The opening of 2020 found me in London, on a shopping spree. Of, course I was not shopping for myself. There is an odd expectation, that when one stays or travels to the west, they ought to return with gifts and other items for their loved ones back home. While that is a genuine gesture of fondness, this notion glorifies western products in an unusual way. It certainly wasn’t the same expectation when I traveled within East Africa.

There I was in the middle of Oxford Street- seemingly small in the midst of tall buildings filled with stores of almost every identifiable brand. Crowded with people, shoulder to shoulder. I carried three paper bags filled clothes, colognes, shoes, bottles and books. I had succumbed to society’s, or rather my family’s expectations.

As I walked back to my residence, the warm street lights glistened upon my face. I was shaking under the piles of wool that laced my jacket, because of the gloomy winter. This was my last stroll under those skies as Uganda beckoned. I hadn’t seen my family (at least not physically since 2018). My biggest relief however, was that I had bought something for everyone- even if I was to find a random unannounced visitor at home, I had  purchased  extra ‘cheap’ accessories as insurance.  2019 had been a great year, I had finished a master’s degree from the University of Oxford and had worked with an international law firm in London! Therefore, when 2020 began I was excited to go to Kampala, to see the year that lay ahead.

After checking in my luggage, I bid farewell, to Jonathan, who hosted me in London and had been kind enough to drive me to Heathrow International Airport. I held my luggage in the departure lounge staring up ahead at the flight display board. The lounge was heavy with thoughts that lingered in everyone’s head, creating a sense of isolation. Even though we were many, each one on their own paths. I was about to journey across oceans, from one continent to another. Change and adjustment are pillars in the structure of life.

Finally, my flight no EK004 flickered on the departure board signaling, ‘boarding.’ I picked up my hand bag and began to move to the gate.  My phone lit up with a green notification. A long-term family friend had sent me a WhatsApp message.  ‘Safe travels, hope Iran doesn’t shoot down your plane.’  This made me unusually tense and reinforced my fears about air travel. This anxiety gave me an insight (prophetically I guess) into what 2020 might offer. We arrived safely at Entebbe and I was greeted by the warmth and love of family, who were relieved to hug me for the first time since 2018. But just as the New year had begun, the Corona virus had taken bigger strides. As I had just settled in Kampala, the Government announced a total lock down with restricted movements that forced me to rethink my own priorities. I had just left a gruesome winter only to find a darker winter in the COVID-19 pandemic.

From weeks in quarantine, this year has taught me the importance of companionship and family. I have reconsidered the core reasons why I exist. We have struggled to breathe this year, had to adjust to wearing masks all the time. I needed to find peace, meaning and contentment. With lost relatives, friends and differed opportunities for international experience. It had begun looking grim. I used most of the time to dance, write and read. This was my own way of coping. It led me to reflect deeply on John Donne’s 400-year-old words, ‘No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main.’  Isolation taught me many lessons. When you spend time alone, you are forced to introspect about what really matters. A close relative got COVID-19, the possibility of losing them haunted me. It made me contemplate about the significance of the bonds we create with in our communities