Last week I was the editor of the paper, proud to say these were my best reads:
Wits staff ‘rural farm workers’ by Thuletho Zwane. A great article that exposes an outsourcing company which used dodge classification of workers to pay them less. It is disgusting that this kind of thing is still going on in this day and age.
Rumble in the tunnel by Caro Malherbe. A story about the supposed improper conduct by the PYA last week. Points to some of the tactics being used ahead of SRC elections.
Women’s team won’t whimper by Mfuneko Toyana. A story on women’s football at Wits, it highlights the big difference in attention and resources provided to teams based on gender.
(My random numbering now coincides with the month we are in so hey, so why not stay with the 8 point something’s?)
I woke up five minutes before my alarm was due to ring last week Monday. I couldn’t keep in the excitement any longer I guess. I swung my wee legs out of the warm cocoon that was my bed and braved the cold all smiles to get ready for my week ahead as editor.
I welcomed everyone on the 19th voyage upon the Vuvuzela express at news conference later that morning and just like that the week was in full swing.
We had our first feature workshop on that same day, an hour or two dedicated to criting our feature writing work. I loved this process because gaps I might have never even seen where pointed out and will make for a better feature when I re-write it.
In an odd turn of events we had to distribute the newspaper on Monday because of the public holiday the Friday before. 1pm came, 3pm strolled in and by 5pm we still had no Vuvuzela’s to hand out. Distribution then turned into a two day mission but it got done in the end.
We had two other guest speakers on Tuesday morning, meaning our Vuvu day only started at about lunch time. There we were typing and chatting away in the newsroom, when someone ran in telling us that there was a fire on the 15th floor.
SMOKEY: Elevator technician trying to extinguish the flames in Lift B on 14 floor, University Corner. Photo: Pheladi Sethusa
Being the people we are, two of us grabbed our cameras, the other a notebook and off we ran to try and get the story. By the 14th floor we were inhaling the smoke fumes but still trying to get closer for that perfect shot. We were chased away but came back about 5 minutes later. Found out that there had been a fire in one of the lifts. You know, the one we take every day. The evacuation made for an unproductive afternoon.
Wednesday morning saw 7 team vuvu members heading to Orange Farm to help out with something the Wits Justice Project was doing in the area. That plus two people off sick, made for a very empty newsroom. Copy came in very slowly, causing a few tempers to flare.
As usual I dibsed the photo spread page, the lack of fast copy got us the Oppi page we wanted *boogies*
Oppikoppi photo spread
Production did not run smoothly at all but as usual it all came together in the end. The following morning we had a bit of a design workshop with Irwin Manoim, I found it quite helpful.
Later that night I went off to the “We are going to kill each other today: The Marikana Story” – a collection of photographs and stories by a group of journalists and photographers. The event was held at the Old Fort at Constitutional Hill, on the exact date that marked a year since the massacre happened. It was quite overwhelming seeing the photographs taken at Marikana while standing in what used to be an apartheid jail. Death was all around us.
On Saturday a bunch of us headed off to Soccer City for the Nelson Mandela sports day. We got complimentary tickets to watch Bafana Bafana take on Burkina Faso and later the Springboks take on the Argentinians. Both of our teams won leading to much merriment in the stands.
I wanted to leave early to see my parents off but decided to stay on to watch some of the concert. I did for a while but the cold got to me and managed to catch a ride back to campus. I was really excited to go home to a hot meal and my warm bed.
Those thoughts all came to an abrupt halt when a black figure decided to break my car window and steal my backpack. The backpack with my DSLR camera and wallet in it. In the moment I froze and couldn’t accelerate like my mind was telling me to.
Long story short, I picked up new bank cards and got a new window fitted today. What a way to end what was an amazing week.
Last week we took a decision to change the colour of our masthead to a bright pink. This was done to celebrate Women’s Day. Just a small token on our part.
The public holiday was spent with some people attending high teas, getting breakfast in bed or perhaps a bunch of flowers. For Team Vuvu, however, it was spent in the Limpopo heat, deciding which band to listen to.
Oppi
The only signs of Women’s Day at this year’s Oppikoppi Bewilderbeast festival were in the random shout-outs by artists and bands on stage.
