Black-out did Madiba no favours

Toby Shapshak: "Who wants to shake my hand?" President Nelson Mandela said, having walked through a crowd of school kids. Crouched down, taking pictures of the world's most famous political prisoner and now my president, I realised there was no else in front of him but us photographers. "I do," I said.

I stood up. He looked me in the eye, shook my hand and smiled at me.

I was surprised at how humble and uncomplicated he was in person. He wasn't interested in any of the fanfare, just meeting and talking to the kids. But I had met Nelson Mandela in the flesh and shaken his hand.

It took me a few minutes to regain my composure and take pictures of him again as he interacted with the kids at a community centre in Norwood, Johannesburg.

It was 1996. I was still in my first year of being a journalist, working for a community newspaper called the North Eastern Tribune. Meeting arguably the greatest South African, Nobel laureate and the world's most respected leader was an unexpected bonus.

Two years later, I would be lucky enough to shadow him whenever he was in Gauteng when I was a reporter for news agency Sapa. I would trail his entourage, follow him to business meetings at hotels, out to townships where he met community leaders.

It was called "Madiba duty" and it was one of the best jobs I ever had in journalism.

It was a different time back then, especially for technology. I had a cellphone only because I bought my own. My laptop was also my own (I've always been an early adopter) but wireless modems were expensive, complicated and slow.

Sapa was the lifeblood of the newspaper industry in more ways than the papers themselves would admit. Until its copy began appearing on websites, and before the internet took over as a delivery mechanism, the Sapa terminal in the newsroom was principally a tip-off service.

Sapa covered stories many newspapers didn't, often in case something happened. There were many times that I was the only reporter there. My most important tools were my notepad, my cellphone, and the ability to dictate a story while driving (and my contacts, of course). Sapa had no photographers so, unlike my colleagues on newspapers who always travelled with one, I had to drive while filing a story.

I was reminded of those days this week when I took emergency rations to my friend Phillip de Wet - the hardest-working reporter in the country and co-founder of The Daily Maverick - camped outside Milpark Hospital.

The tools of the trade are light years down the line. The average reporter has an internet-enabled smartphone (used for tweeting and sending pictures), an HD-video-capable camera, a laptop or netbook with 3G dongle, and lots and lots of chargers.

Foreign TV crews are like self-contained military missions, with generators to power their satellite-dished vans, lights and equipment. No professional photographer has less than two long-lens cameras, and a laptop and a 3G connection to upload pictures within minutes. Back in my day, a driver would pick up rolls of film and hurry them back to a newspaper for processing and printing.

Unfortunately, Mandela's foundation, the ANC and the government have not kept pace with the way the world works and the two-day blackout on information did the great man, and the situation, no favours.

All-day news channels, as well as Twitter and SMSs, were starved of any real information and rumours abounded.

Thankfully, the technology might have changed but what hasn't is how much the world admires - and loves - South Africa's greatest man.

• Shapshak is editor of Stuff magazine