FAILURE TO TRAVEL

The week before last I was certain I would leave in June for two weeks in Denmark. I would travel with Victor, and, with the support of our trusted caseiro, Oswaldo would stay behind to take care of things, including the two frisky dogs. We would spend time with our family, meet our brand-new little niece, and see old friends. We would quarantine in a house generously offered by my sister, and there was a possibility Victor might be able to get the one-shot Johnson vaccine. My blah mood lifted, and I began to imagine being in an atmosphere radically different from Brazil right now, breathing a fresher air, and experiencing a returning feeling of freedom to move around. Excited about the trip, we made little of having to wear a mask for 18+ hours, the exposure to airport crowds, and the Covid strict arrival in Denmark. In my mind I was packing my bags.

Then Covid interrupted in an unexpected manner Our caseiro, who has been with us more than 30 years and who had Covid in December, apparently suffered post-Covid consequences. What looked like heart trouble are in fact panic attacks. In the town where he lives, 2 hours away from Rio, the attending psychologist says her waiting room is full of similar patients, people who experience an acute fear of dying. It renders them unable to work, and they become an enigma to their families, who have never seen them in this fragile state before. 

While we wait to see what will happen – there’s no way we can travel without him here - we return to our isolation routine to which we have now added cautious trips to laboratories for medical tests delayed by the pandemic. We sit in waiting rooms with other masked people, rub our hands with the ubiquitous alcohol gel, and try to control our unease when the examining doctor gets closer. 

 

Throughout this period, in the street outside our house, a sewage cover has been working itself loose, making a loud, explosive sound when cars, buses, motorcycles pass over it. Despite repeated calls to CEDAE, the local water authority, which invariably end with a promise to have it fixed within 5 business days, no one has come to see it. Eventually the cover came off altogether, dangerously popping into the air when hit in a certain way. In order to prevent an accident, passers-by have inserted palm fronds, pieces of wood and branches into the gaping hole, and then others have yanked all of that out and replaced the cover – only to have the whole process start over. I called the Ouvidoria (Ombudsman) and found myself speaking to a woman, who, judging from the background noise, appeared to be working from home and watching TV. When I insisted this was an accident waiting to happen, that someone might die there, she repeated I had to wait 5 business days and asked if there was anything else she could do. Again, no one showed up after that deadline. 

 

This seems to me to illustrate something about living in Brazil right now, where only yesterday the President said to his supporters, “Imagine, there are still idiots who choose to stay at home.” A statement which illustrates the complete lack of empathy at the highest level of government, and which reverberates all the way through the rungs of government agencies. Bolsonaro did have Covid and perhaps his brain has also been affected.

 

In the meantime, at some level, we still nourish a glimmer of hope that everything, somehow, will work itself out for us and for our caseiro.