Mar 14, 2011
Young migrants opt to stay put in China cities
Overburdened cities find it tough to integrate those who decide not to return to villages after work stint
Ms Li puts in at least 14-hour shifts at this underwear factory in Dongguan, along with about 60 other workers. For every 12 bra cups she fits with lining, she gets 20 US cents (25 Singapore cents). In a good month, after assembling 14,000 pieces, she earns about US$225. -- PHOTO: ASSOCIATED PRESS
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DONGGUAN (GUANGDONG): Twenty-yearold Li Biying's hands tell you she has left the farm behind.
Her long, tapered fingernails are used to pinch apart pieces of gauzy fabric at the underwear factory that is her ticket out of rural poverty. They would not have lasted long in the fields where her parents coax corn and greens from terraced plots.
Ms Li has no plans to go home, unlike older migrant workers who moved to the cities to earn money for a few years before returning to their villages.
For China, this shift in paradigm presents a major challenge: how to integrate the new arrivals into already overburdened cities. An agrarian society for millennia, China will soon have, for the first time, more urban than rural dwellers.
'People my age think: 'What would I do in the countryside? I don't know how to do anything',' Ms Li says in the dorm room she shares with two other women in Dongguan, a southern boomtown near Hong Kong. Only the makeshift curtains over the bunks offer a semblance of privacy.
Ms Li started working in factories at 14, dropping out of school to help support her parents, sister and brother.
In a long concrete room above an Internet cafe, she and about 60 others toil under bare fluorescent tubes, occasionally calling out to one another in their sing-song Sichuan dialect above the din of clacking, thumping sewing machines.
Ms Li sews lining into bra cups, earning 20 US cents (25 Singapore cents) for every 12 pieces she completes. In a good month, she makes about US$225 - after finishing roughly 14,000 pieces during shifts that last 14 hours or more.
The workers at the factory, mostly women, get one day off a month - the day after payday so they can send money home.
Of China's 150 million migrant workers, 90 million are aged below 30, and they are driving one of the most significant demographic shifts in the country's history.
The government forecasts that China will be mostly urban by 2015. About 47 per cent of its population, or 622 million people, lived in cities at the end of 2009, up from 36 per cent in 2000. Some estimate the figure could reach one billion by 2030.
'Traditional migrants are like migratory birds, and feel like both farmers and workers,' said a report last year by China's official trade union umbrella group. 'They see themselves as visitors in the city.'
In contrast, a 2008 survey of migrants aged below 30 found that 56 per cent planned to settle in the city where they were working, according to the China Youth Research Centre.
'They are more accustomed to urban life than rural life,' the trade union report said. 'They've never been hungry, never felt the cold and never had to worry about food or clothing. They can't chi ku (eat bitterness) like their parents.'
In Dongguan, older migrants stick out with their sun-beaten faces and shabby work clothes. In contrast, young migrants are hard to distinguish from their urban counterparts.
Sporting short black shorts over black tights, Ms Li works the pedal of her sewing machine with high-heeled boots that are trimmed with faux fur. Two red studs adorn one ear; cuffs with thin chains, the other. A satiny scarf peeks out from under the collar of her thick red coat, which keeps her warm in the unheated factory.
Yet, however much these migrants might blend in on the surface, China's cities still treat them as second-class citizens.
Take the country's hukou (household) registration system. Migrants are considered residents of their rural hometowns, and just 'visitors' in the cities where they work. They often face higher medical and school fees, and can be cut off from subsidised housing and other social services.
'Society should give equal opportunities to people of all levels,' says Mr Wang Chunguang, who studies migrant issues at the Chinese Academy of Social Sciences.
The alternative, he warns, is growing dissatisfaction and unrest among a marginalised class of poorly educated, poorly paid workers who are unwilling or unable to return to the countryside. 'Americans talk about the American dream. China needs the Chinese dream,' he says.
Last year saw a wave of large-scale strikes as workers sought to improve their pay and working conditions - a sign of an increasingly confident labour force.
It is impossible to say exactly how many migrants have settled in China's cities because of their transient nature and still shallow urban roots. But statistics show growing numbers in the cities every year, as well as an increase in new migrants leaving the countryside.
