Day: June 1, 2025

Lockdown Diaries Nominee #32: Covid-19 Lockdown Diary by Benard Otieno

The Context: Kisumu During the Covid-19 Lockdown

In March 2020, Kenya implemented stringent lockdown measures to curb the spread of Covid-19. Kisumu, a bustling port city on the shores of Lake Victoria with a population of about 400,000, faced unprecedented restrictions. Schools closed, public transport was limited, and a dusk-to-dawn curfew silenced the vibrant markets and fish trade that define the city’s economy. For rural communities around Kisumu, like Benard’s village in Nyando, the lockdown compounded existing challenges—limited healthcare, economic precarity, and reliance on subsistence farming. Yet, as Benard’s diary reveals, these hardships also sparked ingenuity and unity among residents.

Benard, a primary school teacher at a local government school and a small-scale farmer, lived in a modest mud-brick home with his wife, Grace, and their two young children. His life before the lockdown was a delicate balance of teaching, farming maize and vegetables, and community involvement. When Kenya announced its lockdown on March 25, 2020, Benard’s world shifted dramatically. Schools shut down, his teaching income vanished, and the markets where he sold his produce were restricted. His diary, written in a mix of English and Luo, captures how these disruptions became a catalyst for personal and communal transformation.


Benard’s Story: Navigating the Early Days

Benard’s diary opens with a vivid account of the lockdown’s initial shock. “One day, I’m marking exercise books and planning lessons,” he writes, “the next, the school is closed, and the radio says stay home. No warning, no plan.” In Kisumu, the lockdown meant a 7 p.m. to 5 a.m. curfew, restricted movement, and a ban on public gatherings. For Benard, this translated to no income from teaching, limited access to markets, and the challenge of supporting his family on a small farm. “I felt like the ground was pulled from under me,” he notes. “How do you feed your children when the world stops?”

The early weeks were marked by anxiety. With schools closed, Benard’s children, Mary (8) and Peter (5), were home all day, adding to the household’s demands. Grace, a seamstress, saw her orders dwindle as customers stayed home. The family relied on their small plot of land, but with markets in Kisumu city restricted, selling surplus produce was nearly impossible. Benard describes sleepless nights worrying about food, school fees, and the virus’s spread. “We heard stories from Nairobi,” he writes. “Hospitals full, people dying. In Nyando, we had no hospital nearby. Fear was our neighbor.”


Rediscovering the Land

One of the most profound themes in Benard’s diary is his renewed connection to farming. Before the lockdown, teaching consumed most of his time, and farming was a side activity to supplement his income. With schools closed, Benard turned to his land with fresh eyes. “The farm became our lifeline,” he writes. “It wasn’t just about food—it was about hope.” He expanded his plot, planting fast-growing crops like sukuma wiki (kale), tomatoes, and beans, using seeds saved from previous harvests to cut costs.

Benard also experimented with sustainable farming techniques, inspired by YouTube tutorials accessed via his basic smartphone. He learned to make organic compost from kitchen waste and use drip irrigation with recycled plastic bottles to conserve water. “I used to think farming was for old men,” he admits. “But lockdown showed me it’s science, it’s art.” His efforts paid off, yielding enough produce to feed his family and share with neighbors struggling to afford food. This act of sharing, rooted in the Luo tradition of nyoluoro (community support), became a cornerstone of his lockdown experience.

Pro Tip: Visitors to Kisumu can explore local farming practices at Kisumu Farmers’ Market (Saturdays, free entry), where vendors sell organic produce like Benard’s, offering a taste of Nyando’s agricultural resilience.


Strengthening Community Bonds

The lockdown highlighted the power of community in Benard’s village. With markets and transport limited, neighbors banded together to barter goods—maize for fish, vegetables for eggs. Benard’s diary describes weekly meetings under a mango tree, where villagers shared resources and strategies. “We were poor, but we were rich in togetherness,” he writes. These gatherings, held while respecting social distancing, fostered a sense of solidarity reminiscent of Kenya’s harambee spirit (pulling together).

Benard took a leadership role, organizing a small cooperative to pool surplus produce and sell it in Kisumu when restrictions eased. He also used his teaching skills to create informal lessons for neighborhood children, setting up an open-air classroom under the same mango tree. “I couldn’t let their minds go idle,” he notes. Using chalkboards borrowed from his school and worksheets he wrote by hand, Benard taught math and reading, ensuring kids like Mary and Peter stayed engaged. Parents contributed small amounts of food or labor in exchange, creating a reciprocal system that sustained the group.

