By Lemmy Ughegbe, Ph.D
On paper, the opening fixture of the 2026 FIFA World Cup between Mexico and South Africa was simply that, an opening fixture. But for many Nigerians and other Africans watching from across the continent, it became something else entirely.
Long before kick-off, social media told an unusual story. Across Nigeria and beyond, Africans openly declared their support for Mexico. Some adopted Mexico as their team for ninety minutes. Others celebrated every Mexican attack with the passion usually reserved for their own national or continental sides.
To anyone unfamiliar with the backstory, the spectacle seemed strange. Why would Africans root against an African nation? The answer had nothing to do with Football and everything to do with memory.
For years, South Africa has perpetuated waves of xenophobic violence directed at fellow Africans. Nigerians, Zimbabweans, Mozambicans, Somalis, Malawians and others have been attacked, killed, displaced and driven from communities they had built their lives in. Businesses were looted. Lives were lost. Families were shattered.
What makes this especially painful is the history behind it. South Africa’s liberation struggle drew support from across the continent. Nigeria committed enormous diplomatic and financial resources to the anti-apartheid movement.
Other African countries opened their doors to South African exiles, often at considerable cost, because they believed the struggle for South Africa’s freedom belonged to all of Africa.
Decades later, many Africans have struggled to reconcile that history with images of fellow Africans being hunted and humiliated on South African streets.
Memory does not fade easily. Football is often celebrated as a force that brings people together, regardless of politics or history. On this occasion, however, memory proved stronger. Lived experiences overpowered the unifying pull of the sport, and what should have been a routine football match became something akin to a referendum on memory.
What surfaced during the Mexico-South Africa encounter was not hostility towards South Africa as a country. Rather, it was the expression of unresolved grievances, accumulated disappointments and a lingering sense of injustice.
For many Africans, memories of attacks on fellow Africans carried greater emotional weight than the rhetoric of continental solidarity.
What should have been a celebration of African unity became an uncomfortable reminder that brotherhood cannot simply be proclaimed. It must be practised.
None of this is a denial of South Africa’s sovereign right, like every nation, to control its borders, regulate immigration and expect those living and working within its territory to obey the law. Nobody should object to the lawful prosecution, deportation or punishment of those who violate immigration laws or commit crimes.
It would also be dishonest to pretend that some migrants, including some Nigerians, have not contributed to South Africa’s crime challenges. Internet fraud, vehicle theft, drug trafficking and other criminal activities by foreign nationals deserve the strongest condemnation. Those responsible should be investigated, prosecuted and punished in accordance with the law.
But that is precisely the point. Civilised societies punish criminals. They do not criminalise entire nationalities.
The overwhelming majority of Nigerians and other African migrants in South Africa are hardworking and law-abiding people. They are professionals, entrepreneurs, academics, healthcare workers, artisans, traders and investors who have contributed to the country’s economy and society. They have created jobs, paid taxes and helped build the prosperity of the country they now call home.
It would therefore be unjust to make entire communities answer for the crimes of a few simply because they share the same nationality.
The real grievance lies in the tendency for individual guilt to become collective blame, for due process to give way to mob violence and for criminals to become indistinguishable from entire nationalities in the public imagination.
The issue has never been whether South Africa should enforce its laws. Of course it should. The issue is whether the rule of law should ever give way to machetes, guns and the dangerous temptation to treat whole nationalities as criminals.
No nation should be judged solely by the actions of its worst elements, and not every South African harbours xenophobic sentiments.
At the same time, it would be dishonest to ignore the widespread perception among many Africans that official responses to repeated attacks on migrants have too often been slow, hesitant and lacking the urgency such violence demands.
This perception has found expression even within South Africa itself. Julius Malema, leader of the Economic Freedom Fighters, recently described attacks on migrants as effectively state-sponsored, arguing that police and other institutions have repeatedly failed to intervene while mobs turned on foreign nationals.
Whatever one thinks of Malema’s politics, the charge resonates because it echoes scenes many Africans have witnessed, images of law enforcement officers standing by while businesses were looted and migrants assaulted.
Equally troubling has been the perception that political leaders have often spoken too late and with insufficient conviction, leaving victims with the impression that their suffering mattered less than domestic political sensitivities. Silence and hesitation, intentional or otherwise, can easily be interpreted as acquiescence.
Undoubtedly, many ordinary South Africans desire peaceful coexistence and reject violence. But the burden ultimately rests on the South African state to demonstrate, through actions rather than words, that the lives, dignity and property of fellow Africans within its borders enjoy the full protection of the law.
Anything less diminishes not only South Africa’s standing on the continent but also the ideals of African solidarity for which so many sacrificed.
Sport should never become a vehicle for old grievances. But emotions rarely follow diplomatic scripts. People carry scars. Nations carry memories. And history has a habit of resurfacing where it is least expected.
Pan-Africanism cannot survive on summit declarations and lofty speeches alone. It must manifest itself in how Africans actually treat one another, in how migrants are welcomed or rejected and in whether fellow Africans are seen as neighbours or threats. Perhaps that is the deeper lesson.
The real tragedy is not that many Africans cheered against South Africa.
The real tragedy is that so many felt they had reason to. For a continent that constantly speaks about integration and cooperation, distrust among its own people is a luxury it can no longer afford.
South Africa remains too important to Africa to be isolated, and Africa remains too interconnected for old wounds to fester indefinitely. Healing requires honesty. Reconciliation requires memory, not its erasure. And solidarity requires reciprocity.
For ninety minutes, a football match held up a mirror. And what stared back at Africa was an uncomfortable truth.
Continents, like people, cannot move forward by pretending painful history never happened. History ignored is rarely history forgotten.
Dr Lemmy Ughegbe, FIMC, CMC
lemmyughegbeofficial@gmail.com
