I don’t know if this is part of a bad day, or I’m having my ocassional moodswings. But I have this boiling anger inside. I’m seething. I’m frustrated. I’m sad.
Yes, I’m sad. But not because of the usual reasons you might think. I’ve been scrolling down my facebook newsfeed and I came across numerous status updates about Mary Jane Veloso’s case. She’s part of the people who were given the death penalty who was spared from execution in the last minute. That reprieve is temporary though. There is a great chance that her execution will push through.
Well, there’s this news report about her mother’s statement directed to the Philippine government. Apparently, she did not think that the goverment has done enough to save her daughter. It might be a mother’s grief talking. I won’t know how I’m going to react had I been in her shoes. Or it might be the so called “leftists” who wanted to take advantage of a bleak situation to further their agenda.
Sometimes it’s infuriating that humans should have someone to blame for their woes. They constantly need a scapegoat for the sorry state that they are in. And we, as outsiders, form our own opinions and add our voice to the already messy affair. The media will turn it into a circus. The government officials will see it as an opportunity to add color to their names. The public will condemn whoever the third hand information told them to condemn. A few enlightened minds will express some sense.
And we’ll think. Who is supposed to receive the anger, the frustration, the condemnation?
Some blame Mary Jane because she perpetrated a crime. Some blame poverty because it made the former vulnerable to exploitation. Some blame the government because they acted too late. Some will blame Indonesia because they still practice the death penalty. Some will blame the mafia and drug cartel because they are the root of the said evil. Some will blame the users who might knowingly or unknowingly decided to screw their lives by using drugs. Some will blame whoever genius started this stupid “war on drugs”. Some will blame those who benefit from it – the military, the secret services, the prison systems, the weapon industry.
It can be an endless blame game.
We can say that Mary Jane shouldn’t have carried a baggage that was not hers in the first place, and enter a country known for their staunch stance when it comes to drugs. We can blame poverty that forced her to go out of her own country. We can blame the human traffickers who recruited her. We can blame the senseless war on drugs that has not been effective for the last decades, only making situations worse than before and giving a seemingly invincible power to the drug cartels that benefit from the black market. We can blame people who have hearts that can’t be budged.
Humans will always be fundamentally humans. They are capable of both great and cruel things. They love and they hate. They are quick to punish and slow to reward. They are kind and compassionate. They are selfish and greedy. They believe war will give way to peace. They believe there is no God. They believe that there is. They believe they themselves can play god.
It is fascinating and often disappointing to know all the facades of man. If we can only have perfection then it would have been a different world. But then again, where’s the meaning of existence?
I just wish people will strive to be better, that they will have the chance to be educated – not only about the things that can be learned in the four corners of a classroom but most importantly, about the things they need in order to live in the real world. I wish they will be strong enough to decide for themselves and to stand by their choices no matter what, that they won’t let anyone make the choice for them even if it’s in the name freedom or democracy or whatever they call it these days. I wish they will not let religion, tradition, corporation, government and any institution dictate how they should live their lives.
I wish that they will let humanity win. I wish that they will stop dehumanising people, especially the poor and the minority.
I wish they will see humans as humans regardless of the color of their skin, gender, political views, religion and the bulge of their bank account or lack thereof. I wish they will open their minds to all the nobodies of the world.
Urgh. I sound like a righteous fool or a Mother Theresa wannabe. Forgive me for the rant and the foolish preachings. And before you wonder about the relevance of this post, let me leave you with a poem from Eduardo Galeano who can sum up perfectly where my sympathy lies:
Fleas dream of buying themselves a dog, and nobodies dream of escaping poverty:
that one magical day good luck will suddenly rain down on them – will rain down buckets
Good luck doesn’t even fall down in fine drizzle, no matter how hard the nobodies summon it,
Even if their left hand is ticking, or if they begin the new day with their right foot,
or start the new year with a change of brooms.
The nobodies: the no ones, the nobodied, running like rabbits, dying through life, screwed every which way.
Who don’t speak languages but dialects.
Who don’t have religions but superstitions.
Who don’t create art, but handicrafts.
Who don’t have culture, but folklore.
Who are not human being, but human resources.
Who do not have names, but numbers.
Who do not appear in the history of the world, but in the police blotter of the local paper.
The nobodies who are not worth the bullet that kills them.