The Floating People
SHANGHAI--He has a rice sack for a suitcase and squats on it. He has sun-reddened cheeks and tattered sneakers. He is one of hundreds of migrant workers who crowd the Shanghai Train Station on a sunny, cold afternoon, chatting in different dialects, playing cards, napping with their heads in their laps.
Wang Chuanli is from Anhui, a rural inland province. In his village, almost all the men leave the land to seek construction jobs in cities around the country. "Everyone goes home in June to plant the soybeans. When that's done, when it's getting hot, we leave again. We come back to harvest the soybeans and plant corn. That is done by October 15, and then we leave for another three months," says Wang. "We flow like water."
China has 114 million migrant workers--or, as they are known here, the "floating population." All around Wang sit men from different areas of China, men who have built the tall buildings that dominate Shanghai's skyline but feel none of its prosperity. They are often undocumented and unprotected by China's labor laws. The going wage for a temporary construction worker such as Wang is 5 renminbi, or 60 cents, per hour.
Acceptance. China's widening wealth gap has fueled riots across the country, but Wang is not the complaining sort. Life is pretty good, says the 43-year-old with matted hair. He lives in a room with five bunk beds, housing 10 men. "We all run into each other on different construction sites. There's one guy I've run into three years in a row!"
Wang has a wife, a 15-year-old son, and a 13-year-old daughter--to whom he sends money every month, like the other men. He wants a better life for his children, but he worries they will follow his path. Wang went to junior high, but he did not pass the high school exam. "Everyone has dreams when they are young," he says, gesturing earnestly with hands with dirty fingernails. "I wanted to learn a trade, be really good at it. But you have to adjust your dreams to reality--so I learned how to build houses."
The light is fading, and it is time for him to eat. He hoists his sack over his shoulder and melts away into the crowd of men with matted hair and tattered sneakers.
This story appears in the June 20, 2005 print edition of U.S. News & World Report.
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