We met at Amelia’s

Sorted by: Theme: Identity & Social Change

Written Story by Daniela Ortiz Mendez

We met at Amelia’s

Saludos, mi nombre es Daniela Ortiz Mendez, 

and I want to share a poem, a story, a memory with you. 

This all took place in my head, in her head, in our countries, and across a border. It was May 2021. 

We met at Amelia’s 

And we sat down for tacos and coffee 

It pained me to see her so sad, but I knew it was nothing compared to her loss. She told me she hadn’t taken a break 

“The business isn’t going to run itself” 

I hate how legalities can stifle grief 

She gave me a golden box, her most prized possession 

It was heavy, 

the weight of responsibility, 

of sadness, 

of wanting to desperately do more 

I’m so sorry I couldn’t. 

This gold urn with ashes of loved ones was the cost of our healthcare system 

I traversed airport lines and land borders, carrying this urn on my back; I arrived in Tijuana, next to the kiosko with bright crepe paper hanging from the wrought iron This plaza that had once been my childhood stomping grounds 

Now I stood there, 

So much anger and guilt, my insides felt wrought too 

This American Dream turned to systemic letdown, 

I’m sorry this country didn’t do more. 

The feeling of having to hand over the loved one of a loved one, 

Because they can’t leave 

Because lack of business benefits 

Because legal status 

BECAUSE OUR COUNTRY DOESN’T CARE ENOUGH 

He flew from a different state to retrieve his father 

And as I handed him to his son, 

Transference of weight, 

We shared a moment that I hope in the future will not exist,

Where loved ones can cross country lines to be with each other in life, “en vida”, without borders and visas holding them back instead of carrying their ashes on our backs, Where our healthcare system gives quality treatment to all of their patients, even those of us who can’t advocate in English, 

Where we don’t have to be crying at a fucking Amelia’s because we lost someone. 

More pandemics will come 

And I hope we can learn, change 

Because saline sadness don’t belong on café y tacos 

And we are tired of tallying up lives, 

of bringing home people who should have had more years, 

More breathing, 

laughing, 

crying, 

and loving in the arms of their amor

Written Story by Cori-Anne Woodard

A Grocery Store Worker in Covid Times

I am the person at the grocery store who moves the carts around, the person who cleans the bathrooms, the person who helps you shop, the person who drops the shopping baskets in a pile, right by the door, for you, the customer, to pick up and do your shopping. 

I wear the typical blue jeans uniform, work casual, with the bright colored vest so that you can see me. 

But. You don’t.

For the most part, during the Covid-19 pandemic, I was just doing my job, going in to work, every day to the grocery store, as I witnessed the pandemic, and its effects, observing silently, in this town square environment, as you the customer, hoarded toilet paper, chicken, eggs, yeast, anything to make you feel like this was not the end of the world. 

During these dark times, especially at first, when we didn’t know much about this new virus, a sure and silent killer, how it spread, who would get it and why. It was like being in a long, dark tunnel, an endless night, where no one goes to sleep and where no one wakes up, either. 

Every single day, just like the last, no page turns, just the same words, the same sentence, over and over: Is this life, or death? Is this my last day? Is this the day I die alone, in a hospital, nurses hovering over me, like mourning doves, and my friends and family just moving images in a frame on a  tiny cell phone?

One day at work, my manager asked me to stay; he had already approved unlimited overtime. The store had already met last year’s dollar intake, and the day was only half over. I moved into the place at the end of the register and began bagging groceries. Me, on robot mode, now, looking for the end of the line. There was no end. I was sleep-working, opening the bags, putting the suddenly invisible amounts of goods into the countless bags. My arms on autopilot, my eyes unable to comprehend the purchases, my senses acutely aware of the real fear in each customer’s eyes. It was the fear of a wild animal on the hunt. It was the fear of the unknown; the poignant, wretched fear of the loss of control. 

I hoped no one would act out and do anything rash. 

I hoped I wouldn’t get this new, terrible disease. I hoped I would see customers again. And my coworkers, I hoped they would stay well. 

Written Story by Catherine

As an immune compromised disabled person, the possibility of getting COVID-19 was  terrifying. My partner is a mechanic and was considered to be an essential worker who could not  work from home, so knowing he was going in and out of other people’s vehicles everyday was  also very concerning for me throughout the process. Add to that the shortages of hand sanitizer,  antibacterial hand soap, and various cleaning products, I often worried he wasn’t able to sanitize  things well enough as he went in and out of stranger’s cars. I was constantly afraid he would get  COVID-19 and pass it to me, knowing that if I got it I could end up hospitalized or dead. I began  hearing stories about disabled folks in hospitals who were denied adequate medical care, and due  to lack of beds and ventilators they were being left in hallways to die, as medical staff were  making decisions about who lives and who dies. I was devastated to see how people with  disabilities were being treated like they were insignificant and didn’t deserve to live, and I feared  the worst could happen to me too.  

