COVID STORIES

I have always found it interesting that almost every crime TV show has an episode that deals with a virus outbreak. First two or three deceased are always treated as “died under mysterious circumstances,” brushed aside, until four, five, six, ten more cases pop up, and after the situation rapidly progresses, the world is in the state of a pandemic. The newly discovered virus is then treated as an attack of a terrorist organization, a mysterious biological weapon used to cleanse the society. The world population is in a state of shock, desperately trying to invent the cure, the government is covering up the seriousness of the situation and uses it as a way to manipulate citizens. And every single time that I find myself feeling afraid after watching these kinds of episodes, I contemplate the possibility of this horrible thing actually happening.

And so it happened.

At first, I took it lightly. “Deadly virus? Pandemic? Yeah, right.” I thought. Then the schools started closing. Restaurants and coffee shops, libraries and workplaces. One after another. Paranoia and fear started settling in. They said it was going to be like this for two weeks, at most. “This is not bad, a spring holiday,” every student thought. But the two weeks passed quickly and in front of me were multiple platforms customized for online classes, loads of school work, material and exercises to be reviewed and finished by the beginning of April.
I didn’t notice March passing by me that fast. I was already pretty used to not going out and spending the days at home, especially during winter and spring, since this period of the year is pretty tame and quiet in Herceg Novi. But this time, it hit me differently. Previously, it was my decision to stay at home, I knew that I could go out anytime I wanted. But this time, I was trapped against my will and it made me feel like I was slowly losing my mind.
My friends and I were joking about having mental breakdowns that resulted in dyeing our hair, cutting our bangs, rearranging our whole apartments and counting grains of dirt in our yards, but we were sincerely feeling like that was our only way of coping with the unnerving feeling of fear that lurked in our environment. That amount of fear naturally makes you feel like you’re descending into madness.
April was a month of school work, preparing for the graduation exams, and military officers roaming our (otherwise calm) streets after the curfew. The sight was almost unbearable to watch and soon, anger replaced fear. I am angry that I am finishing school from my couch. I am angry that I have to wait for God knows how long until I see my friends again. I am angry that so many people died, and no one seems to care about the state of health institutions, and providing services good enough to treat the patients. I am angry that so much false information is circulating and people are falling victim to the faulty leaders talking about the “better tomorrow.” May is here, and my anger doesn’t seem to go away.
My graduation is approaching, and I know that I won’t be able to celebrate it the usual way: walking down the stairs of the main square and dancing the traditional dance called quadrille, while the younger students and parents are watching. I was really looking forward to it, as it is a pretty important cultural thing, and a favorite event of every senior finishing high school.
But this virus didn’t affect just that tradition – it changed the whole lifestyle of Montenegrin people. We used to spend the early summer days relaxing on the beaches, grabbing our “first morning coffee” in the coffee shops by the sea and preparing for the arrival of many tourists from various countries. Now I spend my days on the balcony of my apartment, where I have the most similar sensation of being outside, chatting with my online friends. We are all sharing the same feelings, and we’ve concluded that we’ve had enough. It is time to do something positive, and enjoy ourselves for at least one day.
We threw a Zoom graduation party. It was fun to sit down and get our minds off the pessimistic topics. But the very next morning, the same feeling of misery came back, and we were back to square one, until another month comes and goes.
It is June. I graduated high school, I passed my entrance exams – from my couch – and I got into university in Serbia, without crossing my doorstep. I can finally go out freely, visit my favorite bars, coffee places, catch up with my friends and make up for all the days that I spent glued to my bed. Although there are no new cases in my country, and the airports started operating again, there are no tourists yet. It is empty, quiet, and unusual. At least I can give myself the luxury of feeling at ease. July is soon to come, and my summer can at last feel like a proper summer – minus the foreign visitors and numerous concerts and gigs of the local bands. My mind is clearer, my mood is lifted, and once again, I can see the positivity around me. Soon, I’ll be moving to another country, for the sake of attending university classes, but hopefully, this global situation is resolved by the end of the year, and we can all go back to our previous lives that we forgot we had, before COVID laid its hands on them.

 

 

Valentina Jovanovic age 18, Herceg Novi, Montenegro

Our lives’ norms have slightly changed over the past five and a half months, well, approximately. No nation in the world has not been struck by the pandemic that is rapidly robbing people of their health, and, sorry to say, loved ones. Schools have been shut down, with no assured date of reopening. Face masks, social distancing, curfews, and lockdowns have been implemented with no doubt, apart from a negligible number of outlaws, the rules have been followed to the letter.

One question though, how are people around the world coping? With their jobs closed down, it’s a bit difficult for parents to handle their kids, keeping in mind that schools are more of daycares even for teenagers, and parents do not need to keep a hawk-eye on their children.

Here’s how we, are dealing under the negative circumstance.

My name is Eddie. Well, basically that’s my nickname. I’m Edwin Ng’ang’a, I’m seventeen years old and basically based in Kenya all my life. I am in my third year of high school. Sad truth, I’ll have to repeat, after our Cabinet Secretary for education said so. We have been home here in Kenya since March eighteenth.

