The lights shine

(Baonghean) - 1. How many times have you been a solemn delegate of a conference? You entered the splendid hall with flags and flowers, looking neat and smiling.

While you and everyone else are engrossed in enjoying the cultural programs, or attentively listening to the speakers, you may have caught a glimpse of a corner of the hall. There, there is a journalist, busy with his camera, his video camera, his back soaked with sweat despite the air-conditioned room. Most likely, you are slightly frowning: Is it necessary to work so hard? Then you, too, may be “asked” by him to “take 5 minutes” to leave the hall for an interview. Oh, this time you are really being disturbed. You may refuse, or you may reluctantly answer “to get the job done”. And at lunch that day, if you pay a little attention, you will not see that “disturbing person” among the countless toasts.

In a corner somewhere, he was removing the tape, writing the last lines of news, searching for the network to quickly send information to the editorial office, where many colleagues were also waiting for his news to carry out their duties... And that afternoon, on the way back, he could be hungry, could have had time to quickly slurp a bowl of instant noodles on the roadside. Tomorrow, maybe he would receive orders from the editorial office to go to the most remote and thirsty sun-drenched area, or he could practice being a fisherman, wearing the ropes used to tie the ship, overcoming seasickness to set sail on the Gulf of Tonkin on a long journey... So that tomorrow, you could see the thirst of the people in remote areas, see the withered sugarcane and tea plants on the newspaper pages, or know that, even though the East Sea out there is raging, our fishermen are still persistently clinging to the sea with a resilient spirit...

Reporter Dao Tuan (Nghe An Newspaper) working at Ngu Island. Photo: Ho Phuong

2. I still remember the time I went to the farthest, most difficult place in a mountainous district. On that arduous road, there were many times when I thought I had to "give up". However, the motorbike taxi driver told me that about a month ago, he had also taken a female journalist to this place. I felt so ashamed of myself, the idea of ​​giving up had left me. When I entered the remote village, I saw the villagers rushing out to welcome me, they asked me about the female journalist who had been to this place, who had shared with them the coldest night. A feeling of warmth suddenly welled up inside me. My steps seemed to be more steady, as if I was being energized by the light of my colleagues who had gone before me.

That's it, my friend. The journalism profession that we have chosen can be extremely difficult. We are the ones who have stood in the farthest places, the ones who have eaten the most frugal meals, the ones who have faced the most dangers... But we are also the happiest people who have experienced the most emotions in this life. Today, we are moved to the core when touching the border marker, standing silently before the faded flag of the Fatherland, tomorrow we are happy with the bridge that has been longed for for generations connecting the two separated shores, and the day after tomorrow, we may shed tears at the fate of a person in need... The harshness and happiness of journalism have always been with us like that.

3. Thinking about my career, I always think of the lights every night. Passing by my newsroom, looking up, the secretary's office is still on duty, writing news and articles for tomorrow's newspaper. Passing by a colleague's house, the light is still on at my friend's desk. Under that light, the lines of words seem to flow from the heart, the mind, from the desire to touch the hearts of many people.

The same lamp, I saw turned on on the desk of a teacher - a retired colleague of mine. For more than 30 years she has been attached to the provincial newspaper, the lamp followed her to the shelter when she worked as a journalist in the fire and bullets of war, the lamp hung on the handlebars of her bicycle on the days she went to work on the newspaper, the lamp of the manuscript pages clattering every night. And today, the lamp, she lit waiting for her son to come home after his shift. The light she lit, as if silently proud, proud to have a son who followed in the footsteps of the profession she chose, the profession of courage, dedication, responsibility and love!

TV