There has been such rampant misinformation in the past several years, it has really been  shocking to see how a public health crisis became such a politicized issue for so many people. It  brought out some of the most selfish behaviors in a lot of people, as if they were completely  oblivious to the fact that we live in a world where we should be helping support the most  vulnerable people, and instead were labeling the elderly and disabled people as being disposable.  It was appalling to witness so many anti-vaxxers and anti-maskers just not even care about how  their actions (or lack thereof) affect so many others. The fact that so many people were saying it  was their choice to not wear masks or not get vaccinated completely ignored how those choices  could affect the lives of others.  

Even now, I still have to deal with family members questioning my choice to wear masks and get  vaccinated, by telling me “don’t believe the covid hoax” or that I am just “giving into fear.” My  own mother came to visit me last year and I had insisted she needed to wear a mask on the plane  even though the mask requirement had been lifted. When she was here she made a comment  about people wearing masks in the airport and I said to her “but you were wearing a mask too,  right?” and she responded “no, why would I do that?” I reminded her she had promised me she  would and she just said “oops, I forgot.” She also questioned my insistence that she wear one in  the grocery store while she was visiting, to which I said “because I am immunocompromised”  and she responded, “yeah, but I’m not.” It’s been really heartbreaking at times to see so much  disregard for those of us at higher risk and to see so many people just not care or understand how  their choice to not wear masks can affect us.  

I’ve struggled to find ways to interact in person with others while not knowing who to believe  about how safe they actually are and trying to navigate risk factors on a continual basis. This was  already a concern of mine for years regarding the cold and flu, but COVID-19 just brought it to a  whole new level. After about a year of isolation where the only person I saw in person was my  partner who I live with, I tried to find the courage to safely meet up with friends again. I ended  up having multiple times where the friend I was supposed to meet with ended up canceling  because they contracted COVID-19. It left me feeling like there was no point in even trying  anymore and I just needed to stay inside my safe bubble.  

In addition to the isolation I was feeling from the pandemic, there were so many political and  social justice movements happening at once. I had family members and friends who were 

following QAnon and trying to push their beliefs on me, while I was just fighting to survive.  During the summer of 2020, Portland became an epicenter for white supremacists to gather  during the Black Lives Matter protests. We heard helicopters and gunshots on a nightly basis,  and I had numerous friends who were targeted by the Proud Boys due to their race. I even heard  air raid sirens in the middle of the night a few times after Trump sent in the National Guard to  take down the protestors. Then the Oregon wildfires in the summer of 2020 made it feel like I  was living a post-apocalyptic nightmare. I felt completely overwhelmed that there was so much  happening in the world out of my control. I hit a deep depression, consumed by my feelings of  helplessness.  

I found the best way to work through that pain was by throwing myself into pursuits of racial and  disability justice movements. I may not be able to safely endure the front lines at protests, but I  knew I could offer my skills in virtual spaces to help bring others together through these social  justice movements.  

In the late spring of 2020, I volunteered to help set up an online Facebook group to go along with  the Crip Camp Virtual experience (a 16 week seminar focused on Disability Justice). I thought  maybe a few dozen or so local Portlanders would be interested in joining a discussion group, but  before I knew it the space was shared with the organizers of the event and they began promoting  it as the community led FB group for people to join. Within a matter of weeks we had over 4,000  members from all over the world, and recruited an admin and moderator team of about 20  people. We then created 3 separate groups so that disabled folks could safely share their thoughts  and feelings with one another, allies could have their own space, and then our moderator team  had their own group to work through creating group rules together and also deal with  problematic issues as they came up.  

After Crip Camp Virtual finished, I was asked to step up as administrator for a Portland based  Disability Justice FB group, and by the following summer I applied to be on the board of a new  Disability Justice nonprofit. There I became the project manager of a virtual zoom space called  “Crip Create” that is rooted in the principles of Disability Justice. This space helps bring together  disabled folks from all over the world to be in community with one another for coworking, body  doubling, and socialization. It has been incredibly valuable to help those of us still living in  isolation to have a sense of comradery and validation for the experiences we have due to the  numerous oppressions we face as disabled and multiply marginalized individuals (the majority of  the people who come are also LGBTQIA+ and/or BIPOC). That space has been an actual life  saver for me and so many others, and I am so grateful that I have had the opportunity to help run  and organize that space for so long. 

