life goes on (nearly) as normal

I was just re-reading my last post, and reflecting that little has changed here.  We now have fifteen times the number of cases we had when I posted that in March, but still, less than 2,000 cases in a country of 17 million people is not too bad.  & recovery rates so far are high, and also quite fast, with the controversial hydroxychloroquine being the treatment used here (and I think in much of francophone Africa), in part probably because the French doctor who produced the study has strong links with Senegal having grown up here.

The mood of the population has certainly changed though.  On the few occasions when I go outside, I do not wear a mask until I arrive at a place where it is compulsory (to enter the supermarket, for example).  There seems no point to me in getting hot and uncomfortable behind a mask when I am simply walking along the street minding my own business, not touching anything or interacting with anyone.  But I am just about the only person left, at least in my part of town, who does not wear one in the street, and the silent peer pressure is starting to get to me!

I have not heard of any recent protests over the semi-lockdown we have, with everyone in the country seemingly on board with it.  The government has taken steps to support those in need, with food parcels delivered in the poorer parts of the city, and a month's free electricity to those using below a defined limit (I think this is meant to target the poor, but as a keen environmentalist who therefore tries to minimise her use of fossil fuels I also qualified!).  So it was quite surprising, and disappointing to many people, that the president just announced yesterday some loosening of the restrictions we have, in particular allowing churches and mosques to re-open.  One can only assume that he has bowed to pressure from the religious leaders (particularly as we are in the month of Ramadan when Muslims try particularly hard to be good), but it certainly will mean more contact between people, even if they enforce a one metre distance between attendees as I understand he is asking for.

I hope that having done well so far, the bulk of the Senegalese people will not change their behaviour as a result of this change, but my local colleague shared with me today that his countryfolk "lack discipline", so we shall see.

As for me, whilst sad about missing out on planned work trips and holidays, and worried about the prognosis for travel over the next few years (more restricted, more expensive...), I have coped fine with the situation.  You would think that working from home and mostly interacting only with the staff in the supermarket and the guard on my building's front door (apart from a few phone calls with my parents), I would be feeling lonely - starved of human contact! - but that hasn't been the case.  If anything, I feel better than I normally do in that respect, which I can only assume is because I know that during this period I am not missing out on a social scene since no-one else is going out either!

I've been for a few walks around locally, and on Saturday walked rather further in my totally incorrect assumption that we were shortly to face a tighter lockdown.  I ended up at Ouakam beach - a small beach used by fishermen to store their boats and land their catches - where I'd never been before.  I watched a couple of boats come ashore, landing their catches which included an octopus and two guitar rays.  As you might expect there were cats around the place, and being Senegal there were also sheep (they are everywhere), and one lone pelican who apparently has based himself there as he has some injury that prevents him from living a more normal pelican life.  In fact in most respects it was a regular Senegalese fishing village - except for the masks.

Senegal responding to the pandemic

Given the way things have developed, you won't be surprised to read that I didn't get back to Touba - indeed the Kazu Rajab was cancelled, along with all other religious pilgrimages for the next month, and indeed all gatherings of more than 50 people.  Which includes the gathering of the faithful at Friday prayers.

The power of the Mourides, which I mentioned in my previous post, came to the fore briefly as the government put in place measures to react to the pandemic.  A handful of imams ignored the ban on Friday prayers at the mosque (indeed one made a public pronouncement that matters of life and death are in the hands of God and not for man to try to interfere with!).  Video footage from Yoff, in the northern suburbs of Dakar, went viral - where the police went in to arrest the imam, and the faithful rioted (well, watching the footage, I'd say the bored, unemployed, young men rioted...) - but it was noticeable that no police dared to enter the Great Mosque in Touba, where prayers also went ahead.  Despite Touba being the place with the most cases in the country.

It was a delicate moment, I guess, but there were conversations behind-the-scenes, and the leading lights in the various brotherhoods here have now all endorsed the government's approach.  This was another moment when I felt quite proud of this country.

It will be fascinating to see how they deal with the coronavirus.  So far we have some 120 cases, nearly a quarter of which originated from one man - a "Modou-Modou", the term used here for Senegalese who emigrate to Europe, especially Italy, where the majority go.  He returned to visit his family in Touba, and seems to have been one of the super-spreaders, I think.  Poor guy was interviewed in hospital and said how embarrassed and ashamed he felt to have brought the virus in.  I'm not the only white resident of Senegal who feels a little relieved at this, so unlike in a couple of other countries in the region we are not (at the moment anyway) being targeted by angry locals as 'virus-carriers'.

The government here should have shut the airport earlier, as so many cases have been brought in, but they left it too late as we have already reached the stage of community transmissions (although only a handful as yet), meaning the virus has spread beyond the chain of known contacts.  So what does the government of country such as this do, at this stage?  They have banned large gatherings, they have shut schools, national parks, theatres, etc, they have drastically restricted the number of people allowed in a vehicle at one time so as to enforce social distancing there (and all bus passengers are supposed to wear one of those stupid masks!) - and they have introduced a night-time curfew, from 8pm until 5am.  Of course these measures will help, but the virus does not go to sleep during daylight hours when people are still out-and-about.

However, the consequences of a daytime lockdown are scary.  Many people here (I'm sure I read somewhere 60%) live from day-to-day, that is, they earn enough in a day to buy food for the next day - and that is all.  They have no savings, no cupboard full of stockpiled food, no access to credit, and there is no social welfare system - that's one of the main reasons the birthrate is so high, as your children are your insurance policy for when you get too old/infirm to go out each day hustling to earn money somehow.  So a lockdown means that either these people starve, or we get serious social unrest.  Plus any cutback in activity (including the current effective closure of restaurants, bars and the tourist trade) will result in more unemployment, more poverty and more childhood malnutrition.

Additionally, we have to consider that the poorer section of the population (the majority) live in cramped accommodation where it is not possible to maintain the required distancing.  Nor do they have easy access to clean water, and will not spend money on soaps and sanitising gels if they do not have enough to eat.  Thus the major elements of the public health measures recommended by the World Health Organisation - social distancing and hygiene - are extremely difficult, if not impossible, to implement here. 

& all this is to prevent the spread of a virus which mostly threatens older people, in a continent where only 6% of the population is over 65.

I have no idea what the answer is (and am not necessarily suggesting that we sacrifice a portion of those over-65s to save the rest), but if you can mentally distance yourself from the suffering of individuals and consider the bigger picture, it is a terrible, although fascinating, dilemma for the government.