Curved

It is too early to celebrate. The DOH insists the curve has not yet flattened.

A few days ago, a team of UP experts monitoring the local progress of the pandemic declared we have flattened the curve. This was after they established that the reproduction rate (R-naught) had fallen below 1 in the Metro-Manila area.

Weeks before that, Health Secretary Francisco Duque III startled everyone by declaring we have already flattened the curve. He did not provide evidence for this. In the days following the abrupt declaration, infection numbers began surging, forcing tighter restrictions to be briefly imposed. His aides quietly walked back that premature pronouncement.

Now the Health Department appears to have taken a more prudent position.

In addition to bringing the infection rate to below 1, DOH spokesperson Ma. Rosario Vergeire says that the critical care utilization rate must fall below 30 percent before a flattening of the curve is declared. At present, this rate stands at 46 percent.

It could take a few more weeks of declining infections before the critical care utilization rate falls below the DOH-defined threshold. So hold the fireworks.

In the meantime, MECQ has been imposed on Bacolod City and Lanao del Sur due to spikes in infections. That tighter status will be maintained until the end of the month.

The IATF now requires all persons who tested positive be confined in designated isolation facilities. No infected person will be allowed to recuperate at home.

This ought to have been the policy from the start. But without enough isolation facilities available, it could not have been an enforceable policy in the early stages. Infected by asymptomatic persons have been allowed to stay at home. This has never been a guarantee they would not be spreading the virus.

Today, most local governments have erected their own isolation facilities as mandated by the IATF. In many provinces, the facilities are used to quarantine returning residents even if they tested negative. New cases in most provinces are almost invariably traced to persons returning from Metro Manila. Holding down infections in the metropolis will hold down infections everywhere else.

It is understandable that many provincial governments have adopted strict protocols against people traveling from Metro Manila. This has, however, inflated the number of locally stranded individuals. That comes with its many miseries. Those miseries will diminish only as we diminish the infection rate in the metropolis.

So much, therefore, rests on bringing down the reproduction rate in the teeming streets of Metro Manila and adjacent provinces. This is the main battle zone. If we win here, we win nationwide.

One has to agree with the more prudent position adopted by the DOH. There is little to be gained from declaring the curve flattened. There could be new infection spikes down the road. It is not yet time to rip off our masks and dance in the streets.

Unsung

Since the pandemic struck, the lowly barangay has been forced to assume gargantuan roles.

When the first wave of lockdowns were enforced, the barangay was tasked with enforcing the quarantines, monitoring possible infection outbreaks at neighborhood level, distributing relief goods and, in many instances, providing isolation facilities for the infected.

The smallest political unit was not designed and equipped for the tasks that came. Before the pandemic, the barangay performed rather routine tasks: managing waste disposal, patrolling the streets at night, adjudicating small neighborhood disputes and enforcing local ordinances. The barangay seemed so inconsequential, it was never controversial to postpone neighborhood elections when convenience dictates.

By force of the health contingency, the barangay became a vital cog of the national effort to fight the pandemic. Village chairmen called up volunteers to man checkpoints and enforce mask mandates. Suddenly, the boundaries between barangays became important demarcations.

Barangay records of its constituents were rapidly updated. Senior citizens and vulnerable persons were marked out. Possible infections were monitored and reported. Contact tracing efforts were done through the barangay. Qualified recipients of assistance were documented.

The once sleepy barangay offices have become beehives of activity around the clock. Stockpiles of food aid and medicines filled the offices. They have become the frontline.

When vaccines become available, even for Stage-3 testing, they will first go to the most infected barangays. This is the sanest possible strategy. It will make the barangay the hub for vaccination.

When we finally begin rebuilding our public healthcare system so that it becomes truly grassroots-based rather than hospital-centered, the barangay organization will need to be reinvented. It will be the community clinic, dispensing primary and preventive healthcare at all hours. It will be the anchor of a truly pro-people health system, hopefully equipped with ambulances and emergency medical teams to care for their constituents.

The smallest political unit will be more than doubly important for our governance.

We have celebrated our doctors and nurses for their courage and dedication in helping fight the pandemic. They deserve every ounce of praise they get.

Our barangay workers, on the other hand, have been largely unsung. They toil quietly day in and day out, performing the new and unexpected duties thrust upon them. No one called them heroes.

When all this is over, let us all find the time to thank our barangay workers for the heroism they performed. We will rely on them to do much more in the future when we begin reinventing our public health system.

There was wisdom, after all, in instituting this smallest political unit.