I am beyond grateful for the opportunities that I have found to engage with my communities  virtually in pursuit of Disability Justice. I have found myself much busier and more fulfilled  being able to participate in so many amazing virtual events and give back to my community in  this way. While many able-bodied folks complained about how awful it was to be stuck at home  during the lockdowns, for me that was the life I had already known. I was tremendously grateful  to see so many spaces shift to allow for virtual participation and find new ways to engage with  the community. For me, that is a gift that I found through the pandemic. I hope that in the future organizers can continue to make events and community spaces more accessible to everyone by  also offering virtual opportunities for engagement.  

Witnessing the horrors of the pandemic was incredibly overwhelming and terrifying in numerous  ways. I struggled a lot with being frozen in fear and not knowing what I could do to help. In  contrast to my anger about all of the selfishness that many people were exhibiting, I found hope  in seeing all of the mutual aid happening around me, and I wondered how I (given my limited  resources and physical abilities) could give back too. I tried to move my way through the dread  and outrage by focusing on the love and generosity I saw. There was a lot of ugly but there was  also a lot of beauty. I took this opportunity as a call to action for me to put my organizational  skills to work, fighting against systemic injustice and oppression by creating a deeper connection  with my community and others. 

Written Story by Soup

“After two years of near monastic devotion to safety, my girlfriend of eight years and I caught COVID. She caught it from work — Her only unsafe activity being the compulsory one. I caught it from her — The only person left in my life that I had not quarantined myself from. I write this from my sickbed. I’m trying to ignore the fire in my throat and the funny feeling that claws with every painful breath. 

Three months ago, my Dad died from long term medical neglect. His death and the consequent discovery of the severity of his neglect was monumental. It was a bomb with a sparkling fuse, thrown into the already shaky remains of my life in a post-pandemic world. The night before I knew my dad was dead, I stayed up all night watching Russia invade Ukraine on CNN. 

When I forced myself to go back to work two weeks later, (my job making pizza crust is essential, after all), the IPCC delivered their new dismal report on the state of our climate. In the weeks before I got sick with COVID, a barrage of legislation passed to restrict the rights of trans people. My girlfriend didn’t feel safe coming to and from work anymore. As I lay in bed, near delirium with a plague induced fever, the entire country took off their masks and declared the pandemic finally over. 

I’d known for months I was close to the breaking point. I could not say how close. Now, I know I am at it.” 

I wrote this in April of 2022. More than a year has passed, and I find myself thinking more and more about the concept of a breaking point. 

Something broke in me when I caught COVID for the first time. Fatigue made a home in my bones. Insecurity became a familiar. I finally understood that the instability I was feeling would not go away. It felt in my body like the breaking of a bone under pressure. The pressure hasn’t lifted. 

Every problem I was worried about in April of last year is worse and more complex now, like a knot you just can’t unwind. I don’t have to tell you about the war, or the fascists threatening transness, or the lack of masks. You know these issues the way I do, as the children of familiar friends that you’ve watched grow up. 

I’ve had COVID twice more since that first time. I still wear an N-95, I avoid large public gatherings, and I’m vaccinated. But it doesn’t matter, because my partner is an essential worker. A play-with-it-until-it-breaks essential worker. Free to use and free to throw away essential worker. 

Of course, they don’t call us that anymore. They just tell us to get back to work. I don’t think of my breaking point the same way I did last year. A person does not break all at once, like shattered glass. They break in chunks, like the cliffs slowly eroded by the waves. I’m breaking every day, sometimes in catastrophic landslides, but more often through the slow and steady erosion of everything that mattered to me in a Life Before COVID.

Written Story by Anonymous

50 years from now, I will be close to my 70s. Hopefully I have grandchildren, and I was a great parent to my children so that they feel comfortable enough bringing my grandchildren to me. I wasn’t fortunate enough to have my grandparents, but I had my parents. I got to hear stories of how things were back in the day. They would end it with a chuckle saying “it was a crazy time”. They lived through a civil war, so it was definitely a crazy time. Growing up I got to hear what I think are exaggerated stories of their childhood, and how life was. I don’t know if I feel lucky, or overwhelmed to live out my teen years during historical times. It is both. 

