Covid City – Winnipeg Free Press

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5 a.m.

3 minute read Saturday, May. 9, 2020

On a block of south Osborne Street where shuttered businesses outnumber the open ones, Chocolate Zen bakery glows in the slate-grey early morning light like a beacon of comfort.

Inside the tiny bakery, co-owner Barbara Rudiak is getting organized for another day of cake- and pastry-making.

Her pastry chef partners — Betty Lai and Douglas Krahn — will be in a bit later but there are still orders to process, events to prioritize and calls to return. Even in the economic ruin of a pandemic shutdown, it seems that just about everyone can make room for some cake.

“It’s comfort food, right?” Rudiak says. “At a time like this, we need all the comfort we can get.”

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Saturday, May. 9, 2020

Rudiak says business dropped significantly initially, but then people turned to cakes for comfort. (John Woods / Winnipeg Free Press)

3 a.m.

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3 a.m.

2 minute read Saturday, May. 9, 2020

“That initial couple of weeks, most of the conversations were COVID, COVID, COVID.”

Carla Chornoby has worked at Klinic Community Health for 17 years. The office where she works the overnight shift answering the phone as a crisis counsellor is small and unassuming.

The room is dark, with soft lighting to counteract the glow of computer screens.

Behind cubicles, trained counsellors seek to lend support to people who call in need; to hopefully have a meaningful conversation that ends in “somebody feeling better,” as Chornoby puts it.

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Saturday, May. 9, 2020

The number of calls to the Klinic crisis line has increased in the wake of the coronavirus pandemic. (John Woods / Winnipeg Free Press)

Midnight

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Midnight

3 minute read Saturday, May. 9, 2020

A young woman’s laughter punctuates an otherwise quiet scene as Tuesday turns to Wednesday near a downtown bus stop at Vaughan Street and Graham Avenue.

A bus arrives and she is gone, leaving a handful of other Winnipeg Transit riders to wait, their faces illuminated by cellphones, across from the looming edifice of the Hudson’s Bay Company. Even the venerable downtown landmark is a few years too young to recall a time quite like this.

COVID-19 has spurred a precipitous drop in bus ridership, forcing schedule reductions this week.

A No. 10 bus appears. Amber-coloured messaging calls out with a social-distancing reminder. St. Boniface beckons.

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Saturday, May. 9, 2020

People wait for their bus to arrive at the Graham Avenue bus stop in downtown Winnipeg just after midnight Wednesday. (Mike Deal / Winnipeg Free Press)

10 p.m.

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10 p.m.

3 minute read Thursday, May. 7, 2020

The moon is full in the northeast corner of the city and, as another day winds down, six-week-old Henry Sulkers is nowhere near ready for bed.

"Yep, this is what we usually do at this time of day," says first-time mother Dawn McDonald as she cradles her tiny newborn.

Her baby, a bright-eyed "night owl" with a perfectly round bald head, arrived March 23 after a planned caesarean section. The coronavirus had just been declared a pandemic; no visitors were allowed during their two-day stay at the recently opened HSC Women's Hospital.

Since then, Henry spends his days breastfeeding, wetting his diaper and sleeping. Oh, and he's managed to squeeze in a FaceTime call or two with his first-time grandparents in the western Manitoba community of Strathclair.

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Thursday, May. 7, 2020

Dawn McDonald and her six-week-old son, Henry Sulkers, in their home in Winnipeg on Wednesday. (Mikaela MacKenzie / Winnipeg Free Press)

7 p.m.

3 minute read Preview

7 p.m.

3 minute read Thursday, May. 7, 2020

Salvador Tait is perfecting his D-minor scale.

Normally, the eight-year-old's piano teacher, Madeline Hildebrand, would sit next to him, gently correcting his wrist placement or pointing to his music. But these are not normal times, and this is not a normal piano lesson.

Golden-hour sunlight streams into Hildebrand's tiny second-floor porch, where she has set up her keyboard. Instead of sheet music, her red music stand houses an open laptop.

Salvador, meanwhile, is at home on the upright in his family's living room. This evening's lesson is taking place over Zoom.

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Thursday, May. 7, 2020

Piano instructor Madeline Hildebrand teaches a virtual class to Salvador Tait in her home. (John Woods / Winnipeg Free Press)

11 p.m.

