Fud Football Zambia May 2026

In the 88th minute, James won the ball—a clean, certain tackle. He passed to Lubinda, who drew three defenders. The boy didn't panic. He rolled the ball back to Emmanuel, who had ghosted into the box. No doubt. No fear. Emmanuel struck the ball with his laces. It rose like a brown missile, swerving away from the keeper’s desperate dive, and kissed the inside of the post before nestling in the net.

At halftime, the score was 1-0. The players trudged off, heads down. In the dressing room, the water was lukewarm. Someone mentioned the unpaid wages again.

They ran.

That night, the bus ride home was loud. The wages were still unpaid. The sponsor was still gone. But for ninety minutes, in the red dust of Msekera Stadium, three ghosts had been exorcised.

“Superstition,” James muttered, but he didn’t look up from his sock. fud football zambia

“The only ghost on this pitch is the one we bring in our heads.”

The FUD shifted. Now the Warriors were the ones looking at the clock. Now they were whispering about Chipata’s “miraculous” turnaround. In the 88th minute, James won the ball—a

“My father is a farmer in Mkushi,” Lubinda said, pulling his socks up. “Last year, the rains didn’t come. Fear said, ‘Don’t plant.’ Uncertainty said, ‘The seed is bad.’ Doubt said, ‘The land is cursed.’ But he planted anyway. He dug a well with his bare hands. We have maize today because he did not listen to the ghosts.”