OYSTERHOOD is reclusiveness or solitude, or an overwhelming desire to stay at home.

— @HaggardHawks

The day started with a ruse, all calm and solitude. After taking out the bin, Glinka and I had coffee on the stoep and listened to the human and car traffic outside our property, and I understood that I will have to wait for rain to enjoy a safe morning walk-outing again.

Today is Star Wars Day. A few years ago, I got this amazing BB8 artwork as a gift from my super-talented friend Roland.

And, quite fittingly, me beeps, I had to go on a ‘galactic’ mission today. An essential worker needed assistance in performing an essential level four task and needed a driver; I was asked to assist. All my documents were filled in and signed and I was able to travel all across Cape Town and back with my permits. It was marvellous. I never got out of the car, and I had no desire to, but just the drive itself was beautiful. Nearly empty streets, glorious weather, and the people I saw on the way were mostly wearing masks. I waved to the Mountain from the other side and saw the harbour and the sea from the distance… The road signs on the N2 were flashing: NO NON-ESSENTIAL DRIVING. But I was doing essential driving and was happy to be of help. I wore my mask and washed my hands and did not endanger anyone. But for a few minutes I stood outside a shop that was open for business and in that short period only I observed people fiddling with their masks all the time, pulling them down to talk to others and to answer their phone, not keeping much distance between themselves and others. Watching, I just shrivelled inside and knew that we have a long, tough journey ahead of us. And it is only going to get harder.

I returned home with an even firmer resolution that to keep sane among this madness, I will follow the safety rules and regulations that are meant to keep us from spreading Covid-19, even if my tiny contribution is perhaps a drop in the ocean of other careless actions.

The rest of the day was spent in front of the computer, working. Because printers are back at work under level four regulations, we can send one manuscript into the final stages of production. I still don’t know anything about the logistics of what will follow, but at least we will have a new Karavan Press title sometime in the near future. I could send another manuscript that needs to be read for a reader’s report to the printer in my neighbourhood – as I usually do (I try to read everything on paper that I can) – as they have instituted very good safety measures for collections and I will be able to get the printed and bound copy without fearing for anyone’s health. An author phoned for some advice and we had a good chat. Emails had to be written. Notes had to be prepared for an electronic meeting of a board I am a member of. And before I knew it, the evening had arrived and my cousin phoned on Skype to catch up. I had two-minute noodles for dinner because I was not interested in food. And then, just because I was unusually quiet on Twitter throughout the busy afternoon, a dear friend sent a text message to my phone (which I didn’t hear) and when I did not reply for a while, she phoned to inquire whether I was okay. I really, truly love my Friends. Thank you! Beep. Boop. Happiness.

I am exhausted tonight. In the words – or rather images – of Damien Kempf, the medieval manuscripts explorer:

Be kind to yourself. Be kind to others. Stay at home.

“Physical distancing remains one of the key strategies to curb this pandemic.”

— NICD

OYSTERHOOD is reclusiveness or solitude, or an overwhelming desire to stay at home.

— @HaggardHawks

Rain. The Rondebosch Common was mine this morning – the nearest people passing about fifty meters away, if not more. Only a few dedicated runners and cyclists. And the humans I saw in the distance on the Common were nearly all walking their dogs. I though, “Good for you, you really care for these animals, sunshine or rain.”

Walking in these empty spaces, I remembered a thought I had when climbing the pyramids in the Yucatan jungle: perhaps they were build because they allowed people to experience vast spaces above the dense treetops; it was the only way to see beyond a few meters of forest. Being on top of a pyramid, I felt a freedom impossible to experience among the flora below. Remembering that sensation, it was great to walk carelessly in an empty space this morning, rain and all. I also recalled one of my grandfather’s sayings: “Karina, you are sweet, but not made out of sugar; you will not melt in the rain.”

Nearly all alone in the middle of the Common, I encountered this area and sign and wanted a sign like this for myself: “Karina Rehab In Progress” – please do not disturb. It was soul-restoring.

