By Benevolence Mazhinji
I feel an anxious anticipation as I try to capture the story of our newsroom and the myriad experiences the CUE staff have had this Festival. This is a feeling that has followed me since the day I walked into the first diary meeting. I think the question that we all carried in our minds was: “Am I going to serve everyone who has invested and relied on me with the kind of excellence that they hoped I would bring?”
For most of us, we have learned, that feeling never goes away, and neither should we try to get rid of it, but rather celebrate it as a reflection of the care and precision that we need to bring to our craft.
For our editors, this was an experience heavy with responsibility, deadlines and the invisible pressure of making sure that every student has a meaningful learning experience. This kind of responsibility was not only toward the students but also the general public, the funders, and the artists who depended on us to give them fair and balanced coverage.
Anthea Garman, one of the editors said, “You plan and plan, but there comes a moment where you feel like you’ve lost control, and then suddenly you arrive at end.” What follows is a sacred form of bonding that happens when people are working together and marching to the same beat. “It took me by surprise how much I loved working with the students and getting to know everyone,” said Aryn Guiney.
That sense of connection and discovery echoed through every part of the newsroom, beginning with the writers who shaped our publication’s voice. For Nomfundo Mbatha, seeing her article shared by the director of Sweetie Darling felt affirming. Karabo Matalojoe and Zezethu Mtlomelo spoke about the effort it took to wake up early each morning and how hard it was to pull themselves out of bed, and yet how determined they were to show up on time for diary meetings. Ndalo Mbombo, too, hadn’t expected the days to stretch so long, leaving home at nine in the morning and returning nearly twelve hours later in the evening.
If the writers gave us the shape of the story, the radio team gave it breath, moving through town with recorders in hand, catching voices in motion, and holding space for sound to speak. Tshepiso Tshabalala said that although “the deadlines were unrealistic, it is rewarding to see yourself actually meet those seemingly impossible deadlines”. Amahle Shosha talked the endless back-and-forth between venues and editing rooms, but that hearing your own work come to life on air was fulfilling.
As you can already tell, Cue was a constellation made up of many different departments, each orbiting around the same centre. Everyone who worked on this project can attest that it was a learning curve. For Chalotte Mokonyane, one of the photographers, that curve was learning how to capture movement and about the pride that came with seeing her work land on front covers.
The social media team also worked very hard to keep the conversation alive on the social media pages. “For me, I learnt how to edit videos to the tea,” said Zezethu Mtlomelo.
Through all of the early mornings, tight turnarounds and sudden changes, the newsroom assistants were the one who drove us to and from venues and waited patiently in their cars between shows and were often the last to leave when everyone else had already gone home. “I think I’d have to take a five-year break before I can do this again,” said Nicole Palmer.
Behind the scenes, the designers worked long hours arranging text and images, making sure each page looked clean, clear, and aesthetically pleasing for the readers. “With each day, I got more familiar with using Adobe Indesign, which made the deadlines more manageable and I would absolutely do this again,” said Goitsimang Moshikaro.
Now, as I sit with all of these voices, I realise that what we built together wasn’t just a newspaper. It was a space where we grew, stumbled, and made something we could all be proud of. No one leaves this kind of work untouched. We were stretched, yes, but we were also shaped — by the pressure, by the pace, by the people who stood beside us.
And maybe that’s why it’s so hard to let go. Because this wasn’t just about learning how to report, or take pictures, or design a page. It was about learning how to show up again and again. And now that it’s over, I feel it too, just like Zezethu said: I don’t want it to end, but I do.
