Tuesday, March 30, 2010


With less than 75 days left to the First ever World Cup on home soil, we can only get more excited.  This song by Akon featuring Keri Hilson epitomizes how we feel about our country and continent...OH AFRICA

Tuesday, March 23, 2010

The ‘Walking Testosterone Of Intelligence’ Is Actually A Nice Guy

Thuto Mashegoana

So the first term of my university life is almost over and I must say that it has been interesting meeting fellow classmates and lecturers. There is one lecturer who stands out though. I will never forget the day he walked into class.

“I cannot over emphasise the need for you to acquire new knowledge quickly,” he explained the first day he walked into our classroom. I’m sure most journalism students remember these words from dark, broad shouldered, bald headed, intimidating looking and weird bearded Mr. Gideon Mumeson Tebid. Yep he is all those things in one!

Okay so there we were attending his first lecture and he walked in and stood in front of the obstreperous class with a look that said ‘you do not want to mess with me’. Ultimately the students got the message and settled down.

He proceeded to ask us to introduce ourselves. He then asked what we would like to be taught. One of the students said she would like to be taught in any way as long as the lecturer is wearing a smile on his face. Well Mr. Tebid was not smiling – so I guess this would be hard criteria to fulfill. His response was to explain that he could not walk around smiling about nothing - which actually makes sense because if he walked around smiling for absolutely no reason at all he would look stupid and not like the walking testosterone of intelligence that he is.

It was then time for some motivational speaking from the seemingly hard guy. He told us about how we can learn to become champion journalists which worked in inspiring everyone to become a walking testosterones or oestrogents of intelligence using the five simple steps - IRUIR [Impact, Repetition, Utilisation, Internalisation and Reinforcement]

Now most, if not all, students will agree with me when I say that beneath that big bad guy image he tries to portray Mr. Tebid is actually quite a nice guy. I think we are going to have pleasurable two years with him. As he would say “knowing how to learn fast is the key to personal rapid growth as a budding journalist in contemporary South Africa”.

Wednesday, March 17, 2010

Thursday, March 11, 2010

My Friends Say This is Where “He” Comes in for US!

Pearl Nicodemus

How thin is the line between mutually beneficial relationships and using someone? ‘Win win’ situations, where do you draw the line?

Being far from home becomes extremely frustrating when one starts running out of money, food, airtime etc. Apparently this is where “he” comes in. I met a very nice gentleman who is a part of the Res Committee through my roommate. We got along quite well, he visited our room from time to time and I made nothing of it. One day one of my roommate’s friend insisted that he likes me. Well I told her she was seeing things because the thought hadn’t crossed my mind. She continued with the allegations, I continued to deny it until his casual visits turned into a daily routine. It then became very obvious and I could no longer run from the truth. My roommate and her friends seemed to be very excited about this despite the fact that I was nowhere near interested. They then began to show me the reasons why dating him would be such a bonus for US! 1. He has a fridge... that actually has food. 2. Money. 3. Oh I’ve already mentioned the fact that he has a fridge. The list went on and on. 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, oh and 10. He’s actually very sweet.

All of this was happening at a time when I was in a very tight financial corner but honestly the thought of deceiving someone for my own benefit made my stomach turn. I was desperate at the time, I needed to go home urgently but using somebody goes against everything I believe in. I made a decision that I will drink tap water until I buy my own fridge.

Our honourable guest Mahlatse Gallens who visited us a week ago made a powerful statement. She said “no story is worth your soul”. The word ethics in the field of journalism is as common as ‘sphatlo’ in Soshanguve. You cannot separate the two. Ethics is defined as standards of right behaviour or moral principles. That incident got me thinking - ethics are more than just rules of right and wrong that you only apply in the field of journalism, they are principles; fundamental beliefs that transcend text books and learning material. They are the base of who you are.

So if you have no problems with using people for your own convenience or to get ahead in life, do you honestly believe that you will turn down a bribe for a good story?

I’m not a politician, but a victim

Sinazo Tshingana

Before coming to Pretoria I had these beautiful visions about university and what it is supposed to be. I completed my application, went to write admission tests, did interviews and was accepted by the journalism department at the Tshwane University of Technology.

The December holidays then became a bit too slow as I could not wait to leave the town and move to the big city.

When I arrived in Soshanguve ,I then found temporary residence in the Soshanguve North campus of TUT. At first everything seemed to run smoothly and then I found something I am not used to in my small town – student riots.

The way it started was reminiscent of the riots that took place in 1976, not that I was there. Everything was fine and then one evening I heard some noises around Alex Park.

I’m a student journalist and so naturally I am a nosy person. I went there to see what was happening and then a scene from a movie about apartheid is South Africa was playing out – at least it seemed like it. I found a group of students singing political songs at the top of their voices.

At first I enjoyed listening to the singing. I didn’t understand what it was and the reasons for it. Then it all became dramatic. The singing just changed and it became a bit violent. That is when I realised there was something more to this and I could not listen to it anymore. I ran back to my residence where I thought I could find shelter.

The days went on. They became violent and I ran like a headless chicken whenever they came to our campus. I was scared now.

The lectures and all orientation programmes came to a halt as the rioters started burning car tyres all over campus. They also started littering, kicking rubbish bins and made sure that no one dared to say anything to them as they were waving big sticks around.

The police came to normalise the situation but they too failed. Then one Saturday we were chased out of campus. I had nowhere to go. University wasn’t so cool anymore.

When they protested, I didn’t march along. When they shouted “M’Afrika!”, I didn’t say “Izwe-Lethu”, when they became violent, I ran for my life. But when the campus management opened a case against them I was affected. All I wanted was a higher education.

I am not a politician, but a victim.