How Omicron Stole Christmas

 

We are now into almost 2 years of life with covid and our hopes of things improving have certainly risen and crashed repeatedly like the waves on the seashore. But never have hopes been so dashed as with the announcement of the Omicron variant so close to Christmas.

 

In October, we made plans to return to Canada to deal with several items “home-side” that needed our attention. Africa’s covid case rates were very low, and Dwight and I were immunized, so it seemed this trip home would be easier than the one we had done in February when we had to do hotel and home quarantine for 14 days. So, we confidently booked a flight on Air France out of Johannesburg, South Africa, to Canada on December 9, 2021.

 

The trip put us under a bit of time pressure though because of a heavy workload. The Cessna’s annual maintenance was due in mid-November in South Africa, so this gave little time to return to the mission in Mozambique afterwards to wrap things up so we could be gone for several months. 

 

During our two weeks in South Africa doing the aircraft’s maintenance, Omicron’s discovery (by a South African lab) hit the news. Everyone read in horror about how heavily mutated the new variant was and speculated what implications it could have. A seeming monster had been unearthed and governments around the world immediately imposed travel bans on 7 southern African countries including South Africa and Mozambique…the places we live and work. What has been referred to as a “knee jerk reaction” turned the anticipation and joy of many into a time of grief as travel plans had to be canceled. Couples separated by the miles would not be together for Christmas, sick parents could not be visited, grandparents could not meet grandchildren, job contracts were canceled, people separated by covid for nearly two years would remain separated again.

 

We knew that as Canadian citizens we had the right to return to Canada, but the restrictions they set in place for “their own” were so prohibitive that return became next to impossible. Negative PCR’s from the “red listed” Southern African countries, including South Africa…the very country whose capability and expertise enabled the sequencing of the new variant in the first place, were not accepted. And since there are no direct flights to Canada from the African continent, they required an “in transit” PCR in whichever country citizens or permanent residents were scheduled to transit through. The problem was that most countries with airline service put bans against Southern African passengers in place so quickly that there were almost no options for returning home. A very select few allowed passengers to transit, but they did not have PCR testing capacity in the transit zone. 

 

There were two small glimmers of hope…one was to fly through Germany where in transit PCR’s could be organized at a cost of approx CAD$460 EACH (for relocation cost of lab personnel into the transit area to do the required PCR). One could also fly through Ethiopia, but this entailed leaving the airport to get a PCR, staying overnight, then catching a flight onward the following day. The unsettling part was that Canada had issued a travel advisory due to instability and violence in Ethiopia. So yay, there were a few options. But equally unsettling was the question “what if I test positive in transit?” No one wants a covid positive traveler! 

 

Within days of the announced bans, South Africa’s president and the WHO spoke out strongly against them. In response, restrictions and travel advice changed by the minute. Embassies and consulates sent email updates to their citizens overseas, but the details were often inconsistent with the information on their own websites. One wasn’t sure where to turn to find out what rules applied to the current situation. Travels agents were at a loss as well, and that was even more concerning. But difficult times draw people together, and there were some “covid travel groups” on Facebook and WhatsApp that I joined which proved to be very helpful. My phone buzzed and dinged incessantly as panicked group members posted questions and shared what they learned in an effort to help each other. 

 

Initially, we decided that if this plan to return wasn’t going to work out we would just stay put. But we felt we should at least try and if there was an open door, we’d rebook. Once the first week of worldwide chaos was past, our travel agent said she could reschedule us on December 12^th on Luftansa through Frankfurt--the only viable route for returning Canadians. The in-transit PCR requirement was still a concern so we didn’t respond immediately. 

 

There happened to be a Canadian girl’s field hockey team in South Africa when all this transpired. In light of the Omicron scare, their tournament was cancelled and they needed to get home. In short order, Canada issued a surprise exemption that saved the day for the many Canadian citizens and Permanent Residents who were otherwise stranded. The exemption did away with the mandatory in-transit PCR, so long as people routed through Germany (Frankfurt specifically). They also decided to accept PCR’s done by accredited labs in 2 major cities in South Africa. This exemption was to be in effect only from November 30th to December 13^th. The new date and route proposed by our travel agent fit perfectly with this exemption so we finalized the booking. There was still a catch, because there’s always a catch, and that is that the narrow window of time for the PCR test which was exactly 48h from collection to flight departure time out of Frankfurt to Canada. So, you had to count your hours carefully. Thankfully, South Africa’s labs are very efficient getting results in less than 24 and if you go private and pay a bit more, you can get rapid PCR in as little as 2 hours. 

