Twice a week now, for 14 months, I’ve joined a 40-minute Zoom call with my extended family. In that time, I’ve moved between Uganda, Ethiopia and Sierra Leone, while they have stayed put in Ireland, largely under lockdown.
In session after session, they have listened, likely with some envy, as I’ve bashfully told them about my social plans for that week: team sports, group dinners, or a trip with friends.
At the beginning of the coronavirus pandemic, prospects looked grim for the African continent. In April 2020, the United Nations Economic Commission for Africa said anywhere between 300,000 and 3.3 million Africans could lose their lives as a direct result of Covid-19.
It may never be clear why so many African countries were left relatively unscathed by the spread of Covid-19 itself
The World Health Organisation said as many as 44 million could be infected within a year, if containment measures failed. In an interview with The Irish Times last May, Dr Dorian Job, West Africa programme manager for Médecins Sans Frontières, said the medical charity was preparing for a "mass casualty" situation in Sierra Leone, where I now am. Instead, there have been little over 4,100 registered coronavirus cases and just 79 confirmed deaths here.
Life in much of Africa has continued almost as normal. Markets are packed, restaurants are open, bars are full.
That's not to say that there haven't been serious consequences. Economically, the pandemic has been devastating. Early lockdowns brought financial ruin for petty traders and slow starvation for people who lived hand-to-mouth, while 250 million children were affected by school closures. There has been a documented rise in police brutality and exploitation, and problems accessing healthcare for those with other illnesses.
Unscathed
It may never be clear why so many African countries were left relatively unscathed by the spread of Covid-19 itself. Ideas floated by scientists included young populations, low viral loads because of the amount of time people spend outside, and immunity caused by past experience with other diseases.
Unlike in Europe, a lot of African countries acted before they registered any cases, with the majority shutting their borders in the early stages of the pandemic. Uganda closed its international airport for more than six months; Kenya and Rwanda shut theirs for four.
Even when they reopened, everywhere I’ve travelled on the continent has required a negative PCR test taken before departure, which you show during transit and upon arrival in the new country.
<a href="https://www.telegraph.co.uk/global-health/science-and-disease/malaria-set-kill-people-year-covid-19-sub-saharan-africa-experts/">other diseases continue to kill</a> in greater numbers, but don't generate the same headlines
To enter Sierra Leone, in February, I needed a certificate from a negative PCR test done within a week of boarding the flight there. Upon arrival, I went through another PCR test in the airport, as well as a rapid diagnostic blood test, which gave a negative within 15 minutes, allowing me to continue on to my accommodation and wait for the second result.
Whenever I tell Irish people how relatively free life has been, they are surprised. They always assume everything will be worse here – a West-centric belief that stops us from understanding the varied impact this pandemic has had on the world.
Africa has a population of 1.3 billion people. There have now been 4.7 million coronavirus cases registered and less than 128,000 deaths – a small fraction of the global toll. Of those figures, nearly 1.6 million cases and almost half the deaths were in South Africa. All along, there have been concerns about the level of testing, though it's clear that most countries haven't had the same explosion of cases seen in Europe and the US.
Downsides
There are downsides to the low numbers of confirmed cases, such as slow uptake of vaccines by locals sceptical about the severity of Covid-19, who see the injections as unnecessary or even dangerous. Many still believe it is a European disease that predominantly affects white people.
Even as developing countries struggle to get enough vaccines to cover a significant portion of their populations, this week, Malawi destroyed nearly 20,000 Oxford-AstraZeneca doses it wasn't able to administer before they expired. South Sudan plans to destroy nearly 60,000. Last month in Sierra Leone, health minister Dr Austin Demby warned that one-third of vaccines might go out of date unused.
When it comes to understanding the coronavirus pandemic, it’s worth noting that the early predictions of what might happen in most of Africa haven’t so far come true. As I write this in Freetown, I can see teenagers playing football on the beach; friends sharing lunch; locals passing by crammed into cars or tuk-tuks.
Instead, other diseases continue to kill in greater numbers, but don't generate the same headlines. Two weeks ago, I met a nurse who works in a children's hospital in eastern Freetown. She told me that 20 per cent of admissions die, mostly from preventable illnesses such as malaria, or from malnutrition or even diarrhoea. In Sierra Leone, one in ten 10 children die before their fifth birthday. On the rare days that everyone survives, medics applaud at their staff meeting.
As is the case in much of Africa, there are still greater concerns than coronavirus.