When I first heard there was a new contagious disease that had broken out in China and was spreading like wildfire to other countries, I never thought it would arrive in Africa, more especially Botswana.
However, after reporting the first confirmed case of the virus on March 30, 2020, government moved very quickly, declared a State of Emergency and subsequently imposed an initial 28 days' lockdown on April 2 2020.
All this did not only come as a shock to me but as a feeding mother of a two-month-old baby, I was scared to death. The thought of getting sick from a new virus or losing loved ones put my stomach in knots. I feared for both my children and my life. At the time, nobody understood much about the disease except that contact with an infected person would spread the disease. We also heard that the virus posed a great danger to one's life and death was highly likely as there was no cure at the time. The real stuff of nightmares.
That Easter, my dream was of going to my home village, spending time with my extended family and having prayer nights there, which is a family tradition where we ask for blessings, protection and strength from God. However, we had no choice but to do all that from wherever we were because we could not go anywhere.
I’ll never forget how my Zion Christian Church (ZCC) aunt and husband, who had never missed going to Moria on Easter Holidays, had their trip cancelled and lost the money they had worked hard for.
Movements were restricted and we had to apply for permits even to go to the shops to buy groceries. Police were all over and one could be charged just for stepping out of their homes. It was a disaster.
To make things worse, not only my Easter holidays were ruined but also in that particular year, I spent my holidays homeless. I lost my house to arson. It was burnt by thieves who to date are walking scot-free because they were never identified. Through that fire I lost everything I had ever worked for. Just a night away from home to make sure that my loved ones had enough food through that difficult time, and then poof, I lost everything.
However, I am grateful that I did not lose any loved one to that fire. My mother, who was spending time with me taking care of my newly born son and my young brother, managed to escape both the fire and the culprits. For a minute I thought I would lose my sanity from losing everything in a burnt rented house, while at the same time, other loved ones were passing away from COVID.
The sad thing is that we could not bury loved ones as they died of COVID 19 because their bodies would be taken straight from the hospital to the cemetery. At that time, only a few family members were allowed to go and bid them good bye. Those days we knew that once our loved ones were admitted at the hospital with COVID, the chances of seeing them again were slim to none. No patient visits were allowed at hospitals during that time and yet if the loved one succumbed to the disease, they would be buried without us.
The pandemic also stole our livelihoods. Those Easters three years ago, many had to pray for food baskets from government. It was hard more especially for people living with chronic illnesses and SMEs who depended on their ‘hustles’ for survival. Hunger hit many homes and many had flocked their regional councils demanding food baskets.
When we thought things would go back to normal after six months, we saw the government extending the state of public emergency where there was restriction of movement, bans on gatherings, wearing of masks in most places, use of sanitisers and others.
As we celebrate the death and resurrection of our Lord Jesus Christ, we also need to appreciate the fragility of life and how easily it can be disrupted or even taken away from us. This Easter, this is my prayer.
