Tsek 2020!
Is it possible that only a year ago most of us didn’t know the meaning of “lockdown” or “COVID” or “viral load”? Now of course we are all just short of a doctorate in virology and know better than any government or the WHO how to handle a pandemic.
This time of the year, dictionaries (or rather the people who work there) add one or two new words. Unsurprisingly, COVID-related words such as “social distancing” and “super spreader” were top of the list in 2020.
I’m no language expert, but I think they all missed the word that describes the global feeling to this year the best:
“TSEK!!”
For my overseas readers: please trust me that it doesn’t mean “This smell is enough to kill” (although nice try, people at Google).
Officially, it is a shortened version of the Afrikaans word “Voertsek”, which is, of course, used to chase animals (or perhaps your worst enemy) away.
However, every Capetonian worth their salt knows better…
“Tsek” encapsulates disdain, dismissal, and disgust (see what I did there?) in a way that no other word can, and thus, in my book, it is the perfect description of 2020.
I think there are few people in the world who can claim that this has not been a very trying year.
On a personal level, it felt like it was just one disaster after another. The year started well with my daughter’s wedding early in March. Then the wheels came off. My whole family got COVID - as did some of the overseas guests. We all isolated and on the day we were “freed” level 5 lockdown started.
Not to go into too much detail, but the rest of the year was filled with - amongst other things - difficult recoveries from COVID, a car accident, two-vehicle break-ins, flooding in my house (twice), food poisoning, the death of my favorite pet, a sick child, and a broken finger.
Of course, it wasn’t all bad. Thanks to lockdown, my son couldn’t return to Ireland after his sister’s wedding and so, the joy of joys (for me at least), he ended up living with me for 6 months.
Despite living on my street since 1995, I got to know my neighbours - for the first time really - as COVID necessitated a lot more support – albeit socially distanced. (I promised not to mention all the legal and illegal exchanges of merchandise!).
Of course, there was no FOMO (fear of missing out) because no one was doing anything. I read a lot more since I tired of watching the doom and gloom TV, which, in turn, led to a lot more reflection. I also spent a lot more time with my dogs, which they (and I) enjoyed enormously, and I became really good at Zoom and Teams meetings.
However, I will always remember 2020 as the year in which death was a constant companion. Behind every news report, every discussion around the pandemic, and every sore throat or headache lurked the fearful question: “Will I, or someone I love, become one of those who will not live to see another year?”
Sadly, for our family, the answer became “Yes” in June.
My dad died unexpectedly, although not from COVID. It was devastating for all of us. We achieved the near-impossible and had a small remembrance for him during level 5 lockdown.
Then the difficult journey of dealing with our grief started.
The thing about grief is that it breaks you open and makes you so much more sensitive to other’s pain. Now, when I watch the daily death rate from COVID on TV, my heart contracts even more than before with sadness for the families who are left behind. I often close my eyes and imagine my arms around them in the desperate hope that they will find some form of comfort.
I also think about the exhausted doctors and nurses who have had to stand with phones at the bedsides of dying patients so that their families could say goodbye.
I think about all the people who have worked endless hours at testing sites and in laboratories so that we could know if we were carrying the virus.
I think about the people in mortuaries and the funeral undertakers who put their lives at risk to take care of the remains of our loved ones.
So, as the clock ticks down to midnight tomorrow, perhaps you will join me in taking a few seconds to thank those who gave such selfless service to us all and to spare a moment to think of everyone who lost loved ones this year.
If you are one of them, then you might want to join me in a tearful whisper: “I miss you and wish you were here.”
But then, as we count down the end of this year, let us wipe our tears and shout as loudly as we can: “TSEK 2020!!!” because I’m sure that, like me, you’re glad to see the back of 2020.