Karen King is a Morgantown resident who is instrumental in the annual Community Thanksgiving Dinner at Wesley United Methodist Church.
By Karen King
Newsroom@DominionPost.com
COLOMBIA, South America — It was to be a three-month visit. I would be celebrating my grandson’s 10th birthday and spending Christmas with my son for the first time in over 16 years.
My son Jarod worked for Google, first in California and then in Colombia, where he moved in 2013. His entire team was laid off last December.
His remains in Neiva, Colombia, with his children, Simon, 10, and Sarah, 6.
Over the last few years, I had become familiar with the specific issues associated with my flight into Colombia, South America. A six-hour flight from Pittsburgh to Bogota, plus an additional one-hour flight to Neiva, was no longer stressful or frightening.
Plus, my son always requested an aisle seat and wheelchair for me, thus helping me deal with my asthma and claustrophobic issues.
Flying into Bogota is almost overwhelming. The haunting beauty and starkness of the Andes Mountains, the intriguing and unusual cloud formations, the gorgeous and lush farm lands and the hundreds of green houses which, incidentally, provide at least 70% of flowers sold in the United States, give the impression of calmness, peacefulness, fruitfulness and prosperity in Colombia.
That image is deceiving.
Colombia is a socialist country, which means in this instance, that national, department (state) and city governments can make arbitrary decisions and citizens cannot or will not protest or complain. Citizens may want to, but have learned that no one in the government would even listen to them.
It is clear that good customer service is not usually practiced by business or government entities. The public disinterest and the government indifference have always disheartened me.
Nothing illustrates this relationship more than the government’s reaction and continuous response to the COVID-19 virus once it appeared in Colombia.
Immediately, the national government closed the borders and airports throughout the country. No coming in. No going out. Interior travel was also prohibited within the country but some individuals tried to leave the bigger cities and rush to their families in rural areas.
Small towns and communities situated along the main highways responded by blocking access and closing their own borders to travelers.
For weeks, no one was allowed to be outside their homes. An absolute quarantine was established and enforced. For instance, if anyone was out and stopped by the police, their vehicle or motorcycle would be impounded and a fine would be imposed.
Restaurants, small businesses, malls, grocery stores, law offices, banks, churches, as well as all government offices, were closed. The military and local police patrolled the streets and cited or arrested individuals who were assembling in neighborhoods.
Some weeks later, some restrictions were eased. One person from each household was allowed to visit a grocery store either on a morning or an afternoon (5-hour time period), one day per week. Permission was granted based on the last two digits of the national identity card. Stores were required to check all cards and refuse admittance to anyone not scheduled for that day.
Private and public schools were officially closed until on-line classes could be developed. Children and seniors over 70 years old were prohibited from going anywhere outside their homes or gated communities. A 7 a.m.-6 p.m. curfew was established and enforced.
A few weeks later, restrictions were eased but quarantines were still imposed on children and senior citizens.
An individual now had two days per week to run errands and buy groceries. For the sake of “sanity and well-being” people were permitted to walk, run or ride bikes within a specific area and time period.
But, since the guidelines are constantly changing, they have become unenforceable.
Restaurants could not open for seated customers but were allowed to prepare take-out and delivery meals.
Grocery stores and pharmacies began making deliveries. Medical and dental offices, banks and law offices could open.
The curfew was still in effect.
As a result of these measures, the number of national positive cases was less than 10,000. The department (state) of Huila (in which Neiva is located) reported about 250 positive cases. Those numbers could be skewed because tests are not free and the poor or newly unemployed cannot afford the cost of the test.
A few days ago, some restrictions were reinstated because of a positive virus uptick in some areas.
Huila now has over 500 positive cases and no one is permitted to be out between 9 p.m.-5 a.m.
No alcohol can be served, purchased or sold until after July 31.
This nationwide increase of positive cases means that patient intensive care beds throughout the country are close to full capacity; in fact, Bogota has 1,300 intensive care beds and 1,100 beds are occupied.
Colombia is a strikingly beautiful country and the people I have come to know are warm, friendly, kind and very hospitable. But the beauty of the country and the acceptance of the people cannot hide the appalling, blatant and devastating poverty or the pervasive and deeply entrenched government presence.
After almost eight months, I am still in Neiva. Neither the children nor I can go outside the housing complex. It is frustrating sometimes but I can still read, make doll clothes and furniture, bake cookies, pepperoni rolls and biscuits and generally introduce my grandchildren to the United States and West Virginia culture.
All four of us are American citizens but we certainly feel like hostages. Our family is safe and healthy and while I am very homesick, I am probably safer here than I would be in Morgantown.
I constantly read about individuals complaining about their loss of freedom for being forced to wear a mask or having to watch church services online. I do not know if I am violating my Christian beliefs and values, but after living through this experience in a socialist country, I cannot seem to find within myself any compassion, understanding or sympathy for them. Yes, the Colombian restrictions continue to be uncomfortable, disheartening, discouraging and arbitrary, but I am alive. And, that feels darn good.
