Who let the lions out? CHAN 2024 kicks off with a wink and a whistle

TANZANIA: East Africa is hosting what might be the most unpredictable football tournament of the year, and no one is entirely sure how we got here.

CHAN 2024, with 19 nations congregated to what feels like a party someone mentioned in passing, only for it to explode into a full-blown festival of football, sweat, excuses and goats.

Kenya, Tanzania and Uganda – three neighbours more familiar with avocado debates than co-hosting duties – have come together to offer a stage for locally based players.

No European imports, no global stars. Just homegrown talent, tactical socks and the dreams of nations tightly packed into stadiums buzzing with vuvuzelas, bodabodas and, in some cases, unpredict able plumbing.

This isn’t just football. It’s group therapy, a social experiment and a test of emotional stamina for both players and fans.

It’s a rehearsal dinner for the upcoming AFCON 2027, but with less planning and a lot more shouting.

If football had a family WhatsApp group, this tournament would be it – over crowded, dramatic, occasion ally inspiring and filled with cousins you didn’t realise were this competitive.

The draw for the group stages looks more like a challenge than a plan.

In Group A, Kenya has been handed a baptism of fire: Morocco, DR Congo, Angola and Zambia. It’s not so much a group as a polite ambush.

Morocco believes football is part of their divine right. DR Congo brings the kind of chaos only a team steeped in history and mood swings can offer.

Angola plays like a street brawl dressed in jerseys. And Zambia? They don’t blink—they just run.

For Kenya, playing at home is meant to be an advantage, but unless the pitch itself starts defending, this is going to be a bumpy ride.

The biggest home edge might be Nairobi traffic; if Morocco’s team bus gets caught on Thika Road for two hours, Harambee Stars might just snatch a point.

Over in Group B, the stage shifts to Dar es Salaam, where the air is thick with both humidity and anticipation.

Tanzania finds itself hosting a group that defies logic.

Madagascar, who shocked everyone at AFCON 2019, bring a unique blend of flair and unpredictability.

One day they’ll beat a powerhouse, the next they’ll lose to a team that doesn’t own matching socks.

Mauritania is the wild card team that swings wildly between glory and ghosting.

Burkina Faso, as always, will quietly arrive, go unnoticed, and then suddenly score an outrageous volley while the other team is still tying their laces.

The Central African Republic? No one knows. Which is exactly why they’re threatening.

With little expectation and even less pressure, they might just steal points while the others are still trying to find their hotel keys.

Kampala plays host to Group C, and the noise will be impossible to ignore.

Uganda’s Cranes will be nesting with Algeria, South Africa, Guinea, and Niger. It’s a group built for fire works.

Uganda, eager to prove a point on home soil, will be carried by fans who would chant during water breaks if allowed.

Algeria will arrive like an organised thunderstorm – loud, fast, and overwhelming.

Their supporters will out number the instructions on a shampoo bottle and drown out even the most confident referee.

Guinea is the kind of team that plays like they’re auditioning for something more glamorous – silky touches, audacious turns, and a complete disregard for caution.

Niger? They’ll defend like it’s a national policy. You might not enjoy watching them, but you’ll respect their ability to make even a throw in feel like a strategic stand still.

Then there’s South Africa – a side with more swagger than points.

They’ll start strong, pass beautifully, hit the post twice, and then blame something abstract like hotel pillow alignment or emotional alignment with Mercury.

Then there’s Group D, which looks like a final in disguise.

Defending champions Senegal are joined by Nigeria, Congo and Sudan.

If Group A is a storm, this is a knife fight.

Senegal remains efficient, disciplined, and devastatingly quick—lethal in attack and humble enough to act like they’re just happy to be here.

Nigeria, on the other hand, arrives with the weight of a continent’s expectations.

They’ll want to win every thing: matches, coin tosses, even stadium naming rights.

Congo? Expect 48 fouls, three arguments with the referee, and one unbelievable long-range screamer.

