'Before, During and After Quarantine’
Two weeks before travelling to Dominica, I attended a Buddhist weekend retreat in the English countryside, specifically for people of colour. The weekend was idyllic and fully achieved its objectives of meditation and relaxation, along with socialisation, individual confidence building, and the formation of new friendship groups – no phones, no radio, no TV.
When I returned to London, a telephone conversation with my daughter re-established a different reality. She was distressed that the government had said that people over seventy would not be allowed to leave their homes for over four months, nor receive any visitors. I would be much better off in the sunshine of Dominica and the bosom of family and friends, she concluded. At such times, our “big people’s” hackles rise, as we object to our offspring making unilateral decisions on our behalf. Mine did rise, but only for a short while, as I could see the merit in her argument.
On the very next day and days to follow, all of my meetings, appointments and engagements were cancelled. We decided to change my flight to Dominica via Antigua, initially scheduled for March 28. We were given March 23. That proved very lucky for me, because a few hours after my flight took off, Prime Minister Boris Johnson announced a full lock-down of the whole country. I had got away just in the nick of time.
The journey felt surreal from the start. For the first time ever, in my long experience of travelling to the Caribbean, the large Boeing 747 air plane carried more flight attendants than passengers. The atmosphere felt like that of a Stephen King fantasy, weird. The flight arrived in Antigua safely and on time, where the dominance of the Covid-19 virus was not just in evidence, but heightened. All airport workers were equipped with masks. The faces of passengers were checked at the counter to ascertain our temperature, before we were promptly dispatched to the in-transit waiting area.
The LIAT flight to Dominica was not just on time, it was early. If I thought Antigua airport was brisk and business-like, well Dominica jumped quite a few notches higher. Airport staff meeting and greeting passengers wore masks and gloves. The atmosphere was that of a hospital or medical clinic. We were immediately handed masks, had our temperatures taken and escorted outside to wait for buses to transport us into quarantine.
Quarantine??? QUARANTINE!!! This is not a word which conjures up precise images, not being part of the average person’s experience. Yet it was disturbing, as we understood straight away that none of us would be going home to the relatives who were expecting us that night. There was an immediate flurry of mobile telephone calls. Tempers began simmering too. There were varying levels of shrill and gruff protests and complaints to whoever had ears to hear as equally to no one in particular. Thus it was that we bumped and swerved our way through mostly pitch blackness to our quarantine destination. “Anybody know where we going? “ Someone broke the silence. “Portsmouth” somebody else replied. “Where in Portsmouth?” “Picard, I think they say.”
After under an hour’s drive, the bus stopped. We piled out, many struggling with and often multiple suitcases. The place looked like a hotel or a complex of multi-storied apartments. There were quarantine workers expecting us – this disparate bunch of travellers who had arrived, some from the US Virgin Islands, others from the US and UK – all of Dominican origin, all potential carriers of the dreaded Coronavirus. That possibility more than anything else was what defined us. I sized up the living quarters, especially the steep stairs to the upper floor and got help to place my luggage strategically near the door of room 219. By the time the nurses announced that we could pick our rooms, I had already laid claim to 219, an ample and comfortable living space on the ground floor. There was a distribution of sheets and pillow cases followed by dinner in takeaway boxes, for which we queued up at a safe distance from the distributors and one another.
The first night of quarantine passed peacefully. I was pleased to be awakened by the sounds of crickets, cicadas and two very energetic cockerels. Yes! I was happily home again. Around 9 am, while people came down and hung around waiting for the arrival of breakfast, individuals speculated as to the length of the quarantine. It seemed 14 days was the allotted time although some insisted that they had been told seven days. One angry man seemed to have taken a liking to the word ‘retarded’. He announced that the whole quarantine set up was retarded. Nurses, police, the government, they were all retarded. The teacher in me wanted to shout: “Go to your room at once and
don’t show your face until you are ready to apologise.” But this was no classroom where the rules of behaviour are laid down and understood. It was Jean Paul Sartre who said, “Hell is other people.” And I would add: especially when they are as disconnected as we
were – total strangers from all ages and backgrounds, thrown together in solitude, with no opportunities for conversation or for easily getting basic information. Perhaps no surprise then that frustration played a large part in the display of the antisocial behaviour that we were witnessing amongst a small minority. The same angry man took up a refrain to protest the lateness of lunch one day. “Is it fast and pray today? All you making us fast and pray? I am so hungry.” The refrain was picked up by a couple of others. “Fast and pray, fast and pray.” One irate young woman objected to the fact that the nurses so fastidiously kept their distance when testing her temperature. “She staying far, far from me as if I am a walking corona.” I must say I found the idea of a walking corona funny – theatre of the absurd at its best.
