ISSUE 3 | Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close

Editor's Note

The three stories of this issue were originally published on BIE别的, a content platform for independent youth culture and sub-cultures.

The first story is told by He Laoshi from Wuhan. She has spent almost every day at home in Wuhan since the city lockdown. The one exception was when she went out to meet with her boyfriend’s parents. A risky mission accomplished. 

The second story is told by Xiao Tu. Originally from Wuhan, she has lived in Beijing since 2019, working as an editor at “BIE别的”. In January, she was going to travel back home but canceled her train ticket last minute. That didn’t make her new year holiday any easier, though. Video chatting with parents became Xiao Tu’s new daily routine. 

The third story comes from Li Yang who lives in New Zealand but has family members in China. Having been following the news from another hemisphere, she reflects on how emotionally impactful the novel coronavirus outbreak has been to her, and in particular, how the death of Doctor Li Wenliang has compelled her to fundamentally question some of her prior beliefs. Wuhan may be geographically distant from Auckland, but what’s going on there at the center of the epidemic feels incredibly close.

 unCoVer 

▼

Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close: 

From Wuhan, Beijing & Auckland

Translators: Sandy, Acker, Natasha, Jiara, Huiyin

Stories transcribed, edited and translated from: 

BIE别的

1

The Duck from Huanan Seafood Market

He Laoshi | Wuhan

I live in Wuhan with my family.

My boyfriend, who works in another city, had planned to come back to Wuhan right on the afternoon of Wuhan’s lockdown day – we didn’t know it would happen back then. But he wanted to come back earlier, because he couldn’t wait to see his family, especially his parents. Another reason was that we had agreed to meet each other’s parents and have dinner together in our homes. 

So, fortunately, he was able to change the train ticket to an early morning train prior to the quarantine announcement, when a lot of people were canceling their tickets. He managed to get on that early train. At around 2:30 am (on January 23), when he was halfway through, the government released the first announcement from the Command Center that no one would be allowed to leave or enter Wuhan anymore, meaning that the city borders would be closed tight.

Police officers, sanitation workers, and delivery workers on the street, Wuhan

Source: https://mp.weixin.qq.com/s/CvCGf51-kGqiRRnG3XlE_g

We had planned to visit each other’s parents on the third and fourth day of the Lunar New Year. However, at around 4 pm on Lunar New Year’s Day, the government announced another order that from the next morning, the use of vehicles would be strictly controlled in the central urban area. My boyfriend told me that since we probably wouldn't be able to see each other afterwards, he would come to my house on the Lunar New Year’s evening and bring us some new purchases for the Spring Festival. He said he wouldn’t stay for dinner as he didn’t want to make everybody nervous, especially my parents. Upon my persuasion, however, he stayed after all. He had met my parents before, but had never really sat down with them to have a real meal together. Finally, we made a formal introduction!

Later, we carefully read the announcement about the driving ban again and found that though driving was strictly controlled, it wasn’t completely prohibited. So, despite my father’s slight objection, I took the risk and went for lunch with my boyfriend’s family. 

My dad had asked me to go grocery shopping near my boyfriend’s place in the Hongshan District, which he believed was relatively safer than the Qiaokou District where we live. When I brought up this shopping duty, my boyfriend’s mom got really nervous. She urged me not to go, and packed up a whole bag of food for me to take back home.

Considering the food shortage during the lockdown, it was really a lot: There was some sort of spiced duck and starch noodles, among others. When I got home and took out the duck, I found out that it was bought from the Huanan Seafood Market (This is the seafood wholesale market in Wuhan that has been widely considered the source of the COVID-19 outbreak. See endnote 1)! But I ate it regardless. Brave soul, aren’t I?

Not much vegetable left in the supermarket, Wuhan

Source: https://mp.weixin.qq.com/s/CvCGf51-kGqiRRnG3XlE_g

In all, my boyfriend and I managed to meet with each other’s parents during the outbreak — what a risky mission. To my amusement, my mom's impression of my boyfriend has gotten better since. I guess she was moved by his courage and sincerity of coming all the way to bring us gifts even in that particular period. 