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11 p.m.

3 minute read Thursday, May. 7, 2020

At the corner of Portage Avenue and Colony Street, Perry Squires and Joel Hildebrand check on a half-dozen or so people who are hanging out in a bus shack late at night.

Instead of opening the door to ask if everyone is OK, the Downtown Watch ambassadors are forced to do the job behind a sheet of glass. Communicating through a window has become the new norm.

"Is everyone all right in there?" Hildebrand asks after knocking on the glass bus shelter to get everyone's attention.

There's an unresponsive man inside on a bench. Squires knocks and asks the lady next to the man to wake him up. She gives him a nudge and the man half-heartedly raises his head and waves off the men in red uniforms. Squires and Hildebrand nod and keep on walking.

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Thursday, May. 7, 2020

Downtown Watch ambassador Joel Hildebrand (left) and supervisor Perry Squires walk the streets of downtown. (John Woods / Winnipeg Free Press)

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9 p.m.

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9 p.m.

3 minute read Thursday, May. 7, 2020

Three brothers take their seats at a dining-room table laden with food: chicken samosas, saucy chickpeas, lentil fritters, sweet yogurt dumplings, two kinds of pizza, a pitcher of lemonade and jars of dates.

Above them, crisp paper lanterns and strands of shiny, painted salt-dough stars and crescent moons are products of more time spent at home this Ramadan.

At sunset, 8:56 p.m., the family breaks their fast with dates before heeding the call to prayer in their Southdale home.

The boys are first to make it back to the table for the iftar feast, each swooping in for a slice of cheesy pizza topped with halal pepperoni.

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Thursday, May. 7, 2020

Urooj Danish and her family break their Ramadan fast with prayers and an iftar meal at sundown. (John Woods / Winnipeg Free Press)

2 p.m.

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2 p.m.

5 minute read Thursday, May. 7, 2020

Clad in sneakers and scrubs, a health-care worker heading to his afternoon shift at Grace Hospital moves with a quick clip through the sliding double doors that lead to the atrium.

His stride, however, is interrupted at a “hard stop” just past the main entrance.

A handful of signs, hand-sanitizer dispensers and a pair of two-metre-long tables pushed together lengthwise form the checkpoint. Two gatekeepers who wear procedure masks and eye shields receive him.

Before he can head to work, he must successfully answer a series of questions. Does he have a fever or chills? A cough? Shortness of breath or headache? How about a sore throat or sore muscles?

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Thursday, May. 7, 2020

Health-care workers screen every person who enters Grace Hospital. (Mike Deal / Winnipeg Free Press)

Our team

2 minute read Preview

Our team

2 minute read Thursday, May. 7, 2020

A 24-hour project is a huge undertaking. Before the clock struck midnight on May 6, our staff spent many hours arranging and organizing who was going where at what time.

Between midnight on May 6 and midnight on May 7, 25 reporters and five photographers hit the streets to capture Winnipeggers' lives during the pandemic.

Once the calendar flipped over to Thursday, even more hours of editing, design and layout were required — at a breakneck pace — to bring the project to fruition by Friday evening's deadline.

Writers

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Thursday, May. 7, 2020

8 p.m.

3 minute read Preview

8 p.m.

3 minute read Thursday, May. 7, 2020

It's 8 p.m. on the nose as the last few stragglers pay for their groceries and trickle out of the Lilac Street Food Fare at closing time.

The small store is quiet now, shelves ravaged from another busy day, but there are still a few packages of toilet paper and Lysol wipes and three small bags of all-purpose flour in stock — a veritable holy trinity of most-wanted items during this pandemic.

Husni Zeid, owner of this location — one of the five Food Fares owned and operated by the Zeid family in Winnipeg — has been in the grocery business his entire life and has never encountered anything quite like the "pandemonium" that occurred when COVID-19 came to town.

"We’ve never seen numbers like this, we’ve never seen products flying off the shelves like this, we’ve never seen empty shelves like this, ever," he says.

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Thursday, May. 7, 2020

Food Fare owner Husni Zeid, owner, talks with his daughter, Hanan. (Mikaela MacKenzie / Winnipeg Free Press)

11 a.m.

