COVID-19 quarantine diary: Capacity to give
(I’ve been meaning to write something about COVID-19 while I’m in self-quarantine. I begin my drafts but always feel the need to stop by the second paragraph. Vicarious experiences and secondhand information could hurt so much, but I’d rather remember the details than later rely on embellished history or my faulty memory.)
I am writing this with tears in my eyes. These days, amid the coronavirus disease (COVID-19) threat, the most reassuring words I can utter are “It’ll be over soon” and “Everything will be fine”, hoping that they somehow alleviate the pain and suffering we all feel.
Everyone is affected by this pandemic in one way or another. Since the lockdown, or the so-called enhanced community quarantine here in the Philippines, some families have been separated. I know of friends who wanted to but hadn’t been able to go home to their provinces either due to the hastened implementation of the protocol or because they were showing symptoms and could not afford to risk their loved ones’ health.
The most basic comforts, such as food and movement, are also now limited. Most restaurants and manufacturers have temporarily closed and halted their operations, and travel is discouraged.
Some events, meticulously planned for months, had to be postponed. My friend from Los Angeles was supposed to attend a couple’s wedding over one weekend, but ceremonies had to be cancelled just two days before their scheduled nuptials, as the venue announced closure due to the COVID-19 pandemic.
Low-income households are now, more than ever, struggling with their daily expenses, as the lockdown also shut down their means of livelihood. Just yesterday, two people I’ve worked with in different documentary projects — a mother whose child has cerebral palsy, and a driver from Marawi City — asked for help as they could no longer afford to provide for their needs.
And I couldn't help them. I wish I have more to give, but just last week, I had already donated a third of my salary so hospitals can buy personal protective equipment (PPEs) that our healthcare workers need.
^ Daje Pinpiño from Angono, Rizal pays tribute to all frontliners amid the pandemic
with this reimagination of Carlos “Botong” Francisco’s iconic painting.
This is war.
In the frontlines are our medical professionals who tirelessly fight an invisible enemy. Their battle scars are the scratches from overworn face masks and goggles; their mental anguish comes from seeing death in the face every day. No less than soldiers, they spend their days away from their families, risking their lives so the rest of us may live.
At this time of crisis though, it’s difficult to fathom how some people still choose to prioritize politics over compassion.
It’s infuriating to see how, amid all the resources at the Philippine government’s employ, what with the emergency powers recently accorded to the President, red tape bureaucracy still meddles with the urgency of the situation and we have better chances of getting a response from the private sector.
I first had this thought after the siege of Marawi in 2017, when, despite government funds, rehabilitation and relief remained wanting. Then, again, in the many months that followed whenever the country suffers from natural disasters: earthquakes, typhoons, and landslides.
I long for the day when my words would only portray a past from which we’ve finally recovered.
But for now, the best and worst of humanity can’t be any clearer.
On one end, we have privileged leaders, who care only about their politics and economics in the name of self-preservation. On the other end, there are those doing what they can — even the littlest they can spare, whether it be a few bucks’ worth of donations, time to volunteer and serve, or sharing some social media space for helpful articles online — to shed some light to others in these dark days.
Regardless of our capacity to give, we can all be heroes — though it’s always a matter of choice.
I hope I can say that everything will be over soon or that we’ll be alright in the end with more assertion — but the hard truth is we’re not sure. We can’t be sure. We don’t know how many among us will live to see the day when everything’s over, and the number of those who may not even survive to witness those finer days is still up in the air, dependent on an abstract curve we use to be informed of our decisions and on what we actually do.
The thought breaks my heart. Until we see brighter days, please, let’s do our part. •
I am writing this with tears in my eyes. These days, amid the coronavirus disease (COVID-19) threat, the most reassuring words I can utter are “It’ll be over soon” and “Everything will be fine”, hoping that they somehow alleviate the pain and suffering we all feel.
Everyone is affected by this pandemic in one way or another. Since the lockdown, or the so-called enhanced community quarantine here in the Philippines, some families have been separated. I know of friends who wanted to but hadn’t been able to go home to their provinces either due to the hastened implementation of the protocol or because they were showing symptoms and could not afford to risk their loved ones’ health.
The most basic comforts, such as food and movement, are also now limited. Most restaurants and manufacturers have temporarily closed and halted their operations, and travel is discouraged.
Some events, meticulously planned for months, had to be postponed. My friend from Los Angeles was supposed to attend a couple’s wedding over one weekend, but ceremonies had to be cancelled just two days before their scheduled nuptials, as the venue announced closure due to the COVID-19 pandemic.
Low-income households are now, more than ever, struggling with their daily expenses, as the lockdown also shut down their means of livelihood. Just yesterday, two people I’ve worked with in different documentary projects — a mother whose child has cerebral palsy, and a driver from Marawi City — asked for help as they could no longer afford to provide for their needs.
And I couldn't help them. I wish I have more to give, but just last week, I had already donated a third of my salary so hospitals can buy personal protective equipment (PPEs) that our healthcare workers need.
^ Daje Pinpiño from Angono, Rizal pays tribute to all frontliners amid the pandemic
with this reimagination of Carlos “Botong” Francisco’s iconic painting.
This is war.
In the frontlines are our medical professionals who tirelessly fight an invisible enemy. Their battle scars are the scratches from overworn face masks and goggles; their mental anguish comes from seeing death in the face every day. No less than soldiers, they spend their days away from their families, risking their lives so the rest of us may live.
At this time of crisis though, it’s difficult to fathom how some people still choose to prioritize politics over compassion.
It’s infuriating to see how, amid all the resources at the Philippine government’s employ, what with the emergency powers recently accorded to the President, red tape bureaucracy still meddles with the urgency of the situation and we have better chances of getting a response from the private sector.
Gusto ko lang sabihin online kung ano'ng madalas kong sabihin offline sa mga kaibigan ko noon pa man:
— Cherry Mae Salazar (@CMGSalazar) March 21, 2020
Sa kabila ng mga sakuna at krisis, mas naaasahan pa ng mga Pilipino ang tulong mula sa mga pribadong indibidwal at grupo.
I first had this thought after the siege of Marawi in 2017, when, despite government funds, rehabilitation and relief remained wanting. Then, again, in the many months that followed whenever the country suffers from natural disasters: earthquakes, typhoons, and landslides.
I long for the day when my words would only portray a past from which we’ve finally recovered.
But for now, the best and worst of humanity can’t be any clearer.
On one end, we have privileged leaders, who care only about their politics and economics in the name of self-preservation. On the other end, there are those doing what they can — even the littlest they can spare, whether it be a few bucks’ worth of donations, time to volunteer and serve, or sharing some social media space for helpful articles online — to shed some light to others in these dark days.
Regardless of our capacity to give, we can all be heroes — though it’s always a matter of choice.
I hope I can say that everything will be over soon or that we’ll be alright in the end with more assertion — but the hard truth is we’re not sure. We can’t be sure. We don’t know how many among us will live to see the day when everything’s over, and the number of those who may not even survive to witness those finer days is still up in the air, dependent on an abstract curve we use to be informed of our decisions and on what we actually do.
The thought breaks my heart. Until we see brighter days, please, let’s do our part. •
So we have 3 importants tasks to fight the #COVID19 pandemic:
— Kim Carmela Co (@EpidLife) March 29, 2020
1. #FlattenTheCurve by practicing social distancing
2. #RaiseTheLine by increasing the healthcare system capacity
3. #LowerTheBaseline by staying at home and avoiding further burden to the system pic.twitter.com/WHt6RDJxPF