I have not been able to get this tweet out of my head since I saw it last week.

I’d been struggling to pin down exactly what I’d been feeling and why, wondering if it was another case of the “pandemic wall” (into which I’ve run face-first multiple times during this ordeal), or whether even this notorious introvert had finally begun to crack under the strain of an ongoing national State of Emergency on top of the general grinding experience of life in a pandemic.

I was running out of ways to present a cautiously optimistic picture for my daughter, given that she’d spent the last 18-ish months watching as adults actively prolonged the situation by, at best, choosing short-term gratification over common sense and, at worse, politicising public health policies despite the fact that lives hang in the balance and with disastrous results.

Then I saw that tweet and everything clicked into place.

Way back when the majority of world leaders insisted on discussing pandemic plans in increments of weeks and the idea that schools in T&T might possibly resume in-person classes in September of 2020 was being seriously discussed, I knew that we were in this for the long haul. I understood why leaders refused to be pressured into confirming mid-to-long-term plans; in such a fluid situation, anything and everything they said would be held against them.

As an individual though, I couldn’t see how a virus that spread as quickly as this one and killed or seriously sickened so many would be cleared up in a hurry, even if vaccines were “right around the corner“. Anyone paying close attention could see that, even if we got safe vaccines in a hurry, the logistics of getting enough people vaccinated to end the pandemic would take more time than most people (and organisations) wanted to contemplate.

So I braced myself and prepped my daughter and I settled us into our own little state of pandemic ‘normalcy’. I worried about the effects this would have on her in the long term, but we both understood that we had to do what was necessary until we (the collective We) could do better.

Then the vaccines were approved and it felt like We could finally begin doing better.

Instead, We hoarded the vaccines and then refused to take them even as We continued refusing to wear masks and socially-distance. We are currently living in a world where people are actually asserting their perceived right to refuse the vaccines AND live their pre-pandemic best lives even as millions of doses of the same hoarded vaccines expire. This despite the fact that experts have warned that this is exactly the kind of behaviour that makes it easier for the virus to mutate and land us all back at square one; locked down and hoping for a new set of vaccines to fight a virus that has evolved to bypass the existing vaccines.

We have also consistently failed to make sure that the people who are most vulnerable to the devastating effects of the virus (and who have every reason to distrust the medical establishment) due to continuing failures in health equity have the access and information they need to make the best choices for themselves and their loved ones. (Which, btw, is why I’ll never fault any member of the African diaspora for any skepticism, though I will always encourage seeking answers to one’s questions instead of simply running with the rampant misinformation.)

THIS is the reason for the fatigue. It’s why I feel less hopeful now than I did this time last year when there were so many more unknowns. It’s why I’m more concerned than ever for my daughter who can neither be vaccinated nor spend much-needed time with folks who aren’t me, particularly now that delta is finally (officially) here.

Instead of banding together and doing what we’ve done before to eradicate life-threatening illnesses worldwide, we’ve resorted to an “every man for himself” individualistic/nationalistic approach that seems to be driving us right back towards March 2020, even as 2022 is mere months away.

It’s one thing to be caught in a terrifying global scenario and understand the need to hold strain until things get better. It’s another thing entirely to sit and watch as other people’s (thoughtless at best, selfish at worst) actions extend everyone’s suffering nearly two years later. Even as the tools to improve everyone’s circumstances are right there.

I’m not sure how to put a positive spin on that for myself, let alone my kid.

But we press on.

Despite the pandemic fatigue.