On the brink of slowly losing what used to be their comfortable lives, two people persevered and faced the music. They did not give up, still fighting and alive, and are now worthy to be called survivors.
Hasan Elahi is a Bangladeshi-born art professor who lives in America. After 9/11 and at the height of counter-terrorism, Elahi was suspected as a terrorist. The FBI spied on him and he felt his freedom and peace were slipping away. Meanwhile, hundreds were arrested out of scrappy evidence so he knew his own detention was only a matter of time. To prove his innocence, Elahi made his life an open book by creating a site for public consumption (including the Feds no less). He documented “nearly every waking hour of his life”. "You can even see the toilets I used," Elahi said. Though he admitted he could still sense the Big Brother on his life, Elahi feels safer now and is riding well on his celebrity blogger status to capture significant grants and numerous sponsorships for his works.
Former President Estrada was once king of our nation. He owned vast amount of wealth and was very influential to other powers-that-be. Cutting to the chase, Estrada was humiliated to the hilt when he was thrown out of power. He had himself on mug shot just like ordinary criminals and was later to adjust to a quite hermit life and hog- raising when he was “exiled” in a rest house. Whatever your political opinion about him, Estrada hit rock bottom only to rise again like the proverbial phoenix. Some sectors currently tease him as a come-backing kid capable of regaining the Malacañang seat. Duh.
There’s no common thing about these two people (fat chance, in fact, they don’t know each other unless Erap learned Google) except that they personify the words “survivor,” “fighter,” and “warrior”. Two people who opted to play with life like a good, old rockstar would. But certainly not all people are as strong, as resourceful, as cunning, as brave, as combative, as resilient or as thick-faced as Mssrs. Elahi and Estrada. Many people don’t have public adulation as psychological support or a doting affection from Loi and Jinggoy. What if life’s plays seem unbearable and you have nothing to lean on to?
Take the case of Jolina*, 12 years old. Jolina is all over Cebu local pages today because she tried to commit suicide by hanging herself in their living room. Jolina’s mother “screamed out of fear” when she found her daughter hanging from the ceiling, unconscious.
“Sugarol kono ning inahana, wala siguro ka-daug sa tong-its (the mother is reportedly a gambler and maybe she lost in a card game),” Barangay Captain Jovencio Lauron told SunStar Cebu.
Jolina is the second-eldest child in a family of four siblings. Her father engages in many odd jobs just to make ends meet, while her mother stays at the house supposedly to take care of the children and sometimes accepts laundry service. Being the eldest girl, Jolina obediently helps her mother and does most of other errands. She walks almost two kilometers to school daily. She is older than her age especially when compared to luckier brat kids.
Sadly, Jolina’s mother has other jobs to fulfill… she’s a full-time gambler despite their meager finances and a nagger to her children. I don’t know as to what extent but rumor has it that Jolina is the favorite object of hate when her mother loses to the card game called Tong-its. What sin in the world did Jolina commit to deserve all this in such young age? Again the question, slightly rephrased, what if life is literally playing against you? What is there to life when all your efforts are not acknowledged but instead rewarded with bad-mouthing and degradation by people who are supposed to pat your back for little triumphs? Where do you put the whole essence of life in this equation… when practically no one is cheering you on? No one even seems to notice you exist. I heard Jolina is a rather shy, silent girl and doesn’t have many friends.
Well… life’s a bitch… life’s a ****in cruel bitch! The concept of suicide is not much common in our culture compared to other cultures. That explains why we rarely have, if any, suicide bombers. The thought of actually ending my life (near-serious level at least) only occurred to me much later when I couldn’t get to finish my college thesis. Of course, thanks and apologies friends, I was able to finish my thesis and ditched that suicide plan hitherto.
When I was younger, I had a difficulty understanding why people commit suicide. Life to me was black and white then. I didn’t understand why Kurt Cobain shot himself. Lord knows, he was rich and famous.
I understand why Jolina did what she did.
I could understand Kurt Cobain now. I could even understand Ernest Hemingway or whoever.
But I understand Jolina better because I personally know her. She’s our neighbor and she used to buy a pack of ice from us with those sullen, little eyes. Next time I see those eyes I will remember that for me she’s also a survivor.
* not her real name
When Jolina Decides to Die (copied from Patskie)
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