COVID, lets face it -- It was the most miserable part of everyone's life. The world outside my window seemed to fade into a grayscale existence. Isolation swallowed me. Each day was a struggle, a battle against the sadness and the feeling of loneliness that threatened to consume me. With no one to talk to, even though I was living with my parents, I didn't necessarily had the greatest relationship with them. I was a in my pre-teens and had the same temper and habits as any other pre- teen kid – staying in my room all day, not showering for days, not talking to anyone. Life became so monotonous and repetitive during that time. Now that I look back at it I am damn sure I was depressed, I used to cry for hours and hours. Desperation led me to find solace in stories and music, my only companions during those long, desolate days. I devoured books that transported me to different worlds, where the characters faced challenges and emerged victorious. Music became my refuge, each note a soothing balm to the wounds within. The end of the lockdown marked the beginning of a new chapter in my life. I started going to school again and made started interacting with people, I may have created an alter ego for myself in order to appear lively so people would like me. I talked to these classmates of mine whom I wouldn't have talked to if they weren't my classmates and as we spent our time together I started getting closer to them building the bonds of friendship which I desperately needed after that depressive phase. During our exam season we would study together on meet and often go to watch movies and plan house parties together. I felt a surge of gratitude for the friendships that had pulled me from the depths of despair. Together, we explored the world outside our confined spaces, breathing in the fresh air and savouring the colours that had returned to my life. The once-silent heart now echoed with laughter and the joyous symphony of friendship. My three companions had become my whole world, and I realized that even in the darkest times, the universe conspired to bring light into our lives. No longer held captive by depression, I embraced the newfound happiness that radiated from within. The stories and music that once provided solace were now interwoven with the tales of my own journey, a testament to the transformative power of connection. As the famous saying goes “tough times don't last but tough people do.” This picture was taken recently in house party for new years

Old man James sat in front of his porch as the sun caressed his harsh features. His face was relaxed- a rarity indeed, considering he always has a frown etched on his dark face. On Sunday afternoons like this, when all the folks were in church, he sat outside exuding a moment of serenity, like now. I almost gave in to the urge to take a picture commemorating oldman James's first smile in decades. Almost. Consequently, the chattering of people permeated the solemn atmosphere, effectively putting to death old man James' peaceful aura. Kickstarting his feet to life, he stood, grunted a good afternoon to me (much to my surprise since he'd effectively ignored me for the two and half hours I'd been staring at him- or maybe four hours, anyways-), he adjusted His brownish-whatever-coloured cap on his thinned hair and entered his salon before anyone could shout "Old man James". He doesn't look as old as his name implies, however, his never-smile-till-I-die demeanor added a decade to his 50ish self. On the flip side, not many could mess with old man James. I mean, his cold demeanor could give anyone a brain freeze. That, however, doesn't stop the people of Achimota from giving him names. A little payback for all the times he'd declined their festive dinner invitations, or their housewarming parties- which is everytime. So, behind closed doors, he's known as 'memuna' (always frowning), kakai (beast), James Debond (don't ask) among many other derogatory names- by kids and adults alike. I also didn't like him at first. Don't get me wrong but he is rude and scary. The last time, for instance, he'd sacked his client for crying too much and snotting in his shop. The client was two years old and it was raining heavily outside. Both mother and child would have been drenched if my mom hadn't let them in her shop. So yeah, Old man James has a terrible rep. However, hearing his life story from the town's Wikipedia, which is my mother, and writing it down, put things in perspective. Apparently, there was a time Old man James smiled. Believe it or not, he even laughed. Yep. Teeth and all. That was eleven years ago, before he lost his wife in a car accident. According to my mom, it broke him so bad he moved out of their town house in the estate-y side of Achimota, into his barber salon. It finally explains how he manages to keep up with his rent even though few people frequent his shop. Apparently, he's loaded. Anyways, sitting here side by side with Old man James' as he narrates his tragedy, in a voice with more than just coldness in it, will forever be one of my dearest moments in life. It's a shame you think I'd tell the most vulnerable parts of a person's life without said person's clarification. However, It's more shameful that no words can accurately describe the pain, longing, misery and regret running across his features. Apparently, 20th July, was his wife's eleventh year anniversary and he needed someone to talk to. Guess who played incompetent therapist to the melancholic old man James, this girl! For accuracy sake, let's ignore the "he needed someone to talk to" part. This is how the session began Me (suspiciously cheerful): Good morning Mr James Old man James (eyes narrowed in suspicion): *grunts* Me: How are you doing today Old man James: *less enthusiastic grunts* Me( still with a huge smile): Is it me or you sound...sad? As our elders say, happiness is the uhm... antidote for the uhm.. .heart but sadness...sadness is veeery bad, like terrible, you- Old man James (with a heavy sigh and wistful voice): I see your mother told you.. Me (with a heavily dumbfounded face because that's the longest sentence Old man James has ever said to me): Uhh

