Wuhan Diary Page 4
It is already Day Six of the Lunar New Year, eight days since the quarantine began. What needs to be said is that although the people of Wuhan tend to be naturally optimistic, and things around the city are becoming increasingly orderly, the reality here inside the city is growing grimmer by the day.
For dinner I had a small bowl of rice porridge. In a little bit I’ll go on the treadmill to get some exercise. Little by little, bit by bit, I’m recording everything here in my little file.
January 31, 2020
If you are just going to fawn all over the officials, please restrain yourselves.
It is the seventh day of the Lunar New Year and the weather is bright and sunny. Might this be a good omen? This week will be the most critical stage in our fight against the virus. The specialists are all saying that by the fifteenth day of the Lunar New Year, all infected individuals should start showing symptoms. That should be the turning point. So we just need to hang in there for one more week. After this week, all the infected patients should be segregated, and those not showing symptoms should be free to leave their homes; then we’ll be free—at least, that is how they are imagining it. It has now been nine days since the city went into quarantine, and we have already gotten through the bulk of it.
I grabbed my phone before even getting out of bed and immediately saw some really good news: That young man that I work with sent a group text saying that he has “not been infected after all. I’m now completely back to normal. I had an upset stomach yesterday and must have taken too much medicine, which caused those symptoms! I know I’m a stupid kid! Anyway, once this whole virus business is over, I’m treating everyone to dinner to make up for giving everyone such a scare!” I was still giggling from that message when I saw another bit of news. There is a guy from the provincial song-and-dance troupe that a lot of my friends know; after he fell ill, he got on the wait-list to be admitted to the hospital, but by the time notice arrived that they had a bed for him he had just passed away. I also heard that quite a few government officials from Hubei have been infected and a few have already died. My god, how many families here in Wuhan are being destroyed by this disaster? And up until now I still haven’t heard a single person stand up to take responsibility or apologize. Instead, I just see an endless number of people writing essays or giving speeches that shirk the responsibility onto others.
Who can the families of the deceased cry out to? Who can they curse? I saw an interview that a reporter did with a Chinese writer, and in the interview he talked about “winning a resounding victory against the virus.” I was speechless. Take a look at Wuhan! Take a look at the entire country! Millions of people are living in fear, thousands of people are hospitalized with their lives hanging by a thread, countless families have been destroyed. Where is this “win”? Where is this “victory”? Where is the end to all this? This writer is a colleague of mine in the same profession, so I feel bad cutting into him like this. But don’t these people think before they speak? But that’s not it. They are just trying to say something to please the higher-ups; he definitely thought it through. I was happy that right after that, I discovered another essay by another writer also criticizing those comments. The essay was extremely critical and really took that other writer to task. This tells me that there must be a lot of writers out there with a conscience. I may no longer be the chair of the Hubei Writers Association, but I am still a writer. I wanted to remind my fellow Hubei writers that while many of you may be asked to write essays and poems celebrating all the great achievements of the government, I hope that before you pick up your pen you are able to reflect for a few moments about who it is that you should really be celebrating. If you are just going to fawn all over the officials, please restrain yourselves. I might be old, but I will never tire when it comes to speaking out.
I have been rushing around the kitchen all morning cooking for my daughter; I plan to take some food over to her tonight. She returned from a trip to Japan on the 22nd and didn’t get back to her apartment until after midnight. As soon as she returned, the quarantine was imposed so she never had time to go shopping or make any proper preparations. I delivered some food to her just before the Lunar New Year and again on the first day of the New Year. That lasted her a few days, but now she is running out and was talking about ordering some takeout. Her father and I are both vehemently opposed to her ordering takeout, so I decided to take her some food myself. I don’t live that far from my daughter; it is usually just a 10- or 15-minute drive. I checked with the police and they said it is no problem to go out on the roads. So I decided to cook some things for her and take them over myself. I feel a bit like “I’m bringing rations to the Red Army!” They don’t allow people to enter her neighborhood, so I had to meet her at the entrance to her neighborhood and hand the food off to her there. She is the only one from her generation in my family who decided to remain in Wuhan, so no matter what, I have to protect her.
The gate to our building is on the second ring of the city, and it is usually bustling with traffic and crowded with pedestrians. These days there are very few cars and even fewer people. The main roads are all decorated with lights and lanterns for the Chinese New Year, yet all the stores along the side streets are closed, making everything appear dark and desolate. All the buildings along the main roads are decorated with lights for the Military World Games, which flicker from every direction.6 Back when the games were being held, I found those flashing lights incredibly irritating; they were really quite the eyesore. But now as I drive down these empty streets, those festive, sparkling lights somehow give me a sense of comfort. Things have indeed changed.
