​​The Stellenbosch University Transformation Office recently put out a call to members of the university community to write about their experiences during #LockdownSA. Babalwa Gusha is the Programme Coordinator of the university's Transformation Office and she had to make the difficult decision of whether to travel to her family in another province or not. Here is her story: When President Ramaphosa announced the national lockdown on the evening of 23 March 2020, I must admit that I had not come to terms with the seriousness of the pandemic yet. At that stage, even though my colleague and I had a breakfast meeting at an uncharacteristically empty restaurant on Ryneveld Street the morning of the announcement, my mind had not begun to grapple with the implications of the novel corona virus on my day-to-day life going forward. Our waitron, in between check‑ins, told us that many of their colleagues were told not to come to work due to the very low customer turnout. Their restaurant management was planning a complete halt of operations and they were all preparing themselves for a logistical and financial nightmare.When my line manager advised that we would be working from home, I started making plans to head home to be in isolation with my family in the Eastern Cape. I could not think of anything worse than being in lockdown 700 km away from home. I would not be able to stomach 21 days of taking my sister's word that they were taking care of themselves and my mother. I grew up with these folk, and if the quarrels about whose turn it was to do the dishes, or to cook or clean were anything to go by, I knew they needed me to keep them alive.Although I usually leave 'the Colony' (Stellenbosch) in the early hours of the morning when I head home to Grahamstown in the Eastern Cape, this time I overslept and left just after 6 am. In retrospect, had I left when I initially planned I would not have had the opportunity to observe human interactions on the garden route in the lead‑up to lockdown. Like most cautious lone drivers who last did a pre-trip inspection on the day they took their driving test, I went to my usual garage to get my tyre pressure checked, water and oil, etcetera. I have lived in the area for just over two years now and am familiar with most of the staff who work there; some of them are my 'home boys'. It was only during my conversation with the petrol attendant that my positionality sunk in for me. Xolani mocked me for being up so early asking me “Uvelaphi nah wethu ngentseni?" suggesting that I was doing the drive of shame back to my place after an adult sleepover. After we laughed this off, I told him that I was heading home. The conversation that Xolani and I had highlighted many uncomfortable truths to me about my positionality and the privileges I enjoy as a result. That I could afford to go home, that I had a home I wanted to go home to, and that I should be grateful for seemingly insignificant blessings I forget when pondering about how my life could be better. Xolani influenced my decision to tip petrol attendants on my journey generously. I became mindful of the fact that during lockdown petrol attendants would be considered essential workers and would continue to be on duty. That owing to travel restrictions and people working from home, the number of motorists filling up was going to drop significantly and that this would have a ripple effect on the amount that petrol attendants would get in tips to supplement their already low incomes. So I left the Western Cape a day before the national lockdown was instituted. The trip along the garden route was as beautiful as always, but this time around, the atmosphere in the towns I passed was almost gloomy and uncertain – punctuated with bursts of dismissive humour and the “ons sal more sien" which the Knysna petrol attendant shared with me, and reiterated by the women I spoke to at the public amenities of Storms River Pass. I was also pleasantly surprised to find that being single had its benefits during a pandemic, when I was given priority in a long line of cars waiting to be screened for possible exposure to the virus at the toll border between the Eastern and Western Cape, as I had no passengers in my car. Of course I had to stop at the Nanaga farm stall, the best one in the country. No trip back home would be complete without stopping at this provincial favourite. It was lunchtime when I reached my pit stop, but the number of customers could not have been more than 15, a dismal turnout for this Eastern Cape gem. There was an older man playing the fool pretending to have an uncontrollable loud sneeze, which we all chuckled and chirped about while we took our pick of the best pies, a fine selection of biltong, artisanal beverages and other indulgences. COVID‑19 was still a topic of banter some 80 km from home, but it was clear that even though we laughed about things, many people were not taking chances. From what I could gather eavesdropping on conversations in the isles and queue, nearly everyone was travelling to be with family during lockdown. Many stopped at the farm stall to stock up on snacks for the remainder of the journey or to enjoy during self‑isolation. When my sister and I later went shopping at our local Pick n Pay for lockdown essentials sporting WC number plates, we stuck out like sore thumbs, inviting curious stares as to why in heaven's name I had brought this virus with me to kill off the entire town. We bumped into old friends as we waited in line and conversed loudly and animatedly from a distance, because I am high risk and fall under 'you people'. Thoko and Sylvester made sure the people I remained behind with in the queue waiting patiently to enter the store were wary of me, and I had to defend my decision to come home to a long line of them, while my two friends drove off chuckling. In my personal interactions with people in my home town, the sentiment that I get is that we are sitting ducks at the mercy of those who choose to ignore directives and are travelling into the Eastern Cape from big cities, potentially bringing the virus with them – and that people like me were selfish in doing so. In the same breath, those who are informed about COVID‑19, its progression and the implications for individuals and collectives, understand the need to be with loved ones during this time. Adjusting to life in isolation with family deserves its own reflection article, as I am learning a lot about my family, their personality inclinations and habits, and about myself too. During this time, I am overcome with enormous gratitude towards my mother and the home she has made for my sisters and I. This space has become a bit of a retreat for me to pause, lick my wounds and reflect on what is important, and what my contribution will be in spaces dedicated to new ways of thinking following this pandemic. In retrospect, I am glad I came home. I would do it again, no question about it.