Sudan brings quiet confidence – no theatrics, just sharp play and clean finishes.

Every match in this group will feel like a knock out round, and nobody will emerge unbruised.

Fixtures kicked off as we were going to press (yesterday) with Tanzania vs. Burkina Faso, a clash that promises sweat, rhythm, and possibly a goat or two running onto the pitch.

Today, Nairobi erupts with Kenya facing DR Congo – a match so emotionally loaded that even vendors might for get to overprice water.

On the same evening, Morocco meets Angola in a matchup of elegance versus elbows.

Meanwhile, Madagascar and Mauritania go head-to head in Dar, in what might be a six-goal thriller, or a goalless dance-off of confusion and misplaced ambition.

By tomorrow, Kampala gets its turn, with Uganda facing Algeria in what promises to be a battle of decibels.

The Cranes will try to out sing the Desert Foxes, while on the same day, Niger and Guinea will produce a match so tactical, even chess fans might tune in.

As the tournament winds toward its climax, we’ll see tears, memes, and at least one minister promising reforms they won’t remember a week later.

The third-place play off lands on 29 August in Kampala.

It’ll be tense, unglamorous, and filled with players pretending to be thrilled about a bronze medal.

The final, hosted in Nairobi the next day, will hopefully take place on a pitch not recently used for a gospel revival.

Yet, beyond the goals, bookings and barroom analysis, the heart of CHAN lies in the fans.

They are the soul, the soundtrack and occasionally the security problem.

Kenyan fans have been sharpening their shouting since 2004.

Tanzanians will bring their musical genius and unmatched energy, singing full verses about a linesman’s haircut if provoked.

Ugandans will dance, chant, and somehow smuggle in matoke with impressive tactical stealth.

Then there are the travel ling supporters.

Algerians who can chant louder than train horns, Nigerians who arrive dressed for church, wedding and battle all at once.

And, well, Senegalese fans whose drumming could sum mon weather changes.

The coaches? They’ll all arrive with plans. Lovely, laminated plans. By match two, those plans will be shredded into confetti.

Every post-match inter view will be a variation of the same script: “We played well, but luck wasn’t with us.” “We’re building for the future.” “The referee should be arrested, gently.”

Some will blame the pitch. Others, travel fatigue. A few might blame lunar patterns or spiritual interference.

What they won’t blame, under any circumstances, is their own tactics. That’s an unspoken rule in African foot ball.

And as for who might lift the trophy?

Senegal has form. Algeria has force. DR Congo has history. Nigeria has noise. Tanzania are hosts, as are Kenya and Uganda.

But CHAN doesn’t follow logic.

It thrives on disorder, upsets, and poetic justice. This is where underdogs bite.

Where unknown strikers become cult heroes. Where one rash tackle can rewrite a group’s destiny.

For Kenya, Tanzania, and Uganda, the mission is modest but vital: don’t get embarrassed at home.

A 3-0 drubbing in front of local dignitaries and an impatient crowd can have lasting consequences.

That is, resignations, public apologies, and former players suddenly popping up with strong opinions and dodgy verbal takes.

Lose badly, and your coach might resurface as a motivational speaker or real estate agent.

CHAN 2024 for sure will be messy, moving, musical and maddening.

It will test the patience of fans, the nerves of coaches, and the quality of livestreams.

It’s not just football. It’s a region proving that, even amid logistical nightmares and budget cuts, passion can still fill a stadium.

ALSO READ: CHAN 2024:Tanzania aims high on, off the pitch

So here we are. One month. 19 teams. Three nations. Thousands of voices. Hundreds of goats. An alarming number of excuses already prepared.

Whether you’re in Nairobi, Dar es Salaam, Kampala, or watching from a shisha lounge in Zanzibar, CHAN 2024 will give you something to laugh at, shout about, or cry over.

And if we’re lucky, maybe even a few good goals.