MEMORY (upper and lower case)

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.