By Takudzwa Madondo
MUTARE-In the oldest suburb of Mutare City, Sakubva’s Mawonde section, survival is often louder than ambition, talent is born daily but rarely nurtured.
The narrow streets of Sakubva carry many stories of gifted boys whose football dreams dissolve under the weight of poverty, drugs, and responsibility. Yet from one modest backyard — where traditional beer (Vinyu) brewed in large metal pots became a family’s lifeline emerged Ask Rupande, a right back who refused to become another statistic.
Today he is a regular at Manica Diamonds FC as a defender. But his journey reveals more than personal triumph. It exposes the fragile ecosystem of grassroots football in high-density suburbs where talent survives not because of systems, but by sheer nature.
Born into a polygamous family as the only boy among three children from his mother who was the second wife, Rupande’s early years were shaped by instability. Absentee father.
The responsibility of providing fell squarely on his mother, who brewed and sold traditional beer from their home.
By the age of nine, Rupande was not just a child with a ball he was part of the household economy.
“After school I would help my mother sell beer,” he once shared. “There was no option. That’s how we survived.”
On some nights, drunken customers lingered until 1am.Rupande balanced exhaustion with schoolwork and football. The noise of intoxicated patrons became the soundtrack of his childhood.
In communities like Sakubva, this reality is common. Informal trading sustains families, but it often robs children of rest and stability. Many boys in similar environments drift away from school and sport. Some never return.
Just a stone’s throw from his home, at Sakubva Primary School, respected grassroots mentor Timothy Sicho Masachi groomed young footballers. The sessions attracted older boys including his then club captain Farai Band, club teammate Lawrence Masibhera and for Rupande, they became both escape routes and education.
There was no formal academy structure for his age group. No sponsorship. No nutrition plans. No transport allowances.
Just dust, discipline and dreams.
“I would go and watch the training sessions,” he recalls. “Even if I wasn’t playing, I was learning.
Masachi’s role highlights an uncomfortable truth about Zimbabwean grassroots football, much of it depends on individual sacrifice rather than institutional support. Coaches like him operate without consistent funding, recognition or infrastructure, yet they are the first gatekeepers of professional careers.
Without proximity to that training ground, Rupande’s path might have been different.
As he grew older, Rupande joined Deportivo La Sakubva in Division Two, still under Masachi’s mentorship. Local tournaments became his audition stage. In 2018, during the Katsande Tournament at Sakubva 1 High School, opportunity arrived quietly.
Veteran coach Luke Vahombe Masomere, spotted the disciplined right back.
In 2019, Rupande signed his first professional contract.
But the transition from township football to the Premier Soccer League is rarely smooth. Contracts are modest. Careers are fragile. Injuries can erase progress overnight. And then came COVID-19.
The 2020–21 seasons stalled Zimbabwean football, cutting income streams and exposing how vulnerable many local players are when the game stops. For Rupande, the professional breakthrough he had waited for suddenly felt uncertain.
In 2021, he lost his father. In 2023, he lost his mother the woman who had brewed beer to buy his boots and pay his fees.
Her death was more than a personal loss it was the closing of a chapter written in sacrifice.
His dream now extends beyond club football. He hopes to one day make it into the national team and also join the trek down south for greener pastures.
But his story raises bigger questions:
How many Rupandes are currently selling wares to sustain families after school instead of resting?
How many talented boys are one missed opportunity away from obscurity?
Rupande’s rise is inspiring but it also highlights systemic gaps.
Grassroots football in towns like Mutare relies heavily on volunteer coaches, community tournaments and chance encounters with scouts. There is limited corporate investment, minimal psychological support, and scarce educational safety nets for young athletes.
Today, as a regular for Manica Diamonds, Rupande stands as proof that resilience can bend fate. But perhaps the greater value of his story lies not in medals or contracts — but in visibility.
In Mawonde, younger boys now see someone who made it out without abandoning his roots. They see that poverty is not destiny, though it is a powerful opponent.