Some of the smaller supermarkets are still open. There are also a few vegetable peddlers set up on the sidewalk. I bought some vegetables from one of those peddlers and went to the supermarket to pick up some milk and eggs (I actually had to go to three markets before I found one with eggs in stock). I asked the storekeeper whether or not she was afraid of getting infected by staying open during the outbreak. She answered frankly: “We’ve got to go on living; so do you!” That’s right, they have to carry on, we all have to carry on; that’s simply all we can do! I always admire those working-class people and often strike up a chat with them; somehow that always gives me a strange sense of security. Even during that two- or three-day cold spell when it was windy and rainy and the outbreak was really out of control, the streets were almost completely empty. Yet even then there would always be at least one sanitation worker out there, meticulously sweeping the streets. Whenever I caught a glimpse of one of them, I would immediately start to feel guilty for feeling so scared and anxious; one sight of them is always enough to immediately set me at ease.
February
February 1, 2020
And as he is saving them, I hope he saves himself, too.
The weather is still clear today. It is now Day Eight of the Lunar New Year and I’m feeling a bit nostalgic for all the excitement that normally fills our courtyard area this time of year. Once again, I started looking at my phone before getting out of bed and saw some statistics that were just published yesterday. The result of those figures were: There continues to be an increase in both the number of confirmed cases as well as the suspected cases of coronavirus infection; however, the rate of infection has clearly begun to slow down. Moreover, it has continued to slow over the course of the past three days. The number of patients with critical symptoms has also begun to decline. The mortality rate is holding steady at around 2 percent, as before. And the number of patients who have recovered and suspected cases that have been ruled out has also increased. This is all great news! All of this demonstrates that the quarantine measures taken of late have been very effective. My eldest brother sent this news out to our family chat group this morning; I can’t confirm that all these statistics are accurate, but I certainly hope so! And so I keep coming back to say, If Wuhan can make it through this, the rest of the country can, too.
Now that I think back, it was actually my elde
st brother who first told me that this virus was contagious. There are actually just us four siblings in that family chat group. Not even my sister-in-law and niece are in the group. Since both my brothers are university professors, they often have access to really good information from their colleagues and friends. That is especially the case for my eldest brother; he is a graduate of Qinghua University and teaches at Huazhong University of Science and Technology, so he often gets a lot of valuable information. At 10:00 a.m. on December 31st, that brother forwarded me an essay entitled “Suspected Case of Virus of Unknown Origin in Wuhan” and then in parentheses was the word “SARS.”
My brother said that he wasn’t sure if this news was authentic. But my other brother immediately chimed in and suggested that none of us go outside. My other brother works in Shenyang and offered for us to come visit him for a while so we could huddle down and wait things out there. He said: “It is 20 below in Shenyang, and no viruses can survive here for long.” But my eldest brother reminded him: “It was actually hot climates that hindered the spread of SARS. Don’t you remember what happened in 2003?” A bit later my eldest brother sent another text confirming that the news of this new disease was true and that a group of specialists from the National Health Commission had already arrived in Wuhan.
My other brother was quite shaken by this news, since he lives very close to the Huanan Seafood Market,1 which is the epicenter of the outbreak. I didn’t see those texts until around noon and when I did, I immediately told them both to avoid hospitals for the time being. My brother isn’t in the best of health, and he often goes to Wuhan Central Hospital for his appointments, which is where there is a concentration of patients with flu-like symptoms. He quickly sent another text saying he just looked outside and Central Hospital looks quiet as always. There were no reporters outside, as he had originally suspected there would be. It wasn’t long after that that I started to receive videos from friends reporting on the situation at the Huanan Seafood Market and Wuhan Central Hospital. I immediately forwarded the news to my family chat group. I even reminded my brother to be sure to wear a face mask if he goes out. I even suggested that he just come to my apartment after the New Year to get away from that area for the time being. After all, I live in the Jiangxia District, which is a bit further away from Hankou. But he just said he would sit tight for the time being and see what happens. He didn’t think it would turn out to be anything to be too concerned about. He also didn’t think that the government would block information about what was happening; that would be a true blow to the people. My thoughts on the matter were pretty close to my brother’s. I figured that there was no way the government would censor news about something so important. How could they possibly stop the public from learning the truth about what was happening?
On the morning of January 1, my elder brother reposted a story from the Wuhan Evening News about the Huanan Seaford Market closure. My other brother said that things around his neighborhood were still about the same and everyone was going about their normal business as usual. As concerned citizens, we were all really tuned into the news that was happening that day. The protective measures they recommended that day were actually about the same as right now: Wear a face mask, stay home, and don’t go outside. I’m sure that most Wuhan residents who had lived through the terror of SARS are just like me and took this news quite seriously. However, it wasn’t long before the official government line came down. Based on the findings of specialists, they boiled everything down to a little eight-word maxim: “Not Contagious Between People; It’s Controllable and Preventable.” As soon as we heard that, everyone breathed a collective sigh of relief. After all, we never consume exotic wildlife and had no plans to go to the Huanan Seafood Market, so it appeared that there was nothing to be concerned about.
