I lost a friend to Covid-19 a year or so ago. We weren’t close, and it had been years since I last met him, but that doesn’t take away from the fact that this was someone I had known for a long time. He was a delightful man: warm, kind, with a smile that still appears before me if I close my eyes. He left behind a wife and two children. I never had an opportunity to meet them but have thought of them often since I heard of his passing.

We accept death easily when it doesn’t affect our personal lives in any way. It’s easier in a country like ours where thousands die unloved and ignored on a daily basis, mere statistics in a poverty-ridden nation. I can’t come to terms with the loss of my friend though, because this wasn’t supposed to happen. He had a secure life and the means to save himself. I don’t know if he was vaccinated but he should have had access to medical care. And yet, because this is a virus that we still have little control over, he couldn’t be saved.