Foreword
In May 2020, I was fortunate to take part in FACE2020, a Toronto photography exhibition about the pandemic. One of its projects invited us to collect the experiences and reflections of friends around us, then edit them into an audio archive. Unfortunately, space was limited, and the exhibition could ultimately present only a selection of edited recordings.
To make up for that omission—and to thank my friends for their support—I have decided to present every audio clip I collected here, complete, unedited, and without commentary, in the interest of objectivity and authenticity.
Because there are so many recordings, I have divided them into two parts. This is Part One, containing eight recordings. The link below leads to Part Two:
Enough from me. Click each waveform below to hear these voices for yourself:
Voices, Unedited
Ms. T, healthcare worker — Toronto, May 2020I am a nurse working in a hospital, and I would like to talk about the emotional journey I have been through as a healthcare worker since the pandemic began. It has been almost two months since Canada went into lockdown. Every sector of society has experienced things we have never faced before: schools closed, businesses shut down, social contact suspended. For those of us in healthcare especially, our firsthand experiences in the hospital have left me more bewildered and anxious than at any other time in my twenty-odd years in medicine.
I still remember when Canada confirmed its first positive case. Our department held a meeting every day to discuss how we would handle the approaching outbreak. Earlier, over Lunar New Year, many of our colleagues had returned to China to visit family, just as Wuhan closed its roads and went into lockdown. At the time, anyone returning from somewhere other than Wuhan did not have to isolate. Later, as the situation developed and Canada confirmed more and more cases, the isolation rules kept changing. Hospital policy changed from one day to the next—sometimes the rules at night were already different by morning.
Because the pandemic had spread across the globe, protective equipment was needed in almost every corner of the world, and masks in particular were in desperately short supply. Faced with inadequate supplies and protection, some colleagues weighed the risks and decided to resign. Many were frightened and uneasy, and watching the confirmed cases and deaths climb every day only made that anxiety worse. Of course, no one blamed those who left. When your own safety and your family’s are under threat, I do not think anyone can fault the choice you make. Whatever you decide is probably the right decision for you.
I still remember the indescribable fear when our department had its first confirmed positive patient. It felt as though the virus—and death—were drawing closer and closer. Each time I came home, exhausted in body and mind, I would suddenly feel so much more relaxed, and I would sleep very deeply. But sometimes I would wake with a start and lie awake for the rest of the night, only to have the alarm drag me out of bed early the next morning for work. All the way there, I would wonder what I was about to face at the hospital. My department experienced an outbreak as well: several patients were infected inside the hospital, and one colleague after another contracted the virus and had to isolate at home. A department already short-staffed was pushed even further. Those of us who stayed on the front line—we called ourselves comrades-in-arms—encouraged one another, gritted our teeth, and kept fighting to protect our patients’ lives.
Throughout the pandemic, we received support and care from people, organizations, and communities across society. Protective equipment and food donated from every direction regularly arrived at the hospital. Some people called us heroes; others called us warriors. But those of us in medicine were simply doing the work that was ours to do. Saving lives and tending the injured has always been our duty. Still, at such an extraordinary time, with equipment scarcely more adequate than millet and rifles, we remained on the front line without hesitation. I think we deserve to give ourselves a little credit for that.
They say only those who have travelled barefoot know how to cherish a pair of shoes, and only those who have endured hardship know how precious an ordinary life can be. Even when hope is mixed with uncertainty about tomorrow, we must find a way to let our feelings breathe. Someday, when our lost freedom is restored, we will know how to treasure it. Let us keep going together.
Mr. R, food wholesaler — Toronto, May 2020Spring has come around again. After more than two months of clear roads and easy driving, I still get up, go to work, and do my job, and I am genuinely grateful for that. Wholesale has taken a major hit during this period. Even for people like us, working in the business of putting food on the table, sales have fallen dramatically. Most of our restaurant customers have obviously disappeared or closed their doors, so there is basically no reason to call on the few that remain. All we have left now is the supermarket business. Their supply is largely being kept afloat by the handful of bigger wholesalers still operating. So whatever varieties we have are what the supermarkets sell. They do not have much choice.
Good grief—when will this ever end? I have no idea. But at least we have something to be grateful for: here in Canada, we still have enough to eat and drink. That counts for something, doesn’t it?
