My children and I have not been out in public since the Prime Minister of Jamaica, the Most Honorable Andrew Holness, mandated all schools on the island to close on the afternoon of Thursday, March 12, 2020.  I am not superstitious, but it was quite uncanny that the first day of home quarantine, because of COVID-19, was to be Friday the thirteenth.

Seven weeks later and we are continuously trying to find a permanent groove at home.  To be honest, we are not short of things to do, but the ever-changing circumstances around the world, including Jamaica, are distressing distractions to say the least.  These are the very motivations for abiding by the hashtag #TanAYuhYard (stay at home), but the biggest challenge, for the kids and for me, is learning to cooperate at all times, because we simply do not get a break from one another.

The husband/father does, however, get his reprieve.  Well, I don’t know if ‘reprieve’ is the right word because he has to deal with the stressful reality of ensuring that all safety measures are practiced.  In order to keep his family as safe as possible, he must do everything he possibly can to avoid catching coronavirus and, in case he does become exposed to it and ends up being asymptomatic, he has the added responsibility of making sure he doesn’t pass it on to anyone with whom his path crosses.  (This should be the reality of every person who leaves their house, by the way).  After all, Hubby is the sole person in our household who goes out to work and shops for the necessities, such as groceries and my medicines, and man, am I grateful he has a job and can provide for us all!  The only downfall is that he moved into the guest room on March 13, as an added precaution, because I have pre-existing health conditions, which place me in the high-risk, vulnerable category.

I admit that in the first few weeks of #homequarantine I was resentful of Hubby.  Nothing much had changed for him, it seemed, and he certainly had no empathy for what the kids and I were experiencing.  I was the one home with the kids ALL the time, managing online school schedules, keeping the house tidy, playing with the younger one when he would have ordinarily had after-school activities, because his big brother was in school until late in the afternoon, managing the mental side of what was taking place, cooking three meals a day and then some!  Our sons have bottomless bellies, it seems.

Anyway, after a few weeks, I exploded.  I explained to said husband that while every person on the planet was affected by the outbreak of COVID-19 in some way, each one of our experiences was different and we would have to find a way to empathize with what one another was going through.  Well, that seemed to work.  I have learned to appreciate the pressures that he is under and he no longer assumes I’m having a grand old time, kicking up my feet at home and eating bonbons all day!  We have a smooth system now, with him taking over all the laundry, the washing up at night and the yard work.  Okay, I admit that he has always done those things to some extent, but he has really stepped up his game, which I completely appreciate.  In fact, I’d go as far as saying that I miss him terribly and living apart in the same house is now the most difficult part to cope with, during this COVID-19 pandemic.

emmasharptv@gmail.com

The acclaimed Jamaican author Melanie Schwapp writes this novel from the point of view of her protagonist, Milly Pratt, who goes from living a humble existence with her mother, amidst near poverty, to a golden life with her husband.

Schwapp seamlessly takes the character of Milly on as herself, so you feel as if it’s more a personal memoir than a work of fiction. However, it’s not written in chronological order, rather Milly haphazardly describes her experiences, often repeating herself in the process. This messiness matches the messiness of Milly’s life, even though only the reader is privy to this. The people who are actually in her life merely see a fortunate woman, not one being banged up by her husband.

As you read through the book, you will become incensed by the so-called “stupidity” or “carelessness” of women who let men have their cake and eat it too. This theme is no stranger to our own lives in Jamaica, nor to many women across the world, but when it’s depicted on the pages we pore over, it nauseatingly resonates and sticks to us. Whether this is because we have the knowledge of some form of abuse happening to others whom we know well, or to ourselves, the heaviness of it haunts the daily lives of so many. Ergo, Milly’s plight might pull your spirit down for a time, but hang in there and she might figure out where the actual gold lies.

emmasharptv@gmail.com