Voices

Shocking deaths quickly fade from our memories

By Ai Yang (China Daily)
Updated: 2010-06-03 07:56

About two years ago, someone I knew - let me refer to her as "G" - committed suicide. She jumped from the eighth floor of our university dorm building, ending her 22 years of life.

It was a quiet afternoon - perhaps like the one you just had, or about to have today - and I was in front of my laptop doing something that I have since long forgotten, a mere door away from G's dorm. The sudden screams of G's roommate didn't register with me at all when they first pierced the walls. I thought it was just another drama queen being her usual self.

Then, as lots of doors along the corridor swung open and girls in pyjamas and slippers hurried toward my neighbor's room, I realized the drama was real.

G jumped off from the balcony when her roommate stepped into the bathroom, in the middle of comforting her for some minor misfortune in the life of the would-be graduate.

The moment she was out of G's sight, there was silence. Seconds later came the roommate's hysterical cries as she saw G's body eight floors below.

In the following days, G's parents, with a group of grieving relatives, flew thousands of kilometers from their hometown to collect what was left of their only child.

Until today I can still remember the family's rather solemn presence, accompanied by the men's occasional deep, rough voices in the background and the thick, strong smell of cheap cigarette smoke that seemed to have stayed in the corridor longer than they possibly could.

The troubles causing G's jump gradually unfolded and everybody learned them and the relevant rumors quickly. But any reason leading to this, or other suicide cases, would be nothing compared to their deaths. Problems can be solved, but deaths cannot be reversed.

Perhaps it's because I've experienced, albeit a bit remotely, the happening and aftermath of someone abruptly finishing his or her life that I feel more than just a bystander when I hear about other suicides. Each has begun to feel more personal.

As I write, 13 attempted suicide cases have been reported from the electronics giant Foxconn's production base in Shenzhen, with 10 dead. It's like hearing the piercing screams of G's roommate again. The Foxconn stories didn't alarm me until the numbers mounted. It seems suicide has become an infectious disease, in real terms.

But every time I read it on the news, it is more than a growing number. Another unfamiliar name, another young person. Again it's their young ages that affect me. They remind me of G.

They also remind me how quickly she had faded from my memory. Her death was only two years ago.

Perhaps I wouldn't have thought of her at all were it not for the Foxconn deaths. Perhaps those workers will soon be forgotten and not thought of until another dramatic incident takes place. People get shocked for a moment, but for those unrelated, that moment fades sooner rather than later.

In all these suicide cases, I don't know which is more pitiful - their wasted deaths or the fact that the world carries on without them just as fine. That is a question that does not need to be answered, for the answer will not change what has happened. But for the living, thankfully, we still have the chance to think over many things.

In memory of G, and those Foxconn workers who are gone, but left much for us to think about.