What does it mean to be a pessimist in the middle of a global crisis?
In the beginning of February, when I heard about the first case of Coronavirus in the UK from a friend, I wasn’t worried. I told her to relax, but maybe that had been my naivety speaking. Fast forward a month, I found out the first cases of Coronavirus had been recorded in Pakistan. That’s when the anxiety sat in - would I make it back home? Should I even travel? Would I be back in time to complete the remainder of first year? Would Pakistan be able to cope with such a crisis?
As I struggled with these questions, the UK seemed to continue living as it had before. On the 11th of March, the Covid-19 outbreak was finally declared a pandemic yet on the same night, I spent my last night in Cambridge at a club with hundreds of other people. Maybe at that time, the reality of the historic event we were undergoing hadn’t set in; you read these dystopian sci-fi novels, but nothing prepares you for what it’ll look like in reality.
That’s what got me - my coping mechanism and defense strategy to keep my mind at peace had always been to expect the worst, and detach myself from the situation. This is what I chose to do this time too - telling all my friends to come home before borders closed, wondering what would come of Pakistan if the virus spread but expecting the worst and a strong belief that the chance of me being back in Cambridge, even by October was an unlikely possibility.
Amidst my selfish attempts to deal with the uncertain existence I would have to live through, I hadn’t fully digested the impact of this crisis for the different individuals, or the state of economies, or those stuck far from home.
But here’s the thing, right? I, as a pessimist, read one article about the effect of the lockdown in Karachi on the daily wagers in Pakistan and my hopelessness snowballed. From what followed thoughts about those stray animals who no longer had food and then, the other minute, it became about the man in the video I saw on Facebook, who lost his job as a cleaner but refuses to beg. Oh but what about that unfortunate story about the woman who was raped after being lured in by calls for ration?
This is, and was, the reality of the world we live in, but as a pessimist, it’s also all I can seem to focus on. Fortunately, there is another side to the negativity; the fact that people jumped to the challenge and provided charity and rations for those that couldn’t afford this lockdown, or the idea that people were reconnecting with their passions and learning to appreciate the mundane in quarantine.
Yet, as a pessimist, it is sometimes difficult to think of the good without thinking about the what ifs - should charity really be taking the state’s role in providing welfare to its citizens? Isn’t it my privilege that I get to sit at home and learn to play the piano or cook different meals each day, instead of worrying about the safety of my family or, that I could choose to ignore the world beyond the walls of my house?
I guess my childhood in a city that was once listed amongst the world’s top 10 dangerous cities taught me a lot about the art of desensitising yourself to the constant violence. But, I think there’s much to learn from the reality of living in Karachi - there will always be a light at the end of the tunnel, and it is this same resilience that this city has taught me that allows me to go through everyday knowing that there will be a day when we will wake up to a new world where all this is just a distant memory, and no longer our reality.