Coming home to the new normal: a Covid-19 story

L>R: Chris Mike, Maria, Jemimah, Abdi and Allan on day 11 of their self-quarantine. Photo: Abdiwahid Kadir

By Jackline Wanyonyi, coordinator, Media for Mentors Program, SDI Kenya

“I didn’t know which was worse, going home or realizing that our stay in India would be cut short,” Maria says. “I first heard of Covid-19 in December 2019—it was just something in the news that didn’t concern me. I didn’t imagine that would change.”

Maria’s Indian visit was for a four-month learning exchange to Salt Lake City Prayasam, a Kolkata NGO, together with four other young film makers from Kenya’s slums. The exchange began in February 2020.

“During our orientation our hosts advised us to take precautions not to catch the virus, by washing hands” Maria explains. “It still didn’t hit me how serious it was. All I thought was kuosha tu mikono (it’s just handwashing). I ignored it. I felt quite safe in India because it is a warm country and I had heard the virus can’t survive in temperatures over 26˚C. All the funny online memes just alluded to the apocalypse, but corona haikuwa imeni-hit hiyo design (wasn’t really trending)”. Jemimah, another of the filmmakers, also first heard about coronavirus in India: “I dismissed it, thinking that it only affected the Chinese. The story was that the virus came from eating bats and snakes, which I’ve heard the Chinese do.”

In the space of a month after Maria, Jemimah and their friends arrived in India, coronavirus news moved from the periphery to the center of everyone’s lives. The breakout in China became a global pandemic, the epicenter shifting to Europe and US. Countries are closing borders, going into lockdown. Airlines are cancelling flights.

One week, the five young Kenyans were celebrating Holi, India’s festival of colour where everyone goes out on the street and throws paint at each other. The next week, the world was a gloomier place—no Premier League, take-out instead of eating at restaurants, less hugging. The concepts of self-isolation and social distance were gaining traction. And suddenly, their stay in India was being reconsidered as the program sponsor, NOREC, asked its partners to consider sending exchange participants home.

Abdi tossing colour during the  Holi festival celebrations, in the streets of Dakshindari Colony, Kolkata . One week later, such a festival became unthinkable around the world. Photo: Salim Ganguly. — Abdi tossing colour during the Holi festival celebrations, in the streets of Dakshindari Colony, Kolkata . One week later, such a festival became unthinkable around the world. Photo: Salim Ganguly.

“It was a sunny Friday afternoon. Exchange activities were suspended due to the virus so Jemimah and I went to Kestopur market and the bazaar for grocery shopping and to collect some shoes we had bought,” Maria narrates. “I got a call from Jackie, our exchange coordinator in Kenya. Last time she called, a few days back, she said we could choose to stay or return home. Now it was different: we were to go back to the apartment, pack our things and leave immediately for the airport. It felt like punishment! To go home before the exchange was over. Not even halfway done! We hadn’t accomplished our goals. We had nothing to show, back in Kenya.” Another exchange participant, Chris-Mike, adds “the sudden decision broke my heart. Earlier, I had suggested that we stay put and assess the situation. I didn’t know much about Covid-19.”

They had known they might have to leave India if the situation worsened, but going so soon was a curveball. It happened so fast! Prayasam had written to their Kenyan partners, SDI Kenya, suggesting the exchange participants return home. SDI Kenya agreed and the next day looked into flights—the only available flight out of India was that the same evening. Jackie called the participants. As they set off for the airport, the Kenya government announced plans to shut its borders in a few days. They had just lucked it.

Media reports exacerbated worries they already had about leaving India. “Ile fear unaweza kuwa infected kwa airport (the fear that one can get infected while at the airport)” Maria explains. One of the narratives is that people who have travelled internationally are likely to be infected and in turn may spread the virus to everyone else when they get back home. So a stigma is attached to people who haven’t been seen for some time in a community—and its worse if they are suspected of travelling abroad.

“I come from an informal settlement, just like the rest of us,” Maria continues. “The thought of being infected and going home straight from the airport made me panic. I was afraid for myself and more of taking it home. In a slum it could spread like wildfire. We live so close to each other. We all buy water in jerrycans, this hand washing thing can’t work”.

Fortunately for the exchange group and their communities, a quarantine for 14 days had been foreseen and arranged. In a three-bedroom apartment in the leafy suburbs of Nairobi’s Kilimani area, the five are slowly adjusting. “I like being in this apartment, even though I am indoors all the time. I can hear the birds chirping and feel calm. I have an opportunity to reflect”, says Maria. “I am happy to be back home,” says Abdi, another participant. “It is scary, stressful and confusing being under lockdown in a different country, far from your family. The quarantine is a good idea, but it is difficult to be back and not reunited with family and friends.”

“I miss being in India” Jemimah admits. One of the things she loved about the Kolkata exchange was that the community was curious and friendly towards other ethnicities. The film makers found it easy to engage communities in their bid to document stories.

Chris-Mike adds, “Now that I am back in Kenya, I realize how serious the pandemic is. Our departure from India was rushed, but now in quarantine I have had time to read about the virus. Safety should be our top priority.” Maria comments, “we are observing preventative measures to protect ourselves: hand washing, social distancing even within the apartment, practicing hygiene like not touching our faces.”

“When I first heard about the coronavirus, I thought it was a small thing that would come and go. Now, I realize the serious effects on health and the economy. This quarantine is for my safety and others around me” concludes Allan, the fifth exchange participant.

With social distancing constraining their ability to document community grassroots stories, Muungano KYCTV’s filmmaking and photography activities will have to adapt to a new reality. In other words, thinking outside the box while sitting in a box.

Still, in every adversity there might be opportunity. This new virus has, in a sense, challenged the world to going back to the basics—and in the process it may bring to the world’s attention the challenges some people face in observing ‘proper hygiene’. In informal settlement, residents’ limited access to basic services—and especially the cost and lack of water available to residents—makes it hard for frequent hand washing to take place. People will have innovate to bridging the gap created by social distancing—teleworking, building virtual communities and remote schooling to deliver lessons via radio and video. But many of Kenya’s urban poor rely on a daily income or work in occupations at high risk of infection through being exposed to large numbers of local people or handling cash all day—like waste management, domestic service, local shop keepers and stall holders. How will they manage?

If one of the crucial lessons we can take from the pandemic is ‘adapt or die’, what will this look like for Muungano and other residents of informal settlements?