Metered taxi drivers pose for a photograph outside the International arrivals at OR Tambo Airports Company South Africa (ACSA) in Johannesburg increase measures to detect symptoms of coronavirus from passengers who travel through all its airports, 6 March 2019. Picture: Nigel Sibanda
I don’t know about you, dear reader, but the Lotriet family is ill-prepared for the coronavirus.
Of course, the lovely Snapdragon knows everything about the threat. That and anything else. I don’t even need Google.
“I have to – I work in the health industry,” she told me.
“Disease industry,” I corrected her. “You guys make your money out of sickness, not health.”
“Speaking of sickness and health…” she had those threateningly thin lips. “I vowed to love you in both, but I didn’t say anything about loving you when you’re an idiot.”
“We should get masks. I want a Hulk one,” I changed the topic. “You can have a witch mask. Nobody will notice the difference.”
“Don’t be stupid,” Snapdragon snapped. “Masks don’t protect you against the coronavirus.”
Which is sad. With our love for crime, we are used to wearing masks. Not so much this weird hand-washing thing.
But the virus is here and we’ll have to get used to it. Not that we had much of a chance to keep it out. We can’t even keep the Guptas out and they’re much bigger and more recognisable.
“According to my calculations, our little dysfunctional family will probably get the virus,” I told the love of my life.
“We’re bound to – we’ll never get the three-year-old Egg to wash her hands. It’s an achievement just to get her in the bath every evening.”
“Probably,” Snapdragon replied.
“I think we’ll survive it. Every day is a roll of the dice, but it’s not that deadly.”
“Most of us will live,” she said. “But you’re older. And you have hypertension. I must remember to buy a sexy black outfit and a fascinator for the funeral before they force all the shops to close like they did in Italy.”
“What’s a fascinator?” I asked.
“It’s a headdress,” she said and showed me a picture on her phone.
I must say, she’ll look beautiful in it. But it’s not exactly something to die for.
Yesterday, the fascinator still bothered me. I think I’ll begin to avoid people for the next month or two. And I’ll wash my hands often. Hell, I’ll even hum Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star to make sure I wash for the full 20 seconds.
And just to be sure, I’ll buy that Hulk mask tomorrow.
But probably not from our local China Mall.
Dirk Lotriet.
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