WeeklySA_AdminTRIBUTE: The funeral of a respected journalist rekindles memories of The World newsroom, Malombo jazz nights and the golden football days of Pretoria Callies…
By Sekola Sello
On February 28, I attended the funeral service of Joseph Seshego Matthews Latakgomo, known throughout the country simply as Joe Latakgomo.
Latakgomo, who died at age 78, was a highly respected journalist. He was acting editor of The World newspaper when the students’ uprisings started in Soweto in 1976 and later spread throughout the country. This uprising laid the solid foundation that culminated in the negotiated settlement that ushered in democracy in 1994.
In recognition of his immense contribution to journalism and by extension the new democratic order in the country Latakgomo was given a special provincial funeral by the Gauteng government.
Premier Panyaza Lesufi paid a glowing non-political tribute at the funeral. Such was the stature of the man.
The funeral service was held at the Atteridgeville Community Hall. Ah! Atteridgeville, Pheli or Phelindaba to the uninitiated. This is the place I had not visited in over 40 years. To jazz aficionados, Pirara townships (Pretoria), in general, but Pheli – in particular – was the place to be in the 60s, 70s and 80s. I do not know if this is still the case today.
Pheli produced what, in my view, I consider the most accomplished jazz group in the country. This was the Malombo Band led by the inimitable guitarist Phillip Tabane.
As young and impressionable reporters Willie Bokala, the late Jeff Masekwameng and myself often accompanied Elliot “Guava” Makhaya around Pheli’s drinking spots. Those were the wild, wild days of wine, women and song. I think we were the poor versions of the legendary Las Vegas Rat Pack.
Makhaya, who hails from Pheli, was our senior at The World. He was Entertainment (Showbiz) Editor at the publication. I still cherish the day he took us to Tabane’s place in nearby Saulsville. I grew a few centimetres taller finding myself being served drinks by the guitar maestro himself. Tabane’s place was also a shebeen.
Latakgomo, unlike the jokesmith Makhaya, was on the reserved side and rarely accompanied us on these wild rip-roaring frolics.
Whenever there was a football match at the Super Stadium there was a scramble among us football writers at The World regarding who would be assigned to the game.
The local side Pretoria Callies played the most exciting football in the country and had a galaxy of stars with poetic nicknames. Patrick Molala, who later served time on Robben Island, was nicknamed “Let Them Dance”. Then there was Lucas Moripe who was called “Modimo wa Bolo” or “the God of Football”.
Moripe’s ball wizardry was second to none. Super Stadium has now been renamed after him. The friendliness and generosity of the people of Pheli was legendary. In this regard, it seems like not much has changed.
Latakgomo’s former colleagues from Soweto were invited for some drinks at the home of Advocate Nimrod Mbulelo Tantsi in Sekhu Street. Our motley crew was made up of myself, Bokala, former sports writer and sub-editor Bafana Shezi, entertainment writer Kaizer Ngwenya, Oupa Ngwenya and journalist-turned-academic Dr Phil Mtimkulu.
After a short drive from the Community Hall, we arrived at an unpretentious house in Sekhu Street. There was nothing that stood out about the house save for the fact that it was not like the ubiquitous match box houses found in all the townships from Soweto, Tembisa, Polokwane and Mangaung. The house was bigger.
Once inside the house one is transformed into a different world. We were ushered into a lounge room that exuded taste and class. The couches were obviously expensive without being ostentatious.
Once we had settled down, I thought that in typical Soweto fashion we were going to pass the hat around to make contributions for the drinks. Tantsi politely but firmly rejected my contribution.
Instead, he asked all of us his guests what we were going to have.
A few minutes later we had all types of beer. Heineken, Castle Lite etc. There was also a bottle of my favourite whisky Glenfiddich. I don’t know much about wine, but one precocious climber said the wine we had been offered was very good. I am inclined to believe him.
Fellow journalist and the guy who had hooked us up with Tantsi later told me that businessman and advertising guru, Groovin Nchabeleng had sponsored the beverages.
Nchabeleng is a different breed of a Shaker and Mover in Pheli. I was told by Makoe that he is very successful in the advertising industry and is an influential figure in BEE circles.
During our three-hour stay at Tantsi’s place Nchabeleng sat with us very quietly without being unengaging.
In the bygone era when I was a regular visitor to Pheli, the dress code among the smart guys was what we called the Ivy League. I did not see any of this among the mourners.
It seems the Ivy League dress code has now been replaced by quality but sober fabrics. Nchabeleng exemplified this. A cursory look at his black shirt and black paints showed subdued quality.
The talks among us from Soweto and our Pirara hosts were lively. They brought back memories of a bygone era when we were under the yoke of apartheid but refused to be a defeated people. We enjoyed life even under those difficult times.
When I wanted to relieve my bowels, Tantsi directed me down a short passage and said laconically, “enjoy your stay there”.
The bathroom was spotlessly clean. The bathtub and the toilet seat were not the sort you find at places such as CTM. As I plonked my backside and soaked in the ambience, I fully understood his remark. The Tantsis are a prominent family in religious and educational circles in Pirara and the Vaal Triangle.
As we left Sekhu Street on a rather gloomy and rainy evening, I almost shed a tear as I bade perhaps a final farewell to a place that had given me so much joy in my young life and introduced me to amazing friends such as Dinky Moropane, who died a few months ago, and journalist turned academic Dr Phil Mtimkulu.
