In Buenos Aires, an eight-month lockdown forced more into poverty
On a quiet quarantine night at the end of March, my roommate sat at our kitchen table, looked at me and said in Castellano: “This is not our first crisis.” The usually busy cobblestone street below was bare except for a lone police officer.
President Alberto Fernandez had recently announced the first two-week extension of a strict two-week quarantine for the Buenos Aires capital area, including the city. Many more would follow. “We will get through this. Argentines are experts at crises,” said my roommate.
Fast forward eight months to this past Sunday. From our kitchen window, in the neighbourhood of San Telmo, we could see masked shoppers below walking through the recently reopened street fair. People browsed stalls filled with vintage clothing, plants, antiques, and football memorabilia.
Throughout the city, Porteños (Buenos Aires residents) enjoyed their lunch on makeshift patios hastily constructed by restaurants (which were allowed to reopen for outside dining back in September) or inside those with limited seating and distanced tables.
All this after our 233-day quarantine – one of the longest in the world – ended three weeks ago. Currently, social distancing and masks are encouraged on the streets and mandatory in businesses, restaurants (when not eating or drinking), and schools, which just reopened. Only essential workers can use the subway.
For many, life has begun to return to normal. Next week, my boyfriend and I will take our first trip since the pandemic started, a 35-kilometre bike trek to the nearby river delta town of Tigre. As for international travel, a rumour is circulating that borders will open on December 20. But this seems unrealistic. Some working in tourism are estimating this won't happen until February, at the earliest. Currently, only citizens of neighbouring countries, Argentines, residents of Argentina, and family of residents of Argentina can cross the borders.
However, this newfound freedom comes after months of sacrifice. Argentina’s case count was low on the day quarantine began (128 cases) and the first two and a half months of lockdown were intense. In Buenos Aires, we could only leave our houses to buy food or medicine, go to the hospital, or walk dogs.
Pre-lockdown, people had joked about coronavirus: dark humour is a common coping mechanism here. After the first confirmed case, the phrase “Bienvenido a la Argentina" or “Welcome to Argentina,” in reference to the virus, was trending on Argentine Twitter. The mood soon turned sombre following the stay-at-home order.
Most were thankful for the swift, strong response from the Government. People placed their trust in the leadership in the first few months, which was unexpected given a general distrust of government here. This is due in part, to the 2001 financial crisis and the military dictatorship of 1976–1983.
But as the case count began to rise, testing remained low, and no clear tracing program was implemented, people began to doubt the Government’s plan. After several months, people started breaking quarantine more often to visit friends and family.
Some protested against restrictions. One protest was held in May specifically against the handling of coronavirus partially made up of small business owners and medical personnel. The protesters were defying stay-at-home orders. There were two larger protests involving thousands of people in August and October (much larger than the protest in May) that were petitioning for the easing of quarantine restrictions, but they were also protesting other issues.
There’s been more outrage in the last week at the police’s use of force at Diego Maradona’s memorial to control crowds than there has been with any remaining coronavirus restrictions in Buenos Aires.
During lockdown, President Fernandez’s regular announcements of two-week quarantine extensions became the norm. Many people started to find ways around the measures. Essential workers, or those who needed to travel around Buenos Aires for their job, could apply for a permiso de circulación, a pass to move throughout the city. While many applied for legitimate reasons, others invented them or created fake passes.
One friend, an architect by trade, filled her car with paper products, her pass claiming she operated a home goods delivery business. When she drove to her architectural firm, her business partner would ride in the back and stare ahead, silent when the police would stop them to check their passes.
Other Porteños struggled to feed themselves. Before coronavirus came, Argentina was already in an economic recession. According to Government reports, eight million people relied on soup kitchens. By June, that had risen to 11 million.
Many non-profits, activist groups, and churches started soup kitchens and food donation drives, serving long lines reminiscent of 2019, right before the Argentine Senate passed a food emergency assistance bill.
Unemployment has increased, particularly in the tourism and hospitality sectors. According to the Gastronomic Hotel Business Federation (FEHGRA), an organisation that represents hotels and restaurants across Argentina, 225,000 jobs have already been lost in the industry.
A law was passed to provide government aid to the tourism sector until December 31, but now the FEHGRA, along with the Association of Tourism Hotels of the Argentine Republic, is petitioning for the aid to be extended for another 180 days.
Now that quarantine has been lifted, I see the economic impact of the pandemic (and resulting lockdown) whenever I go out for lunch. Prior to Covid, it was normal in San Telmo for one or two people to come up to diners while they were eating and ask for money. The last three times I’ve gone, several people have asked me each time. And always at least one child.
Yet the pervading attitude in Buenos Aires since the end of quarantine is one of renewed hope. New daily coronavirus case counts and deaths have been on a steady decline since October, and the economy is picking up speed.
A friend of mine recently opened a hot dog restaurant in the San Telmo Mercado, and in the last two months a lingerie store, thrift shops, and several other restaurants have opened in our neighbourhood alone. Many more businesses have opened or reopened throughout the city.
There’s still a sense that we’re all in this together, this was emphasised by the collective mourning for the passing of Maradona.
Last night I opened my kitchen window and sat down to write. As the breeze drifted in, I could hear a tango instrumental of “Yesterday” by the Beatles playing in the nearby Plaza Dorrego where people go to drink nightcap coffees and catch-up with friends. I cherished the moment of normality.
