While everybody knew Nonoy Espina as an astute freedom fighter and rights defender, I saw him as a different person.

I saw a kind and caring father. He had taken me under his wing and treated me as his own. For a short time, I felt like I did have a father who was proud of me and what I’d become.

For those who don’t know, my real father passed away when I was a kid. Growing up, I’d always wondered what it was like to have a tatay.

Enter Nonoy.

I first met Nonoy when I was still starting to establish myself in the local media scene in Bacolod City. We got close because we shared the same passion and love for the job, and he invited me to join the National Union of Journalists of the Philippines (NUJP).

I joined the organization because I believed in keeping the press free, which was one of the things that Nonoy, my Tatay, was fighting for.

He was excited when NUJP Bacolod was reactivated, with me as the chapter chair. Together, we led rallies, roundtable discussions, and talks to further our call for press freedom. Because of him, I had learned to bring the fight to the streets.

Heck, I was not a public speaker. But because of him and his passion, I learned to express my thoughts and feelings during our protests. And yes, he would always give me the microphone so I could address the crowd.

There was a time when we organized this press freedom protest and nobody came from the local media, just a handful of activists from cause-oriented groups. I was so down and about to cry when he snapped me out of it. He made me understand that protest was not always about the crowd. It was about standing up for yourself and your beliefs.

Then he told me, “It’s up to you if we will continue this,” and we did.

Over time, he had become my confidante, my mentor, my friend, my Tatay. I would always run to him when I needed advice, especially when I was still running my own newsroom.

After he lost his job, he contributed an op-ed to that daily newspaper. No, he didn’t undermine me as editor-in-chief. He let me be, so I would learn how to be a good newsroom manager like he is – was.

When we had our NUJP conferences, training, and gatherings, and if they needed a volunteer for an assignment or task, he would always yell my name. Actually he would yell, “Annnnnaaaaaaaakkkkk!”

Yes, he would volunteer me without even asking me if I wanted to do it, or if I could actually do it. It’s like he believed in me. Like a stage father, he would always give me the spotlight.

And yes, like any kid to a father, I would get irritated because he was giving me more work to do (HAHA!).

One time, we were exchanging stories about our families and I asked him if he knew my Uncle Bing (Pagsuberon), a local journalist. He was surprised then said, “Tito mo gali si Bing? Gin sumbag ko na sang una (Bing was your uncle? I punched him before).”

He explained to me that he and my uncle had a difference in opinion about a certain issue, and it escalated very quickly. And we both laughed after.

In 2019, I attended the Philippine Center for Investigative Journalism’s investigative journalism conference in Manila, where I was also one of the speakers along with him and his sister, Inday.

I remember we were at the hall outside of the breakout rooms when one journalist approached him. I forgot who it was but he introduced me as his kid – his “eldest daughter” before he got married. (I mean, he had been doing that ever since he decided I was part of his pack. I even call his wife my Nanay Leny).

So this journalist, who perhaps couldn’t reckon how this regular-sized dude could have a humongous child, blurted out: “Noy, ang laki-laki ng anak mo (Noy, your kid is very big).”

And we all laughed. And yes, he had to explain how he became my Tatay.

But for others, he doesn’t care to explain. I’m an Espina. I’m his. This is also one of the reasons why I always strive to keep my credibility intact. I don’t want to tarnish the reputation of the Espinas – his name.

And of course, I always want to make him proud.

Back in 2018, we started a news page, Visayas Today, on Facebook. The idea came from a random conversation between me and fellow journalists Kath Cortez and Jhoanna Ballaran. And we appointed Nonoy to be our leader and he never hesitated. Our plan never really took off because we were also busy with our work, but I’m still optimistic that we can get it up and running in the future.

I’m just one of his many children in the industry.

A day after he died on Wednesday, July 7, I learned from Miss Gigi (Miriam Grace Go) that it was Nonoy who actually referred me when she asked him to recommend a Bacolod-based stringer for Rappler.

She asked him who I was, and he said “Anak.” (I just lost it).

Tatay, I know you’re in a better place now. And yes, we will continue your legacy, and of course, we will continue to fight to keep the press free.

Goodnight, Tay. – Rappler.com

Marchel Espina, a journalist based in Bacolod City, works for online news site Digicast Negros and strings for Rappler. She is currently a director of the National Union of Journalists of the Philippines.

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