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By Park Moo-jong
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April arrives to herald the coming of spring after winter has left. Flowers are blooming and life is beginning to emerge as a time of joy.
Yet, this April is quite different, reminding us of the famous poem by T.S. Eliot (1888-1965), "The Waste Land," that opens with the following lines:
"April is the cruelest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain …"
English rock band Deep Purple also sang in their song, "April":
"April is a cruel time
Even though the sun may shine
And world looks in the shade as it slowly comes away
Still falls the April rain
And the valley's filled with pain …"
April of today is indeed cruel as the American poet and the English rock singers "predicted" a long time ago back in 1922 and 1968, respectively.
Since late February, we Koreans have been "self-isolated" in our homes, mainly following our own judgment, regardless of the government's calls, to effectively help prevent the spread of the COVID-19 outbreak, which the World Health Organization (WHO) belatedly declared a "pandemic."
Even if the government failed to close the door to China, the epicenter of the plague, in the initial stages, and apparently caused countries worldwide to ban the entry of South Korea, we have fared relatively well in fighting the outbreak ― wearing masks, together with the world's top-class medical teams and their state-of-art technologies.
The government also played a pivotal role in effectively coping with the crisis by informing the public transparently and providing a top testing system (developed by private enterprises, though), which many countries are in dire need of.
To global admiration and surprise, Koreans are, for the most part, staying calmly at home and in their workplaces, complying well with social distancing guidelines.
During crises like this COVID-19 pandemic, people hoarding basic necessities such as toilet paper, eggs, meat and rice, etc. is normal behavior. The tendency to stockpile or hoard such items is not just strange behavior that people do in times of crisis.
Panic-buying is emptying shelves of shopping malls and stores as seen in a number of countries like the United States and Japan as fear of the outbreak deepens. Yet, this is not the case in South Korea. The only Koreans making long lines are either waiting to be tested or to buy masks as part of a rationing formula.
Why are South Koreans not crazy about stockpiling daily essentials?
We owe much to the diversity of places to buy essentials. There are convenience stores every 100 meters as well as local supermarkets, conventional markets and large shopping malls like E-Mart here, there and everywhere.
South Korea is also proud of a world-renowned home delivery system, dubbed "taekbae." Consumers can get what they need any time and without difficulty through online orders that help make social distancing relatively easy. Furthermore, delivered packages at the doorstep are seldom stolen.
The story of "Baedal Minjok or Baemin," a delivery app, that was sold to Germany-based Delivery Hero last year for $4 billion, testifies to the rapid and remarkable development of South Korea's delivery service industry.
But what is a decisive element is South Koreans' dauntless attitude in coping with crises, which can be an outcome of lessons from previous episodes such as Japanese colonial rule (1910-45), the Korean War (1950-53), the foreign currency crisis (1997-98), and North Korea's ceaseless nuclear threats, to name a few.
In fighting the pandemic, many people have got to think anew about how precious their daily routines used to be. This includes the everyday blessings of our daily routines in meeting friends or going to church, movie house, restaurants, bars and elsewhere, to gather in groups and to enjoy the bright sunshine, and breath pure air.
This April can be a cruel month for people the world over ― having to stay home and stay safe in their crusade against the deadly virus. But I have the firm belief that we Koreans can work it out in light of what we have done over the past months and will return to our daily routines under bright sunshine of spring.
Park Moo-jong (emjei29@gmail.com) is a standing adviser of The Korea Times. He served as the president-publisher of the nation's first English daily newspaper from 2004 to 2014 after working as a reporter since 1974.