The Guardian
Gaobeidian in Beijing lies deserted due to the coronavirus. Photograph: Lily Kuo/The Guardian
Residents say they are trapped in their own homes as the country grapples with the expanding outbreak
by Lily Kuo in Beijing
by Lily Kuo in Beijing
It is a hive of activity compared with the neighbourhood that surrounds it, known for its Hui Muslim restaurants and halal butchers. Next to the ward the Changying mosque has been shut, as has a local community centre. A few shoppers are stocking up on meat but many shops are closed.
One pharmacy has barred its doors and drilled a hole in the window for customers to use to speak to the pharmacist, protected behind the glass. A sign on the door reads: “Face masks sold out.” Still, a couple, already in masks and goggles, runs up to the window asking if any masks are left.
In Beijing, shops and businesses are shuttered with quickly written signs explaining their temporary closure “due the epidemic”. The city’s perennially congested streets have for the past two weeks been nearly empty, made even quieter by recent snowfall, as residents continue quarantining themselves at home. Some restaurants, unsure when they can reopen, have started selling off their stores of produce and meat to residents stockpiling food.
Across China, from the capital to rural villages, lives have been put on hold as the country grapples with the expanding coronavirus, whose death toll and infection rate show no signs of slowing. Residents from areas hundreds of miles from Wuhan, the city at the centre of the outbreak, as well as smaller cities nearby, describe a state of limbo, amid suffocating quarantine measures, uncertainty about work and school, dwindling supplies of fresh food and medicine, and increased anxiety about the real extent of the virus – and how much authorities are doing to contain it.
In a residential compound of Ciyunsi in Beijing, tenants learned on Thursday that one of their neighbours had contracted the virus. The person, with suspected symptoms, had been taken away days earlier by police and health workers in hazmat suits, according to residents.
Wei, 36, who lives in the same building, was surprised it was not disinfected. The building is not on lockdown and residents were still seen coming and going on Friday. Worried about infection from the water supply, Wei and her parents do not turn on the fan in the bathroom.
While she is not anxious for herself, she says she is worried about her parents, who are in their 60s. Wei goes out once every two or so days to buy food. The longest she has stayed out since the outbreak began was two hours.
“I go and get everything. I don’t let them go out,” she said. “It’s useless to be nervous. We should just try our best to go out less.”
Factories have remained shut and the workers who staff them have been told they cannot leave their towns and villages to return to work. Some villages have begun to issue passes; others require those who want to leave to apply for a permit first.
In several areas, schools are not to reopen until the end of the month, prompting a flood of advice online for parents on how to keep their children engaged while under de facto house arrest. Families, used to seeing each other only a few times a year, have been hemmed in together for more than two weeks.
“People can’t go out and they are too bored, so they start fighting,” said Wei.
In Guiyi, Guangxi province, authorities have ordered everyone to stay home, except for one designated family member who can go out to purchase supplies – a trip that should last no longer than three hours.
The quarantine measures are worst for those in Hubei province, where officials have locked down Wuhan and neighbouring cities. Zhang, who is in her final year of university overseas, came back to Wuhan for the lunar new year to surprise her parents.
“Now my parents and I are trapped in our own home,” she said. “I cannot get out of the city, much less the province. I can only hope this disaster quickly passes and all the innocent people can return to normal life.”
Authorities have repeatedly stressed their commitment to sharing information, with daily updates about the number of cases and casualties.
But residents are aware of the government’s inclination to withhold information in the interest of maintaining social stability and already angry over the delay in reporting the current outbreak.
Many say they mistrust officially reported numbers in their own areas. The death of a doctor in Wuhan, who was punished for trying to warn colleagues about the virus, has only exacerbated public anger.
In Wenzhou, a coastal city in Zhejiang province about 500 miles (800km) from Wuhan, one resident, Zheng, said: “We are completely disappointed. They are lying, we know they are lying. They also know that we know they are lying, and yet they are still lying.”
Another critical resident in Xuzhou, in the southern province of Jiangsu, said: “This is truly a manmade disaster.”
For many, fear of getting the virus is not their primary concern. “The psychological aspect of the isolation goes unseen from the outside,” said Liu, who lives outside of Xi’an in Shaanxi province. “Video calls and chat groups are what keep people sane.”
Across Beijing, various neighbourhoods and villages are shut to outsiders. Some areas have multiple checkpoints, where commuters must have their temperatures taken. Those detected with a fever are turned away.
But residents also describe a newfound sense of community as people pick up groceries for older neighbours. With compounds short on workers, residents have volunteered to clear the snow and ice themselves.
“Ordinary people can’t be afraid. If everyone is afraid, our country will be in trouble,” said a 42-year-old resident in Changying surnamed An, who lives near the new isolation ward.
As the crisis continues, others have grown tired of staying home. At April and Cafe in Beijing’s Hutong neighbourhood of Gulou, customers have started to return. On Thursday afternoon, with seven people in the bar, it is the busiest it has been since the outbreak began, according to its owner.
A group poses for a selfie wearing face masks and holding cocktails. A man nurses a drink while reading a book. A bottle of hand sanitiser sits on his table.
“There’s no need to be overly worried. If everyone works on improving their defence – like exercising more, eating better, washing their hands – we should be fine,” said Guo Song, 30, the bar’s owner.
Others say they have been through worse. Gao Wang, 75, lives in Gaobeidian in Beijing, sandwiched between two residential compounds that have recently had cases of the virus.
“Even during Sars when my family stayed at home, I still went out every day,” he says, standing in the snow outside his home doing exercises, rotating from the waist and stretching his arms – something he has been doing daily for years.
“If you catch the virus, there isn’t much you can do. I’m old now. What’s the point of worrying?”
Additional reporting by Lillian Yang and Michael Standaert
As 2020 begins…
… we’re asking readers, like you, to make a new year contribution in support of the Guardian’s open, independent journalism. This has been a turbulent decade across the world – protest, populism, mass migration and the escalating climate crisis. The Guardian has been in every corner of the globe, reporting with tenacity, rigour and authority on the most critical events of our lifetimes. At a time when factual information is both scarcer and more essential than ever, we believe that each of us deserves access to accurate reporting with integrity at its heart.More people than ever before are reading and supporting our journalism, in more than 180 countries around the world. And this is only possible because we made a different choice: to keep our reporting open for all, regardless of where they live or what they can afford to pay.
We have upheld our editorial independence in the face of the disintegration of traditional media – with social platforms giving rise to misinformation, the seemingly unstoppable rise of big tech and independent voices being squashed by commercial ownership. The Guardian’s independence means we can set our own agenda and voice our own opinions. Our journalism is free from commercial and political bias – never influenced by billionaire owners or shareholders. This makes us different. It means we can challenge the powerful without fear and give a voice to those less heard.
None of this would have been attainable without our readers’ generosity – your financial support has meant we can keep investigating, disentangling and interrogating. It has protected our independence, which has never been so critical. We are so grateful.
As we enter a new decade, we need your support so we can keep delivering quality journalism that’s open and independent. And that is here for the long term. Every reader contribution, however big or small, is so valuable. Support The Guardian from as little as $1 – and it only takes a minute. Thank you.
Read more: https://www.theguardian.com/world/2020/feb/08/china-ghost-cities-fear-coronavirus-streets-deserted-outbreak
No comments:
Post a Comment