Pro Tip: In Kisumu, visit the Dunga Hill Camp ($5–$10 entry) to experience community-driven eco-tourism and learn about local Luo culture, reflecting the unity Benard describes.


Embracing Family and Simplicity

The lockdown also deepened Benard’s family bonds. With no school or work to pull him away, he spent more time with Grace, Mary, and Peter. “Before, I was always rushing,” he writes. “Now, I saw my children grow.” Evenings were filled with storytelling, with Benard sharing Luo folktales about the trickster hare, Sungura, while Grace taught the kids to sew. These moments, simple yet profound, became treasures in his diary. “Lockdown taught me that happiness isn’t money—it’s laughter, it’s family.”

Benard and Grace also tackled household projects, like repairing their roof with recycled iron sheets and planting a small herb garden. Cooking became a family affair, with Mary learning to make ugali (maize porridge) and Peter helping wash vegetables. “We ate what we grew,” Benard writes. “No fancy spices, just love.” These rituals grounded the family, turning scarcity into sufficiency.

Pro Tip: Try traditional Luo dishes like nyoyo (maize and beans) at Mama Oliech Restaurant in Kisumu ($3–$5), similar to the home-cooked meals Benard’s family enjoyed.


Confronting Challenges and Finding Faith

Benard’s diary doesn’t shy away from the lockdown’s hardships. The family faced food shortages, especially in April 2020, when rains flooded parts of Nyando, damaging crops. “There were days we ate one meal,” he recalls. “I felt like a failure.” The lack of nearby healthcare was another worry—Kisumu’s main hospital, Jaramogi Oginga Odinga, was an hour away, and local clinics lacked ventilators. Benard’s faith, rooted in his Christian upbringing, became a source of strength. “I prayed under the stars,” he writes. “God didn’t send money, but He sent ideas.”

One such idea was using his smartphone to connect with NGOs distributing food aid. Benard registered his village cooperative, securing maize and oil for 20 families. He also taught himself basic digital skills, creating a WhatsApp group to share farming tips and coordinate aid. “Lockdown made me a student again,” he notes. These efforts not only alleviated immediate needs but also gave Benard a sense of agency.

Pro Tip: Explore Kisumu’s Kibuye Market (free entry), where local cooperatives sell produce and crafts, reflecting the community networks Benard built.


Redefining Purpose

As the lockdown eased in late 2020, Benard emerged with a new perspective. “The virus took much, but it gave me myself,” he writes. He realized teaching and farming were not just jobs but callings. Inspired by his open-air classroom, he began advocating for rural education, collaborating with local NGOs to provide books and solar lamps for students. His farming cooperative grew, supplying vegetables to Kisumu’s markets and creating a small income stream.

Benard also dreamed bigger. “I want to build a community learning center,” he writes, envisioning a space for children to study and adults to learn farming techniques. His diary ends with gratitude: “Lockdown was hard, but it showed me what matters—my family, my land, my people. I found my purpose in the silence.”

Pro Tip: Visit the Kisumu Museum ($2–$4 entry) to learn about Luo heritage and community resilience, which shaped Benard’s lockdown experience.


Kisumu’s Lockdown Context

Benard’s story reflects broader trends in Kisumu during the pandemic. X posts from 2020 highlight community efforts like food drives and virtual church services, mirroring Benard’s cooperative and faith-based resilience. The Standard newspaper reported on rural Kenyans turning to farming, aligning with Benard’s agricultural focus. Globally, lockdown diaries, like those in the Guardian’s “Lockdown Life” series, echo Benard’s themes of rediscovery and community, showing how the pandemic prompted universal introspection.


Practical Tips for Visiting Kisumu

Benard’s story, set in Kisumu, invites travelers to explore this vibrant city and its rural surroundings. Here’s how to plan a visit inspired by his journey:

