LETTER FROM Windhoek

Lloyd Zandberg’s career in journalism used to hinge on paper made from elephant dung, until his boss sent him to Japan.

My parents always tease me about my obsessive attention to detail. Apparently, it’s the reason behind my premature baldness and my insomnia.

I’ve been involved with the arts and entertainment section of the newspaper for most of my short career in journalism. If someone thinks he can sing or play guitar, or if he suspects he might be related to Renoir, or if he makes paper from elephant dung, he’ll contact me. I’ll write an article and hopefully we’ll see the guy on TV one day. I like to think that I have a natural affinity for the finer things in life. I can’t even make a tossed salad without taking the colour wheel into account. The dishes I prepare are usually Cubist-inspired works of art. My parents always tease me about my obsessive attention to detail. Apparently, it’s the reason behind my premature baldness and my insomnia. I can spend hours thinking about the design and structure of something as insignificant as a restaurant menu.

This is only my fourth year as a real journalist and although I don’t have a formal qualification, I must be doing something right – no one has thrown stones at me or threatened to stab me. But a while ago, I started toying with the idea of changing direction. I wanted something different.

Journalism is also changing and it’s moving online. I realised I had to learn how to make videos, do design work and establish myself in the digital world before I was left stranded. So, I dusted off my camera, serviced my tripod and started filming. It went so well we even set up a new department at the newspaper called Production & Online. These days I hardly touch my keyboard and my dictionaries are gathering dust. There are cameras, lighting equipment and microphones wherever you look – stuff I was never comfortable with before. A colleague and I run the department and we produce videos for the newspaper’s social platforms. To our surprise (and I suspect many other people’s) we actually make interesting content. People all around the world watch as Namibians win bokdrol- spitting competitions and work tirelessly to conserve desert lions.

In the middle of the year, my boss called me and my colleague to his office. We were both nervous – his office was in a part of the building you only visited when you had to pack your bags.

We went in. I tried to read the room but I couldn’t figure out if we were in trouble or not.

“You two are doing great work. Thank you.”

“Pleasure,” I said. My colleague also mumbled something. “The Rugby World Cup is in Japan later this year…” the boss said.

“Um, I only know about art,” I said, trying to ward off what was coming.

“But you know how to make videos! Take your cameras and whatever else you need and go make videos in Japan.” I swore. Audibly. Art and rugby seldom mix. I’m no sports journalist – I barely know what “touch, pause, engage” means.

“Konnichiwa!” said my colleague, elated.

“That means ‘hello’,” I retorted, jabbing the colleague with my elbow. I think you mean, ‘ arigato’.”

Life sometimes takes you on strange and wonderful detours. I was open to change, and being open to it brought me the life-changing opportunity to spend two weeks in Japan.

Embrace change. Don’t stand still. Only go to bed when your work is done. Dream up new ideas. Work harder. And smarter. Believe in yourself. We have to, because we live in world that’s always changing.

Happy holidays! May the year ahead be filled with things exciting and new.