Being home means teenagers are being exposed to a lot of vices in the country. That is why I came up with a way to keep my friends and I busy in order to avoid succumbing to the negativity in life.

I have been on YouTube frequently, so this idea struck my best friend and I. How about we come up with our own YouTube channels! Believe me, it was a good idea. So, we created the channels, and now we are all hooked to creating Sci-Fi videos.

I am certain that our work will bear fruit, and we’d like to be in a position to grow and educate others. We hope we’ll have helped several kids around the globe, saved them from drugs, addictions, and early teenage pregnancies, such as those in our country. It’s sad when age mates watch their fellow age mates’ downfall. We might not be strong enough for the world, but at least our aims are.

We surely hope that students who read this article will follow our tracks. The road might be winding over and over again, but hey! Our legacies are in our sights! So, let’s keep up the pace!

Anyone wishing to know how we edit, we are soon releasing tutorials, on our YouTube channels.

My Channel: @Edd!e Hunter

What can I say about the coronavirus that hasn’t been said? I want to be honest and the fact of the matter is, if I’m honest, — you reading this wherever you are in the world may rue me for it. The reason I say so is because here in Tokyo, the notion of a global pandemic seems to have been forgotten.

At least, that’s what it seems like to me.

I was out last night in Shibuya, an area popular for its restaurants, bars, and shopping establishments. I imagine for someone whose never been to Japan and whose only knowledge of the country comes from popular culture, Shibuya is what they visualize. Neon lights, an assortment of subcultures come to life, and maddening crowds all going this way and that. Several months ago, that dream lay dead at the feet of coronavirus, the place turned desolate with little trace of its usual festivity. Only, as time heals all wounds and even has the power of resurrection, Shibuya’s returned to its glory, as was the case last night when I met friends and drank and enjoyed myself.

This is as much a reason for my guilt as it is for my joy. While the virus continues to rage around the world, leaving families torn and businesses bankrupt, I’m in Tokyo going out on Fridays like nothing’s changed. It’s easy enough being in the position I am where having just graduated university, I can still lean on my parents to provide the fundamentals for living other people may be fighting for. Money, food, tomorrow. I have to worry about none of those and I’m lucky for it.

My life, although shaken up at the onset of the virus in Japan, has not fallen into the gutters as is the case with some. There were many others, my age and older out last night so the city rang with laughter and drunken reveling, no one following social distancing rules and all the better for it, we were so happy. Then, come morning I woke to the gloom of a hangover. How to overcome it is the biggest of my problems this Saturday. The minutes pass like ants on a hill and I’m only trying to get through it until night when I’ll have dinner with my family, — my father suggested a local Chinese eatery we’d been frequenting for some years now. Afterwards, I’ll meet some friends and repeat.

I’ve reached the light at the end of the tunnel.

The darkness was far back when for weeks I couldn’t meet anyone who didn’t live nearby. During that time, a lockdown was imposed but it wasn’t mandatory. I could go for walks and some restaurants remained open, albeit, there were few customers. It was early April, when, in response to the rising number of cases, a nationwide state of emergency was declared that people really panicked. However, unlike other countries where governments could legally authorize closure, that was not the case in Japan. Educational facilities, entertainment facilities, and recreational facilities were asked to close and while most abided by this request, those that didn’t could only be publicly shamed or peer pressured.

The response was typically Japanese, most followed but some remained open out of necessity. Weeks went on under these guidelines. Personally, the only change I felt was a greater reluctance to ride any form of public transportation, but that’s not to say they weren’t operating as normal. During the state of emergency, there was unrest amongst business stemming from a lack of financial support and uncertainty for the future. By the time cases dropped to lower double digits daily, the consensus of the populous was that rebooting the economy was the number one priority.

The state of emergency was lifted in three stages. By June 19^th, all businesses reopened with certain measurements for some, such as bars not being allowed to serve alcohol past 10 pm. That has since stopped. People have returned to flood areas like Shibuya, most wearing masks. Two weeks after the state of emergency was lifted, daily infections skyrocketed and surpassed the number of cases in April. However, by then it was hard to re-impose a lockdown. There are still several hundred daily cases across the country but people’s response to it now is dependent on the individual. I’m sure some remain quarantined in their homes but most seem to have accepted the reality of living side by side with coronavirus until a vaccine is developed.

So, that’s what I have to say about my experience. To anyone reading this in the midst of their darkness with no vision of light, I hope at least you and your loved ones are healthy. Unfortunately, condolences are all I can offer.

 

 

Liam Langan age 22, Tokyo, Japan

 

Coronavirus to me was just one of those engrossing stories I would take home after having a long day at school. My biology teacher told my classmates and me about it first, but I thought it wasn’t much of a big deal, well, —coming from my teacher who’s a well-known germaphobe in school.

Growing up I’d hear of epidemics affecting different countries all over the world but for some reason, they never affected my country.

Retracing my steps to when it all started,—schools where set to open on the 15th of January and knowing that I was just a year closer to completing my secondary education made me feel like I was immortal. I felt this way because completing high school meant the world to me, coming from a family that could barely afford my tuition fees all the other previous years.

