Awards, Awards, Awards

What does it take to be a journalist? If you have what it takes to research topics and issues, lend an objective voice, write compelling articles, and serve to contribute for the nation at large and the community in particular, then you are a real journalist.

Ask any journalist whom have won awards and he or she may simply say that it means that they must be doing something worthwhile, something which the government had recognised, something the nation appreciated and approve of and this recognition itself will spur them to work with even greater commitment and enthusiasm.

With my dad, Hj. Basri Mohamad, he has won 3 years in a row for Kenyalang Shell Press Award for the years 1998, 1999, 2000 for the various reports he covered for TV3. Later, in November 2009, my sister, Siti Asmah was proudly nominated and took home 2 Awards for Bernama TV - Awards for Environmental Journalism on her report on Turtle Rehabilitation and also Awards for News Reports on Health. Click here for link.

And to top it all off, Syeliza Basri was announced the winner of The Best Radio Talkshow category for a prestigious Seri Angkasa Awards 2010 on 18th February 2011.

It was a proud moment indeed for any parents, especially one whom one owes their success to. All the sacrificies, all the hard work, dedication & disciplined commitment to succeed was worth all the effort.

Many may not understand, many may do anything to belittle their challenges, even put them down in their sacrifices but the truth is, the government and those that matters recognizes their contribution.

To me, journalists tell untold stories, they make sacrifices everyday to make sure the public is aware of what is going on around them. Sometimes journalist get the respect, but most times they are treated with suspicions. But one thing for sure, journalists make these sacrifices because it is their passion, their niche.

But, what makes it even more worthwhile is the fact that fellow journalist from Utusan Sarawak, The Borneo Post & The Sarawak Tribune shows heart-warming support in their news report. A special thank you too to Sarawak Deputy Chief Minister Datuk Patinggi Tan Sri Datuk Amar Alfred Jabu who had personally extended his heart-warming encouragments and congratulatory wishes on this success.

And to RTM, Media Prima & Astro, thank you too for the recognition.

For online news from The Borneo Post, Click here

Assalamualaikum from Asmah

Assalamualaikum,

I am Asmah. My sister Surena started this blog and had requested if Syeliza or myself would pour in our experiences as news journalist. Well, here goes...

"Masa tak kuah tumpah ke nasi?" Its a old Malay saying which literally means, "where would the gravies pour unto if not unto the rice itself?". Hmmm.. sounds kinda funny but that may well describes me best.

It has never once cross my mind to be a journalist. I had prepared myself to pursue a Diploma course in Computer Studies majoring in Business, and had dreamed of being a software programmer of some sorts, or maybe a computer hackers perhaps - that would be fun!

Anyway, a little about myself. I am not one that could be taken seriously, for I am kind of a dreamer and besides, I am more of the reserved type compared to my other sisters, who seemed to know exactly where they are heading and what exactly they need to achieve.

When my father decided to send me to Kuala Lumpur to pursue a Broadcast Journalism programme, I just sort of go with the flow, indecisive as I was then. But it was from there-on that I started to develop an interest in journalism, though amidst the "growing" interest, I was still uncertain of taking journalist a step further, as a serious career path. Actually, as reluctant as I would like to admit, it was for the sake of my beloved dad that I took up the challenge intially and assist my dad in supply news to TV3 as state correspondent.

As time went by, I must now admit I had enjoyed every bit of experience, trials and tribulations being a junior journalist, then in 2001. It was an intellectual yet emotionally enriched experience. Not only that, I get to meet with all levels of people from many levels of societal status - from downright humble fishermen to political leaders in this world (though I never get to met George Bush yet!)...

Being a junior journalist then, I remembered fearing the times when I got back from an assignment. And this would just have to be the time when I should be writing my scripts, match it to the relevant soundbite, which is a small portion of an interview, or to some, this refers to as SOT (Sound on Tape), record the time-code and get my dad to record it from the Master Tape to another tape, which would be sent to KL, in time for the next news updates.

