The Corona Chronicles
We’ve all been there. You make a plan and try your absolute best to ensure it all works out and that everything is beautiful. However, by some ridiculously rotten string of bad luck, it rains. Whatever you had planned is postponed or cancelled and you stand there in agonizing defeat as the downpour declares itself as the victor. Sadly, you call it a day.
2020 brought us the Coronavirus; the perpetual plan-cancelling downpour of the decade that has only just begun.
It came fast and it came hard. You had heard loose talk about some virus that not only shared its name with a Mexican beer but also had a dodgy Chinese origin story. It was alleged that a bat may or may not have been involved but it was neither denied nor confirmed. You didn’t believe it and waited on reliable sources to inform you rather than viral tweets that circulated your timeline. It wasn’t long before the virus made its way to South Africa and panic ensued. This virus was on a world tour, and the busy shores of South Africa were rumoured to be the next leg. Of course you were scared, but never panicked and truly believed that it would end just as quickly as the foolishness had begun.
You thought it would all get better and you could go back to working, seeing your mates and going on romantic dates with mysterious casanovas who managed to woo you. But as the situation intensified and limitations increased, you realized the entire world could never be the same. Millions were left without work due to immediate closure of all non-essential workplaces. You reckoned the latter was a bit funny and muttered an annoyed scoff-laugh hybrid at no one in particular. As long as an individual was earning an income to support a household or oneself, it was all essential, wasn’t it? Maybe you were wrong.
The Rand was plummeting and purchasing alcohol and the widely-loved lung cancer stick was prohibited. Things could not possibly get any worse.
Oh, how you missed the noise of Bossa Nova and teasing your good mate Terri as she innocently worked her shifts while keeping an eye open for even mildly attractive customers. The bar was a place you longed to be too. You reminisced about you and Terri spending evenings there, making giggly conversation with the manager Kirstie as she made you her phenomenal cup of tea on the house because she genuinely enjoyed the teenage company. You longed for a glass of sweet wine to loosen the joints and fortify yourself because things weren’t looking good and sometimes, you liked to pretend that they were. Pretending was always the easy part.
Comparing the isolation to prison would be insensitive because of the luxuries you had before you. The pandemic didn’t seem to show any signs of departure and you sat in your home every day hoping it did. But you’re one of the lucky ones, aren’t you? You’ve got a cell phone, laptop, television and reading material. You can talk to your mates on the phone every day and experiment in the kitchen when the desire pushes you to. What about the unfortunate ones? You complain about missing your Judge Judy marathon or growing tired of the scenery you could never grow to hate. You are fortunate, and this virus has spared you.
painting by Carolina Antich
You didn’t have many friends and preferred it that way. Friendships are sacred and demand to be nourished with every fiber of your somewhat lonely being. You loved the people you called your friends because they kept you sane and showed you what unconditional love looked like. It felt like your heart was being hugged, and although you may not always see eye to eye about certain things, they were the people you wanted to turn to every time.
They helped shape you; shouting words of affirmation as you slowly learned to love yourself. You missed the affection and intimacy the most. The teasing accompanied by random pokes to the face, and the occasional friendly tap on the cheek. The unprovoked hugging, unplanned naps and comfortable silences. You missed all of it.
This was how you lost your mind. Days turned to weeks and weeks turned to months before you stopped feeling real and as each day lazily blended into the next, you could no longer blame corona. Your mental health faced a steady decline and you couldn’t help but question everything you thought you knew. You questioned religion, and love, and the myth of freedom of choice. It was then that for the first time during your isolation you realized perhaps you were The Virus.