After the liberating walk, I got back into bed with coffee and breakfast. Today, a real treat: honey bacon from Richard Bosman, fried egg sprinkled with my own coriander from the garden. Food heaven.

In bed, I read Getaway magazine (April issue features a place I have been dreaming of for months now…) and The Mermaid’s Call and many enlightening articles online. I also had a wonderful phone conversation with my HAIR anthology co-editor and dear friend, Joanne Hichens. We are hoping to work on another anthology together, and it was just freeing to dream and to talk books and the future.

And just when I thought that my breakfast would be the culinary highlight of my day, my lovely neighbours offered to share their Sunday lunch with me. It arrived over our wall, packaged in containers, hot and ready to enjoy. I sat alone at the table on my stoep, but with every mouthful I felt that I was part of a family Sunday lunch and it was impossible to feel lonely. I just adore my neighbours. They are the real deal: good people.

And they can cook! Ooooh, it was delicious. And the food care package included these divine biscuits that I dipped into coffee for dessert.

After lunch, inspired by my love who reported that he was in his domestic goddess mode in his own home this Sunday (the man cooks, cleans, washes up etc. without any prompting), I decided to tackle the “chaos room” in my house. For many, many months, I have been dumping just about anything that I couldn’t immediately deal with into one room at the back of the house. And eventually, I began to dread going in there. But for days now, I have been thinking that I need to clean it up and use it again like all the other spaces in the house and not as a garbage heap and storage room all rolled into one. It took a few hours, and maybe it wasn’t the best idea for my fragile back, but the room is an ordinary room again (and my garbage bin is full for tomorrow’s collection).

Throughout the day, however, Salieri decided that she will stick to her lazy Sunday routines… She just moved between the different beds, because she likes being close to me even when I am working around the house…

We had a Skype dinner date with our Domestic Goddess, Salieri on my lap and one of my partner’s Furry Ones on his. Love in the era of Covid-19.

The numbers are rising as we knew they would: 447 new confirmed infections (most of them in the Western Cape), eight new deaths. More level four businesses will open tomorrow. In my secular way, I pray that they will follow the safety regulations and consider the health of their employees and clients ahead of anything else. I also pray that all of us will support these efforts in responsible and caring ways.

Walking today, I was always far away from people, but every time I glimpsed a mask on someone’s face, I thought: thank you for caring for me, dear stranger.

Be kind to yourself. Be kind to others. Stay at home (unless you are a level four essential worker or can be safely outdoors for leisure between 6 and 9am).

“Physical distancing remains one of the key strategies to curb this pandemic.”

— NICD

OYSTERHOOD is reclusiveness or solitude, or an overwhelming desire to stay at home.

— @HaggardHawks

I hardly got out of bed today. I never got out of my PJs. After chatting to my friend Michela in Vienna for three hours until 1am on Skype last night, I actually fell asleep in the late morning and in the late afternoon again (for quite a while) – highly unusual for me to sleep during the day, I often feel groggy and grumpy afterwards, and I did feel both after the long afternoon nap, but a dinner Skype chat with my love cheered me up. I did brush my teeth and hair sometime during the day, though, and read, and wrote a long email to an author who needed advice, and made pizza (simple and nice).

Throughout this shockingly lethargic day, the Furry Ones kept me company at all times.

A man rang my doorbell in the early afternoon, but because I’d spoken to him a few days ago when he was begging for food and, as instructed by the social worker in our area, I’d already informed him of the feeding scheme she runs for people in need, I did not engage further. On the intercom I watched him pee in my driveway.

Thankfully, it’s raining tonight.

While still in bed this morning, I heard one of the neighbours shouting to someone going out: “Sanatise, sanatise, sanatise! Especially when coming out of the shop.”

Be kind to yourself. Be kind to others. Stay at home.

“Physical distancing remains one of the key strategies to curb this pandemic.”

— NICD

OYSTERHOOD is reclusiveness or solitude, or an overwhelming desire to stay at home.

