The last one: Moments of joy before the coronavirus attack

We’ve asked residents and our own staff to switch their happy brain cells on, travel farther back into the recent past. This exercise involved a recollection of a moment of joy before the coronavirus turned the whole world upside down.

We scratched the surface of memory clouded by the coronavirus' dust. What we've found: If you're keen to look for reasons to celebrate life, they come home bearing remedies for the soul aplenty.

Here’s what they have to say:

My son was thrilled 

Dr Majd Al Zoughbi, Syrian

One of the most seminal moments for me was sending my son Waard to nursery in February 2020. He turned 3 recently. He is a very affable and loving child. He was so excited about going to school. We had carefully picked a beautiful French nursery near our home.

I cannot forget the sheer excitement of that day. My son was thrilled, he got up early, dressed in his new clothes, and with his little satchel bag we took him to the school. As a mom, I felt so proud escorting him and I was so happy that he liked the idea of going to school. Unlike other children who cry, my son was happy to meet other kids and ran in. He must have gone to nursery until the last week of March and it closed down during the lockdown.

Since nurseries do not have any distance education programme, Waard was very sad. He keeps asking me why can’t he go to school and meet his friends. What happened to his school and I find it difficult to explain to hi. I am hoping the pandemic totally subsides and my son gets a chance to be at school.

Riot of colours  

Rashmi Kotriwal, Indian

I cannot forget the last party I attended just before lockdown began. This is etched in my memory as a huge riot of colours, fun and frolic. We had a party to celebrate the Indian festival of colours, Holi, on March 13 just about three days before the lockdown.

Then masks, gloves, sanitisers were more a topic of living room discussion and we were at a friend’s place for Holi with about 35 other people. Festivals are the mainstay of community life for Indians. We had music, colours, fun, lovely food from 11am in the morning right up to 3pm. It was an amazing day. The next day, my daughter flew down from the UK and by March 16 we were in the first phase of lockdown.”

I feel blessed that my daughters made it in time to Dubai and the fact that I had such a beautiful time with friends and family. When one feels low, I often look back to these happy memories. We go over the photo album. Our friends are wondering if this year we will have the usual Diwali parties at all. But there is always hope that the way UAE has handled the pandemic, happy days are not that far. We will overcome this phase and we will as always celebrate life soon.

‘Body attack’ class

Ester Ionescu, Romanian 

I cannot forget the day before UAE sterilisation drive was announced. By profession, I am a group fitness instructor and I had just given one of the best ‘Body Attack’ classes.

There was no mask to worry about. The class was full. People were scrambling for places as they all love my Body Attack classes. It was a one hour workout and after that I had such a lovely chat with the members. Some of us went out for a coffee after that.

There were no masks to worry about. There was no fear to meet for a coffee with friends and acquaintances. Now all that has changed.

There are several great memories before Coronavirus hit us. Now, all I do is count my pennies to pay my bills. Life is hard. My husband and I were earning decent. Now my husband is out of job for the last five months. My income has been slashed. Before, I had hopes for the future, now I am struggling to survive every day. This is the hard truth about COVID-19 and what it has done to humanity.

A special movie night

Ben Lebig, Filipino 

(Being movie buffs, the Lebigs – Ben, his wife Clovel and 11-year-old daughter Isabella, miss going out for movies and enjoying their time in dining out.)

Now, the lockdown has been lifted and movie theatres have opened, malls are open, but it is not the same. I cannot forget the fantastic time the three of us had watching Avengers-the End Game at Mirdiff City Centre. We had been waiting for the movie for so long and that was a special day for us. We loved the movie, the sound and the action and after the show walked around in the mall, had a sumptuous dinner.

Although UAE has opened up this whole business so social distancing, masks and the protocols, dampens the spirit. I know the government is doing it for our safety, but it is not the same as before. I would love to go for movies again, but there is still a level of concern about safety. Lebig often thinks of those carefree movie nights he shared with his family.

A beautiful holiday

Elena Pak, 35, Uzbek

I remember New Year’s Eve with my family in Moscow. It was such a beautiful holiday. My brother took leave to spend the time with us. His wife and son joined, My parents were there. We bonded as a family. Moscow was glittering and in full festive spirit. We were outdoors most of the time soaking in on the culture and adventure of the city. It was the most memorable thing I remember.

Now, I am scared to take a holiday. I don’t know when I will take one as COVID-19 has instilled a lot of fear of travel. Travel agents too are not promoting holiday destinations anymore. I think it will be a while before I will visit another place and have a good time with my family like I did in Moscow.

