Imagine this: as a reporter you dress up sharp, arrive at a high-profile event with your camera, notepad, recorder and whatever else you work with, ready to capture the highlights and moments that make headlines. But guess what? No chairs for media people! Yes o! Na wetin happen today. As in, they expect us to stand like bouncers, while others chill on their soft seats.
Let me gist you how it went down.
I reached the venue early—sharp 10 a.m. like they said. The place was all glammed up with banners, lights, and a red carpet because that’s where you get all the juicy shots of big names in town. I was thinking, “Today na today, I go collect gist well!”
But as I dey look for where media people go siddon, na so one event staff waka come meet me with smile like person wey no understand suffering. He pointed at one corner, and I was expecting make him to direct me to a sitting area for reporters, you know. But lo and behold, my people, the young man just pointed at a group of people standing and with a wide grin warmly said your colleagues are there. ! looked at him again and asked, “Please, where is the sitting arrangement for media?”
The guy smile again, “Sorry but we do not have enough seats to go round. Please just find somewhere comfortable, we will try to sort this out but i am not making promises. We no really plan that one.”
Omo, I weak!
I wanted to laugh, but i felt too pained to try. These event organizers really forgot that reporters are not spectators. Maybe i am wrong, they may actually have thought that we came as spectators or maybe na fan club we be? Who will capture the moments for them? Who will turn their event to headlines if not us, the “forgotten” media crew?
While i reflected on this, I saw some other journalists arrive, one by one. Their fate was same. We all just stood like soldiers, shifting weight from one leg to another, hoping that no one will fall yakata before the end of the event. And you know journalists, we remain focused on getting the job done, even under pressure.
The funny thing be say, is that while the VIPs and influencers sat comfortably, sipping cold or room temperature water from plastic bottles, for the reporters no chair, no refreshment.
But make I no lie, journalists sabi improvise. At some point, I joined two colleagues to form “reporters huddle.” We gisted about the event, laughed, and took pictures. I mean, even if the work environment isn’t conducive, you should work with style, abi no be so?
The irony of the whole day is yet to end. When it was time for press briefing, then they remember us. “Media, media, please come forward for interviews!” Suddenly, we become important. We kukuma moved from standing corner to front row, just to snap their best angles and record their big speeches.
But after the interviews, what happens? Back to standing position! My legs almost protested but I reminded myself that i came there to work, not to enjoy. That’s how we roll—hardworking but almost unappreciated.
Next time, sha, I will carry my own folding chair to any event. If they cannot provide, I will provide for myself. Abi, no bi me go cover event and faint for standing?
So, my people, that’s the life of a Nigerian journalist. We hustle through everything, even standing ovations—literally. Until next time, make sure you respect your media folks. Without us, those flashy events no go shine for the papers!
Till the next gist!
Olorimetsuda
Diary of a Nigerian Journalist
