The man in flames

Critical Arts, July, 2009 by Bhekimpilo Sibanda

He died in Johannesburg while working there. Please accept his spirit. Let it rest in peace.

These are sacred words, words that slice into your person, words that crash the boundaries between people and humanity in general. These are words which are said at a special place and at a special time to a special person. Because of their sacredness, in African tradition, they are not just said by anybody, but by those who are closest to the one so departed. They are meant to connect us, those who remain, with those departed and beyond. For those who believe in prayer, this is a solemn prayer, not only for the one so departed but for forgiveness for those who killed him in cold blood. In anger, these words could be reversed to 'do not sleep, wake up and fight for yourself. Fight these evil-doers.' In typical African humility, the angry words were not said. Well done, Sunday Times, well done Simphiwe and colleagues, for the 'News and Opinion' column of the Sunday Times of 8 June 2008.

Just a week ago there were criticisms about the use of Ernesto Alfabeto Nhamuave's burning figure by the media. Some commentators went so far as to criticise Simphiwe and his colleagues for even taking the picture. On this score, I was reminded about Mohammed 'Mo's' depressing figures of the dead, dying and starving figures of children affected by famine in Ethiopia in 1986. Oh! How we (six of us, two Master of Letters and four doctoral Film and Media students [I was a doctoral student then, at Stirling University]) theorised, textbook style, about the ethics of showing those pictures. How we chastised Mo for feeding Western media only with negative images of Africa. But people were dying. Showing those pictures offended many, but also saved millions. Soon afterwards, we were onto one of the BBC's celebrated television reporters. Her 'crime' was that she had uncovered, for TV filming, the face of a victim of the Zeebrugge ferry disaster. The victim's privacy had been invaded, we thought. And we were right on that occasion, since uncovering the face of a shivering victim immediately after s/he had been pulled out of the water and had been covered in a blanket for warmth, did not help us understand either the cause of the disaster or its scale. To show the face at that particular moment, was unkind.

As we understood the 'man in flames' story from the media, Simphiwe and his colleagues received information from a young woman that a mob was burning someone, perhaps an immigrant. Simphiwe rushed there with the police, and indeed saw something burning under some clothes and a mattress. On pulling away the heap of clothes, a human figure--which had deliberately been set alight--was revealed and started moving. Simphiwe recorded this event for us. That Ernesto had been set alight, for no other reason than it was felt he did not belong, was ethnocentric and xenophobic, as many would like to say. It was a dialectic human act, in that it was perpetrated publicly by a faceless public in order to remain anonymous. The degree of anonymity was meant to be covered by the intensity of the fire. Publishing the picture then was correct, in order to break the cycle of anonymity. Further, publishing the picture jogged those with a conscience to respond, and may have contributed, perhaps, to his decent burial.

Since 30 June is Independence Day for the Democratic Republic of Congo, may I apologise for using Patrice Lumumba's assassination as an example. We now know that Lumumba was brutally murdered in order to uphold neo-colonialism. His body was exhumed twice and finally dismembered before being obliterated with sulphuric acid. Imagine the impact it might have, if we could show the pictures today.

The point I want to make is that our interpretation of 'public' interest, individual privacy and other journalism textbook dictums for journalism needs to evolve with the times and context. The image of Chris Hani lying dead in his driveway has become, for many, not only a defining moment in South African democracy, but also a symbol of unity upholding the precious value of the independence of South Africa.

The problem for journalists everywhere in covering gruesome stories like these, is that they suffer from cognitive dissonance. They sometimes fail to comprehend that they are seeing what was not intended to be seen. This can disturb the mental and psychological state of the reporter. In some cases they become engulfed with guilt and are filled with the sense of: 'Perhaps I could have done more.' Sadly, journalism schools do not offer much on how to cope in these circumstances. We neglect to teach about the need for counselling after reporting on such events. However, it is necessary to acknowledge the moral dilemmas faced by journalists. When teaching investigative journalism, I emphasise the fact that no news incident merits a death. But for Simphiwe and his colleagues, this death was not their responsibility. The guilt belongs with the perpetrators. I am certain that by ensuring that the name of the 'man in flames' was found, and not only that, that he was taken home for burial, the victim's dignity was restored. The pictures used in the after-burial story are both dignified and comforting.