I'm blogging from New York today. On the front page of The Times, a story of courage and conviction, "Times Reporter Escapes Taliban After 7 Months."
(http://www.nytimes.com/2009/06/21/world/asia/21taliban.html?_r=1&hp)
The kidnapping of 41 year-old David Rohde; an Afghan reporter, Tahir Ludin; and their local driver, Asadullah Mangal never made the headlines before now because The Times feared for their safety. Rohde was conducting researching for a book when kidnappers snatched the trio outside of Kabul. Rohde and Ludin escaped their captors by climbing over the wall of a compound in the the North Waziristan region of Pakistan.
Rohde, a history major and graduate of Brown University, is described as "not one to regale colleagues with war stories, instead saving his storytelling for articles." In 1996, he won a Pulitzer prize for international reporting for exposing the killings of Bosnian Muslims in Srebrenica. The year before, Bosnian Serb authorities held Rohde for 10 days after he was caught photographing mass graves. After the 9/11 attacks, he worked as a co-bureau chief for The Times in South Asia. He had travelled to Afghanistan before, most recently, last November.
Rohde is the kind of journalist that makes me both cheer and cower. We can't all be on the front lines of war but exposing the truth, regardless of the risk, is the journalist's creed. It's the essence of all that I ever set out to do but haven't even come close. I applaud Rohde's conviction to find the truth. I feel disappointed with all of us who call ourselves journalists but have never truly tested our limits.
It's not a matter of fear. It's a matter of responsibility. In local news, my most risky work involved sitting in an interrogation room with a murder suspect and knocking on the door of a suspected rapist. This was back in the one-man band days; just me and my camera. Any fear was quickly outweighed by my assignment and admittedly, my own curiosity. It's those adrenaline-infused moments that send caution to the wind.
At the same time, I'm a mother of two and my responsibility to be safe for "them" takes priority; it must come first. When American troops first entered Kuwait, I recall being jealous that the station's anchor was going to go with my usual cameraman, instead of me. It was a relatively safe, if not uncomfortable, assignment, but for years, there had been no overseas situation big enough to warrant sending local crews. So, I never went. The war continued, and stories of journalists abductions, executions, and deaths began to mount.
Rohde's responsibility to write about the Taliban clearly outweighed any sense, on his part, of personal responsibility. The article says he was married nine months ago; and in captivity for seven months of that time. To his bride: this is one marriage where "he (definitely) won't change." Get ready for a lifetime of dangerous overseas assignments by your new husband.
Ludin, the local Afghan reporter who was working as Rohde's interpreter, is also not to be ignored. The Times says he is a father of seven children and responsible for an extended family of 17. Was he being a journalist or trying to earn a living for his family? Probably both.
As I sit here in a Tribeca loft, I look outside and see the big buzzing city to my right. To my left, I spot my host's Emmy award on the bookshelf. It's for writing a PBS documentary about Andy Warhol. Awards are an affirmation of recognition. They represent more than hard work. One hopes a measure of passion goes into every award-winning piece.
So where is my passion? As I read about Rohde and monitor the imprisonment of the two Current TV journalists in North Korea, what am I doing to call myself a journalist?
Well, these days, I'm off the streets and working in public relations to earn a paycheck. Yeah, it's that responsibility thing again. Have one kid in college, another going next year. Cha-ching! But the gnawing won't let up. I will be back.
Rohde's family and colleagues say he never wants to be the story, just the storyteller. Well, despite his intentions, his personal story is one I will remember. He shines a light where we all need to be looking. He gives readers a window to the world. And for those of us who call ourselves journalists, it's this kind of reporter that gives us fresh motivation to aim high.
