第在紐約時報上看到這篇文章，記得是在一個晴朗冬日的午后。懶懶的陽光穿過圖書館陳舊的木窗，灑落在一排排報紙雜志上，我正猶豫著該拿份什么報紙消遣這個下午，紐約時報頭版的這篇關(guān)于中國農(nóng)村報道吸引了我。
拿起報紙一氣把這篇長文看完，心卻似被什么東西緊緊揪住，要不是因為還有別人在，當(dāng)時真想大喊幾聲以抒胸中惡氣。雖然那些“上嘴皮靠著天，下嘴皮貼著地”的經(jīng)濟學(xué)家總是占據(jù)著媒體的主要目光，但我們的眼光卻不得不透過那些浮華的數(shù)字，看到八億農(nóng)民的艱辛生活。也許我們無法直接為農(nóng)民兄弟們做些什么，但至少下次在公車上相遇，請不要再對背著大包小包的他們側(cè)目而視。因為他們肩上所背負(fù)的，是一家人的希望；而他們所付出的，是健康乃至生命。
SHUANGHU, China - Yang Shan is in fourth grade and spends a few hours every day practicing her Chinese characters. Her script is neat and precise, and one day, instead of drills, she wrote letters to her parents and put them in the mail.
雙湖，中國 - 楊珊（音譯）上小學(xué)四年級，每天花幾個小時練習(xí)寫字。她寫的字干凈、整潔。有一天，她不再只是練習(xí)，而是給自己的父母寫了封信，并且把信發(fā)了出去。
"How is your health?" she asked.
Shan, who is 10, then added a more pointed question: "What is happening with our family?"
“你們身體怎么樣？”她寫到，隨后，這個10歲的小姑娘又提出了一個尖銳的問題：“我們家為什么會這樣？”
Her parents had left in March. Their absence was not new in Shan's short life. Her father, Yang Heqing, has left four times for work. He is now in Beijing on a construction site. Her mother, Ran Heping, has left three times. She is in a different city as a factory worker.
才三月，她的父母就走了。雖然楊珊才10歲，但面對這樣的離別已不是第了。她的爸爸楊和清現(xiàn)在在北京的一個建筑工地，這已經(jīng)是他第四次離家打工了。她的媽媽阮和平在另一座城市的工廠打工。
Over the years, Shan's parents have returned to this remote village to bring money and reunite the family. They leave when the money runs out, as it did in March. Her father had medical debts and needed cash to see another doctor. Shan's school fees were due, and her grandparents also needed help.
每一年，楊珊的父母個都會帶著賺到的錢回到這個偏僻的鄉(xiāng)村，一家人團聚。到了三月，隨著錢的告罄，他們再外出打工掙錢。她爸爸看病欠下了些債，而且繼續(xù)醫(yī)治還需要錢。楊珊學(xué)費要繳，她的爺爺奶奶也需要接濟。這一切都需要錢。
"I think they are suffering in order to make my life better," Shan said of her parents. She added a familiar Chinese expression: "They are eating bitterness."
“我想他們這么做，是為了讓我的生活好起來，”楊珊用一句我們所熟悉的中文說：“他們在吃苦?！?BR> For the Yang family and millions of others in the Chinese countryside, the only way to survive as a family is to not live as one. Migrant workers like Shan's parents are the mules driving the country's stunning economic growth. And the money they send home has become essential for jobless rural China.
對于楊家和數(shù)百外其他中國農(nóng)村家庭來說，分離是生存下去的辦法。如楊珊的父母這樣的農(nóng)民工，正是推動中國經(jīng)濟高速增長的引擎。而他們匯回家的錢則是貧困農(nóng)村的必要生活來源。
Yet even that money is no longer enough. Migrant wages have stagnated, education and health costs are rising, and the rural social safety net has collapsed - a crushing combination that is a major reason the income divide is widening so rapidly in China at the expense of the rural poor.
即使如此，錢還是不夠。民工的工資一直停滯不前，而教育和醫(yī)療的花費卻節(jié)節(jié)攀升，農(nóng)村社會保障體系已然不存。這種犧牲農(nóng)村的發(fā)展方式，也正是中國城市農(nóng)村收入差距不斷加大的關(guān)鍵原因。
Migration also has meant that urban and rural children in China are growing up in starkly different worlds. In cities, upwardly mobile couples call their precious only child xiao taiyang, or "little sun," as in center of the universe. Children are indulged with clothes, toys and snacks: childhood obesity is a new urban ill.
民工的外出，也意味著中國的城市和農(nóng)村孩子成長在一個完全不同的世界。在城市中，經(jīng)濟能力日益提高的父母們把自己寶貝的獨生子女稱作“小太陽”。嬌寵的孩子有著數(shù)不盡的衣服、玩具、快餐，而且兒童肥胖已經(jīng)成為一種新的城市病。
In the countryside, the new vernacular phrase is liu shou, or "left behind" child. Millions of children like Shan are growing up without one or both parents. Villages often seem to be missing a generation. Grandparents work the fields and care for the children.
而在農(nóng)村，一種新的說法是“留守兒童”。上百萬像珊珊一樣的孩子只有單親或者根本沒有父母陪在身邊。農(nóng)村就像是缺了一代人：祖父母在田間干活且照顧孫輩。
"We are a triangle, three people in three different places," said Mr. Yang, 36, the father. "The pain of missing one another is very difficult. All parents are the same in this world. All parents care about their children."
“我們家像是個三角形，三人各處一地，”36歲的楊和清說：“思念的痛苦是難熬的。世界上的父母都一樣，所有的父母都牽掛自己的孩子?！?BR> But Shan's parents, strapped with debt and obligation, are among the untold millions of people in rural China caught in a brutal cycle. Studies show that medical costs are the leading reason that people fall into poverty in China. Many city residents still have some health benefits, but peasants now fall under a pay-for-service system. Sickness can mean bankruptcy.
話雖這么說，但楊珊的父母依然像中國鄉(xiāng)村成百萬農(nóng)民工一樣，在債務(wù)和義務(wù)的驅(qū)使下外出打工。研究顯示，龐大的醫(yī)療費用，是致使中國人陷入貧窮的主要原因。城里人還有一些醫(yī)療保障，但農(nóng)村人看病全靠自己掏錢。生病，對他們來說意味著破產(chǎn)。
Mr. Yang went to Beijing in part to earn enough money for medical treatment. He was warned four years ago that he needed treatment for prostate problems, but he could not afford it. Now, his health has worsened on his construction job. He has missed days and is jeopardizing the pay he needs to see a doctor.