  • Getting There: Fly to Kisumu International Airport (KIS) from Nairobi ($50–$100) or take a bus (6–8 hours, $10–$15). Airport taxis cost $5–$10.
  • Accommodation: Stay at Dunga Hill Camp ($15–$30/night, dorms) or Sovereign Hotel ($50–$80/night) for mid-range comfort.
  • Transport: Boda-bodas (motorcycle taxis) cost $0.50–$2; matatus (minibuses) are $0.50–$1. Kisumu is bike-friendly ($5/day rental).
  • Costs: Budget $30–$50/day for dorms, street food ($2–$5 for ugali and fish), and free/low-cost activities like lake walks.
  • Must-Do Activities:
    • Visit Lake Victoria for free sunset views or a boat ride ($5–$10).
    • Explore Kibuye Market for local produce and crafts (free).
    • Take a day trip to Ndere Island National Park ($20–$30, including boat) for wildlife and hiking.
    • Join a cultural tour with Kipepeo Projects ($10–$20) to visit rural villages like Nyando.
  • Food: Try fish stew at Mama Oliech ($3–$5) or sukuma wiki at roadside stalls ($1–$2).
  • Safety: Kisumu is safe, but avoid walking alone at night. Use mosquito nets for malaria prevention. Check FCDO travel advice.
  • Weather: Dry seasons (January–March, July–October) offer mild weather (20–28°C). Wet seasons (April–June, November–December) bring rain.
  • Sustainability: Support local cooperatives at markets and use reusable water bottles (boil or filter tap water).

Why Benard’s Story Matters

Benard Otieno’s Lockdown Diaries entry, nominated as #32, is a powerful reminder that adversity can unearth strength and purpose. The lockdown, though fraught with challenges, allowed Benard to reconnect with his land, family, and community, transforming scarcity into opportunity. His story mirrors Kisumu’s spirit of resilience, seen in its history of overcoming floods and economic hardship. For travelers, Kisumu offers a chance to witness this vitality—through its markets, lakeside beauty, and warm Luo hospitality.

Benard’s narrative also resonates globally, echoing lockdown stories in projects like The Lockdown Diaries (UK), where people found meaning in crisis. His diary inspires us to find value in simplicity, whether farming in Nyando or reflecting in our own lives. Visit Kisumu, walk Benard’s path, and let his story remind you that even in the darkest times, we can grow, connect, and thrive.

Lockdown Diaries Nominee #31: How the Lockdown Helped Me Find Myself by Jana Shamira

Sarajevo in Lockdown: A City Silenced

In March 2020, Bosnia and Herzegovina imposed stringent lockdown measures to curb the spread of Covid-19. Sarajevo, a city of approximately 275,000 nestled in the Miljacka River valley and surrounded by the Dinaric Alps, saw its vibrant life come to a standstill. The cobblestone streets of Baščaršija, typically alive with the aroma of Bosnian coffee and the chatter of locals and tourists, fell eerily quiet. Schools, businesses, and cultural venues closed, and residents were confined to their homes, allowed out only for essential tasks. For a city that had endured the 1992–1995 Bosnian War, the lockdown was a new kind of challenge, evoking memories of resilience forged in adversity.

Jana Shamira lived in a cozy apartment in the Grbavica neighborhood, a short walk from the Miljacka River. As a freelance graphic designer, her pre-lockdown life was a whirlwind of client meetings, brainstorming sessions in Sarajevo’s eclectic cafes, and networking in the city’s thriving arts scene. “I was always on the move,” she writes in her diary, “chasing deadlines, gigs, and a version of success I thought defined me.” When Bosnia announced its lockdown on March 16, 2020, Jana’s world shrank to her 40-square-meter apartment, her laptop, and a view of a city in pause. Her diary, penned in a blend of Bosnian and English, captures how this isolation became a turning point for self-discovery.


The Early Days: Disorientation and Restlessness

Jana’s diary begins with raw honesty about the lockdown’s initial impact. “One day, I’m sketching logos at Café Zlatna Ribica; the next, my clients are silent, and Sarajevo is locked,” she writes. With projects on hold and social gatherings banned, Jana felt adrift. “I didn’t know who I was without my work, my friends, or the city’s pulse,” she confesses. This sentiment echoes global lockdown experiences, as seen in projects like The Guardian’s 2020 “Lockdown Stories,” where individuals grappled with the loss of routine.

The early weeks were marked by restlessness. Jana tried to fill the void with distractions—binge-watching Netflix, attempting viral lockdown recipes like sourdough bread, and scrolling through social media. But the quiet of her apartment amplified an inner unease. “The silence forced me to listen to myself,” she writes, “and I wasn’t sure I liked what I heard.” Questions about her purpose, identity, and happiness surfaced, unignorable in the absence of her usual hustle. This discomfort, though challenging, set the stage for her transformation, mirroring Sarajevo’s history of finding strength in adversity.


Rediscovering Creativity

One of the most poignant themes in Jana’s diary is her reconnection with her creative roots. As a teenager, Jana had been passionate about painting, poetry, and photography, capturing Sarajevo’s blend of Ottoman, Austro-Hungarian, and modern elements. But her freelance career had shifted her focus to commercial design—logos, branding, and social media graphics for clients. “I was creating for others, not for me,” she reflects. “Somewhere along the way, I lost the joy of art.”