By nature, I am rather a slow-poke and with my dad being impatient and totally moody (sorry dad!) to get things done, it sort of made me panic twice more. And up till now, I have no idea if the "fast-mode" my dad gears in at that moment was to perk me up or just a way for him to purposely stressed my senses blind. In his exact words, he would say, "Cepat cari SOT, Bapak nak edit! Slow benar juak eh!" ("Hurry up! Find the SOT! I need to edit them fast. Why are you so slow!!" - he would exclaimed these in the most exasperated manner which completely turns my fingers to jellies). But I knew that my dad meant well as he was very strict on quality news scripts and visuals. Very soon I realised the true meaning of "Productivity and Quality". And it was this two elements of sorts that counts in the challenging and competitive News Broadcasting world. Not a minute to be spared if you want your material to be News material.

Besides my dad, the News General, I owe a lot to my sister Syeliza who has helped me in many ways & many times too. She was my sifu, my mentor. She would check my scripts, and to my dismay and annoyance, she would change every single words in my "Intro". Annoyed as I was, I know that it was from such sincere criticisms that helped me learn so much. She did not blatantly "put me down" on my efforts but she was giving showing and teaching me the ropes to succeed.

Sadly, at this point in time, at 2.47pm 4th of July 2008 I miss all that. I miss all the havoc, running helter-skelter with tapes, scripts, cables (ya cables) and mostly dodging fireballs from fierce-unpredictable-moody daddy. And I miss the feeling to challenge my sister, Syeliza in everything we do. Though I knew it was hard to out-beat her, I just have to do it to make up for her being an annoyance at times. But, in actual fact, I truly envied her and her brilliant ideas, her energy, her motivations. She is like everything I wanted to become. Maybe one day...

Today, as Bernama TV, State Correspondent, and working on a one-man-show the loneliness creeps in when I recall the chaotic moments with Syeliza and my dad. Nevertheless, life has to go on and it is not all that bad. I still have a tight circle of journalist friends, some of whom I have known for so long. They are also family to me now and though life has its funny twists and turns, I hope to do the best I could to serve with the responsibilities entrusted to me. May Allah guide me in my worldly ventures towards a more permanent rewards hereafter.

Hopefully, in time I would find moments to blog here on just about any memorable times I had with fellow journalist on news coverages, I covered for Sarawak. And I hope also Syeliza will contribute equally her experience too...

Bujang Semarahan

The editorial piece ensuing was provided for by its author, Mr. James Ritchie (check out his book Man-eating Crocodiles of Borneo). James has many years of editorial experiences and probably one of the best writers on adventures, journey and culture. This is one of the many articles he has forwarded to me for my use. The explicit details in the article explains the journey of 2 journalist to the interiors of Sarawak, scooping exclusive news. Part of the footage will be enclosed soon.

The day the reptile was taken to the old Sarawak Museum grounds (behind the building bordering to Kuching Plaza), I was there with one of my sisters (could not remember which one, though), to send our dad to do a follow-up.

I remembered not going in as the stench of the carcass makes me want to throw-up. So we stayed in the car. I can also still remember the newspaper article from the now defunct Sarawak Tribune, the next day on Bujang (Masri's father) who took home a piece of the crocs meat home and wondered if he could stomach eating them cos I do not think its permissible for a Muslim to eat the flesh of any animal that lives in 2 world or "alam" i.e. in the water and on land.

Anyway, enjoy this piece.

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End of the Bujang Samarahan by James Ritchie

On the morning of November 22, 1993 I received a call from Haji Basri Mohamad who was in charge of the Sarawak branch of TV3. He said that the police had captured the Bujang Samarahan. We excitedly sped towards Kota Samarahan ferrypoint, about 32km away, where a marine police boat was waiting. We were hopeful that the reptile was still alive as it would not only provide good pictures but a good story.

