BACK when I was still finding my footing as a young journalist, I was armed with little more than a Sony Ericsson phone, an insatiable curiosity, and a burning desire to land my first major exclusive.
It was the mid-2000s, and I had just signed up for my first postpaid mobile account — a rite of passage for any aspiring reporter who needed to stay connected.
One day, I managed to secure the contact number of none other than Luis ‘Ka Louie’ Jalandoni, the senior adviser of the National Democratic Front of the Philippines (NDFP).
At the time, Jalandoni was in self-imposed exile in Utrecht, the Netherlands.
Reaching him felt like reaching into history itself — a direct line to a figure central to the country’s decades-long communist insurgency.
I dialed the number, heart pounding, and spoke to Jalandoni in what I thought would be my breakthrough moment: an exclusive phone interview for what I envisioned would be a headline-worthy scoop.
I did get the story. I recorded our conversation, took notes, and drafted my article with the enthusiasm only a rookie journalist could muster.
But the story came at a steep price — quite literally.
The following month, my phone bill arrived. I opened the envelope, expecting a manageable amount.
Instead, my eyes widened in disbelief. The total? More than P10,000.
It turns out that calling a landline in Utrecht for an extended period was not exactly covered under local rates. I had made a long-distance international call — on my own dime.
There’s no journalism school that fully prepares you for the small but expensive lessons you’ll encounter in the field.
That bill was a wake-up call, both financially and professionally.
But I didn’t regret it.
It was my first real taste of what it meant to chase a story, to take a risk, and to feel the high, and the cost, of reporting something that mattered.
It taught me resourcefulness, discipline, and the importance of planning ahead. More than anything, it was a reminder that in journalism, every call you make can carry a cost — not just in pesos, but in persistence, courage, and the drive to pursue truth wherever it may be.
Looking back, that interview wasn’t just my first scoop.
It was the start of a career — and a lesson I still carry today, both in memory and, yes, on print.
Last Saturday, the Communist Party of the Philippines announced in a statement that Jalandoni passed away.
Although he was designated a terrorist in 2022 by the Anti-Terrorism Council under the Duterte administration, Jalandoni remained a vocal advocate for the resumption of peace talks.
Rest in power, Ka Louie.
