Part I - Fringe Dwellers - Verity Aylward
They’ve helped fuel China’s
economic growth making it the worlds number two economy, so why are China’s
migrant workers struggling to get their share of the Great Chinese Dream?
In the shadows of
a construction site in the suburbs of Guangdong province stands a camp of eight
blue corrugated iron blocks. At the entrance, a stream of dirty water is used
to clean fish by one of the inhabitants.
She works on the construction site and is one of the many migrants that
live here. In the sweltering heat of June, fellow workers leave for their shift
whilst other return. Inside one block a young man sits in darkness, amidst
sixteen bamboo bunk beds.
“I’ve lived in slums like
this for three years. It’s best when it’s cool but unbearable in June. When it
rains, the roof leaks. At night, lots of rats come in. This is what migrant
life is like.” He says.
Guandong province,
in Southern China, is known as the epicenter for China’s ubiquitous factories
and migrant workforce. Over the past two decades, over 110 million rural
residents have moved there, in the hope that urban living will improve their
livelihoods and, with a dream, bring them a level of prosperity that they can
share with their families back home.
But many live on
the fringes of society, in dwellings that overlook the cities they built. For
traditional migrants, it seems a distant hope that they could ever match the
standard of living of the growing middle class living in the shiny high-rises
now shaping the city skylines.
Xuefu works on a
traditional assembly line at a clothes dying factory in nearby Shengdu Distict.
It’s one of the
richest areas in China that pioneered ‘opening up’ and reform. The minimum wage here is reportedly
higher than other provinces, yet Xuefu’s wage is still only 2,000 RMB a month (312
USD or 217 EUR) and he only gets one
day off a month. He came from
neighboring Guanxi over a decade ago and has worked at this factory ever since.
“I feel unsuccessful. I haven’t been able to
earn much money after working for all these years.”
His
dream is to earn and save enough money to support his parents back in Guanxi. Like
many traditional migrants, he wants to move his family back there to settle. He
wants to be reunited with his daughter who was left behind to live with his
parents, as is the fate of millions of children in China.
But
life in rural Guanxi is still a struggle for survival - that’s why he left - so
he’d need a good plan, and a lot of collateral. He’s even built a house there,
but the prospects of beginning a new life seem remote. It’s taken a toll on his
hopes.
“I
feel such a loser.” He says.
His brother Xuelian, a new generation migrant, also lives in
Shengdu with his family. He’s worked his way up to become a software engineer for a foreign company and earns
double the amount of Xuefu. His office
has air-conditioning, which he considers a real perk.
So
you’d think the white-collar route would be a step up.
Hardly so.
Cramped, dark and
lacking ventilation, it didn’t take long to get a measure of the space where
Xuelian’s family of four live. Two beds: one for Xuelian and his wife, the
other for his young son and daughter, swamp the living area.
This ‘home’ is
only 10 square meters in size.
“The locals say, the house we live in is like a
pigsty with the kitchen, the toilet, the bedroom all crowded together,” Xuelian
says.
His dream is to
rent a larger place for his family, but his wife aspires to be a homeowner and
wants them to remain so they can save.
With skyrocketing
house prices, that hope seems far off.
“Our life is not going to improve much unless
we get a big fortune out of no where, like winning the lottery”.
At
least part of Xuelian’s dream is being realized as his children attend schools with
good facilities and devoted teachers. This is extremely rare. Most migrant
children are not so lucky.
The
lack of access to equal opportunity is stark in the China of today, so it’s
hard for most to realize their aspirations. Many blame the Household Registration System, known as the
Hukou. Established in the 1950s, it divided China’s population into rural and
urban residents. It remains today,
so if people move to the city for work, they leave their entitlements and rights in the countryside. They need a temporary permit to
reside in the cities.
This disparity has encouraged a kind of urban
apartheid, leaving some migrants embittered.
“The
locals call us bad names. There’s strong discrimination. It happens very often.
They have a cold eye on us migrants. They accuse us of coming here and grabbing
their job opportunities.” Xuelian’s wife, Yulan says.
For
some, city life brings despair, which is most evident in the imposing factory
compounds. In some, the alarming suicide rate amid young new generation
migrants has made national news. At Foxconn, there were over twelve suicides in
one month alone.
Yanwu who works in a
microchip factory in Dongguan knew of their fate,
“Workers were isolated like
atoms. Those from the same hometown couldn’t get assigned to the same dormitory.
That’s unbearable. When I came to work in the cities, I felt so lonely. The
loneliness was excruciating.”
Migrants have little choice
but to remain in the cities if they want to build a future beyond rural
struggle. It will take a long time
for most to achieve their dreams.
*If you are interested in reading all of the 'China's Urban Underclass Series' or wish to consider for publication, please contact Verity