With backpacks on our backs, dreams in our hearts and stars in our eyes, my husband (Jason) and I (Heena), set off on an adventure of a lifetime…travelling around the world. Sadly, only after 133 days, our adventure came to a sudden halt. Why? Well, you've probably heard of the most common and biggest enemy of 2020, it goes by several names – Covid-19 / Coronavirus / SARS-CoV-2. Of course, not just our lives, Coronavirus brought the whole world to a standstill. Cities that never sleep, all of a sudden found their roads deserted. Ever busy airports were ghost towns. Shops and restaurants were closed. Buses and trains ran empty. People were fearful and anxious…no longer just of catching the ghastly virus, but of each other! The super powers of the world were playing blame games (surprise) and capitalism was brought down to its knees! We, unfortunate nomads, got stuck in Medellin, Colombia – with our fates in the hands of the raging Coronavirus. Quarantine life Unbeknown to us, Coronavirus was travelling across the world a whole lot faster than us. Before the situation flared up, we were in Bogota, still making jokes about those odd people wearing masks and gloves. We ourselves had a mild scare when Jason complained about being out of breath. I say mild, as not long after he had complained, we realised we had flown in from sea-level to one of South America's highest cities. Well, no wonder he was out of breath! We decided to travel to Medellin, so that we could live our “lockdown sentence” in the “city of eternal spring”, in a milder climate – Bogota was a bit cold for our liking. The initial days were a pleasant blur. We moved into a self-catering flat, over indulged in fine wines and home-cooked meals. We caught up with our families and friends via video calls. However, those fun filled days soon disappeared when we learnt that a colleague back home had died of Coronavirus, and then, we found ourselves in a dark abyss. Our colleague's death hit home. Jason and I, stuck in a studio flat, 24/7, had no choice but to talk about our feelings of losing someone we admired and respected. It wasn't easy, it was painful, it hurt so bad. We both experienced sudden spurts of emotions and ended up in pools of tears. We realised though; we were lucky to have each other. We spent hours talking about our fears of losing family members or friends back home and not being able to bid adios to them. Those were complex talks and we learnt so much more about ourselves and each other. Let me add here - we've been together for 13 years, and I thought (so wrongly) that surely, we know all we need to know about each other? It goes to show we are always learning! Once we were able to rise above the dark abyss, we decided to focus on the positives, and developed routines (Jason really took to sweeping the floor!) to enable us to have a purpose. We reflected on our past journeys, reminisced about the incredible people we had met on our travels, and the life changing experiences we had gained in those 133 days. We wrote blogs about our experiences; those were beautiful times – we were reliving our memories. With lockdowns being extended every two weeks in Medellin, we were in a desperate need of a change of scenery. So, we moved to a bigger and a nicer flat to maintain our sanity. Respecting and accepting change We have accepted this life dictated by Coronavirus. It hasn't been easy – our freedom being taken away has really kicked us in our backsides. I have my highs and lows, and sometimes, several in a day! However, writing has been my unselfish comrade, that has helped me find some equilibrium in my life. It has aided me to stay positive and process my thoughts, in turn enabling me to respect and accept the “new normal” way of living. Writing about my feelings, fears and experiences, has provided me with a vital medium to create a robust bridge between anxiety and self-preservation. I received lots of positive messages from people around the world, who have read my stories and experiences. They have shared with me their own quarantine ups and downs. Knowing that other people were experiencing similar fears, really helped me to feel less of an emotional wreak! We discussed our routines and what was helping us to maintain our emotional well-being. Those beautiful intricacies of newly formed virtual friendships, have empowered me to continue to connect. I have created some meaningful bonds that have proven to be nothing less than a life-line. Hope I hope for a life free of Coronavirus. I hope that people maintain what seems to be a new found respect for Mother Earth. I hope people continue to be caring and kind towards one another. Lastly, I hope we do not take this life for granted. All we have is now, so let us live life to the fullest and write about it whenever we can!