楊和清去北京打工，掙錢給自己治病也是一個目的。四年前，醫(yī)生已經(jīng)警告他身患前列腺疾病，但他無錢醫(yī)治。如今在建筑工地的工作惡化了他的病情；而因為病痛，他已經(jīng)幾天沒工作，這又威脅到他賴以治病的工錢。
His wife, Ms. Ran, 33, wants to visit her daughter in February for the Lunar New Year, when migrant workers traditionally go home. But she said her factory in the city of Baoding will fine her $72 - roughly six weeks' pay - if she does not work straight through to July. Shan's school fees are due soon, and the family needs more money.
楊和清的妻子，33歲的阮和平一直盤算著二月春節(jié)能回家看女兒，這段時間也正是民工們返鄉(xiāng)的時候。但她在保定打工的工廠規(guī)定，如果工人不能一直工作到明年七月，就要被扣掉差不多一個半的工資－－600塊錢。珊珊的學(xué)費就要繳了，家里也需要更多的錢。
Shan has never left this village in mountainous central China, a few hours' drive from the Three Gorges along the Yangtze River. She is still a child, but she understands the pressures on her family and how her own future depends on getting an education. She grew worried when the school began asking for next semester's tuition.
珊珊從來沒有離開過中國中部山區(qū)的這個村莊，他們的村莊離三峽只有幾個小時的車程。她很懂事，知道自己家庭的重壓，也懂得自己的未來靠的就是接受教育。但當(dāng)學(xué)校開始征收下學(xué)期的學(xué)費時，她又擔(dān)心了起來。
"I love school," she said.
“我喜歡學(xué)校?！彼f。
A Desperate Village
一個絕望的村莊
The students in Shan's fourth grade class rose in unison as the teacher, Du Nengwei, tapped his pointer against his desk to start the lesson.
四年級的老師杜能衛(wèi)將教鞭輕輕拍打了一下桌子，宣布了上課開始，珊珊和她的同學(xué)們便整齊的起立。
"Hello, teacher!" the children shouted dutifully in early December as Mr. Du, his eyes magnified through thick glasses, signaled for everyone to sit down. The children began shouting out memorization drills, and the sounds of rote drilling rose out of other classrooms, as noisy as squawking birds.
“老師好！”孩子們認(rèn)真的叫道。杜老師用那透過厚厚鏡片的眼睛示意同學(xué)們坐下。孩子們開始背誦課文，背誦的聲音貫穿了課堂，像是鳥兒嘈雜的叫聲。
The village school, the focus of so much hope, is little changed from a century ago. The dirty, whitewashed building is made of mud brick and concrete. Shan's classroom has no heat or electricity. Light comes from two small windows.
雖然是農(nóng)村孩子們的希望，但這鄉(xiāng)村學(xué)校在一個世紀(jì)以來卻沒有多大改變。教室是泥磚和水泥砌成的，里面沒有暖也沒有電，照明則全靠兩扇小小的窗戶。
Mr. Du said 8 of his 14 students had at least one parent who is a migrant worker. He knows that parents leave in order to pay tuition, about $50 a year for families that often live on less than $300 a year. School, even this school, is their only chance, he said.
杜老師說，他的14個學(xué)生中，有8個孩子都有父母進(jìn)城務(wù)工。他知道農(nóng)民們打工賺錢也是為了給孩子們掙學(xué)費，雖然家庭收入還不足2500元，一年的學(xué)費卻需要400元。而學(xué)校（即使是這樣的學(xué)校），也是農(nóng)民子弟們的希望。
"Some say they want to be a driver, a scientist or a teacher," Mr. Du said. "But nobody wants to go on being a farmer." Of Shan, he said, "she studies very hard and does well."
“同學(xué)們說想當(dāng)司機、科學(xué)家或者教師，”杜老師說?！暗珱]有人還想做農(nóng)民。”至于珊珊，他說：“她學(xué)習(xí)很努力，也很不錯?！?BR> She usually ranks second or third in the class. At home, she studies as much as three hours a day. She said she wanted to advance to middle school, then high school, even college.
她一般在班里拿第二第三。每天回家后，她都要學(xué)習(xí)三個小時左右。她說自己想繼續(xù)讀初中、高中、甚至大學(xué)。
"The more schooling I have, the more knowledge I have," she said.
“讀的書越多，懂的知識就越多，”珊珊說。
Her home is a mud-walled communal house built more than a century ago during the Qing Dynasty. Her grandparents sleep in one section, her aunt and younger cousin in another. Shan sleeps alone in two unheated rooms converted from a small barn. Her room is above the pen with the family's three pigs. Her parent's empty room is over the open pit that is the communal toilet.
珊珊的家是清朝時建的老房子，她的爺爺奶奶睡一間，嬸嬸和堂弟們睡另一間。珊珊獨自睡在兩間從畜圈改過來的房子里。她的房間在三頭豬的豬圈上面，她爸媽的空房間則在家里的廁所上面。
"I'm not scared," she said. She has painted her colorless wooden shutter with the Chinese characters for "wealth" and "prosperity."
“我不怕，”她說道。她在自己房間的木窗上寫慢了中文漢字“財富”，“繁榮?！?BR> Her grandfather, Yang Xianglin, 72, said his three sons each contributed $150 a year to support the family. Two of the three are migrant workers; the third just returned home from a migrant job. But the money is not enough, so the grandfather must borrow from other relatives.
珊珊的爺爺，72歲的楊祥林說自己的三個兒子每年給家里貼1200元。三個兒子中，兩個都在外務(wù)工，剩下一個也是剛剛回來；但盡管如此，錢還總是不夠，爺爺不得不向親戚們?nèi)ソ桢X。
Shan knows she is poor, but does not seem to feel poverty's sharp sting. Asked if she has any toys, she brightened and showed off two tiny plastic figurines and a single silk flower. Her parents cannot afford more, though her mother stitched her a pink sweater.
珊珊知道家里窮，但年紀(jì)還不大的她卻并不以此為苦。記者問她有沒有什么玩具，她立刻歡喜起來地拿出兩個塑料小人和一朵綢做的小花。此外媽媽還給她織過一件紅毛衣，超出這些的父母就負(fù)擔(dān)不起了。
"She misses them always," her grandfather said. "She keeps asking, when will her parents come home?"
“珊珊老想他們，”爺爺說?！八偸菃?，爸爸媽媽什么時候回來呀？”
Nearly every family in Shuanghu has had someone leave. Local wages are as low as $1 a day; a migrant can make $5 or more. A few fortunate families have built concrete homes with migrant money.
