This is a translation of one of four short interviews with migrant workers that were posted on the 新文化论坛, originally published as part of the cover story from this month’s China Youth magazine. I’ll do the other three too over the next few days. The individual stories as told to journalist Chen Min have the merit of being short so I thought I’d offer them here as first person accounts of life as a migrant worker. They’re voices that are often ignored in the wider discussions about internal migration and what it means for Chinese society - though that said China Youth is the magazine of the Communist Youth League so obviously there are people in the Party listening.

Migrant worker Chen Lisong looks back on 2004

Location: A residential district off the southern section of the Second Ring Road in Beijing

Time: 2pm, 9th January 2005

Interviewee: Chen Lisong, male, 33 years old, working as a tiler and plasterer for a Beijing interior decoration company.

When I was 17 I started at a factory back in my hometown, but after I got half of one of my fingers chopped off by one of the machines I was scared to keep working there so I went off with someone else to be a tiler. Went to Guangzhou, Shanghai, even to Xinjiang. You’re asking which city I liked the best? Well, they’re all full of big, tall buildings but I never owned a brick of them, all I cared about was how much I was getting paid. I came to Beijing in 2000; I was earning a bit more, so I stayed.

When you go away to work what worries you is working hard and ending up with a pittance. I heard about Premier Wen getting our unpaid wages settled up, but they still can’t seem to get rid of the bad bosses. It happened to me one time. The boss legged it, the workers went mad, smashed up all the glasswork; two blokes got up on the roof and were moaning and complaining for a while when all of a sudden they jumped off. It took ages for the ambulance to show up, the sound of them sirens really made you feel bad…

I also don’t like home-owners with a prejudice against migrant workers. Don’t think tiling is an easy game: getting the tiles up straight, placing the patterned tiles, how high you put middle run, it’s all got to be done carefully. I see every wall as a work of my art. One time I’d finished a job, the owner came and checked it over, her friends were all saying it was good work, she sets her face and says ‘These migrant workers pick up some little trick like this and come pouring into town stinking up the place!’ That look in her eyes, it was like the sound of those ambulance sirens, stabbed me in the heart! They’re always on about ‘hating the rich‘, how come no-one talks about these people who hate the poor?

In sixteen years I’ve been to a fair few towns, carrying the same big woven sack stuffed with my bowls and bedding. The other year there was that song that was popular all round town that goes I’m a rover, the world I roam, there’s no place I call my home. Whenever I heard it my heart would ache; working away, it’s truly a bitter life. You sleep in the same bedding all year, patching it up when you have to, never changing it. One cold winter one of the home-town boys was telling me I should pay for a bed at their lodgings but I wasn’t for paying that. At nights I’d just spread my bedding out on the floor of the house we were doing up and sleep amongst the sand, paint and bricks. The good thing is all the homes in Beijing have central heating, though one time I managed to kip down in a house where they hadn’t installed it yet. It was a snowy night and the cold woke me up three times.
When I woke up I thought about springtime back home, all the rape fields in bloom, or autumn and the sweet smell of the ripe paddy…how many years it was I hadn’t seen or smelt them. I swear if I could earn ten thousand a year back at home you wouldn’t catch me coming away to work!

I made a big decision in November last year; I brought my wife and kid up to visit Beijing to have some fun for once. I found a little ten metre square room out past the 4th Ring Road and after some haggling with the landlord managed to get the rent down to 220 a month. I took off my working clothes and took the missus and the lass up to the Great Wall and to visit the Forbidden City. When I took them to watch the flag-raising ceremony at Tian’anmen Square, I watched them smiling and laughing and I felt like a man who was in charge of his own life. I took them up to Wangfujing where there’s all them good things to eat and nice things to buy. Our lass is only twelve but she knows what’s what, she didn’t ask for anything. Over twenty days we spent over 3000 yuan and took a pile of photos ten centimetres thick, we had a really great time…

When it came time for them to go back home, I got to thinking I’d like the wife to stay on, she could help with the work, mixing up the cement and soaking the tiles, pretty easy work. The wife wasn’t sure and asked our girl what she thought. She said ‘Stay, Mum, I want you to be with Dad.’

So thanks to my lasses’ kind heart, life’s got a lot better. Before I did all my washing and cooking myself, I’d make half a cucumber last a day, and keep struggling on whatever aches or pains I had, but now I have my partner. For dinner last night the missus cooked a couple of fish and I had a beer with it, tasted great. The wife doesn’t mind sleeping on the floor, she’s just worried about calling long distance back home every week, going on at our lass about how she has to study hard and not end up with a miserable life like her folks have. Our lass laughs and says never you worry! Her gran say she used to cry when she thought no-one was watching, but she’s fine now.