Migrants themselves hesitate to say that they will never return to their farms. Without job security, their small plots of land are their only insurance.
At the factory, Ms Li's day clicks ahead with every set of 12 pieces she completes. She beams as factory manager Miao Linglin hands her a thin stack of 100-yuan (S$19) notes. Most of the money will be sent home, and after living expenses, there will not be much left for herself.
In any case, she has no time to cruise Dongguan's noisy shopping arcades. After a 14-hour workday, the women usually rush back to the dorm to get hot water, which is available only 20 minutes a day.
Ms Li dreams of a future in which she owns a home in the city and has a stable job working only eight hours a day.
'Even though I'm from the countryside, I want to improve my life and be like people in the city,' she says. 'Everyone yearns for that kind of life. I yearn too.'
ASSOCIATED PRESS
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Greater China News
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Published March 14, 2011
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Young migrants change face of China's cities
(DONGGUAN, China) China is on the cusp of having more urban than rural dwellers for the first time after thousands of years as an agrarian society.
Of an estimated 150 million migrant workers in China, 90 million are under 30 and they are driving one of the most significant demographic shifts in the country's history. The government forecasts that China will be majority urban by 2015. About 47 per cent, or 622 million people, were living in cities at the end of 2009, up from 36 per cent in 2000. Some estimate the number could rise to one billion by 2030. For China, the shift presents a challenge: how to integrate the new arrivals into already overburdened cities. 'Traditional migrants were like migratory birds, and felt like both a farmer and a worker,' says a report last year by China's official trade union umbrella group. 'They identified themselves as visitors in the city.' A 2008 survey of migrants under 30 found that 56 per cent planned to buy a house and settle in the city where they worked, according to the China Youth Research Center. 'They are more accustomed to urban life than rural life,' the trade union report says. 'They've never been hungry, never felt the cold and never had to worry about food or clothing. They can't 'eat bitterness' like their parents.' Li Biying's hands tell you she's left the farm behind. Her long, tapered fingernails pinch apart pieces of gauzy fabric at the underwear factory that is her ticket out of rural poverty. They wouldn't last long in the fields where her parents coax potatoes and greens from terraced plots. The 20-year-old Ms Li has no plans to go home. Unlike older migrant workers who came to earn money for a few years before returning to their villages, the new generation intends to stay, envisioning a life in the neon-splashed cities. 'People my age think, what would I do in the countryside? I don't know how to do anything!' Ms Li says in the simple dorm room she shares with two other women in Dongguan, a southern coastal boomtown near Hong Kong. Ms Li started working in factories at 14, dropping out of seventh grade to help support her parents, sister and brother. In a long concrete room above an Internet cafe, she and about 60 others toil under bare fluorescent tubes, occasionally calling out to each other in their singsong Sichuanese dialect above the din of clacking, thumping sewing machines. She sews lining into unfinished bra cups, earning 20 cents for every 12 pieces. In a good month, she'll make about US$225 - that's roughly 14,000 pieces sewn during shifts that begin at 8 am and don't end until 10.30 pm. The workers, almost all women, get one day off a month, the day after payday so they can send money home. After that, they might browse at a nearby department store. It's hard to distinguish young migrants from their urban counterparts. Ms Li sports short black shorts over black tights, working the pedal of her sewing machine with high-heeled boots trimmed with faux fur. She has two red studs in one ear, cuffs with thin chains on the other. A silky scarf peeks out from under the collar of her puffy red coat, which keeps her warm in the unheated factory. It's impossible to say exactly how many migrants have settled in cities, because of their transient nature and still shallow urban roots. But statistics show growing numbers in the cities, coupled with new migrants leaving the countryside every year. The migrants themselves hesitate to say they'll never return to the farm; without job security, their small plots of land are their only insurance. Still, it's clear China's villages are slowly dying. When Ms Li returned home to her misty mountain village for the recent Chinese New Year holiday, there were fewer children setting off firecrackers and fewer dots of light from houses on the adjacent hillside. One by one, families in south-west China's Sanxing village are moving to the nearby town or even further away, leaving plots covered in weeds between tended patches of vegetables. -- AP |
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