在雙湖，幾乎每個家里都有人外出務(wù)工。本地的工資一天只有8元錢，而一個農(nóng)民工每天能掙40元。少數(shù)幸運的家庭靠著打工帶回的錢已經(jīng)蓋起了新房。
"We have more freedom now than when we had a communal life," said Lei Jinchen, 53, a neighbor whose two sons work at the same factory as Shan's mother. "We can now go out and find work. But we only have enough to feed ourselves. That's it."
53歲的雷金辰說：“比起以前農(nóng)民公社時期，現(xiàn)在自由多了，至少能出去打工。不過也僅僅能養(yǎng)活自己而已。”雷金辰是珊珊家的鄰居，他有兩個兒子也在珊珊媽媽的工廠工作。
Central government leaders often boast of new programs to benefit China's poorest villages. One national program called for farmers to hand over land for reforestation in exchange for annual payments. In 2002, Shan's grandfather surrendered two-thirds of an acre for promised payments of $65 a year. As yet, he and other farmers have received nothing.
中央的領(lǐng)導(dǎo)們常常自夸扶助貧困地區(qū)的新政策。有個“退耕還林”的國家政策，許諾只要農(nóng)民退還土地造林，就能每年給以補助。2002年，珊珊的爺爺退了四畝地，想著每年能拿540元補助?？芍两駷橹?，他也其他的退地農(nóng)民一分也沒有拿到。
Shuanghu was also designated for special antipoverty assistance, and about 50 families - including the Yangs - were named poverty households eligible to divide a $2,500 annual fund, or about $50 per family. But again, the Yangs and others have gotten nothing.
雙湖還有上面特派的扶貧?？?，大約有50戶人家（包括楊家）每年該收到扶貧款20000元，平均每家每年400元。但是他們的希望又落空。
"Not many benefits get down to us," Mr. Lei said. "Local governments skim most of the money off."
“沒有多少錢能到我們頭上，”雷金辰說，“地方政府把大頭都拿走了?！?BR> So what remains is migrant work for the young and farming for the old. The mountainous landscape is impressive, but only narrow strips of land can be used for farming. In early December, Shan left for school one morning, and her grandparents walked up a rocky hillside toward their small plot.
所以剩下的辦法只有讓年輕人出去打工，老年人留家種田了。山區(qū)的景色是挺不錯，但是能用作耕種的地卻很有限。12月初的一天，珊珊去上學(xué)了，爺爺奶奶則走到一塊充滿碎石的坡地，開始他們的耕種。
The frost had lifted, and the grandmother, Hu Yangui, 65, squatted in the dirt and pulled turnips. She takes medicine for stomach ailments and arthritis, and the work tires her. She would let the turnips dry in the sun until afternoon, then feed them to the pigs beneath Shan's bedroom.
珊珊的奶奶，65的胡艷桂，有胃病和關(guān)節(jié)炎，需要吃藥。在霜散盡的地里，奶奶正蹲在地上拔蘿卜，拔出的蘿卜要在先太陽底下曬干，然后喂給家里的豬吃。
The grandfather grabbed a large bale of corn stalks to use as bedding for the pigs and loaded it onto his back. His arthritis sometimes keeps him from sleeping, but he said the corn was not heavy. In a lower field, a child's voice echoed against the hillsides. It was Shan's cousin, Yang Qinlin, 4. Her own father works several hours away, and she goes months without seeing him.
爺爺抓起一大捆玉米稈，把他們負(fù)到背上，這些鋪豬圈用的。雖然爺爺?shù)年P(guān)節(jié)炎很重，常常讓他無法入睡；但爺爺說，玉米稈不重。山下，一個孩子的聲音傳到了山坡上。這是珊珊的表妹，4歲的楊琴琳，雖然她爸爸在不遠(yuǎn)的城鎮(zhèn)打工，但她也已經(jīng)幾個月沒見爸爸了。
She was singing a melancholy poem about missing home that is memorized by schoolchildren across China:
Looking up, I find the moon bright;
Bowing down, in homesickness I'm drowned.
她在朗誦一首描述思鄉(xiāng)之情的古詩，這是一首中國孩子們都耳熟能詳?shù)脑姡?BR> 舉頭望明月；低頭思故鄉(xiāng)。
An Ailing Father
一個生病的父親
On the worst nights, Yang Heqing is awakened by the cold. His bunkroom is in a warehouse district in southern Beijing that is home to tens of thousands of migrants. There is no heat for the subfreezing temperatures, and the bunks are planks of plywood attached to metal scaffolding.
在冷的夜里，楊和清總被凍醒。他住的工棚位于北京南面的一個倉庫里，和他同住在這一片的有上萬農(nóng)民工。他們睡在木板搭成的高低鋪上，雖然北京的冬夜氣溫已經(jīng)在零度以下，但他們的工棚當(dāng)然不會有暖氣。
The room, provided by the construction company, is like a map of poverty in China's rural interior. Mr. Yang and three others from around his village sleep on two rows of bunks. Farmers from central Sichuan Province are in a different section. Apple farmers from dusty Shaanxi Province sleep across the room beside a few men from destitute areas in Hubei Province.
建筑公司提供的房子，就像一張中國內(nèi)地農(nóng)村的貧苦地圖。楊和清和另外三個同村人占著兩個高低鋪，四川中部來的一些農(nóng)民則睡在另外一邊，幾個湖北貧困地區(qū)來的人旁邊睡著一個陜西來的蘋果農(nóng)。
There are 40 men in a room 30 feet long.
9米長的房間里睡著40個男人。
Asked how many of them have left wives and children at home, one man yelled, "All of us." Asked how much they are getting paid for working 12 hours a day, seven days a week for almost a year, they give an embarrassed answer.
當(dāng)記者問，他們中有多少人是拋妻棄子來城里打工的。一人叫道：“我們?nèi)恰?。但?dāng)記者接著問“你們的工錢有多少”時，這些一周工作七天、一天工作十二小時的工人們卻扭捏起來。
"We don't know," another man admitted.
“我們也不知道，”一人說。
Mr. Yang, like the others, came to Beijing last March. He and his three friends learned from a cousin about a job working on a new government building. No firm promises were made on pay. Some men were told they could earn $500 or more for the year, nearly double the average income in the countryside. Others were told that workers from different provinces would be paid different wages.
和其他人一樣，楊和清也是三月來的北京。他和三個朋友現(xiàn)在在北京的一個建筑工地干活，這個活是從他的一個堂兄弟那兒聽說的。至于報酬并沒有訂約，有些人聽說一年能掙4000多元，這幾乎是農(nóng)村收入的兩倍。另一些人則聽說不同省的人給不同的工錢。
No one knows. The crew bosses will pay them when the job is done in January. Until then, the company provides daily rice or noodles, and workers get $12 a month in spending money if they work at least 25 days. Mr. Yang said he had missed many workdays because of illness. He often gets only $6 in monthly spending money as a penalty.
