By STANLEY ONUCHUKWU
Last Saturday night at the ECWA Staff Viewing Centre in Jos, hundreds packed the hall from early evening.
The air was thick with hope, the smell of suya and pure water and the sound of generators roaring before kick-off. Green-white-green jerseys were everywhere.
Children sat on plastic chairs, elders in front, phones charging in every corner. This was more than a viewing centre; it felt like a national chapel.
When Frank Onyeka’s shot looped in off a deflection in the 3rd minute, the place detonated. People leapt from their seats. Strangers bear-hugged.
One woman broke into loud thanksgiving in tongues while dancing between the benches. Cold minerals started flowing like it was Christmas.
Thirty-two minutes in, Meschak Elia scored for DR Congo, and the joy vanished instantly. You could literally hear the silence drop.
Someone behind me whispered, “Ah, this people don start again.” Extra time was pure suffering.
We stood the entire period, clapping till our palms hurt, shouting instructions at the TV as if the players could hear us through the screen. Every missed chance drew loud groans.
When Stanley Nwabali pushed Mbemba’s header away, the whole centre erupted again, thinking salvation had come.
Then came the penalties. Semi Ajayi’s kick was saved… dead silence. The next miss… heavier silence.
When Chancel Mbemba buried the winner, the generator man simply switched off the machine and walked out into the night.
No one complained.Grown men just dropped their heads. One young boy started crying beside his father.
The elderly woman who sells moi-moi outside sat on the bare floor and stared at the blank screen for minutes. People sat in the darkness for almost half an hour. Nobody rushed to leave.
Outside, the cold Jos harmattan breeze blew, but inside, the pain was heavier than any weather. That was the scene last Saturday night at ECWA Staff Viewing Centre, Jos.
From the messages flooding WhatsApp, the same story repeated in viewing centres from Kano to Calabar, from Benin to Maiduguri. For the second straight World Cup cycle, Africa’s most populous nation will not be at the finals.
The hurt is still raw.
The flags are down.
The vuvuzelas are silent.
Football gave us hope yesterday.
Today, it feels like it took something away.