On the other hand, the outbreak is really giving my grandmother a difficult time. Her health conditions weren't great to start with, and recently she’s been feeling particularly unwell. The doctor said she ought to be hospitalized. But because of the outbreak, hospitals in Wuhan are extremely short of beds and resources. So there is no other way but to keep my grandma at home under observation, to see if she could hang in there for a little bit more. As long as she’s not getting significantly worse, we would not take her to the hospital (to avoid the risk of cross-infection - editor’s note). 

I heard that it’s really challenging for people with cancer and leukemia, who need dialysis treatment, and who go to the hospital regularly for a medicine refill or dressing change. In this case, they probably have no choice but to rely on the services provided by the neighborhood unit (endnote 2). For patients who need dialysis treatment, for example, the neighborhood unit service could help escort them to and from the hospital. Nonetheless, the outbreak has taken a heavy toll on their lives.

An old man taking his wife back home from the hospital, Wuhan

Source: https://mp.weixin.qq.com/s/yS4NG8sWCZdhj4Vf8Npn2Q

2

Their Tenacity, My Disillusionment

Xiao Tu | Beijing

Right before the Lunar New Year, with all the news flooding the internet, I decided to stay in Beijing rather than go back home to Wuhan. 

I woke up to snow the other day in Beijing. It was unexpected, came and went in melancholy. My mom said that they’d had a few lovely days when the dark clouds lingering above Wuhan went away, but now the sky had gone dim and somber again - just like the people under it.

A woman walking on the street with her dog, Wuhan

Source: https://mp.weixin.qq.com/s/9jv4lRPSqDb_l7EKEN_nAw

The other day during a video call, my mother told me that a power outage occurred in their kitchen. Now the kitchen ventilator, the water heater, and the pH water purifier that cost her 20,000 RMB (2,871 USD) had gone useless. 

“Bad news,” Said my mother with a forced smile. “It wasn’t tripping. It has to be something else. Your father checked the meter but still couldn’t figure out what’s wrong.”

“Shouldn’t you call for someone to fix it?” I asked in apprehension.

“No. I’m scared of this virus. Besides, where can I possibly find an electrician available to make repairs in Wuhan at this point?”

“But how can you cook then? We don’t even know how long this lockdown will last.” 

“I can still light a fire on the stove, and plug in the rice cooker in the living room. We can subsist on that for a while. There’s no need to worry.”

A year and a half ago, I moved to Beijing. The distance has since enabled my mother and me to be more civil and gentle with each other. The moment I canceled my train ticket back to Wuhan, I felt I was extremely selfish. 

Empty streets on Feb 15, Beijing 

Source: https://k.sina.com.cn/article_2620088113_9c2b5f3102000sjgt.html?from=news&subch=onews

My mother said on the phone that it was right for me to stay away. Wuhan announced the quarantine the day after I told her my decision. “Your father and I had prepared plenty of food. None of it would taste as great as it should, now that you are not with us. I’m just worried that you won’t have enough to eat in Beijing.”

My mother’s concerns turned into reality. The other day from my cupboard I dug out a pack of rice - I bought it when I first arrived in Beijing, and had only taken it out twice for cooking. Not until after I washed all the vegetables did I find out that the rice had an indescribable, stinky smell. But I didn’t want to waste the efforts I had paid to prepare for a nice meal. I went to the vending machine downstairs, but guess what? Even the Nongfu Spring-branded rice, usually quite unpopular among customers, was sold out. Impressive.

I told my mom that I had washed the stinky rice five times before I cooked it. It didn’t taste strange.

“Your dad asks you to throw it away! Don’t eat it!” I heard my dad yelling in the background, his voice overlapping with my mom’s. Ironically, though I’m yet to figure out how to live properly on my own, I’ve still chosen to stay away from my family in Wuhan during this special period.

