A smile for all reasons.
I smile a lot. A fact validated by people who tell me I remind them of the grinning yellow emoticon. And yes, it stems from happiness that never seems to leave me, a bright and shining candle within that has sputtered and dimmed during the dark periods of my life, but has never relinquished my heart to the night.
Maybe its because I inherited a good set of pearly whites from my parents, imagining a toothless smile less infectious or appealing to other people. But the truth is after thirty-fine years of existence I realize that my smile is a reflection of how I choose to live my life; believing in the primacy of good in all men and the stubborn nature of hope in all things that come our way.
And I honestly think it has done me a whole lot of good, waltzing through life like some haphazard comet burning with light, trying to make other people smile and coax laughter from their hearts. Call me a clown if you want, I dont care, I was built this way from the very start.
No, I dont consider myself a comedian. But neither ca I resist dropping a good punchline here and there on anyone willing to listen. Life is already far too serious without moping and frowning people running around making each other miserable. At least that's what I believe, without prejudice or glossing over the reality that indeed, life is one endless string of challenges and problems to be confronted or to flee from.
And yes a smile here and there, regardless of timing can do wonders not only for my peace of mind but also for that of other people. Behind that smile is an acknowledgement and promise that we recognize the good in one another, an unspoken covenant between the animals that we are, that somewhere within our self-serving carcasses we have the potential to care and help one another. Which is ofcourse why I smile at total strangers, say good morning to security guards and god knows who else I meet during the course of a chaotic news weekday. A smile after all is a mark of our humanity, and a day spent being human, is well, a day truly worth living.
It warms the heart and soul when people light up the moment they see you, knowing, through experience that you'll always have a smile or a funny thing to say to them. Which makes life at work all the more pleasant and interesting in my opinion. Passion for the profession, in my case, broadcast journalism, drives one to excel, but it is the sense of family and acceptance in the newsroom that is my shelter amid the chaos of deadlines, frustrations and egos crashing into one another like the tectonic plates in the Himalayas.
Smile. Breathe. Have as many friends as possible. Smile again.
Thats not to say everyone likes me. Though i wager, with all humility, that the people who hate me are few and far in between. Nevertheless it makes little difference when i meet the people who have never said anything good about me and only exude loathing for my person. The irony of trying to be pleasant to your most rabid critics or the inexplicably querulous people who just plain hate anyone they dont understand is not lost on me. At times I question myself why i even bother to extend my humanity to such ceatures of belligerence and ill will. But that wouldn't be me. So I smile, nod and try to be friends nevertheless despite, and inspite of what they think about me. There's nothing more liberating than having someone who hates you acknowledge your existence. Which is not gloating on my part mind you, just a happy thought of the possibility that they may eventually see you as a person beyond all the baggage and misconceptions they chose to blind themselves with.
I suspect there may even be people who think my bright disposition to be a mark of stupidity which would not be so far-fetched from the perspective of those so immersed in their own negativity. For how can one possibly be happy in world with so much anger, frustration and failed dreams? But then its the same world after all is it not? What's there not to be happy about? I'm a provincial lad from a small-town university who somehow managed to find employment in one of the country's biggest television networks. I've embraced industry, made friends, met people, struggled with stage fright and failed auditions on a regular basis throughout my 10 year career. And now fate has given me a bit of a break, a better salary and a chance to do on-cam work. Not to mention a beautiful wife, two good-looking boys and true friends. Am I happy? You fricking bet I am!
At times I wonder if the uncontrollable optimism hints of mental sickness, perhaps an errant gene or psychotic disposition to bring or see levity in all aspects of existence. For the smile, like the light that fuels it, is tightly wound around my heart and if it fades, so does the whole flicker, dim and falter. Which makes my life a constant search for happiness, to see the light in the darkest of days, be the man for all seasons and pursue everything with industry but still be the bearer of a smile for whatever reason.
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
Monday, July 18, 2011
Illusion
For ordinary Filipinos the huge US Missle Destroyers anchored at Puerto Princesa is seem like Uncle Sam coming to the aid of Juan dela Cruz. At first glance, it does seem like the US had made the decision to provide operational support to the Philippines in the simmering row over the Spratlys. Throw in the subtle rhetoric from the US State department and you have the illusion of strong US support over the dispute.