In 50 years I would like to exaggerate COVID and its effects in my life and my community, but how do I exaggerate something that in itself just seems ridiculous and unbelievable. I will tell my grandchildren of how people’s first reactions were to stock up on food. I went into the WinCo by my house with my mum, thinking we were ahead of the game. Trying to stock up and get ready for the lockdown, but as we walked in we saw a crowd of people. The whole place was packed. I called myself an expert cart driver, and that title was tested that day. We had to maneuver around people speed walking to grab things before they were gone. If you wanted something but got there too late, it was empty. I had never seen WinCo this packed, even for the holidays. My grandkids will understand people stocking up on food, but may not understand people stocking up on toilet paper. The sociological theory of the self-fulfilling prophecy, where people thought that toilet paper was going to run out, and then ended up making the toilet papers run out. That one still baffles me. 

People were stocking up for food, and then what? Then came the lockdown. The streets were deserted. How are my grandchildren, and even people in 50 years going to believe that? Our population is growing rapidly. Unless we have somehow figured out a way to live on Mars and move people there, there is no way our streets will ever be empty. It will be no exaggeration when I tell them that there were no cars on the streets, no people, no dogs. No one was outside during this time. It was empty. People turned to the internet so much more than before. TIKTOK, if it is still a thing by 2073, saw an exponential growth during the lockdown. That was how people communicated. We are moving more and more into a digital age, and it is fair to say the pandemic played a huge part in it. More virtual jobs, due to adaptation and in some way, the fear of experiencing a virus that can shut the world down. The world. Not just one city, state, country, or continent, but the world. Everyone was submissive and at the mercy of COVID-19. The mention of its name still shakes heads, and in 2073 still will. 

I remember engaging my AVID class in 9th grade to sing the happy birthday song as I washed my hands. And now we all graduated on the 17th still somewhat feeling like strangers. We finished our 9th grade year online, and for the most part of our sophomore year too. By Junior some of us, including me, went on to be a part of the Early College Program. My “highschool experience” of walking down the hall, being loud and obnoxious on the bus, making friends and rivals, were all limited to the first semester of 9th grade. The class of 2023 had to grow up fast. We had to grow out of the highschool phase faster than we had thought. I was the class of 2023, and in 50 years I will continue to mention how we had to say goodbye twice. In 9th grade, and in the 12th grade as well. How do I explain to my grandchildren in a way that allows them feel my hurt of being robbed of my highschool experience? All the individual crazy highschool

stories I could have had to share with them before I “knew better” all came down to the one I’m writing. I got to witness the explosion of the digital world, people fighting for toilet paper, WinCo being crowded, and looking at names on black screens rather than people’s faces. 

I have always thought about exaggerating my life stories to my kids and grandkids, just like my parents and relatives exaggerated theirs to me. My journey is definitely not over yet, as I am just about to enter college. I will have many more stories to exaggerate, and many more stories to tell. However the pandemic, I couldn’t possibly exaggerate that. The facts alone are jarring. Nothing else has been able to bring the world together like COVID-19, and in 50 years, nothing else might have either. Living through history is something special, and terrifying. I cannot skip pages to see how it ends. I wish I could have. I thought the pandemic would never end. Like an apocalypse movie, I really thought we were all going to die. We celebrate the medical teams that put their lives on the line every day. That puts in their time, strength, and mind into helping. We grieve those we lost, and those who lost something. We congratulate those who made it through and adapted, which is everyone still here. All in all, it was something. We had our ups and downs, but we healed. Even the earth was healing itself from the madness. I will definitely say we got grounded by mother nature. I will not forget to leave. out. Add it as a warning to my grandchildren. Be good to the earth, remember what happened in 2020. It was really a crazy time.

Written Story by A. Smith

Creativity for Equal Access

Because of the pandemic, we currently live in a world where immunocompromised and other disabled and high-risk people don’t have equal access to society. 

Somehow, we’ve rewound and rewritten the last 50 years of disability history, protest, and legislation. 

COVID is still here, and everyone is still being impacted by it in many different ways, even when that isn’t always acknowledged. It especially now feels so present for immunocompromised and other high-risk people, because the societal and governmental desire to “move on” has left many vulnerable people behind. When even a visit to the doctor’s office now provides an increased risk of severe illness or death for more vulnerable people because masking is no longer being used for infection control, higher-risk people face a much harder time trying to protect themselves. I find it so immensely difficult and burdening to try to protect myself, and this burden has expanded a lot because we’ve as a society largely stopped trying. 

