Lifestyle

Losing Brooks cuts too deep

Brooks
 
Brooks

The pain hit me so hard when I first heard that Brooks Monnanoka is dead.  I got to learn about his passing via SMS.  The person who told me said that she did not know how to tell me, as she knew of my relationship with ‘Brooky’, what some of us who worked with him would call him.

I first met Brooks in 1991 when he joined Radio Botswana as an announcer. I had already been with the station a year at the time. The announcers’ office was upstairs at the old building, which we now call the CKGR and it was a huge hall with many tables and chairs, which we were allocated.

Brooks settled in well because we were quite a great bunch and always made someone new feel at home.

Brooks settled into radio so well where he used his vast experience from disc jockeying (DJ).  He knew so many songs it was unbelievable. 

Radio was indeed his destination.  I learnt a lot from Brooks, especially the selection of songs if I was on air.

To me Elton John was synonymous with only one song Sacrifice, but Brooks taught me that Elton John had other beautiful pieces like Daniel, This Is Your Song and a wide range of other songs.

 During our time as radio announcers we were compelled to have signature tunes, which according to our bosses, were meant as identification for our esteemed listeners to know who would be coming on.

The ‘sig-tune’ as we called it was not supposed to be played to the end. Brooks chose a beautiful song by Linda Rondstat. I tried to talk him out of using that song as a sig-tune so we could play it on radio, but he flatly refused.

We had arguments about the song and there were times when I would not talk to him for days because of the song, but he did not care because he would ignore me.  It would happen until I came back to him.

He eventually chose a sig-tune for me – Red Ground by Eric Gale and believe me it is a very nice tune.

Brooks used to call me to the listening room so we could listen to new releases.

Brooks called me ‘Mmaspherere’ because he I pestered him by always insisting on what I wanted and getting it.

I detested the name at first, but eventually he wore me down with it.

He even called Lesego Kgajwane ‘Pinkinyana’ because of her light complexion and up to this day the name is stuck with her.

We did a Radio Intermediate Course together in 1994-1995.

And that was the best time I had with Brooks.  Our course instructor was Rashid Meer (deceased) from Durban. Brooks and Meer hit it off on the very first day they met.  Both loved their cigarettes.

Brooks and I used to go and while away time at Meer’s room at President Hotel everyday after class. They would sit together and smoke while the rest of us enjoyed a glass or two of wine.

Oddly Brooks and I would dodge Meer’s classes, sometimes we would not return after lunch and wait for him (Meer) at the hotel.

Imagine waiting for someone whose class we were supposed to attend.

Despite missing the classes we passed our course not because Meer was our friend but because we studied hard.  We did not want people to laugh at us as we used to bunk the classes.

One day Brooks told me not to eat the usual magwinya and piece of chicken from Kings’ Restaurant in the Main Mall because we were going to lunch elsewhere.

I told him it better be cheap as I was flat broke.

He simply dismissed me and by lunchtime a friend of his picked us up.  We drove to Gaborone Sun and honestly I was just waiting to see what was going to happen.

He told me to follow him and we went to the restaurant and he told me to follow him yet again.

We joined a queue and when it was our turn he told me to select a variety of meat ranging from chicken, beef, ostrich, and pork.  We placed our order with the chef and went to sit down.

Placed before me was the best dish ever.

He told me it is was called Mongolian dish. I ate it but at the back of my mind had prepared myself to wash Gaborone Sun dishes, as I believed the meal was very expensive and there was no way we could afford it.

But Brooks paid and we went back to the office.

I was lost for words and did not know what to say.

The first time I went to Bull n’ Bush was through Brooky as well.

He took me there one Monday evening and I never looked back.  It became our tradition to eat at Bull n’ Bush every Monday if one of us was not on air or on assignment. That was Brooks.

 During our time Club Take 5 in Mogoditshane was the in-thing as they played oldies music.  The first time I set my foot in the club was with him. After work we chilled at President Hotel. This was our regular drinking hole.

Brooks told me we are going to the club thereafter and we did.  Being famous had its ups and downs, but this time around it paid off that they did not have to pay to go into the club.

Hardly an hour later I told him to find one of his friends to take me home - there were no cabs then.  He thought I was joking, but I insisted and eventually he gave in.

He managed to find me a lift to get me home, but not before he gave me a piece of his mind.

The truth is after drinks at the President Hotel I was really tired. 

Brooky was not happy about that and told me in straightforward terms that he would never take me to Take 5 again, but that was just a lie because the following weekend we were right back at the same club.

There were times when Brooks could be all quiet and I could pester him and ask him if he was okay.  He would always say he was fine.

This could go on and on and eventually I learnt to give him his space whenever he was like that. 

Still he would want me to go out for lunch with him and you can imagine being in the company of someone on silent mode.

He was my friend so I had no choice.

Some of my colleagues thought he was arrogant, especially if he went all-silent like that.

Brooks was a lover of fine things.  He was a classy, very neat and clean gentleman.  He had this pair of boots that had spikes on them and he told me they were very expensive, which I would downplay to get him off his high horse.

We had our share of arguments, but we always made up.

I recall when I was expecting my last-born, office rumour was rife that the baby was his, but we knew that it was nothing more than gossip. 

After I left radio, we kept in touch, but because of life commitments we hardly saw each other, but communicated a lot.

When we met we could talk and talk and reminisce about the old times. I remember seeing him at Nando’s in Palapye last year while I was waiting for my order. 

He was walking hand-in-hand with a pretty woman and when I realised he was about to pass by without talking to me I shouted at him and he said to the woman, “Honey this one is a crazy one.  Let’s go and greet her or else Nando’s will be on fire”.

In actual fact, he did not recognise me as my face was buried under a big hat and was hidden behind specs.

I loved Brooks so much. 

It will take time for me to really accept that he is gone.  But time heals and I know my God will help me through this trying time.

 

Rest in peace Brooky “Mmolaadira”.