Stanford Chiwanga, stanford.chiwanga@chronicle.co.zw
THERE is something undeniably refreshing about the way Benjani Mwaruwari has chosen to begin his Highlanders tenure. While many coaches prefer to bark instructions from the comfort of the training ground or retreat behind office doors, Benjani has adopted a decidedly English Premier League-style charm offensive — one shaped not only by tactics and formations, but by human connection, personal accountability, and a genuine investment in his players’ lives.
It is a charm offensive rooted in warmth, discipline, and respect, but also in the hard truths that have defined his journey from the dusty streets of Bulawayo to the bright lights of Manchester.
This past weekend, the former Portsmouth and Manchester City striker made a quiet but purposeful pilgrimage to Makokoba suburb, where he visited young Prince Ndlovu at his family home. Prince, talented but notorious for developing a sudden injury whenever the unforgiving demands of a Highlanders preseason loom, was found resting comfortably — too comfortably, some might say.
Yet, as tempting as it is to raise an eyebrow at the conveniently timed ailment, it must be noted that Prince is not the subject of this piece. For fairness’ sake, and out of respect for a promising young man, we will give him the benefit of the doubt.
What shaped the visit was not the condition of Prince’s ankle or knee but the condition of his ambition. Benjani reportedly sat the youngster down and reminded him what it means to wear the black and white of Bosso — what weight, history, and responsibility come with stepping onto Barbourfields Stadium turf. He spoke of hard work, of hunger, of discipline — values that carried him from Bulawayo to Europe, values that Prince would do well to embrace if he hopes to follow even half that path. To have a coach with English Premier League credentials sitting in your family’s living room, spelling out the meaning of your own jersey, is not a small thing.
Crucially, Benjani’s approach is not random; it is borrowed from the best. His style mirrors the legendary Sir Alex Ferguson, under whom home visits were not a publicity stunt but a vital management tool. Sir Alex famously built his empire at Manchester United by understanding his players beyond the pitch — showing up at their homes, talking to their parents, and forging personal bonds that turned ordinary squads into dynasties. Benjani appears to have taken a page straight out of that book. He has realised that Highlanders’ revival cannot be achieved through tactics alone; it demands a restoration of culture, presence, and the kind of leadership that takes time to sit with a family and say, “Your son can be better, and I will help him get there.”
Still in Makokoba, Benjani moved on to meet another young Bosso player, Mvelo Khoza. And it was here that the emotional heart of his charm offensive revealed itself. Benjani didn’t speak like a coach passing through; he spoke like a man invested in restoring Highlanders’ identity. He told Khoza that Highlanders needs him just as much as he needs Highlanders — a message that cuts deeper than any tactical instruction.
He invoked the legends, the tireless warriors of old who fought for the badge with grit and honour. It was a challenge wrapped in encouragement, a reminder that playing for Bosso is not merely employment; it is heritage.
The moment grew heavier when Khoza’s mother reportedly broke down in tears. For her, Benjani’s visit was historic. She confessed, in her emotion, that he was the first Highlanders coach ever to set foot in her home. That, on its own, is a damning indictment of some of Benjani’s predecessors — coaches who demanded loyalty without ever bothering to understand the lives, homes, or mothers behind the players. In one visit, Benjani repaired what others didn’t even attempt to fix: the human link between club and family. Again, it is an echo of Ferguson’s way — the recognition that footballers are not just assets but young men with roots, pressures and families who shape their psychology.
From Khoza, the Makokoba road led Benjani to Darlington Mukuli. He went first to Mukuli’s place of residence, only to find him away. Many would have ticked the box and moved on.
Benjani did the opposite. He pressed on, tracked the player across the township to Nguboyenja, and finally met him there. It was not a grandstand moment, just a coach determined to connect — with purpose. Mukuli is no ordinary squad member; he carries a history woven through Bosso’s junior ranks, having captained the club’s youth sides and absorbed the club’s habits the way one absorbs a language at home.
Benjani reminded him of that lineage — of the leadership already proven, the standards already set. He told Mukuli plainly that he is a valuable member of the team, not because of hype or convenience, but because he understands the club’s DNA and culture. In a squad searching for its voice, a leader who grew up speaking Bosso can be the tuning fork.
Benjani’s persistence in finding him said as much as his words: you are seen, you are needed, and the door is open for you to lead again. Not all attempts were successful, though. Benjani is said to have also reached out to Andrew Mbeba, the injured utility player whose contract expired last year. Mbeba had initially agreed to a meeting but has since ignored the coach’s calls.
His absence is not due to shyness or sudden immobility; rather, Mbeba is reportedly holding out for a new deal — one that includes not only a hefty signing on fee but a house.
Whether ambition has crossed into stubbornness is a matter for another day, but it speaks to the fractures Benjani is trying to heal. Even as he extends his hand, not everyone is ready to take it.
Yet taken as a whole, Benjani’s weekend tour tells us everything we need to know about his philosophy. He is not merely building a team; he is rebuilding a culture.
He is reminding Highlanders that success does not begin on match day but in the quiet corners of players’ homes, in the conversations that shape character long before boots touch grass. And in borrowing from the Ferguson school of management, he signals that Highlanders will not be run on convenience but on conviction, not on distance but on proximity.
This is the English Premier League influence — not flashy tactics or modern jargon, but the understanding that football clubs are families, and families thrive on care, accountability, and presence. For a club as rooted in community as Highlanders, this may be the missing piece that reconnects players to their identity and supporters to their hope.
If this is what Benjani’s early days look like, Highlanders may just be on the cusp of something special.
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