Fast forward to two months after schools opened, the coronavirus ultimately hit my country. Cases were rising like the water levels on the mighty Mosi-oa-Tunya Falls, whenever we experienced a year of heavy rainfall.

I was saddened by the unfortunate news, my dreams of graduating, becoming a doctor or even flying out of my country slowly drifted away, as my school headmistress made a speech in the assembly stating “all schools shall be closed until further notice.”

Friday 20th March was the last day I attended school and I couldn’t give my best friend a hug when saying goodbye, because of the new beast in town called Social Distancing. The virus came out of nowhere like an evil surprise and took away the little hope I had left in me. I would sit in my room all day reminiscing about old times and switching to the land of make belief.

Hours turned to days and days to months, that made me realise time was luck, I had to adjust to the new normal and fight for what mattered to me. Going to the market and seeing how hopeful the women selling on the streets were, and how they adhered to WHO guidelines, made me feel greater than what I suffered. I will write my way through all of my problems and hold on to hope.

Like Racheal Platten’s song,
I still got a lot of fight left in me.

 

 

 

One gloomy day in March we were told that we are staying home for a week due to a virus spreading in our country. Without even realizing, that week turned into a month and those months multiplied. As of now, there is life before Covid and life whilst Covid. I cannot really grasp the concept of normality anymore and, as I am sitting inside my room, there are so many things that I am grasping instead. I am slowly awakening to reality, starting to realize how this world actually works, how justice is not really justice, how life actually works and who I am becoming.

Having so much time with yourself you start to reflect on what you want and what you are, instead of what you have to do. Routine was a personal hell and then it was suddenly gone. At some point, living so much with myself, so quietly, so slowly, became painful. Days were becoming a blur and were blending together like when you mix colors on a palette and the resulted shade is not exactly what you were going for. I was missing the few friends I had so much that I wrote them paragraphs about how much I appreciate them, and I was missing what was before, even though I knew I hated how things used to be. I was becoming nostalgic about three months ago; I was baking breads with my mom and I started getting into manifestation and the law of attraction.

Living in Romania, celebrating Easter comes with a few traditions. We would usually gather around churches with lamps in our hands, waiting for someone to ‘’give us some light’’ as we liked to call the process. A pope would light his own candle and then the same flickering light would get sent from one person to the other. You would meet people from your neighborhood that you haven’t spoken to in a minute and just connect with them. I am certainly not that religious myself, but I always found this tradition heartwarming. Unfortunately, this Easter was different. One of my friends who is way more religious than I am ran from home at night, almost caught by the cops so that she could light her own candle. ‘’It almost felt like being in a movie trying not to get caught running away after curfew’’ she said.

I read a few books, worked out for a week, questioned my identity hundreds of times per day, I tried to learn how to play something on my piano, wrote some poems, dyed my hair pink and started being called ‘’Strawberry Shortcake,” signed petitions and stayed up to date with global issues, realized how this year all these issues are finally coming to light, dreaded how messed up everything is and then started being hopeful for the future.

I learned that change comes from within and starts with me, I learnt that it is okay to feel things but that I am not my thoughts. I cried at my online graduation and promised our teachers we will see them again. Our physics teacher told us that ‘’he loves us and is waiting for us to change the world’’ and this will probably stay within my heart forever. I then got into university and I am surprisingly filled with excitement for what is to come.

Restrictions are slowly being lifted and there obviously still are divided opinions about the existence of the virus. People even protested having to get a vaccine that does not even exist yet. We don’t know how the next school year will look like and over 200,000 children do not even have access to Internet here. Our country is flawed, in debt to the whole world, ruled by Christianity and corruption, but it’s ours. I believe every country has its flaws, especially while managing a global pandemic. I just wish we all got along with each other and tried to see beyond our differences because what even is normality anymore?

While this experience is a setback to all of us, I think it brought growth to every single person individually. I personally am finally starting to see a light shining at the end of the tunnel, but I know for sure I am not even close to the end of that tunnel yet. I started loving myself a little bit more and I feel like if this wouldn’t have happened, I would be much more farther from this growth.

Fourth week of quarantine.
In the fourth minute of the fourth episode of the fourth season of Breaking
Bad, the alarm clock next to the bed reads 3:02 am.
302 is the area code for the state of Delaware, founded in 1787.
1787’s digit sum is 23.

23 is the number of human chromosomes—discovered by Joe Hin Tjio on
December 22, 1955.
In 1955, the President was Dwight D. Eisenhower, who has the same first
name as the irascible Dwight K. Schrute from The Office.
The Office ran 201 episodes, which is divisible by the sum of its digits (3)
making it the 60th Harshad number.
60 is the number of vertices in a truncated icosahedron.

A truncated icosahedron is the shape of a C60 molecule.
The C60 molecule has a mass of 720amu.
720 is 6x5x4x3x2x1
The sum of 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, and 1 is 21 which is the atomic number of
scandium.

Scandium is in the fourth period of the periodic table, so it has four principal
energy levels.
Four hours turns into
four weeks and soon
four months