Ode to 2020

(Chilliwack Progress illustration, COVID-19 Image courtesy CDC)

2020 was quite the son of a bitch, was it not? Never had the end of a term been so eagerly awaited. Like the banishment of a disgraced adulterer, it exited to the insults and profane gesticulations of the people it left behind. Although sweeter than the nectar served to the Greek gods of Olympus, its leaving did bring back nostalgia to some even as we cursed its very name. It started off much the same as any other year, hopeful and bright, like the unblemished first page of a new diary. It was only after we began writing that we realised, however, that the remaining pages were in-fact sodden. Whisperings of a global pandemic soon turned shopping isles into battlefields where only the strongest survived. Bog roll quickly turned into a valuable commodity, fought over tooth and nail by the same intellectual thinkers who would later turn their attention to face masks and their oxygen limiting capabilities. Lawlessness and savagery were the order of the day in those troubled times. The excrement finally hit the proverbial fan in Europe, devastating Italy with their ageing population. As the first cases inevitably started trickling into South Africa, President Rhamaposa took swift action, slamming the country into a state of emergency. The flag was turned upside down in the president’s household (citation needed) as the nation entered a country-wide lockdown. Businesses closed their doors. Alcohol sales disappeared. Bread isles emptied. Police patrolled the streets and sanitary product providers applied for VAT numbers. Cities became eerily quiet, broken only by the infrequent rumble of motor cars piloted by citizens with an apparent death wish, risking their very lives for sustenance from their local grocer. Did they even know there was an international pandemic going on? The first week of lockdown was probably the easiest. Most had prepared well. The epidemic was followed closely by all, producing a community of statisticians and doctors, all with their own, often contradicting, opinions. I myself got my facts exclusively from links I found on social media so mine were irrefutably true. Companies were forced to embrace remote working and homes were reorganised to support maximum efficiency. This created problems of their own: children and pets needed entertainment and education in this new regime. Relationships and mental stability would be tested, many of which were thought to be built on sturdy emotional foundations, only to be shattered with the loss of an internet signal. After two weeks, the first lockdown was coming to an end, or so we thought. President Cyril had other plans, pushing it back 2 weeks, prolonging the emotional trauma of the confined. Suburban wildlife thrived in commuter-less streets while home exercise gripped the nation; 10s of kms were covered on balconies, around properties and inside households. Virtual quizzes gained traction, participation driven peer pressure dished out liberally and without shame. Yeast sales sky rocketed as homemade bread and pineapple beer became a favourite past time. Those bold enough to try sourdough gained a new appreciation for the trade, the effort seemingly not reflected in its market price. Introverts finally glanced up from their books and wondered what all the fuss was about. As the year plodded along, online learning platforms started advertising free courses, giving us a sense of global solidarity and encouraging self isolation for the greater good. Yogi masters followed a similar trend, offering free live courses, igniting a fire of time-lapsed home yoga sessions that swept through social media. Lockdowns were now broken into levels. Having been through level 5, a downgrade to level 4 brought with it the freedom of exercise between the hours of 6am and 9am. Many a body was pushed too far after 5 weeks of isolation (despite the yoga), but physiotherapy remained as unattainable as an ice cold Castle Lager beer. Some embraced radical change, abandoning their luscious locks for something more manageable, throwing caution to wind in their socially deprived states. The resulting reflection proved too shocking for a few unfortunate souls who were immediately brought to tears, providing a moment of entertainment so amusing as to bring witnesses to the same end.

In trying to teach us the virtue of patience and the skill of self-entertainment, the year brought about unprecedented levels of boredom. We found ourselves snacking not for hunger but for want of something to do. Similarly, television was no longer as entertaining as it once was, becoming chewing gum for the eyes while pondering what to do next. Some decided on knitting, others on a new language. Ambition and motivation for these new skills made a good start, but alas, this was not a sprint, nay, but a marathon. Laziness came loping past after the second bend, opening up Instagram and putting us back in front of the TV. With level 3, 2020 finally allowed us some much needed socialising. Restaurants opened with restrictions on occupants while small social gatherings were permitted. The prohibition of interprovincial travel was more tricky to circumvent, citizens requiring affidavits swearing the changing of residences should they so desire to travel. Many unscrupulous individuals had no qualms in doing so. Although alcohol and tobacco were still prohibited, that was about to change with the implementation of level 2. Immediately, liquor stores were swamped, many patrons exerting themselves to maximum effort while carrying cases of beer to their vehicles. The subsequent binging over video calls got wildly out of hand in some households, occupants falling asleep at the bottom of staircases to wake up none the wiser, albeit in serious need of several Rehydrates, and a new spine. The wearing of face masks, the use of hand sanitizer, and the checking of body temperature were by now the new norm. As a result of the former, the stage upon which facial expressions usually performed had been curtained off, reducing space and making the eyes and brow the stars of the new show. Ill equipped to convey the intricacies of human emotion, they over compensated, creating inexpressible discomfort from everyone involved in the exchange. By now the smell of hand sanitizer had become engrained in our minds, everyone having their specific aroma that would forever trigger memories of the Covid-fornicating-19 pandemic. By the time level 1 was introduced, most of our lives were back to normal. Things were looking up indeed; alcohol sales were permitted throughout the week, curfew had been pushed back and international travel was back on track. How foolish we were to think it could last. We saw the virus ravaging European countries with a second wave, but we paid no heed. Although the irresponsibility of the youth could be expected, the same sentiment could not be applied to their guardians. The shackles with which 2020 had for so long hobbled the country's youth were shaken off in mass raves, with canoodling the favoured activity. And like a coiled viper, Covid-19 struck. As is the case so often with sets in the ocean's equivalent, the second wave would prove much bigger than the first. The timing could not have been worse with a fed-up, socially-deprived country heading into the festive season. With cases rocketing past those of wave 1, it was no surprise when 2020 dealt its final blow of level 3 restrictions to celebrate its departure. Some audacious few would blame government unpreparedness, knowing full well the irresponsible social activities in which we had all been engaging. And so, it was in relative isolation that we bade thee adieu, 2020. You may have taught us a great deal, but you made us fear human contact, changed the way we socialise and do business, flattened our economies, and ruined our prospects of finding love.

Go take a flying f*ck at a rolling doughnut, you good-for-nothing, ne're-do-well, loathsome vermin.

Good riddance.