Gone are the times when a Journalist (from print or broadcast) was by society, at all times ranked high there on top ( as the know it all, the only wit, or lets say the only option). These were the times when media was new, and players were very few.
In Africa such times were when there was one Television or Radio station, and a news paper, while Magazines were also a here-say. With this, even gadgets like radios were so basic amidst families, that even parents could schedule opportune hours in dedication to listening in.
Radio was adored, that not a child would dare mess with their parents’ radio set without consent. Figures, oh, yes, the first African radio broadcasters in South Sub-Sahara date back as early as the 1920s, with South Africa in the 1923, while Kenya as the pioneers tasted of this in 1927, Mozambique(1933), Senegal (1939) and so on.
Unlike today, where they are lavishly adorning bars, supermarkets and even accessible through mobile technology, televisions were limited to top elites, that even watching them was glorious.
Oh, and a newspaper or magazine was classy that the few who spent a dear penny on them, or borrowed (even an old newspaper) could strike a pose on a bus station, post office box, bank at cues with high esteem (even without holding a clue of that particular edition entailed)
Then with such regard back then, one could imagine what it really meant to work for a media house. What it felt like to be a writer, radio or TV Presenter. Like a ‘god’ I could say, or next to the term- am sure how it was everything, that mattered most ( that not even a Minister was more famous than a media personality).
Such times brought were ones where passion steered the Journalism, where those there were in it with deeper devotion, and of course the money complimented it, as the advertising bit set in, with real meaning….
Andrew Israel Kazibwe is an African- Rwanda based Arts writer- curious about life, and as a learner openly expressing unfolding issues and interpretation about the Arts…