But then thats what it really is. An illusion. An attractive and useful one at that for both the US and the PHL. On one end, it provides hope for the majority of Filipinos having to confront the reality of their military's incapacity to protect the country's territorial claims. More importantly it diminishes pressure on the current administration to do something over the reports of encroachment, harrassment and outright arrogance of both the Vietnamese and Chinese Navy in the area.
For the United States, the exercises have the colloraly perception that it is indeed fulfilling its obligations as a treaty ally.
Sadly the CARAT exercises which have been held annually since the mid 1990's is nothing more than a thinly veiled excuse to ensure US Forces in the region are ready for any eventuality. In the simplest of terms it means the US want to keep their military doing all manners of drills and shuttling their military hardware across the region rather than have their sailors and marines getting fat and lazy in their major bases in Okinawa and Hawaii.
While covering the non essential facets of the exercise in Palawan this month, I noticed both the Americans and the Philippine military bending over backward just to make it painfully clear that the activities had absolutely no relation to the brewing tensions over the Spratlys.
Someone inside the military told me, the US doesnt even want video or pictures of US and PHL troops operating side by side with firearms to be shown in tv or newspaper reports. The US is taking exceptional care not to ruffle the feathers of China or the other belligerent claimnant Vietnam.
Most importantly, that portion of the exercise where both US Navy Missle Destroyers will be conducting maneuvers with aging PHL Navy ships is strictly off-limits to media. My source say this was a specific condition laid down by their US counterparts.
Lt Commander Mike Morley of the US Navy who acts as spokesman for the US side explains it is their policy not to have media cover the at-sea phase to avoid the responsibility of having civilians around during the naval drills.
That the media people will be onboard the PHL Navy ships and not the US vessels make little difference in light of this policy.
Which ofcourse is entirely consistent with US military policy when they embed media in similar dangerous situations like say the invasion of Iraq, the first gulf war and the conquest of Afghanistan.
As I told Morley over dinner one night "Its your job to state the official facts and it is medias job to try and read between the lies..err the lines."
As for the much publicized claim of extensive oil deposits in the region, it is hard to believe that a nation willing to go to war with two countries like Afghanizstan and Iraq to secure oil reserves would overlook such a thing sitting under their noses for the greater part of the 21st century. Chances are they have already looked and have either found out that there is none or if there is, it is much to deep underground to be of any commercial interest.
But then thats what it really is. An illusion. An attractive and useful one at that for both the US and the PHL. On one end, it provides hope for the majority of Filipinos having to confront the reality of their military's incapacity to protect the country's territorial claims. More importantly it diminishes pressure on the current administration to do something over the reports of encroachment, harrassment and outright arrogance of both the Vietnamese and Chinese Navy in the area.
For the United States, the exercises have the colloraly perception that it is indeed fulfilling its obligations as a treaty ally.
Sadly the CARAT exercises which have been held annually since the mid 1990's is nothing more than a thinly veiled excuse to ensure US Forces in the region are ready for any eventuality. In the simplest of terms it means the US want to keep their military doing all manners of drills and shuttling their military hardware across the region rather than have their sailors and marines getting fat and lazy in their major bases in Okinawa and Hawaii.
While covering the non essential facets of the exercise in Palawan this month, I noticed both the Americans and the Philippine military bending over backward just to make it painfully clear that the activities had absolutely no relation to the brewing tensions over the Spratlys.
Someone inside the military told me, the US doesnt even want video or pictures of US and PHL troops operating side by side with firearms to be shown in tv or newspaper reports. The US is taking exceptional care not to ruffle the feathers of China or the other belligerent claimnant Vietnam.
Most importantly, that portion of the exercise where both US Navy Missle Destroyers will be conducting maneuvers with aging PHL Navy ships is strictly off-limits to media. My source say this was a specific condition laid down by their US counterparts.
Lt Commander Mike Morley of the US Navy who acts as spokesman for the US side explains it is their policy not to have media cover the at-sea phase to avoid the responsibility of having civilians around during the naval drills.
That the media people will be onboard the PHL Navy ships and not the US vessels make little difference in light of this policy.
Which ofcourse is entirely consistent with US military policy when they embed media in similar dangerous situations like say the invasion of Iraq, the first gulf war and the conquest of Afghanistan.
As I told Morley over dinner one night "Its your job to state the official facts and it is medias job to try and read between the lies..err the lines."
