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Trauma revisited: Coronavirus in Hong Kong

  • 11 February 2020
  Right before I turned six, my parents packed us out of our home in high-density east Kowloon and moved into my aunt and grandfather’s seaside house. Just three metro stops from our home, cases of SARS (Severe Acute Respiratory Syndrome) were trebling at the Amoy Gardens housing estate. School was suspended after weeks of having our temperatures taken and logged before class. Face masks were a ubiquity; we couldn’t even pop out for groceries without wearing one.

When I landed back in Hong Kong in late January to celebrate New Year, I didn’t anticipate reliving this traumatic period of my childhood. Yet, when I landed on Monday, face mask-wearers were in the minority. By Thursday, you would be hard-pressed to find someone unmasked on the metro. China finally confirmed after a month of concealment that the novel coronavirus was transmissible between humans and the cloud of dread that sank over Hong Kong was bitter with the 17-year-old trauma of SARS.

Hong Kong was hit hardest by the SARS outbreak in 2003, counting 299 deaths. In a city of 6.7 million, the spread of the virus was exacerbated by the high-density environment: most residents live and work in high-rise buildings and take public transport.

Experts blamed the Chinese government for covering up the initial outbreak in the Mainland, leaving Hong Kong unprepared for the devastation. Hong Kong still bears the scars of the epidemic; there are signs in lifts assuring users that the buttons are regularly disinfected, public service ads on disease prevention are routine, hand sanitiser is a feature of lobbies, and wearing a mask regardless of illness is common.

The novel coronavirus has similar symptoms to SARS with a higher infection rate and lower mortality rate. No one wanted a repeat of 2003. The coronavirus transfixed everyone; I couldn’t ride a lift or have New Year dinner or go hiking without hearing a conversation about the coronavirus. The demon of the past had reared its head again. As ill people were discovered in Hong Kong, it was easy to slip back into paranoia mode: hand sanitisers out, face masks on.

In the last few months, face masks had become contentious in Hong Kong. Many had donned them during pro-democracy protests to protect their identities, leading the local government to ban them. The court ruled this ban as unconstitutional; by the time of the coronavirus outbreak, the beleaguered Chief Executive Carrie Lam