Nasibo Kabale is a health journalist with the Nation Media Group and a mother. She speaks about her experience in covering the coronavirus pandemic.
“I am typing this from my office desk. I have just finished my Iftar meal to break the fast during this Ramadhan period. On normal days, I would have had this meal with my family.
But it’s almost two months now since we lost the normalcy. I am a health journalist and on the frontline to report on the Covid-19 pandemic.
I have been a health journalist for five years now and reported on many big stories, like the shortage of blood in our blood banks and the expiry of drugs worth billions of shillings in Kemsa warehouses.
But the last few weeks have been the most critical in my career. I have told stories from my house, the newsroom, in the streets, and from the isolation wards. My resilience has been tested and my perspective shifted.
When the pandemic frost broke out in Wuhan, China, we were reporting it as a ‘flu’ in China. I was following it up out of curiosity than anything else.
It was not until the numbers started rising in Wuhan that it registered that this was a big deal.
Before the first case was reported in Kenya, I made various trips to the airport to see how the port health workers were preparing, and I attended a training session to get a glimpse of what measures they were undertaking.
While this was happening, the virus was snaking its way into the continent and the country.
TAKING PRECAUTION
This pandemic has challenged me and every day the one question that lingers on is: ‘how far are you willing to go to tell the story against the backdrop of ‘no story is worth dying for’?’
This is one story that cannot be done from the confines of the newsroom or the comfort of my living room. I have had to put the risks aside and tell the stories that will bring a positive impact to all.
I have a three-year-old daughter and I get worried when I think of myself being led to a quarantine centre and her wondering, ‘where is mama?’
So I have been taking the necessary precautions and saying a special morning and evening prayer asking for protection and guidance.
I also carry sanitiser and spray my shoes and clothes before entering the house. I also don’t allow my daughter to come close to me before I take a shower and change.
When my colleagues and I were first informed that we will be frontline reporters in Covid-19 news, I didn’t give much thought to what that meant to myself or my family.
My younger brother is the most concerned. He thinks that I should not be doing this. My daughter wonders why I have to go to work every morning and come back late in the evening rather than spend time with her or just work from home like other moms. It has not been a light garment to wear.
BIGGEST RISK
My typical day involves attending the daily briefings by the Ministry of Health, researching to ensure I am giving facts and writing the stories.
I have to ensure I get the terminologies right. Now, most people are using the word “quarantine” and confusing it or interchanging it for isolation.
So my coverage also entails enlightening society on the usage of such terms.
Since the outbreak affects all sectors, I have had to work with reporters on other beats – such as crime – to produce a good copy.
A few days ago, I was among the journalists who went into the isolation wards, where Covid-19 patients are receiving medications. This I consider the biggest risk I have taken in my career.
At first I thought of it as just another story until a friend asked if I was mentally ready for the outcome. I think that was the moment it dawned on me that this is not just another story.
It is like a chord with multiple notes. Yet each mattered. I decided not to tell my family about the visit because I did not want them to dissuade me from doing it.
As I wore the protective gear, I couldn’t help but think of the medics who have to do this at least twice every day. There was an element of danger but at the same time a sense of nobility.
GIVING COMFORT
I was a little scared but the patients had been informed so it eased my fear. The idea was to prepare the patients so that they don’t feel like their rights were being violated, and to give them time to make a choice – to see us or not.
As I spoke to the patients, it dawned on me that I was not there just as a journalist but also as a much-needed friend and a fellow human to remind them that they were not alone in this fight.
Most of the patients had their headphones on and were on their laptops going about their business. I did not want to make them feel like animals in a circus being looked at from the screen, so I tried my best to talk to them.
I kept saying to them, “everything, will be alright, and get well soon”. I did not realise how much I kept repeating those words, but it was hard to find the right words.
I am yet to test for corona but I’ve seen people getting tested and it looks uncomfortable. I hope I never need to test.
If there’s anything that this coverage has taught me is that to fight coronavirus, we have to tell the story in the stories. And I am here for it.”