Gasant Abarder reflects in this new #SliceofGasant column on the indelible legacy of the late Jermaine Craig and his historic contribution to sport and media that made him not only a remarkable Capetonian but a South African we can all try to emulate.
Even after attending Jermaine Craig’s memorial service at St George’s Cathedral last week, it still doesn’t feel real. The former editor of the Cape Argus was laid to rest the weekend before and while writing this I still didn’t want to believe.
Jermaine and I go way back. In 1991, there was a hierarchy at Salt River High when you could still get your head flushed in the loo as a Standard 6 freshy. A few of the senior high schoolers would take the trouble to make you feel welcome but for the most part it was a harsh entry into big school. Jermaine was one of these kind souls.
It was the year I was bullied too by a Standard 7 boy who didn’t like my face. I used to run for my life as soon as the bell rang until my cousin found out and ended my bully’s torment one day after school.
Jermaine was in Standard 8 and came to introduce himself, got to know us juniors and even joined us for a game of footy or three on the school tarmac. The tall lad from Silvertown had this loping run with a wide gait that reminded me of 90s footballer Carlton Palmer. I took to calling him that and the nickname stuck for me.
When one of my classmates didn’t have a matric ball partner, Jermaine – by now doing his in-service training as an intern journo at a real newspaper – wasn’t big enough to don a suit as her date.
This kindness is what set Jermaine apart in some really challenging times.
Our paths would cross occasionally when we were both fully-fledged journos. I covered news in Cape Town while Jermaine in Joburg was sweeping the boards at journalism awards for his fine sports writing.
We would meet up again as executives later at the then Irish-owned Independent Newspapers with Jermaine succeeding me as the editor of the Cape Argus. It was no mean feat for two young chaps from Salt River High. We were both keenly aware of the expectations as only the third and fourth editors of colour respectively of the newspaper in its almost 180-year history.
We lived through the Irish ownership and a local management who couldn’t see anything good in the achievements of black people. In fact, the Cape Times, they told us, had to have a white editor because of its readership and a brown person needed to be the Cape Argus editor because it had to reflect the readership.
Jermaine and I both disagreed with this pigeon-holing of readerships but instead of just learning the craft like I did, Jermaine pushed the envelope and introduced pages of a paper, with white conservative leanings, that made folks sit up and consider the dynamics of a divided city. Jermaine wasn’t afraid to go there. It was brave under an editor-in-chief who boasted Helen Zille would arrive at his doorstep at 5am at his house for impromptu visits.
When I again took over from Jermaine as editor, the gentle giant had transformed the Cape Argus, now under the ownership of Iqbal Survé, into its current format called a Berliner. It was lively, smart and thoughtful and made its readers feel aspirational. Jermaine wanted the luxury brands to advertise in the Argus and why not?
Jermaine’s bravery, now as the head of his own sports media business in the newly-named Independent Media under local ownership, gave me the courage to experiment with the Cape Argus and break new ground. He showed us all how to make money for an industry that was flailing and laid the platform for others like me to succeed – just like Moegsien Williams, the first Cape Argus editor of colour had kicked down doors for both of us.
But Jermaine was so much more than a media giant. As the media head of the 2010 FIFA World Cup, Jermaine helped create one of our finest moments as a nation. Under all this pressure, Jermaine remained my Carlton Palmer. We shared a gatsby on the very table where Saul Solomon counted his first few cents of profit for the paper in the 19th century as we dreamt of recreating a paper that had had lost its way over recent decades.
We dreamt of a different reality for our kids and the people of the Cape. But we both left quietly and frustrated. Our priorities changed and we strived to be fathers and husbands first. Even then, Jermaine continued to do great things for Kaizer Chiefs as a brand and was respected worldwide for his contributions to football.
I didn’t get a chance to pay respects to his wife Michelle and his boys Christian and Matthew, who were his entire world. In all honesty, I didn’t know what I’d say because I’m still expecting to hear Jermaine’s jovial voice on the phone, saying he is in town and can we meet up at Mariam’s Kitchen in St George’s Mall to shoot the breeze.
Jermaine’s influence will forever be etched in my consciousness – especially the idea that kindness also gets the job done. I miss you Jermaine – my friend, brother, mentor and confidant.
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Picture: Gasant Abarder