(T) Tulga ’23, pictured outside of Spencer House, is from Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia, and one of the students staying on campus during the COVID-19. She talks about the importance of taking care of oneself during the pandemic. Photo courtesy of Josephine Yuen ’22
From Where I Sit is an ongoing column associated with the ESOL program that aims to share the stories and experiences of international students.
I felt a bit ashamed after spending the entire day scanning subtle cracks on the ceiling that resemble the empty branches outside my window or the veins on my hand that became more prominent. After a while, the shame transformed itself into tranquility when I heard a familiar ringtone, a reminder that it is probably 8PM and my grandmother must have just woken up on the other side of the world.
I set up my phone across the table and we will talk about my day, coronavirus cases in Mongolia, the weather and summer plans. I’ve been relieved to hear that so far, there’s only been 40 cases. The government placed a lockdown in March, and they have been taking impressive measures to prevent the spread of the virus by: closing borders, requiring 21 days of quarantine for those who entered the country through chartered flights, and etc. There are no direct flights from the U.S to Mongolia, as we only have layover flights through China, Korea, Japan and Europe, so I haven’t been able to get back home. Catching up on such circumstances in Mongolia from my grandparents, the entire family will join the video call and their overlapping conversations and bickerings will engulf the room. As if to make up for the time I spent underappreciating the comfort of my home and family, I try to spend at least four to five hours on the call. This is how my day unfolds amid the 55 international students, some of whom can be heard playing the piano or the saxophone and even bongo drums, accompanied by the frequent chatter from Zoom class meetings.
Sunset in Ulaanbaatar, the writer’s hometown, taken last summer. Photo courtesy of @dukapl
Intermingled with the strands of uncertainty, change and grief, I am grateful to be able to say that I feel somewhat at peace. The online classes allow me to connect with my family in Mongolia through video calls. On some mornings, my grandmother will tune into my Zoom classes (through WhatsApp) and experience a significant part of my day that she was not able to see before. One time, my grandparents was able to listen to my ECON100 class, where the professor talked about fiscal policies and their impacts during a pandemic in which they found the professor’s input relevant and interesting. My excitement to explain the lecture and grandmother’s fascination for online classes merged with the class discussions, creating an intricate harmony between my academics and my family.
I feel even more grateful to have a place to stay and food to eat, in a time where I could have been lost and abandoned, thanks to the accommodating faculty and staff members. My international host mother, Vige Barrie, will bring me take-outs from the Phoenician nearly every two weeks, and sometimes we would go on walks in the Root Glen while talking about the 25 different species of flower or the uncertainty of life. My supervisor from the Institutional Research and Assessment Office, Chau-Fang, walks with me and her dogs every other day through the Glen while we strategize about my plans during this summer and beyond. I am able to freely express my worries, goals and dreams with them, and I couldn’t be more grateful to feel at home, not only during this pandemic but since I had first stepped my foot on this campus.
Chau-Fang’s poodles, which the writer walks with. Photo courtesy of
Khuslen
(T) Tulga ’23
However, I know that this will change all too soon when classes end and summer starts. Will I be able to go back to Mongolia? Am I wasting my summer? Why didn’t I plan ahead?
During this global pandemic, some are locked up in their rooms, some are sick, some don’t know where to go during the summer, and we are all experiencing different sorts of grief, regret and anxiety. We are all too aware of people who do not have the same resources as we do, and we feel guilty for not grieving and suffering as much as possible. However, this vicious cycle of judging our emotions and comparing them to what others are feeling will only prevent us from withstanding this pandemic at our fullest potential. Now more than ever, it is important to show empathy to ourselves just as much as we are capable of empathizing with other people. Taking care of ourselves is not as easy as it sounds, as on some days, we have to force ourselves out of bed, shower, meet deadlines, take timed breaks, and manage our emotions. Still, the best thing that we can do for the people we love is taking care of ourselves through self-love, patience, gratitude, and empathy.
