My three favourite dailies carried different headlines in their front pages on Thursday. One cried out "Save Our Selangor", another told the story of "white flag phenomenon", whilst the third dwells on the plight of roadside petty traders.
Suicide stories are mostly told in online news portals. To me, they all convey the same message ("our nation is in distress") and ask the same question (is help coming?).
Among those who started to raise the white flag was a 39-year old welder from Kangkar Pulau, Johor, Zulkiflie Samsudin.
He spent his entire savings during the pandemic, and was no longer able to pay his house rent, service his car loan, or even afford milk and diapers for his 1-year-old son. His eldest daughter is a person with disabilities.
He told a news portal: "I flew the white flag after seeing the campaign on social media. Surprisingly, aid has been pouring in and I am able to support my family for months."
Zulkiflie's plea for help came in the aftermath of a recent media campaign calling upon people who are financially distressed to fly a white flag to inform others that they are in need of immediate assistance as the country remains in what seems to be a perpetual lockdown.
For award-winning journalist, Frankie D'Cruz, this is now Malaysia's new face — "starving families are flying white flags outside their homes, seeking food and assistance".
He sees the white flag of hunger "as a sign of rising anger" against the current administration that "has failed to get the Covid-19 crisis under control".
In Kelantan, a single mother and her 14-year-old daughter who survived on biscuits for three days had flown a white flag in front of her tiny home after she had run out of rice. Her neighbours then came to her aid.
In Bukit Mertajam, a member of Parliament rushed to help out a hawker who was planning to commit suicide due to mounting debts. The man had flown a white flag in front of his house.
The samaritan MP settled all his debts, paid the rental for a new hawker lot until end of the year and bought him materials to resume his business.
Refuge for the Refugees (RFTR) founder Heidy Quah has the same distressful story to tell about the 1,700 families crying out for help. She told a news portal of the rising number of suicide cases, of the RFTR hotlines "blowing up on a daily basis" with calls from people who had practically no money left in their savings, and of receiving photos of "empty rice bins, empty milk cans and bare kitchens with no food to spare".
She added that "it's been a year-and-a-half of lockdowns, but sadly, there seems to be no end in sight." Despite its limited capacity, the non-governmental organisation is still feeding 500 families on a weekly basis.
On July 29, Health Ministry Director-General Tan Sri Dr Noor Hisham Abdullah revealed that there was an average of four suicide cases every day for the first three months this year, with 336 cases reported to police.
He said people who were isolated from support networks and under extreme stress were at higher risk of facing mental health problems, such as depression, which can lead to suicide. He added that whilst suicide can be prevented, "viral posts on social media can lead to 'copycat suicides' for those at risk".
On June 29, the federal government launched its latest aid package amounting to RM150 billion — the eighth package to date. The previous seven aid packages totalled RM380 billion.
Whilst the Pemulih aid package is welcomed, the pandemic situation remains gloomy. The positivity rate had reached 9.46 per cent whilst the infectivity rate (or R0) had hit 1.04 as at June 30.
As the number of daily cases has once again breached the 6,000 mark, many, including me, are wondering if the Movement Control Order and its various stages are working. The government, perhaps, may want to consider a different strategy?
The writer was a federal counsel at the Attorney-General's Chambers and visiting professor at Universiti Teknologi Malaysia, Skudai. He is now a full-time consultant, trainer and author