Come to think of it, without even realizing it, I have become one of those brave souls heading against the tide.
Ms. W, healthcare worker — Toronto, May 2020In January, during Lunar New Year, a sudden epidemic altered the course of all our lives. Major cities in China abruptly went into lockdown, and the whole country mobilized against the outbreak. Many classmates, friends, and former colleagues we knew joined medical teams and travelled to Hubei to help. Once we learned how severely the area lacked personal protective equipment, those of us overseas could not stop worrying about people back home. I joined volunteer efforts to organize donations, purchase protective supplies, and send them to China.
Before the supplies we had donated even reached our relatives and friends in China, the unthinkable happened: thousands of miles away, here in Canada, the virus began spreading through patients infected in other parts of the world. At first, every part of our healthcare system and every hospital was notified that the outbreak had been anticipated and that, according to the health authorities, preparations were in place. Yet at the most critical moment, we were told that all N95 masks had to be reserved for centralized use, and every mask in our second-line department was taken away. What followed was terrifying. Major hospitals announced severe shortages of PPE, leaving them entirely unprepared for the rapidly spreading outbreak in Canada. When we shared the news on social media, our friends and local Chinese community groups immediately pulled together, organizing donations of money and supplies from every direction to provide frontline healthcare workers with essential PPE. Even as mask prices soared and masks became as precious as gold, our compatriots and friends gave generously and selflessly. Alongside my regular shifts, I spent all my spare time working with a volunteer pandemic-response group to collect protective equipment and coordinate donations. As a friend put it, if I was not on my way to pick up supplies, I was on my way to deliver them. Every day, the passionate support of our community moved and encouraged me. Receiving their donations often brought tears to my eyes. I have never seen another ethnic community pull together against the pandemic with the same determination as the Chinese community, or voluntarily isolate at home so conscientiously in support of frontline healthcare workers. We were busy and exhausted every day, but our hearts were warm. To borrow an advertising slogan: “I stay here for you; you stay home for me. We stay together and grow stronger.”
Thanks to everyone’s efforts, the curve is gradually flattening and beginning to trend downward. Different parts of society are slowly reopening and the economy is starting to recover. I am sure this will cause some fluctuations in the outbreak, but we are confident that we can overcome this human catastrophe. Those of us working in healthcare overseas will see the second half through to a successful finish.
Ms. S, IT professional — Toronto, May 2020The pandemic has not affected my work very much, because our company was already well ahead of the curve. It had encouraged people to work from home for a long time. Before the pandemic, we generally worked from home at least one day a week, and every employee had a laptop rather than a desktop computer. We also used flexible seating at the office: whoever arrived could take any available desk. No one had an assigned seat, and you packed everything away at the end of each day and kept your belongings in your own locker. If you did not come in, someone else might take the desk you had used. The company’s infrastructure and remote-working software were already well implemented, including the VPN, so working from home is basically no less efficient than working in the office. I actually enjoy it. Cutting out the commute gives me two extra hours a day to do things I like, such as cooking and photography. It makes me very happy.
The other change at home involves my daughter. Since starting university, she had hardly ever come back to stay with us. During the pandemic, she has been home more often, sometimes for a week or two before returning downtown for a week. We have had many more chances to see one another, and I have discovered how capable she has become. She can cook all kinds of delicious food, which her younger brother loves, and she often makes me a cup of coffee. It has been lovely. If 2020 marks the beginning of the work-from-home era, I truly hope it can continue this way.
Another thing that has struck me is how well the Canadian government has handled the situation. Our prime minister speaks outside his home every day, rain or shine, updating everyone and keeping our spirits up. Our premier has even turned himself into a food blogger of sorts, encouraging everyone to stay home and practise social distancing. They have done all of this extremely well. To be honest, it is something I never experienced under the political system I lived under before. Government assistance for people with low incomes has also been very effective. I do not qualify for a penny myself, but I think it benefits society as a whole and supports its healthy development, so I am very much in favour of it.
Most of all, I hope my parents and all my friends make it safely through this period. If we all work together, there is really nothing to fear.
