‘Who don’t hear will feel effects of covid19’

Bare streets in one of the main shoping zones in East Germany. -
Bare streets in one of the main shoping zones in East Germany. -

GUYANNE WILSON

Rüttenscheid is an affluent neighbourhood in Essen, North Rhine Westphalia (NRW), Germany. Many of the people who live here are lawyers, university lecturers, doctors, and pharmacists, by and large employed at the university hospital, which is the city’s testing centre for covid19.

Many people have been exposed to the virus, even if they remain uninfected. Indeed, it’s easy to be exposed to coronavirus in NRW. It’s the most populous and densely populated state in Germany, and with nearly 5,800 cases on March 23, the state with by far the most infected people in the entire country.

The state government has reacted responsibly; schools, kindergartens and universities have all been shut down. Emergency childcare has been made available for the children of medical professionals. Entrusting the care of children to grandparents has been strongly discouraged, and senior citizens’ residences have closed their doors to all visitors.

The message is clear: stay home.

It is 5pm on Friday. Usually, the Rü, Rüttenscheid’s fashionable high street, is teeming with shoppers. But now all the shops are shut, their windows advertising their government-mandated closure: “Dear customers, due to the Coronavirus, we are closed. Stay healthy.”

Essen dubs itself the shopping city, but the city centre, like the Rü, is overcome with a stillness much like that of Christmas morning, without the decorations and festive chill. On Friday, restaurants are still allowed to be open for pick-up and delivery, though dining was forbidden. But delivery drivers sit slumped across their motorbikes outside. People collecting food are asked to keep two metres apart. Or would be asked. No one is collecting food.

Two days later, restaurants join the list of places closed by the government.

Unlike Spain, Belgium, Italy, and even the southern German state of Bavaria, NRW and other German states haven’t implemented a complete lockdown. Instead, German Chancellor Angela Merkel, in a series of moving and inspiring addresses to the nation, appealed to people’s sense of solidarity.

In a country in which freedom and democracy came at a high cost, the government is not wont to limit people’s right to movement. Instead, Merkel has beseeched Germans to exercise consideration and caution.

Nevertheless, the government has effected quite drastic measures, the so-called Kontaktverbot (contact ban), which places limits on the amount of contact individuals can have with one another.

In press conferences, government officials consistently stress the importance of fresh air and exercise for both physical and mental health. Somewhat paradoxically, though, playgrounds have been cordoned off, and so the spring sunshine warms empty swings and slides. The well-tended grass on football fields is left to grow, since sport clubs are no longer allowed to meet, and gyms are closed.

The Gruga Park, Essen’s favourite spot for families, joggers, and botanists, is locked, but the woods surrounding Europe’s 2017 Green capital remain accessible. If you go down in the woods, though, you’ll find them mostly empty.

Few passengers at the usually crowded Essen main station at peak hour. -

People not living in the same household are only allowed to meet in groups of two (formerly known as pairs). Families living in the same household are allowed outdoors together.

Hairdressers, massage parlours and brothels (prostitution is legal in Germany) are closed. All church services have been suspended, though the Essen cathedral remains open for personal prayer.

The faithful are responsible, though, and when I visit the cathedral on Monday, there are only two other people there, seated so far apart that one wonders what comfort they received from this gathering.

I light a candle at the statue of St Roch, one of the patron saints of plagues, along with St Corona (true story). We need all the help we can get. At 7 pm each day, the church bells throughout Essen toll, and everyone is invited to place a candle in their window and pray the Our Father.

With many businesses closed (including the BMW factory), and employees working from home, public transport has been reduced. People have been asked to assess whether their journey is necessary. On buses, commuters are no longer allowed to enter through the front door, to protect the drivers, and a barrier separates drivers and passengers. Passengers sit as far apart as possible.

Before corona, Essen Main Station was used by 170, 000 visitors daily. At nearly 4 pm on the Monday following the Kontaktverbot, the station is nearly empty.

Supermarkets, pharmacies and bakeries are allowed to operate, but it’s hardly business as usual. Chancellor Merkel, whom Germans affectionately call “Mutti” (Mummy), has reprimanded the tendency towards hoarding.

“Stockpiling,” she says in her speech, “is selfish.”

Besides, she reassured the community, there is no need to hoard. There is no shortage of food and other essentials.

But at the start of the crisis, the supermarket shelves are bare. Staples such as rice, potatoes and pasta are sold out – except for the expensive Italian brand, which eventually sells to non-bigots intelligent enough to realise that the virus can’t spread through vermicelli. (Xenophobia isn’t limited to food. At the train station, I see three teenage boys shout “Corona, corona, corona!” at two Chinese men.)

Bread and flour are also sold out, but when I try to take a photo of the empty shelves, the supermarket security confronts me and I am made to delete the photo from my phone. Toilet paper is sold out, and in the pharmacies, disinfectants and soaps are tightly rationed.

Entry into shops is tightly regulated. Potential shoppers must wait outside the door, standing at least 1.5 metres apart at clearly demarcated points. The number of shoppers allowed in at any one time differs by store, but security guards – a new addition to the shopping landscape – only grant entry when another shopper has left. At the checkout counter, cashiers are protected from germs by makeshift shields, or by boxes which prevent customers from coming too close. Customers are encouraged to pay with card or contactless, a major change in a country where everyone pays for everything with cash.

Not everyone sticks to the rules. The young believe themselves immortal, and meet in large groups in the few public spaces still open, or else throw corona parties. Their actions have been publicly condemned as Dummheit (stupidity) by German politicians and they have been labelled idiots by others.

Such language doesn’t work well with young people in times of stability, and, as the young people’s persistence has shown, doesn’t augur well in times of crisis, either.

But children who can’t hear will feel: the police have been called in to break up gatherings and fines implemented. In the news, stories of young people, people who don’t belong to high-risk groups and who have died from the disease, are featured. A worthy scare tactic.

There are signs of hope. Although the number of infected people is currently around 28,000, only 118 people have died as a result of the disease (compared with 335 deaths in the UK, 500 in the US, 3,274 in China and over 6,000 in Italy), and the most recent numbers suggest the rate of infection may be slowing down. It seems staying at home might be working.

In spite, or perhaps because, of the physical distances the Kontaktverbot has brought about, people have drawn closer together. Outside the supermarkets, there are signs from volunteers offering to do shopping, collect medications, and walk dogs for members of high-risk groups.

On Sunday evening, musicians across Germany co-ordinated to play Beethoven’s Ode to Joy at 6 pm from their windows and balconies, and, as the lone musician on my street, I was pleased to bring some joy to the one family out and about at that time.

Neighbours check in on each other in ways they hadn’t before. My neighbours brought me a pot of their home-made chocolate pudding, leaving it at my door, and receiving thanks through the window. No one knows how much longer we’ll have to hold out until a vaccine is found or herd immunity develops on a global scale.

In the meantime, Esseners continue to heed Angela Merkel’s cries for solidarity. In solitude.

Guyanne Wilson is a lecturer and researcher in English linguistics at the Ruhr University Bochum.

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