There was a time, at the height of her fame playing “the bitch” Ntsiki Luhhele in the hugely popular soap opera Generations that actress Pamela Nomvete enjoyed and soaked up the extraordinary celebrity and public recognition that came with playing the role.

Writing in her recently published autobiography, Dancing to the Beat of the Drum (Kwela); Nomvete explains that after landing the part in newly democratic South Africa in 1994, “I rose in about two years from being a no-name English actress to being one of the biggest household names South Africa had ever seen.”

Nomvete soon featured on magazine covers and was in constant demand for radio and television interviews. Of course one of the drivers and nourishment for fame and celebrity is indeed constant media attention – good or bad. The symbiosis between mass media and celebrity is one that is parasitic and complete in the 21^st Century where even a sardine, with the right agent and media strategy, could achieve this transcendent state.

For Nomvete, fame arrived with the inevitable financial success and of course the entourage of hangers-on and bottom feeders who are drawn inexorably to its warm and embracing light. It also brought with it the seeds of its own destruction – delusion and a special brand of social and psychological disorientation that often renders its recipient ultimately unhinged and detached from the demands and rituals of normal life.

Sycophancy corrodes the soul and mind, and to be constantly surrounded by craven fame enablers who magnify your self-reflection or nourish an inflated sense of importance deeply limits to the ability to function normally, as Nomvete soon discovered.

Within a few years she had lost all touch with reality, unable to judge almost any situation – from relationships to financial matters – from an objective or relatively lucid perspective.

Six years later Nomvete found herself a penniless and destitute alcoholic who was forced to live in her car before selling it to buy food.

But in losing everything, Nomvete finally found herself, and her candid autobiography offers a horrifying glimpse into the potential ravages of fame. Hers is a path that has been travelled by many celebrities – local and international – and there are many, many casualties along the way. Some are corpses but some have managed, with extraordinary tenacity, to rebuild their lives.

Fame and celebrity is a decidedly modern affliction. Before social media, it was often a state that was “earned” by those with obvious and exceptional talent through years of hard work. Eventually these actors, musicians, comedians, performers or athletes would finally make the one big “breakthrough”.

But we live in a narcissistic age of instant gratification and democratic technology with a voracious appetite for content – any content – and the notion of fame flourishes in this environment. This is why so many television “reality” shows exist and why they are hugely popular across the globe, attracting billions of viewers. It is why so many mildly and under-talented people believe that they deserve a shot at this ultimate state of existence. It is why YouTube exists.

But like Narcissus, so transfixed by his own reflection in a pool of water that he eventually falls in and drowns, fame exacts a terrible price from those who court it. It should come, like most medication, with a list of potential side effects and risks.

In 2000, US cultural critic, Cintra Wilson, wrote a hugely underrated and hilarious book, A Massive Swelling – Celebrity Re-examined as a Grotesque Crippling Disease, exploring the destructive modern obsession with fame and celebrity.

“You can hear the longing for fame in your stomach when listening to your favourite music; you can feel your spirit reaching towards your own ultimate greatness, and the intrinsic undertow of millions of arms reaching out to embrace you, begging for you to come into their love. Weeping to clap and scream for you. You owe it to yourself, you think. You owe it to the world to be immortal.”

It has become clear during evidence presented during the trial of Oscar Pistorius for shooting and killing Reeva Steenkamp that he suffered from the disease of celebrity, in spite of being a talented athlete. His expectation that he would receive preferential treatment, his belief that he is somehow “beyond the law” – speeding, firing a weapon in an urban area, possessing illegal ammunition – all points to this. And his underlying personal and psychological flaws, no matter their cause, exacerbated it all.

Reeva Steenkamp, who is now described on Wikipedia simply as “a model” was also attracted to the world of fame, publicity and celebrity. Steenkamp abandoned a legal career (she applied to the bar in 2011) – one that could have offered financial security – for the glamour and bright lights of modeling and reality TV.

While this in itself is understandable – she was a beautiful young woman – the world she entered enabled her to cross paths with fractured and delusional celebrities – this time in the titanic realm of sports – Oscar Pistorius.

Writer George Monbiot, in an extraordinary piece on the loneliness of the modern age published in The Guardian this week, referred to a recent survey in that country that found that the sole ambition of 40 percent of the children who took part was to be rich and famous.

How exactly they would accomplish this appears to be of little consequence or concern. In an age of social media it is easy to mistake a follower for a fan. And taking selfies can delude one into believing you have a personal paparazzo trailing your fabulous life.

Many parents today are aware of just how the pervasive the desirability of the celebrity lifestyle is and how it is presented as an achievable goal, particularly in America and the UK. It is a cultural export that is particularly attractive because of the promise it holds – to be seen, to be admired and to be known – not for your talent and who you are, but simply by being ubiquitous. Celebrity and fame are regarded as highly attractive and desirable attributes.

The quest for fame and celebrity is a modern malaise and for most of those seeking it or who believe it is owed to them, it exacts a terrible price. In the end, as Julius Malema is now so fond of saying, “nature hates a vacuum”. There is more than enough evidence through the ages that points to its poisoned embrace, and Nomvete’s book is one of many that provide ample caution. DM

Photo: South African newspaper posters are pictured in Pretoria as South African paralympic and Olympic sprinter, Oscar Pistorius appears at the Pretoria magistrates court, South Africa 15 February 2013. Pistorius has been officially charged with murder. He was arrested 14 February 2013 for allegedly shooting and killing his girlfriend Reeva Steenkamp at his home in the Silverwoods security estate in Pretoria, South Africa. EPA/STR