I was on deadline when I was asked to take a call at the desk of the Chief Sub when I was the editor of the Cape Argus, circa 2012. I didn’t usually take calls between the deadlines of the City Late and Late Final editions of the paper but this time I made an exception.
It was because my personal assistant told me it was Eusebius McKaiser on the line and that he wanted to speak to me urgently. At the time, Eusebius was writing a column syndicated in our group and I remember how I admired his very refreshing and candid takes on race relations, politics and South African society in general.
I greeted Eusebius warmly, careful to hide my fanboy disposition. But there was no need for that because the young guy I was about to meet telephonically was hopping mad about our City Late edition carrying some pretty violent images taken at a protest in a poor rural community.
He was eloquent and articulate – just like his columns. But his question to me made me very uncomfortable: ‘Would you have portrayed people from an affluent area in the same undignified manner with such images?’
He was right. I listened to the young man despite my ego initially dismissing him as an upstart know-it-all. We changed the front page for the Late Final edition and his words stayed with me every day as an editor since that call. It was the beginning of a long-distance friendship during which mutual respect was earned.
I didn’t always agree with Eusebius’s takes on life. But he could never be accused of being a fence sitter and quickly became an important voice in the South African discourse – loved as much as he was loathed. The latter, I suspect, by people who did not want to know the truth.
His most astute social commentary however was reserved for all things related to race and racism in South Africa. He wrote books about the subject we have side-skirted for so long as South Africans since the birth of our ‘Rainbow Nation’.
In my favourite of his collection of books, called Run Racist Run, Eusebius picked apart the micro-aggressions we as people of colour are often gaslit by. The type where you’re told to get over it, stop playing the race card and get chided for getting angry. He boldly went to the road less travelled and offered critiques on the non-violent but all too familiar areas of structural racism that black South Africans found themselves in.
It was genius and profoundly shaped the way I defined myself in both my professional and private life; that while I was coloured with all the culturalism that came with it, I was politically black.
Eusebius even had advice for the white allies against racism and how not to burden the black victims of racism. And he sketched out the different levels of privilege that black and coloured people had by comparison during apartheid.
Imagine my surprise when he chose me to moderate the Cape Town launch of Run Racist Run. He was very complimentary about my own book Hack with a Grenade – An Editor’s Back Story of SA News in his role as a book reviewer later. Anyone who knew the man knew that Eusebius didn’t just dish out superlatives. It had to be earned and his opinion of my work was most treasured.
But to just call him an author would be a great disservice to his short yet powerful legacy. He was a debater of note (a master debater I would call him and he would erupt in giggles). He was a radio talk show host extraordinaire. He also dabbled in current affairs on his own show on the country’s leading TV platforms.
Eusebius also influenced opinion on social media – where he received much hatred on Twitter. He was proudly queer and would be an advocate in this space as well, making others brave enough to speak up too.
He would call me privately sometimes and offer counsel on how to handle responses to my social commentary on Twitter. It was gladly received and eventually, he and I would both turn our backs on a platform we once spent countless hours of our time on. Neither of us were made of Teflon. On the contrary, Eusebius was a warm, caring and gentle soul who was there for his friends.
We were the same age but Eusebius had a massive influence on my career as a newspaper editor. As a peer, he made me see things from a fresh perspective and allowed me to be brave because he so brave. It was partly his influence when I gave students a voice during the #FeesMustFall in the Cape Argus by letting them co-edit the paper. He was right there to doff his hat too when we gave homeless people of Cape Town a voice in the newspaper.
News of his death came as a huge shock to me on Tuesday. His wisdom will stay with me for a lifetime. His life may have been cut short by illness but he will remain an important voice of our times for many generations to come. Rest easy, my friend.
— Gasant Abarder
Abarder, who recently launched his book, Hack with a Grenade, is among the country’s most influential media voices. Catch his weekly column here.
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Picture: Gasant Abarder