BUJANG SAMARAHAN CAPTURED ALIVE, I imagined the headline. Like the story of the white-back Bujang Senang, it would have been the perfect ending--the only difference being that the Bujang Senang suffered a more ignominious end. In the case of the Bujang Senang, there was no single authority who could decide what to do with the carcass of this rare albino crocodile. By the time the museum authorities decided that it might be wise to preserve or stuff the reptile (or whatever was left) it was several days too late. For one thing the grieving relatives had hacked the reptile so badly leaving it badly mutilated and almost unsalvageable. So it was left to rot until the carcass, minus it's head (which was bought by Johnson Jong) was claimed by the sea. While I thought that this would be different, I was proven wrong because the officers men involved in the operations had other ideas.

A month earlier an operation was launched by the marine police following the killing of Abang Saperi on October 28. As usual, baits were set up at potentail crocodile haunts where large reptiles had been spotted in the past. The chance of baiting the same crocodile that took Abang Saperi and Masri in a river system which had several large reptiles was going to be remote.

Being related to the dinosaurs and having been in existence for 20 million years has it's advantages because Sarawak's modern-day crocodiles are known to be very sensitive to their greatest enemy--the human predator. Experienced crocodile catchers and hunters will tell you that crocodiles often refuse to take their baits, especially if human hands have touched it. And even if the officers involved in "Operasi Bujang Samarahan" did capture the assailant, it is not known if there as any clear-cut instruction on the action to take.

As we arrived at the scene at Lubok Pauh, about two milometers from Kota Samarahan just before 8 a.m. we were told the bad news. The reptile which had taken a bait had been killed. Apparently two police marksmen Awi anak Brodie and Busau anak Luanka and six other hunters had come across a hugh reptile which had taken a bait. They spotted a white plastic jerrycan, which was attached to the bait, moved indicating that the reptile which had swallowed the bait, was moving with the current. Without proper insutructions and fearing that the baited animal might turn on them they hurled four grenades into the water and fired at least 14 rounds of ammunition in a ferocious 30 minute battle.

When we arrived at the scene it was over. Awi said:"We couldn't help it...it was struggling and there was no way we could haul the anmal in. I pumped a few rounds into the reptile just in case it capsize a boat or hurt any of us."

The crocodile was hauled into a sampan and taken to Kampung Melayu, the very village where it killed Abang Saperi. As the hugh creature was carried from the sampan onto the land, a crowd gathered to pose with the crocodile which, surprisingly measured only 4.6 metres long and 225kg in weight. This time the authorities arranged for the reptile to be carted to the marine fisheries cold room in Bintawa where it was stored for the night.

The following day the reptile was carted to the Sarawak museum grounds and arrangements were made for Abang Saperi's widow, Patemah Abang Saud, to witness Dr. Charles Leh from the museum cut open the reptile. To her shock they found a gold-coloured timpiece belonging to Abang Saperi in the stomach. The crocodile had apparently taken off the victim's hand which had a watch and a ring when it snapped at Abang Saperi. Also inside the stomach was a large hook which the reptile had taken. Abang Saperi's ring was however missing.

Based on it's size and skin texture, the reptile was estimated to be about 50 years old. So it was confirmed that Abang Saperi's killer had been accounted for.

Also at the museum was Bujang bin Ahmad, the father of Masri, who was convinced that the reptile was the same one that killed his son. Apparently he took a small portion of the crocodile meat home.Taking the flesh of the killer crocodile was no easy task, but it was something that Bujang had to do to satisfy himself. "I am convinced that the crocodile is the one that killed my son. Now I am avenged."

Another episode of crocodile attacks had ended at Batang Samarahan which had not seen any crocodile attacks since the Japanese occupation. The NST had written a series of killer crocodiles along the river system in 1988 following the sighting of several large reptiles measuring in access of 18 feet, but no action was taken. Now it was no use crying over spilt milk as two people had been killed. In any case, would a police operation have deterred the attacks. Or was it fated that Masri and Abang Saperi would die at the hands of the same crocodile? It was later learnt that Masri and Abang Saperi's family were distantly related. Was this pure coincidence or something more than that?

The Nuri Experience

Every journalist in the world can tell you about their "dangerous" moments, a close call, something which makes you bertafakur sejenak, look back at your life and bersyukur that you are still given the chance to live.

