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As COVID 19 makes its way around the globe, Zambian journalist Njila Banda says it is now running free in his country. Here he reflects on the way the virus is being handled by the government of Zambia.

Since the first confirmed cases of COVID 19, I have spent lockdown at home at the Mthunzi Children’s Programme in Lusaka West. I have helped to plant vegetables and fed the chickens and pigs, always keeping that two metres distance from others. I have also been able to continue learning through Claned.com, an online learning application.
Now I am turning my eyes outwards to see how the politicians are interpreting the pandemic in Zambia.
It is certainly wise that we should observe the restrictions, but can it be ok for a minister to go around whipping people to make them to follow President’s directives? At the end of March, Lusaka Province Minister Bowman Lusambo warned that people disobeying regulations on Coronavirus - such as not frequenting bars – would be whipped, and he was reported to have carried out the threat personally.
The virus has affected the globe, but we have not heard of any other country’s senior officials taking law on their hands. 
Our media has reported that Zambian human rights activist Fumba Chama, popularly known as Pilato, described Mr Lusambo’s threats as primitive, and he says that this cannot be the way that laws or presidential declarations are enforced. I wholeheartedly agree.
As the virus has spread, Kafue township where I am living on the outskirts of Lusaka was put under ‘lockdown’. I believe this should not be lifted. We know that people need to adhere to the directives in order to reduce the person-to-person transmission, and the virus is multiplying fast. By April 20, it had spread to other Lusaka townships - Garbon, Thornpark, Chilenje, Bauleni and Chaisa. Geographically, these are spread around the outskirts of the city. It has also been confirmed in the towns of Kafue, Kabwe, and Makeni. Patients include a 10-year-old child and a 19-year-old young woman. 
Governments alone cannot manage this scourge. It needs total cooperation of citizens, and our commitment to directives on hygiene, social distancing and the ‘stay home’ call.
But governments - ours here in Zambia in particular - should not use this period either for violence or for political gain. We don’t want to see political parties or individuals branding their personal protection equipment.  Facemasks can’t become political tools. For me, seeing vehicles and PPE branded by political parties to ‘fight COVID 19 together’ is partisan campaigning gone mad. 
We have to find the best ways of handling the virus, not score political points. The figures won’t be up to date by the time you read this, but at the time of writing, 2,498,999 cases of COVID 19 had been confirmed around the world. People are living in confinement to secure their own lives and the lives of others. 
I pray that Zambia will unite to fight this pandemic. As citizens of the world, we have to hold governments to account, even while we stay home to be safe. And we are in solidarity with those who have lost their loved ones and all those battling for their lives globally.

Alex Holmes reflects on his latest encounters with Calais refugees facing COVID 19

The wind is strong, funnelled by the high wall snaking the link road that connects Calais port to the French autoroutes. At the foot of the wall, sagging tents house young Eritrean exiles who have escaped their country’s repressive autocracy. Most have family and friends in the UK.  

Merhawi, his back to the wall, tells me a story in fluent English.

Once there was a rich young man who lived in a beautiful big house with ten bedrooms. One day he decided to invite Jesus to stay with him. When Jesus arrived, the man offered him the best bedroom in the house. "This room is all yours, Jesus. Stay as long as you like." 

Nearby, young Eritreans sit on camping stools around the fire. Smoke stings the eyes and throat and permeates everyone’s clothes. It’s the signature scent of the Calais refugee. ‘Sit, sit. Come and drink coffee.’ The circle widens. The winter light fades fast.

Night came and there was a loud banging at the front door. The young man went downstairs. He opened the front door to find an angry man demanding to be let into the house.  After a great struggle, he managed to shut the door. "I don’t understand,” he thought. “Jesus is in my best room sleeping while I am downstairs fighting a crazy demon.” The next night there was even louder banging at the front door. This time three big violent men tried to get into his house. He fought and fought and finally managed to shut the door. He didn't understand this at all. "Why didn't Jesus come to my rescue? Why did he allow me to fight all by myself?” 

This is Calais, a vast open-air prison with kilometres of concrete wall and surveillance cameras where people express their despair. So many have been shunted around Europe, their requests for asylum rejected. ‘Why does nobody want us?’ they ask. ‘Why is there no love and respect in Europe?’

Next morning the young man spoke to Jesus. "I don't understand. For two nights I fought the demons while you were sleeping. I thought that once I invited you to live with me that you would take care of me.” 
"I do care for you,” replied Jesus. “But when you invited me to come here and stay, you gave me this lovely room and you shut the door to the rest of your house. I am Lord of this room but I am not Master of this house. I have protected this room and no demon may enter here."
"Jesus please forgive me. Take all of my house – it’s yours. I want you to have control of everything." 
After that no more angry demons came to the young man’s house and his door was open to everyone who needed shelter. 

His story finished, Merhawi leaves the circle and melts into the night. I message him before I leave Calais, telling him I would say goodbye the next day. As promised, I come at midday - no sign of Merhawi. An hour later, a message: ‘I’m in Birmingham, Alex. Yesterday I got into truck and am now in UK.’
For Merhawi, the door had been opened.

In this week's blog Marian Pallister reflects on the suffering church past and present.

There have, of course, been complaints about the closing of our churches, the online Masses, Stations of the Cross, and prayers. ‘There’s nowhere like your own parish church,’ has been the cry from some as priests and bishops try their level best to master technologies and reach out to the faithful.

And if you don’t have access to a laptop, a mobile phone or a tablet, the exclusion from even ‘remote’ celebration of our faith must be particularly hard.

But this is temporary, and benign. Let’s remember that not so long ago, we could have been worshipping on a hillside out of human view.

 After the Reformation in the mid 1500s, the Catholic faith went underground – or perhaps more accurately, hid itself in the hills.

Living in the Diocese of Argyll and the Isles, we are aware of remote outdoor meeting places where people bravely came together for Masses celebrated by Irish priests who incognito, made their way up through the Kintyre peninsula and beyond.

In the far north, aided by the Dukes of Gordon, Scalan seminary helped preserve the faith between 1717 and 1799. In the 1720s – after first Uprising in 1715 – pupils and staff went into hiding because of the threat of government troops in the area. Worse was to come in 1746 after the Battle of Culloden, when the Duke of Cumberland himself – ‘the Butcher’ – led troops to torch the seminary.  

Even so, by 1767, a farmhouse was converted to replace the original cottage and seminarians were taught in this remote setting until the end of the century.

Another hidden seminary was established on the Isle of Loch Morar by Bishop Gordon and run from 1714 by Fr George Innes. It was situated ‘in the heart of our best and surest friends’, Bishop Hugh MacDonald wrote to Rome in 1733 seeking help. But when Bonnie Prince Charles landed in the area in 1745, it rather gave the game away that this was a place where the Catholic faith continued to be practiced. 

In the wake of the Young Pretender’s defeat, naval ships landed 300 men, and boats were carried overland to the loch. According to reports of the time, ‘The people on the island outstripped both the boats and the soldiers who pursued them along the lochside, hoping to cut off any landing.’

Once on the island, however, the seminary was uncovered and the ‘Popish Bishop's house and chapel…[was] quickly gutted and demolished’. The Bishop escaped on a French ship but returned to Scotland in August 1749.

Today our churches are safe. We can freely worship, albeit online. As Pope Francis said: “To the pandemic of the virus we want to respond with the universality of prayer, of compassion, of tenderness. Let us unite. Let us make our closeness felt to the people who are most alone and most deprived.” 

We can do that best through the technologies at our disposal. Let’s not dismiss the efforts made on our behalf. It’s our faith that matters, not where or how we worship.