Girls reporting from Aceh

These past few weeks I've been glued to the TV screen in an roller coaster of emotions ranging from shock, rage, sorrow, cynicism (is this an emotion?) but also pride and envy. Come again?

I'm proud of those chick reporters our TV stations send over to cover the tsunami-hit areas of Aceh. You roll over the channels and women are looking back at you, showing you the destruction, the disfigured bodies, the huddling masses. They bring people to speak out and thell their stories, find you the heart-wrenching souls who makes you feel your life is a pampered luxury in comparison. Above all, they bring emotion to their reporting, and why not? This is not a story to be told stony-faced.

Among the first to report live, one was full of sobs and unsteady voice for a couple of days. I hardly recognized another, without makeup and face drawn tight. Other stations start reporting live, and somehow they all seem to agree that the girls should be sent over. They look back from the screen ashen-faced.

As the days grow, the superstar reporters seemed to steady themselves. They lost that emotional pitch and started to focus on the management and logistics issues of relief. They help families find each other, inform us that tampons are need, babies are exchanging hands for money.

As weeks pass, the superstars are replaced by the second line, fresh-faced girls with that little bit of unsureness about them. Smiles start to creep in, and just tonight one reported on the state of transportation in Banda Aceh, making me feel like watching a travel feature. This is good, life is meant to go on.

Somehow, I feel better that these girls are on the job. I will remember them for their courage and grace. And I envy them the opportunity to be part of a thing bigger than themselves, where humanity is at its most naked and where God permeates every space and time.