“The reward of a thing well done is to have done it.”
– American essayist, Ralph Waldo Emerson
TONIGHT in Kuala Lumpur, some of the country’s finest journalists will gather for what is considered the pinnacle of media recognition – the ‘Majlis Wartawan Malaysia 2025 (MWM 2025) dan Hadiah Kewartawanan Malaysia MPI Petronas 2024 (HKM 2024)’.
It is a night many of us in the media circle look forward to.
For some, it is the culmination of years of work.
For others, it is both a personal checkpoint and a professional celebration.
This year marks my second time participating in the HKM MPI-Petronas, and while there is a quiet sense of pride, there is also a lingering sense of nervousness – the kind that sits in your chest the night before results are announced.
It was the same flutter of uncertainty I felt last year. Back then, I was fortunate enough to be named one of the winners of the A. Samad Ismail Young Journalist Award.
That moment – the announcement, the walk to the stage, the applause – was surreal.
And though the lights have dimmed and the crowd has dispersed since then, that feeling of recognition still stays with me and has motivated me to do even better.
But this time around, the circumstances are different.
Due to personal reasons, including preparing for the arrival of my first child, I won’t be attending the ceremony in person this year.
As much as I wish I could be there to share the space with colleagues, editors and friends from across the nation, I have had to make peace with watching it unfold from afar.
Still, I am deeply thankful to the Malaysian Press Institute (MPI) for allowing me the opportunity to take part once again, and for its tireless commitment to honouring journalistic excellence every year.
Despite being physically absent, I carry the same sense of anticipation and appreciation in my heart.
If I am honest, there is a different kind of pressure that comes with being a returning participant, especially after having won.
It is not just about striving to do better than others.
It is about challenging myself to outdo what I have already achieved.
Throughout the submission process, I kept asking: Did I push deep enough? Did I tell the story with the clarity and heart it deserved? Was I fair, accurate and fearless?
This year, the competition received a record 545 entries – the highest number since its inception in 1980.
It is an encouraging sign of how vibrant and competitive our media landscape still is, even at a time when journalism faces countless challenges.
And what makes this year even more meaningful for me is the fact that my shortlisted entry is a special report on Mulu National Park – a place close to my heart, and one of Sarawak’s greatest natural treasures.
To know that this story, born deep in the heart of Borneo, is now receiving national recognition is humbling.
I am proud to represent Sarawak on this platform, and to have our landscapes, voices and stories acknowledged on a national stage.
Mulu’s grandeur, the resilience of its people, and its value as a UNESCO World Heritage Site deserve to be seen, felt and remembered.
And if my work has in any way helped to illuminate that, then I already feel fulfilled.
While recognition is wonderful, what keeps me grounded is knowing that each submission – win or not – represents a commitment to our craft. These are not just stories.
They are hours of interviews, sleepless nights, missed meals and endless rewrites.
They are our way of showing up for our readers and shining a light on what matters.
Though I won’t be there in person, my heart will be with everyone in that room tonight.
I will be cheering silently – and maybe nervously – from a distance.
Whether my name is called again or not, I know I have already won in other ways.
I have grown, I have taken risks, and I have told stories that mattered to me, and hopefully to others too.
To be shortlisted, to be read, to be considered, these are no small things.
In fact, in a world where attention is scarce, being heard is a privilege.
Tonight is more than a ceremony.
It is a reminder of why we do what we do: to bear witness, to question power, to record history, and to connect people.
To MPI, thank you for keeping this tradition alive and for giving journalists like me the space to reflect, to compete and to celebrate.
Your work uplifts the profession in ways many may never fully realise.
So, here’s to all my fellow finalists and colleagues – whether you are seated in the ballroom or watching from your quiet corners.
Whatever the outcome, we are all part of something much bigger than ourselves.
Because at the end of the day, storytelling still matters and so do the people who tell them.
The views expressed here are those of the writer and do not necessarily represent the views of Sarawak Tribune. The writer can be reached at sarahhafizahchandra@gmail.com.
