Togolese football fans in the capital Lomé are resigned to their team missing the African Nations Cup. There is no one to talk to at the headquarters of the Togolese Football Federation, a large office building in the shadow of the Chinese-built Kégué Stadium. Outside, gospel music blares out of a record shop.

"You see, they’re all tired. They just came back very early this morning," says a secretary at the federation headquarters, "no, nothing will be happening today. Everyone is just tired. Come back tomorrow," he says. Which means that nothing will happen tomorrow either.

Sense of ambiguity
The newsstand nearby is much busier. A few people are reading the papers and many more stand around discussing the return, at 3 o'clock on Monday morning, of the national football team, Les Éperviers (the Sparrow Hawks). They watched the carefully choreographed descent of their heroes from the presidential plane: undisputed star and foot virtuoso Emmanuel Adebayor led his men in a slow march down the steps that showed the required mix of disappointment at their return and respect for their slain comrades.

Modeste Zida is among the noisy crowd at the newsstand. He says that it is, of course, a shame that the players have returned. "But after all is said and done, we are happy that they are back." Still, his answer to the next question reflects the same ambiguity shown by the footballers when they came off the plane: "Well, it would have been better if they had stayed in Angola but then our president intervened and asked them to come back. So it’s out of their hands."

It was indeed a presidential phone call, very late on Sunday night, and the assurance that the presidential plane was already on the way to Cabinda-city that swayed the players to return to Togo. It is a decision that in the end has hardly been disputed. "No. They should not have stayed in Angola," says Séry Lokassivi, who works as a receptionist at a large hotel. "You have seen the families in distress, crying…I agree with the government that the team should have come home. Out of respect but also for security reasons."

Security
Ah yes, security. So highly promoted by the Angolan authorities and so brutally shot to pieces by the little known rebels of the FLEC, the Front for the Liberation of the Enclave of Cabinda. Which has led to two main questions, here in Lomé. Why were the Togolese footballers travelling in badly protected buses through an area where there has been conflict for decades? In other words: why were they not flown straight to Cabinda-city, the match venue? And the second question: why are any matches being held in Cabinda at all?

Answers to those questions are not easy to come by in Lomé. The Confederation of African Football, CAF, claims that according to their rules all teams are supposed to travel by plane. So who took the decision to let them travel by bus? The players are attending a closed meeting this afternoon at the very luxurious Sarakawa Hotel, on the beach. Will there be a press moment today, some kind of a statement? "No," says Hubert Velud, one of the technical directors, "we are waiting for the Togolese Football Federation…" Who will say: come back tomorrow…

 

"Don’t waste your time," advises Diffa, a sports journalist, who was at the airport to film the arrival of the Sparrow Hawks. "They won’t talk here. Wait until Adebayor gets back to England. Then he’ll talk."

Why Cabinda?
And what about the decision to let Cabinda host part of the tournament? That has everything to do with Angolan stubbornness. They wanted to show to the world that Cabinda is theirs, that the province is peaceful – even though it is the most heavily militarised zone on earth – and that you can hold major sports events there. And a few dead Togolese? "That doesn’t seem to be their problem," says Mr Lokassivi.

Next door to the hotel is one arm of a big lagoon. A palm tree-lined boulevard runs along it and one savvy entrepreneur has decided to set up a bar there. Prices are less than half those of the upmarket hotel and the clientele is local.

But at the time of the match Togo vs Ghana – it’s all quiet and empty. "I don’t even care what’s on tv," says one straggler. "We are all Togolese, we are in mourning. Let them have their football."

He will not miss much. Instead of the match, Togolese TV broadcasts endless reruns of a number of photos taken immediately after the attack in Cabinda, the arrival of the team, interspersed with interminable discussions. Nothing interesting – and so the crowds have voted with their feet and have stayed home. Beside the lagoon, all is quiet. A warm wind blows in from the ocean. A few people stroll past and well before midnight the bar owner decides to call it a day…