With client work scarce, Jana rediscovered an old sketchbook tucked away in her closet. She began sketching her immediate surroundings: the chipped teacup on her kitchen table, the stray cat that visited her balcony, the minarets silhouetted against the Sarajevo skyline. “Drawing became my escape,” she writes. “It didn’t need to be perfect—it just needed to be mine.” Inspired by her city’s resilience, she started a series of illustrations depicting Sarajevo’s history—its Ottoman bridges like Latin Bridge, Austro-Hungarian landmarks like Vijećnica, and war-scarred buildings reborn as cultural hubs. These artworks, shared on Instagram, resonated with local artists, sparking virtual collaborations that reignited her passion.

Jana contributed to a digital zine with Sarajevo creatives, blending her illustrations with poetry and photography to explore themes of survival and hope. “Lockdown made me see Sarajevo’s strength,” she writes. “It’s a city that’s been broken and rebuilt, and I was doing the same with myself.” Her creative revival reflects Sarajevo’s tradition of art as resistance, seen in wartime cultural initiatives like the Sarajevo Film Festival, which persisted during the 1990s siege.

Pro Tip: Visitors to Sarajevo can explore the Sarajevo City Hall (Vijećnica), a restored Austro-Hungarian masterpiece, for inspiration from its intricate architecture, much like Jana drew from her city’s heritage ($3/6 BAM entry).


Confronting Personal Fears

The lockdown also forced Jana to face insecurities that her busy life had masked. “I was terrified of failing,” she admits in her diary. “Every rejected pitch, every late payment—it felt like proof I wasn’t good enough.” The isolation stripped away distractions, leaving her to confront these fears head-on. She began journaling, a practice she hadn’t revisited since her university days, using prompts like “What am I afraid of?” and “What brings me joy?” to dig deeper.

Through journaling, Jana realized her self-worth was tied to external validation—client approval, social media likes, and the fast-paced rhythm of Sarajevo’s creative scene. “Lockdown showed me I was enough, just as I am,” she writes. This insight led her to set new boundaries, such as declining low-paying gigs and prioritizing projects with meaning, like designing posters for local charities supporting Covid-affected families. Online therapy, accessed through affordable platforms ($15–$25/session), helped her manage anxiety, providing tools to reframe her fears as opportunities for growth. “Therapy was like cleaning a foggy mirror,” she notes. “I could finally see myself clearly.”

Pro Tip: For travelers, the War Childhood Museum in Sarajevo ($5/10 BAM) offers a reflective space to engage with personal stories of resilience, mirroring Jana’s introspective journey. Plan for 1–2 hours to fully absorb the exhibits.


Deepening Connections

While lockdown physically isolated Jana, it strengthened her relationships in unexpected ways. Unable to meet friends at Baščaršija’s cafes or attend gallery openings, she turned to virtual platforms. She joined online art workshops hosted by Sarajevo’s creative community, connecting with painters, writers, and musicians across Bosnia. These sessions, often free or low-cost ($5–$10), introduced her to new techniques and perspectives, enriching her work. “We were apart, but creating together,” she writes. “It felt like Sarajevo’s spirit—unbreakable.”

Jana also reconnected with her family. Living alone, she had drifted from her parents and younger brother, who lived in Ilidža, a 30-minute tram ride away. During lockdown, she initiated weekly video calls, sharing stories of her childhood and learning about her parents’ experiences during the Bosnian War. “Their courage humbled me,” she writes. “They survived a siege; I could survive this.” Her mother sent homemade baklava, which Jana savored during these calls, turning simple moments into cherished memories. These interactions grounded her, reinforcing the importance of family ties.

Pro Tip: Explore Baščaršija Market in Sarajevo to buy ingredients like walnuts and phyllo dough for baklava ($2–$5), recreating the comfort food Jana enjoyed with her family.


Embracing Wellness and Simplicity

The lockdown prompted Jana to prioritize her physical and mental well-being. Pre-Covid, her schedule left little time for self-care. Confined to her apartment, she began practicing yoga via free YouTube tutorials, finding peace in morning sessions on her balcony. “It was just me, the sunrise, and the quiet city,” she writes. “I felt my body and mind reconnect.” She also took up cooking, experimenting with Bosnian recipes like čevapi and burek from her grandmother’s handwritten cookbook. “Cooking was creative, like art,” she notes. “And it saved money.”

