Ten Days in Xi’an: Episode Six
Episode 6: The final installment of journalist Jiang Xue’s remarkable account of a populous Chinese city in lockdown.
Acclaimed, independent journalist Jiang Xue documents the spiral of her city, Xi’an (with a population of more than 13 million residents), into complete lockdown.
6. “Xi’an Can Only Win”
The first day of 2022 has arrived. Early in the morning, I opened the curtains, the morning light is faint, and the streets are still as silent as a wasteland.
I picked up my phone and initially wanted to write a little about my New Year’s mood. In passing, I clicked on a video and saw in the Nanyaotou community not far from me, a young guy returning from going out to buy steamed buns surrounded by epidemic prevention personnel at the gate of the community, and they were beating him up.
On the screen I saw the shining white steamed buns spilled all over the ground, and I seemed to hear the sound of my own heartbreak. How can a person who beats someone else up face his own kind, someone who buys a little food in the cold wind? How can they put their hands on him? Can it be the case that even the tiniest amount of power changes people? Is violence the least costly solution in the eyes of the powerful? I silently turned off the phone. At this moment, I just hope that I can keep my eyes closed and spend this New Year’s Day peacefully.
The apparent silence of the city could not conceal its turmoil and chaos. From an individual’s point of view, almost every day since December 27, disasters have occurred. At first the disasters were from lack of food, and later it was more about calls for help for medical treatment. The newspaper office I once worked for set up a column called “Reporters’ Help”. Hoping to “help one means one less in need of help,” reporters would help citizens buy and deliver medicines, and solve other very difficult problems. Every day, thousands of messages asking for help are received.
The new year is here, and in the small community where I live, seals are affixed to the doors of every household. Because there are two confirmed cases of Covid in another building, I heard that according to the latest social “Covid-zero” policy, if there are more cases, all the residents in our community will be taken away for centralized isolation.
In the neighbours’ unit group (refers to a chat group for residents who live in the same unit of an apartment building), I could really feel everyone shivering. In the middle of the night of December 31st, everyone in the Mijiaqiao community were taken away for centralized isolation; this was near my house. And the people living in Mingdemen 8 Mile Community, who were dragged to Baqiao public rental housing for centralized isolation, were already asking for help. At least we were still in our own warm homes. At this time, there was no need any longer for property management’s reminders to stay in: everyone stays at home for fear of being pulled into isolation. There is no need for reminders. Meanwhile, in the neighbours’ unit group, everyone is calling out to help cheer each other up and to stay strong. In the chat group, one neighbour says, if we don’t want to be taken away for centralized isolation, all of us have to do better: first and most important, stop all shopping. Another follows up immediately and says, if you go downstairs, we should be very careful to ensure safety. The other voices her concerns in her post. She says she is worried about her five cats: if she was quarantined, who’s going to feed her cats? She also mentions, three of the cats are not hers but fostered at her home by a frontline healthcare worker who can’t go home. If anything goes wrong with these cats, she’ll feel really bad. A friend reminded me that it is better to do some simple preparations, so as not to be suddenly pulled into centralized isolation.
The seal on Jiang Xue’s door that forbids her to leave her room unless she is testing for COVID-19.
Deserted streets.
Strange scenes from a city in lockdown.
On January 3, another day passed, and someone in the group said, “Finally, another day has been saved.” This is how we live in the “prosperous world.”
At noon, I saw news of a girl named “Sun Flower” circulating on the Internet: her father had a heart attack, and he went out of the community to the hospital, and then reluctantly stayed; it dragged on for a few hours, and he had to undergo surgery, but in the end, it didn’t work… her father died.
I went through her Little Red Book blog (on Xiao Hongshu) to look for this girl who had lost her father. I wanted to know what actually happened to her in this cold winter. If I have the chance, I want to hug her. I also want to tell her that the hardships we have encountered should be recorded and should not be suffered in vain.
I left a message hoping this girl could contact me. But in the evening, there was no news. I found that the first page of her Little Red Book about her father’s death had been deleted. Fortunately, I had taken a screenshot, which shows that many people have followed her online. I saw in the comments, something to the effect of: In this ridiculous city, as long as it is not a death from the virus, it doesn’t count as death.
The dusk of January 3 fell again. This is the tenth day after the lockdown. I didn’t wait for the news of the girl on Little Red Book, but I saw a message from a friend I used to know well, a long paragraph, probably to applaud for the “zero community transmission policy.” At the end there is a sentence: “Xi’an can only win, there is no other choice, there is no retreat.”
I am speechless. I silently sent him a screenshot of the girl’s story about the loss of her father. Seriously, I don’t want to have any debate with him.
But in the end, I couldn’t help but post a few paragraphs to him.
I said: “the government’s slogan, such as ‘Xi’an can only win,’ this is the correct big talk, cliché, and empty talk. Similar to it, there is also: ‘We will do whatever it takes,’ this sentence is good, but it is specific to every ordinary person, we may think that here, ‘we’ are ‘us,’ or that we are the ‘price’ that has to be paid?”
I continued: “After this incident, if there is no reflection, if no lessons are learned from the blood and tears, and if you are busy making meritorious awards and singing praises, then people’s suffering will only be in vain.”
I don’t plan to see him again. But I want to tell him: this city, no matter how this suffering is ultimately told in the grand narrative, tonight, I only care about the girl who lost her father; I care about the girl who went to an unknown anti-epidemic worker to ask for sanitary pads in tears; the young mother who told her plight over and over again. And those who are humiliated, hurt, and ignored. They didn’t need to suffer like this.
I also want to say to him: In this world, no one is an island, and the death of each and every person is the death of everyone. The virus has yet to kill anyone in this city, but other things just might.