 

We breathed a sigh of relief at that exemption! Also, by this stage we felt our bodies were pretty covid-savvy. We had already had covid (in January, 2021) and through an unusual unfolding of events, had received 3 doses of the vaccine (mainly to facilitate international travel since that defines our lives and work). When we originally booked our trip home we thought it would be smooth sailing. But Omicron threw that all out of whack. Not only did we need to do the required PCR testing to return, but Canada also required PCR and mandatory hotel quarantine on arrival regardless of vaccination status. The hotel quarantine was required while awaiting the arrival PCR result. If it was negative and you had a place to isolate safely, you could carry on to that location to complete a total of 14 days quarantine. 

 

Somewhere amid this chaos, and before we even left Africa, cases of Omicron were discovered in Europe, USA, Japan and even Canada. We had done one 14 day quarantine in February when we were home and were not excited at the prospect of doing it again—especially for a variant that had beat us home. 

 

The paperwork we had to prepare for this trip was mind boggling. It was recommended we have hard copies of our ArriveCan app registration number, PCR results (both to enter South Africa from Mozambique and to leave south Africa for Germany), flight itineraries, tickets for all 3 flights, proof of vaccination, authorization to leave Mozambique for more than 3 months, and a South African exit health statement. We practically needed a binder to hold all the pages!

 

The days leading up to our departure were long, hot, and sweaty in the Mozambican bush as we squirreled around tackling our many final tasks. Finally, we managed to wrap things up and were off, although we were thoroughly exhausted. That was partially from the business but also from the stress of dealing with chaos, uncertainty, and forever changing requirements.

 

Our flights all went well and we were surprised by how jam packed they were. We had joined a WhatsApp group primarily for South Africans who had become Canadian citizens or were permanent residents because we were all fighting for a way to get back “home” together. We had organized sub-groups based on departure dates from South Africa to Frankfurt so knew even when we left for Canada that many were on the same flights as we were, even if we didn’t know their faces.

 When we landed at the Calgary airport, we were swiftly ushered into a side room reserved for southern African travelers where we submitted our quarantine plans, answered questions, did our arrival PCR swabs and received instructions. Dwight and I thought we had a fail-safe plan to head straight for home quarantine from the airport. We had booked a rental car that we would drive to a basement suite for isolation. The Canadian govt website had indicated we could use public transport to get to the car rental place, but that turned out to be just one more of many pieces of misinformation that had marked the past few weeks. The health officer at the airport said our plan was solid but only IF the rental agency could provide “contactless delivery” of the vehicle. Our hearts sunk a little. We called about 20 numbers until we finally had the right line only to hear that our request wasn’t possible. We had to go in person to the counter to pick up our booked vehicle. We had just been sitting elbow to elbow with hundreds of people crammed on the arriving flight, most of whom did not have to comply with this “enhanced screening” process we were subject to, but suddenly we weren’t allowed to approach a car rental desk for one last “transaction” before quarantine? It really didn’t make much sense. But that didn’t matter.

 

Our plan was turned down and we, along with our little group of southern Africans, were ushered outside into the winter cold. We boarded a school bus which took us to the Calgary Airport Westin Hotel--our new home while we awaited our PCR results. When we got on the bus, the driver instructed us to maintain distance from each other. “Leave empty seats  between you”. We did. 

 

When we arrived at the hotel we entered the humungous lobby. It was elegant but empty and void, only reminiscent of what must have been beautiful and bustling with busy travelers. Once inside were instructed again, sternly, to stand far away from each other. I wanted to say, “Do you realize we just flew two 10-hour flights with barely 4” between our shoulders?” But I didn’t. The weather wasn’t the only thing offering us all a cold reception.

