‘We are human, we are hurting’: Families separated by Wuhan quarantine as coronavirus death toll rises

Before the Chinese city of Wuhan was locked down to contain the deadly new coronavirus, more than 5 million people fled, but many chose to stay and wait out the storm, while some even fought to return home to care for isolated loved ones.

Sixty-one-year-old Yixian Chen was in Singapore visiting her newborn grandchild when the Chinese government announced that transport in and out of Wuhan, where Chen lives with her sister and elderly parents, would be suspended to quarantine the city of 11 million.

Chen’s 55-year-old sister developed pain in her throat and chest and quarantined herself in the upper level of their family home – leaving her parents, aged 85 and 90, to care for themselves. By Chinese new year’s eve, her sister was too weak to get herself to hospital.

On the first day of the Chinese new year, when families usually gather in celebration, Chen’s son Chris went to his mother’s room and found her in tears. “I need to go back. I want to go back,” she said.

The virus has killed more than 600 people, most of whom were elderly or had underlying conditions, and Chen’s parents fall into a very vulnerable group. “I wanted her to stay but I knew she had to go back,” Chris says.

Her daughter-in-law scoured the internet for flights for days before they were able to book the last flight out of Singapore on 29 January.

When she returned, Chen took her sister to the hospital and was relieved to find that she had not been infected with the new strain of the virus. With medication she began to steadily recover.

The government has been both praised and admonished at home and abroad for the heavy-handedness of putting over 50 million people on lockdown to contain the disease.

Dr Christian Chan, a clinical psychology professor at Hong Kong University who studies the psychological effects of family separations in the aftermath of disasters, says that though governments are bound to make drastic decisions under such exacting circumstances, “any responsible government should also consider the importance of keeping families together”.

“Policy makers have to of course be mindful of needs, not just the practical, physical, and medical needs of their citizens but also their psychological security when anxiety is high and people are panicking and the uncertainty about how long it will last is still out there.”

Chan adds that he hoped academics with the freedom to do so would advocate for the Chinese government, and their own governments, to consider these needs.

The Chens live in Hankou, the most urban part of Wuhan, where the virus has been most devastating. Their home is 1.2km from the wet market where the virus is thought to have made the jump from bats to humans.

Across the Yangtze River from Hankou, in the university district of Wuchang, a Taiwanese national named Ray Wu is self-quarantining in her apartment. Wu moved to Wuhan three years ago when her company opened a department store in Wuchang.

While countries like the US and France evacuated their citizens from Hubei province, both Taiwan and Hong Kong were unable to successfully reach an exit agreement with Chinese authorities.

Wu says the Taiwanese consulate told her company that mainland authorities said it would be “too dangerous” to transport so many possibly infected people back to Taiwan.

Despite pleas from her family, Wu said she did not want to return to Taiwan. “I would not want to bring the virus back to Taiwan, to my family. I am safe and healthy – it will be alright. My parents worry but I just tell them everything is going to be OK,” she says.

Wu planned to return to Taiwan in March but the Taiwanese government recently announced a mandatory 14-day quarantine for any citizens returning from the mainland.

Many abroad eager to help by sending supplies to loved ones on the mainland and Hong Kong shared accounts online of futile searches for face masks in cities from London to Toronto as the global supply has slumped.

Chinese dissident author Ma Jian wrote on Twitter that he “scoured London pharmacies” looking for surgical masks to send his sister in Shandong Province after she queued for four hours to buy a ration of two masks.

Jian bought 100 masks for £90, “almost five times the usual price. I hope they reach her safely,” he said.

Chinese health officials originally said the virus would likely be contained by March, but as confirmed cases approached 30,000, a senior government official told Reuters that containment by then is unlikely.

Jiang Nan, a 32-year-old tech worker living in Hankou, another city in Hubei province, says he hoped to return to work at the end of February when his office’s government-imposed quarantine lifts; but as infection numbers soared, hopes to resume his “normal life” have dwindled.

“Fortunately my parents came to Wuhan before the virus spread,” Nan says, “but then we couldn’t go back to our hometown for the Spring Festival so we stayed here and now there is nothing we can do, but… we are together.”

Though they are stuck in the epicentre of the disease and Nan has had a cough for over 10 days, he remains humbly optimistic. “We are all afraid here but my parents are healthy so I think my family is safe,” he says.

Confined at home, Nan has been working to improve his English, and while the people he interacts with on his English learning app express “concern for Chinese people”, Nan says other online content implying that Chinese people are not civilised and China “gave the world another problem” has made him feel “embarrassed”.

“I understand,” he says. “I understand why people want to close their borders and why they are thinking about us this way, but I think most people care about us and know we are human and we are hurting.”