#cubs

Easy for you to say when you are working in a media house that has the financial resources. Agreed, they were blaring out the facts, calling a spade a spade, but I could not help but feel that there was an air of pomposity. One of them pocketing (read “swag) and un-pocketing as he spewed about his experiences, the other droning on and on with a presentation he said he did "not need to prepare a paper for".

It is good to recount experiences, it is good to let the rookies know what they are in for, but if you are offering encouragement for what it is worth, then please avoid sounding ominous. Avoid making the profession look like it is only the strong-willed, and hard-hearted who can “endure” journalism.

Problem is, there are so many rookies out there who do not have the slightest idea what they are doing. Being paid a paltry 2,000 shillings per story you do (mind you, that is used on air) is no incentive for you to go spending a day or two digging into a story for which you may find yourself staring into a barrel of a gun before it is even aired. And I am referring to radio journalists here, because they have ruined the profession. They are in their droves. Each time I chance to go out to the “field” I see five new faces. Rushing in, rushing out. Late, untidy. No inkling whatsoever, of what is going on. Interrupting an interview. Thrusting a recorder into an interviewee’s face. Asking the wrong questions. Spelling wrong. Asking half-baked questions. Not reading. I tell you, the list is long.

I have been in this profession 14 years now. I know what I want. To be a good news reader. But I also know what makes a good news story. Good for reading. Good to listen to. And good to watch. And it not that ‘Ken Lukyamuzi Da Man has said that Ugandans must follow the law if they want to be abiding citizens”, or “Warid Telecom has launched its Pakasurf internet services in a ceremony that was attended by the Marketing Manager and fellow staff.” Give me a break!

I started my radio career at Radio Uganda, government owned. Terrible place at the time. There was hardly any supervision and the bosses couldn’t give a damn about what you wrote, all they needed was a PR story about one or other government minister trying to catch the eye of the president. I remember many a time when I would be sent to “cover” a story” but would be asked to “make sure you see so and so after the event”. The brown envelope. To be honest, much as I felt so stupid, I imagined this was journalism. Brown envelopes. And out of 300,000 shillings, the “boss” would hand you a 10,000 shillings note! Walking to and from an event across town. Going without breakfast and lunch. Having your story subjected to the trash can by the editor (along with it being called rubbish and being tossed into the trash can as you watched).

But that is what toughened me. And that is what hardened my resolve never to return to that ugly place. And they wanted to retain us. But that was the era of Ugandan radio going FM. After trying a stint in TV and being horribly scarred by the terrible experience of sexual harassment by a garlic-eating stodgy Indian boss ,who wanted to know if I had a boyfriend and who asked to buy me a red dress for Valentine’s day, I decided that the screen was not my thing then.

With a huge amount of trepidation and timidity on my shoulder, I re-ventured into radio. As a reporter. Then, I learnt, that this is not an 8-5 job. Actually, I was working 9-9. With two young children, and earning a paltry sum at the end of the month, no allowances whatsoever, no lunch. But I was on the airwaves. Better than dratted Radio Uganda.

There are the per diems, transport allowance, disturbance fees, blah blah blah. There is the free lunch, breakfast, cocktails, media bashes and drink-ups on rich men’s yachts, freebies like t-shirts, diaries, pens, up country trips- they will come up with practically anything and everything under the sun to see that we are in their pockets.

Today, one of these “agencies” has the nerve to call the Editor and demand to know what time the “story” ran (most probably some PR something). And you ask, “do you own this radio station?!” And they go like, “But we paid your reporter!” I am like “What??” “Yeah, we gave him 10,000 shillings!” God!