It’s Day 84 in the Big Brother (Lockdown) House.
My son has watched Paw Patrol for the 16th time today. My daughter is on the floor having a tantrum because she can’t find the blue tiara for her princess. My wife is discussing the highlight of each day – what we’ll have for dinner.
Lockdowns in Vietnam are the real deal. For the past week, we couldn’t leave our condo. At all. If we wanted food or medicine, a delivery driver would arrive at the entrance gate and place our goods on a table then vanish, all the while watched by a policeman. And while some lockdowns may include being allowed out briefly for exercise, this one didn’t.
Test results showed everyone in our condo was negative, so restrictions were lifted. That meant we could nip across the road to 7-Eleven, but not much else. Having learned to enjoy small victories, this one was nipped in the bud pretty quickly. Today, we learned of a 6pm curfew starting tomorrow. Not that there’s anywhere to go after 6pm, you understand.
Despite all this, we are the lucky ones. The Vietnamese government has done an impressive job of keeping the pandemic at bay – in 2020 it had just 1,465 cases and 35 deaths. That was largely the result of a population that did what it was told – wear a mask and keep your distance – and some Orwellian-style restrictions at the slightest hint of a positive case.
A recent outbreak in Ho Chi Minh City has seen the number of cases rocketing to more than 5,000 a day. Most countries would be quite content with that; Boris Johnson even created ‘Freedom Day’ for the UK last week despite still seeing 50,000 cases a day. There was of course a certain irony that Boris couldn’t enjoy this freedom himself, as he was locked up in self-isolation at the time.
While it is frustrating to spend the summer holed up at home, it could of course be a whole lot worse. In fact, being home together for so long has produced some interesting developments.
I’ve been able to spend far more time with my children than usual. If we were on holiday, we’d be rushing off to some beach or temple, whereas now I get to sit and play, and listen. Each morning my 2-year-old daughter and I make porridge, I read with my 6-year-old son (on good days, he may even write something) and then my wife will do some art with them. It’s simple stuff, borne out of necessity, but sometimes it’s the simple things that are most precious.
In the past month, my daughter’s learned most of the alphabet, we’ve dispensed with nappies and her cheeky nature is starting to shine through. My son has learned how to cycle (up and down our corridor), he’s taken to reading books on his own, and can make a mean chocolate muffin.
Lockdown isn’t ideal, but it does make you focus on what matters. And given the current rate of vaccinations here mean it’s going to be 557 days before a further 10% of the population get the jab, it looks like we’re still going to have plenty of time together.