Instead of trying to reduce exposure, we’ve stopped counting cases. 

Instead of the most simple act of care – wearing a high-quality mask when sharing spaces with others indoors, because COVID spreads the air – we often refuse to do so, choosing instead to leave large numbers of people out of society instead of doing something we find slightly less convenient that would allow for other people to access public spaces. 

And with each of these things, the world becomes less and less safe for vulnerable people.

What the world is missing is creativity. Many disabled people have learned how to be innovative and creative in order to reshape the world to match their needs. My disabled parents taught me this from a young age – to change according to the circumstances; that a life well lived includes creativity to address what you experience. I have learned this even more as an immunocompromised, mainly bedbound adult. Adapting things, being creative, you can not only make things work, you can make them work well.

The world was so much more equal in access for many disabled people starting at the beginning of the pandemic (a pandemic that is not yet over). Suddenly, I could watch a favorite performer’s concert online or tune in to an opera or join in other virtual opportunities. Although I can no longer work so it did not personally affect me, many people were now allowed to work remotely – something which I had been denied by a job years earlier (“If you’re well enough to work from home, you’re well enough to come to work” is what HR told me). The world became more accessible in 2020, because everyone needed accessibility. 

But over the last couple years, the world has become less accessible again. Most food places have stopped offering curbside options, even though immunocompromised people can’t safely go into spaces where there are a lot of unmasked people. The world largely stopped the online performances, the virtual conferences, the accessible options disabled people for years had advocated for. Instead of keeping a more accessible infrastructure, we have dismantled it in our attempts to claim some semblance of “normal”. But nothing is “normal” yet, and normal cannot and should not include inaccessibility. 

Indeed, we’ve retreated in our accessibility even further than where we were before the pandemic started. We’ve gotten rid of mask requirements that allow immunocompromised and other more vulnerable people to more safely access areas of society such as the store, doctor’s offices, and public events. This creates a culture where higher-risk people have to risk getting a virus that can cause severe illness or death to access public spaces. As disabled advocates teach, public accommodations belong to every person; they do not only belong to people who consider themselves at less risk. And yet, societally we are currently ignoring the equal rights of higher-risk people and see it as okay, because we want to avoid physical reminders, such as masks, of the traumas we’ve experienced and continue to experience. 

We’ve largely ignored that in the last year, two of our main tools – monoclonal antibodies and the preventative treatment Evusheld – no longer work because of how COVID’s evolved. Many people often act as though higher-risk people need to just get on with it and stop taking precautions, even though a lot of COVID remains in our communities and the CDC still tells immunocompromised people to avoid crowded and not well ventilated spaces and to mask and stay away from others if they have to go into such spaces. The World Health Organization often reminds people of the dangers of Long COVID and how many people are still passing away from COVID. Meanwhile, many act as though “life goes on,” but this is with the loss of so many people and of other people continuing to be excluded, and that affects the world in many different ways.  

We need to be better, and we need to be creative. If we’re creative, we can reduce COVID transmission and ensure that disabled people have equal access to society. 

Society as a whole ran from staying at home the moment that they could, even though the early days of staying home were largely the same as my every day experiences as a mainly bedbound person. It’s hard to think about your everyday experience being something that others can’t wait to move away from. But I’ve learned how to adapt, be creative, live my life in a way that meets my needs and is beautiful. Disabled people have tried to share this knowledge with the world over the past three years, and the world has largely ignored this in favor of the “normal” that we wish we could go back to. 

However, we as a society could improve so much by building back creatively, innovatively, accessibly. This can include simple things like wearing masks in public spaces, requiring masks in healthcare settings, and improving ventilation. It’s not too late for us to create a more accessible society and ensure equal access to all members of society, all of whom have an equal right to public spaces. We just have to be creative.

Written Story by Morena Lopez

La pandemia y mi cambio de vida

Empecé como voluntaria en una organización sin fines de lucro y sin darme cuenta estaba  aprendiendo en ese lugar me daría la oportunidad de cambiar mi vida en los tiempos de  pandemia. 

Para mucha gente o para la mayoría, la pandemia fue la etapa más difícil de sus vidas, perdieron  familiares queridos. Otros perdieron empleos, perdieron casas, y perdieron la estabilidad que  tenían. Yo también perdí a alguien que quería y mi familia sufrió grandes cambios, pero no fue  por causa de la pandemia sino por otros efectos y decisiones tomadas anteriormente, y aunque  ese cambio fue muy difícil tengo que decir que la pandemia jugó un papel muy importante y  para mi a diferencia de otras personas no fue malo. Por fortuna en mi familia no murió nadie,  mi estabilidad mejoró, no perdí empleos sino que mejoró y mi familia no sufrió por hambre. Por  fortuna gracias a la pandemia mi vida dio un giro de 180 grados. 