A person is born naturally good. Or rather, a person is born good but is meant to be both good and bad in order to be complete. I was a timid child. They called me quiet, chubby, but smart and kind. I only knew how to be happy, by reading, watching TV, drawing. But there were unavoidable times that my quiet little space was invaded by bullies who had nothing better to do. And there was no one, no one strong enough or caring or with authority enough that stopped them. I cried silently. I forgave. My best friend whom I had only met in high school had no idea what I experienced. But it was okay. I wasn't hurt, I got used to it, and I could still smile and be myself. I just distance myself from those kinds of people. I mean, I wasn't the only one who was bullied. But, the funny thing was that, I didn't try hard to defend myself. But whenever I saw others being bullied, I would always help them and comfort them. Maybe I wanted to give to others the help and security I didn't receive. I don't know. It just happened involuntarily. I was a child, a teen, and I moved on impulse. And my default mode, apparently, was sacrificial of my own time and comfort. They say, there will be no enslaver if no one allows themselves to be enslaved. And I am guilty of being willing to be enslaved of little things, small things that for others were just pieces of paper, money, ballpoint pens, carrying their bags, doing their assignments and letting them copy from my test answer. And I just smiled through it all. I was deaf to the words of those who really cared, as they kept telling me that I acted like a doormat and other people were abusing me. To me, that was how I show my generosity. But, this habit, this foolish belief, extended from my friendships to my romantic relationships later on. Feeling trapped in a whirlwind of emotions of another person can take its toll, and even the kindest, most foolish would someday wake up and say they've had enough. That's what I had experienced in a three-year relationship. And it left such a deep scar on me that I grew scared of love even sensing a tiny bit of sadness and anger within myself could recoil and paralyze me again. And like a bad seed, the jealousy, the malice, the negativity I firsthand experienced in him grew roots inside me. It was a nightmare, and I swore I learned my lesson. But, I wasn't quite healed yet. A few years later, I met a man whom I deemed was different from him, although no one is truly perfect. During our relationship I discovered stoicism. But I won't elaborate on that here as what I'm about to tell is far more important. I've read Siddhartha, a novel by Hermann Hesse, by chance. I was looking for Demian as it was referred to in a series of music videos by a favorite band, but sadly, the online bookshop didn't have a copy of it, but had Siddhartha and Steppenwolf instead so I bought those two. It must've been fate, because I could relate to the protagonist's journey. Siddhartha was good when the story began, but in search of enlightenment he left what he was accustomed to, by joining the ascetics and gave up things of the world. But down the road, he concluded that he could not fully be enlightened that way, even shunning the way of Buddha himself, and went to a city where he met a woman whom he regarded as his teacher. It was there that he learned about love, about business, and eventually, succumbed to lust and greed. When his actions caused him to be sick both inside and outside, he wandered away from the city in a state of confusion. Later he met a boatman and through old age, calmed and gained wisdom, finally proving that each one of us had to experience evil and hardships in order to be whole. In my recent years, although I am a complete nobody, I have experienced hardships and conflict, and even found someone that awakened the other side of me--a darker me that was skeptical of the good in myself and others. I have delved deep into knowing myself through that darkness though--recognizing my anger, depression, frustration, anxiety, etc. as valid emotions. I became more aware of why happiness in me isn't constant, for inner and outer reasons. Like in the novel Siddhartha, I guess I had to experience all this so that I could look back and not commit the same mistakes again. Even if I have grown far from the kind and innocent kid I was when I was younger, and despite all my wishes and attempts of returning to that state, I couldn't just erase the events that happened and affected me emotionally and spiritually. I just had to be my own hero and press on. So here I am, still struggling, yes, but I'm accepting the fact that this is all happening for a reason, and that there are still good days ahead.