沒人知道。包工頭要到一月份工程完工了才會發(fā)工資。在那之前，公司提供每天的米面，每月上工25天以上工人，一個月發(fā)100元用以日常開支。楊和清說，自己因為生病缺了很多天工，所以除去罰款每月常常只能拿到50元錢。
"Sometimes I can feel the pain while I work," he said. "My chest hurts, and I have no energy."
“干活時也不時會感覺到痛，”他說?！拔业男乜谔郏瑴喩頉]力氣?！?BR> Mr. Yang first became sick in 2000 after five months working for an oil company in the far western region of Xinjiang. He earned nearly $600, a bounty, but he would spend all of it on medicine and visits to doctors. The diagnosis was pneumonia and inflammation of his prostate. At a city hospital, a doctor recommended $1,200 in treatment, a price he could not pay. Mr. Yang returned home, and his wife feared he might have cancer.
楊和清第得病是在2000年，是他在新疆的一個石油公司干了五個月之后。他掙了一大筆錢——5000元，可是后來都用在看病和買藥上了。城里醫(yī)生的診斷是肺炎和前列腺炎，并且建議他花10000元左右進(jìn)行治療，這個價格是楊和清無法承受的。于是他放棄治病而回了家，他的妻子阮和平則擔(dān)心他是得了癌癥。
"He lost hope," Ms. Ran said. "He said, 'If I die, I don't care.' I said, 'You can't leave behind your parents and your daughter.' "
“他失去了信心，”阮和平說，“他說‘死了就死了’我說‘你不能就這樣拋下爸媽和女兒?！?BR> Weakened, Mr. Yang stayed home for four years, and his wife left for work, alone, in May 2000. His father said he then became frustrated that his wife, not himself, was supporting the family. His daughter knew something was wrong.
由于身體虛弱，楊在家里呆了四年；2000年五月開始，他的妻子就獨自去城里打工。楊的父親說，因為靠著妻子在外干活養(yǎng)家糊口，楊和清變得日益沮喪。女兒珊珊也察覺到了家中的變化。
"I always saw him buying medicine," Shan said. Her parents "don't know that I know," she added. "I'm afraid his sickness will become worse and worse."
In March, Mr. Yang felt he had to find work. He owed relatives nearly $300 for medical bills, and he could not make money at home. Sitting in his bunk in early December, he recalled the rush of excitement he felt arriving in Beijing to play some small role in building the country's booming capital.
His friend, Yang Xianglin, leaned over from the other bunk. He is a first-time migrant worker. Like many villagers, he thought working in Beijing would be exciting, even liberating. Now he wants to finish his job, get paid and never come back.
"It's not what we imagined," he said. "Migrant work is too hard. Even if the bosses are crooked, we have to obey them. I can't stand this. This isn't freedom."
Yang Heqing agreed, more from exhaustion than outrage. He had missed so much work that he finally borrowed money from his crew boss and visited a city hospital on Dec. 10. A doctor examined his prostate and suggested tests. The cost was $250; the boss had lent him $12.
Mr. Yang walked from the hospital to a nearby pharmacy and bought over-the-counter anti-inflammation pills. He said he was tempted to quit, take whatever pay the boss will give him and see the doctor again. But he also knows that he might not even get paid enough to return home.
Asked about his plans for his health and his family, he could only imagine as far as January, when his job will be done.
"My hope is for a few thousand yuan at the end of the year," he said. That is a few hundred dollars.
A Factory Mother
一個工人母親
The outdoor market in Baoding is a patch of dirt where farmers have laid out mushrooms, tofu, cabbage and carrots. Cuts of meat are arranged on a flatbed, but Ran Heping cannot afford those. She and three relatives have just finished a 12-hour night shift at their factory and are making a weekly grocery run.
A handsome vendor haggles with Ms. Ran over the price of a head of cabbage. He is flirting and offers her a ride home. She laughs and walks away. She later says distance has destroyed the marriages of several workers at the factory.
Her factory in Baoding, about 90 minutes south of Beijing by train, makes metal balls for lawn games, to be exported to Europe and America, and smaller balls that Chinese manipulate with their hands as a form of traditional therapy.
It is dirty, difficult work, but the factory is a popular destination for migrants from Shuanghu because of word-of-mouth referrals. More than half the 70 employees are from around the village. The job is piecework, so workers get paid for each ball. During peak months, a worker casting metal or polishing can make more than $100. Usually, though, workers make less than $50.
Ms. Ran came here in 2000 when she left the village to support the family. Leaving her daughter worried Ms. Ran, but Shan was starting school and tuition was due. Ms. Ran also knew that her husband's illness gave her little choice.
"I knew we couldn't survive like this," she said. "I told Shan, 'I will go to work, and you be a good girl at home' "
She returned home nearly two years later. She brought almost $1,000, which went for medical bills, clothes, food, school fees, fertilizer and other farming costs. "When the money was gone, we needed more," she said. "I decided to go out again."
This time it was a shorter trip, from July 2002 until February 2003. She brought home only $210 after the factory deducted $72 for leaving without working a full year. She was furious and filed a complaint with the local labor bureau. Nothing happened.
The Yangs were together in the village for a year. But medical and school bills forced them apart again. When Mr. Yang left for Beijing last March, his wife left for a plastics factory. She later quit and tried to join her husband in Beijing.
"We are a family," her husband told her. "When we can, we should be together."
They were together for less than 10 days. Ms. Ran worked at a pastry factory but quit because the pay was so bad. She also said the cost of renting a room and living together in expensive Beijing would have erased the couple's savings.
She returned to Baoding and the metal ball factory in September. She is an inspector, an easier job that pays up to $40 a month. She is not lonely because several cousins work at the factory. They talk about their children or visit a local park together. There are days when she says being away in a big city can be exciting.
"There are no department stores where we are from," she said.
In November, she bought a bottle of shampoo for her long black hair. It was first time in her life she had ever bought shampoo. It cost $1.50.
These lighter moments are leavened by the dark. On the telephone, she pleads with her husband to see a doctor. "I said, 'When you get paid, spend all your wages to get better.' I said I would send my money home to take care of the family."
"But he doesn't really want treatment because it will cost so much," she said.
The grandparents called in December to ask for another $25 for Shan's tuition next year. Mrs. Ran wants to visit her daughter in February at New Year's. But her bosses insist she must work until July or again lose pay. She is angry but has decided she must stay. Her daughter does not know yet.
"I just hope that Heqing will recover and we can work together to put Yang Shan at least through high school," Ms. Ran said, when asked what she wanted for her future. "If his health doesn't improve, I'm worried we'll only be able to send her to middle school."
