A reporter's journal

Crushing disappointment when the camera misfires

By RENATO GANDIA
WCR Staff Writer
Toronto

Originally from El Salvador, Sergio was very ill when he went to Poland to attend the WYD. He was diagnosed with brain cancer and was given three months to live at the time.

He went because he wanted to be blessed by the holy father. "I have so much faith in God and in the holy father. I know participating in the WYD is somehow extending my life," he told me.

An aide to the mayor of San Francisco, Sergio is not well. He still has cancer. In fact, he underwent chemotherapy just before he came to Toronto. But his faith is so alive and his trust is so strong that he continues to attend.

From the day I met Sergio, I carried his image in my mind, along with a desire to tell his story.

I was at WYD Toronto as a pilgrim and a reporter. I think, I put my priority on my job and put the pilgrimage aspect on the back burner.

The pope was not as young as the first time I saw him. I was not either. In fact I was only 10 years old and not totally aware what a pope is and what he does. I did not understand then the significance of his visit to my home country. He beatified the first Filipino ever to become a saint, St. Lawrence Ruiz.

The next time I saw him he had a cane. He was older, so was I. The week he arrived in Manila for WYD, I turned 24.

I saw him again in Toronto, older than he was in Manila. So was I. He did not have a cane but he couldn't walk straight. His appeal and aura remained strong as ever.

In fact, his appeal became stronger with the display of strength and courage amidst speculation the youth of the world would see a frail old man, who could barely speak and walk.

There was some germ of truth to their speculation. But he can still pull surprises and the world indeed was surprised.

I remember Ranilda of Radio Vaticana telling me in one of the many media shuttle rides I took from Exhibition Place to my accommodation, "Just watch, he will come up with a surprise."

All I did was to console myself that his image has been etched in my heart since I was 10.

At the media centre where I spent one third of my time, wrapping up stories and looking at images I captured with my camera, I witnessed how other journalists stopped whenever the pope was on the air.

Phones would be left unanswered, cell phones turned off, as everyone turned to television monitors listening to what he had to say.

When he arrived for the welcoming ceremony, I was there among the crowd cheering. I was not as exuberant as I used to be. Maybe it was my age, too.

I just wanted a photo as his popemobile passed where I stood patiently. But that image was not mine to capture because my camera did not cooperate. Stunned by the technical malfunction I wanted to cry.

Walking away from the crowd I wept. I was 10 years old again and wanting to be near the pope but I couldn't because of the throngs of people.

A lady from England asked me what was wrong. I couldn't even begin to tell her. All I did was to console myself that his image has been etched in my heart since I was 10.

The Way of the Cross event was testy. CBC and the producer of the presentation did not want all the media inside the fenced stage.

I was stubborn and took the chance because I wanted to capture beautiful and colourful photos.

Security's eyes were better than my hiding. I was found and was escorted out. That night I did not give up. I wanted to capture images to take home. And I did, with my ego and pride a little bit bruised from the embarrassment.

Back at the media centre, I looked at how some veteran journalists seemed to take the coverage easily. "Maybe I was inexperienced," I told myself as I felt fatigue taking its toll.

The reporter beside me from L.A. Times did not seem to panic about anything. While Reuter writers and photojournalists chatted about what would be good for dinner, I was fading into some form of discouragement.

A walk at Duc in Ultum (Coronation Park) made me realize that most of my veteran colleagues at the media centre only need to tell stories.

I too need to tell stories but stories of faith.

Now I clearly know what a pope does. And I know what I needed to do - to tell a story like Sergio's.

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