Chapter 1
The lockdown started around midnight of March 23, 2022 without any advance notice, right after the government said city-wide lockdown was nothing but a rumor.
I was urgently contacted by a security guard of my apartment building whom I know very well. He said he just got orders from his employer, the compound’s management company, that lockdown must be carried out right away.
Having been preparing for this scenario since Omicron hit South Africa, I quickly ran through the inventories of food and other essential stuffs to make sure we, a family of four, have adequate supplies to live through this sudden lockdown which would last five days according to the government. Then I went to bed.
The next morning, the official announcement came out. The government denied it was a city-wide lockdown, but rather a partial one — Pudong first, then Puxi. Five days each.
For those who are not familiar with the layout of Shanghai, the city is composed of two parts, Pudong, the east side of the Huangpu River, and Puxi, the west side.
On social media, people started to make jokes about this “partial” lockdown. Even my kids came up with one that “I didn’t eat all the cake! I just ate the upper half in the morning, and ate the lower half in the afternoon.”
PCR and antigen tests were conducted five days in a row. Fortunately, nobody in my building was positive.
We could get out of the buildings, take a walk in the yard, but were not allowed to leave the compound, which was okay for five days as many people believed the lockdown would be over then.
Five days came to pass like five weeks. Then the lockdown on the west side began. The east side, to many people’s disappointment, was still sealed.
Suddenly the rules were elevated. People were required to stay at home, not to leave the apartment at all. Delivery services were still available though, only the Little Bros, nickname of the delivery workers, could only drop everything at the gate of the compound, and then the security guards and other service staff would deliver to our doors. Well, to be accurate, they put groceries in the elevators.
Another five days came to pass. Once again, rounds and rounds of PCR and antigen tests. Once again, all negative, but still sealed.
Supermarkets were closed. Convenience stores were shut down. Restaurants takeouts? No freaking way.
Deliveries were getting much later to arrive. Some never came.
People started running short of supplies. Many made phone calls to the hotlines of the community, the Pudong District, and even the Shanghai Municipal Government. Some did get through, but nobody could get a definitive answer when the lockdown could be lifted and where to get essential supplies.
The representative of the Residents Committee, which is actually the entry level of government, quit the online group set up by the people who live in our building on the third day since the lockdown started. Just disappeared. Never showed up again. Not sure if he quit his job too.
The management company of our compound was not able to support its employees who were actually locked down with us. According to the security guards, “we must figure out how to survive this lockdown on our own while still having to do our jobs”.
The neighborhood started to organize itself. Dozens of online groups were set up — thank Goodness the Internet was still working, and people pulled every string they could get hold of to buy supplies, from rice to beef, from vegetables to vitamins, from smokes to beers.
Every order that could still be fulfilled included a portion for the security guards, janitors and floor managers who were stuck with us. The residents also donated foldable beds, blankets, pots, bowls and chopsticks etc. so that they could have hot meals cooked by the neighbors.
The lockdown continued on. So did the tests.
The antigen tests were way more unpleasant than the PCR tests. My kids hate being poked in the nose. My daughter who is nine years old resisted so fiercely at the first time that the doctor had to ask me to hold her head to complete the process.
Tests after tests. The kids were gradually getting used to the daily routine.
One day when they heard there would be yet another round of test, they asked me: “Daddy, is it gonna be PCR or antigen?”
I replied: “PCR.”
“Yeah! No nose-poking!” They cheered like it was a great victory.
Tears filled my eyes.
God bless the COVID generation.
