In 2001, Kenya Rugby Union appointed ex-internationals Ken Thimba as the Kenya XVs coach and Tom Odundo the assistant.
There were grumbles in certain quarters over these appointments. The duo were also coaching top Kenya Cup side Kenya Harlequins, and for those who understand the politics of Kenyan rugby, there was a feeling shared outside the “home” of the game in the country that Ngong Road-based clubs (read Kenya Harlequins, Impala and Nondescripts) would be favoured in player selection at the expense of other clubs.
In the provisional squad named for the 2003 Rugby World Cup qualifiers, the two coaches picked a young Benjamin Ayimba, aged 24, as the Kenya Simbas captain. The hard-running, hard-hitting flanker was then playing for Impala.I was called up too. That year I had moved to Quins from KCB.
But the beauty of rugby in Kenya at the national level, at least in my time, is that once you are called up as a player, you forget about your club affiliation, and become a Simba to the bone.
We quickly formed a bond, glued together by our realistic acceptance of our amateur status and accompanying challenges that only those who loved the game found it worthy to persevere.
The training times devised by Thimba, whom we fondly referred to as “KT” exacerbated our troubles.
KT, in his wisdom, decided that since more than half his squad was composed of working persons who played rugby part-time, the three-hour, twice-a-week training sessions would start at 6pm.
And since Rugby Football Union of East Africa grounds along Ngong Road, the traditional home training venue for Kenya, did not have floodlights, the union made arrangements for players to simply stroll to the neighbouring Impala Club that had acceptable night training facilities.
We would train until about 9pm and rush back to RFUEA grounds for a quick shower – if there was time, before dashing to the bus stop to – hopefully -- catch one of the last buses to town.
The few players who had personal cars and those who scrounged for lifts from them, were spared this routine.
Never once did I hear our captain complain about our training conditions, which were quite frankly, unacceptable. The union could have, for instance, simply hired some form of transport for the team.
We had no medical cover. We individually organised our own fluids and foods. It was tough going, but we soldiered on, humbled to be Kenya team players with lofty dreams of representing the nation at the World Cup.
But after several weeks of training without allowances some of the senior players got us all together and we agreed we would boycott training and not travel to Antananarivo for our first Round Two qualifying match against Madagascar unless we were paid.
Ayimba, as captain, was in the meeting, and I remember him agreeing with the general sentiments of the players.
“They have to give us our lagwash (allowance) but we will play this qualifier. You guys do not worry, they will have to pay us,” he said calmly, his demeanor leaving us with little doubt he was one of us.
How Ayimba presented our demands I never found out, but at our next training session we were paid our outstanding allowances.
What a captain I thought then. We fondly called him “Benja” (pronouncing the name, Beenja). On the field, as young as he was, he was even more inspiring, practically leading by example in tackling, ball-carrying and rallying the team forward.
I first played against Ayimba around 1996, him a rising rookie just out of secondary school at Impala Club and I, recently out of campus, establishing myself at KCB Rugby.
However, we got to hang out, like only rugby boys do in that 2001 World Cup qualifier tour in the Malagasy capital where I got to discover, much to my surprise, that the jovial bruiser was actually a teetotaler. One of the very, very few rugby players I have met who never engaged in the tipple.
But a rugger player he was. As a boy growing up in Karanja Road Estate, Kibera, in the 1980s, he never fitted in well with his chums because of his rough tendencies. It did not help that he was big for his age.
In an earlier interview I did with him for the Nation more than a decade ago he said that on his very first day on the rugby pitch, while going through a tackle session, an older boy violently picked him up like a sack of potatoes and proceeded to unceremoniously dump him on the ground.
It was a painful experience. Ayimba wanted to do the same thing to every opponent he henceforth met on the pitch.
Many met the steamroller. Playing for Quins against Nondescripts in a 2002 Kenya Cup fixture at RFUEA ground I joined the line on the open side in a fullback switch move that had regularly spliced open opposition defences to devastating effect only to meet a sweeping Ayimba who proceeded to flatten me to the ground.
“You alright,” he gently patted my back at the Quins bar counter after the match, genuine concern in his eyes. He was that kind of guy. And, oh, we had beaten them in the game.
Ayimba also played professional rugby briefly with Penzance and Newlyne Pirates of Cornwall, England.
He holds the exceptional distinction of captaining Kenya XV and Kenya Sevens, and later coaching both teams.
At the time of his death last Friday, he was the Kenya Harlequin forwards’ coach. A true servant of the game. Fare thee well champion.
