Farewell Hamad Kalkaba Malboum, my friend, my brother, my president. 268
The passing of Hamad Kalkaba Malboum, my friend, my brother, my president, marks a painful turning point for African sport. With him fades one of the last great builders of a generation that believed Africa could claim its place in global sports institutions not through complaints, victimhood, or marginalization, but through work, organization, and consistency.
Born in 1950 in Kawadji, near Kousséri (Far North of Cameroon), the country he cherished so deeply, Hamad Kalkaba Malboum lived several lives in one existence. He was a soldier, gendarme, athlete, administrator, sports diplomat, and above all, a tireless advocate for Cameroonian and African sport.
Shaped by the rigor of a senior army and gendarmerie officer, he understood early on that sport was not merely entertainment, but an instrument of sovereignty, influence, and national cohesion. He himself practiced handball and athletics in his youth, representing Cameroon in the 1970s.
But it was especially off the tracks that he would leave a historic mark.
When Hamad Kalkaba gradually rose to continental sports responsibilities, African athletics was still in the shadow of Western powers. African champions already existed, but decision-making centers remained elsewhere. Africa supplied the talent, rarely the decision-makers.
He devoted his life to changing that balance.
At the helm of the National Olympic and Sports Committee of Cameroon from the late 1990s, and especially as president of the African Athletics Confederation starting in 2003, he became one of the continent's most listened-to voices in international sports circles.
His fight was constant: giving Africa the means to organize, govern, and think its own sport.
In 2006, when I left the Royal Moroccan Athletics Federation, as soon as he heard the news, he picked up the phone and said to me: "It's a shame for Morocco that you've left the Federation. Do you want to serve Africa by my side?" That's how he convinced me to say yes. "Serve": Kalkaba's watchword.
Those who knew him know that was his philosophy of life: to serve. First, rigorous planning was put in place. A ten-year plan was adopted at the general assembly, followed by a second one ten years later. The course was set, clear, with the goal of all-around development of African athletics. Continental championships for U18s and U20s were established, along with cross-country. The number of participating countries was to increase, and that of athletes double. Training centers were opened for athletes in Lomé, Port Harcourt, and Abidjan. The missions of the centers in Mauritius, Cairo, and Nairobi were revisited. Emphasis was placed on training athletes and coaches. And the results came quickly. Africa won the Intercontinental Cup several times. The level of African athletes improved, and at least three countries ranked among the top 10 at every edition of the world championships and Olympics.
Under his impetus, African championships gained visibility, became structured, and several African countries began hosting major international events. He relentlessly defended the idea that athletics is Africa's true king of sports, the one that offers the continent its greatest Olympic emotions and global recognition.
Just days before his passing, he reiterated this deep conviction: "Africa remains an important cradle of world athletics."
That sentence sums up his entire vision.
For him, Africa was not merely a reservoir of talent destined to enrich other nations. It had to become an organized, respected, and influential sports power, denouncing the brain drain of talents, the mass naturalizations of African athletes, and the lack of state investment in sports infrastructure.
His activism extended far beyond athletics. He played a key role in military sport through the CISM, which he presided over, and as vice president of the Organization of Islamic States Sports. Recently, he brought his peers together to form CASOL, an body uniting African Sports Confederations.
Hamad Kalkaba believed in sport as a diplomatic and geopolitical tool. In a recent lecture at Cameroon's Institute of International Relations, he explained that sport had become a major instrument of soft power, peace, and international influence for African nations. He understood, before many others, that the global sports world was also an arena of political, economic, and cultural power struggles.
He belonged to that generation of African leaders with a continental vision of sport. Like Lamine Diack, to whom he recently paid moving tribute, Hamad Kalkaba saw African athletics as a common heritage to defend collectively.
Criticism was never lacking during his long tenure. Like any power figure spanning decades, he was sometimes accused of embodying an outdated, overly vertical system that was insufficiently renewed. But even his adversaries acknowledged his exceptional knowledge of global sports mechanisms and his rare ability to defend African interests in major international bodies.
His passing comes just as he was preparing the major continental athletics events.
With Hamad Kalkaba Malboum disappears a certain idea of the African sports leader: a man of the field, networks, conviction, and strategic patience. A man who believed Africa must learn to weigh in on international institutions rather than simply participate in them.
His legacy now transcends medals, congresses, or organized competitions. To the end, he remained in service to African sport, which must no longer be a mere extra in world history, but one of its central actors.
Today, African athletics loses more than a leader. It loses a militant.
His final battle was to get adoption of the proposal that World Athletics Council members be elected in their respective continents, according to a quota reserved for each. Who, after him, will defend this constructive idea that he had adopted at the continental level? That's what we were discussing at my place just ten days ago, and on the phone the day before yesterday...
Rest in peace, my friend, my brother, my president. Nothing will ever be the same at the CAA.