First by-line craze: ‘Why is she just smiling wit**ut asking me w** wrote the story?’ I silently wondered with enthusiasm
[dropcap]S[/dropcap]haring a newsroom with some of the country’s best journalists was a matter of privilege in t**se early days. As a trainee journalist, there was nothing more exciting and soothing than having banter daily with the then top-notch scribes.
George Ant**ny Mbuggus (Editor-in-Chief), Joe Kadhia (Deputy Editor-in-Chief), Laston Mutegi Njau (News Editor), Catherine Waithera Gicheru (Deputy News Editor), Otula Owuor (Science Editor), Wa**me ‘Whispers’ Mutahi (***ociate Editor – Culture and Arts), Justin Macharia (Sunday Editor), Patrick Mungai (Features Editor), Wangethi Mwangi (Chief Sub-Editor), Nic**las Musonye (Sports Editor), Peter ***utere (Business Editor) and Nixon Kariithi (Deputy Business Editor) were the men w** formed the leadership meniscus on w**se watch I cut my teeth (or as Chinua Achebe would say it, ‘I broke my bones’) along Tom Mboya Street on the first floor of Nation **use, where the then headquarters of the country’s largest media outfit, Nation Printers and Publishers (now Nation Media Group on Nation Centre) were located.
In ways more than one these crop of men and woman formed a substantial percentage of Kenya’s creme-de-la-creme in the Fourth Estate at the time. They were some of the best hands to work with or under and even just be around them. You always learned a lot, so fast and steadily.
Mutegi Njau in particular was a ***** of sorts. T**ugh he and I got (and st*** do) along very much – of course with a lot of perseverance – it is not lost on me that so many of my intern colleagues from the University of Nairobi’s Sc**ol of Journalism, Kenya Ins***ute of Communication (KIMC) and Moi University abandoned their attachments in a huff after only one or two weeks because they could not stand the relentless ****** unleashed by the abrasive News Editor.
Whereas he sharpened your s***** and workmanship to credible levels, you really needed to be made of some sterner stuff to withstand Mutegi. I am among the few w** tolerated him for the entire three-month (for a record four times) internship periods. I do not regret. And I thank him to date.
Tough, inquisitive, t**rough, ***agogy and nocturnal Speak-Easy enthusiasts gave you the best and expected the best from you as well. It was not, therefore, surprising that in less than six months after joining college (my current boss at People Daily and former cl***-mate at KIMC Joseph Maina Muiruri can bear me witness), I made history as the first student in our cl*** to have a published article in the Sunday Nation.
The media industry has since transformed and expanded tremendously such that today’s trainee journalists might not be as mesmerised as we used to be then on registering your first by-line in the print media or voice on radio and face on Kenya Broadcasting Corporation television screen.
It was in 1989. I used to stay with my sister, Margaret Naliaka, in Eastleigh. I had woken up very early that Sunday because I wanted the w**le world to know that I was now a published man of letters. Sunday Editor Justin Macharia had hinted to me the previous evening: “kijana (youngman) we are using your article tomorrow. It is a good piece. Keep it up. Write more.”
So on this day I asked my brother-in-law, Darpson Musawa (my sister’s husband) that I would go and buy that day’s (he liked reading) papers for him. He gave me the money for that. I got the Nation and Standard and went straight to the page where my article was, read through it three times while standing at the vendor’s selling point. I was disappointed that none of the persons w** had crowded there was commenting on my story, leave alone opening the page where it was.
See Also: Journalists get hangover from vanishing of their unwinding den
I went back to the **use, spread the page on the table and went to take a s**wer. I left for office where I anticipated that some fellows there would make positive comments about my piece. On entering ****tu No. 9, I went to sit next to a middle-aged (I must admit she was very pretty) woman with a mean-looking face that falls in the parentheses of banking and accountancy w** was reading that Sunday Nation.
She was reading Wa**me Mutahi’s ‘Whispers’ column. On completion she started to quickly flip through the other pages. I heaved a sigh of relief when she stop*** on page 17 where my article was and began to read it earnestly. I had pegged the theme of my story on revelling parents w** carry along their children to noisy social *****s where they engage in **************, chain-******* and sensual dancing in front of their tender offsprings, only to regret years later when t**se very children take cue from them and engage in similar escapades. Renown artiste Paul Kelemba (Maddo) had given it an apt eye-catching caricature to sum it all.
Why is no one exited?
As the ****tu cruised to town, I could see the woman moving her fingers from one line to the next as she read the story ani*****. Every now and then she would shift face from the page and smile with a lot of joy. At other times she would just grin and continue reading. Since I was the aut**r of that story, I was expecting her to tell me that the writer of the article had powerfully driven the point **me. She did not.
Every time she broke into laughter I would ask myself: “Why is she just smiling wit**ut asking me w** wrote the story? Does she know that I am the aut**r? I could as well have told her, “You s**uld know people.” But that was a w**le two decades before that phrase would emerge from a Deputy Chief Justice called Dr Nancy Baraza to make relevance to readers.
In no time we arrived in town and I alighted wit**ut the woman knowing that I am the one w** had lightened up her morning. My frustrations were not over. In the office, not even one person made reference to the story. I had a sad day.
I had to wait t*** the following day while in cl*** for our News Writing lecturer, one Siliya (a political exile from Malawi) to make a positive comment about the article and instantly turned me into a college celebrity as a published aut**r. That journey, craze and drive have not stop***. It w*** never stop. The travails of a first time by-line.
The aut**r is a Revise Editor with The People Dailynewspaper,Email: [email protected]
To react on this article, scroll down the comments section and share your views.
[crp]
Leave a comment