Online Reporter
Edwin Ndlovu, [email protected]
IT was on Saturday, July 4, as I was slowly making my way through traffic on my way to York House, where our driving school business is based, when my phone rang.
At first, I ignored the call.
I assumed it was my wife reminding me that my cousin, who was already at the office waiting to collect money towards her father’s tombstone unveiling in Inyathi, was becoming impatient.
When the phone rang a second time, I reluctantly answered. Instead of talking about my cousin, she delivered news that stopped me in my tracks.
“Ah, Mkhululi is no more. I am seeing it on the Chronicle Facebook page.”
Confused, I asked which Mkhululi she was referring to. I knew two people by that name at Zimpapers and both had obtained their driver’s licences through our driving school. My wife had interacted with both of them during their lessons.
When I eventually parked, I rushed into the office as though someone was chasing me.
There was an uneasy feeling building inside me.
The moment I confirmed that it was indeed veteran journalist Mkhululi Sibanda who had passed away, my heart sank.
Just a week earlier, I had spent time with him and he had shown no signs of illness.
What could have happened? I kept asking myself.
Unable to believe what I was seeing, I immediately called his colleague, Vusumuzi Dube, to verify the news that had appeared on the Chronicle’s Facebook page.
To my anguish, Vusa confirmed the passing of a giant in the media industry.
Mkhays, as he was affectionately known by colleagues and friends, was gone.A veteran journalist who was born 55 years ago, Mkhays served Zimbabwe’s media industry with distinction for three decades.
I first came to know him personally in 2008 after I was elected spokesperson for the Movement for Democratic Change (MDC) Bulawayo Province.
At the time, he was The Chronicle’s News Editor. My new responsibilities meant I had to interact regularly with him, the late senior journalist Dumisani Sibanda and many other journalists.
Although he was a man of few words, Mkhays and I gradually developed a friendship, even though our professional roles often placed us on opposite sides of issues.
Whenever I felt our stories had been reported negatively, I would challenge him about it.
He would respond with one of his trademark mischievous smiles and remind me that publicity was publicity and that, in the media, there was no such thing as negative publicity.
Ironically, it was because of him that I developed a deeper interest in media studies.
After completing my second degree, I discovered that he was already pursuing a Master’s degree. Inspired by his example, I followed suit and enrolled for my own postgraduate studies.
In fact, he was the one who advised me to diversify academically because of my political career. Taking his advice, I pursued a Master’s degree in Peace, Leadership and Conflict Resolution.
As time went on, we discovered another connection — we both hailed from Matobo District. That shared background strengthened our friendship even further.
I later assisted him in obtaining his driver’s licence.
Being the private and reserved person that he was, Mkhays did not want people to know he had acquired a driver’s licence. He wanted to surprise his colleagues.
On the other hand, I wanted to promote my driving school.
Against his wishes, I posted a photograph of him holding his newly acquired driver’s licence on my WhatsApp status. He was not pleased about it at all.
However, that single photograph ended up bringing more than 20 Zimpapers employees to our driving school, and most of them successfully obtained their licences.
Some jokingly remarked that if Mkhays had managed to get a driver’s licence, they certainly had no excuse for failing to get theirs.
If softness and humility could be embodied in one person, it would have been Mkhays.
He was remarkably calm, understanding and approachable.
Over the years, he mentored countless young journalists, generously sharing his knowledge and experience with the next generation of media practitioners.
He was a fountain of wisdom whose impact extended far beyond the newsroom.
Zimbabwe’s media landscape will never be the same without him.
Mkhays was also deeply committed to telling the stories of ordinary people whose contributions to the nation often went unnoticed.
Through his widely respected Sunday News column, Lest We Forget, he gave a voice to many liberation war veterans who rarely received public recognition, documenting their stories and preserving an important part of Zimbabwe’s history.
The nation has lost a veteran journalist who exemplified the highest standards of professional journalism.
You set the bar for journalism in this country exceptionally high, Mkhays.
Robala ka khotso Ntate Tau!
Rest in peace, 39.
A media giant has fallen, and he will be sorely missed.