Maybe the signs were all around us: women were drinking their livers dead, laden with dirt and screaming their lungs out, with no visible judgment against them. We saw a beautiful lesbian couple wrapped in each other’s arms, listening to Bongeziwe Mabandla’s set on the top of a hill.
They epitomised some of the freedom women enjoy today.
The Wits Vuvuzela team exercised their own kind of freedom. We pitched our tent where we wanted, showered when we could and got to pick and choose from some of the best performers the festival has ever seen.
The experience was soured by a minor racist incident, something we had been waiting for. What we hadn’t anticipated was that it would come from a tiny hipster-looking girl. Looks can be deceiving like that.
Oppikoppi has a reputation for being an Afrikaans rock festival, but that in no way describes the entire festival. The programme was defined by diversity.
We watched a set done entirely in isiXhosa, swayed to the “indie-bele” sounds of ShortStraw and danced like we were on Jika Majika when Mi Casa and Zakes Bantwini performed. We didn’t even get to attend half the things on offer.
We left on a high note, having experienced something new and survived the wilderness.
Back to reality
On the way back, reality sent shivers down our spines when we drove past a sign marking the entrance to Marikana. Today marks the one-year anniversary of what is now called theMarikana massacre, in which 34 families lost fathers, brothers, sons and husbands.
Under apartheid, we had a police force that we believe was put in place to drive fear into the hearts of people. Post-1994, we expected a police service that would serve and protect its people. On August 16 2012, we started to question whether we don’t perhaps have a police force instead of a police service.
Driving past the place where so much blood was split and where people are still being killed brought us back to the “real” South Africa. The one beyond the 20 000 people choosing to slum it for the experience, and pretending to get along despite the drunken slurs.
This week’s paper came out a little later than usual, hence that lead to delayed reading of all the copy.
But now that I have, here are this week’s best reads:
Cheers, I’ll drink to that by Liesl Frankson. This was one of the first ‘fun’ front page stories we have had all year. It was a refreshing read and I’m glad it got to go on the front page. Also love the picture that went with it.
Transie Missions by many (lol). This was a collaborative photo spread done by a few of us in the newsroom. I love any and all photo spreads that go in the paper because I’m down with photos like that :p
The power of woman by Prelene Singh. This piece spoke to the other side of the Vavi scandal. Probably an unpopular debate to have with it being women’s month but an important one I rate.
Supreme Failure by Emelia Mostai and Shandukani Mulaudzi. This breaking news story looks at a high school across the road from us; parents and students complained about the lack of teaching staff for grade 12 learners. The publishing of the story has led to the Department of Education promising to visit the school tomorrow to assess the situation. The efforts of great journalism.
We had the time of our lives and we screamed our lungs out for our favourite acts as the dust made its way into our ill-prepared bodies.
The first thing to remember for next year is that Oppi is also known as “Dustville”. Have something to cover your nasal cavities and mouth. It will save you rocky tastes in your mouth and sandy lip gloss.
Now that we are no longer Oppi virgins, we thought it fitting to provide a few survival tips for those looking to go next year.
BAKING: Fans braving the sun to watch a show. Photo: Pheladi Sethusa
How to make it out alive
We had bought enough food and booze to sustain our little bodies for three days in the bush. But on the last day, dry hot dogs with no margarine on the bun or sauce on the Vienna no longer seemed appealing.
The second thing to remember, the festival runs on a cashless system. Those who wish to buy food and drink on the farm have to buy pre-loaded debit cards.
We opted not to do this, knowing it would lead to frivolous spending. We had packed enough food but the smell of boerie rolls and hot chips accosted our senses by the last day, we were dying for a hot meal.
We were also so dehydrated at that point that seeing people’s water bottles had us salivating. Pack enough water, even enough is not quite enough – pack more than enough just to be safe.
In addition energy drinks would have been beneficial. We could barely keep our eyes open by the third day, this would have been cured by a kick and wings from one of those special drinks.
RUINED: Three pairs of shoes that will probably never be clean again. Photo: Shandukani Mulaudzi
Clothes and shoes
We were so scared of the cold that we only packed winter clothes, big mistake. During the daytime we wanted to cry as the hot Limpopo sun scorched our fully covered bodies. It was as if the devil himself was sitting on the hill by the stages letting his heat out on everybody.
