks in places that aren’t quite as glamorous as the grand courts of international arenas—but hey, it’s a start.

These grassroots efforts are the faint flickers of a dying flame.

With some luck, a little investment and maybe a community that gets passionate about something other than football (I know, it’s a tough sell), we might see a resurgence.

Imagine this: local tournaments gradually gain momentum, more kids pick up the sport in school and suddenly, Tanzania is back in the African Badminton Championships.

We might even win a medal, and the crowd could go wild—well, at least mildly enthusiastic. Let’s not get too carried away.

Here’s the thing, though: Tanzania’s badminton story doesn’t have to end in dust. It could take a turn for the better.

First, we need recognition. Not just from the government, but from the people who can truly make a difference: local communities.

You see, while the government might not see badminton as a major priority (football’s got all the attention), the local clubs, schools, and even you— yes, you are reading this—can play a part.

Imagine schools holding badminton tournaments instead of just soccer matches. Picture parents encouraging their kids to pick up a racket instead of another football.

If we all chip in, maybe, just maybe, badminton can get a seat at the table.

We might even get to the point where, just like football, we have players who travel internationally, show up with confidence, and maybe, just maybe, win something.

Let’s get a coach, throw some cash into the sport, and maybe even show it some love on social media. Start a #BadmintonIsBack movement.

Who knows, one day we could be watching Tanzanian Players on the Olympic stage, chasing shuttlecocks like nobody’s business.

Badminton may have fallen asleep for now, but it’s not beyond saving.

With some care, attention, and a whole lot of love (and maybe a few energy drinks), it could bounce back like a shuttlecock in full flight.

After all, isn’t it just a little embarrassing that we let something so graceful, yet fastpaced, drift into obscurity?

Let’s pick up those rackets again and show the world that Tanzania can do more than just football.

And remember, in the world of badminton, every setback is just another chance to smash that shuttlecock right back into the game.

So, grab your rackets, folks—it’s time to give Tanzania’s badminton a shot at redemption.