One of the many characteristics of a good leader is simplicity, respect, being humble and having time to listen to others, regardless of age. That was what most impressed me when formally introduced to veteran press photographer and anti-apartheid activist Bra Peter Magubane in 1989. ALSO READ: ‘Peter Magubane would not put his camera down despite attempts to break his spirit’ – Ramaphosa Sadly, he died on New Year’s Day. As a young journalist from the Eastern Cape, I had just come out of St Albans Prison, having served almost three years – held without trial by the PW Botha…
One of the many characteristics of a good leader is simplicity, respect, being humble and having time to listen to others, regardless of age.
That was what most impressed me when formally introduced to veteran press photographer and anti-apartheid activist Bra Peter Magubane in 1989.
ALSO READ: ‘Peter Magubane would not put his camera down despite attempts to break his spirit’ – Ramaphosa
Sadly, he died on New Year’s Day. As a young journalist from the Eastern Cape, I had just come out of St Albans Prison, having served almost three years – held without trial by the PW Botha regime, under the notorious apartheid-era state of emergency.
While I was all ears to listen to historic encounters from the legendary Magubane – who suffered more than me under apartheid repression, having used his camera to fight the scourge of segregation from the 1950s to a post-democracy South Africa – Magubane was initially more interested in my detention without trial experience.
“How was it inside?” he asked, referring to prison life. After relating every encounter, it was Magubane’s turn to share how he and his contemporary, Alf Kumalo, would employ every trick in the book to record state repression and tell the story at the risk of being arrested.
ALSO READ: RIP Peter Magubane: The lensman who fought evil
Whatever story Magubane wanted to cover, he would find a way, right under the nose of heavily armed police officers, even if it meant hiding his camera in a loaf of bread.
He always got back to the newsroom with an exclusive photograph. This was selfless, considering he could be detained, imprisoned or even killed without much recourse to the law, with almost all court benches staffed by white males who regarded anything against the state as amounting to terrorism. In the eyes of the regime, Magubane was “a media terrorist”.
Instead of being a happy snapper, merely covering birthdays, weddings and social events, Magubane’s lens recorded some of the worst atrocities carried out against black people.
Hosted by former CBS News cameraman Siphiwo Ralo at his Johannesburg home, I was honoured to spend time with a legend like Magubane, hearing how he managed to cover the South Africa story at a time when there was no hope the country – which saw successive white rulers taking turns to oppress the black majority – would ever be free.
One of my fond memories of this true gentleman was how he could easily mingle with young people like myself, also finding time to dance, listen to music, enjoy good food, wine and whisky.
Whether Ralo would belt out Hugh Masekela, Mirriam Makeba, jazz or African rumba sounds from his hi-fi, Magubane was never shy to be the first on the dance floor.
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Magubane, whose age qualified him to the salutation of Baba or Tata, was more than happy to be merely “Bra Peter”. In townships, Bras belonged to the older generation, but would be found easily mingling and sharing good times with people of all age groups.
Go to any township and you can sit around the fire with Bras, gaining knowledge on music, culture and the country’s history.
We learnt so much from him and hope that one day, a monument will be built for him, or a street or journalism institution named after him.
In his tribute to Bra Peter, Ralo could not have put it better: “Peter Magubane was a great storyteller of the human condition in apartheid era South Africa.
“His uncompromising images of squalor and of brutal conditions infuriated the regime.
“Bra Peter – as I fondly called him – was my dear friend, father figure and my ‘university of life’.
” You may be no more, but your spirit lives on.
