In Africa, social distancing is a
privilege few can afford
The
COVID-19 pandemic has already permeated all aspects of life.
While
optimists hope it will force us to rethink inequality and global access to
healthcare, the realists believe the net effect of the pandemic will be to
further entrench the divides that already exist.
© [Reuters] Women walk in
the streets of Abidjan, Ivory Coast following the outbreak of coronavirus
(COVID-19) [Reuters]
In
Africa, the crisis has not yet reached epic proportions. But the cracks caused
by existing inequalities are already showing.
In
South Africa - which declared a national state of disaster because of the
pandemic last week - the working classes are navigating how to avoid
contamination on cramped public transport on their way to meagre-paying jobs
that often only help them live hand-to-mouth, while the more affluent classes
empty large chain stores to stockpile as much food and toilet paper as they
can.
Imaginary borders
In
South Africa, the government only declared a disaster after more than 60 cases
appeared. But Rwanda and Kenya declared decisive measures - including
travel restrictions and bans on public gatherings - just after the first
positive case was reported.
The
option of closing borders to deal with the crisis, which some countries have
already adopted, is undoubtedly a vexed one. South Africa, for example, has
said it will build a 40km (25 miles) fence along its border with Zimbabwe.
Although closing borders contributes positively to the social distancing
recommended by the World Health Organization (WHO), the question is how
practical such a measure will be for African countries.
National
borders were arbitrarily drawn during the colonial era and, for many communities
living along these boundaries, they exist only in theory. We see them on Google
maps. But trade and family ties have been established since way before
colonialism - and they endure. It may be possible to close an official border
post, but so-called "irregular crossing points" - dotted across
hundreds of kilometres and even over rivers and lakes - abound.
As
we saw in the West Africa Ebola outbreak - where the first case was recorded in
Guinea before spreading to Liberia and Sierra Leone - and the cholera outbreaks
that began in Zimbabwe before spreading to South Africa, Botswana and
Mozambique, diseases can easily spread across these essentially imaginary lines
that nation-states carve out.
COVID-19
is not novel in this sense.
The myth of self-isolation
Knowing
the realities on the ground, it is curious that the WHO and ministries of
health in different African countries are recommending that people
self-quarantine if they could have been exposed to the coronavirus. In Rwanda,
for example, a man travelling from the US has potentially infected his wife and
brother, accounting for three of the seven cases. Which raises the question:
how are people in shared accommodation expected to self isolate?
Slums
and informal settlements are also part of the physical infrastructures of many
African cities. All of them were overcrowded and lacked services even before
the threat of a global health crisis emerged.
Think
of Alexandra in Johannesburg, where over 700,000 people are estimated to live
in less than 5 square kilometres (1.9 square miles), Mbare in Harare with
some 800,000 people, Kibera in Nairobi with at least 250,000, and Makoko in
Lagos with over 300,000 whose homes are built on stilts in a lagoon.
Our
big cities also pose a conundrum to people who must commute to work. Anyone who
has been stuck in a traffic jam in a "matatu" (bus) in Nairobi or in
a taxi in Johannesburg - often filled with 12 to 14 people - knows too well
that the idea of social distancing on your way to work is a myth.
Not
only are these overcrowded, but the commute and queues to use them require
significant amounts of time that could potentially expose more people to the
coronavirus.
No choice to 'work from home'
It
is more practical for people who work in offices to "work from home"
but if your only means of livelihood is selling tomatoes or second-hand clothes
at an informal market in a big city, how do you begin to do this
"online"?
The
choice before you is often to stay home and fail to provide the evening meal
for your family, or to brave it out into the city and try and fend for your
family. If I was that person selling at a market, I know what choice I would
make. It is not social distancing.
For
those concerned about the risk of exposure to the virus, the WHO recommends
self-quarantining. This has so far included advice for people not to share
bathrooms, living space and even bedrooms, if they can. But what if you live in
a house where the bedroom doubles as a kitchen and living space - all shared
with your (sometimes extended) family? Such recommendations are even more
absurd if your source of water is a community tap or borehole, or if your
toilet is one you share with a dozen other families. For many people forced to
live on the margins of our societies, this is unfortunately a reality.
Even
in the well-to-do parts of many African cities, getting access to water is a
challenge. Harare's taps have been nearly dry for almost 10 years now - and yet
we recommend that residents not only self-isolate but also regularly wash their
hands.
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