I know my dad and my sisters (who later joined my dad as journalist after their graduations), had many close calls too, and their editorial pieces will be featured in this blog soon.

But what I am going to write here today is based on my experience, in after just 3 months helping out my dad during my summer vacation.

Back then, I must admit I was never one who knew much or appreciated News, per se. So, getting on a Nuri for the first time brings no goose-bumps or apprehensions about flying on it. Instead, I thought it would be fun; and it was actually fun cos I had never experienced being a sort-of "open-styled" heli ride, where its door was half open, serving the remaining part as an open window. Well, except for the deafening engine noise, I enjoyed the ride as I could clearly see the jungles down below, and feel the soft breeze of the morning air on my face. To my amazement, there was refreshments served too.

That day (if I'm not mistaken was on 11 December 1989), my dad and I were on board the Nuri with its air-craft crews and two of their high ranking officials, the late Mej. Jen. Dato' Mustaffa Awang and Brig. Jen. Dato' Hasbullah Yussoff. We were on the way to Lundu for some military events to cover for news. We boarded via the old Kuching airport (many a great memories at that airport) which is now used for military aircrafts.

I could not remember now how long the flight was but what I do remember is interviewing the late Mej. Jen. Dato' Mustaffa Awang and Brig. Jen. Dato' Hasbullah Yussoff on some issues on-location (I'll get some pics soon when I balik Kuching). My dad was the cameraman and all I did was hold the mike. It was a day trip and we were safe at home before dark.

A week later, my dad told me to stand-by cos we might have to follow the military for a routine visit to Lundu again. Oblivious to statistics of Nuri crashes, I was ready for action but my dad later told me we may not go as it was not a newsworthy event (unlike last weeks' event).

(Digressing here... Statistics of Nuri Crashes:

From 1968 to 1981, there were only 4 deaths in a crash one of which happens on 25 April 1981 – where 2 Malaysian air-force personnel were killed and 13 more injured in a Nuri crash during a storm 30nautical miles from Kuching Airport - "Dua anggota TUDM terbunuh dan 13 lagi cedera dalam nahas helikopter Nuri ketika ribut di 30 batu nautika dari Lapangan Terbang Kuching, Sarawak".
And in 1989, prior to the 18 December incident, there were 2 crashes and 21 deaths. The first incident of 1989 was an emergency landing the cause of which was uncertain. The second happened in November 1989 whereby 21 military personnel including15 anggota Pasukan Polis Hutan were killed when the Nuri crashes between Gunung Gerah and Gunung Bilah at the borders of Kelantan-Perak.).

How wrong we were! That fateful flight on the morning of Moday, December 18, 1989, carrying 16 anggota Tentera Darat and TUDM, including the Pegawai Pemerintah Markas Divisyen Kedua, Mej. Jen. Dato' Mustaffa Awang and Pemerintah Briged Ketiga Infantri, Brig. Jen. Dato' Hasbullah Yussoff, crashed near Sungai Lundu, Sarawak.

I learned of the news after Maghrib when I was asking my mother in the kitchen at our house in Perumahan (she was taking out some plates from the white cupboard perched behind the sliding glass door, and I was on my way upstairs to my room), the whereabouts of my dad. That was when I learnt the news of the crash as my dad was covering the story . I felt scared for my dad cos he was covering the news for the tragedy alone. At the same time, I felt relief that we were not on the air-craft that day.

I remembered asking my mom why dad did not ask me to follow him for the coverage. But according to mom, my dad had to rush to the airport as the bodies had been found and they are now bringing it home. My dad, ever the one to scoop news from other fellow news-men, never waited a minute when he get calls to cover a story. He was so committed to providing the best news and visuals. So I knew the drill. After the visuals, my dad has to "pump" the feeds at Telekom to make it for the 8pm News Bulletin. A one man show at that time, he consolidates the news report (the journalist circle was quite tight, and there were some good friends around to get the facts from), get his visuals on locations (arrival of the jenazah, the burials etc.), drives down to Kuching to pump the feeds, call KL to stand-by. Sounds easy? Well, no! Its a one-man show, equipment was heavy, it was raining and he has been on his feet since morning. He has not eaten. He must have been extremely tired. Poor dad...

