In 2015, with my undergraduate degree from the Durban University of Technology in hand, I returned to Zimbabwe filled with hope.
My vision was clear: I wanted to reshape the media industry, to tell stories that mattered, and to be a force for positive change. I was young, eager, and optimistic.
What I didn’t foresee was how much my journey would be defined by challenges I was not prepared for.
The excitement I had to contribute to my home country’s media landscape was quickly dampened.
I realised how drastically different Zimbabwe’s media environment was compared to South Africa’s.
Fitting into an industry so tightly controlled by the government was like squeezing into a jacket three sizes too small—it was stifling.
Media freedom was an illusion, and I learned this bitter truth in ways that would change my life forever.
August 3, 2016, will forever be etched in my mind. It was a day of profound personal loss, not just for my equipment but for my sense of security, my sense of self. I was covering a peaceful protest in Harare when police descended on the demonstrators with tear gas.
Amid the chaos, I was singled out, beaten, and had my camera stolen by the very people entrusted to protect the public.
I tried to explain that I was a journalist doing my job, but my words fell on deaf ears. In that moment, as I was struck repeatedly, I felt my dreams collapsing around me.
I vividly remember the agonising walk to the police station, less than two kilometres, but it felt like a lifetime.
Each step was heavy, with a mix of shock, pain, and disbelief. By the time I arrived, hope had already started to fade. I went from office to office, trying to retrieve my camera, but no one could—or would—help me.
The loss was not just of a piece of equipment; it was the crushing of my aspirations and my faith in justice.
Even with the help of MISA Zimbabwe, our attempts to recover the camera proved futile.
The feeling of defeat was overwhelming. It was months before I could even think about returning to journalism.
When I did, I turned away from politics and current affairs, seeking refuge in the arts, entertainment, and development communication.
Yet even in those spaces, the long arm of repression found me.
Reporting on sensitive issues like child abuse attracted unwanted attention, putting my colleagues and me under surveillance for what the authorities deemed “detrimental to the state.”
The emotional toll of witnessing these injustices began to weigh heavily on me.
Every time I told a story of suffering, every time I delved deeper into the trauma of others, I felt a part of myself unravelling. What started as a passion—to give voice to the voiceless—had become a source of deep pain.
Journalism had turned into a double-edged sword: one side ignited my drive to expose the truth, while the other slowly chipped away at my own sense of safety and well-being. It was as if, with each story, I was absorbing the grief of those I reported on, leaving little room for my own healing.
My story is not unique. Across Africa and indeed the world, journalists are facing similar threats. In 2024 alone, at least 61 journalists have been killed, and 320 were imprisoned just last year, with 67 still missing.
These are not just statistics; they represent lives, dreams, and families torn apart by the pursuit of truth.
My experience changed me but also opened my eyes to the pervasive danger we face in this profession.
Years later, I still flinch at the thought of covering protests or large crowds. I carry this paranoia with me like a shadow. It wasn’t until I connected with other journalists across southern Africa that I realised I was not alone in this.
We all carry scars—some visible, others deeply hidden—but what unites us is the silence surrounding our mental health.
Our newsrooms, strained for resources, rarely have the capacity to prioritise our well-being.
This is why I have turned my focus toward finding solutions. If we cannot always change the system, we must at least support those of us who work within it.
Journalists need safe spaces to discuss their traumas, strategies for self-care, and, perhaps most importantly, a way to heal from the scars left by a profession that demands everything from us.
These experiences do not just belong to journalists in Zimbabwe and southern Africa—they resonate across the globe. In the face of increasing repression, we must ask ourselves: How can we better protect those who risk their lives to tell the truth?
The answer lies not only in advocacy for press freedom but also in prioritising the mental health and safety of journalists.
Media organisations and newsrooms must begin to take the emotional and psychological toll on their staff seriously.
Journalists face traumatic events regularly, and without the support, many suffer in silence.
We need more mental health initiatives tailored to all journalists, not just those working in high-risk environments.
Press freedom advocacy should also remain at the forefront of global conversations. Challenging repressive laws and censorship is essential to creating safer environments for journalists to operate.
Furthermore, safety training for journalists must become standard practice.
Equipping journalists with tools to protect themselves while covering protests or volatile political events can make all the difference.
Finally, we need to foster global solidarity.
International organisations must continue to amplify the stories of journalists working in repressive regimes, ensuring their voices are heard and the truth is told.
By coming together and raising awareness, we can work towards a world where journalists not only survive but thrive in their pursuit of truth.
This fight is not just about the safety of the storytellers but about the right of society to know the stories that matter.
*Tendai Manyangadze is a PhD candidate at Rhodes University in the School of Journalism and Media Studies. His research focuses on the well-being of journalists in the Sadc region. Leveraging the media as a catalyst for change among vulnerable populations, his doctoral pursuit reflects a commitment to improving the lives of those in the industry. He aims to innovate solutions for challenges confronting media start-ups, journalists, and communities. He is affiliated with Chengeto Africa and works in the organisation’s media and communications department. He combines academic rigour with practical expertise to uplift the media landscape while championing sustainable media endeavours.