Do not bring shoes you hope to wear ever again and only bring one pair. You are going to be filthy by the end of the festival, so rather go with the general theme and take scrappy clothing.
On your way in and out
On the way to and from Oppi try to choose the route with the toll gates, it will set you back R21 but big, open, un-potholed roads await you. This way you won’t have to battle it out with trucks that are struggling to stay on the narrow, windy lanes.
Most importantly though we had a of fun, we enjoyed all that Oppi had to offer and made memories to last a lifetime.
Decided to start this new little section, to promote what I thought were the best reads from the newspaper.
Obviously none of my work will feature in this section because that’ what the rest of this blog is dedicated to.
I’ll just share some of the best work from #teamvuvu that week and hope others enjoy it as much as I did. So here goes:
Academia lost in translation by Nolwazi Mjwara. Fasctnating piece on monolingualism in South Africa. I felt like I was at the talk and agreed with everything the speaker had to say.
A coffee shop that’s stirring things up by Mfuneko Toyana. A write up about HEI Cafe, i may be a little biased considering my vested interests in HEI but regardless it was a well written piece with beautiful imagery.
Dismissed “sex pests” speak… by Prelene Singh and Emelia Motsai. Our front page this week, the quotes in this article are priceless. This article also represents something much bigger though. It’s about showing that the collective efforts of our team, the University and the brave girls and boys who came forward have been effective.
I did not report my harasser by Shandukani Mulaudzi. In my humble yet not so humble opinion there has not been one ‘Slice of Life’ written that isn’t compelling. The section lets us truly speak in our voice, Loved that this read like a conversation. Literally though, Shandu and I discussed this matter a few weeks ago and now here it is on paper (well on screen here).
Letter to SRC president by Saul Musker. He is not a teamvuvunite but his letter made the opinions section of the paper. Shucks if ever there was a response to an open letter, this was it. I could hardly believe that I was reading the words of a first year. His response was clear and left me with a lot to think about.
Patriarchy slapped me right in the face this morning.
I was listening to my new favourite radio station, Power FM. One of the news bulletins covered a story about a serial rapist who committed suicide while in prison. This man had raped 34 girls. The breakfast show anchor, Tim Modise said that it was “unfortunate” that the man decided to kill himself. What?!
What was unfortunate was that it took 33 ‘other’ rapes to catch this man. What was unfortunate was that the he saw it fit to strip 34 girls of their innocence and dignity. What was unfortunate was that 34 girls will probably never have ‘normal’ relationships with men. That’s unfortunate.
The man’s suicide is not.
They then went on to talk about how he may have had psychological problems and how ‘irresponsible’ it was to put a man like him in a solitary cell. Irresponsible.
What struck me was the words these men used to effectively shield one of their own. No one said good riddance or that maybe it was a long time coming. No one spoke of how maybe now the 34 girls could start to heal. No one breathed a word about them.
This brings me to my second on air encounter with slippery words. I decided to tune in to 702 yesterday, for the first time in 3 weeks – just to give them a chance you know. When I changed the station I had done so just in time for John Robbie’s Comment, a segment in which he gets to air his views and opinions.
He was outraged by a comment made by the secretary general of COSAS. In his comment, Tshiamo Tsotetsi called for the castration of rapists. To this Robbie said “did you ever hear such a deeply stupid and dangerous comment?” To answer his question, no. It is not a ‘stupid’ comment, it’s a proactive one. SA has a rife rape culture which cannot and has not been cured by judicial channels. Why not take away the instrument used to rape? Tsotetsi’s comment borders on brilliance.
Robbie went on to say that what Tsotetsi was suggesting promoted vigilantism and would break the law in a violent manner. As opposed to rape which doesn’t right?
If you rape, you should know that you are opening up a world of hurt for yourself. You should be afraid to do it knowing how dire the consequences may be. I back COSAS on this one.
Men should not trivialise how violent and how prevalent rape has become in our society. I am not saying that these men did but the language they chose to use suggested it – well to me in any case.
I just finished watching the first season of The Newsroom (again). I first watched the series earlier in the year when I had just began my honours in Journalism at Wits.
