How was I to know, December 2019, peacefully languishing in New Zealand, preparing for a three-month stint in Vietnam as an English teacher, that whispers I had been hearing of an unknown virus in China, were to presently become vociferous pleas from governments around the world?

The pandemic that began as Coronavirus, affectionately known by unaffected Viets as ‘Koh-roe-nah’ murmured amid hushed snickers whenever someone was heard coughing, sniffing, or sneezing (Vietnamese never seemed to take the outbreak seriously), would soon evolve into the more inimical COVID-19 or, for those of us who detest flashy acronyms, Novel Coronavirus.

My first month, late December to mid-January, was spent in Go Vap, Saigon, where, surrounded by primarily White faces, I learned how to best teach English to supple Vietnamese minds. While the entire class struggled to keep up with the gargantuan workload and ultimately, to complete the course – ordinarily four weeks of studies condensed into a rapidly deteriorating three-week headache, in order to be finished in time for Vietnam’s Tet holiday, Lunar New Year – I think, we all did, albeit eventually (one extra week was given to submit written assignments), complete the course.

Nobody, do I recall, throughout the course and up to our estrangement, so much as mentioned Coronavirus.

Fatigued and relieved, upon assuagement of the aforementioned headache, all teachers largely went our separate ways. Many (freshly TESOL authenticated) of the group stayed on in Saigon, entranced as they likely had been by stories of ‘bright lights and good times in Ho Chi Minh City’ while some travelled to other Vietnam cities to ply their trade and a few travelled abroad; yet I, advantaged by my previous knowledge of the country, its customs and indeed, its latent underbelly, promptly boarded a bus for a nine hour excursion to the only place in Vietnam that has not (has yet to…?) screwed me over.

Nobody, do I recall, throughout the course and up to our estrangement, so much as mentioned Coronavirus.

Tet holiday amid the delightful rural backdrop of Buon Ma Thuot city, staying at the Phuong Anh hotel on Y Nue (‘Enway’) street; wonderful accommodation, mind-blowing experience. These guys, the locals, they get up, they drink beer, they eat spicy food, they smoke cigarettes, they drink more beer and they smoke more cigarettes, they sing karaoke; then it’s lunchtime. Here they eat more food, drink more beer and smoke more cigarettes, along with more karaoke; then they sleep for a while, and I make my escape (and my God, for someone who doesn’t drink beer, I sure drank a lot of beer).

The Vietnamese love their karaoke; every house has a massive sound system, for karaoke. Just for karaoke. They love it, can’t get enough of it and, most of them, do sing remarkably well, so it’s not all bad.

Imagine my surprise to wake up one day and find that Coronavirus had grown to epidemic proportions; admittedly, it’s difficult to accurately keep track of what’s going on in the world when you’re either drunk or sleeping off too much Vietnamese salami and garlic cloves.

Following Tet holiday, in order to limit the spread of this, apparently pervasive, seemingly ubiquitous, ostensibly nefarious, evidently contagious virus, English centres around Vietnam, including my chosen location, Buon Ma Thuot, did not reopen.

It occurred to me that, given I had come to Vietnam to work, I needed to start making money. During Tet I had established many relationships with the, disarmingly warm and unabashedly friendly, people and families of Buon Ma Thuot where, upon hearing my introduction, ‘…Tim Walker from New Zealand, in Vietnam for three months teaching English…’ (‘…Den doy la, Tim, den bang la zee … Doy vo, New Zealand … Bar gap, Vietnam, doy, yow vien…’), their eyes would light up; at the present time with no other means of helping their child/ren learn English, seemingly, I came as necessary relief.

The malady known as Coronavirus had since been renamed; Novel Coronavirus, or COVID-19, exemplified viral evolution and was supposedly much worse than the predecessor.

People around the world were now in hysterics; a pandemic had arisen unlike anything anybody in this modern human race had experienced and, while realistically it was little more severe than a heavy chest cold or pneumonia, the fact that it was a never-before-seen virus, thus there was no one-shot cure from our friends at the Almighty Medical Profession, had most people panicking terribly.

Half a world away from my family in New Zealand, languishing in Buon Ma Thuot, Vietnam – a country with similar landmass but close to twenty times the populous of New Zealand I observed the respective rates of COVID-19 increase at similar speeds – with livestream radio broadcasting almost constantly through my laptop (students were unflustered by my New Zealand Rock radio playing quietly behind their PowerPoint displayed English tutorial), through regular news updates I readily kept up with goings on at home.

There was talk at this point of countries closing borders to tourism, and some airlines, particularly in China, from where this bedlam had started, were now grounding flights; an unsurprising transpiration, therefore, was the cancellation of my return flight with China Southern airlines.

My Helloworld travel agent assured my he would find another flight, which he did, scheduled for just three days after the first.

Three days later I left the peaceful serenity of Buon Ma Thuot for the anarchy of Saigon, in preparation to catch my new flight home.

Nine hours later, Ho Chi Minh City Disrict 1, I checked into the most squalid hotel I had ever seen; few hours after that my latest flight was cancelled.

No reason to stay amid the filth and disease of Saigon, packing my hand sanitiser and face mask, I boarded another bus back to Buon Ma Thuot.

Nine hours after that, checked back into the luxury of the Tram Anh hotel on Nguyen Cong Tru (Wen Com Chu), Buon Ma Thuot, paying almost half what those Saigon cretins charged for their grotty little hovel in Ho Chi Minh City District 1, I am again at (relative) peace.

Jut now hoping to secure a temporary Visa to legitimise my stay, yet another electricity failure cuts power to lights, air conditioning, fans and of course, Vietnam’s blessed WIFI.

Cut Rock radio to increase laptop battery life and now, only the sounds of rattling generators and sparse Vietnamese traffic can be heard outside my hotel.

So, how long to I intend to be here?

How long does COVID-19 intend to be here?

I don’t intend to be here at all.

I am just here while everyone else is there.

Making the most of the situation I now face.

I plan to resume private tutorials in the coming days.

Let’s see what Corona has to say about that.

 

 

Article by Tim Walker

Edited by Tam Purare

Photography by Vy Nam Yee