It Turns Out My Work Is Not Essential!
It was a rainy cold Sunday evening in East London. I was doing my business when I found out something that utterly shocked me and broke apart my beliefs about democracy, justice and myself — It turned out my work is not essential!
I was making a reportage for the Croatian website gol.dnevnik.hr about football fans during lockdown. The idea was to visit some Premier League stadiums and see what fans are up to during the matches.
West Ham were playing Liverpool, I was in front of the London Stadium observing and taking photos of those few fans who came to see Liverpool players despite the government measures.
Players just started entering the bus when a policeman approached. He put a hat on his head and said: “Gentlemen, you are not buying medicines. You are not shopping. You are not exercising.”
“Ah, poor guys, they will need to leave the place now. But not me!” I thought to myself.
“I am working here,” I told the policeman while showing him my press card.
“You work what?” he asked me while looking at the card.
“I am writing a story about these poor fans and how the police are sending them home. A story about football leftovers.”
“I don’t see that is essential,” he got cocky.
“It is essential for my story,” I said and put the press card back to my pocket.
“The match is over. Real journalists are at the stadium. You can’t be here.”
“Real journalists?” I thought to myself. “And that what they are doing — seating at the stadium and covering football — that is essential, right?”
“I am sorry, but whatever you say, I don’t trust you that your work is essential. Go home right now,” he said firmly.
I had to move.
Doubting
“Is my work really not essential?” I asked myself when I started walking away. “That’s strange cause I thought my work was absolutely essential. I remember I was taught in university that journalism plays a vital role in challenging government’s actions. In other words, if there was not journalism to control governments and their bodies such as law enforcement ones, then they would have absolute power. There wouldn’t be anybody to control them,” I thought and climbed a muddy slope to get on a side way from where the policeman couldn’t see me.
“Just as your role is to control these fans, my role is to control you. So whose role is more essential — yours or mine?” I thought as I was looking at him from above.
“I am sure they wouldn’t mind! To do what they want. While nobody is watching them. If I wasn’t here, then who would record that a policeman sent home three fans who were waiting to see players while breaching the government rules. Nobody! What if that policeman became aggressive and beat them? What if they became aggressive and beat him?” I thought when I positioned myself in the underbrush, covered with mud.
“I don’t care! Muddy or not, I will finish my job here. Because it is essential. The most essential!” I thought when the Liverpool bus started its way off the stadium.
“And this photo is essential for my story as well!”
