They were planning a May wedding. Instead, Phai
Kak, 18, found herself dutifully handing out plates of rice as the incense
burned at the funeral of her fiancé, San Ren.
Gathered
at the ceremony were a clutch of older villagers, their faces deeply lined, dressed
in mourning white. A monk, swathed in saffron, incanted as palms were joined in
prayer; he later accepted gifts.
Ren, at
21, had taken his own life. The reason, according to local media reports, was
an argument with his mother about an iPhone. But that simplistic account
obscured crucial pieces of his story.
Despite
National Police figures saying suicide in Cambodia is on the rise and suicides
appearing almost daily in the local press, experts say critical underlying
factors – such as depression or other mental illnesses – still go unreported,
untreated and unacknowledged. And without recognition of the scale and causes
of the problem, solutions have been slow in coming.
Ren had
called his mother, Van Kehn, 38, to talk about a phone just minutes before his
death, but he also told her something that alarmed her.
“He said:
‘Mum, there are many police coming and surrounding the house, they came to
catch me’,” Kehn said.
Confused,
she asked her son if he had done anything wrong. Nothing, he said, and hung up.
Just 15 minutes later, his fiancée, Kak, rang with the news: Ren had hanged
himself; he was dead. There were no police.
The
figures on suicide in Cambodia are sketchy. The National Police began recording
suicides in 2011 and the number has been on the rise since, from 513 in 2011 up
to 743 last year. However, frontline services and mental health sector experts
were unable to confirm or provide a reason for such a dramatic increase.
What’s
clear is that these numbers do not reflect the true scale of the problem, as
they only signify when police have become involved in violent or suspicious
deaths by suicide.
Past
estimates of suicide rates in Cambodia have varied wildly, from between one and
42 per 100,000 people, or anywhere from 150 suicides per year to 6,300.
However,
the researchers from the Royal University of Phnom Penh psychology department
who came up with the latter estimate from a survey in 2012 have since admitted
their methodology was flawed.
According
to Dr Keith Harris, a researcher at the University of Queensland’s school of
psychology, getting decent data is crucial to suicide prevention.
In a
recent report, his team of researchers analysed two large Khmer-language
newspapers to find a number of suicide deaths, then used an algorithm to
calculate a projected figure, putting it at 3.8 per 100,000 people in 2012 –
equating to about 565 per year – a figure he says likely falls short of the
mark.
His
report found suicide death rates of men were twice the rate of women, and twice
as high for those under 40.
Statistics
aside, there’s no doubt the number of people seeking help for mental health
problems is increasing at a rapid rate – and Cambodia’s incredibly limited
mental health services are being swamped.
Less than
an hour after Ren’s funeral, on Phnom Penh’s Cambodia-Japan Friendship Bridge,
a string of motos and tuk-tuks stood still, their drivers dangling arms over
the bridge rail, pointing and peering into the river below.
A
bystander said a man had jumped. But moments later, dripping, he emerged. A
passing fishing boat had scooped him from the water.
Srah Chak
commune police later confirmed the 28-year-old man from Tbong Khmum province
had attempted suicide.
The man
had been suffering from a mental illness, and had just come from the
Khmer-Soviet Friendship Hospital, where he was unable to receive medicine for
his condition.
A motodop
took him to the bridge. He had no money, so he handed over his phone to the
driver instead before leaping off and being saved by the fisherman’s boat,
police said.
The man
was just one of some 500 patients to visit the Khmer-Soviet Friendship Hospital’s
psychiatric department that day, and according to its director, Dr Chak Thida,
the facility is overwhelmed.
Every
day, she said, the hospital received between 400 and 500 patients, and up to 50
of those are new cases, mostly depression and anxiety.
That is a
drastic increase compared with a few years ago, she said, when they would see
between 100 and 200 patients daily. But the hospital, with only 12 psychiatric
doctors, is under-resourced and ill-equipped to deal with the load.
“It’s a
burden for us, because each of our doctors need to treat 30 to 40 patients per
day for mental illness,” Dr Thida said.
“In other
countries, doctors like us would treat only four or five patients.