— @HaggardHawks

Fog. It was almost as if this side of the Mountain was saying, “There’s nothing to see here, go back home. Stay safe.”

I should have known that Rondebosch Common would not be a good idea. The few steps I attempted felt like walking an obstacle course. I started counting people in the street the moment I left home, but I soon lost count.

I have always found Cape Town a very walkable city. So I know my neighbourhood well. In the olden days, I had even walked from my home to faraway places like the Book Lounge for a launch, or to the Avis office in town to pick up a rental, or to Cavendish to shop, or the Vineyard Hotel to meet a friend for a drink in the afternoon. I love walking, and it was relatively easy this morning after the initial stumble to find more secluded streets to enjoy at least part of my excursion without having to deal with the masses out there. I was grateful for every single g’morning, side-step, mask, smiling pair of eyes. And I was delighted for the happy doggies. But. But…

Seeing all these people carelessly interact with one another (often without masks and/or distance) as if there was no tomorrow, I felt that I want it – the tomorrow. I want my tomorrow. And the day after. And the many years that will hopefully follow. I will be selfish this way. I love my life; I want to have the opportunity to live it for a long time to come. And I repeat after Pakora: “We really love you, mate. Maybe you should reconsider. This looks really dangerous.”

There is so much we do not know about Covid-19 yet, but we know that there is one sure way of not spreading or getting it, possibly becoming really ill, ending up in ICU (sans vibrators), and never returning home. So forgive me, but I am staying in my egg tray for as much as I possibly can.

I saw this quote by Naguib Mahfouz today: “Home is not where you were born. Home is where all your attempts to escape cease.” I have no need to escape.

The last time someone carelessly endangered my life and my health suffered irreparably, I promised myself that I would never knowingly put myself in a position where this could happen again. And I refuse to do to others what was done to me.

I also don’t want to face the death of a loved one once more if there is something, anything!, I can do about it. I just can’t do this again. Not if I can help it!

The layers of loss, grief, trauma, illness, violation are too deeply embedded under my skin to allow me to take the pandemic lightly. I understand the frustration of others who have had different experiences and have to confront different realities, but I also know what it means to be at the end of careless and willful disregard of personal agreements and, on a much larger scale, social contracts. Someone gets hurt. I don’t want it to be me again.

This time, I’d rather err on the side of caution and take the responsibilities I have towards myself and others seriously. My trust has been broken too often.

165 new infections in the Western Cape alone over the past 24h. I don’t want to be part of this particular statistic. Thank you, but no thank you. No official NICD figures for the entire country yet tonight.

There were many things that I have missed in the last five weeks, but even during level five a lot was possible via delivery that gave me joy and made this strange new reality more bearable. Like my favourite coffee. I understand my privilege, and it allows me to stay in the egg tray as much as possible and by this simple act I might be saving a life.

No takeaway coffee can match this – sorry – even if I have to make it myself.

Because of safe and excellent delivery services, a lot can be enjoyed in the comfort of one’s home in level four. And if one is already privileged enough to be able to make use of such possibilities, then why not simply do it? I want to concentrate on what is responsibly possible, support other businesses and institutions that are not open to the public in whatever way I can, and wait – patiently.

The last time I was at a restaurant, my love invited me for a romantic dinner at FYN. It was mid-March and we had an incredibly memorable feast.

When I heard that restaurants would open for home deliveries in level four, I thought immediately of FYN because of that unforgettable meal, and of my favourite restaurant close to home, HARU. I couldn’t get hold of HARU, nor find out whether they have survived the lockdown, but I will continue trying to find out on Monday. For tonight, I managed to order from FYN… Another professional, safe and punctual delivery. With the super easy instructions provided, within twenty minutes I had a FYN FROM HOME feast that tasted like heaven.

I can happily return to pasta and baked beans for a while again now :)

Be kind to yourself. Be kind to others. Stay at home. Keep calm and wear a mask.

“Physical distancing remains one of the key strategies to curb this pandemic.”

— NICD