Engagement journalism in the age of smartphones

By Phakamisa Mayaba

‘No, no no! They’re not voiceless,’ asserts Ina Skosana, hands buried deep in the folds of her volumous weave in feigned exasperation. The ordinarily smiling face of the Health-e News editor is creased as she pans the room, as if to make sure that what she has to say next will fall on attentive ears. ‘We … just have the microphone.’

The community journalists (CJs) – all 16 of them – cogitate. Some nod, a few ‘aahs’ punctuate the conference room in Randburg, as the reason why they’ve been invited to this workshop begins to reveal itself.

As far as the stakes go, they’re nothing special. Not many awards amongst them. Few bylines in esteemed media. But here the foot soldiers – formally known as community journalists – are, thinking, engaged, and pondering if there is anything inherently worthwhile about their lowly cause. Or, for that matter, if they wouldn’t be doing the dependents a favour by ditching the whole freelance thing for a regular nine to five. Besides, why are they at it anyway? The honourable thing to do? To save the day? One thing is certain — it’s not for the money, because unless you’re Rian Malan or somebody, there’s isn’t much of it.

Plucked from across eight provinces and thrust into a media industry that is, by default, fast maligning the grassroots voice, systematically outrunning it out of the broader narrative, these people are the ones whose duty it is to ensure that the downtrodden are heard despite the changing landscape.

These are the people who go to places that are too far, too small, or simply not important enough for the big media. The ones who board a taxi to the squatter camp, tell the story of the ailing gogo who was turned away from the clinic without her chronic medication, or brace to meet the young tik addict who was once a hopeful student.

It would be pretty costly for, let’s say, Daily Maverick to fly a hack over to Giyani. Giyani, dude — I mean, could you point it out on a map? Just one of those remote outposts in Limpopo, a place Israel calls home, where he writes mostly about service delivery issues. He’s not really blowing his own horn, but believes that before he started writing for DM, local politicians were often taking residents for a ride. The usual impunity. No accountability.

Then word got around that Israel had penned an open letter on the DM website, and he became something of a local hero, the sort of guy they readily wanted to vote onto a ward committee. But he is still  deeply invested in publishing stories about the small town of his upbringing. And officials are well aware that he’s the nosy guy who’s always sniffing around at the slightest hint of misgovernance.

Bernard Chiguvare brings the daily struggles of rural communities into sharp focus. Phumzile Mkhungo is a restless crusader in KZN, Molefi Sompane in the Free State. The network stretches across the country, because Health-e News, like GroundUp or the Bhekisisa Centre for Health Journalism, has realised the importance not only of health and public health services, on which the nations poorest depend, but its social determinants.

Their scope of interest includes everything from housing to education, income, the environment, and so forth, because health does not function in a vacuum. Central to the mission is to equip the CJs with the skills to craft compelling, impactful stories that inform, engage and motivate the readership. They straddle a line between activists who advocate for social justice and journalists who report on issues of access that directly affect the communities in which they operate.

The publication’s managing editor, Bibi-Aisha Wadvalla, a real veteran, is a stickler for trends and shifts in the industry. From eNCA and the SABC to a long list of international publications, she’s been around for long enough to know that traditional media – in all its forms – are dying, and must embrace new ways of doing things.

From broadsheets to prime time news, the smartphone has taken over, and instead of turning on the television, people mostly turn to their smartphones to be kept in the know. Bet you had no idea that some 23 million people in South Africa use TikTok. This means that this is the territory journalists must now navigate in order to reach their audiences. So, gone are the days where the newshound stuck to a single discipline, like writing. Now s/he has to be the versatile, adaptable all-in-one who takes the pictures, edits the videos and writes the story.

Furthermore, what the literature suggests is that in the Gen Z era, text alone will not optimize a publication’s reach. For that, multimedia as well as the ubiquitous content creation have become the new battleground. Because the smartphone has reduced the ‘friction’ of accessing news in that it is no longer necessary to go to the store, pick out a paper, pay for it, and drive back home  before sitting down to read it. Now, you can simply ‘listen’ to the article while doing the chores.

This is the direction taken by established media houses where stories are often accompanied by video or audio material. For community journalists in small or rural communities, this is a game-changer, potentially capable of giving them a reach that was virtually unattainable in the time of traditional media and hard copy.

For Health-e News, the core idea is to humanise the media, framing concepts like inequality not just as a statistic but the real face of, let’s say, the shack dweller waiting for the day he or she might finally have access to dignified housing. Stories about real people with real worries, who are wondering who will have their best interests at heart in the upcoming local government elections.

FEATURED IMAGE: The indie warriors … Community journalists who attended the Health-e Newds workshop in Johannesburg. (Eparkeni)

This is an edited version of an article that first appeared on Phakamisa Mayaba’s website, Eparkeni. Used with permission.