On the fourth day of quarantine came a noticeable change. A most welcome peace and quiet descended on the place. Where were the agitators? Then I noticed that there was no more queuing for meals. The food boxes were placed outside our doors. Why had this decision been taken? My overactive imagination was busy exploring possible explanations. Had warning notes been secretly pushed under
certain doors with the threat: “One more expletive from you and you’ll be put on a plane, back to where you came from”. Whatever it was,
it was working thankfully.
Even before the relief of being tested negative for Covid-19 on the sixth day of quarantine, I bonded with the staff whom I felt had grown increasingly conscientious and caring. For example, they remembered that I preferred fish to meat, water to juice drinks. They were particularly solicitous of the special needs of a partially sighted young man in the room next to mine. They worked very long hours, remaining on duty long after we had all gone to bed. The cleaning teams too were phenomenal. Dressed up like astronauts from head to toe, they terrified the life out of every hidden or stray germ around the compound. The food too was good.
The quarantine experience has reinforced my pride in Dominica and her efforts to successfully combat this pandemic, among other things. She may be “likkle”, but she talawa and that’s the truth. I could not end without a mention of the superb view enjoyed from the window of my room. There, nature was as alive and sustaining as ever, through the bright orange blossoms of a flamboyant tree, two small palm trees
swishing their leafy heads in time to the music of effervescent birdsong -the toutwels and sikiye’s were in fine voice every day. Could that be one of Dominica’s secrets for withstanding Covid-19 necessary lock-downs?
[Twinning Association Ed: Jane is a treasured member and ‘Creative Writing
Workshop’ facilitator of the Waltham Forest, Antigua-Barbuda and Dominica
Twinning Association].
When I returned to London, a telephone conversation with my daughter re-established a different reality. She was distressed that the government had said that people over seventy would not be allowed to leave their homes for over four months, nor receive any visitors. I would be much better off in the sunshine of Dominica and the bosom of family and friends, she concluded. At such times, our “big people’s” hackles rise, as we object to our offspring making unilateral decisions on our behalf. Mine did rise, but only for a short while, as I could see the merit in her argument.
On the very next day and days to follow, all of my meetings, appointments and engagements were cancelled. We decided to change my flight to Dominica via Antigua, initially scheduled for March 28. We were given March 23. That proved very lucky for me, because a few hours after my flight took off, Prime Minister Boris Johnson announced a full lock-down of the whole country. I had got away just in the nick of time.
The journey felt surreal from the start. For the first time ever, in my long experience of travelling to the Caribbean, the large Boeing 747 air plane carried more flight attendants than passengers. The atmosphere felt like that of a Stephen King fantasy, weird. The flight arrived in Antigua safely and on time, where the dominance of the Covid-19 virus was not just in evidence, but heightened. All airport workers were equipped with masks. The faces of passengers were checked at the counter to ascertain our temperature, before we were promptly dispatched to the in-transit waiting area.
The LIAT flight to Dominica was not just on time, it was early. If I thought Antigua airport was brisk and business-like, well Dominica jumped quite a few notches higher. Airport staff meeting and greeting passengers wore masks and gloves. The atmosphere was that of a hospital or medical clinic. We were immediately handed masks, had our temperatures taken and escorted outside to wait for buses to transport us into quarantine.
Quarantine??? QUARANTINE!!! This is not a word which conjures up precise images, not being part of the average person’s experience. Yet it was disturbing, as we understood straight away that none of us would be going home to the relatives who were expecting us that night. There was an immediate flurry of mobile telephone calls. Tempers began simmering too. There were varying levels of shrill and gruff protests and complaints to whoever had ears to hear as equally to no one in particular. Thus it was that we bumped and swerved our way through mostly pitch blackness to our quarantine destination. “Anybody know where we going? “ Someone broke the silence. “Portsmouth” somebody else replied. “Where in Portsmouth?” “Picard, I think they say.”
