My son was in isolation for 20 days.

Hope in April, Series

March 1, 9:02am, my phone beeps.  There is a message,

“Hello Mama, I have chickenpox”,

My first born child, Wawo, is at boarding school in South Africa.  I live with my husband and our two youngest children, in Gaborone, Botswana. Most of my prayers for my him are about his safety and that he will choose his friends wisely. I pray he will be diligent in his schoolwork – and that he will be kind to others.

His birthday was in two days, 3rd March.

I was leaving for Kasane in the 11am flight.

I called and found he was already staying at the school Sanatorium, isolated from the boarding house. His only contact was the school nurse and a visiting doctor, otherwise communication was through the window. He sounded drowsy when we talked on the phone, but said he was fine.

It is difficult to measure the extent of the problem when you only depend on the son, who naturally asks for very little.

On most days, that week, when I called, he sounded tired or like he had just woken up – but I’ll barrage him with a chain of questions;

“Have you just woken up?”

Are you sleepy/tired?”

“Ok, you can go back to bed, I’ll call later”

“Are you in pain or you itchy?”

Communications with the Sanatorium nurse was a worthy comfort,

His temperature is normal now and his blisters are starting to crust, which means that he will soon be healed and out of the san. I managed to get Mr Jones to get school work for him from all the teachers and today he sat and caught up most of his school work.

March 5: South Africa’s National Institute for Communicable Diseases confirms the first positive case of COVID-19.

March 6: Wawo is discharged from the Sanatorium.

 ” Wawo was discharged from the San today. I have never seen him smile so much. All his friends came to take him back to boarding. I am going to miss having him in the San. He is a very well-mannered child and it was a pleasure taking care of him.

March 6 @ 9:22am A beep on my phone, a message comes through,

“Mama, do you know there is Corona Virus in South Africa?”

March 15: South Africa’s president orders schools to close on March 17. At least 61 people had already tested positive for the virus, with fears of possible increase.

March 18: I fetch Wawo from the airport. He goes into isolation. The clothes he was wearing are immediately washed. Mum takes son through a drill;

  • We will deliver food to your room
  • You’ll put your laundry basket by the door, we will pick it from there
  • You should go out in the sun at 10 am each day
  • You’ll have warm water throughout the day
  • You’ll take Vitamin C tablets daily (each family member had their own sealed and labelled packet of Vitamin C tablets)
  • You’ll wake up same time as at school – and do your school work, as assigned
  • And so forth and so on

March 23: President Masisi orders closure of schools. Thus my youngest children were joining their isolated big older brother at home. What if they violate isolation rules? I could not could not concentrate, at work.

March 25: I left the office, for a seven day work break, to return on April 5.

April 1: Wawo joins the rest of the family. It is the first time he is in the main house since he arrived. He is visibly happy.

I had told Wawo he’ll be isolated, when he was still at school in South Africa.  It broke my heart, his siblings were not amused either. We miss him so much during school term,

“It is ok mama. I am used to it now after being quarantined for a week”

He lived in a self-contained cottage. He fixed his breakfast.  We saw him daily – and had some meals with him, outside in the open garden, keeping a safe distance. His utensils did not mix with ours. Whatever utensils we brought him food in, he cleaned and kept in the cottage.  Every three days or so, I sterilised them in soapy boiling water, mixed with bleach or vinegar.

We missed him.

He often came out to play his favourite sport, basketball.

My youngest son would ask, “mama, may I please play with Wawo?”

I know how much he missed him – and how difficult it was for him to not access the big brother.

Managing children when one of them is in isolation wears you out. I was worried about a lot of things. It was a struggle to function at work. He received school work daily, through email and I had to act the teacher.

What if they break the isolation rules? What if they don’t Wawo some lunch? On and on, I worried my body to fatigue.

2 April: midnight, Botswana goes into the state of emergency. It will last 28 days.

Botswana has 6 confirmed Covid 19 cases. South Africa has over a 1000 cases.

We are all present, let’s start

Hello family! It has indeed been a while. I am glad we are here, but sadly, in anxious moments. Our world is united in mourning. Countries are losing their citizens. Economies are strained.

But we can make it a little easier for everybody, can’t we?

It takes choosing differently, opting to be on the side of the those who calm the storms. Our world is scary already and does not need any more gory stories. Please join me in dedicating April to stories of hope. Look around you, find goodness, spot people acting kindly, celebrate them. 

There is little to no interaction with the world, this season, but may we go deep into our hearts, to search for good moments, for stories that made us. We may also have to think hard before we share the next story. Will it further dim or brighten the readers’ outlook.

Let us be the reason people want to try again, why they want to be alive tomorrow. Let us rekindle hope. Be here, this month, to share in my real stories, my thoughts.

Author in her home library

Botswana goes into a State of Emergency, from midnight, April 2nd, what will you be doing in your houses, with only your immediate family, for a whole month? I have a few things lined up, we will see how it goes:

  • I am a member of ‘The 5am Book Club’ and our April read is ‘David & Goliath: Underdogs, Misfits and the Art of Battling Giants ‘ by Malcolm Gladwell. You can join our digital book club with the link below and be part of our reading and discussions https://www.facebook.com/groups/552228005527480/
  • Writing and editing (my one day to be published book)
  • Doing Free Online Courses with LinkedIn
  • Creating a new courtyard garden
  • Sleeping more
  • Doing my 30 days skipping rope challenge
  • Playing with my family

What is your plan? Let us share.

I lived to tell the story

A few days back, we escaped from prison.

One of our chiefs, had locked us up in a Guantanamo Bay kind of detention camp.

It was a huge population of us, subjected to hard labour and inhumane treatment. Very sad and heart drenching experience. Hard even to see so much suffering on the faces of fellow inmates.

It didn’t seem like help would find us. The camp was in a jungle, hidden under a thick canopy of mahogany trees.

One afternoon Dintle and I escaped through a tiny opening on the fence. A laborious escape.

We ran for our dear lives, but alert that our lives were in danger.

We hid behind shrubs, some too small to do any hiding at all.

Not a word was shared between us. It was a solo and emotionally draining journey.

The thought that troubled me through this escape, was the chief who locked us up in a Guantanamo Bay Prison style camp.

He comes across as a level headed being. Kind and reasonable. An arguably progressive man. I worried, in this dream, whether I was dreaming, and whether this really is the man, I have admired from a distance.

The sound of hoofs hitting the hard gravel road, distubed my thoughts and swallowed our hope.

We could see him from a distance, riding a blood red horse, its face and underbelly decorated in splashes of white.

On his right hand, the chief, held a solid and long black shambok.

He was coming for us.

We held our breath.

We were dirty, new sweat dripping down old sweat marks…

The horse came to a stand still, the chief looked around as if to ask,
“Where are they?”

I have never been that scared, never had I encouraged my heart to hope, like I did that afternoon, under the unforgiving harsh African sun.

My heart hasn’t ached in a dream, like it did the afternoon of our escape.

Did we escape? I don’t know.

I was crying when I woke up. Scared. The dream stayed with me for a week and each time it crossed my mind, I panicked.

Thankfully it was just a dream.
A bad dream.
Ijooo.

Eish but I hope I don’t meet the chief until the dream leaves my thoughts 😅.
I might run for my life.