Last week was a really hard week for me.  I had worked very hard and I was totally exhausted from doing so much reporting on the major quake that hit us here in China.  And on top of all the work, I was feeling ill.

For example, last Sunday I had to go back to the university and I had a stomach ache. I just wanted to sleep, but I knew my duties as a reporter during this critical time in my country required me to be report the news.  Many depended on me.

    One of my jobs last week was to help organize a relief effort and to collect donations that would go directly to help the hundreds of thousands of now homeless Chinese; the children; to bring a small measure of help to the many desperate and broken people and cities.

    I can clearly remember one evening, it was quite cold, I felt miserable, and here I met a boy who's family lived in the quake zone located in the Sichuan Province.  He told me how his grandmother was killed during the quake and that his dad was badly hurt, and that their enitre home was completely destroyed.  And there I was standing there talking to a boy who lost most of his loved ones and the home he had lived in before.  Who was I to complain that I was tired or sick?

    My mind was frantically thinking of what questions to ask him.  Yes, I am a reporter but I never had to before ask others how did they feel that everything important to them had been wiped off this planet in a matter of minutes?  How do you ask someone how do they feel that many of their family is dead?  I felt helpless as I grasped to ask him anything.  Instead, I stood there and cried with him.  Both of us human beings and feeling lost in the moment. 

    On Monday, my stomach was still hurting, it was rainy outside, another miserable day for me but I had to work as I had to complete many tasks. My mind still clouded, like millions of other Chinese, at the magnetude of destruction the quake and afterschocks had done to so many millions of people.  That afternoon, before I went out, I drank 3 cups of hot water.

Today we had 3 minutes of silence in memory for the dead and those injured in the quake.  Imagine if you could, hundreds of millions of Chinese everywhere stopped what they were doing to pay their respects, to pray, to remember carrying a hope inside them to move forward after all of the tears shed and wounded healed. 

    As a reporter, during May 19 through the 21st, 2008, All newspapers, magazines and web pages turned grey in color as a symbol of the tremendous loss of life and property, but filled with a bit of hope that we as a country will move on, rebuild and succeed.  Take note that all newspapers and magazines in China are always in color.  And to see everything in grey, it had a poignant reminder never to forget those who died the quake.

    As I looked around me that day of mourning, most students and teachers and workers wore clothing in black and white and as the sirens screamed, everyone stopped what they were doing; many stood in front of the flag with their heads down, eyes closed, and with tears falling off many faces.  I too had to wipe my face several times.
 

A friend of mine at Jinlin University, China, told me that in the library, the students stopped studying and stood up early at 2:25pm, when the loudspeaker said “it is 14:28, we will mourn for the victims of the quake." I could hear the announcer sobbing.

I was a reporter I was there to report the news each and every day.  But the events that took place, and that are still occurring, boggled my mind.  The pictures in my mind of the vast destruction, the lives taken and the many homeless, took control of my reporting abilities.  How does one deal with such devastation and to report a million different stories?  After the shock wear aways some, it still is difficult to report.  But I did my best.
 

The week was almost over.  Last night, I stayed in the editorial apartment working on another quake related story.  It was late and nobody was around except for the computers, printers and other things you would find in a newsroom.  While I knew the country would rebuild and start again, I realized that I'm a reporter and I was doing what I should have done, to report! 

    How I wished, like millions of others, that I could do more for the people in the Sichuan Province. It was indeed a gray week for me.  But tomorrow is another day that will be filled with hope and a better day is coming.