Mr. M, IT professional — Toronto, May 2020Let me share some of my own feelings about the pandemic. I have been in Canada for more than twenty years now, and I have lived through a few major events: the September 11 attacks in 2001, with those horrifying images of planes striking the World Trade Center that still seem vivid today; then the SARS outbreak; and later the 2008 financial crisis, when venerable banks that had seemed invincible suddenly collapsed. Yet, on the whole, none of those events affected our everyday lives so directly. COVID-19 has been different. At first, it seemed like an ordinary outbreak confined to China. Then cases gradually began appearing around the world. Flights were cancelled, shops closed, states of emergency were declared, and people were told not to go out. The whole world changed. People could no longer come into contact with one another; everyone had to stay home, watching all kinds of figures online and feeling the far-reaching impact of the disaster. Closer to home, countless companies have been affected. We cannot go out to eat and drink, play in the football matches we love, or watch Messi play. Even a trip to the supermarket feels like visiting an infectious-disease ward: difficult and time-consuming. We also happen to have a new graduate in the family whose start date at a new company has been postponed. I truly hope some kind of miracle will bring this to an end soon. Otherwise, more social problems will emerge, and the worsening economy will hurt even more families. I also hope relations between China and the United States can ease, so that everyone can find their way out of this predicament as quickly as possible. God bless everybody. That is all I have to say. Thank you.
Mr. C, government employee — Toronto, May 2020One of the most noticeable things about this pandemic, I think, is that more and more people have begun growing vegetables at home. I find that very interesting. For one thing, gardening helps fill a lot of time. Everyone is staying or working at home, so they have more time than usual, and growing flowers, plants, or vegetables gives them something to do. Second, if you grow your own vegetables, you need to shop less often, which naturally reduces your chances of catching the virus. But the main point, I think, is that a household is a little like a country. The world’s economies complement one another: some countries concentrate on product design or ideas, while others may be better at manufacturing. We all know which countries those are. After this pandemic, nations will place more emphasis on self-reliance, and the same is true of growing vegetables. More individual households are becoming self-sufficient, almost as if we were returning to an older life in which men tilled the fields and women wove cloth. Humanity is reverting to a more primitive way of living. I cannot say whether that is good or bad. Perhaps human society has reached a point where some kind of return is necessary. I do not know. In any case, I have started watching vegetable-growing videos online and picking up a few tips, because I would like to try it myself. The boss at home—my wife—never used to let me grow vegetables. But so many people around us have taken it up lately that she has finally granted me permission. I think I will begin with garlic shoots, and perhaps grow some garlic chives later. We will see whether I can turn this little gardening experiment into something more, and perhaps discover some of the pleasures of farm life.
Ms. L, government employee — Ottawa, May 2020Since self-isolation began, nearly all my children’s extracurricular activities have stopped, apart from a few online classes, leaving them with a great deal of free time. Many parents around us are anxious, convinced that their children are doing nothing and simply wasting time. We do not see it that way. On the contrary, I think this unexpected stretch of freedom is remarkably precious: it lets them clear their minds and explore what genuinely interests them. Our elder daughter, for example, normally has to be badgered into practising the piano. Now we leave her alone, and she plays every day of her own accord and teaches herself new pieces. Her younger sister has recently fallen in love with two things. One is baking: she makes little treats, pancakes, fruit cups, and other desserts. The other is coming out for a walk with me every day, chatting idly as we go. I cherish that intimate time between mother and daughter. Life leaves its traces little by little in these small, ordinary moments. They are memories we share, full of warmth and happiness. The pandemic has also made us reconsider the order of our needs. What truly matters in life? What can we give up altogether, and what can we greatly reduce? We have discovered that most of the things we cannot do without are not material needs. During isolation, our relationship with nature has also come sharply into view. Before the pandemic, I spent an hour commuting each day, had busy afternoons, and often finished work late. By the time I came home and ate dinner, I almost never went out again. Now that I am home every day, I have suddenly discovered all the walking routes around our neighbourhood: a small lake, woods, mountain-bike trails, and all kinds of wildlife. My younger daughter comes out with me every day, and together we have discovered creatures we never noticed before: red foxes, porcupines, white-tailed deer, wild turkeys, Canada geese and their goslings, and many more. Each day we can see the seasons turning and time flowing past. She has learned to recognize Venus, the brightest object in the northwestern sky each evening, as well as the Big Dipper and how its bowl points toward the North Star. She can identify the red cardinal, the blue jay, and the robin with its brown back and orange-red breast. She even knows that robin’s eggs are Tiffany blue. Human activity is gradually diminishing, while the activity of the natural world inevitably grows. It gives each of us a chance to look inward, slow down, and return to a simpler, more authentic way of life. To me, that has been the pandemic’s greatest surprise. I will end with this: Less is more. Focus on what sparks joy in your life. Thank you.