'I miss my ministry'

Nhards Evangelista, Filipino

I came to Dubai in the summer of 2010 at the end of my 13-year journey as an expatriate worker in Japan. This time, I came to the UAE not to work, but as a preacher and missionary. I'm a senior pastor at the Word for the World Christian Fellowship.

My most memorable moment before the coronavirus? There’s so much to say. I cherish my ministry, happy being with the people I minister to – the sharing, counseling, visitation and fellowship. I have fond memories of my family’s travels to Abu Dhabi, Sharjah and Ajman for our outreach programme.

What came afterwards, as the virus started to spread, posed a serious challenge. But those were dealt with like hiccups. Online church services have become the norm for us, every Friday. Though it’s never enough, it’s the best we can do given the situation. I still long to be in the presence of my brethren.

I miss my guests

Sharmila Dhal, UAE Editor

Some homes have a steady stream of visitors. Good or bad, ours was one of them. But ever since COVID-19 struck, not a soul has walked in through our doors. Like many things around us, we realise that this too is part of the new normal.

But do I miss my guests? Yes I do – both those from within and outside the UAE.

The last time I had house guests over was in January this year when a dear friend from Mumbai, India, called to say she was flying in with two others.

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The last time I had house guests over was in January this year when a dear friend from Mumbai, India, called to say she was flying in with two others. There was much excitement and what followed was one of our many cherished times together. We just picked up from where we had left off a couple of months earlier.

It didn’t matter that I was away at work for a good 10 hours on most days during their stay. We just knew how to work around the schedule and optimise the time we got together. What was also important was that they felt at home, with or without my being around 24/7.

There were no expectations, and no questions asked. But now? Will things be the same again? I wonder.

I just read somewhere that it is becoming commonplace for wedding guests to be asked for their COVID-19 results before they can attend the event. Bizarre as that may seem, it is perhaps a response to our bizarre times.

Now that such a precedence has been set, would I ask my next guests if they have tested for COVID-19?

Well, I don’t think I could. I would rather miss my guests for a tad longer.

I miss movies, staycations

Dona Cherian, Assistant Online Editor

January 5, 2020 was the last time I stepped into a movie theatre. My husband and I share a passion for movies and, more importantly, the movie theatre experience. And that is one thing we definitely miss. It was our once-a-week escape from the busy life here in Dubai.

While we still binge watch Netflix flows and stream movies online, it is not the same. The snacks, the planning and the actual movie – there is something special and romantic about ‘going to a movie’.

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While we still binge watch Netflix flows and stream movies online, it is not the same. The snacks, the planning and the actual movie – there is something special and romantic about ‘going to a movie’.

Another thing I miss are staycations. I am a big fan of UAE staycations as a mini treat for us after a few months. Waking up in a hotel bed and heading to brunch with no care in the world is something I miss.

However, while I am dying to do these things again, I am not comfortable yet with the idea. While cinemas have opened up and so have hotels, the relaxation aspect is missing because now there is a big task ahead of us – making sure we don’t get COVID-19. Everything has changed.

The last time I took a flight… and it was an A380!

Anupa Kurian-Murshed, Senior Digital Content Planning Editor

I’m a strange creature. Given a choice, I would stay at home but what COVID-19 has taught me is that my sense of independence is very important for my sense of well-being. I’m fine staying put, but when I choose to do so. When I want to travel, I would travel.

It was early February, faint stirrings about coronavirus outbreak in China could be heard in the newsroom but, nobody truly expected it to be the monster it turned out to be.

I was super excited, it was my Dad’s 75th birthday, and was planning a surprise visit.

It was in the middle of a project, so negotiated for a couple of days of leave and booked a night flight on Emirates – at lightning speed. As I would land in the early hours of the morning, gave my Mum a quick heads up.

A day’s work followed by some quick packing, and I was at the airport ready for lift-off. As I waited, and the clock ticked away, sleep came calling. So, by the time the flight boarding was called, I was ready to just fold into my seat and snooze through. At the entrance, the Emirates flight crew took a look at my boarding card and asked me to keep moving and take the stairs. Sleep dissipated in seconds! Stairs? What stairs?

In fact, the journey helped me stay refreshed for the two days at home, despite the low sleep levels. Dad was thrilled. The birthday celebrations a hit. And then, it was back to Dubai.