As for the much publicized claim of extensive oil deposits in the region, it is hard to believe that a nation willing to go to war with two countries like Afghanizstan and Iraq to secure oil reserves would overlook such a thing sitting under their noses for the greater part of the 21st century. Chances are they have already looked and have either found out that there is none or if there is, it is much to deep underground to be of any commercial interest.
Monday, July 11, 2011
A trip to Japan
GMA News reporter Chino Gaston and cameraman Melchor Quintos made it to Japan’s most devastated city. Gaston reports that amid the disaster, the Japanese are exhibiting awe-inspiring calm and discipline. Their van running low on gas, Chino Gaston made a desperate suggestion to his Japanese driver, whose reply made the Filipino feel ashamed.
We reached tsunami-devastated Sendai in northeastern Japan with only the clothes on our backs and the small supply of water we carried in our day packs.
Our GMA News team had joined a Philippine consulate team sent to Sendai to check on the Filipinos there. We had arrived in Tokyo on March 13 with full provisions, but as we waited at the Philippine embassy that same day to interview the ambassador, we received a sudden invitation to join the government team about to leave for the site of devastation. Hence, there was no time to pick up our provisions.
Like many others in Japan, we had to rely on the generosity of strangers to get us through the bitter-cold days and nights.
Our convoy was allowed to pass through the otherwise closed Tohoku Expressway linking Tokyo with Sendai. It had been closed for the past few days due to the explosion at Fukushima's nuclear power plant which was a scant 50 kilometers away from the area where the expressway passed through Fukushima.
Upon entering Sendai, the bright lights and demeanor of people walking through the streets seemed a stark contrast to the images shown on TV of a tsunami-ravaged coastline and rescuers combing through the muddy ruins of the city.
chinofoto2
PHL Embassy team in Japan meets with Filipino evacuees at a relief center in Takomachi Elementary School in Sendai City on Monday. Chino Gaston
Our driver Tosho-san quickly explained that we were in Sendai's central district up in the mountains and that we were still five minutes from the coastal destruction.
A trip to the grocery however revealed the harsh reality here. Most shops were already closed and the ones that remained open were rationing what they sold to each person.
There have been no reports that Filipinos had perished in the tsunami. But the embassy staff have only gotten in touch with less than a hundred of the estimated 1500 Filipinos living in Miyagi Prefecture, where Sendai City is the main population center.
We found added solace in the warmth and kindness of our fellow Filipinos living in Sendai, many of them women married to Japanese. Despite the uncertainty they faced, our kababayan welcomed journalists and embassy staff to their homes and shared their limited water and food.
While some wanted to be evacuated to Tokyo for fear of another earthquake and possible radiation exposure from the damaged Fukushima nuclear plant, most wanted to stay and be with their Japanese spouses.
Not a single Japanese we met was even considering leaving Sendai.
Mud and debris litter the airport in Sendai City, four days after the quake and tsunami. Chino Gaston
Lining up for supplies in front of a department store, I could not help but admire the composure and discipline of the Japanese. Those I interviewed admitted they were worried and that the situation was indeed dire, but they remained polite and willing to answer questions from a nosy journalist.
One young man was waiting in line with his sister and told me he was going inside the department store to buy whatever was still being sold.
Elsewhere, Japanese students were giving away free onigiri, or rice balls, as well as miso soup to people in evacuation centers. Outside, kids were sweeping the grounds and picking up litter and debris from the earthquake.
Even inside the devastated Sendai International Airport where cars, planes and buildings had been strewn about like toys, there was no sign of looting. People using the terminal as a shelter did not even touch the food and water inside the many food shops that had been abandoned.
Since the supply of fuel was severely limited and difficult to purchase, I innocently asked our driver Tosho-san if there was a possibility of siphoning fuel from the wrecked vehicles strewn all over the coast.
japanline
Despite their desperation, Japanese residents of tsunami-devastated Sendai calmly line up for food and relief supplies. Chino Gaston
His answer made me feel ashamed. Tosho-san told me if we did that he wanted no part of it since he did not want to join us in hell.
This same man would bid us an emotional farewell a day later after his vehicle ran out of fuel in the middle of the highway and we transferred to another.
Tosho-san refused to join us when we told him to stay in our hotel or be with the Filipinos we met holed up in their homes. He said he would stay in his car and trust his government to help him get back to Tokyo.
As we left him standing beside his van, Tosho-san shouted, "Get out from Sendai while you still can!"
