I remember as if it was yesterday that my teacher morals talked about his other job in class : he had been a journalist in the Gulf War. His stories were breathtaking. I think he gave me the dream of becoming a journalist. He was a young and good looking teacher with in my eyes great values, to convince a 16 year old what more do you need you might think. Well I was not that easy to convince, I have always been a little rebel in the way I wanted to challenge the status quo. I think my teacher did the same, he was not afraid to go out there and risk his life to report on the situation of the lives of others.
I think that was the moment, being young, beautiful, sporty, fearless, communicative, and everything young women are at the age of 16, that I realized I wanted to help people to share their real story!
He gave me this almost romantic idea of becoming a journalist, as if fear does not exist.
I thought that is a job for me as I am fearless!
I must admit that the first time I realized I did have some fear was not so long, after my AVC. The deep fear hit me not at the moment it happened or in hospital. But afterwards, in my couch, when I understood I might not have seen my loved ones again, my children, my partner, my parents, my sister, my friends,…
It felt as if fate wanted to teach me a lesson.
With the actual situation in Ukraine, I often think, would I be able to go there and report on how people feel. Would I be able to ask them the right questions..
And then I wonder is it not fear that keeps a journalist in line?
Because when they ask you to report on a story you do not want to make any mistakes, no matter what the substance of a story is. If it is a story people want to share, it has a value, the details are important to them.
To be a good journalist I am convinced, you have to be afraid. Fear demands that you be absolutely sure you want to say every little thing you’re saying. Fear makes you triple-check your work. It makes you sharper, faster, more focused.
To report during a war, some fear is necessary. But too much fear is paralyzing. I think if I would not have my children and a business to take care of I might consider to go to war, not to fight, but to report.
For now I think I will start with the very small mission to help the amazing little girl, a niece of a friend of mine, that came to Belgium as a refugee. I want to help Irina to believe in her dreams, as Ayla of whom I wrote last week does in the dessert, to help her to be courageous enough to share her story of what war means to her.
