TODAY a year ago, on March 11, the World Health Organisation declared Covid-19 a pandemic. Most of us probably don’t even remember that date.
At that stage it was all a bit distant, happening over there in Europe and Asia. But I am sure we all remember that mind-blowing Monday, March 23rd, when President Ramaphosa announced lockdown. It was such a startling, life-changing event. I was at the lovely Sani Lodge Backpackers in the Drakensberg, over-nighting before starting the five-day Giant’s Cup hiking trail, planned many months before. How beautiful the Drakensberg was, green and majestic, and later a thunder and lightning storm so intense that three of the kitchen staff crept into a storeroom to pray. Then the owner came to tell us that the president was going to make an announcement that evening “to do with the coronavirus”. Now this was a basic place, so no TV, but there was one spot in the dining room that had Wi-Fi, so we took our wine and gathered there to watch on our phones. It was hard to take in. Did he really say we would not be allowed out of our homes except to buy food and medication, we asked each other? Bottle stores closed? No cigarettes? Public gatherings banned? No travelling anywhere after that Thursday? But on that Thursday we would still be high up in the Drakensberg, only on day 3 of the five-day hike. “Ag,” one of the group said, “surely it won’t matter if we are a bit late. Let’s still do the hike.” “Yeah! I’m in! Who will care if we travel after lockdown?” I agreed. So we had another glass of vino and then hit the sack. I woke up at 4am, when the wine had worn off and reality taken its place. I realised how crazy we were to think we could still do the hike. We might get arrested for travelling. The provincial borders were closing and we had to get through two. Soon as it was light I went to talk the others. As I walked in, they looked up and said: “We don’t think we should do the hike.” An hour later we were driving through KZN, googling to find a possie to stay that night. No go. Everyone was closed so their staff could get home before lockdown. Eventually a guesthouse in Queenstown said we could stay, but there was no kitchen or bar as the staff had left. We had take-away pizzas on the stoep. The next night we found a place in Plett where the staff had also left – and the caretaker had started painting the place so we had to walk around ladders. Next stop home, and frantic stocking up. What a year. Some of you have had Covid, some have lost loved ones, others have gone under financially. It has been tough. But most of us are still here, pulling ourselves up by our bootstraps. As Churchill said: “We shall draw from the heart of suffering itself, the means of inspiration and survival.” A toast to us all.