We watched him shrink in size from the window just as snow began to fall softly on the stricken city. – HS, GMA News
We reached tsunami-devastated Sendai in northeastern Japan with only the clothes on our backs and the small supply of water we carried in our day packs.
Our GMA News team had joined a Philippine consulate team sent to Sendai to check on the Filipinos there. We had arrived in Tokyo on March 13 with full provisions, but as we waited at the Philippine embassy that same day to interview the ambassador, we received a sudden invitation to join the government team about to leave for the site of devastation. Hence, there was no time to pick up our provisions.
Like many others in Japan, we had to rely on the generosity of strangers to get us through the bitter-cold days and nights.
Our convoy was allowed to pass through the otherwise closed Tohoku Expressway linking Tokyo with Sendai. It had been closed for the past few days due to the explosion at Fukushima's nuclear power plant which was a scant 50 kilometers away from the area where the expressway passed through Fukushima.
Upon entering Sendai, the bright lights and demeanor of people walking through the streets seemed a stark contrast to the images shown on TV of a tsunami-ravaged coastline and rescuers combing through the muddy ruins of the city.
chinofoto2
PHL Embassy team in Japan meets with Filipino evacuees at a relief center in Takomachi Elementary School in Sendai City on Monday. Chino Gaston
Our driver Tosho-san quickly explained that we were in Sendai's central district up in the mountains and that we were still five minutes from the coastal destruction.
A trip to the grocery however revealed the harsh reality here. Most shops were already closed and the ones that remained open were rationing what they sold to each person.
There have been no reports that Filipinos had perished in the tsunami. But the embassy staff have only gotten in touch with less than a hundred of the estimated 1500 Filipinos living in Miyagi Prefecture, where Sendai City is the main population center.
We found added solace in the warmth and kindness of our fellow Filipinos living in Sendai, many of them women married to Japanese. Despite the uncertainty they faced, our kababayan welcomed journalists and embassy staff to their homes and shared their limited water and food.
While some wanted to be evacuated to Tokyo for fear of another earthquake and possible radiation exposure from the damaged Fukushima nuclear plant, most wanted to stay and be with their Japanese spouses.
Not a single Japanese we met was even considering leaving Sendai.
Mud and debris litter the airport in Sendai City, four days after the quake and tsunami. Chino Gaston
Lining up for supplies in front of a department store, I could not help but admire the composure and discipline of the Japanese. Those I interviewed admitted they were worried and that the situation was indeed dire, but they remained polite and willing to answer questions from a nosy journalist.
One young man was waiting in line with his sister and told me he was going inside the department store to buy whatever was still being sold.
Elsewhere, Japanese students were giving away free onigiri, or rice balls, as well as miso soup to people in evacuation centers. Outside, kids were sweeping the grounds and picking up litter and debris from the earthquake.
Even inside the devastated Sendai International Airport where cars, planes and buildings had been strewn about like toys, there was no sign of looting. People using the terminal as a shelter did not even touch the food and water inside the many food shops that had been abandoned.
Since the supply of fuel was severely limited and difficult to purchase, I innocently asked our driver Tosho-san if there was a possibility of siphoning fuel from the wrecked vehicles strewn all over the coast.
japanline
Despite their desperation, Japanese residents of tsunami-devastated Sendai calmly line up for food and relief supplies. Chino Gaston
His answer made me feel ashamed. Tosho-san told me if we did that he wanted no part of it since he did not want to join us in hell.
This same man would bid us an emotional farewell a day later after his vehicle ran out of fuel in the middle of the highway and we transferred to another.
Tosho-san refused to join us when we told him to stay in our hotel or be with the Filipinos we met holed up in their homes. He said he would stay in his car and trust his government to help him get back to Tokyo.
As we left him standing beside his van, Tosho-san shouted, "Get out from Sendai while you still can!"
We watched him shrink in size from the window just as snow began to fall softly on the stricken city. – HS, GMA News
Monday, June 13, 2011
A journalist story
I didn't study to be a journalist. In college I had absolutely no idea what I wanted to study. Neither was I in the fraternity of shiny happy people marching with uninterrupted cadence from highschool through college.
I was one of those lost souls slogging through college mouthing vague plans for law school, half a heart for mechanical engineering and a failed stab at a degree in english literature.
In short I had absolutely no idea what I wanted to become.
Yet somehow I always knew I wanted to write. Fiction that is, free of the iron clad rules and pitfalls of more structured flavors of literature like journalism. I honestly abhorred the discipline and despised the obsession to give structure to free thought.
