It has been a hard few years to have family in Western Australia. On Thursday, at a late-night press conference after national cabinet, the premier, Mark McGowan, announced that his safe transition plan, which would have allowed quarantine-free travel into the state from 5 February, had been put on indefinite pause.
I exchanged muted text messages with my sister, who lives in Perth, from my home in central Victoria. We were not really surprised – relying on McGowan to open the border on schedule is a mug’s game this far into the pandemic.
My phone lit up with messages from friends who also have family in WA, but no one really had the energy to be angry any more. We’re just resigned. There’s no point booking flights in anticipation of seeing loved ones at this stage and you’re better off not agreeing to attend that wedding. We’ll see you when we see you.
The new border arrangements do include exceptions for returning West Australians and travel on compassionate grounds such as to attend a funeral or see a terminally-ill relative, but they still require you to be double vaccinated – triple if eligible – and to undergo 14 days quarantine. That’s something, but it’s not really workable for most people. And it presumes that those compassionate visits can wait, when often they can’t.
I am luckier than most. I got to spend Christmas in Perth with my sister and her family in 2020, taking advantage of the brief window between the border coming down and the Black Rock cluster. So really, what am I complaining about?
Before you head angrily to the comment section, hear this: I am not complaining at all. I know exactly why the Western Australian government has taken the decision that it has, and I understand why many of those in WA are relieved.
I am just sad and frustrated that we are still in this position, awaiting a border announcement, after two years. I’m sad that my sister and I are still exchanging resigned texts after late-night press conferences from McGowan. I’m sad that my nephew and I only speak via video calls, and that I barely know my niece.
Recently someone told me that their friend, whose grandchild lives in Perth, calls her “flat granny” as distinct from their regular granny, who they see in three dimensions.
We’re all just sick of being flat granny.
There is a conflict, in pretty much everyone I know in WA, between wanting to see family and friends in other states and overseas, and wanting to remain safely behind the barricade which has kept the pandemic at bay. Most of us who live in the eastern states also feel that conflict. My niece is too little to be vaccinated: I want her safe. I won’t risk her health for a cuddle.
But I wish we weren’t still having to do this.
As of Friday, 92.8% of Australians over 16 have had two doses of a Covid vaccine, and 28.9% of those eligible have had a booster. In kids, 75.38% of those aged 12-15 have had two shots and 21.6% of those aged 5-12 have had one dose. We have all endured long lockdowns, followed harsh restrictions, worn masks.
The Victorian premier, Daniel Andrews, in mid-2020, called the coronavirus a “wicked enemy”, and it’s only become more capricious since then.
Omicron has spread so quickly despite very high vaccination rates. Even with much lower rates of serious disease and death than previous variants, the sheer number of cases – there are more than half a million active cases in Australia right now – has put a significant number of people in hospital. Friday was the deadliest day of the pandemic so far, with 46 people with Covid dying in New South Wales alone.
In the eastern states, where the cats are out of the bag and multiplying, we focus on how for most people the virus is akin to a bad cold. Most of us now know someone, or many people, who have had Covid and recovered. Many of us have had Covid ourselves. It’s much easier to focus on the message that you’ll probably get over it if you are surrounded by those first-hand experiences than it is if you only hear about Covid on the news.
And the news is bad. Even if you’re not worried about Covid itself, you should be worried about the impact it is having on hospitals, on the capacity of ambulances and emergency wards, on supply chains.
It sucks over here – of course you don’t want to be like us. So I am not complaining about the borders. I’m just grieving for lost time.
