I take to writing to survive lonely hours

The anxiety that assailed me refused to subside. Life looked very gloomy.

Rising cases of Covid-19 in Nigeria and Kenya worried me. I had this irrational recurring fear that I would somehow contract the virus, never mind that I rarely got out of my room. Going out to buy must-have supplies seemed very risky.

Even though the supermarkets here were taking all expected hygiene measures, including not allowing us in without face masks, I still didn’t feel safe.

I also worried about my two sons, my daughter-in-law and my grandchild. I felt that somehow, being at home, I would have played a role in keeping them safe.

However, the fact that they are adults was somewhat a relief — they didn’t need me as much as those children whose mothers had been separated from them because they were in quarantine or were stuck in a county that was under lockdown and, therefore, could not travel home.

I talked to my children as much as possible to ensure that they were adhering to the guidelines stipulated by the government and other bodies such as World Health Organisation.

I also kept in touch as much as possible with my extended family and friends, and this in a way gave me comfort.

EMOTIONAL SUPPORT

However, every time someone would ask “How are you doing?” I would get sick to my stomach because it reminded me that I wasn’t doing well, but I would say “I am fine…” accompanied by a smile emoji because I didn’t even know what else to say in response to that question.

And the question kept coming from different people repeatedly, and I kept feeling worse and worse. Considering it was coming from a place of good faith, I felt guilty for feeling resentful whenever someone wanted to find out how I was coping.

A few of my very close friends and family who understand me kept me grounded and would calm me down in the rare moments when I would have a meltdown.

To a large extent though, I kept most of my emotions well-hidden since I didn’t want people worrying about me.

Prayer has played the biggest role in this situation — God is a very integral part of my life.

In spite of my resolution to be brave, I spent a week completely out of it before I realised that I wasn’t helping myself and that I needed to wake up and get on with life.

It was clear that I wasn’t going home, not soon anyway, so I needed to get myself together.

I firmly decided not to worry about what might happen, but instead deal with what was happening at that moment. I decided that I would deal with the day’s challenges as they came.

FOOD BUDGET

I also realised that takeout was too expensive, and that if I continued ordering out, I would have no money left.

I decided to replace my meals with noodles and eggs, which were way more affordable. Luckily, StayCation, being a home-stay kind of facility, were kind enough to allow me to cook when I needed to.

Not having the variety of meals I would normally have at home took a while to adjust to. I would spend meal times fantasising about Kenyan beef stew and plain white Pishori rice as I scooped noodles into my mouth.

To stretch the little money I had left further, I also decided that since I wasn’t doing anything besides sleeping and browsing, not expending any energy at all, I didn’t need to eat that much; therefore, I cut down my meals to one every two or three days depending on how I felt.

I also promised myself to spend a little time every other day at the balcony just to feel alive again. I would bask in the late evening sun which was a bit cooler than the daytime.

Within the area, which is mostly residential, I would see young men playing street football, others in groups chatting.

JOURNALING

I would also see a woman who took daily walks up and down the street, probably exercising. People were determined to keep living.

Right about that time, a friend suggested that I start journaling. I started to put my thoughts to paper when I wasn’t feeling down in the dumps, when I felt a bit motivated.

This calmed me down and at least kept me busy for an hour or two on some days. My days were, and still are, routinely the same. Sleep, wake up, sleep again.

Ms Ndinda is research manager, Transform Research Africa Ltd. She is stuck in Nigeria, where she has been since March 21. TOMORROW: I learn that the Kenyan embassy will repatriate Kenyans willing to pay their own fare back home — but only if they can rally at least 50 people.