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2020-03-12
Such is life in Covid Time
On February 21st, 2021, one of my professors—while on an exceedingly off-topic tangent during a lecture about Medival Spain—flippantly remarked that in the age that we currently live in, there is now such a thing as “BCT” (“Before Covid Time”) and “CT” (“Covid Time”). According to him, we are currently living in both the year 2021 AD (or CE) and the year 1 CT. Our life as we know it, in the eyes of my professor and Julius Ceaser, is measured and marked by the birth of Jesus Christ and the contagious disease known as Covid-19. And just as it was for the birth of Jesus Christ, it exceedingly easy to pinpoint the exact moment when such a shift in time, from BCT to CT (at least in the United States), had occurred. It was the second week of March. Or, to be more exact, the 12th of March, the day when everything changed for a college student such as myself. On March 8th, 2020 (both AD and BCT), I had awoken as an average American college student in my dorm room. I had just gotten back from a spring break study abroad trip to the country of Cuba, and I was excited for classes to start back up the following day (and continue for the rest of the semester). Nothing was out of the ordinary. Life was continuing as we knew it. Covid-19 was an intangible construct at that point in time, some unseen nightmare way off in the distance that could not reach us. Nothing we needed to worry about, especially as young college students. There were hardly any reported cases yet if any in the United States. Everyone used to say, “oh, that Covid thing? Yeah, it’s just in China. Or Spain. Or Italy,” and then they would go about their day, not giving it any more thought. It was hardly even anything newsworthy. When I was in Cuba that first week of March, the only news we ever received (when we got signal or wifi, which was not often) was about the election, nothing Covid related. People even made jokes about it. That was just how life was in BCT, even a week before everything changed. Hell, even a few days before. On Monday that week, everything was normal, college life as I knew it continued—I saw my friends, got my meals in the ever so crowded dining hall, and went to classes with the max capacity of students. On Wednesday, the college Instagram meme page had posted a Covid update for the first time—there was a confirmed case not too far from campus—yet things continued as usual. However, on Friday, March 12th, 2020, almost a week after I had been partying it up in a packed club in Cuba with absolutely no awareness of the elusive plague that thrived halfway across the world, the shoe suddenly, and finally, dropped. I had shown up to my “Basics of Math” class to find that there were only five people (other than me) in attendance, and not even six hours later, we were given three hours to pack up and leave campus (pictured, me in the midst of packing up). I did not know it then, but we would not be allowed back on campus for another five months, almost 160 days in total. It is no exaggeration when I say that from that moment on, I felt as if I were a Depression Era family, evicted from their home, with all their belonging out on their lawn, with no knowledge of where to go from there. Even though I had my childhood home to go to, I felt, for lack of a better term, “out on my butt.” It was as if I was displaced, uprooted, cut adrift, and lost. I had not even unpacked any of my belongings when I arrived back home. I lived out of my haphazardly packed—and it was haphazard; I had packed up my dorm room in a sweat-inducing and crazed rush—suitcase until it was time once more to pack up and go back to college five months later. And my physical being was not the only thing that felt disoriented. Just as I imagine it was with most other college students during this time, the 2020 spring semester was one of my worst academically performing semesters to date. Although now, almost a full year later (entirely in Covid time), I am most adept at zoom life and the socially-distanced way classes are held, at the time, absolutely not. With every single one of my classes now on Zoom or some virtual variant, it became most difficult for me to adjust to the new way of things. Not even the professors knew what they were doing. Everyone was struggling. And it certainly did not help that my house had now taken on the most distracting nature ever to date. My sister, my mother, and my father were quarantined with me at home. That particular combination of people and location was about as conducive for my studies as it would be if I were studying amid an active circus. Not even when I was in class could I be completely unbothered. With no desk in my room, which I shared with my sister at the time, I was forced to partake in class and do my assignments while sitting next to my mother taking business calls, my sister playing on her Nintendo switch or watching a tv show, and my dad listening in on his own classes or playing the drums. It was a breeding ground for distraction. I would go as far as to say that I was lucky I even got the grades I ended up with that semester. It truly was an abysmal time. Although I certainly do not have to tell anyone that. Life as a college student during CT had proved most difficult. And it still has not entirely let up. Although for the 2020 