It’s a precious thing, life.
It is also, as John Lennon said, what happens when you’re making other plans.
There the world was, planning, dreaming, fighting, politicking, loving, hating, friending, unfriending, careering, consuming, one-upping the
Joneses, stressing, celebrating, sporting, winning, losing - so many plans. But then it all came to a crushing halt.
Now people around the globe are wondering what the hell to do.
Before Covid-19, only the medical world knew what PPE (personal protective equipment) was. Ventilators were equipment in intensive care units.
Masks were used by robbers. There was a a “story” going around on social media about two men wearing masks walking into a post office and everyone was terrified. Once the men assured customers it was only a robbery, not the virus, everyone was relieved.
Now, tragically, we know what a N95 mask is, and how much of a global shortage there is of this life-preserving piece of equipment. Before Covid-19, these were for surgeons and anaesthetists, while other less structured masks were for builders and miners.
“Social distancing” was not in our lexicon. “Flatten the curve”: what? Lockdown? For inmates in a prison after someone escapes. Isolation. Quarantine. Screening. Testing.
They’re now part of the new world’s language, and the world as we knew it is gone. Nothing is as it was.
Every South African will have a story that will be coloured by Covid-19. Someone who has lost a loved one. Too many who have lost jobs or businesses and will be slammed financially.
More who are in lockdown on their own, struggling to keep their spirits up. Millions who are used to work-day space from the people they love, and now face stressful times with those people, who are just as anxious, and finding how to live this new normal.
Also tipping our understanding of the world is the emergence of new heroes. Society long worshipped the lawyers, accountants, hedge-fund managers, industrialists, sport stars, models, celebrities and politicians.
Doctors are still on that list, but there’s an army of other folk whose contribution to our lives we have woefully underestimated and, largely, undervalued and underpaid.
They are the nurses, the police (there are good ones), the supermarket workers, other first responders, refuse collectors, people who care for the elderly and disabled, NGOs and NPOs, animal welfare groups, cleaners, drivers and messengers, domestic workers - the list is distressingly long.
Journalists are in the front line, trying to get the truth to bewildered audiences inundated with a flood of - sometimes incorrect and dangerous - information.
Countries with the best health systems are overwhelmed, and anticipate the situation will get worse, sometimes even far worse.
President Cyril Ramaphosa stepped in early, even before some more advanced countries did to try to contain the spread. He and his team have an enormous challenge.
There is so much poverty, so many with no hope of social distancing because of the proximity in which they live, and many without even the basics, such as clean water. Many of our people are also made vulnerable by TB and HIV. The effects of the virus reaching these communities are chilling.
One of the ironies of this pandemic is that many people need comforting, but one of our most fundamental forms of comfort - an enveloping hug - is out of bounds.
What we can, and should be doing is being kind. In this time of limited contact, social media users need to spread kindness with the same efficiency as the virus moves from one to another. Let it go viral. And
#StayTheFHome.
- Slogrove is the news editor.