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Beijing, Feb 24: The lockdown of Guo Jing's neighbourhood in Wuhan -- the city at the heart of China's new coronavirus epidemic -- came suddenly and without warning.

Unable to go out, the 29-year-old is now sealed inside her compound where she has to depend on online group-buying services to get food.

"Living for at least another month isn't an issue," Guo told news agency, explaining that she had her own stash of pickled vegetables and salted eggs.

But what scares her most is the lack of control -- first, the entire city was sealed off, and then residents were limited to exiting their compound once every three days.

Now even that has been taken away.

Guo is among some 11 million residents in Wuhan, a city in central Hubei province that has been under effective quarantine since January 23 as Chinese authorities race to contain the epidemic.

Since then, its people have faced a number of tightening controls over daily life as the death toll from the virus swelled to over 2,500 in China alone.

But the new rules this month barring residents from leaving their neighbourhoods are the most restrictive yet -- and for some, threaten their livelihoods.

"I still don't know where to buy things once we've finished eating what we have at home," said Pan Hongsheng, who lives with his wife and two children.

Some neighbourhoods have organised group-buying services, where supermarkets deliver orders in bulk.

But in Pan's community, "no one cares".

"The three-year-old doesn't even have any milk powder left," Pan told news agency, adding that he has been unable to send medicine to his in-laws -- both in their eighties -- as they live in a different area.

"I feel like a refugee."

The "closed management of neighbourhoods is bound to bring some inconvenience to the lives of the people", Qian Yuankun, vice secretary of Hubei's Communist Party committee, said at a press briefing last week.

Authorities on Monday allowed healthy non-residents of the city to leave if they never had contact with patients, but restrictions remained on those who live in Wuhan.

Demand for group-buying food delivery services has rocketed with the new restrictions, with supermarkets and neighbourhood committees scrambling to fill orders.

Most group-buying services operate through Chinese messaging app WeChat, which has ad-hoc chat groups for meat, vegetables, milk -- even "hot dry noodles", a famous Wuhan dish.

More sophisticated shops and compounds have their own mini-app inside WeChat, where residents can choose packages priced by weight before orders are sent in bulk to grocery stores.

In Guo's neighbourhood, for instance, a 6.5-kilogramme (14.3-pound) set of five vegetables, including potatoes and baby cabbage, costs 50 yuan ($7.11).

"You have no way to choose what you like to eat," Guo said. "You cannot have personal preferences anymore."

The group-buying model is also more difficult for smaller communities to adopt, as supermarkets have minimum order requirements for delivery.

"To be honest, there's nothing we can do," said Yang Nan, manager of Lao Cun Zhang supermarket, which requires a minimum of 30 orders.

"We only have four cars," she said, explaining that the store did not have the staff to handle smaller orders.

Another supermarket told AFP it capped its daily delivery load to 1,000 orders per day.

"Hiring staff is difficult," said Wang Xiuwen, who works at the store's logistics division, adding that they are wary about hiring too many outsiders for fear of infection.

Closing off communities has split the city into silos, with different neighbourhoods rolling out controls of varying intensity.

In some compounds, residents have easier access to food -- albeit a smaller selection than normal -- and one woman said her family pays delivery drivers to run grocery errands.

Her compound has not been sealed off either, the 24-year-old told AFP under condition of anonymity, though they are limited to one person leaving at a time.

Some districts have implemented their own rules, such as prohibiting supermarkets from selling to individuals, forcing neighbourhoods to buy in bulk or not at all.

"In the neighbourhood where I live, the reality is really terrible," said David Dai, who is based on the outskirts of Wuhan.

Though his apartment complex has organised group-buying, Dai said residents were unhappy with price and quality.

"A lot of tomatoes, a lot of onions -- they were already rotten," he told , estimating over a third of the food had to be thrown away.

His family must "totally depend" on themselves, added the 49-year-old, who has resorted to saving and drying turnip skins to add nutrients to future meals.