I decided to watch it again for three reasons: 1) I am REALLY excited to be going back to school on Monday after being on holiday for about six weeks. 2) The second season starts later today, yays 3) I wanted to see how differently I would view the show now that I am a semi legit journ person.
[Aside: for those of you who actually read my posts – yes my ‘Newsroom’ something point something posts are a play on the series title and the show title News Night 2.0]
This time around watching the show was way more emotional. I think it has to do with the fact that I have a better understanding of what they all went through – in the newsroom that is. I have learnt a thing or two about the pressures of being in a newsroom – even if ours isn’t considered a ‘real’ one.
I felt like I could very well be one of the journalists in that newsroom. I wanted to be on their team, working on a show like News Night 2.0. Even though it’s a fictional show and all. I respect their hustle – yes that’s it. I respect their hustle.
I loved Will and MacKenzie more – so much more. They reminded me of the kind and calibre of people who teach us. They really have their whole teams back all the time. They support their valiant efforts at delivering the news, real news that matters. Something we have been encouraged to do as well.
I guess this time round it just reinforced and validated my very ambitious reasons for deciding to become a journalist. It reminded me that I can do something worthwhile while having the time of my life. Which I am.
Disclaimer: I wouldn’t really call this a book review – just don’t dig the term. Also don’t feel like I’m qualified to write such yet. I’m just telling you that I read this book, how it made me feel and why or why not one should give it a read. That’s all. Let’s rather call it a ‘Literary Post-Mortem’ (I like that)
Onwards with A Bantu in My Bathroom by Eusebius McKaiser then. Been wanting to read this book for some time, but being the broke student I am it just never happened. Umtil I got this as a gift, yays.
Before I tell you how awesome a read it was, I must mention that I am a fan of the man. At some point in my second year at Wits I considered taking up Philosophy in the hopes of being lectured by him at some point. However, reason and a passion for what I was already doing steeled me. Anyway back to why I’m a fan – I love his insights and the way he chooses to deal with difficult topics that many are reluctant to. Along with this I find him quite relatable – not all the time but I mostly get him/what he’s saying.
The book is basically a collection of essays based on a variety of topics. Namely race, culture and sexuality. Under each section there are about four to five essays, which aim at tackling various aspects of the ‘big issue’ at hand. Unsurprisingly, my favourite essays were in the race section. I think that it is still important to look at and understand why race is still an important contributing factor to the lived South African experience. He mentioned that we can’t pretend we don’t see race just to avoid being labelled ‘racist’.
McKaiser highlights some of the most important race related challenges South Africans face. He explains why Affirmative Action is necessary, discusses white privilege, tackles the issue of whether or not black people can be racist and much more. Even though one might disagree in places, I did find myself agreeing with him 80% of the time – not just in this section but throughout the rest of the book.
In the sexuality section he spoke about ‘coming out’, love and even rape. This part of the book was the most personal for me and as such riveting to read. When it came to culture he looked at ploygamy, divisions present in our society and the advantages and disadvantages of being a so-called coconut. The range of issues raised in his essays is quite big. I was not left wanting when I was done reading – I legit felt like he discussed everything one could in 209 pages.
We should instead accept that we are deeply divided – spatially, linguistically, culturally, ideologically – and reflect on how we might live in each other’s space while disagreeing deeply with each other. The alternative, fake national unity, is simply childish. (excerpt from the book)
What I enjoyed the most were the little anecdotes that coloured his essays. For me it helped to bring home his points and also offered an unique peep into his personal life. I have often seen McKaiser on tv, attended seminar’s that he spoke at and listened to his show on radio. This book felt like the literary incarnation of those experiences. Not the content but with regards to style. It was easy read and understand because he was just being himself (or so I assume). He did stress how important authenticity is to him so I imagine he wrote in a way that would reflect that.
I also liked and admired the fact that he didn’t ‘other’ people. He didn’t speak about racists, homophobes and misogynists in a distanced manner. He made it clear that we are these people, that we are our biggest problem in many cases. Also highlighting that change can only begin with us.
If I had the money I would go out of my way to buy a few people a copy. The idea’s put forward are of great import and I feel that the more people they reach the better.
Write. Snap. Click. 