In Between Worlds: Gathering Thoughts on the Coronavirus Outbreak back in China Jiaqi (Julia) Peng Edited by Joshua Kim Designed by Am C.
Writer’s Note: I wrote this piece around the end of February, when COVID-19 was affecting my home country China the most, and it focuses solely on the situation there. Given where we are now, however, readers will find it different from the global perspective they might expect from the topic. When I left home the morning of January 20th, everything seemed normal. The country was in the hustle and bustle of getting ready for the Lunar New Year just four days away. I’d probably seen something about an “unknown pneumonia” online but didn’t pay much attention. Even after I landed in the US to hear that a highly respected doctor had just confirmed this new virus could spread between humans, I still didn’t think it was a big deal. The next day, headlines of the first cases of “new pneumonia” across the country dominated the top 50 trending topics on Chinese social media. Fear lurked behind us. On January 23rd, the city of Wuhan was in lockdown. Intracity public transportation froze. Highways, train stations and airports were shut down. No one could get in, and no one could get out. That was the day most Chinese people realized that something was very wrong. A website posted daily official statistics of newly confirmed and suspected cases, as well as number of deaths and cured patients. It also showed a map marking China’s provinces with different shades of red, depending on the number of confirmed cases. Compared to other provinces, Hubei was colored with a very dark red. I watched as confirmed cases grew by hundreds and then quickly by the thousands, until the numbers slowly lost their meaning to their immense size. Eventually, the last uncolored bit of the map disappeared. I was convinced that for a long time onwards, these light and dark
red patches would be the first image that comes to mind whenever I see a map of China. On January 24th, Lunar New Year’s Eve, the day of reunion and happiness, social media was flooded with announcements from hospitals in Hubei requesting medical supplies such as masks and protective suits. Due to their short expiration date, hospitals carry small stocks of supplies, but have to replace any removed mask or suit. Unfortunately, factories couldn’t start production at once since workers were back in their hometown, and the lockdown hindered the transportation of supplies. Still, people managed to send everything they could find, but only to have their donations disappear into the void of Wuhan Red Cross Society. We watched donated masks somehow find their way to the market. We watched CCTV journalists blocked from further investigations. We watched a driver of a high-ranking official leaving the Red Cross with a whole box of masks, while doctors silently waited outside, unable to access supplies with their “letters of introduction”. We watched all this happen while medical workers covered themselves with plastic file bags and garbage bags, while they begged for supplies in desperate tears as their colleagues were infected, while they were soaked in sweat--not daring to waste any protective suits for the day. They were heroes, but just like you and me, they, too, were scared.
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