LESSON FROM AFRICAN JOURNALIST AWARD

Kenyan journalist Joseph Mathenge  the top prize at this year’s CNN MultiChoice African Journalist 2014 Awards Ceremony held on Satuday night at the Mlimani City Conference hall in Dar es salaam. Looking on is Mathege’s son, Geoff Kihato, also a photographer, who helped his father capture the captivating images of Kenya, when the mall was attacked by unidentified gunmen in 
September 2013

I have never been one for awards, not very much anyway. I have picked up a few along the way, but it has never really been a big deal.

I have seen others pick up awards, and watched while some award themselves.

I know the CNN/Multichoice awards are the biggest in Africa, but I have never submitted even a single article.

I have seen colleagues win, even some whose stuff you have to re-write to make them decent for our newspaper. But I’ve never lost any sleep over it.

Last week, I was invited to attend the 19th edition of the awards, in the Tanzanian capital of Dar es Salaam.

 Why did I accept the invitation? Maybe because I was curious; or maybe a few days away from Kampala seemed like a good idea. But most likely a little bit of both.

This year’s awards came at a time when journalism has changed, and traditional journalism has all but disappeared.

In my almost two decades in a newsroom, I have seen it all change.

There was a time when one entered a newsroom you could feel the vibe of people who are busy having a very big effect on the world. The passion would hit you almost like a physical blow. 

Then, as it is now, journalists did not make much money, but they were very respected in society. You may not drive an expensive car, but nobody held it against you. Yours was a passion to serve; in fact if a journalist had a good car, they were looked at with suspicion, how could he afford it?

The world has changed, though, and that special feeling about being a journalist has all but disappeared.

Anybody with access to the Internet now can break a major news story (that’s how most rumours start these days), and half the world would know about it before a journalist fi led his story and gets it published. The respect has also taken quite a beating.

The new flock of journalists wants to drive good cars in their first year out of school; they cannot do that while spending time in a newsroom so they all take to Public Relations.

Many of us grew up listening to the BBC, and the presenters were our mentors. Now we know in between broadcasts they used to abuse young girls. Does anybody respect journalists anymore? Do journalists still take themselves seriously?

It was with all that as a background that I went to Dar es Salaam last week, to mingle with the cream of Africa’s journalists.

Maybe the debates were not as heated as they were in the old New Vision newsroom, but the passion was still there. It was obvious these select few still believed they have a role to play in the world, and represented the future.

And being recognised as some of the top journalists on the continent was still a big deal. So, I am thinking, maybe I should submit some entries for the next lot, a swan song, so to speak. So at the end of the day, when it is all said and done, I could say – I was once a journalist.
NEW VISION

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