Well God must have heard that, 'cos in the past week, I've been sent to report the Ciwidey landslide and the chaotic rally in front of the legislators' House.
Let's start with the Ciwidey landslide, shall we.
Last Wednesday night, after a five-hour drive from Jakarta, I and the office driver arrived in Ciwidey, the tourists' destination for picking strawberries. But I wasn't there for the strawberries.
The day after, I started driving up to the mountain top where a landslide had destroyed a village located inside a tea plantation. With a pair of boots (when I said boots, imagine those worn by street cleaners and house builders), I walked through thick mud and rocks to reach the area.
Man, was the disaster bad.
What broke my heart the most was actually those who lived in the refugee tents scattered aross the plantation. Even at 1 p.m. the weather was cold to the bones. So imagine, they had to sleep at night only on thin rugs and tarp tents, using the only clothes they could save from their houses.
On Friday, I went back to Jakarta with bruises and an aching body.
But the trip wasn't half as thrilling as this Wednesday and Thursday, when I was told to cover the rally in front of the House, which turned into chaos for several times.
My first riot coverage!
Water cannon and tear gas were fired, and I had to run to avoid the rocks and whetever things they could throw to the police. My eyes were watery, my nose and throat hurt from the freakin' gas, and explosion sounds were in the air as police fired rubber-bulleted guns.
Priceless.
On the second day, I even got stuck in the middle of the riot, and I was thinking, this is still nothing compared to being a war journalist.
And now I'm thinking, those were two occassions I wouldn't have been involved in had I not work for a newspaper. It's the rush, the unpredictable moments that are irreplacable. Do I really wanna move from this job?
2 comments:
you have THE coolest stories!
Why thank you.
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