Daily walks along the Miljacka River, permitted as restrictions eased, became a ritual. “The river reminded me life keeps flowing, even when it feels stuck,” she writes. These practices, combined with therapy, helped Jana find balance, turning her apartment from a place of confinement into a sanctuary of growth.

Pro Tip: Walk the Miljacka River promenade for free, scenic views of Sarajevo’s bridges and colorful buildings, a favorite activity for Jana during eased restrictions.


Finding Purpose Through Community

Jana’s lockdown experience was deeply tied to her community. Inspired by Sarajevo’s history of resilience, she volunteered to design free promotional materials for local charities, including food drives for families hit hard by the pandemic. “Creating for a cause felt different,” she writes. “It wasn’t about money—it was about impact.” Her work with organizations like Pomozi.ba connected her with other creatives, leading to a virtual art exhibition that raised funds for medical supplies. “We turned isolation into connection,” she reflects.

This sense of purpose shaped Jana’s future goals. She began envisioning a small art studio in Sarajevo, a space for local artists to collaborate and teach. “Lockdown showed me I could create on my terms,” she writes. “I want to build something that lasts.” Her diary closes with hope: “The world paused, but I found my path—toward myself, toward my city.”

Pro Tip: Visit Galerija 11/07/95 ($5/10 BAM) to understand Sarajevo’s resilience, which inspired Jana’s community work. The gallery documents the Srebrenica genocide, offering context for the city’s enduring spirit.


Sarajevo’s Lockdown Context

Jana’s story reflects broader trends in Sarajevo during the pandemic. The city’s history of surviving the 1992–1995 siege, when residents relied on the War Tunnel for supplies, fostered a collective resilience that shone through in 2020. Community initiatives, like virtual concerts and food drives, flourished, as noted in X posts from the time. Jana’s virtual collaborations mirror these efforts, showing how Sarajevans adapted to isolation. Globally, her narrative aligns with lockdown diaries in projects like Hindustan Times’ “Lockdown Chronicles,” where individuals found creativity and purpose in confinement.


Practical Tips for Visiting Sarajevo

Jana’s story invites travelers to explore Sarajevo’s vibrant culture and resilient spirit. Here’s how to plan a visit inspired by her journey:

  • Getting There: Fly to Sarajevo International Airport (SJJ) from Istanbul ($100–$200) or London ($150–$300). Airport taxis cost $10–$15; buses are $3.
  • Accommodation: Stay at Hostel Kucha ($10–$15/night, dorms) or Hotel Old Town ($40–$60/night) in Baščaršija, near Jana’s creative hub.
  • Transport: Sarajevo is walkable; trams and buses cost $1/1.8 BAM. Taxis are $5–$10 for short rides.
  • Costs: Budget $30–$50/day for hostels, street food ($2–$5 for čevapi), and free/low-cost activities like the Yellow Fortress.
  • Must-Do Activities:
    • Wander Baščaršija for Ottoman charm and Bosnian coffee ($1–$2).
    • Visit the War Tunnel Museum ($5–$10) to understand Sarajevo’s resilience.
    • Hike or take the cable car to Mount Trebević ($10 round-trip) for city views.
    • Join a free walking tour (tip $5–$10) for hidden gems.
  • Food: Try burek at Buregdžinica Bosna ($2–$4) or baklava at Rahatlook ($1–$2).
  • Safety: Sarajevo is safe, but avoid unmarked areas due to rare landmine risks. Check FCDO travel advice.
  • Weather: Spring (April–June) and autumn (September–October) offer mild weather (15–25°C).
  • Sustainability: Support local artisans at Baščaršija Market and use reusable water bottles (tap water is potable).

Why Jana’s Story Resonates

Jana Shamira’s Lockdown Diaries entry, nominated as #31, is a powerful reminder that crises can unearth hidden strengths. The lockdown, though isolating, allowed Jana to rediscover her creativity, confront her fears, and build meaningful connections. Her journey mirrors Sarajevo’s transformation from a war-torn city to a vibrant cultural hub, where resilience is a way of life. For travelers, Sarajevo offers a chance to walk in Jana’s footsteps—exploring its historic streets, engaging with its creative scene, and finding inspiration in its enduring spirit.

Jana’s story also speaks to a global audience, echoing lockdown narratives in projects like The Lockdown Journal, where people found solace in reflection and creation. Her diary inspires us to embrace pauses, whether in Sarajevo or our own lives, as opportunities for growth. Visit this remarkable city, let Jana’s story guide you, and discover how even the quietest moments can lead to profound self-discovery.