The Trip That Didn't Happen

The scenario: breaking news from the wires that a ferry sank off the coast of Sumatra.

Starting point was Batam, less than an hour's ferry ride from Singapore.

Editor jumps to action, mobilises me with few instructions except... get to Batam and give an on-the-ground report.

I speed home, grab the passport, throw some supplies together and peel off to Harbourfront.

Realising there are THREE ports in Batam, I check with all the counters to figure out where the doomed ferry left from.

Turns out, it's not the port of call popular with Singaporeans and is well developed.

Instead, it's the port that does not even have a hotel close by and the last ferry would have left for Singapore before I even arrive at the port.

Panicking, I call for further instructions.

Boss: get there, file a report, and take a taxi to Batam Centre.

Cameraman with me is not happy with the plan. Gives me a once over look and declares that it's not safe for a female to be traipsing in the night in an ulu part of Batam.

A battle of word ensues with my editor. To go or not to go?

That's when I was asked pointblank - am I afraid to go?

Yes, I say. My stomach was blanching at the idea of driving in the dark in Batam, racing to get to the town centre. As the cameraman says bluntly, the roads are not lit, you do not even know if the taxi driver is leading you in the wrong direction. Bribes are one thing, but as a female, worst things can be done to you.

Me to cameraman: would you have gone if I was a male reporter?

(without no hesitation) cameraman says yes.

Indeed. And for the first time, I truly felt the weight of being a female journo.