En noviembre de 2020 se abrió una posición para trabajar en un sindicato de trabajadores  agrícolas. Un puesto de organizadora comunitaria con el enfoque en repartir materiales de  protección por covid, mascarillas desinfectantes guantes así como información de prevención  de covid. Anteriormente trabajé en el campo por más de 8 años haciendo todo tipo de trabajos,  azadón, poda, pizcas. 

Empecé a trabajar en este sindicato y aparte de que este trabajo me dio estabilidad económica  y mental. Me dio la oportunidad de aprender de la comunidad, aprendí la capacidad de  resiliencia que tenemos como individuos, y que a pesar de cada reto que enfrentamos y de cada  golpe que recibimos tenemos la capacidad de levantarse para seguir trabajando y hacernos más  fuertes. Cara a cara vi la fuerza de la unidad, del trabajo colaborativo y de la importancia que  tiene el poder informar a la gente para que ellos mismos sepan qué hacer. Cara a cara vi el dolor  en las caras de las personas por no tener los recursos necesarios cuando tenían la pérdida de  más de un familiar por COVID 19 y aparte del cambio traumático para la familia tenían que lidiar  con el problema de donde buscar dinero para mandar los cuerpos a sus lugares de origen.  Conozco mujeres que quedaron solas con sus hijos, padres que ahora se enfrentan a la vida sin  sus esposas para educar a sus hijos y lo mas triste hijos que se quedaron sin ambos padres  enfrentando la vida con algún otro familiar que de ninguna manera llenaran los vacíos en sus  corazones. 

Respeto el dolor y las experiencias diferentes que la gente tiene sobre los tiempos de la  pandemia, respeto los duelos y las pérdidas pero tengo que reconocer que estoy en el lugar  donde estoy por la necesidad de la comunidad de tener información, de saber a dónde acudir.  Agradezco la oportunidad de aprender de cada una de las personas que apoyamos, cada  persona aporta sabiduría a mi vida, la riqueza del conocimiento de la comunidad es inmensa y  agradezco la oportunidad que me brindan en cada plática de poder aprender. El compartir siempre enriquece, y tengo la gran fortuna de ser parte de una comunidad resiliente, unida y  con mucho amor para compartir.

Written Story by Evy

Mi experiencia con COVID-19

Muchos fuimos los afectados por la pandemia de Covid-19 pero en esta ocasión quiero contar mi  experiencia personal, al principio cuando se dio a conocer que la enfermedad era considerada  como pandemia mundial yo no creía que estuviéramos viviendo algo de esa magnitud, pensé que  solo era desinformación por parte de los medios de comunicación y las redes sociales, se decía  que ya había muchas personas enfermas pero como pasaban los días, quizá los meses y ni yo ni  mi familia nos contagiábamos seguía creyendo que era solo una mentira, pero al pasar de algunos  meses me contagié, comencé con síntomas y me rehusaba a creer que había llegado el COVID 19 a mi familia, pasaron algunos días y mi esposo y mis hijos comenzaron también con síntomas,  acudimos a hacernos la prueba y salimos positivos, ahí sentí que el mundo se me venía abajo,  creí que solo íbamos a presentar síntomas leves pero no fue así, mi esposo y yo presentamos  síntomas graves, al grado de no poder atender a nuestros hijos, tuvimos que dejar de trabajar y al  ser indocumentados no recibíamos ningún apoyo de gobierno, no tenemos familiares cerca que  nos pudieran ayudar a comprar medicamentos o comida, no podíamos salir porque sabíamos que  poníamos en riesgo a las demás personas y a pesar de que aparentemente nos encontrábamos  solos la ayuda empezó a llegar por parte de amigos y vecinos, al darse cuenta de que estábamos  enfermos nos empezaron a llevar comida y medicamentos con la única finalidad de ayudarnos,  ahí fue donde nos dimos cuenta que en realidad nunca hemos estado solos, que aunque no  contemos con familia de sangre por estar en un país que no es el nuestro, tenemos amigos que se  han convertido en familia y que nunca nos dejarán solos y están siempre para apoyarnos.  

