Day 3 of National Covid-19 Lockdown in South Africa, wherein the country is globally praised for setting strict regulations. Also day eleventy of mass racism on the part of middle class twats who can’t understand that ‘stay at home’ isn’t easy for people who live 6 to a one-room shack.
People in nice homes should go and spend a few hours locked in one room with all the windows closed and the heat turned up to full. While you’re in there, you can spend the time formulating a convincing argument for the poor to do the same for 21 days, or more.
Stats: – I had it wrong the last time, there was ONE death, not two, and that hasn’t changed yet. (The second death presented exactly the same conditions as Covid-19 but did not test positive. She was only 28). Infected cases : 1187 (this reflects only corroborated test results). I get my verified information from the Facebook page of the Dept. of Health. or the National Institute for Communicable Diseases. Their stats are updated every evening around 21:00.
At this stage the stats don’t mean much but at some point they will be very meaningful. Either they will shoot up drastically in which case we get very scared or they don’t which will mean we have done the right thing by locking down.
While everyone complains of frustration and boredom after only three days of lockdown it’s hit me that I’ve been self-isolating for much longer than that. It’s getting to me big time and I wish I had taken the trouble to go for long solo walks or drives or something during those two weeks, while I could have done so in safety.
Yesterday I woke up with a variety of symptoms. While my friend was googling them to reassure me that they fitted my sinus problems and not Covid-19, I broke down and realised that, despite massive suicidal fantasies, I’m not sure I want to die alone in an ICU ward. Thelma and Louise style over a cliff, maybe. A final peaceful sleep somewhere meaningful after a good bottle of wine, definitely. But alone in a hospital bed with not even a busy nurse to hold my hand? Not very appealing.
So those feelings formed my entire day which I spent mostly in bed watching the last few episodes of my current series – Gold Digger, BBC, very good – and I made no attempt to blog. By the end of the day my symptoms had cleared up but I felt shell-shocked, almost as if I was drugged. I managed to cook supper, though – seems to be the most productive thing I do these days.
Speaking of drugs, I would not get through this if not for my supply of sleeping pills because, even with that, I am not sleeping well. The end of the month is looming with its debit orders and wolfish creditors. Oh, what a time to be (still) alive.
And in other news, the army is out in full force clearing the streets of disobedient citizens. The soldiers know they can’t throw everyone in jail so offenders are given a choice: a cell or pushups in the street. Most are choosing pushups. Don’t tell the jogging deprived middle-class.
Today was a better day than yesterday, although I’m not quite sure what that means anymore.
Here are a few photos of the dogs of this household. Black one is Vida, my dog, and the other is Havana, my son’s dog. We’re super grateful to have them around and, as most cats and dogs throughout the world, they’re chuffed to bits that we’re in lockdown.