Gathigira: Scribe with master touch who hobnobbed with elite

If there is a creature or entity that the journalist hates and fears more than the government, policemen, intelligence officers and media owners, it is the sub-editor. That is the heartless fellow wielding the metaphorical red pen that mutilates copy, introduces mistakes and unintended meanings and chops down lengthy masterpieces to meaningless one paragraph briefs.

Mathew Gathigira, however, was a sub or copy editor with a difference.

He did not just cross the t’s, dot the i’s, get bogged down with the minutiae of grammar, and cut copy to fit allocated space. He improved all copy he touched.

Mathew approached his editing tasks with a master craftsman’s eye for detail, like a sculptor lovingly taking a piece of roughly hewn wood and polishing it to perfection.

For him editing was not just some humdrum, mechanical task, but a labour of love, infusing every article he touched with his superior English language skills, as well as keen knowledge of almost every subject matter.

HID IDENTITY

He introduced depth and content, as well as his elegant turns of phrase, to the pieces he cleaned up.

It was while working with Mathew that I began to suggest that copy editors should not just be the unacknowledged drudges behind the curtains, but be fully recognised by sharing by-lines with the writers.

Some award-winning pieces subbed by Mathew actually bore more of his imprint than that of the writer who got all the glory.

Mathew Gathigira was widely acknowledged by those he worked with at The Weekly Review, Nation, Standard, Star and many other places as one of the greatest copy editors of his generation.

But beyond cleaning-up other peoples copy, he was also a prolific writer in his own right, churning out lengthy news and political analysis and commentaries.

For some reason, he never quite sought credit and recognition, hiding his identity behind various pen-names, the most famous being Matt Ndekere and Joe Adama.

Maybe that was one his many foibles.

NICHOLAS BIWOTT

The outgoing, gregarious fellow and lover of the good things in life was also an intensely private, almost secretive man.

He lived alone, leading a largely nocturnal existence but eventually retreating to an abode he never let anybody know.

At The Weekly Review, stories were told how after nights of carousing, he would call a company driver to take him home, but would invariably asked to be dropped off at a street corner rather than at his actual gate.

Colleagues used to wonder if that was a habit he picked from a closeness with the ultimate power man of President Daniel arap Moi’s era, Nicholas Biwott.

That was an association many of his friends found rather mysterious.

Stories were told how Gathigira would often saunter without an appointment into Biwott’s Ministry of Energy office at Nyayo House and immediately be ushered into the inner sanctum, by-passing scores of bewildered high powered politicians and businessmen who had been waiting hours to be granted an audience.

Not many of those who saw him jump the queue would have imagined that he was a ‘mere’ journalist, for his impressive girth and meticulous dressing marked him out as probably even more important and powerful personage than themselves.

ANALYTICAL STORIES

From early on, Gathigira loved frequenting the exclusive clubs and hotels in the city centre where cabinet ministers, top politicians, senior civil servants and leading businessmen wined, dined and cut deals.

With his dressing, bearing, confidence and general demeanour, he would invariably be welcomed with salutes by the doorkeepers otherwise trained to keep out the hoi polloi.

It was at those gatherings that he cultivated contacts and sources invaluable to any journalist.

He picked up tips and snippets of information that he often quietly shared with colleagues working on major analytical stories.

It was to his credit that Gathigira did not take advantage of contacts in high places to commit the cardinal journalistic sin of exploiting news sources for self-enrichment.

He lived a modest life, depending largely on his salary and some minor consultancy jobs that came his way.

UNCONVENTIONAL

Much-travelled across media houses in Kenya, the ultimate compliment for Mathew was recognition by his peers.

Though he led an unconventional lifestyle that often did not allow him to stay in the same workplace for very long, employers who showed him the door invariably forgave and recalled him because of the simple acknowledgement that the newsroom was poorer without his unique talent and skills.

Mathew mixed freely with the high and mighty, but he was equally at home on the other side of the world, moving seamlessly from wine and canapés at the Inter-Continental or Norfork Hotels, to beer and mutura at Modern Green, Reke Marie and other clubs in the seedier parts of Nairobi.

The backstreets of the city also played their role Mathew’s impeccable grooming.

CHEESE AND WHISKEY

For many years his first port of call on getting into the Central Business District would be one of the numerous barber shops dotting those familiar haunts, where his long hair would be neatly brushed back.

That was the same man who taught me that crackers and cheese do wonders to protect a delicate stomach when taking whiskey.

A little-known fact about Mathew’s early engagement with journalism is that years before he formally joined the profession, and even before he went off to university in Britain, he had a regular slot in Hillary Ng’weno’s iconic Joe Magazine, with a cartoon strip.

He was clearly a man of many talents.

[email protected]; Twitter: @MachariaGaitho