Creo que muchas personas al igual que yo al principio estaban incrédulas de lo que era el  COVID-19 y de lo que nos esperaba por no saber qué era lo que teníamos que hacer para evitar  enfermarnos pero era por la desinformación que circulaba en redes sociales, por eso considero  de gran importancia el hecho de investigar las cosas antes de dar una opinión de cosas que no  sabemos, en mi caso puedo decir que tanto yo como mi familia pudimos sobrevivir a la  pandemia y que aparentemente quedamos sin secuelas, suerte con la que no corrieron muchas  más personas ya que hubo un gran número de fallecimientos y de igual manera muchas  personas que sobrevivieron quedaron con secuelas graves, por lo que debemos aprender que  no todos corrimos con la suerte de saber que se nos está dando una segunda oportunidad para  cambiar las cosas que estamos haciendo mal, la pandemia nos está dejando un aprendizaje de  diferentes formas a todas las personas, por lo que debemos hacer un análisis personal y  entender con qué finalidad estamos cada uno de nosotros en este planeta y los que  sobrevivimos, agradecer que seguimos con vida

Written Story by Angel CC

¿Qué aprendió sobre sí mismo gracias a la pandemia?

En marzo de 2020, nos enfrentamos a uno de los retos mas aterradores en la historia reciente de la humanidad. Los científicos del mundo descubrieron un nuevo virus identificado como COVID-19. Este inesperado, pero predecible evento, resulto ser una pandemia moderna que cambio de la noche a la mañana las todas las actividades humanas. Este virus al ser de rápida propagación hizo que los gobiernos tomaran decisiones para evitar contagios masivos. Pasamos de tener una vida normal a una vida confinada. 

Como con la mayoría de la población, la pandemia tuvo un impacto significativo en mí. Soy un estudiante internacional en la ciudad de Portland, Oregon en los Estados Unidos. Antes de la pandemia, tenia un trabajo el cual tuve que dejar por el confinamiento. Al principio parecía que íbamos a estar resguardados en casa durante dos o tres semanas. Al principio la idea parecía emocionante ya que serían unas minivacaciones. Pero el confinamiento se extendió y los problemas comenzaron. Al no haber trabajo, el dinero comenzó a escasear. Los días de estarse cuidando de la enfermedad, se turnaron en días de mucha incertidumbre. Las visitas a los bancos de comida se hacían cada vez más frecuentes, así como el buscar apoyos para pagar la renta y los servicios. 

De repente, una gran parte de nuestras actividades se turnaron en virtuales gracias a las tecnologías de la información que tomaron una gran fuerza. Pase de ser una persona con mucha timidez a hablar frente a una cámara, a tener reuniones tres o mas veces durante el día. Zoom, Google Meets y otras aplicaciones de video, se convirtieron en nuestras app favoritas o mas utilizadas por la naturaleza del trabajo y los estudios. 

Al pasar de los meses y con el numero de enfermedades en aumento, el encierro continuaba. Es aquí cuando comenzaron a llegar poco a poco las oportunidades que me dejaron las mayores enseñanzas durante la pandemia. Recibí una invitación del gobierno local de mi ciudad natal, para exponer mi experiencia como estudiante internacional en los Estados Unidos. La temática de la plática se llamó “Si tienes un sueño no te duermas.” El gobierno de la ciudad de Oaxaca, Oaxaca, México, invitó a un grupo de jóvenes que estaban estudiando o se habían graduado en otros países en el extranjero. Este tipo de plática motivacional fue el parteaguas de mis actividades como voluntario con la comunidad. Después de esta plática, llegaron otras invitaciones para participar con organizaciones sin fines de lucro, universidades e instituciones de gobierno en México y los Estados Unidos. Llego también la oportunidad de participar como coautor de un capítulo de libro. Igualmente, tuve la oportunidad de participar como ponente en congresos nacionales e internacionales. 

A la fecha, he logrado participar como ponente en lugares tan remotos como Perú. Todo esto ha sido posible a la magia de la tecnología y lo que la pandemia nos vino a enseñar que debemos tener capacidad de adaptación y evolución. La pandemia nos vino a ensenar también que únicamente tenemos un solo hogar y que este nos provee todo lo que necesitamos. Si no aprendimos la lección, nuevas pandemias vendrán ya que nuestro estilo de vida y de alimentación esta cambiando al planeta. En lo personal, yo me siento mas humilde y trato de vivir una vida con lo necesario. Trato de alimentarme mejor directamente de los alimentos de la tierra. Trato de reducir lo que tiro y lo que reciclo. Trato de ayudar al prójimo en lo que puedo sin esperar nada a cambio. A pesar de haber perdido a seres queridos, estoy feliz de vivir en esta época. La pandemia fue una gran maestra. Tenemos que vivir nuestra vida al máximo buscando ser felices siendo humildes. Habrá gente que quiera descalificar la pandemia pero no es así. El covid-19 va a estar con nosotros como muchas otras enfermedades. Lo mejor que podemos hacer es aprender a reforzar nuestro sistema inmune de manera natural. Nuestra madre tierra no nos necesita, pero nosotros no podemos vivir sin ella. Amor y luz para todos y todas. 

