Journalism Till I Die

KUNLE RASHEED 

I must confess that despite being a journalist for more than two and a half decades, I never truly understood the concept of the “Fourth Estate” that I frequently use almost every week of the month year after year, without giving much thought to its actual meaning or origin.

I am more than hundred percent sure that many journalists including top ones may also fall into this category of those newsmen like me who never bothered to learn how the phrase was formed.

However, since learning remains a constant thing, I’d like to shed a little light on it before moving on. The term refers to the roles press and media play in monitoring and influencing the branches of government and society. This concept arose from the traditional medieval European society’s division into three estates which are, the clergy, the nobility, and the commoners.

In that society, the First Estate comprised the clergy, religious leaders, and institutions that held significant power and influence over people’s lives. The Second Estate was reserved for the nobility, consisting of aristocrats and landowners with political power and social status. The Third Estate included the commoners, which encompassed the general populace, including peasants, merchants, and the burgeoning middle class.

The “Fourth Estate” emerged when the press and news media became a powerful force in shaping public opinion and holding the other estates accountable. The press’s advocacy and implicit ability to influence political decisions led to its recognition as a distinct and influential entity within society.

There is no doubt that journalism has exposed me to a wide array of topics, cultures, and viewpoints. By covering stories on various issues and subjects, I have gained a deeper understanding of the diverse ways people live and think. This exposure has helped me to appreciate the importance of the Fourth Estate in promoting transparency and accountability.

Journalism, as my chosen profession has played a pivotal role in what my life has become today. It has opened many doors that most times money may not open. It has given me a level that only the privileged can attain.

Another confession I must reel out today is that, lately I was getting tired of the only job I’ve known for the better part of my life.

The reason for this is not far fetched. The job has not only become a “taja teran” (all comers) affair, it has even eroded the little respect we get from society and most especially the corporate entities who were our partners. To them if an errand boy or a typist or even a printer in a news outfit can post story on his or her blog, why run after a regular journalist? The corporate players right now prefer to dine and wine with those who could not sew two simple words together to put a story out. These corporate players “fear” the damage they could do to their brands if not appeased with adverts and patronage.

I had tried many things, but the love to convey my thoughts through to the public had been the only motivation that still pushes me to hang on to the title of being a journalist.

However, my personal experience at the Canada port of entry has once again changed my thoughts about leaving my treasured profession. My experience became a testament to the profound impact journalism can have, even in unexpected situations.

As a journalist, I have always been passionate about uncovering new things and giving quality information to the benefit of the public and as such I don’t lose a chance of adventure especially if it will enrich my knowledge that I can later impact.

My journey to Canada was driven by a desire to see what that part of the globe looks like since I’ve been to many African countries and Europe. This time, I had with me my smart and intelligent daughter Queen Maya and her mother who were first visitors outside the shores of Nigeria. Filled with anxiety and mixed expectations, we embarked on this journey, unaware of the unique advantage my profession would afford me at the port of entry.

Journalists are often seen as bearers of truth and information, and this perception can sometimes translate into a smoother passage through immigration controls. As we embarked on that Air France plane that took us from Charles De Gaulle airport to Toronto, sweat broke out from my forehead despite winter knocking on the doors of that beautiful town. As we were on the queue, I was listening to barrage of questions about intentions, availability of money and accommodation before anyone could be allowed into that country. A night before, my “Ijinle” and my baddest paddy in the jungle of journalism Tunde Moshood had told me “wo ma gbo e o” (they’ll shake you) because he said he had to go through two immigration before he could get access to that country few days ago. And as I was moving nearer, the words of my friend TM as we fondly call him, were “playing Obesere” on my head.

I looked up at the man that just left my front whom the officer wanted “to kill” with different difficult questions which I concluded was deliberate to send some people back home.

While still at this, I heard “next?” like a loud speaker on my head. I move with my family toward the good looking dark guy who looked every inch professional with his demeanor. As soon as he started throwing questions at me, I don’t know how those words escaped from me. I just heard myself saying “I’m a celebrated journalist in Nigeria.” He looked at me with another question of what do you mean. As he was doing this, he quickly ran a search on my name and boom! Things came out. He then asked me a question concerning what my junior colleague Sola Onamodu “Panama” wrote about me during my 40th birthday celebration where he labeled me as a ‘high flying journalist’ The officer asked why am I referred to as high flying. That was when I knew he has seen me. Confidently, I told him that Kunle Rasheed being a noun, needed a good adjective to paint him good. He smiled and showed my different stories to his beautifully created partner, a female who looked at me with an eye I can’t explain but definitely not bad.

The importance of my profession and the legitimacy of my purpose in Canada was ascertained without the need to subject any of my family to any further question; he simply said “welcome to Canada”. I had thought that was the end until the long walk took me to another rounds of checks by an immigration officer who will either let you go or show you the way to another sets of immigration that will also grill you. But, as soon as I walked towards him, he saw a sign that the former immigration had written on my paper and he quickly showed me the way out.

This recognition not only heightened my love for the profession but also fostered my belief that it can only get better.

Journalism’s impact extends beyond the stories we tell; it influences how we are perceived and treated in various contexts. My smooth passage at the port of entry was a direct result of the respect and trust associated with the journalistic profession. This experience highlighted the broader societal recognition of journalism’s importance in promoting transparency, accountability, and informed citizenship.

My experience at the Canada port of entry was a powerful reminder of the respect and trust that journalism commands.

As a journalist, I am proud to be part of a profession that is valued and respected, and my smooth entry into Canada is a testament to the positive impact journalism can have on individual lives..

This is still Kunle Rasheed reporting live from his inner mind.