KITCHEN PANCEMIC
Lagos Nigeria, 2020.
This account attempts to mirror women’s roles in the society and how we have to shelve our own needs, (even during a pandemic) some pressing and urgent in order to cater for our loved ones.
In January, when we heard about the Virus, while switching channels on DSTV. CNN’s headline was hard to miss. That much death toll?. we shook our head in pity, for the needless souls lost due to the Chinese government’s autocratic management of information flow. We said a prayer for the souls of the departed.
In February, we heard that an Italian, a par with his other country men dedicated in spreading the gospel of Covid-19 worldwide, had snuck into the country after he had been infected with the virus thereby subsequently infecting almost all his co workers in the neighbouring Ogun state. I didn’t let the news derail me from attending my friend’s parents’ burial though.
My governor woke up from a year long slumber and swung into action.
In March, I visited my Uncle who had just returned from The United Kingdom, gist and chocolates flowed freely. I took some books as souvenir back to my house.
Then the sneezing started that same weekend. My husband said, “No hating, but was it really responsible to go see your Uncle right now? We have kids, for God’s sake, kids!”
I had no reply, I prepared the guest room for Isolation before leaving for my office the Monday after. Everyone stepped out of the office when I asked that the Air Condition be put off since I had cold. I’m asthmatic so my request wasn’t unusual to them, so I was pleasantly surprised in a sour sweet manner by their attitude. On one hand I was worried if this my disclosure of Covid scare may end up with me being stigmatized. On the other I was impressed about their level of awareness and sensitivity to the Pandemic. The nurses gave me some drugs for the cold and allayed my fears despite not having the equipment for a test, but asked me to send my name and other details as well as that of my Uncle to the Nigeria centre for disease control (NCDC).
Before the close of work however, the Medical Director told me to please go home because I had been cleared for a sick leave of two weeks. Really? I didn’t seek for one.then it dawned on me : That’s Isolation!
In April, I organized a virtual birthday party for myself since I could not celebrate physically. I had no idea that putting my silly dance steps on display for people would be such fun. The only problem was that I had bought enough alcohol to sustain at least twenty people for a week. I told myself repeatedly that AA centres are scarce in my area so it will be nice to quickly do charity outreach to neighbors with the remaining bottles.
The real Pandemic started in May when the Kids’ Nanny had to Leave my City. I had been treating Demartitis developed from allergies common to asthmatic patients for years, but by the time I had rashes all over my fingers and toe nails, I knew it was a bigger threat. I had a dilemma, go to the hospital to get the correct prescription for my nails or stay at home and use google to treat myself since I’m somewhat high risk and there had been a number of Covid cases confirmed at my hospital? I went to the hospital when the rashes became sores and began to break out. FUNGI INFECTION!!! my heart crashed as I sat opposite the dermatologist. ‘Fungi are multicelled, plant like organism. A fungus gets nutrition from plants, food and animals in damp warm environments. Damp Warm Enviroments, Damp Warm Environments! My mind kept repeating it like a mantra. That was like a death sentence, because at that point, my life practically started and ended in the kitchen everyday. I never (in 7 years of marriage) could have guessed that my spouse could finish two full course meals in one seating. It seemed as if forces were conspiring to ensure my hands were always in water. My toddler thought himself to be a walking dumpster so therefore he picked every thrash off the floor to consume, causing me to wash and wipe his hands every other minute. Halfway through the month the storeroom was empty. Everyone was eating like they had been informed that copious amounts of food kept the virus at bay.
By June I dreaded entering the kitchen so much so that I had semi panic attacks when I thought about cooking. In my head, the virus lived there. The food often got burnt and the dishes became my enemy, slipping and breaking and creating an incapable facade of me.
In July I bought gloves to mask my hands in, hung a TV screen that the Soap, Girlfriends repeatedly played on it so as distract myself from following daily Covid-19 updates, stock up the fridge with whisky to boost my immune system, and painted the kitchen in bright colors to sanitize my thoughts.
And that was why October found me on the streets when the protests began. It was a statement about socially distancing myself from the kitchen and my troops. I chanted #EndSARS like missionaries does about the good gospel, and when the bullets came I was not afraid, I’d rather die a hero than die a victim of a pandemic, of the kitchen.
#EndSARS #Covid-19 #WomenInAPandemic #Infections #MentalHealth