Little did I know I was not only to linger before this gate but find my life's work within.
I have no educational pedigree so to speak, when it comes to this profession. No distinguished alumni to set the bar of excellence impossibly high much less famous professors to glean wisdom from.
There are no college organizations and campus newspapers connecting me to the starry eyed aspirants wanting to follow in my footsteps. Heck I'm not even a Communications graduate.
But I do have a story to tell, an offering perhaps to those willing to listen, about a sub par student from a rural university who became a tv reporter in one of the country's leading tv stations.
Before I turned media, I had already spent four years working as a sales rep for Nestle Philippines. It was my first job out of college and had the trimmings of a successful career in the making.
The job had ample incentives for me to stay. Apart from my fawning friends, teachers and colleagues, the job paid well, gave you a brand new car; respectability, and came with electric neon letterings screaming "stability".
But my mom knew me better and though proud of her son, never gave up on the dream of something beyond sales figures bottom lines and ROI for her eldest son.
I eventually gave up my nice job in the multinational companya, realizing my true calling was at least a good few parsecs from where I was.
A falling out with one of my superiors was the proverbial straw and I just quit.
I spent the next two months trying to figure out what I would do next.
Whatever it was, it would have to be for keeps. I had just turned 30 and the window for career change was swiftly closing.
Opportunity would come knocking through a friend in Nestle who had an aunt in RPN 9.
The station fortunately smiled upon the journeyman and in a few days time I was already doing the QC police beat with nary a hint of what an inverted pyramid was, that segue was not food and that one was forever destined to write on the right side of the page from here on after.
I learned my journalism on the fly, in the dark alleys where people vented their evil upon each other, and the smoky, sleepy hideouts where night beat reporters fought off the sandman and boredom.
One thing I learned here is the value of maintaining contacts within the community. My station's limited audience helped little in getting stories. So for four long albiet enlightening years I had to exert double the effort to overcome the biases of newsmakers and resource persons.
At times I found myself drawing up lengthy resumes to escape, what seemed like a quagmire with no hope for advancement.
Thankfully there were no takers. Afterall who wanted a journalist from this part of the broadcast industry.
But RPN taught me how to write my scripts both in English and Tagalog. It was also here that I had my first taste of live reporting. Here I had my eyes opened to the underbelly of journalism in the country where shadowy hands traded exposure for money and ideals have to be compromised for the sake of maintaining good working relations with co workers.
I however had the good fortune of having true friends in my first media outfit. These were the friends who held my hand during the clueless months and the jaded ears who listened to frustrations of the uninitiated.
So when ABC 5 fell to the ambitions of Tony Boy Cojuangco, I was already ready to make the big leap.
And what a leap it was. My first superiors were exiles from ABS CBN led by Ed Lingao and the rest of the Correspondents team. Here I learned what documentaries were and that it took a while getting used to writing the lenghty scripts and poring over video to glean the slightest details.
It was a humbling, frustrating and exciting time for me. My most valuable lesson here is to always eat humble pie. Even when you know the entire universe is turning in your direction, always try to put your point across in the most diplomatic way possible.
Your superiors most assuredly do not know everything but they won't take kindly to a subordinate rubbing it in their faces.
Oh and lest I forget. Always read the fine print in your contract. Its already standard to have some form of non-compete clause in reporter's employment contracts. What this means is you cannot change stations without serving a time delay penalty. Call it a not too subtle incentive not to jump ship.
I learned this the hard way when GMA7 came knocking. I had to stop working for 8 months until I finally secured a waiver to my contract with ABC.
Thankfully GMA waited and kept one slot open for me.
And here I remain till this day. To keep things simple I've provided a checklist for aspirants to take to heart if you do decide to pursue journalism as a career.
One thing I can tell you is that if your heart is really into it, it never feels like work but rather a daily adventure into the unknown.
So here goes:
1. The pay initially sucks. Earn your stripes and try getting a promotion or transfer to a more reputable outfit.
2. Take care of your reputation. People with talent are all around. Journalists with uncompromising ideals and healthy work ethics earn respect. It is these colleagues who will vouch for you when the time comes to move up.
3. Read and watch your competition. It sometimes hurts the ego to see people better your efforts but it is a must to improve yourself. There's no shame here, as tomorrow brings another opportunity to shine and ofcourse a shot at putting one over the competition.
