‘Radio had a special place in our little lounge’
IN THIS 100th year of radio in South' Africa, a glossy 202-page legacy book has been published by Radiocracy. It was conceptualised and edited by Robin Sewlal, and he described the journey as fascinating. Apart from the listeners who contributed to My Radio Memory™, the collector’s item also includes stations that were on-air but are no more, like Radio Truro, as well as sidebars that include Kingsmead, which celebrated 100 years in 2023. Below are excerpts from the book...
DR BETTY GOVINDEN: Academic, researcher, author and poet
BEING an upholsterer, my dad acquired items like a sewing machine. His meticulous records show that he bought the machine in 1936, and paid monthly instalments for a year. Thereafter, he purchased a radio. This was in 1948. I was four-years-old at the time. My brother, Jonathan, recalls that the radio was obtained from R T Emmett and Sons Radio and Electric Shop in Rood Street, Stanger (now KwaDukuza). This shop is still standing, but the road is renamed Chief Albert Luthuli Street.
The receipt indicates that my dad paid two pounds, nine shillings and six pence as the first instalment for the radio. There were seven instalments altogether. I remember the day my dad brought the new radio home. It was quite a large PYE radio made of well-polished wood, and had a ‘porous’ upper half, covered with a soft surface. This, I presume, was to allow the sound from the radio to ‘percolate’. At the bottom were the very impressive magical dials that connected one to far-off places. My brother and I were delighted with this new purchase, but my mother was not pleased at this unnecessary expense.
My dad would wipe the radio surface, and look at it with much pride. It certainly had a special place in our little lounge. Homes in the barracks and in the plantation areas did not have electricity. The radio was powered by a 12-volt car battery. My dad had a very long bamboo pole attached to a tree in our backyard. The aerial wire was attached to the top of the tree and connected to the radio. The battery used to be charged at the nearby
Old Tea Factory:
When I was seven-years-old, we moved to Stanger. Our prized radio was among the special possessions that was transported to the new home. It was a wood and iron building, which was quite common at the time. We still did not have electricity, and no telephone. I studied for my matriculation using lamps and candles, and even when I went to university at Salisbury Island in Durban, I would complete holiday assignments using paraffin lamps.
My dad had the battery for the radio now charged in the town. My favourite station was LM Radio. I knew all the announcers, and they became household names. In secondary school ie. Stanger High, the principal and a few teachers took a group of girls on a bus tour to
Lourenço Marques, now called Maputo. I remember the highlight of our trip was a visit to the studios of LM Radio.
ZAKIA AHMED SIDDIQI: Content creator and broadcaster
Radio Truro commenced broadcasting in 1973. An on-air competition was held to find a name for the newly-born station. It generated a healthy response and Truro was chosen due to the history attached to it. The name of the ship that brought indentured workers to the country on November 16, 1860 was the SS Truro.
Being the first of its kind in this part of the world, the station became the ‘talk of the town’. The Casbah area of Durban was throbbing with the tunes from Truro. It almost immediately appealed to the Indian community which was starved of good music and entertainment. Even though the quality of the signal was not very good and that the station was on-air for only a few hours a day, Radio Truro created quite an impression.
The shows were not live. Presenters had them pre-recorded, and the recordings were taken across the border to Swaziland from where they were transmitted. The monopoly of the frequencies and licences precluded the station from broadcasting from South African soil.
When the station was on the lookout for new voices, I was fortunate to land a stint. It was 1981, and marked an exciting phase in my career as I soon became a permanent staff member. I was the youngest in the team and got my training from Zena Watkins, the manager of Radio Truro. Safee Siddiqi was also of great help. He was the station’s
salesperson and producer. Presenters doubled up as technical assistants for the newcomers. Kumari Ambigay was a strict teacher when it came to the pronunciation of Tamil words, Dr TP Naidoo was a Telugu expert, and Jaymathie Makanjee assisted with Gujarati. Sonnybhai Boodhram had a magical voice and style. Other personalities at Radio Truro included Goolam Majam, Julie Ally, Zuby Mohammed, Mo Surtee, Ketan Lakhani and Logan Govender (also an aeroplane pilot!).
DINESHA DEVARAIN: Cricket head coach
Many sponsors come and go, and use bragging rights for a while until the next one surfaces, but for me it will always remain ‘Kingsmead’. 2023 marks 100 years of existence and celebrations.
Many people, myself included, have had the privilege to work and watch international cricket at a venue so serene. We all have experienced memories and moments that shape world cricket for what it is today: the heavily contested matches, the greats of the game, surrounded by enthusiastic, ardent and knowledgeable fans, the ocean breeze flowing through the stadium, and the delicious food stalls that surrounds the action. My fondest memory of Kingsmead is the facility it provided me to be the person I am today. A platform that transformed my life, a routine of taking public transport three times a week to attend practice sessions of an international standard with state-of-the-art facilities, promoted my growth as a cricketer. Kingsmead was my escape, it was more than just
cricket, a place I could be myself, a place that was my therapist, a foundation that allowed me to grow as an individual, a sanctuary that I worshipped, a school that inspired me and allowed me to grow as the human I am today, an institution that educated me, and is the reason why I have a job today, and a place I call home.