MING-CHEAU LIN

While locked down and lonely as she was on the brink of moving across the world, MING-CHEAU LIN’s smartphone functioned as the virtual “dinner table” that brought her closer to family and friends.

Itwas never the plan for my partner and me to leave South Africa. Then an opportunity presented itself, and we took it so our child could grow up seeing themselves represented in society – something I’ve never had. But even as an East Asian immigrant whose history and presence are often erased in South Africa, leaving the country I called home was painful. I’d found my community and my extended family while living in Cape Town.

We’d sold our house and packed all of our belongings into a container, and the dogs were in Pretoria en route to our new home. And then, two days before our flight to join Kyle in San Francisco (where he’d already been based for four months), the country went into lockdown. Bao and I were stuck – with just three cases of luggage. Fortunately, my sister and her partner were able to assist. I cannot even begin to reflect on the gratitude I had for their unconditional support and care for me as a new mama. Doing our best to be responsible, we distanced ourselves from everyone, but the lockdown impacted us heavily. Baby clothes weren’t classified as “essential”, so none were on sale at first – and Bao barely had any clothes for the upcoming winter as we were meant to be heading to summer in California.

I wasn’t able to see my friends. Feeling the sore reality of pandemic loneliness, I turned to my phone, venting my frustration and sadness about the entire process on social media. And then, through my phone, my community showed up. I received a message from a Twitter friend who offered to do a socially distant drop-off of baby clothes and toys that her son had outgrown. Messages, calls and deliveries – all because people were indirectly affected by my situation, and wanted to show their support. I felt this overwhelming outpouring of loving energy, translated through the zeroes and ones, from their phone to mine.

We endured four months of uncertainty, including booking, cancelling and rebooking of flight tickets as well as the hopeful excitement and dreaded disappointment that accompanied it. At long last, following a roller-coaster of emotions, we were able to travel to reunite. The trip was almost 40 hours long, and took in three countries, four cities and four flights – all tackled by an exhausted me and 20-month-old Bao.

I was constantly anxious en route. I didn’t allow myself to sleep for fear of anything happening to us, as the western world continued to blame the Chinese for the pandemic. The Sinophobia became a dangerous reality: we weren’t just reduced to racist memes and jokes; we were targets for hate speech and crime. My heart breaks to think that even our elderly and children were not spared.

So, while travelling, I couldn’t let my guard down. We got spat on at the airport in Turkey, where a man said something about the “Chinese virus”. I didn’t allow myself to react because I had a baby with me. And again, I kept my phone by my side as a source of comfort, to be able to connect to a digital table with my family and friends, as if they’d come on the trip with me.

Once we reached our destination, I cried in relief. I could finally let my guard down and just rest my eyes for a while. While the next part of this journey is even lonelier, I’m grateful I can still take a seat at the table – I can still connect with my loves more than 16 000km away; have a meal, a conversation and time together. Because I have my phone.

MING-CHEAU is the author of Just Add Rice: Stories And Recipes By A Taiwanese South African (Quivertree Publications). Her memoir, Yellow And Confused: Born In Taiwan, Raised In South Africa, And Making Sense Of It All (Kwela Books) was published in 2019. She is a freelance copywriter based in California, and her writing is referenced in academic works

on the international Asian diaspora.