"It's a hard life," she added, "but we have no other choice."
An Unknown Future
一個未知的將來
Shan's grandparents say she almost never cries. She is happy playing with her friends and her cousins. Her parents both called on her birthday in July. She said it had made her happy.
珊珊的爺爺奶奶說，她很少會哭。她和自己的堂兄妹們玩的很開心。在珊珊七月生日時，爸媽都有打電話回來，珊珊說她特別高興。
In early December, she sat outside and practiced writing. The letters she had sent her parents months earlier never reached them; she did not have a reliable addresses.
十二月初的一天，她坐在門外練習(xí)寫字。她幾個月前給爸爸媽媽寫的信，他們沒有能收到；因為她并沒有一個可靠的地址。
Now, she started writing in a notebook.
現(xiàn)在，她在筆記本上寫著：
"I want a ticket, a boat ticket and a bus ticket," she scribbled for a visiting photographer.
Where does she want to go?
"To see my parents," she answered. "I want to see my mom and dad. I think about them all the time."
“我想要一張票，船票或者車票，”她寫給探訪她的攝像師。
她想去哪兒？
“去看我的爸爸媽媽，”她答道?！拔蚁肟纯次业陌职謰寢?，我天天都在想他們?！?BR> For the moment, her earlier, darker image of their life had lifted. She wanted to join them. She wanted to be a migrant worker.
"I think their life is very good," the little girl answered.
"Their life is smooth."
此時，珊珊心中父母原本在外受苦的的場景不見了，而代之以好的多的生活。她想去加入他們，她也想去做一個農(nóng)民工。
“我猜他們在城里過的可好了，”小女孩說道?！八麄冞^的可舒服了。”
拿起報紙一氣把這篇長文看完，心卻似被什么東西緊緊揪住，要不是因為還有別人在，當(dāng)時真想大喊幾聲以抒胸中惡氣。雖然那些“上嘴皮靠著天，下嘴皮貼著地”的經(jīng)濟學(xué)家總是占據(jù)著媒體的主要目光，但我們的眼光卻不得不透過那些浮華的數(shù)字，看到八億農(nóng)民的艱辛生活。也許我們無法直接為農(nóng)民兄弟們做些什么，但至少下次在公車上相遇，請不要再對背著大包小包的他們側(cè)目而視。因為他們肩上所背負(fù)的，是一家人的希望；而他們所付出的，是健康乃至生命。
SHUANGHU, China - Yang Shan is in fourth grade and spends a few hours every day practicing her Chinese characters. Her script is neat and precise, and one day, instead of drills, she wrote letters to her parents and put them in the mail.
雙湖，中國 - 楊珊（音譯）上小學(xué)四年級，每天花幾個小時練習(xí)寫字。她寫的字干凈、整潔。有一天，她不再只是練習(xí)，而是給自己的父母寫了封信，并且把信發(fā)了出去。
"How is your health?" she asked.
Shan, who is 10, then added a more pointed question: "What is happening with our family?"
“你們身體怎么樣？”她寫到，隨后，這個10歲的小姑娘又提出了一個尖銳的問題：“我們家為什么會這樣？”
Her parents had left in March. Their absence was not new in Shan's short life. Her father, Yang Heqing, has left four times for work. He is now in Beijing on a construction site. Her mother, Ran Heping, has left three times. She is in a different city as a factory worker.
才三月，她的父母就走了。雖然楊珊才10歲，但面對這樣的離別已不是第了。她的爸爸楊和清現(xiàn)在在北京的一個建筑工地，這已經(jīng)是他第四次離家打工了。她的媽媽阮和平在另一座城市的工廠打工。
Over the years, Shan's parents have returned to this remote village to bring money and reunite the family. They leave when the money runs out, as it did in March. Her father had medical debts and needed cash to see another doctor. Shan's school fees were due, and her grandparents also needed help.
每一年，楊珊的父母個都會帶著賺到的錢回到這個偏僻的鄉(xiāng)村，一家人團聚。到了三月，隨著錢的告罄，他們再外出打工掙錢。她爸爸看病欠下了些債，而且繼續(xù)醫(yī)治還需要錢。楊珊學(xué)費要繳，她的爺爺奶奶也需要接濟。這一切都需要錢。
"I think they are suffering in order to make my life better," Shan said of her parents. She added a familiar Chinese expression: "They are eating bitterness."
“我想他們這么做，是為了讓我的生活好起來，”楊珊用一句我們所熟悉的中文說：“他們在吃苦?！?BR> For the Yang family and millions of others in the Chinese countryside, the only way to survive as a family is to not live as one. Migrant workers like Shan's parents are the mules driving the country's stunning economic growth. And the money they send home has become essential for jobless rural China.
對于楊家和數(shù)百外其他中國農(nóng)村家庭來說，分離是生存下去的辦法。如楊珊的父母這樣的農(nóng)民工，正是推動中國經(jīng)濟高速增長的引擎。而他們匯回家的錢則是貧困農(nóng)村的必要生活來源。
Yet even that money is no longer enough. Migrant wages have stagnated, education and health costs are rising, and the rural social safety net has collapsed - a crushing combination that is a major reason the income divide is widening so rapidly in China at the expense of the rural poor.
即使如此，錢還是不夠。民工的工資一直停滯不前，而教育和醫(yī)療的花費卻節(jié)節(jié)攀升，農(nóng)村社會保障體系已然不存。這種犧牲農(nóng)村的發(fā)展方式，也正是中國城市農(nóng)村收入差距不斷加大的關(guān)鍵原因。
Migration also has meant that urban and rural children in China are growing up in starkly different worlds. In cities, upwardly mobile couples call their precious only child xiao taiyang, or "little sun," as in center of the universe. Children are indulged with clothes, toys and snacks: childhood obesity is a new urban ill.
民工的外出，也意味著中國的城市和農(nóng)村孩子成長在一個完全不同的世界。在城市中，經(jīng)濟能力日益提高的父母們把自己寶貝的獨生子女稱作“小太陽”。嬌寵的孩子有著數(shù)不盡的衣服、玩具、快餐，而且兒童肥胖已經(jīng)成為一種新的城市病。
In the countryside, the new vernacular phrase is liu shou, or "left behind" child. Millions of children like Shan are growing up without one or both parents. Villages often seem to be missing a generation. Grandparents work the fields and care for the children.
而在農(nóng)村，一種新的說法是“留守兒童”。上百萬像珊珊一樣的孩子只有單親或者根本沒有父母陪在身邊。農(nóng)村就像是缺了一代人：祖父母在田間干活且照顧孫輩。
"We are a triangle, three people in three different places," said Mr. Yang, 36, the father. "The pain of missing one another is very difficult. All parents are the same in this world. All parents care about their children."