Audio Story by Riziki

English Translation

We did not know where this disease came from. We never knew if we would die or not. People became afraid, not knowing what was going on. That is the way it was. We as a family could not travel because everything was closed. This meant coming to the United States would not be possible because all the trips from the camps where we were in Africa, in a country called Tanzania, were stopped and all facilities were closed.

Other people and I really got scared, not knowing what is the way forward and where things even stood. It was a very confusing moment that we have never experienced. One thing I do remember is that when things kind of calmed down a bit, people were able to travel and life seemed to have some meaning. But still, we were not sure that traveling to the United States was okay.

We were afraid that we were either going to die or live, but we thank God for everything. If we never had faith in Him we would not be here today. We thank the government for all the hard work they have done in taking care of this disease in terms of us having vaccinations.

This disease made the whole world afraid. Things really changed like schools being closed, stores being closed, even churches were closed. At this point we never knew what to expect. We also never knew if we were going to come back again because people died, people got sick, to an extent that we have never seen. We had some people who died not because they were sick but because they lost loved ones. This caused unnecessary heartache and pressure to lose a loved one

The thing that was very interesting is that when I was given the vaccine, even at that time my five-year-old also had to get a vaccine. At that point I knew that this was a life saving moment for all of us.

And again, I thank God because I know He is on our side and the government as well, we thank them for everything they have done for us.

Swahili Transcription

Hatukujua ugonjwa huu ulitoka wapi. Hatukujua kamwe kama tutakufa au la. Watu wakaingiwa na hofu wasijue nini kinaendelea. Hivyo ndivyo ilivyokuwa. Sisi kama familia hatukuweza kusafiri kwa sababu kila kitu kilikuwa kimefungwa. Hii ilimaanisha kuja Marekani isingewezekana kwa sababu safari zote za kambi tulizokuwa Afrika, katika nchi inayoitwa Tanzania, zilisimamishwa na vifaa vyote vimefungwa.

Mimi na watu wengine tuliogopa sana, bila kujua ni njia gani ya kusonga mbele na mambo yalisimama wapi. Ilikuwa wakati wa kutatanisha sana ambao hatujawahi kupata. Jambo moja ninalokumbuka ni kwamba mambo yalipotulia kidogo, watu waliweza kusafiri na maisha yalionekana kuwa na maana fulani. Lakini bado, hatukuwa na uhakika kwamba kusafiri kwenda Marekani kulikuwa sawa.

Tuliogopa kwamba tutakufa au kuishi, lakini tunamshukuru Mungu kwa kila jambo. Kama hatungekuwa na imani Kwake tusingekuwa hapa leo. Tunaishukuru serikali kwa kazi kubwa waliyoifanya katika kutunza ugonjwa huu kwa sisi kupata chanjo.

Ugonjwa huu ulitia hofu dunia nzima. Mambo yalibadilika kweli kama shule kufungwa, maduka kufungwa, hata makanisa yalifungwa. Kwa wakati huu hatukujua la kutarajia. Pia hatukujua kama tungerudi tena kwa sababu watu waliokufa, watu waliugua, kwa kiwango ambacho sijawahi kuona. Tulikuwa na baadhi ya watu ambao walikufa si kwa sababu walikuwa wagonjwa bali kwa sababu waliopoteza wapendwa wao. Hilo lilisababisha maumivu ya moyo yasiyo ya lazima na shinikizo la kumpoteza mpendwa.

Jambo lililokuwa la kufurahisha sana ni kwamba nilipopewa chanjo, hata wakati huo mtoto wangu wa miaka mitano pia alilazimika kupata chanjo. Wakati huo nilijua kuwa huu ulikuwa wakati wa kuokoa maisha kwa sisi sote.

Na tena, namshukuru Mungu kwa sababu najua yuko upande wetu na serikali pia, tunawashukuru kwa yote waliyotufanyia.