After under an hour’s drive, the bus stopped. We piled out, many struggling with and often multiple suitcases. The place looked like a hotel or a complex of multi-storied apartments. There were quarantine workers expecting us – this disparate bunch of travellers who had arrived, some from the US Virgin Islands, others from the US and UK – all of Dominican origin, all potential carriers of the dreaded Coronavirus. That possibility more than anything else was what defined us. I sized up the living quarters, especially the steep stairs to the upper floor and got help to place my luggage strategically near the door of room 219. By the time the nurses announced that we could pick our rooms, I had already laid claim to 219, an ample and comfortable living space on the ground floor. There was a distribution of sheets and pillow cases followed by dinner in takeaway boxes, for which we queued up at a safe distance from the distributors and one another.
The first night of quarantine passed peacefully. I was pleased to be awakened by the sounds of crickets, cicadas and two very energetic cockerels. Yes! I was happily home again. Around 9 am, while people came down and hung around waiting for the arrival of breakfast, individuals speculated as to the length of the quarantine. It seemed 14 days was the allotted time although some insisted that they had been told seven days. One angry man seemed to have taken a liking to the word ‘retarded’. He announced that the whole quarantine set up was retarded. Nurses, police, the government, they were all retarded. The teacher in me wanted to shout: “Go to your room at once and
don’t show your face until you are ready to apologise.” But this was no classroom where the rules of behaviour are laid down and understood. It was Jean Paul Sartre who said, “Hell is other people.” And I would add: especially when they are as disconnected as we
were – total strangers from all ages and backgrounds, thrown together in solitude, with no opportunities for conversation or for easily getting basic information. Perhaps no surprise then that frustration played a large part in the display of the antisocial behaviour that we were witnessing amongst a small minority. The same angry man took up a refrain to protest the lateness of lunch one day. “Is it fast and pray today? All you making us fast and pray? I am so hungry.” The refrain was picked up by a couple of others. “Fast and pray, fast and pray.” One irate young woman objected to the fact that the nurses so fastidiously kept their distance when testing her temperature. “She staying far, far from me as if I am a walking corona.” I must say I found the idea of a walking corona funny – theatre of the absurd at its best.
On the fourth day of quarantine came a noticeable change. A most welcome peace and quiet descended on the place. Where were the agitators? Then I noticed that there was no more queuing for meals. The food boxes were placed outside our doors. Why had this decision been taken? My overactive imagination was busy exploring possible explanations. Had warning notes been secretly pushed under
certain doors with the threat: “One more expletive from you and you’ll be put on a plane, back to where you came from”. Whatever it was,
it was working thankfully.
Even before the relief of being tested negative for Covid-19 on the sixth day of quarantine, I bonded with the staff whom I felt had grown increasingly conscientious and caring. For example, they remembered that I preferred fish to meat, water to juice drinks. They were particularly solicitous of the special needs of a partially sighted young man in the room next to mine. They worked very long hours, remaining on duty long after we had all gone to bed. The cleaning teams too were phenomenal. Dressed up like astronauts from head to toe, they terrified the life out of every hidden or stray germ around the compound. The food too was good.
The quarantine experience has reinforced my pride in Dominica and her efforts to successfully combat this pandemic, among other things. She may be “likkle”, but she talawa and that’s the truth. I could not end without a mention of the superb view enjoyed from the window of my room. There, nature was as alive and sustaining as ever, through the bright orange blossoms of a flamboyant tree, two small palm trees
swishing their leafy heads in time to the music of effervescent birdsong -the toutwels and sikiye’s were in fine voice every day. Could that be one of Dominica’s secrets for withstanding Covid-19 necessary lock-downs?
[Twinning Association Ed: Jane is a treasured member and ‘Creative Writing
Workshop’ facilitator of the Waltham Forest, Antigua-Barbuda and Dominica
Twinning Association].
'Our Hurricane Story ’
A community heritage project by Waltham Forest, Antigua & Barbuda and Dominica Twinning Association held at one Hoe Street E17 May 2019.
