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A postcard from Colombia, home of the world's longest (but most bungled) lockdown

Colombia's lockdown was draconian on paper – even car tyres were sprayed with disinfectant. The reality, by necessity, was rather different - getty
Colombia's lockdown was draconian on paper – even car tyres were sprayed with disinfectant. The reality, by necessity, was rather different - getty

Before you read this, it’s important to clarify that I have a vested interest in a return to normality. I co-own El Rio Hostel in Colombia, a backpackers’ hostel and bar that occasionally doubles up as a club, so allowing people to socialise is pretty much the core element of my business.

Leisure tourism and nightlife especially will be the last things to return to their pre-pandemic heights, and El Rio has been closed since March, when lockdown measures were introduced early in order to prevent the spread of Covid-19 (spoiler alert: it didn’t work – Colombia is currently sitting pretty at sixth in the world for confirmed cases, ahead even of European leader Spain).

It has been interesting witnessing how the pandemic has been handled on both sides of the Atlantic. At first I was optimistic that Colombia’s early lockdown and almost immediate closure of borders would nip the virus in the bud, and things may have been different had the lockdown been executed in the same manner as it was in many parts of Europe. In reality, this wasn’t possible.

Colombia, by its very nature, is a country where a lockdown will never work. Firstly, the vast majority of people live day to day, so earn and spend as they go. Therefore asking them to sit tight, order from Deliveroo and watch Netflix for a couple of months wasn’t ever going to fly. Secondly, the bureaucratic systems still in place in the country require face-to-face contact – endless notarising of documents, menial banking admin, even paying parking fines, can only be done in person. Consequently, the streets were as busy as ever, with the one difference being that everyone wore a mask. The knock-on effect was that the mask completely overruled most other distancing measures, and in such a social country life largely continued as normal, albeit minus bars and restaurants in cities.

In more rural areas, local plastic chair “menu corriente” eateries continued without interruption. Some other, slightly strange measures were introduced, including spraying car tyres and the soles of your shoes before entering a neighbourhood or shop (the first time I entered a shop after a lengthy period avoiding going to the city I was actually physically manhandled by the spray man, so eager was he to clean my shoes of their potential coating of Covid).

So Colombia’s cases crept up, spiking in mid August, just after I’d made my escape back to Europe and after most of Europe had opened back up for business. Locally to El Rio most residents refused to feel intimidated by the virus; sicknesses with very similar symptoms as Covid-19 are common, simply known as “la gripa” (the flu), so talk of the virus was mostly that it was an outside problem and wouldn’t be affecting the area. In contrast to the UK, where most people had been prepared to sit tight and wait for the green light, Colombians simply invested in a face mask and started behaving as normal. In the rural village of Buritaca, close to El Rio, the police, other than fining one foreigner one million pesos for being out without a mask (that’s just over £200, more than one month’s minimum salary in Colombia), seemed unable to control the population at all, whereby leaving everyone to their own devices. One sign outside a local shop simply read: “If I don’t work, I don’t eat”.

In the UK we’ve been issued with (often confusing) guidelines and recommendations throughout the pandemic; in Colombia we were bombarded with a mind-boggling number of decrees and resolutions, all law-binding, from both national and regional governing bodies. Where in the UK people generally complain of confusion from either lack of information, confusing guidelines and differences in rules for each nation, or, latterly, contradictory information (Eat Out To Help Out but don’t socialise, wear a mask here but not there, don’t meet up with people from other households but definitely get together with 29 friends to shoot grouse) in Colombia the root of the confusion has come from the sheer quantity of 30-page documents dictating what is and isn’t allowed.

At El Rio we have been puzzling over whether to obey the national or regional laws, which although often run along similar lines are sometimes sharply contradictory. In order to clarify and explain, a new decree is normally accompanied with the invitation to a Zoom meeting with the head of whatever government entity is deemed responsible this time, in order to clear up the many doubts everyone usually has. Unsurprisingly, enthusiasm for these has wained over time.

In Colombia it would appear that both cases and deaths are on the decline. The five-and-a-half month “cuarentena” ended earlier this month, but the hospitality sector remains severely restricted. Bars, restaurants and hotels can’t serve liquor, hostels can only operate at 30 per cent capacity, hotels can open but with a strict cleaning regime, and all have to pass inspections. With a dry bar and reduced capacity, closed borders and really only weekend traffic from wealthier Colombians, we have opted to remain closed for the time being.

When I arrived back, more that one friend asked me how the hostel was doing and if everyone was “still furloughed over there.” Apart from receiving maybe £300 to help pay our staffs pensions, we received nothing in government aid, with small- and medium-sized businesses being left to fend for themselves. Aside from all the UK government’s failings and shortcomings throughout the pandemic, most people have high praise for the economic aid offered, with the current questions around the continuation of furlough being testament to that.

Another friend, in the context of speaking about nightlife and the current lack thereof, assured me that it’s only been six months and that relatively speaking it’s a short amount of time. I would argue that this could be true when you can sit tight, order in and work from home, but for us it has felt like an age. It is impossible to operate a socially orientated travel hotspot, or bar, virtually. Even the livestreams put on by venues, although a good fundraising attempt and definitely a valiant effort, will never come close to the feeling of togetherness you get at a gig or club. For El Rio the last six months have signified over half a million dollars in lost turnover, laying off 36 full-time members of staff, plus being unable to offer work to the scores of others working in transport, guiding tours, construction and maintenance, the vast majority of whom are now jobless and penniless (the main industry in our area is tourism, which is flatlining).

Things are finally opening up again in Colombia - getty
Things are finally opening up again in Colombia - getty

Moving forward, I’m cautiously optimistic. Looking to Sweden, perhaps Colombia’s bungled closure was paradoxically similar to the nation that largely didn’t implement any restrictions at all. Where the Scandinavian nation intentionally eschewed lockdown and gave only loose guidelines, Colombia on paper seemed draconian. However, this was far from the reality on the ground, with much of daily life resuming after a staggeringly brief attempt at European-style suppression.

Both countries had peaks within around six weeks of one another and have tapered recently, and thus far, out-of-quarantine Colombia hasn’t witnessed a second peak. In the UK, as restrictions tighten once more, Covid deaths still thankfully don’t mirror the rise in cases (the same can be said for France and Spain), although hospital admissions are creeping up. Perhaps giving people a bit more freedom isn’t such a terrible idea after all?

For now, El Rio remains closed, and we know it will be a long time before we can get back to our pre-March heyday. There’s also no chance the conservative Colombian government will allow such liberal policies on socialising as Sweden and Germany for a long time to come. For a social place like El Rio it will be a tough adjustment, but the quicker we adapt the better.