As I hear from friends and family in the U.S. regarding their
experiences hunkering down into government mandated and/or self-isolated
protection from the Coronavirus pandemic - working from home, limiting their
excursions to markets and other locations in search of basic necessities,
avoiding contact with other than immediate family and household - I cannot help
but reflect on the situation in Nicaragua (where I live now) and dozens of
other countries where I have worked as an International Development Specialist.
These countries are normally classified as "underdeveloped" or
"emergent" (adjectives that tend to focus primarily on economics). In
the context of these nations, where a significant portion of the populace survive
on a day-to-day basis through their participation in informal business and
markets, “social distancing” is a whole other ballgame. In Nicaragua alone, an
estimated 2.4 million women and men (@1.7 million living below the poverty
line) leave their homes in the early hours of the morning, spreading out
through the countryside and cities on foot or crammed into inexpensive but
over-crowded public transportation. For
them, there is no alternative: you work today or you don´t eat tomorrow. They
interact with each other and the rest of the populace in local and regional
markets and other commercial centers, at temporary construction sites, going door-to-door
and on the street. There is an awareness
here of the seriousness of the pandemic.
Some steps have been taken to limit the potential for germ transmission. Some businesses have started providing
alcohol wipes and hand sanitizer to clients.
A major supermarket chain, a regional subsidiary of Walmart, placed Plexiglas
barriers between cashiers and customers. More and more people are wearing masks
and gloves when they are outside of their homes. But it is not enough. For every person taking precautions, there
are dozens who, either from ignorance or simply lacking the economic resources
to dedicate even a minimum of their income to the purchase of a mask, gloves or
additional hand cleanser, remain vulnerable as carriers or transmitters of the
virus. Nicaragua is still in a somewhat privileged position with a low number
of cases. The Nicaraguan government is
reporting only three confirmed infections as of this writing (plus one death
from complications of the virus) and are quick to classify these cases as “imported”,
touting no “local community-based transmission”. Government officials have
stepped up information campaigns regarding handwashing and ways to reduce contact
but, amidst growing criticism, have been reluctant to promote additional, more
drastic measures geared to limiting large gatherings of people that are being
taken by other governments around the world - such as the closure of school and
non-essential business. Plans for Easter Week celebrations – in Nicaragua traditionally
the period of greatest concentration of people as hundreds of thousands head to
the beaches and other vacation spots – continue without modification. The rational for this lack of additional
precaution or reduction of activities appears to be primarily economic. And of
course, Easter Week is always a boon for those millions of people living below
the poverty line with its potential to add a few extra cents to their meager
income. But, as it begs the question, at
what cost? When the coronavirus infection
rate begins its upward spiral – and right now it seems inevitable that –
barring some sort of divine intervention (there are sufficient believers in the
country) or the prompt development a miraculous vaccine that can and will be
distributed to all who need it (there are believers in that as well) - Nicaragua
and hundreds of other “developing” countries around the world are going to be
caught up and swallowed by this voracious pandemic in the months to come. Or maybe I’m just feeling pessimistic today.
Marbles are for... Somewhere between unsuccessfully trying to suppress a few sobs at the poignancy of flawed humanity and experiencing a deeply satisfying grin as Bill Murray over-sings Bob Dylan’s “Shelter from the Storm” during the credits of my second watching of the movie “St, Vincent” on Netflix, I was hit with a memory from long ago Junior High School as Murray’s Vince, recovering from a stroke, was made to pick up marbles with his toes and deposit them into a nearby bowl. A strange thing to associate, is it not? But that is what well-done fiction is all about: connecting us with both universal and very personal things. Along about 1964, shortly after the assassination of JFK and still under the influence of his school- based physical education initiative, our local school officials had every student evaluated in terms of stature and other physical qualities. I remember standing sideways in front of a graphed board set up in what doubled as the Junior High gym...
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