“我們家像是個三角形，三人各處一地，”36歲的楊和清說：“思念的痛苦是難熬的。世界上的父母都一樣，所有的父母都牽掛自己的孩子?！?BR> But Shan's parents, strapped with debt and obligation, are among the untold millions of people in rural China caught in a brutal cycle. Studies show that medical costs are the leading reason that people fall into poverty in China. Many city residents still have some health benefits, but peasants now fall under a pay-for-service system. Sickness can mean bankruptcy.
話雖這么說，但楊珊的父母依然像中國鄉(xiāng)村成百萬農(nóng)民工一樣，在債務(wù)和義務(wù)的驅(qū)使下外出打工。研究顯示，龐大的醫(yī)療費用，是致使中國人陷入貧窮的主要原因。城里人還有一些醫(yī)療保障，但農(nóng)村人看病全靠自己掏錢。生病，對他們來說意味著破產(chǎn)。
Mr. Yang went to Beijing in part to earn enough money for medical treatment. He was warned four years ago that he needed treatment for prostate problems, but he could not afford it. Now, his health has worsened on his construction job. He has missed days and is jeopardizing the pay he needs to see a doctor.
楊和清去北京打工，掙錢給自己治病也是一個目的。四年前，醫(yī)生已經(jīng)警告他身患前列腺疾病，但他無錢醫(yī)治。如今在建筑工地的工作惡化了他的病情；而因為病痛，他已經(jīng)幾天沒工作，這又威脅到他賴以治病的工錢。
His wife, Ms. Ran, 33, wants to visit her daughter in February for the Lunar New Year, when migrant workers traditionally go home. But she said her factory in the city of Baoding will fine her $72 - roughly six weeks' pay - if she does not work straight through to July. Shan's school fees are due soon, and the family needs more money.
楊和清的妻子，33歲的阮和平一直盤算著二月春節(jié)能回家看女兒，這段時間也正是民工們返鄉(xiāng)的時候。但她在保定打工的工廠規(guī)定，如果工人不能一直工作到明年七月，就要被扣掉差不多一個半的工資－－600塊錢。珊珊的學(xué)費就要繳了，家里也需要更多的錢。
Shan has never left this village in mountainous central China, a few hours' drive from the Three Gorges along the Yangtze River. She is still a child, but she understands the pressures on her family and how her own future depends on getting an education. She grew worried when the school began asking for next semester's tuition.
珊珊從來沒有離開過中國中部山區(qū)的這個村莊，他們的村莊離三峽只有幾個小時的車程。她很懂事，知道自己家庭的重壓，也懂得自己的未來靠的就是接受教育。但當(dāng)學(xué)校開始征收下學(xué)期的學(xué)費時，她又擔(dān)心了起來。
"I love school," she said.
“我喜歡學(xué)校?！彼f。
A Desperate Village
一個絕望的村莊
The students in Shan's fourth grade class rose in unison as the teacher, Du Nengwei, tapped his pointer against his desk to start the lesson.
四年級的老師杜能衛(wèi)將教鞭輕輕拍打了一下桌子，宣布了上課開始，珊珊和她的同學(xué)們便整齊的起立。
"Hello, teacher!" the children shouted dutifully in early December as Mr. Du, his eyes magnified through thick glasses, signaled for everyone to sit down. The children began shouting out memorization drills, and the sounds of rote drilling rose out of other classrooms, as noisy as squawking birds.
“老師好！”孩子們認(rèn)真的叫道。杜老師用那透過厚厚鏡片的眼睛示意同學(xué)們坐下。孩子們開始背誦課文，背誦的聲音貫穿了課堂，像是鳥兒嘈雜的叫聲。
The village school, the focus of so much hope, is little changed from a century ago. The dirty, whitewashed building is made of mud brick and concrete. Shan's classroom has no heat or electricity. Light comes from two small windows.
雖然是農(nóng)村孩子們的希望，但這鄉(xiāng)村學(xué)校在一個世紀(jì)以來卻沒有多大改變。教室是泥磚和水泥砌成的，里面沒有暖也沒有電，照明則全靠兩扇小小的窗戶。
Mr. Du said 8 of his 14 students had at least one parent who is a migrant worker. He knows that parents leave in order to pay tuition, about $50 a year for families that often live on less than $300 a year. School, even this school, is their only chance, he said.
杜老師說，他的14個學(xué)生中，有8個孩子都有父母進(jìn)城務(wù)工。他知道農(nóng)民們打工賺錢也是為了給孩子們掙學(xué)費，雖然家庭收入還不足2500元，一年的學(xué)費卻需要400元。而學(xué)校（即使是這樣的學(xué)校），也是農(nóng)民子弟們的希望。
"Some say they want to be a driver, a scientist or a teacher," Mr. Du said. "But nobody wants to go on being a farmer." Of Shan, he said, "she studies very hard and does well."
“同學(xué)們說想當(dāng)司機、科學(xué)家或者教師，”杜老師說?！暗珱]有人還想做農(nóng)民。”至于珊珊，他說：“她學(xué)習(xí)很努力，也很不錯?！?BR> She usually ranks second or third in the class. At home, she studies as much as three hours a day. She said she wanted to advance to middle school, then high school, even college.
她一般在班里拿第二第三。每天回家后，她都要學(xué)習(xí)三個小時左右。她說自己想繼續(xù)讀初中、高中、甚至大學(xué)。
"The more schooling I have, the more knowledge I have," she said.
“讀的書越多，懂的知識就越多，”珊珊說。
Her home is a mud-walled communal house built more than a century ago during the Qing Dynasty. Her grandparents sleep in one section, her aunt and younger cousin in another. Shan sleeps alone in two unheated rooms converted from a small barn. Her room is above the pen with the family's three pigs. Her parent's empty room is over the open pit that is the communal toilet.
珊珊的家是清朝時建的老房子，她的爺爺奶奶睡一間，嬸嬸和堂弟們睡另一間。珊珊獨自睡在兩間從畜圈改過來的房子里。她的房間在三頭豬的豬圈上面，她爸媽的空房間則在家里的廁所上面。
"I'm not scared," she said. She has painted her colorless wooden shutter with the Chinese characters for "wealth" and "prosperity."
“我不怕，”她說道。她在自己房間的木窗上寫慢了中文漢字“財富”，“繁榮?！?BR> Her grandfather, Yang Xianglin, 72, said his three sons each contributed $150 a year to support the family. Two of the three are migrant workers; the third just returned home from a migrant job. But the money is not enough, so the grandfather must borrow from other relatives.
