It’s day whatever of the lockdown, you know the one in South Africa. Yes, the one that also comes with 35 days of prohibition because why not. I began this day by haplessly staring into the distance from my balcony. To the uninformed passerby, my nosy neighbour, it looked like I was staring into the apartment across from mine. I wish I was, because little did I know that at the precise moment I chose to stare into space so I could waste head space, Mr Runs-alot, was doing a bit of home workout. What a pity. There is always tomorrow.

Last week I had a bit of a wobbly, the isolation had hit its apex for me and I needed to escape it. Gripped by the worst moment of aloneness I have ever felt, flirting with vague memories of human contact, I went outside. Walking around the unusually quiet grocery store gave me an eerie feeling that we were all living in a dream. The prohibition element of this lockdown is bringing out the secret alcoholic in all of us that nestled behind social drinking only popping out at the occasional office party or bachelorette. I watched a man stare at the boarded up alcohol session with so much longing it broke my heart. He looked at the unattainable bottle of wine like a lover cruelly taken away by time without warning. Here, in the outside world I quickly realised, that there is far more anxiety being out there than being in here.

While we contemplate our new normal: life under house arrest by our jailer, Covid 19 assisted by our governments, we are getting inventive with how much we eat. Just today I woke thinking about what I would make for lunch. I spend a significant amount of my day Googling recipes, while in meetings I think about how I can improve on the humble grilled cheese – some cayenne with coriander and goat cheese is heaven.  I have eaten maybe six times today, and I don’t care because each meal was a beautiful creation from my mind. Born from my own ingenuity and the careful directions of the lovely people at Tasty, Food Network and BBC Food. All across the globe we are plotting our meals, baking banana bread with competition level vigour, the stores are out of yeast and bicarbonate of soda, food is the new travel brag insta post.

The space and time that we used for thinking about going or getting dressed for the day or commute to work is now taken up by food. All the sensory experiences we take for granted, small talk with colleagues, waiting for the brasita, paying for petrol or just chatting at the watercooler. It’s all gone, a vague memory of life that used to be ours, or maybe we read about it somewhere, or watched it in a movie, was it really ours? Or was it a story about the old days. A life we don’t really remember. 

I think a lot of people must have a sense of interesting sameness, living in this rather wondrous and frightening world. Where our days are so the same but different because it is usual. We don’t even know if reality is truly real, it feels so surreal something you read in a book or watched in a movie. The zombie apocalypse maybe? 

The highlight of my week was two days ago thanks to a very satisfying dream I had about frying chicken. Not just any chicken it was chicken marinated in buttermilk, some cayenne pepper, a little bit of coriander, ginger  and sea salt. Himalayan sea salt to be exact. What made this dream special was that it was a very special chicken because frying it allowed a very popular DJ to go on air. DJ Fresh, a very popular South African radio DJ was unable to go on air without me frying this chicken. I didn’t even get to eat it but I woke up happy. The day it brought forth was glorious, one where I smiled all day and made dirty jokes that I alone got.

This is life in lockdown, in the days of Covid, a series of moments. Some moments connected to each other, others very disjointed. It’s experiences that are old and familiar but seem new and  different at the same time. I often muse about how I will be when I see my friends and family again. How much time will pass before I have the courage to hold them again, just a little touch. How it will be when I would be bold enough to give a hug again and to kiss. How I would savour it. How long that hug would last, a whole world would explode around us. Between my touch and their skin, the darling buds of May wouldn’t stand a chance.  And that first kiss, oh what a kiss it will be. The timidity in our lips, rushing yet cautious. It will tell a thousand stories, of hope, fear, loss, joy and pain. It will hold me in an ever evolving universe. That new unexplored, untouched and glorious moment, it may even be the death of me. Barely breathing I will hold worlds between my lips for what might seem an eternity.

I also think about how I will cope in the presence of crowds. Dealing with being in cars, a plane again, and existing in moments that require other people. Living in the times of Covid means living in isolation of self comforts and mostly relating to the world through technology. How will we behave when the screens are no longer between us? When we are in 3D. What will we do when we meet the world again? When the world proves to be loud, messy and sticky. How will we react to it? What are the sensations that our skin will feel? How will our mind grasp the notion of what is happening? Who will we keep? And who will we lose? In the current state of the world many things become important. Friendships are tested and connections are built with words. More than ever, words matter. When someone says I’ll call you back. Before Covid, it was mild annoyance that your friends were flaky with their words. Now it is the only thing you can count on. The phrase I will call you back, could be the very thing that’s holding you together. In a situation like this where mental health is so much more important. If someone says I’ll call you back and they don’t, it could break your heart.

Who will we be when this is all over? Who are we right now? How do we hold each other accountable for the friendships we build? How do we not only eat our feelings but also learn to express them in healthy and responsible ways? When will I be bold enough to hug again? I think about these things often and I wonder what I will make for lunch tomorrow.