3 minute read Preview

11 a.m.

3 minute read Thursday, May. 7, 2020

There are about 1,500 students at Maples Collegiate, one of Winnipeg’s most populated high schools. Without them, the campus is an ideal backdrop for a horror film.

Lockers are empty. Classrooms are dark. Even the building temperature is colder than usual, having dropped along with the number of sweaty teenagers walking the halls.

Dariusz Piatek, one of the few people here this morning, has come dressed in a sweater and puffy royal blue vest. The veteran mathematician opted to continue working out of Room 213 when classes were suspended indefinitely for Manitoba’s 210,000 K-12 students, owing to the COVID-19 pandemic.

Every weekday morning, Piatek, 53, sets up his devices to livestream Grade 12 pre-calculus. WebEx software allows him to use a webcam and screen-share an interactive whiteboard with his 41 students.

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Thursday, May. 7, 2020

Longtime Maples Collegiate math teacher Dariusz Piatek does his daily livestream using his laptop video camera and the SmartBoard in his classroom. (Jason Halstead / Winnipeg Free Press)

6 p.m.

3 minute read Preview

6 p.m.

3 minute read Thursday, May. 7, 2020

Winnipeg singles know dating can be a minefield at the best of times.

Engaging in the perilous mating ritual during a pandemic in which public-health officials constantly remind strangers to stay at least two metres apart, would seem almost impossible.

But for 29-year-old Leah Borchert, it’s preferable.

“I don’t like being touched until I know someone well," she says. "So this is ideal.”

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Thursday, May. 7, 2020

Leah Borchert goes on a digital first date with Eddie in her bedroom in Winnipeg. (Mikaela MacKenzie / Winnipeg Free Press)

5 p.m.

2 minute read Preview

5 p.m.

2 minute read Thursday, May. 7, 2020

It’s just after 5 p.m. and a handful of energetic goofballs is enjoying an outdoor playdate downtown, running, roughhousing and slobbering all over the place.

At Bonnycastle dog park, nothing has changed for the carefree canines, who are oblivious to the COVID-19 pandemic wreaking havoc around the world.

For their owners, the off-leash park on Assiniboine Avenue has been a welcome distraction from the pandemic, bringing some much-needed comfort during a difficult and uncertain time.

“I don’t know what I’d do without this place,” says Caroline Nicholson, as she scratches her well-behaved, two-year-old corgi-Rottweiler mix Chichi.

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Thursday, May. 7, 2020

Brent Lelond’s corgi, Jasper (right) and Ly’s mini golden-doodle, Parmesan, don't concern themselves with social-distancing at the Bonnycastle Dog Park. (Jason Halstead / Winnipeg Free Press)

4 p.m.

3 minute read Preview

4 p.m.

3 minute read Thursday, May. 7, 2020

Late in the afternoon at Willow Place family shelter, some residents have begun to gather in the dining room for the first shift of the evening meal.

The room is small. It can only seat a couple of families under normal conditions, but with the shelter’s pandemic precautions and social distancing measures, there is only room for four at a time.

Meals, usually served by staff on washable dishware, are served on paper plates and slid through the kitchen window that is only open a tad. Snacks, usually available throughout day in the kitchen, are pre-packaged and distributed at specific times in the evening.

Sanitization at the 24-hour shelter takes place almost constantly.

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Thursday, May. 7, 2020

Krystle sits on her bed in her room at a women's shelter on Wednesday. (Ruth Bonneville / Winnipeg Free Press)

3 p.m.

2 minute read Preview

3 p.m.

2 minute read Thursday, May. 7, 2020

What do you imagine people would say at your funeral? Well, if you die during a pandemic, not much.

That time of coming together to remember someone's life has been all but eliminated. There is no storytelling, no shared memories over dainties, no tears over coffee, no heartfelt eulogies delivered in crowded rooms.

Now, everything has a chilly feel to it.

Funeral homes have approached the new grieving reality in different ways. Some have ceased holding viewing ceremonies altogether because of the limit of 10 people at a gathering, but at Friends Funeral Service on north Main Street near Kildonan Park, viewings continue and the staff is preparing for one at the moment.

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Thursday, May. 7, 2020

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