“We don’t
have enough medicine, and there are not enough doctors, and we have no time to
treat them attentively.”
Only six
of Cambodia’s 25 provinces and municipalities have a psychiatrist at their
referral hospital – Phnom Penh, Battambang, Siem Reap, Pursat, Kampong Cham and
Kampong Thom – with the latter three having only one specialist apiece.
Although
Dr Thida said awareness was growing, it’s likely that even more mentally unwell
people would be seeking help if there were greater understanding of the nature
of the problem.
Ren’s
fiancée, Kak, said it was not the first time he had thought about suicide. The
garment worker said Ren had tried to end his life two or three times since they
began living together in December.
“He tried
to commit suicide a few times, but my mother and I managed to stop him in
time,” she said.
In their
village in Russey Chroy commune, in Kandal’s Muk Kampoul district, she was
unsure where to seek help for suicidal thoughts and turned to the local pagoda.
“I
brought him to the monk for a water blessing. I didn’t know where I should go
for these symptoms; I had not thought of a hospital,” Kak said.
Despite
the previous suicidal thoughts and the strange vision of encircling police,
Ren’s father, San Ra, 44, was adamant his son did not have a mental health
condition.
“My son
has never been sick or taken any medicine, or any drugs, and he has never had
any mental problem,” Ra said. “Since he was born, he was very strong and
hard-working.”
For his
parents, the fact he saw a phantom swarm of police officers surrounding the
home bears not a hint of mental illness, but a spiritual premonition.
It was a
vision from a “bad spirit”, they said, perhaps the same one that forced him to
take his own life.
Compounding
Ra’s shock is his perception that children tend to use the threat of suicide as
a bargaining chip.
“It is
only that they want something, and they are afraid their parents would not give
it to them, so they say they will commit suicide,” he said.
Cambodia
currently has no suicide prevention plan and, according to Dr Chhit Sophal,
director of the Ministry of Health’s department of mental health and substance
abuse, when media outlets report suicide as a trivial matter – the result of a
love triangle or an unfulfilled material desire – they are mistaking “triggers”
of suicide for “causes”.
“Not many
Cambodian people understand that suicide is a public health issue or mental
health problem. Thus the awareness of suicide among the general population and
the development of support services are very important,” he said.
Dr Sophal
lists cumulative stress, mental health crises, family conflict, social issues
and substance abuse as root causes of suicide, while one unpleasant moment or
problem might become a trigger.
Dr
Sotheara Chhim, executive director at the Transcultural Pyschosocial
Organisation (TPO), agreed that suicide was not always the result of a
diagnosed mental illness – it could sometimes be due to “acute stress” that had
“overcome individual’s capacity to deal with loss”.
He
explains to his patients that depression needs time for recovery, but many,
like Kak, still believe a traditional healer would be the best solution.
A suicide
prevention hotline, he said, could make a world of difference. “They
desperately want someone to talk to,” he said.
“Sometimes
they don’t need medication, only someone who has the time for them.”
He said
it was crucial to train community members in villages in mental health first
aid, giving them the skills to recognise a problem and refer cases to
professionals.
Instead
of treating suicidal people “like criminals”, he said, police should be trained
to speak with those they find teetering on the edge of the bridge. “Instead of
pointing a gun at them, they should talk to them, understand them in an
empathetic way and refer them [to mental health services],” he said.
Dr Sophal
told the Post suicide prevention would be considered as a component in the
upcoming Strategic Plan for Mental Health and Substance Abuse 2017-2020, and
while he hoped suicide cases would be recorded at health facilities “in the
near future”, it was just one priority in a field with scant resources.
“The
[Ministry of Health] has recognised that suicide is a public health issue and
will take action to prevent it as much as possible within our limited resources
and capacity,” he said. “It is a resource-based approach, not a demand-based
[approach].”
However,
Ra said that in line with his Buddhist beliefs, his son died because it was
simply his time.
“When I
heard he committed suicide, I was speechless,” Ra said, blotting away tears.
“When
people tell me my son tried to commit suicide a few times before, I don’t
believe them, because everyone tries so hard to survive; no one wants to die or
would like to die,” he said.
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