Last week, I learned with great sadness that Bafana Mahlangu is no more. I still cannot believe that Mahlangu is gone. The journalism community is poorer. And so is the nation and community of Mogale City. Death be not proud!
When I started to know him, he was working for Millsite Hospital (a psychiatric institution) in Krugersdorp. He lost his job and made end meet by repairing computers. Later he started shooting photos. A journalist was discovered.
He was a born journalist and found that out late in his 40s – better late than never. Mahlangu didn’t go to school to study journalism; he was a self-taught journalist – just like many black journalists in yesteryears.
He started as a freelance photographer (self-taught) for the Sowetan newspaper. When he became a permanent employee, he started writing human-interest stories. Then entertainment and book reviews. He was versatile but preferred soft stories.
In 2015, his hard work paid off: he was headhunted by the Sowetan sister paper, Sunday World. He continued to juggle photography and writing stories with great ease – and with a Colgate smile. That’s how committed and dedicated he was to his work.
Respect was one of his good traits, among many. He was a friendly, happy soul and always wore his trademark smile. His former colleague and book critique, Don Makatile, said he has never seen him in a foul mood.
Vuyo Jubasi, a friend, said he was addicted to Coca-Cola.
Mahlangu originated from Kagiso (from a section popularly known as Zulujump, whatever that means) and resided in Witpoortjie with his family. He was one of the few people from the area who have worked for a national newspaper.
He was a loving husband, doting father, patriotic citizen and a damn good journalist.
He will be sorely missed by his family, colleagues, friends and the community at large. Lala ngoxolo buthi (Rest in peace brother!).
