Bornwell Chakaodza, a truly gifted newsman

Obituaries
News of Bornwell Chakaodza’s death came as a crushing blow for me last week. Only a few days earlier, Chakaodza told me from his hospital bed at the Avenues Clinic that he was waiting to be discharged so that he could return home to prepare his weekly column for the Financial Gazette. 

This was on Monday, January 23, two days after he had been admitted. One thing struck me immediately: Chakaodza wasn’t his usual boisterous and jocular self – his voice was weak and strained and it was obvious he was in considerable pain.

I called him the following day to confirm that he had indeed been discharged, but there was no response to my call. In the past Bornwell, affectionately known to colleagues simply as BC, had never failed to return a missed call, so I waited for his response, but it never came.

 

The next thing I heard was that Bornwell had died on Tuesday morning at a private hospital where he had been admitted on Monday, exactly a week since I had last spoken to him.

Like many other colleagues who had known and interacted with him on a regular basis, I was stunned and speechless. By late Tuesday afternoon, news of his passing was on several online publications, with scores of friends and colleagues in the journalism fraternity expressing their shock and grief.

 

Many spoke glowingly of their association with BC, noting especially his ability to interact easily with people from different walks of life, regardless of their academic, political or social standing.

Many people who had known BC in his heyday and had met him recently expressed shock at the transformation in his physical appearance in recent months. A fighter to the very end, BC had refused to be grounded by the debilitating bowel cancer, diagnosed in 2008, that had stricken him.

 

At the time the disease was discovered, he had suffered severe abdominal pains, necessitating an emergency operation. I remember him showing me the scar, nearly a foot long,  running down from just below his chest to the base of his stomach.

The doctors told him they had found malignant cancer cells in the lining of the bowel which, if left untreated, could spread progressively to the rest of his body with fatal consequences. He was placed on a regime of chemotherapy, but this did not stop the cancer spreading.

 

After the first series of chemotherapy sessions, he went to South Africa for more advanced screening, but that again showed the disease was worsening. Although he remained cheerful and continued to work, it was easy to see that the cancer was taking its toll, leaving his body wasted and frail.

But ever the optimist, BC lapped-up every word of encouragement with avid appetite and I made a point of telling him each time we met that his health was improving. As someone who consorted with BC on a regular basis, especially during the period of his illness, I was often amazed at his resilience and ability to take the misfortune that had befallen him in his stride. I remember after an eye operation that resulted in the removal of his left eye, BC said to me: “My brother DK – you can not change what God wills. What has happened is done, and I have to live with it.”  Such was the man, philosophical even in dire moments such as this, and he faced the challenges of his condition with resolute stoicism.

Despite these setbacks  under which people of lesser resolve would have buckled and sought refuge in dejection and self-pity, BC, in his typical boisterous style, soldiered on, contributing unfailingly to his incisive weekly column in The Financial Gazette.

 

He remained active in various organisations including the Voluntary Media Council of Zimbabwe where he held the position of vice-chairperson and various school management boards to which he belonged.

I met BC for the first time in the early ’80s, shortly after his return from overseas studies when joined the now-defunct Zimbabwe Institute of Development Studies (ZIDS)as a research fellow. I was immediately impressed by his grasp of issues and his passion for the things he believed in.

 

We struck a friendship which was to lie in limbo for a long time while I flirted with the more lucrative field of public relations from mid-80s to mid-90s.

I did follow, with admiration, his progression from ZIDS to the highly visible position Director of Information, an assignment he undertook with considerable zeal. One of Bornwell’s enduring qualities was his effable manner and ability to be enthusiastic and passionate about most things he got involved in.

 

For this he was widely respected not only in political circles, but also in social, academic and civic spheres where he held various positions of influence.

In 1998, he was seconded to the state-controlled Herald as editor and managing director of Zimpapers’ newspaper division which included The Sunday Mail, Manica Post, Chronicle, Sunday News and vernacular weekly Kwayedza.

 

From our numerous discussions on his experiences in the civil service and later at Zimpapers, BC was always the odd man out — a fiercely independent personality, who became  increasingly disillusioned by the excesses of a state bureaucracy that seemed preoccupied with its own survival while pretending to be driven by public interest.

 

He became the proverbial round peg in a square hole, a relationship which was never going to last. BC soon opted out of that system, turning his back on the privileges that came with government office to become a full-time media consultant.

BC assumed editorship of The Standard in 2002, taking over from its founding editor, the late Mark Chavunduka.

 

In April 2003, he invited me to join the team on the paper and I vividly recall how he made otherwise dreary diary meetings lively through his humour. Under his able stewardship, the newspaper’s circulation figures soared from a few thousands to over 45 000, a feat attributed to his exceptional ability to motivate staff and build team spirit.

Another admirable quality of the late BC was his courage and passion for the good fight to secure the best deal for his subordinates. As Editor of The Standard, BC was not afraid to cross swords with management on matters he felt strongly about, including fair remuneration and conditions of service for staff, a crusade that endeared him to many of his subordinates. He was firm without being bossy or overbearing, intelligent without being arrogant and principled sometimes almost to a fault.

BC was truly a gentleman and professional —  a man of the people, some would say.  I feel greatly privileged to have known him. Rest in peace, brother BC.

 

BY DESMOND KUMBUKA