Let’s Talk

The best thing to have come from the absolute horror that is the coronavirus is through all the fear, panic and overwhelming sadness that is sweeping through the rivers, mountains, oceans and pores of humanity, it has somehow brought all of us together.

Corona has done what very few things, people and events on this planet could ever achieve: it has bound us together as humans. Not races, not countries, not enemies, not classes, not sexes… not even exes. It’s tragically beautiful to see how, now that we were not taken out by bloodthirsty aliens or nuclear warfare (as predicted by every Hollywood movie ever made), we finally remember the essence of what makes us truly human, love.

Last week was pandemonium in my house.

I awoke on the Monday morning of last week with all the symptoms of a full-blown flu. Fever, headaches, body aches, sniffles and coughs. Now had this been March of 2019, the world (and I!) would have shrugged it off casually and life would have carried on footloose and fancy free. March of any year, is flu season after all. You’re expected to catch a wind as the seasons change, and no one would have lifted an eyebrow. But it’s not 2019, it’s 2020… and last week was the one week where it was ridiculously scary to have a flu.

There was panic. Lots and lots of panic. There was medication by the truck loads. There was constant fever checking. There was hand washing and disinfecting ad nauseam. But more than that, there was silence. And fear.

I didn’t speak much. I couldn’t. I was consumed by my own inner panic and worry. And the Trolls didn’t speak much either. They checked up on me as I lay in bed buried under an avalanche of warm things, time and time again… and said nothing. They couldn’t.

Because they were consumed by their own fear too.

Because… what if?

What if this was it? What if I didn’t get better? What if nothing would ever be OK again?

By day three of the flu I woke up much better, could finally get to a GP, get tested and assure them that their mom was A-Okay, and that she wasn’t going anywhere.

I had a lot of conversations to get out of the way after I got better.

A lot of explaining what this virus actually is, how it really gets transmitted, what the real symptoms are, and the absolute importance of vigilant preventative measures.

I couldn’t let the television or the internet do the talking for me.

Because visual content these days is scary.

Scary and often inaccurate.

But more than that, as a parent, it was my obligation to explain to them how important love is in a time of death. How powerful light is in a time of darkness. How transformative it can be to remain calm in a time of panic. Especially worldwide panic.

It was the most talking I have done with my teenage sons in recent times and I thank corona for that.

As the world continues to face loss of life, loss of jobs, loss of stability and loss of identity this week, my house and its inhabitants thankfully remain healthy.

Sending you and yours, love and light.

In an age of information overload, Sunrise is The Namibian’s morning briefing, delivered at 6h00 from Monday to Friday. It offers a curated rundown of the most important stories from the past 24 hours – occasionally with a light, witty touch. It’s an essential way to stay informed. Subscribe and join our newsletter community.