Hunkered Down and Uncertain
/
Two pedestrians maintain social distancing at the intersection of Tomas Morato and Scout Bayoran streets in Quezon City early in the morning of March 29, 2020, two weeks after the national government declared "enhanced community quarantine" to prevent the spread of the coronavirus.
There were no cars and people entering or leaving the gates of the giant ABS-CBN media conglomerate nearby, just bright unblinking lights in the huge compound where, the month before, hundreds of people had gathered at various times to demand that Congress renew its franchise to operate for the next 25 years.
Instead, the entire area was enveloped by a silence so thick you could slice it with a sharp, serrated knife. It was a silence so palpable and foreboding that I decided to go down the 13 steps of the stairs from the cramped apartment unit to the ground floor, open the glass door to the veranda and try to see beyond my immediate surroundings and find my bearings amid the surreal landscape.
So, this is what an unseen enemy does.
In this particular case, we're up against what we now know as COVID-19. You can't really see with the naked eye what the virus looks like. Unless, of course, you have access to an electron microscope with magnification so large you could actually discern its shape and features: a circular microorganism with protruding crown-like tentacles that give it its name.
COVID-19 is perhaps the gravest threat to humanity at this point, as it could lead to hundreds of thousands falling ill and snuffing the daylights out of the unwary and the unprotected, or the simply helpless.
The helpless include the elderly, those aged 60 and beyond with known pre-existing medical conditions such as hypertension, diabetes, and kidney or liver problems, among others.
I'm part of that vulnerable sector, so I'm religiously heeding government warnings to just stay at home.
Lockdown
The eerie silence that has enveloped the area where I live, the Morato-Timog area in Quezon City, comes after the national government declared an "enhanced community quarantine" in the whole of Metro Manila from March 15 to April 14 and, later, over the whole island of Luzon, due to the viral outbreak. Elsewhere in the country, local government units have also imposed the same "enhanced community quarantine"—a euphemism for total lockdown—to prevent the further spread of the infection.
The total lockdown has stopped all public transportation in their tracks and shuttered most business establishments except banks, grocery stores and pharmacies. All schools are now closed, some used as temporary shelter for those in isolation tents. Some churches are open to allow the faithful to pray, but Masses are, for now, held only online. A curfew from 8 p.m. to 5 a.m. keeps people inside their homes for a total of nine hours.
For all practical purposes, it's a virtual 24-hour lockdown for everyone, as authorities allow just one member of a household to go out to buy food or medicine. A policy of social distancing is now in place to keep people at least a meter away from each other.
The giant media conglomerate that in normal times teems with a never-ending stream of people, including production staff and fans of variety shows, has likewise shut down for the meantime. Two weeks before it suspended operations, the network's staff and supporters had been holding weekly rallies to urge government to renew the network's franchise, which ends in early May. While the network's problem with franchise renewal has taken a backseat with the onset of the COVID-19 crisis, workers and talents cannot help but worry over their uncertain future.
The ABS-CBN media network in Quezon City continues its radio-television broadcasts with a special coverage of the COVID-19 public health crisis even as the renewal of its franchise ending on 31 March 2020 hangs in the balance.
Working from home
The unusual quiet in the area where I live is punctuated only by the constant whirr of air-conditioning units nearby trying to beat the scorching tropical heat. A few vehicles whizz by, but overall the silence is a big plus for me as I can do my work as a freelance writer-editor with little distraction.
While some would consider working from home a novel idea that they have been forced to adopt because of the temporary lockdown, it's nothing new to me as I've been working from home since 2001, or 20 years ago.
Before I turned to freelance writing, I worked as section editor for three broadsheets starting in 1996 until 2000. Two of the newspapers went belly up after failing to obtain additional funding to continue operations. The other paper is still up and running, but has transformed from a broadsheet into a tabloid with screaming headlines.
Working from home or telecommuting has allowed me to write columns for three different broadsheets at various times from 2005 up to now. These days, I have ample time to write my twice-weekly column for a national broadsheet and to submit news features and commentaries to an online news service. If there's one positive aspect that the lockdown has brought, it has given me more time to write.
Lifestyle changes
The total lockdown in Luzon from March 18 to April 15 and the resulting restrictions on mobility have brought about a drastic change in lifestyle for everyone.