4. Take care of your health. This is not a desk job. It entails a lot of running around, chasing people, dodging rocks and bullets to carve a name for yourself. Make sure you are fit and take time to attend media safety trainings.
5. Prepare yourself for the eventuality of being offered a bribe. It will most definitely come. Make a choice, but know that there are no secrets in this industry.
6. In office competition and personal intramurals are a reality in an industry where one must be neccesarily self righteous to write about the ills of society. All the egos flying about the newsroom are bound to crash into one another. Its physics.
7. Always be on time. A late reporter can only be lucky so many times before you eventually miss an important coverage.
8. Respect the unspoken hierarchy among field reporters. You lose nothing by allowing the rabid looking ones some leeway and then ask your questions after they've had their fill.
9. Respect and don't pick a quarrel with your desk officers. They may not all be gems but guess who talks about your shortcomings during story conferences? Good desk officers will eventually realize your are not as stupid as you seem.
10. Accept the fact that there will be countless missed birthdays, including ones own; no holidays and long thankless hours during breaking news coverage.
11. Approach each coverage as if it is your first one on the job. This is not easy especially after years on the job but you never know if this will be your defining moment as a journalist. Think of Macky Pulido running across the grounds of then embattled Malacanang to bring her tape to the waiting news courier with video from inside the palace as the height of Edsa 2. Jiggy Manicad suffering from an errant stone while reporting Edsa 3. Jun Veneracion being caught in an MILF ambush with the Philippine Marines. Jessica Soho covering Afghanistan when a landmine blows up nearby. Ed Lingao being trapped inside Baghdad as the Coalition forces started bombing the capital. Michael Fajatin talking to a deranged hostage taker. These are just some of the so called "moments" that define careers. Be ready when it comes your way for opportunity like these are very rare.
The list is few and far in between. That's why one must be ready to sieze the opportunity when it comes.
That's it for now I guess. Ill try to write in a few more in the future.
Ill leave the rest for you to experience. But let me tell you now that this is one of the most fulfilling and noble professions.
I was one of those lost souls slogging through college mouthing vague plans for law school, half a heart for mechanical engineering and a failed stab at a degree in english literature.
In short I had absolutely no idea what I wanted to become.
Yet somehow I always knew I wanted to write. Fiction that is, free of the iron clad rules and pitfalls of more structured flavors of literature like journalism. I honestly abhorred the discipline and despised the obsession to give structure to free thought.
Little did I know I was not only to linger before this gate but find my life's work within.
I have no educational pedigree so to speak, when it comes to this profession. No distinguished alumni to set the bar of excellence impossibly high much less famous professors to glean wisdom from.
There are no college organizations and campus newspapers connecting me to the starry eyed aspirants wanting to follow in my footsteps. Heck I'm not even a Communications graduate.
But I do have a story to tell, an offering perhaps to those willing to listen, about a sub par student from a rural university who became a tv reporter in one of the country's leading tv stations.
Before I turned media, I had already spent four years working as a sales rep for Nestle Philippines. It was my first job out of college and had the trimmings of a successful career in the making.
The job had ample incentives for me to stay. Apart from my fawning friends, teachers and colleagues, the job paid well, gave you a brand new car; respectability, and came with electric neon letterings screaming "stability".
But my mom knew me better and though proud of her son, never gave up on the dream of something beyond sales figures bottom lines and ROI for her eldest son.
I eventually gave up my nice job in the multinational companya, realizing my true calling was at least a good few parsecs from where I was.
A falling out with one of my superiors was the proverbial straw and I just quit.
I spent the next two months trying to figure out what I would do next.
Whatever it was, it would have to be for keeps. I had just turned 30 and the window for career change was swiftly closing.
Opportunity would come knocking through a friend in Nestle who had an aunt in RPN 9.
The station fortunately smiled upon the journeyman and in a few days time I was already doing the QC police beat with nary a hint of what an inverted pyramid was, that segue was not food and that one was forever destined to write on the right side of the page from here on after.
I learned my journalism on the fly, in the dark alleys where people vented their evil upon each other, and the smoky, sleepy hideouts where night beat reporters fought off the sandman and boredom.
One thing I learned here is the value of maintaining contacts within the community. My station's limited audience helped little in getting stories. So for four long albiet enlightening years I had to exert double the effort to overcome the biases of newsmakers and resource persons.
