Austin Oduor: Our captain, my brother and Kenyan legend

 

The late Austin Oduor. [Courtesy]

Kenyan football has lost a remarkable man, a giant among men, and I have lost a piece of myself. Austin

Oduor wasn’t just Kenya’s only football captain to lift a Continental Cup, the Africa Cup Winners; he was my brother, my friend, my companion through the journeys of childhood and manhood.

As I grapple with this sudden loss, I am taken back to Ziwani, where our story began—an era filled with laughter, dreams, and the simple joy of kicking a ball around in the streets.

Growing up in the Eastlands suburb of Nairobi, we didn’t have much. But Ziwani was more than enough for us; it taught us that happiness isn’t tied to material wealth but to the bonds you form and the dreams you dare to chase. After school, we would play football in the streets, and as I look back, I realise how formative those days were.

I started a club, calling it Santa Fe, a name I borrowed from a map of the US, though I had no clue what it meant. Santa Fe played other estate teams, and even if things sometimes got a bit rough, our hearts were in the game. We were just boys, driven by an insatiable love for football, unbothered by the troubles that often came with being kids in Eastlands.

Austin, Chao, Davie, and I—our lives revolved around the field. We had dreams beyond the streets of Ziwani, yet we never thought we’d achieve the heights we eventually did. Austin was special even back then. His ambition, focus, and dedication set him apart.

We all worked hard, but he had that spark—something that told you he was destined for greatness. I still remember the day I recommended him to Gor Mahia, convinced that his talent and leadership were something they couldn’t pass up.

And as fate would have it, Austin went on to do what no other Kenyan had done before; he led Gor Mahia to the 1987 Nelson Mandela Africa Cup Winners Cup, a feat that etched his name in the annals of Kenyan football history.

Austin’s journey wasn’t just about football, though. Our bond went beyond the field; we were brothers in life. We roomed together, shared stories, and leaned on each other as we navigated the challenges of our youth. In a world that often tried to pull us down, we found strength in each other.

Austin, Chao, and I took our paths seriously. We stayed clear of the pitfalls—alcohol, smoking and anything that would distract us from our dreams. Today, my heart is broken. I am taken back to the days of my child and boyhood and I cry for my lost friend. 

We grew up knowing that, though we came from little, we were rich in love, respect, and hope. My own career took its path, thanks to coaches and friends who believed in me, and Austin was always by my side.

Even when our club, Umeme, didn’t make it to the Super League, we found success and recognition elsewhere. I went on to play for Luo Union and, eventually, Gor Mahia, where Austin and I shared not just the game but our dreams. 

Austin’s passing reminds me of the fleeting nature of life, but his legacy will live on. He showed us what it means to be dedicated, resilient, and humble. His story will remain a beacon for generations, a testament to the power of friendship, family, and community.

The writer was a Harambee Stars player