By Portia Silva
When I said I wanted to be a journalist, I meant not the kind of journalist who whips up a phenomenon one day, then gets shot in the head the next. Not even the journalist who goes undercover, with a spy cam hidden beneath layers of carelessly ironed pashmina shawls. Or the journalist that is sent to a land experiencing a slow death caused by subversive groups and armed civilians. No, no and no. I love my country, yes, but I’m sorry Mother Land, I’m just not the Veronica Guerin of the Philippines.
Veronica Guerin was an Irish journalist who wrote for the newspaper Sunday Independent. Her contemporaries at that time bashed her for writing about drug dealers and hunting down these criminals to personally get information from them. When her articles against these drug dealers were published, Guerin started receiving numerous death threats. Bribes were eventually offered to the journalist so as to silence her, but nothing kept her from letting her country know that out there are criminals that should be arrested for their injustices. She was shot in the leg for her work and eventually, was brutally murdered. Guerin’s death caused outrage and led the Irish government into reforming laws against questionable assets and suspected drug dealers.
I honestly hold tremendous amounts of admiration for the battle that Guerin fought and for the bravery and for the principles she chose to hold on to until her last breath. It gave me the creeps to know that someone is actually determined enough to exploit such kinds of maladies, to the extent of risking not only her life but of her family’s as well. I would have also turned down the money offer, but, unlike Guerin, I would interpret the shooting incident as a warning to shut up. And I will, for heaven’s sake, I will! I would be reasonable enough to choose to protect the little boy and the supportive husband over a country whose officials can’t find ways to solve its people’s problems. But then again that’s the selfish me speaking and I bet Guerin, if she hears this, would probably advise me to be ashamed of my self. I’m not just ready to eat death threats for breakfast, knowing that a McDonald’s Egg McMuffin sandwich is so much better. I just have to say, investigative writing is simply not my thing
It’s funny though remembering how I troubled myself into getting accepted by The Guidon’s investigative arm, the Inquiry staff. Don’t get me wrong, though. I definitely earned a lot while doing the “dirty” work for the Inquiry in the six months that I was with the university paper. Every interview, research and field work was a learning experience for me, and I treasure every painstaking issue the staff lovingly put together. I was an unknowing freshman then, thinking that journalism only meant serious material. I never realized that it opens up to a lot of other writing opportunities like the entertainment industry, the lifestyle arena and the fashion spreads. I don’t think I can handle well the pressure and the stress investigative journalists do throughout their work. I would like to assume that they love what they’re doing so much that they won’t be giving this career for any other, but again, I know I’m not just as brave.
My mother tells me that I should consider and at least try the “serious side” of journalism because the entertainment industry (which, obviously, is the path I’m more inclined to follow) cannot provide as much substance. She keeps on repeating that I don’t have to always dwell on the negative impacts the work bears upon its writers since at the end of the day, the effects of the articles upon your readers are what matters more. I thought she’d stop nagging me when I let her watch Veronica Guerin but no, the movie inspired her to inspire her daughter, me, to “tread the road less traveled” all the more.
I guess I’m still stuck in this stage wherein I’m trying to figure out what exactly I want to do, most specifically what to write about, in the future. Maybe, I keep on thinking that I’m too young to die, that I’d rather pray for the country than fight for it. I honestly can’t tell what to make out of my education right now, but in case my name comes out among the top ten journalists list made by Filipino criminals, then you know what exactly I have become.
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