I could not explained the anxiety I felt that night. I just wanted my dad to be safe at home with us. Al-fatihah to all that has perished in that flight. Amin.

When my dad gets home that night, it was already late. Mom, the ever, supporting angel, waited up for him. Maybe she's worried too but she never shows it. Its just gonna be a short sleep for my dad cos he may just have to cover a follow-up on the story plus other news coverage, of course.

In my mind, there will be days in time, that my dad has to go through this sort of hard work again. I felt so wrong that I even thought of helping my dad and discontinue my studies. But that was unheard for, for my parents. No matter how hard times were, no matter what kesusahan they will go through, they never complained or make us feel guilty. Instead, they wanted us to catch our dreams... Life was tough at this time (digressing a bit....my sisters were selling Choki at school! sometimes nasi lemak which my mom cooks!... I hope my sister would contribute editorial pieces of their experience here), but life has to go on...

My Dad @work (with his crews & staff)

How It All Started

My dad, Hj. Basri Mohamad, started his career as an electrician at RTM, Kuching. Even without a proper qualification, but with hard work, and pure dedication to his responsibilities, he was later promoted to become a technician.

His keen interests in electrical engineering and fixing broken electrical tools earned him quite a reputation among the locals. If it has anything to do with electric, they just have to have an expert fix it - my dad; from the local public right up to the then Chief Minister (CM) of Sarawak, Datuk Patinggi Tun Abd Rahman Yaakub and Governor, Tun Sallehuddin, it will always be my dad to be called unto to fix the TV or instal the new VHS VCR. Practically everybody in Kuching knows Hj. Basri, my dad (and to add a bit, quite a number of people especially those in the news industry in KL knows Hj. Basri of Sarawak.

Realising a market for his expertise, this has led my dad to open up a small shop named, Beema Electricals & Electronics at the BINA MARA shop centre, Jln. Hj. Taha, Kuching. A year later, in 1982, my dad operated Beema Electricals & Electronics at a bigger premise at Rubber Road. However, business was not too promising and it later dwindled to a stop.

Not long after, my dad joined a construction company as General Manager. Teaming up with Mr. Lau Kim Jee (as I recalled, a very nice Chinese man, always gave us hampers), and the late Hj. Salleh Embai (we call him "Usu Aji" (uncle bongsu) - that was the title my parents used to call him, so for us, its Nek Usu Aji). If my memory serves me right, they were coordinating the building of the Santubong bridge at that time. After Krian Construction, my dad joined Sarahon Construction, also as General Manager. However, later, due to some family conflicts within the company, my dad left.

And with a strong determination to keep the family together, my dad continues to work hard for a living and my mother resumes to work back at PBB Satok. At this time, somewhere in 1986, my parents' involvement in the local political scene has deepened. They had been in politics since the mid-60s. Caught up in the whirlwind of political instability of Sarawak at that time, my parents later become one of the few victims of political condemnation (just because they share a different view and/or make human mistakes...freedom of speech???) Life was tough.

Writing this now and having a family of my own, it made me realise how bad things were at that time...but my elder sister, my younger siblings (aged 11, 9, 7 and 3yrs old) and myself were oblivious of the situation. I guess my parents kept the true picture from us so as not to demotivate us or affect our studies). God Bless our parents...

In 1989, my dad finally got an interview and subsequently offered to join a local FTA private TV station as a freelance cameraman cum broadcast journalist (or a stringer). I remembered how happy my dad sounded when he relayed the news to me on the phone. I was in the UK at that time. I was also very happy for them. I knew life has been tough for them since the political upturn in 1987.

But being a cameraman cum broadcast journalist is not an easy task. To the locals in Kuching, just holding the infamous TV station's logo at that time was real glamorous; hence fueling envious feelings from certain political clans and individuals alike. But my dad stuck to his principle and responsibilities, and together with an undivided support from my mother, they both continue to do their task. And almost every night, there will be news coverage from Sarawak. My dad the cameraman, my mom the reporter cum interviewer.