Mr. Z, artist — Toronto, May 2020If I were to talk about it, I think I would sum it up in three ideas. First: seeing human nature. Second: seeing heaven and earth. Third: seeing humanity in all its forms.
What do I mean by “seeing human nature”? When Wuhan first went into lockdown, the internet erupted with demands for accountability, angry denunciations, fear, and rumours flying everywhere. It was an extraordinary commotion. After what happened to Li Wenliang in particular, I began to feel that none of it meant anything, so I stopped speaking. There was basically nothing left to say. At the time, I posted something on social media. I said: Do not be misled by how tense, frightened, and furious everyone seems right now. The moment the situation improves, the singing and dancing will resume; people will go right back to dancing and horse racing as before. The Chinese people have an extraordinarily powerful capacity to endure. How powerful? You can torment them however you please—any way you like. Their capacity for self-hypnosis and self-recovery is exceptionally strong. Never mind vaccines: the most advanced defence of all is the collective consciousness of the Chinese people today. It is immensely powerful, and no virus can bring it down. So I felt there was little point in saying anything else, and I no longer wanted to speak. What I saw above all was the more pessimistic side of human nature. Everyone is very clever. They know perfectly well what kind of structure they live within, what they should say, and what they should not. They understand it with astonishing clarity. Clever beyond belief.
Then what do I mean by “seeing heaven and earth”? Heaven is heaven, and earth is earth. Heaven may carry a sense of the intangible, coloured by a kind of romanticism. Earth means being grounded in reality. Looking at this pandemic in practical terms, people have plenty of sources of knowledge and ways of understanding it. That is not the problem. But I doubt many people had ever considered that the thread truly determining our reality might emerge from the romantic and the intangible—from something like myth. Then, suddenly, the whole world was struck by disaster from the heavens. In an instant, the virus enveloped the globe. The course of human civilization will undergo profound changes beginning with this pandemic. Those changes have already begun and are unfolding now. Amid our orderly plans and practical routines, none of this was foreseeable. It has already delivered a resounding slap to those who care only about so-called practicality—to those supremely clever, exquisitely calculating egoists. Yet even now, not many people are willing to think in these terms, because they consider such ideas too abstract. That, I think, is the realm of heaven and earth.
So what does “seeing humanity in all its forms” mean? From the initial search for the source of the virus, to the blame hurled around the world, to the subsequent shifts in international affairs—none of that is really the most important thing anymore.
What is most important? Through this pandemic, every person is doing something with whatever power they possess. It concerns life and work, as well as cooperation and conflict on a much larger scale. Some questions are very simple, yet cannot be addressed by simple means. Each person is using their own abilities and methods to do what they want to do. At this point in the game, everyone is like one of the Eight Immortals crossing the sea, each displaying their own powers. Everyone reveals exactly who they are, and you can see it all with extraordinary clarity. Within the shared rhythm of a global crisis, what everyone ought to be doing—and what they are actually doing—becomes perfectly clear. Not one person escapes the picture. That is what I mean by humanity in all its forms. The world is changing with tremendous speed, and the change is already under way. The methods that brought you success in the past, last month, or last year may today—or after today—become a path to ruin. The things you once held on to through pain, confusion, and helplessness may become your route to achievement and success in the future. That is how it is. Everything depends on how you judge the situation, what you choose, and what you do. Nothing is omitted from this reckoning: the self, the family, society, our shared home, and the survival of humanity are all part of it. And it is not over. Greater storms and greater uncertainties still lie ahead. This is only a prelude, I think.
So what am I trying to express? What do I ultimately mean by human nature, heaven and earth, and humanity in all its forms? Simply this: our old ways of understanding the world may not be enough to carry us into the future. I think that realization has already been taking shape—and sounding its warning—through the changes brought by this pandemic. Something does not cease to exist because you do not believe in it. Something you consider impossible is not therefore incapable of happening. This is the conflict between myth and reality. It depends on how you look at it, how you understand it, and whether you are still willing to open yourself further—to become open enough to meet the demands of survival in the future. That is all.