Mask on and phone in hand, I step outside before the volunteers in hazmat suits have time to knock. If you miss the call, keep knocking until someone answers. Nobody is exempt from this.
This massive city of 25 million people is at the center of China’s efforts to stamp out the country’s largest-ever Covid outbreak. No one is allowed to leave their residential areas, not even to buy groceries, meaning we have to rely on the government or private delivery drivers, thinned by massive demand. This puts enormous pressure on the system – and for many people the restrictions are more oppressive than the threat of the virus.
Outside my apartment, myself and my neighbors in hazmat suits parade past our locked front gate in a socially distanced procession, the only time I’m allowed to leave my apartment. But they never lead us out of the gate, it’s been sealed with padlocks and bike locks for more than three weeks.
As we walk to a table covered with a blue tent where medics are waiting to administer the test, I feel a surge of emotion – relief at being able to get out into the fresh air and spring sunshine, and fear – what is if I test positive? ? I worry about being sent to Shanghai’s spartan quarantine system for days or weeks. Images of the facilities suggest I might face cramped, unsanitary conditions with overflowing trash cans, no running water, and dirty communal toilets.
But I’m more worried about what might happen to Chairman, my rescue dog.
What happens to your pet if you test positive remains a troubling gray area with no clear solution. Horror stories have been circulating the internet about abandoned pets, and one was recently killed with a shovel by a person in a hazmat suit.
If I am quarantined I hope that one of the local vets or community groups will be allowed to take care of my dog. I’ve packed a small bag of essentials for the chairman that’s by the door in case someone can pick it up when I’m sent away.
But that is unlikely. Except for essential workers, the whole town is like me, caged and locked up.
Crawling after extra food
In late March, before the city was ordered to stay at home, panicked shoppers left grocery store shelves empty.
Desperation has now set in.
Videos show people yelling at community workers, begging them for food and saying they are starving. Others show crowds at a quarantine food distribution center fighting over a small shipment of vegetables.
In my community, the government delivers groceries every few days. Deliveries range from a box of vegetables and eggs to a vacuum-sealed piece of pork or traditional Chinese medicine (TCM). The alms alone are not enough to feed one person, let alone an entire family, for a day or so.
I ration my food and make the most of what arrives in the box and any extra groceries my community has been able to source. Most of my meals lately have been an egg and carrot combo – you have to get creative.
Many communities have set up group chats with their neighbors on the Chinese social media app WeChat. There are occasional offers for group purchases, but options are limited. Stores are closed, delivery drivers blocked, supply chains disrupted.
One of my neighbors writes in the chat group: “What should I do if I have no food?” The community liaison writes back: “There is no group shopping – vegetables are now in short supply.”
I spend much of my lockdown days placing multiple grocery orders hoping one will arrive. Last week I was woken up by a phone call just after midnight – one of my orders had actually turned up.
I urgently tried to reach our community liaison officers to assist me with the salvage, but after a long day at work they were asleep. So I had to leave the groceries in a box on the street outside the compound until 6am, hoping nothing was stolen or spoiled until I could get it. Luckily it was still there in the morning.
Some of us have chosen to create no-contact “drop spots” where we trade food to diversify our diets.
For example, when I was walking home from a community Covid test, one of my neighbors texted me: She had left a block of cheese in the shady spot over her bike. When I later went to my Covid test I took their cheese and replaced it with two oranges. She then collected the fruit as she was let out for her next Covid test.
Authorities seem to be hearing the complaints. Over the weekend, Shanghai Vice Mayor Zong Ming choked on a news conference and apologized to the city’s residents for not living up to expectations. And on Monday, authorities promised to ease lockdowns in some areas.
Anger and an uncertain future
Starting in Wuhan, I have covered every aspect of this outbreak in China. The early abuse and alleged cover-up of the initial spread seemed to have been forgotten by the public as the central government pushed ahead with its ‘zero Covid’ policy.
For two years, China largely managed to keep the virus out by closing borders and rolling out what appears to be a sophisticated contact tracing system that uses smartphone technology to track us and our potential exposure to the virus.
Officials have perfected mass testing with the ability to quickly process cities with populations in the tens of millions. And they’ve mostly relied on targeted, rapid lockdowns — closing down a neighborhood, offices, or even a mall with a confirmed case or close contact inside — trying to avoid shutting down entire cities to minimize the social and economic damage .
Entire cities have been in lockdown in recent months – including Xi’an, Tianjin and Shenzhen – but nothing on the scale of Shanghai, where the adrenaline and community spirit of containing the virus has been replaced by fatigue, frustration and despair.
From the confines of my 600 square foot apartment, I ask myself, is this really happening? In Shanghai of all places?
A modern city of high-rise buildings and restaurants, Shanghai once rivaled cosmopolitan centers like Paris and New York. Now millions of residents are struggling from the confines of their homes for basic needs.
That’s not to say life in Shanghai won’t continue as it was, but the actions – or inaction – of the past few weeks, coupled with the constant uncertainty over the past two years over what harsh restrictions might suddenly appear in the name of the Covid prevention, leaves many feeling increasingly disconnected from this city and from each other.
On Monday, the US State Department ordered non-essential consular personnel and their families out of the city, citing the rise in Covid-19 cases and the impact of the restrictions imposed to contain it.
Most of the expats I know have either already left or are dying to get out. The reason? “This is not sustainable” is a common refrain.
mental. Emotionally. Physically. It is not.