As a senior citizen and part of the demographic considered the most vulnerable to COVID-19, I have had to adjust to an even more sedentary daily schedule.
My left lung collapsed in 1975, partly from what appeared to be our family's predisposition to weak lungs. I think it was in February that year that I woke up one day with shortness of breath and asked my mother to take me to the hospital. She brought me to the Quezon Institute for treatment. But that health did not stop me from continuing to smoke for 10 more years, sometimes as much as three packs a day.
I quit smoking cold turkey only in 1985, shortly after two of my colleagues at work dropped the unhealthy habit. Like them, I had much difficulty breathing. But even after I decided to quit smoking, my lung function was never the same again, as to this day I’ve had to deal with bronchitis and shortness of breath especially during the rainy season.
I therefore dread the COVID-19 outbreak just as much or perhaps even more than those with pre-existing conditions like myself.
I recently came across an online copy of a manual on the prevention and treatment of COVID-19. It is based on the recent experiences of Chinese doctors in treating patients. It is a useful guide for medical practitioners as it details how hospitals should treat patients afflicted with the disease, which ravages the respiratory tract and causes what's known as "white lung," or the twin lobes gradually being filled with viscous phlegm that leaves the patient with the sensation of drowning. This is a sign of severe pneumonia that eventually leads to death.
Fear of the future
The elderly, therefore, have every reason to fear the virus and its deadly invasion of the lungs. And the extent of the COVID-19 crisis—it started in China but has now engulfed other countries in Asia, Europe and North America—tells us that the situation is grim, and that it is likely to get worse before it gets better.
Yet, life must go on despite the lockdown, the restricted mobility and the uncertainty of survival during this public health crisis.
At this point, we're already halfway through the one-month lockdown that's supposed to end on April 14.
I worry about the economic cost of this crisis. Economic activity has ground to a virtual halt. Malls are all closed, except those establishments offering essential services, such as banks and remittance centers. The near-total standstill of land, air and sea transportation, except those allowed by government to deliver food, medicine and other needs, would certainly lead to a substantial reduction in GDP growth this year, especially if the lockdown extends beyond a month. The economic crunch will hurt the poor and the disadvantaged the most.
The lockdown has also wreaked havoc on social cohesion. Apart from church services being offered online (although some churches have chosen to open their doors for those wishing to pray in silence), all forms of entertainment and sports activities are also on hold. Many people are forced to rely on the internet and broadcast networks to get information and news about what's happening around us.
The bright side of the lockdown is that Filipinos are helping one another. The front liners—doctors, nurses, medical technologists and support staff in both government and private hospitals, as well as the police, military and local government units —are working practically round-the-clock to keep the health crisis from going out of bounds. They ought to be given due recognition by a grateful nation when the crisis subsides.
Work goes on at a medical diagnostic facility along Tomas Morato St. in Quezon City amid the lockdown in the whole of Luzon in mid-March due to COVID-19.
We have yet to assess the political cost of the crisis. What I know is that VIPs getting preferential treatment over ordinary people in getting tested for the viral infection will diminish whatever goodwill government has earned from its handling of the crisis. Health authorities are really doing everything within the limits of their power to address the outbreak, but they face big odds due to lack of adequate resources, both human and material.
Will the Duterte administration emerge from this gargantuan public health emergency unscathed, or will the president's "excellent" trust ratings (according to polls) be greatly diminished? We don't know. But I sense that the lack of test kits, inadequate health facilities to treat patients, and cases of excessive zeal by security forces and local officials in enforcing the lockdown on the ground, would no doubt underscore the fact that the administration has been unprepared to meet the challenges of a dire national emergency.
The main measure of the government's ability to contain the contagion should be a reduction in the number of infections and deaths. If the numbers continue to rise after a month, then the public health system will be overstretched and simply break down, forcing the continuation of the lockdown and massive economic losses—and perhaps even political unrest that could severely test the Duterte administration's capability to maintain business as usual in the months ahead.
Ernesto M. Hilario
Ernesto M. Hilario studied Political Science at the University of the Philippines and has worked for various government agencies, NGOs and mainstream media since 1978. He writes a regular column for the Manila Standard broadsheet and also works as a freelance writer-editor.