Elly Sasii is unbothered. Calm. Smiling. Somewhere with a glass of wine in hand, showing no signs of remorse after officiating one of the most controversial Premier League fixtures of the season—one that heavily favoured Simba Sports Club.
He seems amused by those of us who are appalled, particularly by our praise for referee Ahmed Arajiga, who handled the second-leg Federation Cup semifinal between Simba and Singida Black Stars with commendable professionalism in Manyara.
For Sasii, this all unfolded just as he anticipated: make the call, take the flak, enjoy the silence that follows.
He knew exactly how the system works. We’re the ones still naïve enough to believe otherwise.
In just five days, the contrast between the two referees couldn’t have been starker.
Sasii was at the centre of controversy during the league fixture between Simba and Singida Black Stars, where he flatly denied Singida two legitimate penalties.
The decisions were so blatantly wrong that even neutral observers cringed.
I make it a point to discreetly engage a handful of referees for post-match insights, never naming them, of course.
Some explain their thinking, others admit mistakes. Sasii chose to block me rather than answer simple questions. That says a lot. He had no explanation then, just as he has none now.
That match was not an isolated case. Sasii has developed a reputation for inconsistent and questionable officiating, often tilting the balance in favour of one side—this time, undeniably for Simba.
There’s an unsettling pattern here. While we can’t conclusively prove intent, the damage to the integrity of the game is real and immediate.
But here’s the twist: Sasii likely knew that the season was winding down.
A Tanzanian referee who botches a major fixture is typically given a token three-month suspension.
It’s a slap on the wrist—more of a recess than a punishment. He’ll likely be “disciplined,” sit out the off-season, and return in September as if nothing ever happened. Business as usual.
That’s the real scandal. Sasii's likely suspension will run parallel to the league’s break, meaning it’ll have no real consequence.
He’s been through this before, served similar “bans,” and returned to make the same errors. It's a system designed not to reform, but to recycle mediocrity.
Referees who have no aspirations beyond our borders—those not eyeing CAF or FIFA assignments—often treat these matches with alarming carelessness.
They know they won’t be flying off to officiate continental ties like Arajiga, who recently presided over a Botswana vs Algeria clash. They have nothing to lose, so they act accordingly.
Arajiga, on the other hand, knows that a single lapse in judgement could cost him prestigious international assignments.
That’s why he referees with caution and clarity. The same cannot be said for Sasii, who officiates like a man with diplomatic immunity.
The fallout? First, our league becomes a theatre of farce. Mistakes are part of the game, even in elite leagues, but what we saw from Sasii wasn’t a marginal error.
It was a complete failure in judgment, one that didn’t need VAR to correct. Even Simba fans, privately, acknowledged that Singida were robbed of two clear penalties.
Secondly, we risk losing the confidence of sponsors. Companies invest millions in our game and expect integrity. When referees turn it into a pantomime, how long before the backers pull out?
Betting firms, too, could question the credibility of our results. They might stop offering odds on local fixtures, or worse, withdraw sponsorship altogether. If match outcomes seem scripted, why stay in the business?
And let’s not forget the fans. Local supporters are already disenchanted. Stadium attendance is low, and European football dominates viewership. Why? Because, unlike here, fans don’t know how a match will end before it begins. In Tanzania, especially in high-stakes matches, the referee often arrives with the final score in his pocket.
In the end, the so-called punishments handed to referees like Sasii are toothless. He causes major damage to the sport, yet his only consequence is a brief holiday. Why would he be afraid?
If Sasii were an international referee, someone on CAF or FIFA’s radar, he might worry about losing flight bookings, match fees, or reputation. But he’s not. He’s a domestic fixture. He hears our protests, chuckles, lifts his wine glass, and waits for the storm to pass.
What he intended, he achieved. Come September, Elly Sasii will be back on the pitch, whistle in hand, carrying on like nothing happened. And unless we fix the system that allows this, Tanzanian football will continue its slow drift into farce.