The reason that I am recounting all these details is that this morning I read an interview with Mr. Wang Guangfa.2 Mr. Wang was part of the second team of specialists sent to Wuhan to investigate the outbreak. Shortly after he declared “it’s controllable and preventable,” he himself became infected with the coronavirus. Of course, that early statement might not have been directly coming from him; after all, it was a collective decision of the team. But I expected him to at least show some sense of remorse, self-reproach, or—dare I say?—reflection. As members of the team of specialists, they, at the very least, were responsible for giving the people of Wuhan information that severely underestimated the nature of this virus. Not matter how useless and bureaucratic those officials from Hubei and Wuhan might be, and no matter how many people attempt to cover up the truth in order to show how prosperous and powerful our country is, as a doctor, couldn’t Mr. Wang have been a bit more prudent when he made that initial statement? Instead, he made that proclamation with such resolution and decisiveness. By the time that Mr. Wang was infected on January 16, it was already quite clear that this virus “Was Contagious Between People.” Yet for some reason we did not hear Mr. Wang’s timely revision of that earlier statement; nor did we hear him sound the alarm for people to start taking precautions. It was only three days later when Zhong Nanshan3 from the Chinese Academy of Engineering arrived in Wuhan that the truth was finally revealed.
Mr. Wang’s interview was from yesterday. The people of Wuhan have just gotten through their incredibly pathetic Lunar New Year (we might be optimistic, but it really was a pathetic New Year), patients are in a terrible state, the dead are leaving behind shattered families in their wake, the quarantine has led to massive losses nationwide, and the entire country has seen the bravery and hard work of Mr. Wang’s fellow doctors. And yet in his interview Mr. Wang, who bears a certain degree of responsibility for how things were conducted, didn’t express even one ounce of regret over how things were handled. There wasn’t a hint of an apology. Not only that, but he behaved as if he had done the people a great service. He said: “I was originally going to come down to Wuhan to take a quick look at the overall situation here. If I hadn’t gone into some of the patients’ rooms and the sick ward, I wouldn’t have been infected myself! But now that I’m sick, everyone now knows just how serious this coronavirus truly is!” I was truly dumbfounded after I heard those words. I suppose Mr. Wang isn’t afraid of the Wuhan people cursing him to hell.
The Chinese people have never been fond of admitting their own mistakes; nor do they have a very strong sense of repentance, and they are even less likely to stand up and truly accept blame for something. Perhaps this is connected to our customs and culture? But as a doctor, his job is to cure the sick and help the injured; how could he see so many people struggling with illness and dying in desperate circumstances because of some irresponsible statements he made and not have any sense of the role he played in this? Even if the people haven’t placed the blame on him, what about he himself? Is he able to just psychologically walk away from this free and clear? Isn’t there even an ounce of guilt in this man’s heart? Didn’t he talk about charity? And now here he is going on and on about his own great sacrifice. In ancient times when the state faced great calamities, even the emperor knew enough to issue an imperial decree blaming himself for the suffering of the people. But what about Mr. Wang and the other members of that team of specialists? Don’t they plan on issuing an apology to the people of Wuhan? Don’t they feel that this is an important lesson for them in their careers as medical professionals?
Forget it, I don’t want to go on anymore about this right now. I’ll just pray that from today onward Mr. Wang does a better job of curing the sick and helping the injured. And as he is saving them, I hope he saves himself, too.
February 2, 2020
One speck of dust from an entire era may not seem like much, but when it falls on your head it’s like a mountain crashing on you.
It is Day Nine of the Lunar New Year. How many days has it been that we have been hanging on? I’m not in the mood to even count. Someone wanted to come up with a trick question and asked if you can identify what day it is without looking at your cel
lphone—and you have to respond immediately without thinking about it. Now that is a mind zinger right there! How can anyone be expected to remember what day of the week it is? The fact that I know it is Day Nine of the Lunar New Year is already something of a miracle.
The weather is starting to turn a bit gloomy, and it even rained this afternoon. Those patients running around town to different hospitals trying to get treatment are going to be in even more desperate straits. When you go outside to take a look around Wuhan, everything seems to be orderly and normal just like always, except for the fact that there are hardly any people outside and all the lights in all the buildings are turned on. Most people don’t seem to be lacking food or supplies, so as long as nobody is sick in your family, things are fairly stable. The city isn’t the purgatory that a lot of people seem to be imagining it to be. It is instead a rather quiet and beautiful, almost majestic, city. But all that changes the second someone in your family falls ill. Immediately everything is thrown into chaos. It is, after all, an infectious disease. But hospital resources are limited. Everyone knows that even when doctors’ family members get sick, they usually don’t get admitted to the hospital unless it is a particularly serious case. These past few days we are in what the specialists predicted to be a period of “viral outbreak.” I expect I will be seeing or hearing even more grim news in the days to come. The video I found most difficult to watch today was a news clip of a daughter trailing behind her mother’s funeral car, screaming through her tears. Her mommy was gone and now her remains were being driven away. The daughter will never be able to give her mother a proper burial; she probably won’t even know what they did with her mother’s ashes. In Chinese culture, the rites of death are so central to who we are, perhaps even more important than how we live, which makes this all the more heartbreaking for a daughter to face.