It’s nearly New Year and the jobs are stacked up pretty busy, we’re working late every night. I want to earn enough to buy the kid a new school bag and buy some of the local Beijing specialities as a gift for my parents. The minute I lie down to sleep I realise I’m aching all over, but then I think about going home soon and it’s easier to bear. Once a year! The other day someone asked me how much a hard sleeper berth on the train to Nanjing cost. I said I didn’t know, I’d always sat or stood for the whole twenty hours it takes getting home, not that it bothered me.

You ask if I’m happy with life? Well, I’ll get to see the family soon, sleep in a warm bed in my own home. That kind a feeling would be what I guess you city folk call happiness.

I’ve glossed a few bits here and there and adopted a colloquial style that kind of matches the original. The section where Mr Chen is telling us about his pride in his work involved a bit of guessing with some of his tiler’s jargon, but I’ve been on enough building sites to have a fair guess. Here’s the Chinese so you can check for yourself. Corrections and suggestions always welcomed.

民工陈力松的2004年

地点：北京南二环某住宅小区
时间：2005年1月9日下午2点
人物：陈力松，男，33岁，北京某装修公司瓦工
　　

　　我17岁时进了家乡的工厂，后来被机器削掉半个手指，心有余悸，就跟人出来当瓦工。去过广州、上海，还有新疆。你问我喜欢哪个城市？反正都是高楼大厦，没有一片瓦属于我，我只关心工资高不高。2000年到了北京，挣钱多了点儿，就待下来了。

　　在外面打工，就怕辛苦换不来半两米。温总理替我们讨薪，听说过，但是黑心老板还是灭不了。我遇过一回。老板溜了，工人们都傻了，把玻璃砸碎，有个人站在楼顶嚷嚷半天，突然跳了下来，“120″来得晚，”呜呜”声叫得人真难受……

　　我还怕歧视民工的业主。别小看贴瓷砖，排砖弹线、哪里贴花砖，腰线多高，都要细琢磨，我把每面墙都当作自己的作品。有次干完活儿，业主验收，她的朋友都说好，她板着脸说，民工就这点本事呗，赶着往城里挤，搞得空气都脏了！那个眼神，跟那次“120″的呜呜声一样，捅到我心里！总说仇富心理，怎么不提提” 仇贫”的人？

　　16年里，我走了不少城市，带着同样的编织袋，塞满褥子和锅碗瓢盆。前年大街小巷都唱什么”流浪的脚步走遍天涯，没有一个家……”一听，我心里就泛酸，打工啊，真是苦。一年到头就是一床被褥，能补就补，都不换。冬天冷，同乡劝我再添一床，我舍不得。晚上，就在业主的新家找块水泥地，铺开褥子，和沙子、腻子、油漆、瓷砖睡在一块儿。还好，北京人家里都装有暖气，就碰上过一家没装的，那天下大雪，晚上被冻醒了三次。

　　醒了我就想想老家的春天，油菜花一开一大片，想想秋天，稻子那个香……多少年都没有见过、闻过了。真的，如果在家里一年能挣到1万元钱，我肯定不出来打工！

　　2004年11月，我作了个重要决定，让老婆孩子来北京玩儿一次。我在四环外找了间十来平米的房间，和房主讨价还价，压到月租 220元。换掉工作服，我带她们母女爬长城，游故宫。她们在天安门看升旗，我就看着她们笑，有点儿做主人的感觉。逛王府井的时候，都是好吃好玩儿的，12 岁的女儿很懂事，啥都不要。20多天下来，我们花掉了3000多块钱，照了足有10厘米厚的照片，很开心……

　　她们该回家了，我想把老婆留下来当帮手，就是和和水泥泡泡瓷砖，活儿不重。老婆犹豫着问女儿，女儿说：“妈妈留下吧，我要你和爸爸在一起。”

　　亏了女儿的体贴，生活好多了。以前自己洗衣做饭，拌个黄瓜要吃一天，头疼脑热也熬着，现在有伴儿了。昨天晚饭，老婆煎了两条鱼，我喝了点儿小酒，很香。老婆不嫌弃睡地上，就是不忘每周打个长途回家，叮嘱女儿好好读书，不要像她爸妈命苦。女儿笑着说，放心放心！听她奶奶说，开始她还背着人哭，现在好了。

　　要过年了，活儿排得更紧，每天从早干到晚，想给孩子挣个新书包，给爹妈买点儿北京特产。一睡下，才觉得浑身疼，但想到回家，我就好受了。一年一次啊！前天，有个人问我，到南京的硬卧车票多少钱？我说不知道。我都是坐着或站着20多个小时回家的，从不觉得累。

　　你问我幸福吗？很快就能看到家人，睡在自家暖和的床上，这种感觉，就是你们城里人说的幸福吧。

This entry was posted on Sunday, February 27th, 2005 at 7:05 am and is filed under Migrant Workers. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.