BEHIND THE NEWS | Bittersweet justice, Granny Grommets, Luvland and a miracle made my year

This is my third year in journalism and by the end of it I am exhausted. 

In many ways, it’s a good thing, a sign of hard work and being human.

This year, the stories I wrote swung from tragedy to triumph.

Because we have reached “Dezemba” and are on the cusp of ruminating over New Year’s resolutions, here are some of the stories of 2024 that cracked open my senses, challenged my skill set and made me a better reporter. 

January: Two men involved in a shooting that left East London K9 WO Pieter “Swanie” Swanepoel permanently disabled in 2021 were found guilty.

In 2022, one of the first stories I ever wrote for the Dispatch was about Swanepoel’s recovery.

I watched nurses form a line of honour as he left St Dominic’s Hospital — they wept, sang hymns, clapped and cheered.

Outside, about 30 family members and friends waited at the doors as he was placed into an ambulance that would take him into rehabilitation.

A close family friend said: “The doctors gave him 48 hours to live. He is now on 1,480 hours.”

When the two accused were convicted this year, it felt like bittersweet closure.

February: Dispatch business correspondent Ted Keenan and I had great fun writing about the sudden appearance of posters featuring sensual lips in Berea, promoting the Luvland Adult Fun store.

Ted tackled the business of pleasure; I reported on the “gasp and shock” comments of East Londoners.

I don’t think many people can genuinely say they visited an adult toy shop with a colleague for work purposes.

I was the one who was pink in the face; Ted (aged 75) spoke to the assistants about recording a podcast, a true professional. 

Needless to say, the two women checking out the plastic gadgets on offer were not willing to speak on the record. 

Also in February: Greensleeves Children’s Trust was devastated when a contractor, who was paid R97,000 of donated funds to install a swimming pool on the property, gouged a hole in the ground, slapped some cement in it and vanished. 

This December, I got to watch the children in Greensleeves’ care — most of whom are abandoned, abused or orphaned — squeal and splash in a sparkling blue pool, graciously rebuilt by anonymous donors.

There is hope out there, oh ye of little faith. 

Also in February (yoh, pop off Feb): A high-speed chase turned into a shoot-out and collision near the on-ramp to the N2 in Beacon Bay.

A stolen vehicle, fleeing private security operatives, smashed into a taxi; video footage circulated of shots fired between suspected hijackers and the police.

Photographer Sino Majanzaga and I cowered behind a white bakkie, instructed to duck by the police because a gunman armed with an AK47 was believed to be hiding in the bushes next to the road.

Below us, about 100m down the underpass, a Land Cruiser hung nose-down on the railing. A man lay cuffed underneath, his head swollen and bleeding.

March: Enter the Granny Grommets! East London’s over-50s hit the waves for what has become a widely popular Friday boogieboard session.

The collective started with more than 90 retirees or semi-retired people, decked out in colourful cozzies, rash vests and wetsuits.

And the movement is growing — the Nahoon GGs inspired the Port Alfred GGs, and they all have a logo, a vibe and a great time. Sorry boys, this one’s for the ladies. 

• Some time in the year, I got a new surname, a consistently misplaced hyphen in “Karoo-Loewe”. I am not so esoteric that I’d marry myself. 

I wish I could recount all the stories that inspired, shocked and burned themselves into my retina — but I’ve reached my word count and I’m late for a book opening. 

If you have an online subscription, it would be a fun and eye-opening experience to scroll through this year’s Dispatch archives.

Pick your favourite journalist, put their name in the search bar and take a look through their year — it’s a timeline of the city. 

Because if it wasn’t in the Dispatch, how would you know about it? 

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