When the flowers bloom

Cherry blossoms, called sakura in Japan, are truly a sight to behold, and blooming season is already here. I had already made plans of seeing them with my family at full swing this year. Several times, I even caught myself imagining we were already there under the prettiest spot in a huge tree-lined park brimming with sakura whose low branches bow toward the ground as if in prayer.

However, the tides have quickly turned against our favor. COVID-19 happened, and it took me out of my fanciful reverie. The sakura will have to wait until this nightmare pans out.

My penchant for sakura runs deep, and not just because of its obvious beauty but more so because of what it represents to the people of Japan. According to Japanese culture, the sakura represents the beauty of mortality, the brevity of life, and honor even in death. Unlike other flowers, their life is very short and they shed their petals at the prime of their beauty without the faintest hint of withering. In the same way, the Japanese believe that death should be tied to honor and beauty. An honorable person should die without losing his integrity and good reputation.

This belief system may come off as a bit too extremist for the rest of us, but it is the way of life for the Japanese from time immemorial. As such, Japanese history has been studded throughout with notable cases of people choosing to commit suicide, to “die by the sword” rather than live a life tarnished with shame and dishonor. This practice was referred to as “seppuku” or “hara-kiri.” Swordsmen also did it to themselves before being captured by their enemies after defeats in battle. High-ranking authorities performed it as an act of atonement for a shameful mistake or failure. Thus, these were considered acts of bravery and self-sacrifice.

The practice fell out of favor in the late 1900s, but there are cases that indicate that this ritual has worked its way up to modern times, at least in essence. In 2011, the Japanese prime minister resigned from his position after his perceived failed attempts to lead the country after a string of earthquakes and tsunami that had hit Japan hard. Several other officials, at separate occasions and for different reasons, have done the same thing after considering themselves incapable of doing their duties.

This takes me to our current COVID-19 nightmare, which has plagued our rather dreamless nights since the early days of March. I have been having trouble sleeping, no thanks to the litany of news reports and chat group updates on the situation. It’s even more painful waking up to news of colleagues passing rather prematurely—a number of them seasoned doctors who had spent most of their lives saving others. But still, no amount of training could ever prepare anyone fully for this deadly coronavirus.

One by one, our comrades have fallen, but everyone should know that they did so with honor and integrity. And that is more than one could ever hope to achieve in one’s lifetime.

The fight is far from over for us Filipinos. The forthcoming peak will be unforgiving and it will hit us hard. Our current frontliners, or what are left of them anyway, are bearing the brunt of this crisis, and their numbers are dwindling fast. Every day, they force themselves to muster every ounce of courage and strength before heading into yet another battle, not knowing if it will be their last. But what do they get in return? Politicians breaking head-on the very rules they set. People who lie about their travel history and exposure to the illness.

Enough is enough. We don’t stand a chance at defeating COVID-19 unless everyone, citizens and leaders alike, help our frontliners by also doing their part. I am not against the government, but I am strongly against people who abuse their power and position for their own gain.

Right now, I can’t help but feel disappointed and scared. Yet still, for the sake of my family, my friends, and my twin sister at the frontlines, I remain hopeful — hopeful for a time when, finally, the flowers may bloom again in this side of the world.

* * *

Angela E. Sison-Galigao, 29, is a dermatology resident at Southern Philippines Medical Center.