At times I found myself drawing up lengthy resumes to escape, what seemed like a quagmire with no hope for advancement.
Thankfully there were no takers. Afterall who wanted a journalist from this part of the broadcast industry.
But RPN taught me how to write my scripts both in English and Tagalog. It was also here that I had my first taste of live reporting. Here I had my eyes opened to the underbelly of journalism in the country where shadowy hands traded exposure for money and ideals have to be compromised for the sake of maintaining good working relations with co workers.
I however had the good fortune of having true friends in my first media outfit. These were the friends who held my hand during the clueless months and the jaded ears who listened to frustrations of the uninitiated.
So when ABC 5 fell to the ambitions of Tony Boy Cojuangco, I was already ready to make the big leap.
And what a leap it was. My first superiors were exiles from ABS CBN led by Ed Lingao and the rest of the Correspondents team. Here I learned what documentaries were and that it took a while getting used to writing the lenghty scripts and poring over video to glean the slightest details.
It was a humbling, frustrating and exciting time for me. My most valuable lesson here is to always eat humble pie. Even when you know the entire universe is turning in your direction, always try to put your point across in the most diplomatic way possible.
Your superiors most assuredly do not know everything but they won't take kindly to a subordinate rubbing it in their faces.
Oh and lest I forget. Always read the fine print in your contract. Its already standard to have some form of non-compete clause in reporter's employment contracts. What this means is you cannot change stations without serving a time delay penalty. Call it a not too subtle incentive not to jump ship.
I learned this the hard way when GMA7 came knocking. I had to stop working for 8 months until I finally secured a waiver to my contract with ABC.
Thankfully GMA waited and kept one slot open for me.
And here I remain till this day. To keep things simple I've provided a checklist for aspirants to take to heart if you do decide to pursue journalism as a career.
One thing I can tell you is that if your heart is really into it, it never feels like work but rather a daily adventure into the unknown.
So here goes:
1. The pay initially sucks. Earn your stripes and try getting a promotion or transfer to a more reputable outfit.
2. Take care of your reputation. People with talent are all around. Journalists with uncompromising ideals and healthy work ethics earn respect. It is these colleagues who will vouch for you when the time comes to move up.
3. Read and watch your competition. It sometimes hurts the ego to see people better your efforts but it is a must to improve yourself. There's no shame here, as tomorrow brings another opportunity to shine and ofcourse a shot at putting one over the competition.
4. Take care of your health. This is not a desk job. It entails a lot of running around, chasing people, dodging rocks and bullets to carve a name for yourself. Make sure you are fit and take time to attend media safety trainings.
5. Prepare yourself for the eventuality of being offered a bribe. It will most definitely come. Make a choice, but know that there are no secrets in this industry.
6. In office competition and personal intramurals are a reality in an industry where one must be neccesarily self righteous to write about the ills of society. All the egos flying about the newsroom are bound to crash into one another. Its physics.
7. Always be on time. A late reporter can only be lucky so many times before you eventually miss an important coverage.
8. Respect the unspoken hierarchy among field reporters. You lose nothing by allowing the rabid looking ones some leeway and then ask your questions after they've had their fill.
9. Respect and don't pick a quarrel with your desk officers. They may not all be gems but guess who talks about your shortcomings during story conferences? Good desk officers will eventually realize your are not as stupid as you seem.
10. Accept the fact that there will be countless missed birthdays, including ones own; no holidays and long thankless hours during breaking news coverage.
11. Approach each coverage as if it is your first one on the job. This is not easy especially after years on the job but you never know if this will be your defining moment as a journalist. Think of Macky Pulido running across the grounds of then embattled Malacanang to bring her tape to the waiting news courier with video from inside the palace as the height of Edsa 2. Jiggy Manicad suffering from an errant stone while reporting Edsa 3. Jun Veneracion being caught in an MILF ambush with the Philippine Marines. Jessica Soho covering Afghanistan when a landmine blows up nearby. Ed Lingao being trapped inside Baghdad as the Coalition forces started bombing the capital. Michael Fajatin talking to a deranged hostage taker. These are just some of the so called "moments" that define careers. Be ready when it comes your way for opportunity like these are very rare.
The list is few and far in between. That's why one must be ready to sieze the opportunity when it comes.
That's it for now I guess. Ill try to write in a few more in the future.
Ill leave the rest for you to experience. But let me tell you now that this is one of the most fulfilling and noble professions.
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