A life in quarantine
ENGLISH
We thought it only happened in Hollywood, in films that win Oscars or in science fiction books. To me, the idea of the pandemic seemed somewhat remote, distant, especially in the southernmost country in the world, Argentina. There were few cases here, but as in many other countries, the virus came, started slowly, continued to spread, and to avoid becoming Italy, the country was closed. It closed borders, closed schools, closed neighborhoods, contacts, friendships: it closed life, because we are in what is called mandatory and preventive social isolation until March 31. Life stops and is suspended until the virus allows otherwise.
Argentina is a poor country, where for many the idea of the state of siege is out of fashion. However, in our harsh condition as third worldists we cannot afford to exceed a thousand cases -our health system would not accomodate it, our economy would not sustain it, and neigher could our psyche. Ergo, the remedy for the poor is not to leave home.
I have been in quarantine since Sunday. Life goes slowly but at the same time fast, because as they do not let us stop, I think I still do not know how. I am a teacher and suddenly I found myself at home with my three-year-old daughter whom I have to care for without assistance, with my physician husband, who continues to work because he is works in public assistance, and also with hundreds of students whom I must serve as virtual “customers.” I was forced in mere hours to learn to use web applications and even to teach in real time in a virtual way. They send me thousands of “What’s App” messages per day replete with directives and my body is uncomfortable. I don't know how to process these changes very well, I don't know how to divide my schedule, I don't know my responsibilities and possibilities, because the only thing I really know is that I have to take care of my family, and circumstances won’t let me.
No one teaches me to change the emotional mindset of my psyche, now fragile, now overwhelmed by worry, wondering if my parents in the city of Buenos Aires will be fine, if they will get sick, if I will see them again. But nobody understands that in my job, they force me to continue without letting me become aware of what is happening to us, of what is historical, of what unites us, of what forces us to be different, to do differently.
The quarantine is tough, we feel alone, we don't know very well how to operate, and with young children at home it is absolutely terrible, because for children under five, life is completely social. We don't have help, we just despair, and they continue to demand us, as professionals, as women, as mothers; and in the middle we are still human beings who are unaware of the situation, who fear, who feel, who need.
People queue endlessly to go to the supermarket, buy things like Armageddon is coming, and go for a walk at night hoping they won't find passers-by to infect. The children have become intergalactic vampires, overwhelmed by the amount of online tasks, prevented from complying with the school regime as usual, decked out by network bombardment and speculation.
I still think about this strange social phenomenon that invites us in the 20th century to engage in introspection, to shut up, to keep up, to take refuge and to think about what is important. Quarantine must be quarantined and used to list priorities, although the economy is transcendental, as is education, the important thing today is to think of our square meters, the other returns, it recovers, but our health and our psyche do not.
So, to those who are on this journey, I say: do not think of invented responsibilities, think of the immediate ones, of what surrounds you. Think about what you really owe, think about entertaining the little ones and enjoying that time at home, think about making passes with your conscience and stopping time to protect the soul, because this pandemic is like an educational metaphor: “In a world of overconnection, the best thing today is to disconnect .” (La Semana)