to 2021 academic year we have thankfully been allowed back on campus, student life has not yet reverted to how it once was (for better or worse). Classes now have a capacity limit (with socially distanced desks, six feet apart), the dining hall tables now only sit two, we have to make reservations for every meal (to limit how many people there are at a certain time), you are not able to frequent any dorms other than your own, masks must be worn at all times, some classes are held over zoom, or even outside, off-campus travel is prohibited, and there are only specific entrances and exits you can use for every college building. College life—a time which was always regarded as the free-est time of one’s whole life—is now the most massively regulated. And all I can say to that is, “c’est la vie.” Such is life in “Covid time.” -
2020-12-01
How Covid Affected Me
A personal story about how Airlines suck mostly. -
2020-03-30
Covid-19 - A Caribbean Odyssey
30/03/2020 Sasha Gillies-Lekakis COVID-19 – A CARIBBEAN ODYSSEY The news of rapidly deteriorating conditions around the world caused by the Covid-19 pandemic first reached me on the tropical island of Cuba, where I was half-way through a 15-week exchange course. I had been given the opportunity and great privilege to study at two of the most prestigious Latin American research institutions in the world – the University of Havana, and the Casa de Las Americas, both cultural and academic powerhouses in the region. The Cubans approached the news of daily increases in global coronavirus cases with a healthy dose of optimism. My host family constantly assured us that we would be safe in Cuba – not only does warm weather slow the spread of the virus (apparently), but Cuba’s healthcare system is truly world-class, with an emphasis on people, not profit. In one of my very own classes, on Cuban public health, I had learnt of Cuba’s preventative primary healthcare that had created such a healthy, long-lived population in a continent where disease, poor hygiene and inadequately-funded healthcare systems had all taken their toll. So comprehensive was the Cuban response to coronavirus, before it had even reached the island, that I was bombarded with daily updates on Cuban preparative measures and the regional situation. My teachers, host family and friends had all received up-to-date information regarding hygiene practices, mask use and social distancing even before the arrival of three Italian tourists to the rural town of Trinidad in mid-March. I was very impressed, to say the least. Even the Cuban president Miguel Diaz-Canel went on national television to speak with a range of experts and explained in great detail what was being done to halt the spread of the virus. I felt incredibly safe in Havana, particularly considering what I had read of recent events in Australia and Cuba’s northern neighbour, the United States – where cases had skyrocketed and the responses were far from coordinated or effective. And not only was Cuba preparing its own citizens well for the storm to come, but they had selflessly put themselves out to help others, a show of the internationalism that has defined Cuban foreign policy. A cruise ship from the UK, the MS Braemar, with known coronavirus cases aboard, had been desperately searching for a port at which to dock for fuel, food and other necessities. Not a single Caribbean country offered the vessel sanctuary – except Cuba. The vessel was allowed to dock at the port of Mariel, in Havana’s west, a neighbourhood I had visited just days earlier! The vessel was allowed to recover the necessary materials and all passengers were sent back to the UK in a well-coordinated aerial operation. This decision polarised the Cubans – while many lauded the government’s response, others saw it as endangering the island. I tend to stand with the former. It was inspirational, particularly being so close to the event itself. The total coronavirus case count in Cuba had barely reached 10 when our program directors announced that our studies in Cuba had been suspended, and that we were to return home within two days following a global escalation in the coronavirus situation. Finding a last-minute flight back from Havana to Melbourne was incredibly stressful, and difficult given the fact that many international flights had already been cancelled. Eventually, I was able to get home – passing through, Havana, Miami, San Francisco, Brisbane and finally Melbourne. It was an odyssey to say the least! I arrived back in Australia on Saturday, March 21, after this gruelling series of flights. I was happy to be among family again, but immensely disappointed that I could not stay in Cuba – in large part because the US and Australia were imposing new border restrictions, and cancelling flights because they could not adequately address the situation. I returned to quiet streets, news of total lockdowns and continued Coalition government inaction in the face of the coronavirus. Meanwhile, just days later Cuba was sending doctors to fight coronavirus in Italy, Argentina and a number of Caribbean islands, so prepared was the nation for what was to come. While I would never consider being without family in these uncertain times, I still know that I would have been safer had I stayed in Cuba, the little socialist island that put the rest of the world to shame in the age of Covid-19.