By Nick Gordon in United Kingdom One by one, sadly yet inevitably, the illustrious names of Tanzanian journalism fade into history...
By Nick Gordon in United Kingdom
One by one, sadly yet inevitably, the illustrious names of Tanzanian journalism fade into history.
Hamidu Bisanga was
killed four years ago in Dar es Salaam by a crazy lorry driver; Reginald Mhango
who lingered on and succumbed to the cruel effects of a stroke. Then there was
one-time Managing Editor of The Guardian, Vumi Urassa, who also passed before
his time.
And now I wake up
this morning in my house in West Wales to learn that Tony Barreto has joined
this sad roll call.
Tony was indeed a
rare man. And I use the word 'rare' deliberately. There were few in the
profession which I found to be characterised by a dulling inertia, who
possessed his 24/7 drive, his 20/20 vision, his 10001 % dynamism. When
faced with a problem, Tony didn't file it away in his desk drawer, like so many
others, to be dealt with on another day and most probably forgotten.
Tony, like the
alpha male he was, met the world head- down, head-on. Working with him, was I
recall, a bumpy ride. There were good times, there were bad times and often
there were casualties, but that happens in the frenzied world of
newspapers. But always with Tony there was warmth and understanding and, most
of all a wry sense of humour.
There was, of
course, method behind the staged mania, the emotion and the volcanic energy.
Tony realised, unlike some of his senior colleagues, that success in newspapers was contingent not merely on reflecting the times we live in, but on anticipating them, on interpreting social trends, on embracing new ideas. He was good at this.
Tony realised, unlike some of his senior colleagues, that success in newspapers was contingent not merely on reflecting the times we live in, but on anticipating them, on interpreting social trends, on embracing new ideas. He was good at this.
I came to realise
it quickly when I first worked at The Guardian for the proprietor, Reginald
Mengi. Mengi
had a vision. It was, like most plans of genius, simple. Mengi wanted to
establish a daily newspaper that reported what was actually happening in the
country. He wanted to disseminate the views, the opinions, the life stories of
the people.
He wanted to provide a platform for the voices
of ordinary Tanzanians, not just politicians and the powerful. He wanted to
reflect the break-up of the old hierarchical and politically atrophied order
that was taking place in Eastern Europe. In
short, Mengi had cleverly identified that precious piece of commercial
territory which analysts describe, in their prosaic tones, as a gap in the
market.
All these ideas
were to be enshrined in Mengi's masterpiece, the newspaper he called the
The Daily Mail. Of course, it takes a team of journalists, advertising men, circulation
executives, to create a newspaper, to put into practice the Mengi vision.
I was tasked to
launch the paper. To do so I needed a team of professionals who I could trust
to deliver the vision.
Men like the late
Bisanga and Mhango, Richard Mngazija, Lowi Joel, Mukajanga Kajubi, a
young Finnegan Simbeye and, of course, Tony Barreto.
I can remember the
hours we spent locked together working through page plans, design, advertising
budgets, devising circulation ploys, targeting stories, looking for like-minded
journalists to produce the paper. I can remember to this day - and we going
back nearly 20 years now - Tony's contribution. The most pressing problem we
had as time ran out and the launch date grew closer was that we lacked
reporters with sufficient language skills.
As an
English-language newspaper, we needed journalists who could write in fluent
English. Tony’s answer was radical and brilliant. “Do not recruit journalists
whose English are poor,” he said. “We’ll look for those who speak and write
well in English and we will train them to become reporters.”
And this is what we
did. We found them in the civil service,
the banks, in the schools and university. We selected 12. The fact they did not
know even the basic tenets of the profession, of our profession, did not matter
one iota. We put them in a room in town and subjected them to a crash course in
basic journalism.
Today, some of
those 12 hold down important jobs in journalism, thanks indeed to Tony
Barreto’s incisive mind and left-field thinking.
Tony was a cultured
man. He loved his roots and was a stalwart at the Dar es Salaam Institute (Goan
Club) in town. He was a good father and he and his wife Pearl raised two fine children Catherinerose and Johnpaul who
are both enjoying success in their chosen fields.
Tony loved his work
but he also loved his leisure. He was an expert photographer and showed me on
more than one occasion the pictures he and his daughter had taken over the
years, portraits of the old and decaying Dar es Salaam, buildings from the
German era as well as early colonial architecture that is probably by now, in
this age of high rise all but vanished.
But the memory of
Tony which sticks with me is of his kindness. One night he rescued me from a
late office planning session and whisked me back to his house via the Double
Two pub in Kariakoo area. We sat on his balcony in the heart of the old city
and he played me some tracks from his extensive collection of Swhaili songs.
One he played again and again and again. The melody was soulful, the words
heartbreaking… Nipe Pesa. I can still
hear it now and as I do I think of Tony.
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