Day 1 – Friday, 27 March
I wake up with birdsong and almost no traffic sounds from the main road across the residential complex where we live. The smartphone home screen shows 7 am. By now, my husband would have already had his morning coffee and left for work. Instead, we share the coffee ritual in bed, huddled under the warm duvet. Nothing else has changed. As always, he’s the one brewing coffee in the mornings.
My husband’s office is a short car ride five kilometres away, but it doesn’t matter. We are now in full national lockdown. Only the businesses that provide essential services – groceries, pharmacies, hospitals, banks, government offices and petrol stations remain open nationwide during the next twenty-one days. His job in the robotics industry, although relevant in the context of the next industrial revolution, is not a basic necessity.
So here we are, working in the confines of our humble duplex home. His is a makeshift office that used to be our dining table. Mine is my usual guest bedroom turned into a study with a freestanding yet quaint desk that can only accommodate a laptop, some stationary and a succulent potted plant which, by some miracle, still clings to life. It has been my office since the beginning of the year when I switched back to freelance writing to allow myself more time to pursue personal interests.
It’s going to be a beautiful sunny day; I can tell by the few wispy white clouds rolling across the blue sky. I miss my daily morning jog on the neighbourhood loop street, but we are not allowed to go out for walks or runs during the lockdown. Movement is restricted to only the necessary but limited trips to the grocery stores and emergencies. I sit in bed for a while, reading a book and enjoying the suburb’s silence. It’s the best I can do before the working day unfolds.
Showered and dressed in work clothes – only the beach flip-flops give him away – my other half goes downstairs to his makeshift office. I quickly fix some yoghurt and muesli for breakfast. At the same time, he finally finds the time to organise his emails without the odd colleague popping by his desk and other interruptions that come with the territory of managing a team.
The best thing about working from home is that we don’t have to deal with distractions – just the occasional glance on smartphones and the dogs barking in the garden, seemingly bored and aware that we are now both at home. Fortunately, they’re easy to bribe with canned food and dog biscuits. We welcome them indoors, much to their delight.
After breakfast, I sit down with more hot coffee in the upstairs study, working well until noon. I manage to finally finish writing a children’s storybook that I’ve been postponing for a while now, distracted by promising client work, and update my social profiles and clients’ social media pages.
From downstairs, the sound of conversation carries on, my husband busy with phone calls. Meanwhile, my own phone buzzes from the bedroom. The first day of national lockdown triggers funny memes and videos, goodwill prayers, and the latest opinions on the coronavirus/covid19 pandemic that forced everyone in their homes. Whatsapp groups and Facebook friends are busier than usual. Photos shared online show a ghost town-like Pretoria, Johannesburg and surroundings, but there are, of course, exceptions to the rule and angry complaints.
Not everyone is sitting at home. Lockdown, as I see it, is not the complete shutdown of the economy. Some workers who didn’t have time to shop the other day because of the annoying long queues are finally stocking up on basic products. Essential services workers still travel to their jobs to ensure the rest of us get water and food to survive through this ordeal. Doctors and nurses are on the frontline of this pandemic, making sure the population gets a chance to recover and move on with their lives. I take my hat off to all of them while my husband and I sit safely at home, avoiding crowds and sick people. That said, I don’t dwell on the media negativity and silently wish everyone good health, prosperity and strength to carry on with their important work.
It’s lovely to have my hubby home for lunch. I used to skip proper meals altogether when I was working full-time, often eating hastily over the keyboard, too engrossed in my writing schedule. Being at home, I make now time to sit down for breakfast and lunch. For the next three weeks, lunch means both of us. Today I cook a dish of creamy fusilli pasta, and we enjoy the food and rooibos tea together before resuming work.
Back upstairs at my desk, I continue writing my fiction manuscript, which has reached halfway, topping more than 40K words. It’s getting increasingly difficult to handle, yet I can feel the excitement. I have faith that it will see the light of day on print, Amazon, or both. For all its seeming disadvantages, lockdown is a blessing to writers. There has never been a better time to stay organised indoors and write, write, write. There’s simply no other alternative. The introvert inside me rejoices.
As evening closes in, we decide on having a traditional braai (barbeque) for dinner, thankful for the excellent weather and the food stock-up ahead of lockdown that will last over a few more outdoor grills before we have to shop again.
Luckily, we don’t have to change our Friday night habits too much. We’d usually dine at a restaurant, braai or order Chinese takeaway followed by a movie or series on Netflix. With both restaurants and takeaway outlets closed during the lockdown, our option is clear.
Tonight, after our delicious meal, we watch Friends (the end of the third season), cuddled on the couch with the cat and the dogs lazying at our feet. We call it off early and go to bed, a full day awaiting us tomorrow.