Late Arrival

When Jokes Prove True

Growing up, we always joked of just how backwards our country was. Even more, we joked about our the irrelevance of our small town. A constant self deprecating stream flew through our mouths. A fact we’d try to laugh at, before succumbing to its grim reality.

Well this week proved our joked right. We really are backwards , with every global trend. Even COVID-19.

In North Macedonia, the first cases of the virus showed up in early March, quickly spreading throughout our small mountenous country. But one small sparsely populated mountain town, connecting a well known tourist destination to a larger town, somehow managed to avoid the virus for three months.

Resen, my hometown, remained the only city in the country to have zero confirmed cases of the virus. With everyone’s kids returning from study either abroad(emphasis me) or the capitol, I wondered just how that was possible. We only followed the reccomrndations for a month, of staying home. The more time passed, the more relaxed we became, the more measures we broke.

Cafés and restaurants opened this month across the country. Masks are mandatory for all staff, tables need to be a minimum of one meter apart. Only two people can sit at the same table, four if they’re a family.

Now of course, waitors only wear their masks across their chins or mouths, never daring to cover their nose. Tables themselves are far apart, but once the chairs are pulled out, the distance dissapears. The two per table rule never lasts after four o’clock (when the inspector shift ends) and barely even registers before that.

All around the country, groups of mask-less people occupy several adjoining tables, creating a conversation circle. In our town, you can’t sepperate people. Even in our own bar, people crowd around a table, some standing some sitting. The inspectors force them to get up, but they don’t leave. They just wait for her to go to the next bar, and carry on their day.

Some things have changed though, like a proliferation of people covering their chins with masks. By law, you can’t walk in a group of more than two people without masks. The mask doesn’t actually have to cover your face though,. Handshakes are out, but fist bumps are very much in. Hand sanitizer rests on every table and fine paranoia is increased for every business.

Well it finally happened. The ramifications are still unclear, but our infection rate is rising. Three months later, the fear that hit the world is upon us.

Someone hosted a celebratory dinner with some out of town friends. A former police officer and a teacher got sick. From them, a waitor got sick just as his restaurant opened. He’d gone to the hospital, only to be assured that he couldn’t have gotten the Coronavirus. We don’t have that in our town. Assured, he went to work sick, for a whole week, infecting almost the entire staff.

Loose connections abound in Resen, with everyone knowing everyone else. Factories are panicking, testing or quarentining their workers. Businesses are closing again, by their own volition. Cafés and restaurants are hit the hardest. Will they ever open again? Fear is higher than ever. The government isn’t stepping in. They’re dragging their feet, reporting the numbers of infected as slow as they can. Dipping their toes slowly, first ten then thirty. The true number is too high to announce.

They’ve acted far too late. More than a week has passed since the first infections in Resen. The government even waited days after the first positive test, to trace and lockdown everyone whose been in contact with him. The whole town should be in lockdown, but that won’t happen. Death and infection rates soar. By official statistics were the third hardest hit town today.

The jokes are still coming. We just might be the first country to hit 100% infected population. Most of our neighbors have enacted a quarantine measure should any one of us want or need to visit their country. Our own government has given up on us, letting everything roam free. They are rushing to set up an election, a last ditch effort to stay in power before everything gets even worse.

We’re the worst hit country in Europe, racing Moldavia to the bottom. The government is still loosening restrictions. We are alone, with no one to save us.