As I stepped off, I thought of the next time my husband and I would take an A380 – plans were forming in my head as I walked down the tarmac. Six months down the line, those plans have faded away and all that remain are the memories of a flight in February. The skies are calling…

When the light of the world blew out

Sadiq Shaban, Deputy Opinion Editor

It was early March. Friday nights were exclusively for shisha with friends. That weekend now seems like a light year ago. The four of us got together at our usual hangout. Speculation was rife that countries in Europe were gripped by a virus that seemed to have travelled all the way from China. There was a bit of anxiety but nothing seemed amiss.

It was business as usual. Terms like social distancing and face covering were yet to enter our discourse.

We discussed sport and summer plans. The outdoor shisha bar shone in the night. They have those Arabic fanous lights that glimmer, radiating many colours that give the place a surreal feel. There was smoke everywhere. People laughed.

I drove on with the fairy lights at the shisha lounge twinkling in my eyes. That was the last I have seen those lights this year.

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Since it is an open setting, loungers sat under Arabian-style tents and decorated palm trees. We took long drags. A gaggle of girls devoured tabbouleh, hummus and hot mezzes on the next table. The world seemed beautiful.

One friend announced that he was headed to Europe for a vacation in five weeks. Little did we know that the world was going on a lockdown mode in those coming weeks and the very notion of things we took for granted — vacation, travel, socialising, getaway et al — was set to change. I look back at those moments now and it feels almost like another age.

The fanous — also called the light of the world — continued to burn. It was getting late. We departed well past midnight with a promise to meet the next week. On my way back, I noticed grape mint on my breath. A mild breeze wafted. Some fitness freaks were out running even at that hour. A few miles ahead, night creatures sipped their karak. I drove on with the fairy lights at the shisha lounge twinkling in my eyes. That was the last I have seen those lights this year.

‘I don’t know, dad’

Biju Mathew, Online Editor

The smell of filtered coffee at the corner shop, omelette-bread roll, the chit-chat, the warm smile that spoke a thousand words…there are hundreds of things that can be included on the list of things that COVID-19 pandemic washed away.

How many more days do I have to wait before the path home is paved? How many more months do I have to wait before I could see that smile again?

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However, one single moment stands out for me: the toothless smile of my elderly parents while waving goodbye, the warm hugs of my children and the droopy face and teary eyes of my wife.

It has been more than seven months since I last saw them. While heading off to Dubai from my hometown in the south Indian state of Kerala, I never expected that the next meeting would be a distant reality. The once in three months brief family visits that the short flying distance offered have been thwarted by the pandemic gale force.

How many more days do I have to wait before the path home is paved? How many more months do I have to wait before I could see that smile again?

Even though I chat with my family at least twice a day, distance makes the longing even more painful.

Almost every day, my father asks me when I would be coming home. The answer as usual would be: ‘I don’t know, dad’.

The last wave

Alex Abraham, Senior Associate Editor

It began many years ago when my son just started going to playschool. I enjoyed waiting for the school bus, many times with my son in my arms, the chatter with other fathers and watching the expressions of the children as they bid goodbye to their parents. And I watched them run and play in the few minutes that they had, while the fathers wished that schools did not start so early in the morning.

Over the years, I developed a rapport with the bus driver, helped children cross the road if they missed the school bus, and asked them about their plans for the years that lay ahead.

Most parents will agree that when children are small, they wave with all the energy that they have, as if trying to outdo the other students on the bus. My son would do that too, sometimes clambering over the others to see me and move his hands as if he were cleaning the window.

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But it was the wave that I looked forward to the most – my son waving to me from the school bus, watching me till the bus turned the corner. Most parents will agree that when children are small, they wave with all the energy that they have, as if trying to outdo the other students on the bus. My son would do that too, sometimes clambering over the others to see me and move his hands as if he were cleaning the window.

But that was 10 years ago. That gigantic wave of a tiny hand has now been replaced by a furtive glance and a gentle twist of the wrist, akin to a classy royal wave. The reason is simple – with other teens watching, it is better to maintain a certain amount of decorum.

It is that simple but meaningful wave that I missed during the lockdown. When my son moved his wrist ever so gently that morning in the first week of March, little did I know that it would be another five months before I would see this again.

My son goes back to school in two weeks. Although I have been told many times not to accompany him to the bus stop, the thought of 'the wave' will encourage me to take those few extra steps in the morning.

Can’t see my daughter, damn you coronavirus

Ashfaq Ahmed, Senior Assistant Editor

It was a hard decision. But we sent our daughter to study abroad in 2015 and my only consolation is her regular visits home. She travels to Dubai at least twice a year – during spring and summer breaks.

