In a political landscape where abuse of power and worsening poverty are often hidden, if not neglected, many local journalists are forced to write “safe stories” just to survive.
For me, as an Aries Rufo Fellow, the challenge was not just mastering the craft of writing and reporting, but also cultivating a deep sense of grounding. This compass became my anchor, the source of my courage to write with grit and a critical eye, even when the pressure to conform was often overwhelming and scary.
“Would this article do justice to my Lola May’s story?” the question I silently asked myself before hitting “send” on every piece I wrote for Rappler. It was a question rooted in love and loss, and it served as my moral guide throughout the fellowship, steering me through the challenging landscape of community journalism in Bicol.
My grandmother Lola May or May Nemia, as many fondly remember her in our lovely island home Rapu-Rapu, was a firm and resolute woman. Whip-smart, my Lola May could have been one of the brightest journalists if she had set her mind to it — or if only she had the chance to pursue higher education.
Sadly, the year she died was the same year I was first introduced to campus journalism. Writing became my way of coping with grief. I so wish she had been able to read my work or I could have written a feature about her when she was still alive, something she would have enjoyed reading with her black coffee and cigarette.
As a fellow, I encountered countless stories like hers — different forms, different narratives, but the same underlying struggles. Through Rappler and its Aries Rufo fellowship program, I realized that writing wasn’t just a way to process my grief but a way to honor Lola May’s memory and fight for justice for others whose dreams and futures are being stolen by a corrupt system.
The newsroom gave me not only an opportunity to hone my journalistic skills, but also the strength to delve deeper into the issues faced by the marginalized. These issues are often ignored due to the lack of local support for budding community reporters and aspiring ones like myself.
This lack of support is perhaps best illustrated by the joke that inevitably follows when other media practitioners in my Bicol province learn I’m reporting for Rappler, or after reading my published stories: “Will Rappler cover your burial expenses?”
For a young campus journalist, this may come as a chilling joke. But living and reporting in Bicol tests not just your fear threshold but, most importantly, your grit and principles in keeping true to the mission of serving the people.
Setbacks and triumphs
As part of the program, Rappler assigned Mindanao regional head Herbie Gomez as my mentor. He once asked me, “Nad, don’t you want to relax a bit or write lighter stories?” while reminding me “not to be too hard on yourself.”
I guess being relaxed or going easy is not in my system and vocabulary.
Chasing stories, even in dark alleys, is the thing I love the most as a journalist. This is evident in my published works — my first article pointing out how the lack of safety measures of the Philippine National Railways in Bicol is affecting displaced residents and causing a rise in accidents; the lags in government relief aid becoming evident amid climate woes in the region; and a local delicacy mirroring the poverty incidence of Bicol.
While investigating the pervasive political propaganda in Bicolandia, I documented how it fuels the exploitation of poverty for political gain, how youth volunteers are manipulated as online trolls, how “utang na loob” or debt of gratitude is weaponized during elections, and how the attacks on journalists have a chilling effect on them — all these contributing to the region’s disinformation and social problems.
True enough, covering remote communities can be physically exhausting and expensive, adding to the other challenges along the way. Yet I tried to maximize my participation in the fellowship program by using most of my stipend to fund community and media projects — many for outreach programs and mass integration where I teach campus journalists how to immerse themselves in the community.
Similarly, and despite my academic and fellowship responsibilities, I also managed to conduct training and lectures at over 30 events in various small classrooms, national conference venues, relocation sites, markets, and streets.
Of course, my Rappler fellowship journey wasn’t all easy accomplishments. There were also times when I struggled and was even on the brink of losing the fellowship at one point.
In fact, I failed to submit my long form report outline on time. Chay Hofileña, our investigative and training head, sent me a long email as a warning only two weeks into the fellowship. She said, “the willingness to think the pitches through is an indicator for us of how serious fellows are about completing their fellowship.”
That core memory resonated deeply, shaping me into the journalist I am today. It illuminated the crucial role journalism plays beyond the university, demonstrating its power to impact communities directly. It underscored the importance of journalistic discipline in producing responsible and effective reporting.
And with the end of the 2024 fellowship came a profound sense of gratitude.
But my deepest hope — the one that resonated the most with me — was that Lola May, the woman who inspired my journey, would look down with pride on the work I had done. After all, I tried to honor her through the stories of the people I wrote about. Each of them was a letter of affection to her, a letter from the little Renardo she knew, extending warmth and love beyond death. – Rappler.com
Reinnard Balonzo is a senior journalism student at Bicol University-College of Arts and Letters. An Aries Rufo Journalism Fellow graduate of Rappler for 2024, he is also chairperson of the College Editors Guild of the Philippines-Bicol.