Closed Borders
A text message is my first hint. Natasha, my daughter is employed at the Northern Territory airport, she knows people, who know these things first.
NT are closing borders 4pm Tuesday 24th March.
Any interstate arrivals will be required to self-isolate for 14 days.
Confirmed by a similar message from the administrator who organizes my casual shifts at a nearby school. Plus media announcements. The chief concern is the virus will affect isolated indigenous communities with limited health workers or facilities.
My flight, Sydney to Darwin was booked for Saturday 28th. Not a top-end tropical holiday, not an outback adventure, but rather an attempt to assist. Be a helpful grandma, while her husband is on a military deployment overseas. General tasks associated with caring for 15month old. She’s been a solo working parent for over a month and I wanted to be closer.
There ensued a flurry of Facebook activity to see if anyone could define what such self-isolation would entail.
…separate room. Separate bathroom.
…meals left outside passed under the door. No outside activity. No visitors.
…in same house, but you’ll probably need to be in different areas.
All doable except for a little boy, not able to understand why Nana can’t come out and cuddle him. I imagine his insistent bashing on doors. Plus based on my whole reason for travel, I would not be of any assistance. Rather filling these requirements created a hindrance.
Our next contact included phone calls. The airline already changed my journey arrangements twice. Progressively earlier in the day, I’d been scheduled to fly more than a thousand kilometres further south, to Melbourne, then take another flight to Darwin. I understand these changes. With very few passengers, logical to pool travellers through two other major cities and combine numbers, make up a plane full. Plus ever earlier flights allow sufficient time for transition of luggage.
We can’t see any alternative so Natasha and I talked about cancelling the flight.
‘I don’t want you to put yourself in any unnecessary risk.’ She said.
‘Yes, I was worried about progressing through another airport. Increasing my risk of coming into contact with the virus.’
‘Better not to come.’
I hear emotion in her voice. No adult child wants to cry for their mummy’s comfort. Neither of us can sleep. I want to be there, know she needs me. But don’t want to be responsible for anyone getting sick. While everyone else sleeps we message over Facebook, thus avoiding text message alerts. I promise to contact the airline and see what can be done to change my travel date.
Initial enquiries using airline webpages prove frustrating. Possible to get an altered departure date, but their system won’t let me do so unless I vary both legs of my journey. Any return dates show simply not available. Can’t be right. I am, of course, offered an opportunity to call. But…
Due to closure of a Philippines call centre, unless you are travelling within the next 48 hours, do not call.
Leaving me wondering why not staff a local call centre, especially right now! Border closure does put me within the 48-hour window, so after discussions with my husband, I try. We are up early so I make a call, before 6am, get in a queue. Waiting. Ironically one piece of background music includes lyrics about not being able to get home. I imagine this light blinking somewhere, staff not rostered until at least after 8am. No one sees, no one knows, I so desperately want to help my child. When my call is answered, and the clerk realizes my travel date is several days away, her initial reaction is to cut me off short. She is dismissive, abrupt and annoyed with my non-compliance to the 48-hour rule. I tried to explain I need to travel to assist my daughter. Not helping. I tell her about borders closing. She is still yet to switch on any empathy. Finally things start to drop into place when I explained I must travel tomorrow or at the very latest, Tuesday. This latter option risks a delayed flight and arriving outside the, I want to say, curfew. So I pay extra, much less if I take Tuesday’s option. But now I don’t want to risk any further delays. Added bonus, a direct flight. She also allocates me seat 7A. Never been that close to a plane’s pointy end.
I am on the way. Amid other travellers racing back before border closure. (Later I hear a similar tale of a self-employed man who went south to visit his sick father. Only to drive the return 3,000 plus kilometres, a day later, in order to cross, soon to be closed borders) On my plane only aisle and window seats are occupied. Ensuring social distancing compliance. With so few passengers extra snacks are served.
I can cuddle the baby on arrival. I can be there for my daughter.
This same airline, shortly afterwards announces cancellation of many domestic flights. I hold a totally useless return ticket. They knew well before! Never mind, I am stuck, but can help. Hold my grandson, show him birds outside, chase Max cat around inside, listen to a little boy’s ever increasing language skills, and just be with family.