Arek Rataj
by Arek Rataj from Wuhan, China
It was December when I came to Wuhan with my wife and we were impressed by how spacious the city was but had no clue that by the end of January it will shrink to a size of a prison cell.
On January 29, with trepidation, I'm shaving off my beard in Wuhan's university apartment after learning that Chinese nurses, due to hygienic reasons, cut their hair to battle the novel coronavirus outbreak. I was forced to establish a solid set of hygiene rules and used common sense since there was no pathogen for the virus.
The epidemic is believed to have started in November 2019 in China's Wuhan. I arrived there in December and started lecturing at a local university. It was the beginning of January when Zhang - one of my students – told me in the classroom about a mysterious disease that develops in another district of the city. “It doesn't concern us” – he said calmly. It was approximately 15 km from the campus. By that time, there were only a few people hospitalized. There have not been any deaths yet. "It's just some kind of flu or something" - Zhang said with conviction and I believed him. From then on, I started following reports from various outlets. Hearing that this is a new strain of the virus and the pathogen is completely unknown, I knew that we're dealing with something unprecedented.
I decided to visit a hospital, which was the first to hospitalize infected patients. After leaving Hongtu Boulevard station, I saw a map of the district, on which I quickly located the Wuhan Medical Treatment Center hospital – the one I was looking for. I considered the lack of security guards as a good omen, however, I was quickly spotted by a doctor whose face seemed not just exhausted but also deeply troubled. “Can I help you? – he asked and kind of ordered to follow him until we reached the reception. To my astonishment, I saw the medical staff in protective suits as if I suddenly found myself in the middle of a scientific mission in outer space. I knew that each of my gesture is scrutinized, so I did not dare to press the camera shutter. They didn't answer any of my questions. "Please follow the news" – they suggested. It's way more serious than I ever imagined - I thought.
In the middle of January, the number of infected people started growing at an alarming rate but it didn't prevent me from taking photographs outdoor. I established a solid set of hygiene rules and used common sense. On January 23, Wuhan City was shut off from the rest of the world and placed under an unprecedented quarantine. Sanitation workers were spraying streets. Staff with biometric devices appeared in Walmart. Corona fears triggered panic buying. Some people threw their pets out of the windows for fear they are carriers. All bridges and tunnels, as well as movement between city districts, were blocked. Schools and universities have canceled the start of the next semester. In other Chinese provinces, citizens were banned from leaving their homes, with the option of leaving every two days to replenish their food supply. Some people shouted from the balconies "Wuhan Jiayou!" ("Be strong, Wuhan!").
Messages on social media were suggesting that it is better to stay at home. The streets have deserted and the crowds usually present on them have disappeared. Closure of the public transportation, however, didn’t stop me from photographing outside, but I prayed that I would not get the usual fever, because that would mean only one thing: going to a crowded hospital for medical exam among patients from whom I could easily get infected. At that point, the rapid spread of misinformation became unbearable.
The stores were closed. One of the few which was open all the time was Walmart. The personnel with special temperature measuring devices appeared at the entrance door. When the temperature was higher, a bit above 37.3, Walmart staff would not let in. They would call the authorities and take the customer to the nearby hospital.
It was painful enlightenment and people were terrified. We suddenly found ourselves locked down in a virtual prison with millions of guiltless inmates. And there was only one to be blamed - a serial and invisible killer virus. Despite the panic, I felt compelled to go out and document the outbreak of the new type of coronavirus. Among my subjects were the construction of a new hospital built in 10 days, biosecurity checkpoints, empty streets, airport, and – eventually - evacuation from Wuhan.
II.
With the activation of the EU Civil Protection Mechanism by France, we learned that the EU crisis staff began preparations for the evacuation. We took the decision to flee. Nobody really knew when we would be evacuated. We only received information from the Polish embassy that negotiations with the Chinese government were very hard. Finally, on February 1, I got a call to go to the French Consulate for evacuation, but with no guarantee of a ticket for my Filipina wife who hadn’t had a visa to Europe. We decided to try but previously vowed not to separate.
Staff at the terminal wore goggles, gloves, and yellow hazmat suits. One Chinese staff told me that he was worried evacuees would spread the disease outside of China. We received bracelets and identification papers after passing the medical examination from EU medical staff. We were relieved to find a Polish diplomat with a visa for my Filipina wife.
We headed to the immigration after baggage check-in, lowering our masks to provide positive identification to immigration officials. The A380 plane was awaiting us when we reached the boarding area. We said goodbye to Wuhan on Feb 2.
When we landed at a military base in Marseille, France, some passengers clapped, but we were simply too worn out. We transferred to a Polish military plane that took off from France and descended on a 3 hour-long flight through a foggy night to Poland. On February 2, at 10:00 pm, all evacuees arrived safely in Poland, and started undergoing a compulsory quarantine at the infectious disease hospital.
SELF-PORTRAITS: PHOTOGRAPHERS IN CONFINEMENT
Curated by Svetlana Bachevanova (USA/France)
A collection of self-portraits made by photojournalists from five continents during the unprecedent lockdown due to the corona virus pandemic.
Photographers are people on the road, living to document the lives of others.
Constrained by the lockdown, many of them had their first experience of being still long enough to begin seeing and understanding small details about who they are, their lifestyles and values, that were overshadowed while they were busy. These self-portraits express their experience.
This is a unique collection of self-portraits from some of the best lenses in photojournalism at an historic moment.
Photographers in Confinement is a project in process and I welcome additional submissions from photojournalists at svetlana@fotoevidence.com
I am looking for potential exhibition partners in the USA and abroad.
Svetlana Bachevanova is a founder and publisher of FotoEvidence, long time photojournalist and curator.