She could not come to see us this summer due to COVID-19 restrictions. She is studying medicine at Charles University in Czech Republic and does not want to risk travelling for fear of losing time for her studies for final-year exams.

Last time, she visited us during her spring break in February this year, well before the coronavirus fear caught the world’s attention. Those were the most cherished movements for me this year. Her visit makes us all happy as she lightens up our home with her charming and cheerful personality.

Being a disciplined person, she is a role model for her younger siblings who have great regard for their elder sister. I must admit that they are more disciplined whenever she is around.

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Her two younger brothers also patiently wait for her visit. My wife and our three chidren go out more often for dinner and have quality family time. Although, our daughter has seen it all during her more than two-decade stay in the UAE, she never misses the chance to visit theme parks and, of course, Dubai’s gleaming shopping malls, which she admires more after living in a small Eastern European town.

Her presence keeps her mother on her toes as she tries to make up for ‘mom’s food’, which she misses abroad. Being a disciplined person, she is a role model for her younger siblings who have great regard for their elder sister. I must admit that they are more disciplined whenever she is around.

I also miss her advice on keeping good health and having ‘proper’ meals. Her weight loss and healthy lifestyle tips are priceless, though we do not follow them most of the time. Without her, we have nothing much to do this summer. I cannot wait to hear her giggles and loud laughs echoing in the house. Damn you coronavirus. Go away.

My last… party

Yousra Zaki, Assistant Editor Features

I feel a little silly talking about partying, while some of my fellow writers are sharing more “meaningful lasts.”

Luckily, I have my family around me and my life is basically back to normal. So I can’t say that I miss going out, riding my bike, eating at restaurants, or seeing my family. But the one thing that isn’t really, officially back is going out to party.

It was the final weekend before everyone was asked to stay home, I had my best friends flying in from Amsterdam. I wouldn’t consider myself a party girl, because I usually get pretty tired by 11pm but they came with a mission to partayy. Since they were only here for five days, we had to make the most out of their time.

Anxiety over the spread of the coronavirus at this point had disrupted schools, nurseries, travel, and major global events. Clubs and restaurants however, were still open and people weren’t feeling too nervous yet. So our social plans were on a tight schedule.

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Anxiety over the spread of the coronavirus at this point had disrupted schools, nurseries, travel, and major global events. Clubs and restaurants however, were still open and people weren’t feeling too nervous yet. So our social plans were on a tight schedule.

We went clubbing at Base on Thursday night, a party brunch at Lock Stock and Barrel on Friday morning, clubbing again on Friday night at Sky Bar and an all-day pool party on Saturday. I was exhausted, sleep deprived and I had spent way too much money. But I couldn’t have been luckier that my last weekend out, was my most socially fueled.

Like I said, there were corona fears then, so I tried my best to not to get close to people and I used hand sanitizer regularly throughout the nights. Honestly, it was naïve of me to think I wouldn’t have gotten COVID, if someone there had it, because it was a lovely mess of humans. Like I said, I was lucky I got to have a blast with my besties and still get out of it disease free.

I doubt proper party culture will be back in Dubai anytime soon. But I sometimes still scroll back and watch videos to remind myself of how life once was.

La Mer, ‘La Dolce Vita’: My last hurrah

Sanjib Kumar Das, Assistant Editor

On my Emirates flight back from Kolkata to Dubai, people with face masks were still terribly outnumbered by those who didn’t have one, and the basanti pulao (saffron rice) and chicken curry were lip-smacking enough to make me forget that I ever needed to keep the mask on – at all! In-flight dining was still very much on and social distancing was nowhere near being the buzzword that it turned out to be in the ensuing months.

I still remember, I landed on a Thursday afternoon, sometime in early March, and the following day, two friends landed up at my doorstep in Al Barsha with not a request but a command: “We are off to La Mer to soak up the sea and some brunch. Get those shorts, a towel and jump in!”

And even before I could even try and reason with them that I had an afternoon shift to take care of, we were a quarter of a mile down Jumeirah Road, towards one of the UAE’s most upscale public beaches.

