In case the name wasn’t a dead giveaway, I’m a Ugandan.

And if there’s anything we are good at, it’s predicting the future. Some have taken this and turned profits while others are comfy with receiving acclaim. Me? Well, I’m not charismatic or anything and I can’t rock a two-piece suit. So I’ll give my predictions away for free. I’m like Nikola Tesla that way…. or a struggling artist.

But please, don’t feel bad for me. Let’s dive right into what lies ahead – The new normal

The new normal, I suspect, will see a massive shift in the status quo. Yes, I know, we’re working from home – making sure we’re indoors by 7pm, and kudos on pulling that off despite, and you no doubt have told everyone this, your inherent extrovert tendencies.

But that shall pass. And then what?

That there, friend, is where the new normal begins.

“Business as usual” will not be the typical 9-5 routine.
Yes, you will wake up and tick the boxes; bathe, brush your teeth, realise you haven’t figured out what you intend to wear to work, pick something out, cuss out the power company for load shedding just as you flicked the switch on so you could press your clothes and leave the house.

Transport

You will have to decide how you’ll get to work. Boda-boda, Matatu or a private vehicle of some sort?

The boda-boda guy will be readily available, but you’ll remember he once remarked that “CORONA” was a disease for people who had travelled and didn’t bother to wear a mask or use sanitizer.

So, that will fall to you. You’ll need to move about with a mask and sanitizer, and maybe a pair of surgical gloves to be sure. You know as well as I do, you will second guess yourself after holding the back of the seat to support yourself. Who gripped it before you? Had they sanitized?  

And dear lord, what else will the wind carry to you along with the boda-boda riders’ words as he engages you in a conversation about how things have changed? Was that, spit… sweat… a raindrop?

Alright, so you will decide to skip the boda and fire up that app you like, ordering a ride (making sure the driver’s stars and vehicle meet your standards) and then you will wait. However, waiting has an annoying tendency to give people time to think.

And that’s exactly what you’ll do…you’ll think about who else has been in that vehicle.

You’ll wonder, “Does ‘4.7 Star Pato’ do airport pick-ups and drop-offs? Where are his passengers from? Do they wear masks, apply sanitizer, pay by card? Are they chatty and engaging, offering Pato a hearty laugh now and then, slapping his shoulder for emphasis?”

So, you’ll cancel that trip. Yes, you’ll be okay with the cancellation fee, reasoning it’s a small price to pay. Probably cheaper than the alternative, if we’re being honest.

You’ll toy with the idea of bumming a ride from a neighbour/friend, but previous experience with this sort of arrangement will make you reconsider. The last thing you’ll need is to get pulled into is a debate with yourself over how much you should contribute towards fuel. And if the car looks a little bit messy, should you offer to pay to have it washed? But with what money? You’ll have used quite a bit to get through the lockdown, so the fewer random acts of charity, you get pulled into, the better. What if there’s another lockdown?

On the other hand, you did walk to get wherever you needed to during the lockdown, so it stands to reason that you’re fitter than you’ve ever been. Surely you can walk to work. Google Maps suggests that it is, in fact, possible to pull off, but you’ll likely get to work just in time to set off for home. Suddenly taking on that spiffy job out of town won’t seem as cool as it did on paper.

You’ll notice you’re getting late for work now, so against your better judgement, you’ll just flag a taxi down and jump in. You won’t look around because, well, your paranoia will get the best of you. Your mind will go into overdrive and you’ll be convinced that the lady who’ll brush against you as she steps out looks like the kind of person who interacts with truck drivers from beyond the border, the bloke sitting behind you, you will almost swear, will look like a person suppressing a nasty coughing fit.

You’ll observe, with a little bit of relief, that there’s some sanitizer being offered by the conductor as you step out and hand him the fare. You’ll also note that the change being offered looks it’s been passed through various generations

You’ll smile politely and tell him he can keep the change. He’ll be extremely grateful and grab your hand, giving it a firm sweaty shake it as he expresses his gratitude.

No matter, you’ll sort this out when you get to the office bathroom. Forget washing your hands for 20 seconds, you’ll give 110% and sneak in 100 more.

Next up…The office

Special thanks to Justin Clark on Unsplash for that sweet ominous picture at the top of this post