Periscope
Until My Final Sonata
By Chester Leangee Datoon
I still vividly remember when it all started — a random October night where I was notified that I got in and was suddenly added to multiple group chats.
Being an “MKule” staffer while donning the white uniform was just a fleeting dream. I anticipated rejection when I came into the office to take the exam unprepared, armed only with rusty high school campus journalism skills.
I thought that I would just be a regular member lost in the annals of the publication’s history. But a fire burns incessantly especially when it is lit with fervor.
And so I write, depicting stories of how science and health have shaped Philippine history and sharp opinions on current events trending in national news. However, the ink stagnates when its writer remains bound in theories and fact sheets.
The facade of Liwasang Bonifacio and streets going to Mendiola Peace Arch became familiar to me. Rallies no longer scare me; holding calls bearing demands and accountability was suddenly normal. Interacting with the marginalized and bearing witness to their daily lives became a need.
Along the way, it was no longer about the articles, rather it was the hunger to know and proffer truthful narratives from those in the fringes of society that pushed me to continue.
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It is a cycle of hunger and satiety that is persisting for more than three years. The passion to lead, the thirst to know, and the longing to do more.
As I reflect the years that have passed by, I am no longer the reflection of my former self.
MKule took a lot from me.
Saturdays that transformed into overnight pressworks and editorial board meetings which could’ve served as my respite from the gruelling academics I constantly face each week. Coverages, journalism skills training, and educational discussions at night that I could’ve used to review concepts for an exam that I will take the next day.
Nevertheless, it also gave me a lot in return. Eyes that see beyond the counter, a brain that scrutinizes the social determinants of health, and a community that I could call home through the crests and troughs of my life. It gave me a space where I can rest and escape the empirical nature of science. It gave me a room that I could use to sleep whenever I wanted to.
Yet, time is cruel. Day by day, it reminds me that I will inevitably leave the institution I called home for close to four years. I have already written what I consider to be my magnum opus, but the empty hours during internship makes me reflect on what I should leave behind.
A hundred articles — that is the imprint I once desired to leave as I close my doors to MKule. Yet, more than the number of articles that I have penned, the blazing passion of contributing to the publication’s growth is what I truly want to continue.
Because more than the legacy that I leave in my name, the longevity of the institution that once housed me during one of the most significant points of my life is what I want to preserve.
So I let the pen bleed for a final time. To curate styleguides for future generations of writers to use. To establish working guidelines that would steer the internal operations of the publications. To preserve the holistic and shared community that once housed writers from all walks of life.
In spite of the years that the publication has worn me, I continue to burn. Even if my generation have already graduated or have served their time. Even if the current members might seem foreign to me. I actively choose to continue because there is still room within me to love and serve the publication that gave so much to me.
Until my final sonata, I shall become part of the foundation that preserves what is mighty and should prevail.
