Sunday Times

Covid’s scythe has made ‘normal’ life a distant memory. Let’s ensure the new normal is better

- BARNEY MTHOMBOTHI

During the course of a random chat with a friend the other day, I nonchalant­ly asked after a mutual acquaintan­ce. “Haven’t you heard?” he said, his voice suddenly sombre. I tensed, as if I instinctiv­ely knew what was coming. “We’re walking over his body as we speak.”

We tend to resort to metaphors or other figures of speech to disguise or hide a painful truth, but death inexorably reaps its horrible harvest regardless.

In these times of pandemic, death has become a constant companion like never before. One is sometimes reluctant, even scared, to inquire after friends or even distant relatives for fear of being told that person is no more. And the virus is killing so many people that it is often assumed to be the cause of every death unless stated otherwise.

Restrictio­ns on gatherings, especially funerals, mean that people are often starved of news about even close relatives. Apart from the obvious purpose of burying the dead, funerals perform a vital cultural function. People don’t just inter the body and then leave. They hang around, mingle, chat and share ideas and informatio­n about the latest births, deaths and marriages; gossip about scandals, affairs, who’s driving the latest model car, who’s making it in the world, and so on. The jokes and laughter break the spell of a joyless occasion. Funerals keep us in the loop.

There’s also something to be said for the so-called after-tears parties that have gained some notoriety in polite circles for their exuberant merrymakin­g, which can seem to be a case of fun-lovers dancing on the grave without allowing a decent interval to elapse. Complete strangers arrive with cooler boxes brimming with their favourite booze to have fun after the funeral of somebody they never even knew. They too have their place. In their own way, they help to lift the gloom.

What’s so traumatic about Covid is not only that it’s so sudden and brutal in its destructio­n of human life but that — thanks to lockdown restrictio­ns that are obviously necessary — bereaved families are largely left to mourn on their own without the comforting presence and embrace of friends and relatives. That lack of contact — chit-chat about mundane things — slows the healing process and makes closure even more difficult to accomplish.

People who have lost loved ones will tell you the most difficult time is immediatel­y after the burial, when everyone has left and the family is left alone. Suddenly the gaping void left by the deceased, and the pain, are felt even more intensely. That isolation and loneliness now unfortunat­ely persist throughout the period of grieving.

After some initial reticence, probably a remnant of our Aids experience, people who have survived Covid are now fortunatel­y opening up and proudly sharing their experience. That not only demystifie­s the virus but inspires and helps others with their coping mechanisms.

It’s been an extraordin­ary 18 months, one long, continuous nightmare that looks no closer to an end. There have been pandemics in the past but none that seemed to take charge and consume the attention of the entire universe. Not in recent memory.

The Black Death in the 14th century is reputed to have killed upwards of 200-million people. Up to 100million people are said to have perished during the Spanish flu pandemic of 1918-1919. An estimated 36million have so far succumbed to HIV/Aids.

But, I guess, none had the worldwide impact that Covid has had. Technology and ease of travel are the game-changers. The whole world is not even next door now; it is in your living room. It is in the device in your hand. We see and consume everything happening around the globe in an instant. To see is to be present. And therefore we’re condemned to share in the grief and suffering of people we don’t know, and are never likely to meet.

But the success in fighting the virus we see in other countries has reminded us of the inequities that still haunt out society. We watch enviously as maskless crowds throng to football and cricket matches abroad while we can’t even bury our friends. Western countries are already talking about booster shots while we’re still struggling to vaccinate the aged.

It’s easier to try to shift the blame, but the problem is mainly of our own making. We were late out the starting blocks. It’s as if we believed Donald Trump’s nonsense that the virus would simply disappear on its own.

Last Sunday, President Cyril Ramaphosa looked relaxed in his gaudy shirt. For once he had good news to share: there are enough vaccine shots for everyone. At one point the virus threatened to become the same kind of albatross around Ramaphosa’s neck that Aids was around Thabo Mbeki’s. Still, there are people who succumbed to the coronaviru­s through sheer government incompeten­ce and dithering. That should be a stain on his conscience.

A problem we seem to have is a vocal, moronic minority agitating against the vaccine. Once again, a nation riven with divisions — social, racial and so on — has found another wedge issue. But these are illiterate Trumpians who should be ignored.

There’s been so much pain and suffering that we have almost forgotten what normal life used to look like. But what we should be concerned about now is the new normal that will emerge. What sort of a people or society are we going to be beyond the pandemic?

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