Once there, a sea of humanity greeted. There were men, women, children, even newborns, all exorcising their ‘Vitamin D deficiency syndromes’ under the hot mid-spring sun, even as a hint of a nip in the air kept the spirits high. There was this couple sitting hand in hand under a canopy and looking out at the vast turquoise blue stretch of nothingness called the Arabian Sea that lay before their eyes. There were these merry men in their late-20s or early 30s busy keeping pace with the vocals as one of their group members kept rekindling memories of Michael Learns to Rock with ‘Maybe you won’t tell me why …’

And even before I could soak up the sights and sounds around me more fully, I realised I was already fooling around with my buddies in waist-deep water!

About half an hour later, as I was munching on to some chicken kebabs at a beachfront Indian streetfood restaurant, I glanced at my wristwatch and was wondering how many people might be having their masks on as yet another Emirates flight was probably about to touch down at DXB from Kolkata!

The front-page headlines had continued to be scary for quite some time and so were the news on television. And yet, right in front of me, I had people, self included, making the most of a perfect Friday afternoon under a bright hot sun and the blue waters of the sea for company. Not a mask in sight, not a single glove-clad pair of hands seen anywhere.

Five months on, when I today think of that Friday afternoon in March, it almost feels like life in some previous birth! This is a different world we are now living in, with the surreal being seen as the “new normal”; while that March afternoon at La Mer was a Federico Felliniesque brush with La Dolce Vita (the sweet life) – right in the heart of Dubai.

The last time I went out with my son

Evangeline Elsa, Social Media Editor

In the last six months, my seven-year-old and I have made a long list of activities to do, for when “coronavirus gets over”. The last time we stepped out of our home together was 171+ days ago, on February 28. It was a Friday, a day that used to be reserved for fun mum-and-son activities, before the pandemic hit and changed everything.

We went out and shopped for new summer clothes, because summers hadn’t started yet. Late afternoon, we went for a picnic at Al Barsha Park, where we read books, ate sandwiches and cycled around on a rented park tricycle. I then watched him play with other children in the sandpit, on swings and slides till darkness feel, and it was time to go home.

Like other children, he too protested, to be allowed to play “for ten more minutes”. If I knew, we wouldn’t be returning anytime soon, I would have let him.

The following week, news started trickling in about the new virus that had killed people in China, and was spreading to different countries. Spring break, due to begin on March 29, began on March 8 instead. Schools said it would last two weeks.

Like other parents, we explained to our son that he had to stay in till “coronavirus goes away”.

Remember when they said the summer heat will help kill the coronavirus? Last week, I decided to use the new summer clothes at home.

A good thing that did come out of this, and I am sure many working mothers will agree, is that we got to see our children a lot more, working from home.

Now, schools are about to open. While he prefers physical school over online classes, I am unsure about sending my little one back in masks and gloves. Will he really keep his mask on? Will he be careful not to touch commonly touched surfaces and wash his hands? I don’t want to take a chance.

Anyway, once this ends, the first few places on his list are the beach, the park, and the green maze inside Sharjah’s Al Noor Island.

Dreaming of home

Cesar Valondo, Editorial Staff

I had always dreamt of watching my children grow, from the day they were born. This dream became quite elusive. In September 2005, when I flew to Dubai, my eldest daughter was only five years old.

My second daughter was four. Years went by and I had my third daughter. In the last 15 years, I was not always there to watch them grow as I come home only once every year. It’s a price I have to pay for my choice.

Another miracle came in 2018: We had my 4th child, a boy. It felt like I became a father again for the first time. I’ve waited 18 years for this moment, which I thought would never come.

Before the coronavirus hit, the last memorable moment I had was being with my son. The coronavirus was already making its rounds and I clearly remember making fun of my one-year old son wearing a facemask.

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Before the coronavirus hit, the last memorable moment I had was being with my son. The coronavirus was already making its rounds and I clearly remember making fun of my one-year old son wearing a facemask.

Watching my son in his sleep as I wake up in the morning was priceless. At the end of each working day, going home was exciting. I know he’s there waiting for me. Weekends were superb, as I have the whole day with him.

In February 2020, before the virus spread across the world, my wife and our son flew back to the Philippines, along with my mother, who stayed with us for a while. I stayed behind in Dubai. The plan was for me to follow them later, in March, in time for my son’s second birthday.

That plan did not pan out. The coronavirus scuttled everything: Flights were suspended, with lockdowns imposed everywhere. It’s been almost half a year now that I haven’t been with my son. Given the situation, I don’t really know when I could see him — and my whole family — again. Flights are being reopened. I still hope someday soon, when things get better, I can book a seat and fly home, where the heart is.

[Compiled, edited by Jay Hilotin, Senior Assistant Editor]