By CHARINA CLARISSE ECHALUCE
When I first entered the newsroom, my only goal was to live the dream: to write for the Manila Bulletin, my childhood favorite.
That was 12 years ago. Dreams change. Goals change. So did I.
But flashback to Jan. 2, 2014. I was shaking as Pinky Colmenares, the executive editor and my boss, introduced me to the other seasoned editors—the “institutions,” the skyscrapers that made my dream company even more beautiful, yet terrifying at the same time.
“Every story we write can make a difference,” Ma’am Pinky told me. I vowed to use my skills and platform not just to report, but to help and inspire.
The rainbow
Not long after, I received my first assignment. Super Typhoon Yolanda had just turned Visayas into a broken paradise. Watching the news felt like being inside Noah’s Ark—staying safe, while everything outside was getting washed.
But in the middle of it came God’s promise: the rainbow. And my mission was to tell our people of its existence.
Bringing hope in the form of boats, the Negrense Volunteers for Change (NVC) Foundation’s Peter Project gave over a thousand fishermen the chance to return to the sea. What stayed with me most was learning from NVC President and Chief Executive Officer Milagros “Millie” Kilayko that donors named the motorized bancas after their loved ones. The project did more than restoring livelihoods—it immortalized names, memories, and love.
The last time I heard, NVC had already provided over 5,000 boats and expanded its programs—serving 26 million meals, distributing 11,000 work tools, and enabling 11,000 educational grants.
The fire
A few stories later, I met young artist Genesis “Gini” Aala, selling her paintings in Luneta, Manila. There was fire in her sad, worried eyes.
“These are worth more than ₱15 or ₱25,” I told her.
She just smiled, “I need to sell them quickly to save my mother’s life.”
The fire I saw was love—for her art, her mother, and the paintings she had to let go to save the latter. My article went viral and reached the right people, including a broadcast journalist who organized a mini exhibit where Gini finally sold her masterpieces at the price they deserved.
Weeks later, I saw her life story reenacted on a popular television show, with a photo of my article flashing on the screen. Her fire had spread. Her mother was saved.
The water
I later encountered Joyce-An Dela Rosa, who became a wife and mother at 18, enduring harsh judgment. But as we spoke, I could no longer see even a trace of the struggling teenage parent she once was.
Though she did not graduate on time, she continued watering the dream in her heart. When her son Jin Daniel reached school age, she returned to school and graduated cum laude—while her child finished as first honor.
Her story made me a finalist at the Lasallian Scholarum Awards, but what mattered more was witnessing her growth. Every bloom begins with water, they say—but Joyce-An? She cultivated a garden.
The superhuman
Then, I e-met the “Masked Superman” Enrico Talavera on Facebook. The rare cancer he got weakened the once “super” certified public accountant, but the artist in him proved stronger than any Kryptonite. He created the “Kanser ng Lipunan” art page, selling artworks and crafts donated by fellow artists.
“I don’t want to just lie in bed and let my family finance my medications,” he told me.
My goal was to help Enrico raise funds for his six-figure medical treatment per session. Sadly, before the article was printed, he passed away and I had to ask one of our editors, Gilbert Gaviola, if I could rewrite the fundraising article as a tribute instead. A framed copy of which was later displayed at the mini gallery his family built in his honor.
The pot of gold
Half a decade later, life called me elsewhere. One of my last stories for the paper was about Jeric Trestre, a father who collected 25-centavo coins to save for his baby’s ₱2-million operation.
Though “Baby Esang” passed away years after the successful operation, the support from those touched by the viral article bought the family more time. Those tiny coins made a huge difference–serving as the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow that started my “journ-ey.”
The newsroom
When I left the newsroom for the last time in 2018, my goal was simple: to write and make a difference, turning my passion into advocacy.
My stories, the people I helped, and the lives I touched echoed Ma’am Pinky’s words. And as I continue to mentor campus journalists from different regions, my advice remains the same: write to make a difference.
Because I did.
And life has never been the same.
(Charina Clarisse Echaluce is the author of three books, and lectures on campus journalism and literary writing.)
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