After years at helm, a final farewell
JOURNALISM – in its strictest definition – was never my first love. Notions of uncovering and documenting the worst of humanity from a place of cool detachment would have doubtless seen the likes of bleeding-heart me landing up in a loony bin!
Telling people’s stories. Unearthing the proverbial pumpkin pieces amid the muck. Celebrating the beauty that is human creativity. That’s what intrigued me. It’s what drew me to the glorious world of theatre in my earlier days… a place where fantasy could fly free, or where the voices of those who had been silenced could be heard in poignant and powerful ways.
Fate saw fit to afford me a career where I could combine the two and so it was that, over the past 15 years, I was known by the title of Entertainment Journalist and, later, Editor. Ten of those years have been spent amid the hallowed halls of The Star newspaper.
It is a place through which legends of the press industry have passed, a monument to the media monoliths who made their mark in the annals of history in the tireless pursuit of a compelling picture, or the article that simply had to be written, political or personal repercussions be damned. Some even sacrificed their lives for it.
Arriving here a decade ago, the presence of the Ghosts of Papers Past could still be felt through the throbbing pulse of the newsroom, with the loud laughter of our madcap Tonight team (24 then, a mere eight today) permeating the addictive intensity of the daily deadlines cycle.
Even as arts and entertainment reporting increasingly evolved (some would say devolved) into the realm of the vacuous, still yours truly held firm to the view that simply because the subject might live within the vainglorious abstract of image and pretence, the subject matter need not follow suit.
There was – and still is – scope for critical, analytical, thought-provoking arts-related tales to be told. And darn garn it, I was going to be the one to tell them, as the new breed of journos around me Tweeted, Instagramed, Facebooked and Snapchatted their way into their own 15 minutes of fame.
In many ways, I was still witness to the best and worst of humanity. Friendships were forged and others floundered in the proverbial line of duty. Those you once held in high regard revealed themselves to be little more than wolves in smart suits (if you’ll pardon the bastardisation of the idiom), while others who were often on the other side of the fence proved to be authentic allies.
There have been adventurous travels across the globe from Mexico to Malaysia, moments of acute disappointment, many lessons learnt, incredible memories made and mindblowing encounters with the who’s who of the world (Madiba foremost among them).
But when the calendar turns over to Wednesday, November 30 next week, the journey will come to an end.
Perhaps I am not among those whose names will for ever line the figurative walls of The Star. But as I, along with a crew of fellow senior colleagues, prepare to bid adieu to what was once this beacon of journalistic excellence, I say THANK YOU for the privilege.
LARA DE MATOS