Since Roberto Saviano published his book Gomorrah published and incurred the hatred of the Italian mafia, he lives in hiding. What that is like, shows the graphic novel I am still alive see and feel razor-sharp.
Roberto Saviano is 12 when he witnesses first-hand the murder of a man in his neighbourhood by the Mafia. Fifteen years later, he publishes a book about the feud between two Comorra clans that turned the streets of his neighbourhood into a battlefield. After the publication of this world-famous book, Gomorrah (2006), all hell broke loose; the Comorra wanted him dead and Saviano had to go into hiding and be under permanent surveillance. 'Everything would take a few weeks at most, they said, I could go home soon. Fifteen years passed. 5475 days.'
Caught
In the graphic novel I am still alive, with beautiful illustrations by Asaf Hanuka, Saviano recounts what remained of his life. And that is bitterly little, reads the sad conclusion. Saviano never returned to his own home, can never go for a walk by himself, no beer on a terrace. A love affair or a family, that too is out of the question. While the criminals roam free, Saviano is imprisoned.
He gets used to the threats from the mafiosi in a way, 'but I was not prepared for how mean decent people can be'. Equally wry is the fact that people who report that an attack is planned do so not to save him, but to save their own skin.
Do not be silent
Saviano draws courage from words of shining examples. Like that of the director of the French satirical magazine Charlie Hebdo, who was killed in the 2015 attack: 'Better to die standing than to live on my knees.' Or that of priest Giuseppe Diana, who was murdered by the Camorra in 1994: 'For love of my people, I will not remain silent.'
The Italian journalist also does not allow himself to be silenced and speaks out about social ills in articles. But the price he pays for doing so is high. 'One day I will allow myself to cry,' he writes in this haunting and moving graphic novel.
To cope with his anger, as well as his grief and loneliness, his body has turned into armour so that he does not have to feel. "Damn bastards, I'm still alive!" he shouts at his enemies. Yes, indeed, he is still alive. But whether his life can still be called living is highly questionable.
Roberto Saviano and Asaf Hanuka, I'm still alive (140 p.). Translated from the Italian by Anne Tilleman and Wilfred Ploeg, Spectrum, €24.99