When I was in school, my idea of journalism was simply writing great articles that made it to the front page; traveling to many places, meeting many people, and telling stories through words. I envisioned journalists as "storytellers of the times," with notebooks in hand, cameras slung over their shoulders, and eyes shining brightly with passion and ideals. Everything about journalism in my mind sparkled like a beautiful dream.
Then, when I entered the profession, starting with short news reports, imperfect interviews, and awkward assignments in crowded places, I realized that journalism is not as simple as people think. It's a combination of passion and reason, emotion and principles, relentless dedication and clear thinking in every word. It's a profession that not only demands good writing skills, but also requires the ability to listen, observe, feel, ask the right questions, and remain silent when necessary.
 |
| A reporter from Dak Lak Newspaper on assignment in a flooded area in Quang Dien commune (Krong Ana district). |
I used to think that just knowing how to write was enough. But it turns out that to write well and profoundly, I have to learn to listen carefully, travel extensively, and see with my heart, not just my eyes. I used to be thrilled when my articles were published. But later, I realized there's a greater joy: when my article helps change something for the better, however small.
Journalism has taught me to grow through journeys and the people I've had the chance to meet. Each trip is not just a mission, but also a journey of discovery – discovering people, places, and even myself. From long assignments in remote areas to reporting on the front lines of natural disasters, epidemics, or important political and social events, we journalists have come to understand and empathize with what we witness and become more aware of our social responsibility as writers.
I once accompanied a delegation to Cu Pui commune (Krong Bong district). There, I met M'nong children walking barefoot across streams to school, and witnessed the resilience of the people in clinging to their fields and protecting the forest. These seemingly small stories kept me awake at night as I typed each line. I began writing not just to "publish in newspapers," but to spread awareness, to speak out, and to contribute a small part to changing their lives.
I vividly remember another assignment in Krông village (Dur Kmăl commune, Krông Ana district). Heavy rain flooded the road to the village, making it impassable, so my colleagues and I had to walk for nearly an hour. We brought our cameras, video recorders, audio recorders, raincoats, and some essential supplies for the villagers. In the biting cold, I received a handshake from an elderly woman who said, "Thank you for not abandoning the village during this difficult time." At that moment, I realized that journalism is not just about recording information, but also about accompanying and sharing.
As a journalist, I get to live many different lives. Sometimes I'm the one sharing the grief with victims after a landslide; sometimes I'm accompanying a young person starting a business in the mountains; and sometimes I'm quietly attending the funeral of a soldier who sacrificed his life for a noble cause.
Thank you, journalism, for the unplanned journeys that have forged us into resilient, perceptive, and idealistic individuals. Each trip is a learning experience, an opportunity to broaden our hearts.
Journalism, after all, is not just a job, but a way of life. A way of life filled with a wide range of emotions, in many different circumstances. A way of life that, despite the hardships and fatigue, I cannot give up. Because I know that somewhere out there, there are still many stories that need to be told truthfully, responsibly, and with humanity.
Source: https://baodaklak.vn/xa-hoi/202506/nghe-cua-nhung-chuyen-di-c94030b/
Comment (0)