Presentation of Video 'Telling Our Maria Story ’
Report on Visit to Dominica October 2018 by Lucy Callender Education Officer
The film captured the experiences of some of those who were on the Island of Dominica when Hurricane Maria struck. It had its Private View in September 2018 and was then shown at a Twinning Association General Members meeting with the Mayor present.
The first presentations were delivered, first at the home of Dawn and Michael Green (Portsmouth) where about 25 persons attended. Also attending were 2 of the persons interviewed, Veronica and Joanna. The video was very well received and provoked good discussions especially among the Returnees who wanted to consider follow-up activities inspired by video.
The second presentation was in Roseau at the home of Tina Alexander, the British Honorary Consul on island. The presentation was attended by 12 persons including 3 of the persons on video, Veronica, Pearl, Yvette.
The film captured the experiences of some of those who were on the Island of Dominica when Hurricane Maria struck. It had its Private View in September 2018 and was then shown at a Twinning Association General Members meeting with the Mayor present.
The first presentations were delivered, first at the home of Dawn and Michael Green (Portsmouth) where about 25 persons attended. Also attending were 2 of the persons interviewed, Veronica and Joanna. The video was very well received and provoked good discussions especially among the Returnees who wanted to consider follow-up activities inspired by video.
The second presentation was in Roseau at the home of Tina Alexander, the British Honorary Consul on island. The presentation was attended by 12 persons including 3 of the persons on video, Veronica, Pearl, Yvette.
'Telling Our Maria Story ’
A community heritage project by Waltham Forest, Antigua & Barbuda and Dominica Twinning Association aimed at capturing the experiences of Hurricanes Irma and Maria, particularly in Antigua & Barbuda and Dominica.
Thank you to the participants for sharing their emotional stories. The stories were documented by the Education Officer, Chair and Secretary and captured on film by Tim Williams on 14th July 2018.
The Private Viewing of ‘Telling Our Maria Story’ was screened on Saturday 15th September 2018. Thank you to the Chair for allowing the PV at her house. This film captured the experiences of some of those who were on the Island of Dominica when Hurricane Maria struck.
Stories from Barbuda will also have a viewing. Future dates for the public viewing TBC
Thank you to the participants for sharing their emotional stories. The stories were documented by the Education Officer, Chair and Secretary and captured on film by Tim Williams on 14th July 2018.
The Private Viewing of ‘Telling Our Maria Story’ was screened on Saturday 15th September 2018. Thank you to the Chair for allowing the PV at her house. This film captured the experiences of some of those who were on the Island of Dominica when Hurricane Maria struck.
Stories from Barbuda will also have a viewing. Future dates for the public viewing TBC
'Telling Our Story ’
The Waltham Forest, Antigua & Barbuda and Dominica Twinning Association held a fundraising event with the theme 'Telling our Story' October 2017 at the Lister Hall, Leytonstone High Road Methodist Church. 'Telling our Story’ was an exhibition of performances that were carefully crafted in a series of creative writing workshops under the auspices of Jane U. Grell, a local poet, singer and storyteller of both national and international repute.
Performances on the night included those who had attended the workshops, telling their story through the medium of poetry or expressive storytelling, most of whom had never performed in public before. |
Accompanied by drummer Nya-P and saxophonist Lezek, Jane led the audience in renditions of traditional Caribbean songs. The musical entertainment continued with the sweet sounds of traditional spirituals by soloist Danielle as well as Harry Hughes and his Steel band.
Inspirational and thought provoking historical stories were told by the dynamic Martin Spafford, a local historian. The event ended with members of the DONA quadrille dancers giving a demonstration of the traditional quadrille dance ably assisted by members of the audience in the true spirit of the Twinning Association’s motto ‘Sharing our culture and heritage’. The night was supported by the Mayor of Waltham Forest Cllr Yemi Osho who is the Patron of the Twinning Association, Deputy High Commissioner for Antigua & Barbuda Mrs Althea Vanderpoole Banahene and Mrs Agnes Adonis representing the High Commission of Commonwealth of Dominica. Also in attendance were the executives of the Antigua and Barbuda Nationals Association (ABNA) and Dominica Overseas Nationals Association (DONA). |