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Haji Ali and I: You mean there are more variants, I may need a booster shot, ah?

Haji Ali, in his loose, white short-sleeved shirt, and black and equally roomy trousers, is not one to whisper.

Even before you notice the old rectangular signboard above his restaurant, whose clear lettering stands out like a snow-white cloud in a deep-blue sky, his booming voice you would hear.

"People who are vaccinated may still be infected by the virus? And they can pass it on to others too?" he asks me incredulously.

"Yes," I say again. A few days ago, America's Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) said exactly that: Delta infection resulted in similarly high SARS-CoV-2 viral loads in vaccinated and unvaccinated people. The experience of other countries bears it out too.

It also appears, though not conclusively proven, that some vaccines may not be able to help us for longer than we hope. Hence the possibility of a third dose. And maybe a fourth and fifth?

And on Friday, the British government's official scientific advisory group published an analysis stating a variant "that causes disease at a level similar to Covid-19... but against which our current battery of... vaccines would not work" is a "realistic possibility". In plain language, the current vaccines are unlikely to vanquish this variant.

Aiyo, the notion of a forever-potion is no longer in fashion. Haji Ali's response is swift and resigned. "Like that, how lah?"

Yah, how, ah? What does endemic really mean? Will herd immunity ever be reached, or will we be merely chasing our tails for a long time to come?

Haji Ali is downcast. So am I, thinking about the fact that life is protected (for now) by vaccines, but not our way of life. We keep some, we lose some.

Not all losses are equal though. A loss to one is nothing to another.

Here are two things that Covid-19 has taken away from Haji Ali and me. They are forever gone, or close enough to this fate, unless Delta and its dastardly friends fly off into the sunset or better vaccines are invented.

FIRST, conversations in the makan shop. Haji Ali loves to talk with customers. And I, with him. A "good morning" greeting with a wave of the hand is always accompanied by a charming gap-toothed smile under a sparse white moustache.

He would waltz from table to table and sing about food and flavours, of people and their peculiarities, and of places and their prettiness. This he does in the cheery morning, quiet afternoon and the sleepy dusk.

But sometimes a little snarling does escape from the thin lips. Especially when politicians and their perversions become unbearable.

He reminds me of Andy Taylor, that folksy TV sheriff of Mayberry, North Carolina. You don't see many of his sort these days.

But gone now are those conversations that used to spice up our meals at the shop. Even if dining in restaurants is allowed, I doubt talking like we did before will be on the menu. It may be unpalatable and too risky.

SECOND, conversations with the doctor. A doctor is like a pastor. You confide in them as you do not with anyone else. So it is with Doctor Su in Jenaris.

In the small room whose walls are lined with medical material and shelves, treatment and advice are given, and fears and fellowship shared. We don't see the hands of the clock nor hear the footfalls of time marching relentlessly outside.

But with Covid-19, every second counts. Behind masks and shields, we measure the moments carefully, less we offer time to Delta carelessly.

Brisk and to the point then is our interaction. I swiftly leave with the medication I need, but without the conversation I seek.

But what are missed conversations with dear restaurateur- and doctor-friends compared with missing loved ones?

Like I said, it may be nothing to some. But it means a great deal to me. I dare say to many others too. That is why reading and learning about what may come to pass is deeply disturbing.

If what the CDC and the British scientists say is affirmed, and if perpetual vaccination be the story of our future, 'Long Covid' will mean more than what it is understood to be now.

Haji Ali and I, now slouching in spirits, can vouch for that.


The writer is NST Production Editor

The views expressed in this article are the author's own and do not necessarily reflect those of the New Straits Times

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