 

One of the hallways that lead to the hotel’s “covid branch” was completely lined in white plastic—floors, walls, and ceiling. At the entrance to this hallway was a sign-in desk where they took down our details, handed us a bundle of paperwork with phone numbers, instructions on what we were and were not permitted to do, and so on. Then, one by one, and with more than adequate distance between us, we were marched down the white plastic hallway to the elevator. My mind immediately labeled this “the walk of shame.” Clearly, we were “unclean”. From the elevator to our room’s door, we walked on more plastic. I wondered what they thought we were going to do to their carpets. It seemed extreme, and surreal--like a weird dream. Outside each room was a plastic box that contained disposable gloves, a bottle of disinfectant, cleaning cloths, and extra toilet paper. We were not to leave the room, and we were to always wear a mask when opening the door for any reason. Since we didn’t go out ever, we only ever opened it to retrieve the food delivered three times a day and to set our garbage bags outside for pick up.

 

Our hotel room itself was very nice. It’s the Westin, after all. Some of the helpful items had been removed though, like the ironing board and iron, blow drier, and microwave. I guess they’re fire hazards but I’m not sure why that was specific to us. Maybe there were other reasons. The bed had been untidily made but seemed clean. From our WhatsApp group we’d heard horror stories of people being given dirty rooms with unwashed bed linen in Toronto, so we were thankful not to experience that. Our food for the most part was fine and usually warm enough to be palatable. Others had received cold food and some, who clearly had blow driers in their rooms, used them to warm their food up before eating. If we wanted to go outside (not that we did in -20C and no one came knocking), we would have needed a guard to accompany us and would have been allowed a 15 min break twice a day. Some hotels had cordoned off areas for this where travellers were not allowed to walk beyond. 

 

Considering the fact that we had only 48 hours from PCR test time in Johannesburg to boarding our Canada bound flight in Frankfurt, we were shocked to learn that it can take 72 hours or more to just receive results of our arrival PCR’s in Canada! At least our samples were collected at the airport. Others have had to go to their quarantine hotel and wait more than a day to even have the PCR done. We are supposed to be reporting our symptoms each day on the ArriveCan app, but the app is broken. We had entered our information several times but it only retained my record…on Dwight’s phone! It certainly doesn’t instill a sense of confidence in the system.

View from our window out the Calgary Airport Westin

 As I write this we are on day 3 of our quarantine and finally received our negative PCR results...58 hours later! This should mean we are good to proceed to our home quarantine, but we apparently need a release letter from the health agency. We are told it could take up to another 3 days for this to happen as well, but when it does, we can take public transportation to get to where we need to go. But we mustn’t stop anywhere or talk to anyone on our way to our home quarantine. And that’s not inconsistent at all…

 

One of the biggest questions that boggles my mind is, what is the whole point of quarantine to keep Omicron out if during these few weeks, it has already grown and spread considerably before we even arrived? Here in Alberta, as a vaccinated person, if I am exposed to someone with omicron covid I don’t need to isolate. But as someone who has flown in from a southern African country who is potentially exposed, I need to isolate for a full 14 days? Isn’t this the same bug??

 

Also highly concerning is the great cost of all this to our country. These hotels cost $300-$500/night normally. Add to that the cost of security, food services, shuttles, and support staff and you’re looking at a cool $1000/night/room. And let’s not forget the cost to those who had to rebook tickets, pay for additional PCR’s and hotel rooms, and productivity lost to sitting for hours, days and weeks in isolation awaiting the “all clear” from yet another variant. All of this quickly adds up to hundreds of thousands of dollars in costs to isolate people, currently for no good reason other than simply because they came from a certain geographical location. Period. The practicality and science of dealing with covid has, at a breathtaking pace, been buried by politics, policy making, virtue signaling, and mandate enforcing.

Many have held these same concerns and more, and have gone public with them in any way they can. I will post a few links here of videos and articles that are worth a look. 

Good report introducing those who set up WhatsApp groups and refers to Ethiopia transit

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7i63CcUM66Y

Kamil--a traveler, like us, "stuck in South Africa"

https://www.ctvnews.ca/video?clipId=2333108

Personal news reports about prolonged hotel stays:

https://www.cbc.ca/news/business/south-africa-travel-omicron-1.6279085

 

One can only hope that the world learn from this experience, and that our health authorities begin to understand the costly psychological and financial implications of their decisions on countless innocent Canadians who do travel for important reasons!