珊珊的爺爺，72歲的楊祥林說自己的三個兒子每年給家里貼1200元。三個兒子中，兩個都在外務(wù)工，剩下一個也是剛剛回來；但盡管如此，錢還總是不夠，爺爺不得不向親戚們?nèi)ソ桢X。
Shan knows she is poor, but does not seem to feel poverty's sharp sting. Asked if she has any toys, she brightened and showed off two tiny plastic figurines and a single silk flower. Her parents cannot afford more, though her mother stitched her a pink sweater.
珊珊知道家里窮，但年紀(jì)還不大的她卻并不以此為苦。記者問她有沒有什么玩具，她立刻歡喜起來地拿出兩個塑料小人和一朵綢做的小花。此外媽媽還給她織過一件紅毛衣，超出這些的父母就負(fù)擔(dān)不起了。
"She misses them always," her grandfather said. "She keeps asking, when will her parents come home?"
“珊珊老想他們，”爺爺說?！八偸菃?，爸爸媽媽什么時候回來呀？”
Nearly every family in Shuanghu has had someone leave. Local wages are as low as $1 a day; a migrant can make $5 or more. A few fortunate families have built concrete homes with migrant money.
在雙湖，幾乎每個家里都有人外出務(wù)工。本地的工資一天只有8元錢，而一個農(nóng)民工每天能掙40元。少數(shù)幸運的家庭靠著打工帶回的錢已經(jīng)蓋起了新房。
"We have more freedom now than when we had a communal life," said Lei Jinchen, 53, a neighbor whose two sons work at the same factory as Shan's mother. "We can now go out and find work. But we only have enough to feed ourselves. That's it."
53歲的雷金辰說：“比起以前農(nóng)民公社時期，現(xiàn)在自由多了，至少能出去打工。不過也僅僅能養(yǎng)活自己而已。”雷金辰是珊珊家的鄰居，他有兩個兒子也在珊珊媽媽的工廠工作。
Central government leaders often boast of new programs to benefit China's poorest villages. One national program called for farmers to hand over land for reforestation in exchange for annual payments. In 2002, Shan's grandfather surrendered two-thirds of an acre for promised payments of $65 a year. As yet, he and other farmers have received nothing.
中央的領(lǐng)導(dǎo)們常常自夸扶助貧困地區(qū)的新政策。有個“退耕還林”的國家政策，許諾只要農(nóng)民退還土地造林，就能每年給以補助。2002年，珊珊的爺爺退了四畝地，想著每年能拿540元補助?？芍两駷橹?，他也其他的退地農(nóng)民一分也沒有拿到。
Shuanghu was also designated for special antipoverty assistance, and about 50 families - including the Yangs - were named poverty households eligible to divide a $2,500 annual fund, or about $50 per family. But again, the Yangs and others have gotten nothing.
雙湖還有上面特派的扶貧?？?，大約有50戶人家（包括楊家）每年該收到扶貧款20000元，平均每家每年400元。但是他們的希望又落空。
"Not many benefits get down to us," Mr. Lei said. "Local governments skim most of the money off."
“沒有多少錢能到我們頭上，”雷金辰說，“地方政府把大頭都拿走了?！?BR> So what remains is migrant work for the young and farming for the old. The mountainous landscape is impressive, but only narrow strips of land can be used for farming. In early December, Shan left for school one morning, and her grandparents walked up a rocky hillside toward their small plot.
所以剩下的辦法只有讓年輕人出去打工，老年人留家種田了。山區(qū)的景色是挺不錯，但是能用作耕種的地卻很有限。12月初的一天，珊珊去上學(xué)了，爺爺奶奶則走到一塊充滿碎石的坡地，開始他們的耕種。
The frost had lifted, and the grandmother, Hu Yangui, 65, squatted in the dirt and pulled turnips. She takes medicine for stomach ailments and arthritis, and the work tires her. She would let the turnips dry in the sun until afternoon, then feed them to the pigs beneath Shan's bedroom.
珊珊的奶奶，65的胡艷桂，有胃病和關(guān)節(jié)炎，需要吃藥。在霜散盡的地里，奶奶正蹲在地上拔蘿卜，拔出的蘿卜要在先太陽底下曬干，然后喂給家里的豬吃。
The grandfather grabbed a large bale of corn stalks to use as bedding for the pigs and loaded it onto his back. His arthritis sometimes keeps him from sleeping, but he said the corn was not heavy. In a lower field, a child's voice echoed against the hillsides. It was Shan's cousin, Yang Qinlin, 4. Her own father works several hours away, and she goes months without seeing him.
爺爺抓起一大捆玉米稈，把他們負(fù)到背上，這些鋪豬圈用的。雖然爺爺?shù)年P(guān)節(jié)炎很重，常常讓他無法入睡；但爺爺說，玉米稈不重。山下，一個孩子的聲音傳到了山坡上。這是珊珊的表妹，4歲的楊琴琳，雖然她爸爸在不遠(yuǎn)的城鎮(zhèn)打工，但她也已經(jīng)幾個月沒見爸爸了。
She was singing a melancholy poem about missing home that is memorized by schoolchildren across China:
Looking up, I find the moon bright;
Bowing down, in homesickness I'm drowned.
她在朗誦一首描述思鄉(xiāng)之情的古詩，這是一首中國孩子們都耳熟能詳?shù)脑姡?BR> 舉頭望明月；低頭思故鄉(xiāng)。
An Ailing Father
一個生病的父親
On the worst nights, Yang Heqing is awakened by the cold. His bunkroom is in a warehouse district in southern Beijing that is home to tens of thousands of migrants. There is no heat for the subfreezing temperatures, and the bunks are planks of plywood attached to metal scaffolding.
在冷的夜里，楊和清總被凍醒。他住的工棚位于北京南面的一個倉庫里，和他同住在這一片的有上萬農(nóng)民工。他們睡在木板搭成的高低鋪上，雖然北京的冬夜氣溫已經(jīng)在零度以下，但他們的工棚當(dāng)然不會有暖氣。
The room, provided by the construction company, is like a map of poverty in China's rural interior. Mr. Yang and three others from around his village sleep on two rows of bunks. Farmers from central Sichuan Province are in a different section. Apple farmers from dusty Shaanxi Province sleep across the room beside a few men from destitute areas in Hubei Province.
建筑公司提供的房子，就像一張中國內(nèi)地農(nóng)村的貧苦地圖。楊和清和另外三個同村人占著兩個高低鋪，四川中部來的一些農(nóng)民則睡在另外一邊，幾個湖北貧困地區(qū)來的人旁邊睡著一個陜西來的蘋果農(nóng)。
There are 40 men in a room 30 feet long.