On the following day, my mother told me that they received all the goods I sent them. I asked whether she wore a mask and washed her hands while and after picking up the package. She did everything as I told her. She said that there was no “84” disinfectant (a chlorine-containing disinfectant based on sodium hypochlorite) at home, and she couldn’t find it in the store either. She used a blow dryer to disinfect all the clothes she had worn outside. The kitchen still had no power, but my mother said: “We’ll figure it out after the Lantern Festival.”

Some bottles of “84” disinfectant 

Source: https://b2b.hc360.com/viewPics/supplyself_pics/415709143.html

My parents’ and grandparents’ generations have a distinctive tenacious character -- sometimes, that could be stubbornness. That’s why debates with my mom were always left unresolved. This time, however, I’m grateful for that indomitable trait.

The 2020 Spring Festival gives me a feeling that the whole world is pressing onto me at full speed from all directions. I told my friend that it’s like when a short-sighted person puts on a pair of glasses: Things suddenly become incredibly clear. Such disillusionment can be devastating. Every day when I check the information on WeChat moments or Weibo (a Chinese microblogging platform), I see the rocketing number of confirmed cases and helpless calls for help. Aside from disorientation, I had this feeling that I’m unsure to call despair.

Lights up above the Yangtze River in Wuhan

Source: https://mp.weixin.qq.com/s/yS4NG8sWCZdhj4Vf8Npn2Q

3

The Death of A Total Stranger

Li Yang | Auckland

It has been almost twenty years since I moved to Auckland, the biggest city in New Zealand, where I attended college, worked and got married. When I came in February 2003, I was occupied with adjusting to the new environment. Besides, I was too young and naive to worry about things beyond my meals and my English -- things like SARS.

Auckland, New Zealand

Image courtesy of Li Yang

This year, while checking the news on WeChat moments and Weibo every day during the Spring Festival, I felt increasingly unsettled. At work, I shared the latest news with a few Chinese colleagues, worrying about our family and friends in China. It feels like I’m torn by two parallel universes. On the one hand, I’m living a comfortable and eventless life with seaside walking and swimming after work and BBQ parties on weekends. On the other hand, I’m watching infected families who are trapped at home calling for help on Weibo. For some, their most popular social media posts might end up being their last words. As some patients are left untreated and pass away one after another, Wechat even developed a new function of making a notarial will through its video call (endnote 3).

Suddenly, masks, hand soaps, and disinfectants all became out of stock in all of the pharmacies and supermarkets in Auckland. Local people haven’t started wearing masks as there haven’t been any confirmed cases. But there were news reports about discrimination incidents against Chinese people who wore masks in malls.

These became out of stock quickly in Australia too.

Image courtesy of Li Yang

Though I haven’t experienced any discriminatory remarks in person, I now choose the most secluded exercise area when I go to the gym. Maybe I’m being too sensitive - for the past few weeks, as the only non-white person in this gym class, I’ve found that the exercise equipment next to me is always vacant, while all the others are occupied.

The gym Li Yang often goes to

Image courtesy of Li Yang

Although New Zealand initially stated that they wouldn’t put a travel ban on China, it immediately followed Australia’s measures to embargo all tourists from China after the WHO declared the severity of the coronavirus epidemic. A good high school friend of mine was supposed to travel to New Zealand in February but had to cancel the trip.

I’ve suddenly become more sensitive to my racial identity. Having made a lot of multinational friends here, I thought I had blended in and stopped considering myself as an outsider. Recently, however, I’m starting to pay more attention to my surroundings wherever I go. I find myself suffering from the elusive concern of being excluded because of my yellow skin and black hair. In public places, I also mentally rehearse over whether I should fight back or not if someone shouts disrespectful words at me.

Asian pedestrians on the street, Auckland

Source: https://www.nzherald.co.nz/nz/news/article.cfm?c_id=1&objectid=12121129

I never anticipated that the outbreak would be so emotionally wrecking for me. The strongest repercussion so far is that the event has compelled me to introspect and reflect on who I am. I used to see myself as a righteous person who supports equality and liberty. But it was not upon reading about Dr. Li Wenliang’s (endnote 4) demise did I realize how powerfully the death of a total stranger could strike me. Had it not been for the coronavirus outbreak, I wouldn’t have known of his existence for the rest of my life due to our geographical distance; and yet my heart aches – in addition, I deem myself despicable.

