The Bennett Family - Sydney, Australia
“Just to warn you, any question that you ask will be answered with a family argument.” John half-jokes. In their apartment sitting-room in Sydney, he’s assembled the family to give different perspectives on the Australian reaction, or the lack of it. John claims that people there tend to be pretty lax, and this time’s no different.
He and his wife Tabona sit on the couch, while twelve-year-old Zoe is behind them, strategically wearing a hoodie as to show as much or as little of her face as she likes. Younger brother Jake orbits around, a restless satellite keeping one eye on proceedings at all times. John is first to speak, setting the tone so the others to follow suit. He admits that not many were taking it seriously at the time, in part due to the Australian bushfires a few months previously.
I’m jarred when he mentions them - an event that had completely faded into my own mental background. Considering it had dominated the headlines of early 2020, it had seemed (and was) a historical environmental disaster. Headlines of pneumonia in China paled in comparison to entire cities in Australia covered by ash and smoke. Wuhan was an unfamiliar territory, a foreign anomaly to the Western world, something mentioned at the end of the report. Now though, the images of burned koala bears seem a distant happening compared to videos of vacant streets, speaking either to our own short-sightedness or our short memory when faced with a new catastrophe.
According to John, the Australian government’s absence of effective response to the bushfires corresponded to a lack of confidence in the government to deal with any crises – especially a pandemic. “They change their politicians here like socks.” He says that most cases had come from cruise ships and that these were traceable. Despite this, there were few interventions. A good proportion of the people in Australia are working in the cultural industry, and so the shutdowns so far hadn’t been taken well and were being resisted. They consider themselves lucky, with John’s job continuing from home and Tabona on half hours - telling me their one-and-a-half income was keeping them afloat in the very expensive city.
The biggest concern, they joke throughout, is not killing Jake. He continues to fly around the room, toys in hand. While John and Tabona update me on what’s going on throughout the country from their perspective, Zoe sits quietly behind them, rarely interjecting but seemingly tuned in. Jake has wandered off, but intermittently appears on-screen.
When I ask if there are any concerns for themselves, they seem confident in their own health and ability to cope. There is an elderly neighbour they mention, and an older couple downstairs. Upon hearing the adults talk, Jake lapses from his play and asks what 'At risk' means. Tabona forgets me for a moment, addressing their son. For their family, if they get it, they'll get better. She slows her speech “If someone who is older gets it”... Pausing, she searches through the complexities and how much to explain, and leaves it at “There would be complications.” He watches her for a second, weighing up whether to accept this. He does, and goes back to his ball.
Schools are continuing to operate. They comment that for people who don't have anywhere else to send their children, it’s considered important to keep that option open. Most parents have kept their children at home, with online resources provided and check-ins soon to be required. When John says this, the children interject saying they hadn’t heard anything about it and dispute that things are changing, and as John predicted, it momentarily descends into a squabble. The argument goes in circles, neither parent or child gaining ground. Eventually, they agree to disagree and move on, if only for the sake of the interview.
They do seem to be coping well, even if they joke of strain. Cooped up in their apartment, they miss their outdoor activities. Particularly into sports, they mention they’ve had to scale back on their usual pastimes, and Jake runs past, ball in hand as if to illustrate their point. When they do go out, John laughs about the nicknamed ‘Covids’ – those who hadn’t typically exercised or gone out much before the crisis, and had now taken to walking or running. Seemingly unsure of etiquette, he said you could spot them by their lumbering uncertainty, adding to the apocalyptic feeling of events.
Small complaints in the scope of things. For Tabona however, her family are on her mind. Born in Botswana, both her and John are very concerned about the possibility of the virus finding a foothold there. The borders have been shut, they say, but there have still been some isolated cases. They talk about the hotels being used to house the cases, going off the information they could get from her home.
A heavy mood comes over the couple, contrasting with their seeming laissez-faire approach to Australia. John struggles to articulate the disaster that could arise. With fewer sanitation facilities than some of its more developed neighbours, frequent hand-washing would be a difficult prospect. Equally, he stresses the huge prevalence of HIV among those in Botswana, with one quarter of the adult population infected. Consider that, and the elderly population of the country, and he goes wide-eyed at the prospect. It’s a disaster on a scale we haven’t conceptualised. “Nearly half the population could just be wiped out.”
“I’ve never seen people as sociable as those in Botswana, and so if it did take off, people wouldn't regard the advice to stay away from each other." Here seems to be the heart of their concern. Gleefully remembering being back home, Tabona says there is a wedding every weekend (to which Jake interjects, expressing equal fondness for the parties). There’s little chance of a bride-to-be cancelling her ceremony for anything. If government officials shut the weddings down, she explains the families will whole-heartedly agree, just to re-organise it out of official sight. John nods:
“They're the type of people where if you go into a supermarket, there'll be no staff. You’ll be walking through empty aisle after empty aisle and there’ll be no one. Then all of a sudden you'll come to one aisle where there's twenty staff all together, chatting and having a great time.” He is laughing - exasperation paling in comparison to his fondness for their warmth. Jake continues to run around, and Zoe is beginning to steal the occasional glance at her phone. Tabona is listening though, understanding all too well the implications of her home’s good humour. John’s brow furrowing, he sighs - “That’s the kind of society it is. The virus would spread like wildfire.”
Sam Cox