Nobody
who lives in a country that is experiencing coronavirus is in any doubt about
the breadth of the impact of the virus on the daily life
Lockdown,
social distancing, self-isolation: they are all terms we have become very used
to.
But
what is it like to experience the virus in a country that has no national
health service, and that doesn’t have the financial ability to be able to
provide support for people when they lose their jobs? What is it like for a nation
where most people live a subsistence lifestyle, surviving on a day-to-day existence,
getting work where they can and when they can?
That
is the reality for most of the countries where the CRED Partners are based.
Malawi, Zambia, Ethiopia, Uganda, Kenya, Tanzania, Rwanda, India – for all
these countries, the infrastructure to provide ‘free at the point of delivery’ support
in a crisis just isn’t there, and it is the poorest who are most vulnerable.
As
the governments issue announcements about restrictions being imposed to try and
halt the spread of the virus, so the people at the bottom of the pecking order
are the ones hit hardest.
School
closures mean that children don’t get a meal to eat, and parents lose out on
the all the money that they scrimped and saved for school fees.
A
ban on mass gatherings means that the markets close, and so all the opportunities
to sell goods, to gain some money from portering and other informal types of
labour disappear in a flash, with no chance of any financial help from anywhere
to bridge the gap in income.
Churches
closing mean that the one place of sanctuary that many of them cling to in the
week is cruelly taken, leaving a sense of bewilderment and fear.
A
ban on public transport means that those who earn money driving bicycle taxis,
or matatus, or tuk-tuks etc, all lose their source of income. But it also means
that for the majority of the population, who don’t own their own vehicle, they
lose the ability to get around, whether it is to the shops, or to the medical
clinic, or even to escape the city back to their village where they might have
more chance of surviving.
When
it comes to following advice on hand-washing – well, its not easy when getting
water involves walking a mile or so and then carrying a jerrycan of the precious
liquid back balanced carefully on the head. Or having to pay from one’s meagre
income for the privilege of being able to turn on a tap to fill a container. When
access to water is that hard to come by, there are a lot more things to
consider regarding what that water will be used for than just spending 20
seconds washing hands on a regular basis
As
for social-distancing and self-isolating: not easy when you live in a community
of over 1million people within 1 square mile. Or when you share a 3m square ‘home’
with 8 other people.
The
impacts are huge, and our partners are some of those at the front line of
trying to support those who need it most.
I
was in Uganda for a few days as the coronavirus started to take hold, and the
speed at which despair set in was alarming to see. Food prices rose dramatically,
people scrabbled to get out of the cities, everyone started to become suspicious
of each other and nerves ran high. And it’s the same in other countries that
have so few resources and so little capacity to adapt.
I’m
not for one minute wanting to undermine the impact of coronavirus on us in the
UK. I know we are all feeling the effects in many ways, and will continue to
feel them for weeks, months and possibly years to come in different ways.
But do
spare a thought for our partners around the world, and for the role they have within
their communities, as leaders, service providers, and a place of refuge and support
for the poorest members. This is certainly not an easy time for them, and they
need all the prayers and support that we can give.
