Great Teachers Don’t Teach

This past Wednesday on “World Teacher Day” we were reminded to celebrate teachers”. I’ve had many teachers in my life and I’m thankful for all of them particularly my grade one teacher Miss Masilela; I was as raw as a nerve coming into her class with not one ounce of pre-schooling –  a six years old, I didn’t know how to even imagine the spelling of my first name – totally clueless about writing anything. 

But today is about a teacher that I was to meet in later years of my life when ironically, my life revolved around writing. This teacher is named Donny Nxumalo; a teacher who didn’t teach.

It was last week on September 28 that I got the news that Donny had died (he would want me to say ‘died’ and not ‘passed on’ because that’s just Donny). 

Just a few days earlier my friend, a fellow journalist Brian and I, in a long telephone conversation spent a significant chunk speaking about Donny and how I’d been meaning to call him. 

I knew his number off by heart and had made a note to ring him after that long call on September 23. I got distracted by life and didn’t call that Friday evening.

About Donny Nxumalo

I first met Donny at the Swazi TV newsroom where we worked together for about two years before I left to study. In those few years I can safely say he was the person that taught me a lot about writing news stories.  

When I say taught please don’t imagine that he sat me down in front of a white board or teleprompter because good teachers are those amongst us who are great performers who tell stories that rivet their students' attention.

Great Teacher: Gifted wordsmith and skill journalist Donny Nxumalo from Swaziland.

I remember specifically the first day I asked Donny to review my English news script and it returned to me almost completely rewritten and with at least one new word that I’d never thought to casually use in a sentence, let alone heard of – ‘unprecedented’ was the term. It was a refreshing and simply written script that he presented me with. 

Mid-sentence to asking him what ‘unprecedented’ means I instead asked “What does Donny mean anyway? What kind of name is this? Who named you? Did you do it yourself…coming here with your big words?” 

He gave that same giggle when I saw him another few years later after a long time; laying in a hospital bed where he casually told Nomahlubi and I, “Batsi ngine TB fana…hehehe”.

That was Donny – at first his casualness about serious matters confused me. But after working with him travelling throughout Swaziland, I got to know a little bit about this old man as he always insisted, “I’m an old man surely you can’t expect me to be walking up and down covering a student protest”.  

He’s always had a thin frame that would easily deceive you about his age. I would have never believed he was old if his peers had not confirmed some of the youthful experiences they’d shared in their prime. When his teenage daughter came to see him at work a few times, I confirmed again that he indeed was an old man.

Live, Laugh, Teach, Rest

During the long news sourcing road trips, with the caution of a carefree child, Donny would idyllically share of tales of him as a horrible boss Editor at the Times of Swaziland. 

I loved listening to his tales; he always told them with a childlike tone and animated glee. He would laugh so loud about how it was the alcohol and dagga intake in his hey days “before Christ found me that made me so full of myself.”  

Traits of that boastfulness would reveal themselves when he’d joke seriously about a warning to be mindful of stepping on his big-brand shoes or sitting on his expensive jacket that he bought whilst still working in Joburg.

We last spoke on the phone sometime earlier this year and when I asked how he was, he did that thing again, “I nearly died of MDR-TB, and I’ve been in that hell-hole of a hospital Manzini all these months. 

Now they’ve given me these ARVs...and they need me to eat, I don’t know because I’m a broke-ass has been, you know journalists die poor …hehehehe”.

So what is the lesson you may be wondering?

It’s true that most of us journalists are infamous for telling stories about other people and none about ourselves, especially never the negative about us. Donny was maybe that typical journalist at some point in his life, I don’t know, but the Donny I knew taught me to be human first; tell your truth too because after all journalists are human beings.

It’s funny just recently I found myself responding to a questionnaire where I spoke of being in a male-dominated newsroom at Swazi TV. Donny was that male with the soft touch; always guiding one chuckle at a time. I’m grateful that he taught me of the power of being able to laugh at myself and keep it moving.

Donny had impeccable journalistic abilities and skills (although I’d always laugh at him for not having a voice for television), I’ll remember him not only for this but also for what they say about all great teachers; “Great teachers engineer learning experiences that maneuver the students into the driver's seat and then the teachers get out of the way”. 

Thank you for the example that you have been Mr. Nxumalo. I know you were tired and finally resting.