I’ve witnessed a lot of injustices and hypocrisies, but what have I done to alleviate them? Almost nothing. Even worse is that I have chosen to be paralyzed, to convince myself that there’s nothing to complain about a life with colorful choices, a life far away from the edges of survival. But that’s not the truth. Any individual, no matter how socially unaware or detached, is inevitably affected by social realities. Just look at what’s happening now – it’s a fact that by having stayed silent when I should’ve voiced out against injustices and supported those underprivileged, I have also contributed to today’s circumstances.

The dusk of Auckland

Image Courtesy of Li Yang

Tomorrow the sun still rises, and I’ll still try to search if I could buy facemasks somewhere, still be worried that the virus would suddenly creep up near me someday, and still feel heartbroken every time when reading about experiences of complete strangers. Are these emotions useful? Perhaps not. Would the pain fade away as time passes? Likely yes. But I’m convinced that this viral outbreak is a turning point: within the anguish, it urges all of us who retain even the last bit of conscience to reflect on what we could do, and, fundamentally, what kind of person we are.

I have a daughter who’s turning three next week. She gets up early every day, and I can hear her running into my room with her energetic baby voice, “Mommy come on, get up!” 

And I would remind myself: wake up. Don’t let them knock you down. Wake up, stay bold, and keep calm. 

People relaxing by the riverside wearing masks, Shanghai

Image Courtesy of Joyce

Endnote 1: On Jan 24, 2020, researchers revealed in The Lancet medical journal that the first patient had no exposure to the Huanan Seafood Market that was shut down on January 1 over fears – which were later confirmed – that the novel coronavirus was linked to its wildlife trade.

Endnote 2: 1000-3000 households comprise a neighborhood unit (she qu 社区)，under the management of a residents’ committee (ju wei hui 居委会). Typically, in large cities, 10-15 shequ fall under the supervision of a street office (jie dao ban shi chu 街道办事处). Street offices and residents’ committees form the basis of Chinese urban administrative system.

Endnote 3: This function was not actually initiated by Wechat itself. To reduce risks of infection through face-to-face contact, Shenzhen Pingshan Notary Office（深圳坪山公证处）started to provide certain notary services on the WeChat platform, including the option of making a notary will via video chat.  

Endnote 4: Li Wenliang (12 October 1986 – 7 February 2020) was a Chinese ophthalmologist at Wuhan Central Hospital. On December 30, 2019, he warned his colleagues in a WeChat group about a new “SARS-like pneumonia” - which was later proven to be COVID-19. On 3 January 2020, Wuhan police summoned and admonished him for "spreading rumors on the Internet." Later, when his early warnings were exposed to the public, he was recognized as the “whistleblower” (chui shao ren 吹哨人) for the novel coronavirus epidemic. In its original Chinese context, this epithet is a praise of Li’s foresight and alertness that alarmed many of his colleagues when critical public attention was meager. Not long after returning to work, Li contracted the virus from an infected patient and died from it on February 7, 2020 (Wikipedia: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Li_Wenliang).

The three stories of this issue were originally published on BIE别的, a content platform for independent youth culture and sub-cultures. The source materials (audio and text) have been edited. Special thanks to Alex for her permission and trust. 

如果您想阅读/收听源中文内容，请点击文末“阅读原文”。

Transcription: Agnes Zhu, 文韬

Proofreader: Huiyin, Joyce, Eva, Amy, Abby, Ryan 

Editor: Joyce, Sandy 

Typesetting: Lili

往期阅读 ▼

Contact Us | 联系我们

[e-mail]

Follow Us | 关注我们

Instagram: uncover.2020

Facebook Page: 

https://www.facebook.com/2020.unCoVer

Website: https://uncoverinitiative.home.blog