It was no easy job. I had my share of being a reporter too. Its a funny incident actually. I was asked to interview the ACP following the incidence of some kidnapped babies at Kpg. Gita. I really didn't know what to ask but after the subsequent glare from my dad, peering from behind the huge Betacam lens, not to mention the pending anger from him, I just shoot with some nonsense question and lived...)

As a reporter then and for someone with a tainted political involvement, my dad had his fair share of dejected "moments". There were times, he was rudely asked to leave functions and not to cover news. There was also a time when the rudeness turned physical (I think there was a newspaper clipping on this issue) at a football event at the Sarawak stadium. Despite the loatheful and cruel unjustified condemnation on my parents by some "concerned parties", my dad continued to do his part in contributing to the state. Though not many, at that time would consider it as a contribution, but with perseverance, control and lots of patience, my dad continued his "perjuangan" to bring news on Sarawak, continued to be the source for the voices of the people of Sarawak to be heard, nationwide.

Well, after a few years of operating from the back of our home at Perumahan, my dad finally agreed to join all other state stringers to synergise the news operations in the different states. Finally, in May 1995, a consortium was formed.

Appreciating the contribution and undivided commitments these stringers has shown, not to mention the expertise to boot, the then management team of the local private fta TV station agreed to build a new beginning for these stringers in particular, and the business of venturing into the provision of the local video news service as a whole (see NST publication Saturday, May 27, 1995 below).

Led by the late Saad Long (Kedah), the other state stringers were my dad, Hj. Basri Mohamad (Sarawak), Ghazali Yahya (Sabah), Zainal Abidin (Pahang), Abdul Ghani Mahmud(Johor), Noran Abdullah (Kelantan), Sharom Bakar (Terengganu), Lam Koon Sang (Perak), Zulkipli Che Sab (Penang), Hamid Jumahan (Melaka), and Mohd. Ali Chooi Abdullah (Negeri Sembilan).

The ensuing video is dedicated to the pioneers of EESB, our "forgotten journalists".

The Beginning

Journalism, the discipline of gathering, writing and reporting news, applies to various media, including but not limited to newspapers, magazines, radio, and television.

While under pressure to be the first to publish their stories, news media organizations — each adhering to its own standards of accuracy, quality, and style — usually edit and proof-read their reports prior to publication.

The glorious days of news reporting by a private news gathering agency formed solely to provide news content for a local free-to-air private TV station in the country, are more than over. For 3 years since 1995, the substance of the news gathered and thereforth, televised nationwide was, in its own right, of an unmatched quality (I should think this statement concurs with the comments given by Wan Zaleha Radzi on News quality in one of her interviews on TV3 recently).

The commitment and dedication, the passion, the sacrifices, the spirit of one and the relentless pursuit to provide quality news coverage nationwide has brought much success in news coverage for the private fta station, through the formulation of this local private news gathering agency.

Short-lived by the political change in 1998, followed by individuals as well as corporate and political interests, the "agency" was forced to change its business activity to something "safer".

However, despite the break-up of the consortium, these journalists continue the sacrifices as state stringers, by providing unparalleled quality news all over the states.

And with much pride, they would have continued to do so, if there was equal justice served to match their relentless sacrifices to each state in particular and the the nation as a whole.

It is in this blog that we shall dare to endeavour and delve into the beginnings and the journey of life in journalism through the eyes of experiences and pains of enduring the dream to become what could have been a legendary contribution to the nation.

Most importantly, this blog is specially dedicated to my father, "the forgotten journalist", "the unsung hero", and my mother, who is always there to give him all the support, physical and emotional, through good and bad times. They who has seen and experienced the growing pains of being a cameraman cum broadcasting journalist (until my 2 sisters came in the picture), not by qualification but by chance, steered by the basic need to survive following an unjustified condemnation in the political arena.

But no matter what the general people or politicians think (or the "lack" of it) of my dad, well, dad you will always be our hero...