Do I stay or do I go? The impossible choices facing migrants stranded by coronavirus
Zoe Osborne explores what happens when you are living and working thousands of miles from home – and then the world stops moving
The coronavirus outbreak has left Kate* with an impossible choice. An Australian national living with her British husband and three children in Vietnam, she is one of thousands around the world having to make the same simple call – do you stay or do you go?
Since the first travel bans to and from China in January, the outbreak of Covid-19 has spread to every corner of the globe, infecting (as of Saturday morning) more than 275,000 people in 166 countries or territories worldwide, with more than 11,000 deaths.
As borders close, flights are cancelled and airports shut down, many countries have issued warnings to their citizens working abroad to come home before it’s too late. For many people, this is far easier said than done.
Speaking to The Independent, Kate explains that she holds passports to two countries, her children hold three – but her husband holds just one. With European countries limiting entry to their own nationals only, going home now would mean splitting up their family, with no certainty about how long the crisis will last.
“Due to onerous immigration policies, we have been living in third party countries to ensure our family [is] kept together,” says Kate.
“Do we stay put with the prospect of possibly having no jobs in a month or two but our family is together, or do we make the heartbreaking decision to split up? Who takes the kids?”
Even if they do stay, Kate says she is concerned about the level of their medical insurance coverage (it is unclear whether travel insurance companies would cover problems related to Covid-19) and – given the nature of the pandemic – fears the worst-case scenario.
“What if [one of us] becomes really ill or dies?” she asks. “What if both adults end up passing away in Vietnam, what happens to our kids?
“I have nightmares about going into central quarantine or my family getting sick and my kids separated from me. Sick and maybe dying in a room where they don’t understand anything.”
Other stranded migrants expressed concerns about essentially the opposite problem – the worry that their home countries are not as safe as the ones they are stranded in.
While many developed nations have been hit hardest by coronavirus so far, there is no clinical proof to suggest developing nations will avoid equally bad outbreaks. The WHO warned early on that when this happens, health systems in poorer nations are likely to be worse equipped to deal with a surge in cases.
Gathii and her boyfriend feel safer in Vietnam than if they went back to Gathii’s home country, Kenya, despite the Kenyan government reporting just seven cases so far, compared to Vietnam’s 91.
“The number of people living below a dollar a day are many and I don’t think they can be quarantined because [they have to] go out to make food to eat every day,” she says. “We are crying every day all over Facebook for border closure but nothing is happening.”
She echoes another concern voiced by many – that the process of flying home could itself be a risky one. “The chances of me contracting Covid-19 is higher on an airplane and in layover than being in your house,” she says. “I also have two toddlers [and] I’d never risk their lives.”
For some people, the time when they had a choice to stay or go has already passed. Kaye and her fiance cannot leave Vietnam for her home country – the Philippines – because all domestic and international flights there have been cancelled until 14 April.
The couple have a newborn son and were already planning to go home before the outbreak began – to the extent that both had resigned from their jobs and moved out of their apartment, just before the pandemic was declared.
“So we are stuck here [and meanwhile] our working visas are running out,” says Kaye.
The parents were already struggling to process a birth certificate for their son, and are now left without income, health insurance or a stable home, facing a deeply uncertain future.
For American citizen Amber LaVine, the last chance to leave locked-down Morocco came and went on Friday with the final State Department-chartered evacuation flight.
Ms LaVine says she chose not to fly home for fear of bringing coronavirus back to her elderly parents. As a result, she will now have to overstay her visa – a decision which could impact the Moroccan residency application she was hoping to file later this year.
“I emailed the embassy to ask what to do if I am forced to overstay my visa,” she says. “If I don’t hear back by Monday, I will have [my fiancé] Aziz ask the police.”
Like many stranded people, she can only hope that national governments show leniency to visa over-stayers given the unprecedented situation. After passing on Friday’s flight, she has no voice now but to sit tight, hope for the best, and wait for the world to start moving again.
* name changed to protect identity
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