Imagine driving up to the Jinnah International Airport, Karachi and finding it completely empty… You would laugh at me, if I suggested such a possibility two years ago, right? Well, not any more. COVID-19 has changed a lot of things around the world and travelling surely is among them.
In April, as international travel restrictions were gradually lifted, I was getting ready for visiting my mother in Europe. Anxious about the virus looming at me from every nook and worried about the new procedures to undergo for the sake of Covid SOPs, I realized that travel in the time of pandemic will be a unique experience – something to tell my grandkids about some day. I underwent a Covid test in Karachi, booked another one at the airport upon arrival to Latvia, filled out an online Covid pass required by Riga International Airport, and ‘armed’ myself with a packet of face-masks and sanitizers. I was finally all set for the travelling.
Completely empty was exactly how I found Jinnah International Airport, as my flight was the only outbound one that morning. Having faced for a week the news of other flights being cancelled, I felt somewhat privileged to be flying. Luggage control was a breeze, as was checking in. No lines at passport control and even no usual body checks by female staff in cabins. So far all good and neat, although I have to admit that the vast empty expanses of the airport seemed somewhat surreal and just not right – as if I had stepped into some sci-fi movie.
Turkish airlines staff warmly welcomed us aboard of their half empty flight. Passengers were spaced out and throughout the journey the flight attendants constantly reminded us to keep our masks on. As expected, the traveller’s kit this time contained also a personalized hand sanitizer and extra wet napkins for Covid SOPs compliance.
In contrast to Karachi, Istanbul International Airport buzzed with life. Only face-masks reminded one about the presence of the pandemic, as otherwise the place was as busy and business-like as usual. However, here my own mind played out pranks on me – amidst all the masses of people, I sensed endless dangers of contracting the virus. I was avoiding any possible contact with people and surfaces and kept on sanitizing not only hands but also the table, where I sat for lunch. At that moment, I knew I was doing the right thing – safety matters the most. Now, however, when I look back at it, I find my anxiety somewhat excessive, as if was a prisoner of my own heightened perceptions. We live in a world constructed by our own subjective perceptions – whether we choose to be obsessed by the virus or just swim along with a carefree heart, Allah (swt) is in charge of whatever happens to us.
Arriving to Riga International Airport, I was back into the surreal reality – once again, we were the only flight landing. Here, however, the emptiness had a different air to it – more of a surveillance and tight discipline. Hi-sci atmosphere of Karachi airport was now replaced by George Orwell’s “the Big Brother is watching you” feeling. We were not allowed past a certain point, without having our Covid tests done. After the tests, we were escorted to a waiting room, where we had to sit, until we received SMS notifications with our Covid test results. The patrolling of airport police added to the tension of the atmosphere. Only upon showing the negative test result was I allowed to exit through the airport doors, albeit with the requirement of ten days’ self-isolation at home. Not all were as fortunate – a woman with a positive one broke down crying over the phone, trying to understand how to handle the situation.
As I sat in the airport waiting room and observed the other passengers in the same boat with me, I contemplated about this entire experience of pandemic. For me, as an individual, who values my personal freedoms, being restricted by my own government from the freedom of movement in my own country due to medical reasons gave me some serious food for thought, as all of this was happening with me being perfectly healthy. How far can the government (our Big Brother) exert its control over us?
The situation later in the same year was yet to unfold of ‘advised mandatory’ vaccinations for medical staff and teachers, and ‘not so mandatory ones’ for other public dealing professions (read: you can easily be replaced by a vaccinated person, if you do not comply). I witnessed indoor events that only the vaccinated can attend and outdoor events in segregated settings for the vaccinated and the unvaccinated. As I watched the local TV, a straightforward agenda of the ‘good’ vaccinated and the ‘bad’ unvaccinated was being served. Can we be sorted into good and bad based on the health choices we make for ourselves? Is it okay to lose your job because of your personal health choices? None of this sits well with me.
I pray that one day we will look back at this Covid pandemic as a nightmare-like experience that is now behind us. I hope that we will emerge from it stronger, wiser, and more determined to rely on Allah (swt) in times of uncertainty and difficulties.
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