COVID-19 pandemic has not forgotten us

My friends and kin would rather we forget the COVID-19 pandemic, but the pandemic has not forgotten us. In our lives, coronavirus is a story of individual grief and collective amnesia as we commemorate in dignified but modest ways each time we look back, even five years since its outbreak. 

My first of many close relatives to die of COVID-19 in quick succession early in 2020 were Pulekeng and Nobuntu Mangwana. We experienced the pain of being unable to give them the best hospital care in their short time of need. We were unable to bury and mourn them following customary rites. Butterworth Hospital had barred visits to patients in the isolation wards. Funeral undertakers had adopted more stringent rules regarding the handling of the dead, placing the corpse in tight-sealed body bags straight away without being clothed to prevent infection. An acute shortage of coffins hampered funeral preparations, as providers struggled to keep up with demand and funeral workers became infected with the virus. 

“I am sorry, you cannot carry your relative’s coffin,” I said. As Lungani Mangwana and Mbongi Madikane looked at Nobuntu’s polished wooden coffin with white wreaths on top, lifted at sunrise from the back of a hearse by four men wearing head-to-toe coverings, their tears came thick and fast. And I felt helpless.

As one of the guardians in the family, my role at funeral services is to offer support to the bereaved family on the day. My instinct is to console and comfort someone, to offer a handshake, a hug or a reassuring hand on a shoulder when someone breaks down reading a tribute. But all this was gone during the pandemic. The virus did not stop for the dead.

Since the COVID-19 outbreak, we postponed many social gatherings we enjoyed attending, including weddings and other coming-of-age customary ceremonies. Funerals of some sort did take place, however, be they cremations or burials. We had to take care of the deceased. Yet the outbreak completely transformed these occasions, especially for those steeped in customs and rituals. A family could no longer travel in a limousine together; family or friends could no longer carry the coffin; attendees had to sit apart when they needed to be close.

Worst of all, in most places, there was also a limit of 10 people for each funeral. “Immediate family only” was the rule. But what if your immediate family consisted of 40 people? Who chose? Tensions often ran high; the stress and upset of deciding who to put on this list added to the emotional turmoil.

The pandemic created chances we never had before to examine ourselves and our needs critically. When it upended our lives, it gave us a rare opportunity to learn more about who we are and how we live. 

Of course, all of these restrictions were understandable, as we all had to make a great effort to contain the spread of the virus. But this was hard for people with broken hearts. We felt cheated.

The simultaneous changes endured by the entire villages, municipalities, towns, cities, and countries worldwide created experiments that could never have happened otherwise.

The successive virus waves also took a toll on us as we contemplated and navigated vaccination schedules. 

I also remember a January 2022 cartoon in one daily newspaper that featured a bedraggled man arriving at a doctor’s office for a Covid-19 vaccine. “I am here for the fifth shot because of the third wave,” he says. “Or vice versa.” His bewilderment as the nation suffered its fifth wave of the pandemic, with cases of the Delta variant rising sharply along with Omicron anxiety, captured a mood of exhaustion and simmering anger across the world two years after the deadly virus began to spread in China.

As we write the history of the COVID-19 pandemic years, we must dedicate a chapter to romantic relationships. Romantic life was not all about Valentine’s hearts and flowers, tables for two and tickets to exotic destinations, but also about kindness, patience, tolerance and the ability to pull together as a team in times of unexpected trouble. 

As for predictions of a lockdown baby boom in my social circles due to all the wild sex couples were bound to start having as they were trapped indoors – well, that gave way pretty quickly to elasticated waists, comfort eating and a birthrate that flatlined in 2020, according to national statistics. Like pandas, it turned out humans do not mate very well in captivity, and perhaps especially not if they already had manic toddlers bouncing off the walls with boredom.

The exception to this one has been the baby boom induced by excessive consumption of umhlonyane (African wormwood tonic), which enhanced the womb’s receptiveness, especially those of women approaching menopause. As a result, I am increasingly enjoying the company of Mthetheleli Mniki’s daughter - Nobelungu - one of several miracle babies in my social circles born during the pandemic

At another level, the pandemic wrecked my finances – and I am convinced I am not alone. My finances BC (before Covid-19) were already a fragile ecosystem. At a time when I was making ends meet, the coronavirus whirlwind moved the ends. 

I was not bankrupt – not yet – but on top of everything else that the coronavirus pandemic brought me, there was the almost complete ruin of my finances which for over three years were, to use a technical term, completely screwed.

It is easy to feel ashamed, but I realised that there are many people like me whose personal debt spiralled out of control. Fortunately, in the Year 2025 and beyond, life will always have new beginnings and surprises. There is room for the good, including good fortune and prosperity. 

*Nyembezi is a researcher, policy analyst and human rights activist.

Cape Times