Variety is the spice of life… and death

The news had an air of inevitability about it. “South Africa and Botswana throws up multiple Covid variants.”

Imust admit the picture of the southern tip of the continent vomiting copious quantities of modified viruses, at first had me speculating on just how many varieties of Covid the rest of Africa might spawn. I understand this one is to be called Omicron, which sounds more like the latest piece of hi-tech. Not good news anyway and bad enough to convince me that this insidious pandemic has quite a few more miles left in it yet. By now I think most of us will have known at least one person, if not more, who succumbed to Covid. And just last week the guy who cuts what’s left of my hair informed me of two more.

The first one mentioned was a former bar owner who, I have to say, was not really one of life’s good guys. He presided boorishly over a bar in our village for more years than I care to remember. He was rude, snide and over the years had acquired the PR skills of a Saudi executioner. I know it’s said to be “not the done thing” to speak ill of the dead, but I have never been known for habitually doing the done thing, so no… I’m not sorry he’s not around anymore. Although from what I understand, Covid, of any variant, is not a pleasant way to leave this world, so a soupcan of compassion is forthcoming on my part. The other departure is a very different sort. She happens to be a fairly close relative of the aforementioned hairdresser and was, by all accounts, something of a living saint. Not on religious grounds, you understand, but by dint of the fact that she cared far more for other people than she ever did for herself.

But to return to Omicron, by all accounts after an initial panic, it would appear to be less scary than at first thought. Not something to be taken lightly or dismissed out of hand, but also not as life threatening as was initially believed. From what I can gather, after ploughing my way through as much relevant literature on the subject as I could reasonably absorb, although very unpleasant, it is not as deadly as some of the earlier variants. What interested me much more was the efficacy of the vaccines that most of us have already had three times over. I understand that it will take a few weeks before this can be accurately assessed. The smart money is on the negative, but the good news is that – having once produced one effective vaccine, the epidemiologists are pretty sure that a successful vaccine against the Omicron strain can easily be manufactured. So we can all heave a possibly somewhat premature sigh of relief.

Not that my neighbour George is in any way reassured. When we met on our respective roofs for a sundowner the other evening he was as gloomy and pessimistic as ever. He seemed to be afflicted with an enormous grey cloud sitting just above his head as I greeted him. Without reciprocating he immediately informed me that in order to combat this new insidious viral threat he has purchased a new hi-tech mister, in order to rain down micro drops of disinfectant onto his, by now sterile family and himself. I think he intends them to be the last people standing.