The uncertainty of not knowing when the controls will be lifted is also frustrating, said Ma Chen, a man in his 30s who lives alone.

"I have no way of knowing how much (food) I should buy."

From loudspeakers on the roof of a Minnesota mosque, the Islamic call to prayer echoed for the first time ever throughout a Minneapolis neighbourhood late on Thursday as the Muslim community there prepared to begin the holy month of Ramadan.

It echoed again on Friday morning and will continue five times a day during the holy month. 

The simple, short call - known as the adhan - marked an historical moment for Minneapolis and major cities across the United States, community members said. While the adhan is commonly broadcast throughout the Middle East, North Africa and other places, for many Muslims in the US, it is only heard inside mosques or community centres.

"There's definitely a lot of excitement," said Imam Abdisalam Adam, who is on the board of the Dar al-Hijrah mosque, from where the adhan will be broadcast.
"Some people see it as historic," Adam told Al Jazeera. "To the point ... that they're not doing it, able to see it in their lifetime." 

Recited by different representatives from mosques around the city, the call to prayer is expected to reach thousands in the Cedar-Riverside neighbourhood in Minneapolis, according to Jaylani Hussein, the executive director of Minnesota's Council on American-Islamic Relations (CAIR).

While Hussein says the community had discussed broadcasting the call for years, it became even more pressing this year when the coronavirus pandemic forced mosques to shut their doors and residents to stay inside. The coronavirus has infected more than 870,000 people nationwide and killed at least 50,000.
"We wanted to touch those individuals who frequent this mosque and this community," Hussein said. "If we cannot be physically together, at least this echo, this voice, this call to prayer can be an extension of us being together at this difficult time. To give some people some solace."
Ramadan - Minnesota.

The Dar al-Hijrah mosque in the Cedar-Riverside neighbourhood of Minneapolis, Minnesota [Courtesy of Abdisalem Adam] 
Ramadan is traditionally a time when Muslims worldwide regularly attend mosques for daily prayers and break their fasts together. But this year, most have been told to pray at home and forgo community iftars in favour of staying safe from the COVID-19 crisis.

Adam, the imam, said while the Muslim community is experience loss this Ramadan, they hope the call to prayer broadcast will create a "semblance of normalcy".

"With the loss of Friday prayers and the regular congregational prayers, we are hoping that this will give a sense of solace and connection to the spiritual needs of community members," he added. 

An avenue to greater investment?

The Cedar-Riverside neighbourhood is a densely populated area of Minneapolis that has historically been an entry point for many immigrants and today is home to large Somali and Oromo communities.

Ramla Bile, a Somali American who lives in a neighbourhood adjacent to Cedar-Riverside, has been active in the community for years. She welcomed the broadcast of the call to prayer, saying it will help people "feel the spirit of Ramadan in a way that is meaningful".

But she also hopes the city of Minneapolis, which provided the noise permit for the broadcast, will make bigger strides to invest in the community in even more tangible ways.

"There's been a lot of need and a lot hurt in the community in light of the COVID-19 pandemic. And then there's the ongoing conversation you've been having," she said, pointing to deep-seated Islamophobia, systemic racism and the need for infrastructure projects like sprinkler systems in high-rise buildings. 

"We need to see greater investments to support the most vulnerable members of our community," Bile said referring to the neighbourhood's elders, undocumented individuals, low-income families and others.

"Right now, we're waiting for a bailout for our micro-businesses who comprise our Somali malls, or a rent freeze for neighbourhood residents," she added.

For CAIR's Hussein and Imam Adam, they hope this Ramadan's call to prayer helps encourage other communities around the US to take similar steps.

"This will hopefully inspire others … to think about what could happen in future Ramadans and beyond," Hussein said.

Adam added that while the virus has devastated communities and upended daily life, it has also shown that "we're in this together".

"It just shows the significance of the global village and how interconnected and interdependent we are as a world community," he said. "I think that there will be a lot of change in our way of life for the better. I hope so."