Sports
Too many voices, no message Bosso’s Benjani saga exposes a PR vacuum
HIGHLANDERS did not just hire a head coach this week; it closed a chapter that has, over several uneasy days, exposed how fragile and incoherent its public relations machinery has become.
The Benjani Mwaruwari saga, which should have been a triumphant and tightly managed narrative about bringing home one of Zimbabwe’s most iconic football figures, instead unfolded as a cautionary tale of mixed messages, denials that aged badly and an institution speaking in too many voices at once.
At the heart of the issue lies a vacuum that has existed ever since Nozibelo Maphosa left the club’s public relations office. Since her departure, Bosso have lacked a designated point person — a professional custodian of the club’s message — and the consequences of that absence were laid bare for all to see.
What should have been a simple football story quickly morphed into a messy exchange of denials, counter-claims and leaked documents, none of which served the club’s interests.
The trouble began when businessman and benefactor Wicknell Chivayo publicly offered to personally pay Benjani Mwaruwari and bankroll the Highlanders squad should the club appoint him as head coach.
Rather than managing that overture quietly and strategically, Bosso found themselves reacting in real time, issuing an open letter that appeared to lecture Chivayo on how to conduct himself.
That intervention, couched in opinion rather than strategy, set the tone for what followed — a communications posture that was reactive, defensive and ultimately unsustainable.
Journalists recently reported that Highlanders’ executive had a change of heart and travelled to Harare to meet Chivayo, a meeting that allegedly involved apologising for the tone of the open letter and discussing a pathway towards Benjani’s appointment.
Reports that Bosso clumsily denied. Instead of allowing a professional communications office to respond with measured clarity, the task fell to vice chairman Fiso Siziba, who issued a firm and public denial.
Siziba rejected claims that the executive had met Chivayo, insisting that the trip to Harare was for discussions with sponsors Sakunda and Betterbrands, owned by Kuda Tagwirei and Pedzisayi “Scott” Sakupwanya, both known associates of Chivayo.
That denial was not merely a clarification; it was confrontational in nature and appeared designed to discredit Sikhumbuzo Moyo, a seasoned journalist who had reported otherwise.
In doing so, Highlanders crossed a dangerous line. When a senior official publicly challenges the credibility of the media, he commits the club to a version of events that must be watertight. Anything less invites reputational damage.
What followed confirmed the vulnerability of Bosso’s communications. Benjani was indeed appointed head coach, and confirmation came not through a controlled press release or media briefing, but via a private letter written by the club’s chief executive officer Denzil Mnkandla to Chivayo. That letter, formal in tone and explicit in content, found its way into the public domain after a screenshot leaked to the media. In one image, the entire communications house of Highlanders collapsed.
The leak sparked immediate speculation over the authenticity of the letter, forcing Chivayo himself to publish it on his own social media platforms simply to prove that it was genuine. A benefactor should never be placed in a position where he feels compelled to validate a club’s official correspondence, yet that is precisely what Bosso’s lack of strategic communication created.
The letter did not merely confirm Benjani’s appointment; it implicitly validated the very reports that had been dismissed as fiction days earlier. The damage was immediate and far reaching. Suddenly, the club looked evasive rather than principled, reactive rather than strategic. The earlier denials — and the confrontational posture that accompanied them — were rendered hollow.
This is not a trivial matter of embarrassment. It is a failure of institutional discipline. Football clubs in the modern era operate under relentless scrutiny, and information no longer moves at the pace of convenience. Screenshots circulate instantly. Private messages become public documents in seconds. In such an environment, strategic communication is not optional; it is foundational.
Highlanders’ predicament underscores a broader truth: a football club cannot allow elected officials or administrators, however well intentioned, to function as ad hoc spokespersons. Governance and communication are separate competencies. When those lines blur, the result is inconsistency, contradiction and reputational harm. The Benjani saga demonstrated that Bosso are currently operating without a clear communications hierarchy, with too many individuals empowered — either formally or informally — to speak on behalf of the institution.
Instead of delivering one coherent message, the club offered several. Instead of protecting confidentiality, it allowed internal correspondence to leak. Instead of controlling timing, it reacted to external pressure. Each of these failures compounds the next.
What makes this episode more troubling is that it overshadowed what should have been a universally positive development. Benjani’s appointment is significant. He is a national icon, a former English Premier League striker and a figure capable of inspiring players and supporters alike. That storyline should have dominated headlines for the right reasons. Instead, it became the final twist in an avoidable communications drama.
Highlanders remain one of Zimbabwe’s most emotive institutions, a club sustained as much by its symbolic weight as by results on the pitch. That emotional capital, however, cannot continue to absorb repeated lapses in professionalism. Fans notice. Sponsors notice. Journalists notice. Silence, denial and contradiction erode trust incrementally, but relentlessly.
The solution is neither complicated nor radical. Bosso need a comprehensive overhaul of their public relations department and the urgent appointment of a single, qualified spokesperson empowered to speak for the club. One voice. One message. One clear chain of accountability. That person must manage crises, co-ordinate announcements, brief executives and handle media relations with professionalism rather than defensiveness.
Equally important, the club must recognise that journalism is not antagonism. Reporters merely reflect what unfolds behind closed doors, and when clubs fail to manage information, the disorder becomes the story.
Confronting journalists instead of confronting internal weaknesses is a strategic error that Bosso can no longer afford.
The Benjani saga has ended, but it has left a cautionary residue. Highlanders got the football decision right in the end.
Now they must get the communication right too. Until they do, every major decision will remain vulnerable to the same cycle of confusion, denial and exposure — a cycle that diminishes the club and distracts from its true business: football. Source: Chronicle
