LUKHONA MNGUNI | 'Madia, You will not be missed, you will be felt for generations to come'

Molo Madia!

Death is inevitable, no doubt. But each time it hits like a lightning rod on an unexpected Spring afternoon. I never had to imagine burying you. We take life so for granted. I say, Molo Madia because you are not gone. You are here with us; we refuse to let you go.

You lived. Your life was a journey in search for meaning. You were formidable in your networks, your black book, but you still submitted yourself to scrutiny. You picked up the phone to exchange ideas, test your conclusions and you were willing to be wrong. Often, you said, “something is not adding up” and I knew it was going to be a very long phone call. You milked those calls for dear life. We might have taken them for granted but we were in search for meaning about the state of our country, its leadership, its people, its actors and its influencers.

I even forgot how formidable you were because to some of us you submitted yourself in all your vulnerability. You humanised us as much as you demanded that we do.

How can I forget your guilty moments, after a long lunch discussing politics nd these silly politicians, you would get home and be haunted that you did not ask me about my family. You would send a text “please send my regards to your family, how are they doing?” You did not have fleeting moments, you were invested and immersed. So tender. I wonder if they ever called you mama bear in some circles? Hahaha.

Madia! That meant a lot to me. You were not Matshidiso or Tshidi. Just Madia. You carried your family name so well. They must be so proud. I have no doubt they would have been nervous about your chosen trade. How dare you meet presidents? How scandalous you even question them? Who were you? Your family must have thought they gave birth to a rebel, an enigma, a round peg in a square hole. I have no doubt they were silently beaming with pride and satisfaction as you became one of South Africa’s most formidable journalists.

You stood tall in your loudness. I am very worried about the growth of compromised journalists whose proximity to political elites confuses their mandate. We spoke about this, we developed check points for you, and we confronted blind spots. It is such a delicate trade – searching for meaning. You must have friends and foes in unexpected places. You navigated that space with great aplomb. Your sources were not your friends. They were not beyond reproach and were never spared the sharpness of your questioning. You did not just publish or broadcast – you took us in a journey in search for meaning. It is such an unrewarding journey. Some will celebrate you for now, but we know they questioned you, conjured up conspiracies about your motives, doubted your professionalism, not because you were wrong, you were simply getting too close to the truth. You were uncomfortably exposing them.

Madia! Is the sun setting on such greatness? Must our memories fade on so memorable a human being? I refuse, I refute, I protest. I wish I could pocket you, find out the intricacies of your wallet. Man, who pockets Julius Malema successfully besides you? Who thought challenging a politician to show off their wallet was work? You did that Madia. You recently had such an affectionate interview with him, ngwana koko Sarah. Your chosen trademark. It was never personal, just a journey in search for meaning. Now, we must search and discover what your death means. You loved us, we loved you, you knew it. Rest ngwana. Madia!!

2026 blow, Eusebius 2024 blow, give us a signal into the future.

You will no longer bounce like a tennis ball (remember Ace Magashule? Of course you do), but in our minds, thoughts and discourse we will remember that we once lived in your midst. Energetic, boisterous, loud, loving, embracing and carefree. You go on to join some of our erstwhile veteran broadcasters who were dear friends to me, Luzuko Koti and Eusebius Mckaiser. Madia!!

You will ot be missed, you will be felt for generations to come.