Orie Rogo Manduli, Kenya’s “woman of many firsts” whose signature gele – the Yoruba name for Nigeria’s artfully folded head gear – immortalised her on Kenyan screens and newspapers, died on September 9.
The news media’s tribute to Manduli provided a contrast on the yeses and no’s of obituaries.
An obit, as we cutely call it in the news production sweatshop, is a death announcement and short profile of the deceased, written out journalistically in a newspaper or online. It is different from a eulogy, the speech often in praise of the dead and which is typically read publicly at their funeral.
Here’s a look at how the Nation, The Standard and The Star wrote Manduli’s obit.
“Orie Rogo Manduli, Kisumu girl born to kick ass,” The Standard’s eyebrow raising heading said on September 10. The Daily Nation’s sister paper, the Business Daily, announced on the same day: “Orie Rogo: Classy lady who took no prisoners.” Two days earlier, The Star simply said, “Orie Rogo Manduli dies in Nairobi.”
Now, the obit is bookended by two basics, who died — name, age, date of death, cause of death (if possible), work, education – and who survived. She/he is survived by… is an efficient way of stating who is grieving. Everything else falls between these basics.
The Standard and The Star got the bookends down, but the papers differed in what qualifies for good journalism.
David Odongo’s opening in The Standard was the most pithy and informative.“Ambassador Mary Slessor Orie Rogo Manduli is dead.” There, revelation of Manduli’s little known first names. The writer in this well-researched profile will later explain that she was named after a Scottish missionary.
The intro continued: “The feisty rally driver, journalist, politician, activist and teacher who last month hosted family and friends for her birthday party died in her Riverside home as she waited for paramedics to take her to hospital.”
Except for the missing number of that last birthday, the story could as well stop.
The end did not disappoint, either. The writer dug up Manduli’s foster son, little known City businessman Gor Semelango, to give a memorable parting quote on how her mother’s no-mediocrity personality raised go-getters.
On the other hand, The Star’s lead said, “Veteran politician and former chairperson of NGO Council Orie Rogo Manduli is dead.” Shorty, tidy, dispassionate. Ten out of ten points.
But the writer, Allan Kisia, tanked the end. He wrote that Manduli and her first husband, Ondieki (writer didn’t research first name), were “blessed with three daughters: Elizabeth, Allison and Janice.”
“Blessed” is not journalism. “Had three daughters” is sufficient.
The Business Daily bungled both bookends. The writer, Sam Kiplagat, started off with a cliché: “A lot has been said about Orie Rogo Manduli. But her story can never be exhausted.” Zero information. A journalistic piece can’t survive that start.
The obit ended with the deceased’ property, namely, a 1,000-acre wheat and maize farm, a health products distribution business, and high-end residences in Nairobi. Wrong placement. Property does not grieve.
On cause of death, The Star told us that Manduli died from “undisclosed illness.” If that’s the only thing said on the matter, it typically tells you the writer was too lazy to research. The Standard offered more information: she battled cancer for years.
On the deceased’s age, Business Daily and Star said nothing. The Standard wittily justified the lack of it: “She never revealed her age, saying it’s a privilege women have since men also don’t want to be asked where they were when they arrive home past midnight.”
Between the bookends, a good obit should be a profile – anecdotes that celebrate the person’s life – not a dry biography. It should be more about how someone lived versus the fact that they died.
On this, The Standard scooped top points, too. While everyone regurgitated the refrain that Manduli was a woman of many firsts, Standard explained those firsts in pithy anecdotes.
She was the daughter of a headmaster who became a councillor, and a mother who, eons before women held professional jobs, was a college lecturer. So, it’s no surprise that Manduli would be first woman manager in companies where she worked.
As a journalist, she would interview Safari Rally drivers, and that’s how she “got bitten by the speed bug” and entered car racing herself.
Culture and Heritage minister Najib Balala would in 2005 try to kick her out of office at the National Council of NGO’s offices. And Manduli locked herself in the offices, living on fruits and juice for a week. Her tenacity got her to keep the job as first women head of the NGO council.
The verdict on writing obits? The Standard got the job done.
