The Needful

There is an expression in Sri Lanka called "doing the needful." The "needful" is anything required to complete a specific task or request.

For example, if I ask my staff to complete the TPS report by Wednesday,  they will reply, "Sure, Paul. I'll do the needful."

What I've come to learn is doing the needful rarely involves also doing the thoughtful. Doing the needful also often creates more work because the needful was so hastily and shoddily done in the first place. Doing the needful to replace an air conditioning unit could mean flooding the bedroom when the condensate line isn't attached. The air conditioner is working, but at what cost?

Much of Sri Lanka's response to the pandemic has been to do the needful.  People wear masks in public, but they wear them under their chin or fail to cover their nose. At some point during the pandemic, I guess people thought the virus was spread on the soles of your shoes? Many establishments now still have a bleach-soaked rubber mat at the entrance your supposed to walk over to disinfect the bottoms of your feet. Security guards at grocery stores and banks take your temperature with an electric wand, waving it over the back of your hand so quickly and so haphazardly there is no possible way it could have registered your temperature accurately. 

Social distancing was never going to be a thing in a South Asian society, where the only way to get anything done is to crowd yourself to the front of the line. The tendency to non-socially distance is so deeply engraved in the culture's collective subconscious, I occasionally find myself the one of only two people walking on the sidewalk or road and the other person is making a bee line straight towards me, only to do a fly by mere inches from me despite my subtle efforts to maintain two meters distance. 

Many stores and businesses have a QR code posted on the front door. I think the idea is you scan the QR code into your phone and if someone who also scanned the code contracts the virus you will be traced as a possible contact of that person. This is a great idea in theory, but only really would work in a place that was actively testing for the virus or contact tracing. 

In Sri Lanka's defense, their number of health professionals is limited. Once vaccines arrived, these professionals were pulled from testing and contact tracing to administering vaccinations,  a much more important endeavor. The government lauds a downward trend in cases resulting from discontinuing PCR testing. 

There's a lot to be frustrated by, especially when Elise and I spend so much energy trying to do more than the needful, trying to answer questions we don't know the answers to, trying to navigate this pandemic as best we can on a developing island nation half a world from home. 

Peter went back to school this week when schools opened back up to 5th, 11th, and 12th graders. The decision to send him back to school was only rhe latest in a long string of excruciatingly difficult decisions with no clear right or wrong answer. We decided to send him back based on the fact the school would still be relatively empty but weren't yet comfortable putting him on the school bus which refuses to open its windows besides every health organization in the world advising that is one of the easiest ways to reduce the risk of infection. Open a window. That decision -- again, we have no way of knowing if it is the right one -- has either Elise or I in the car two hours a day driving Peter to school in rush hour traffic twice a day. I would never complain about doing it knowing thats a decision Elise and I made to keep him healthy and safe. It's just the latest chapter in the evolving story of how we are managing through the pandemic.

Schools are supposed to fully reopen after spring break. One remnant of the 25-year civil war in Sri Lanka is the fact almost every student is driven to school individually.  School buss were frequently targeted by terrorists. Now, those with the means, stull drive their kids to school, creating a traffic nightmare during drop off in the morning and pick up in the afternoon. Though I'm deign to speak too pejoratively of this now as I've joined the throng, hesitant to put my own son on a bus, choosing to out one more car on the road to keep him safe, not knowing where the true risk lies. 

Sri Lankans are starting to receive the vaccine. Elise and I have yet to be vaccinated but we hope to be soon. There does seem to be a light at the end of the tunnel. Some days, despite all the death and suffering wrought by the pandemic, I feel guilty for perhaps not wanting some aspects of it to end. The end of the pandemic will mean I have to go back to the office, put on a suit, commute, shave. I will no longer be able to work from the dining room table,  Elise in the next room, painting at her easel, the kids upstairs,  Clementine asking me how to spell 'marine biology', "Is that one word or two?" Helping her with fractions. 

Doing the needful.