9米長的房間里睡著40個男人。
Asked how many of them have left wives and children at home, one man yelled, "All of us." Asked how much they are getting paid for working 12 hours a day, seven days a week for almost a year, they give an embarrassed answer.
當(dāng)記者問，他們中有多少人是拋妻棄子來城里打工的。一人叫道：“我們?nèi)恰?。但?dāng)記者接著問“你們的工錢有多少”時，這些一周工作七天、一天工作十二小時的工人們卻扭捏起來。
"We don't know," another man admitted.
“我們也不知道，”一人說。
Mr. Yang, like the others, came to Beijing last March. He and his three friends learned from a cousin about a job working on a new government building. No firm promises were made on pay. Some men were told they could earn $500 or more for the year, nearly double the average income in the countryside. Others were told that workers from different provinces would be paid different wages.
和其他人一樣，楊和清也是三月來的北京。他和三個朋友現(xiàn)在在北京的一個建筑工地干活，這個活是從他的一個堂兄弟那兒聽說的。至于報酬并沒有訂約，有些人聽說一年能掙4000多元，這幾乎是農(nóng)村收入的兩倍。另一些人則聽說不同省的人給不同的工錢。
No one knows. The crew bosses will pay them when the job is done in January. Until then, the company provides daily rice or noodles, and workers get $12 a month in spending money if they work at least 25 days. Mr. Yang said he had missed many workdays because of illness. He often gets only $6 in monthly spending money as a penalty.
沒人知道。包工頭要到一月份工程完工了才會發(fā)工資。在那之前，公司提供每天的米面，每月上工25天以上工人，一個月發(fā)100元用以日常開支。楊和清說，自己因為生病缺了很多天工，所以除去罰款每月常常只能拿到50元錢。
"Sometimes I can feel the pain while I work," he said. "My chest hurts, and I have no energy."
“干活時也不時會感覺到痛，”他說?！拔业男乜谔郏瑴喩頉]力氣?！?BR> Mr. Yang first became sick in 2000 after five months working for an oil company in the far western region of Xinjiang. He earned nearly $600, a bounty, but he would spend all of it on medicine and visits to doctors. The diagnosis was pneumonia and inflammation of his prostate. At a city hospital, a doctor recommended $1,200 in treatment, a price he could not pay. Mr. Yang returned home, and his wife feared he might have cancer.
楊和清第得病是在2000年，是他在新疆的一個石油公司干了五個月之后。他掙了一大筆錢——5000元，可是后來都用在看病和買藥上了。城里醫(yī)生的診斷是肺炎和前列腺炎，并且建議他花10000元左右進(jìn)行治療，這個價格是楊和清無法承受的。于是他放棄治病而回了家，他的妻子阮和平則擔(dān)心他是得了癌癥。
"He lost hope," Ms. Ran said. "He said, 'If I die, I don't care.' I said, 'You can't leave behind your parents and your daughter.' "
“他失去了信心，”阮和平說，“他說‘死了就死了’我說‘你不能就這樣拋下爸媽和女兒?！?BR> Weakened, Mr. Yang stayed home for four years, and his wife left for work, alone, in May 2000. His father said he then became frustrated that his wife, not himself, was supporting the family. His daughter knew something was wrong.
由于身體虛弱，楊在家里呆了四年；2000年五月開始，他的妻子就獨自去城里打工。楊的父親說，因為靠著妻子在外干活養(yǎng)家糊口，楊和清變得日益沮喪。女兒珊珊也察覺到了家中的變化。
"I always saw him buying medicine," Shan said. Her parents "don't know that I know," she added. "I'm afraid his sickness will become worse and worse."
In March, Mr. Yang felt he had to find work. He owed relatives nearly $300 for medical bills, and he could not make money at home. Sitting in his bunk in early December, he recalled the rush of excitement he felt arriving in Beijing to play some small role in building the country's booming capital.
His friend, Yang Xianglin, leaned over from the other bunk. He is a first-time migrant worker. Like many villagers, he thought working in Beijing would be exciting, even liberating. Now he wants to finish his job, get paid and never come back.
"It's not what we imagined," he said. "Migrant work is too hard. Even if the bosses are crooked, we have to obey them. I can't stand this. This isn't freedom."
Yang Heqing agreed, more from exhaustion than outrage. He had missed so much work that he finally borrowed money from his crew boss and visited a city hospital on Dec. 10. A doctor examined his prostate and suggested tests. The cost was $250; the boss had lent him $12.
Mr. Yang walked from the hospital to a nearby pharmacy and bought over-the-counter anti-inflammation pills. He said he was tempted to quit, take whatever pay the boss will give him and see the doctor again. But he also knows that he might not even get paid enough to return home.
Asked about his plans for his health and his family, he could only imagine as far as January, when his job will be done.
"My hope is for a few thousand yuan at the end of the year," he said. That is a few hundred dollars.
A Factory Mother
一個工人母親
The outdoor market in Baoding is a patch of dirt where farmers have laid out mushrooms, tofu, cabbage and carrots. Cuts of meat are arranged on a flatbed, but Ran Heping cannot afford those. She and three relatives have just finished a 12-hour night shift at their factory and are making a weekly grocery run.
A handsome vendor haggles with Ms. Ran over the price of a head of cabbage. He is flirting and offers her a ride home. She laughs and walks away. She later says distance has destroyed the marriages of several workers at the factory.
Her factory in Baoding, about 90 minutes south of Beijing by train, makes metal balls for lawn games, to be exported to Europe and America, and smaller balls that Chinese manipulate with their hands as a form of traditional therapy.
It is dirty, difficult work, but the factory is a popular destination for migrants from Shuanghu because of word-of-mouth referrals. More than half the 70 employees are from around the village. The job is piecework, so workers get paid for each ball. During peak months, a worker casting metal or polishing can make more than $100. Usually, though, workers make less than $50.
Ms. Ran came here in 2000 when she left the village to support the family. Leaving her daughter worried Ms. Ran, but Shan was starting school and tuition was due. Ms. Ran also knew that her husband's illness gave her little choice.
"I knew we couldn't survive like this," she said. "I told Shan, 'I will go to work, and you be a good girl at home' "
She returned home nearly two years later. She brought almost $1,000, which went for medical bills, clothes, food, school fees, fertilizer and other farming costs. "When the money was gone, we needed more," she said. "I decided to go out again."
This time it was a shorter trip, from July 2002 until February 2003. She brought home only $210 after the factory deducted $72 for leaving without working a full year. She was furious and filed a complaint with the local labor bureau. Nothing happened.
The Yangs were together in the village for a year. But medical and school bills forced them apart again. When Mr. Yang left for Beijing last March, his wife left for a plastics factory. She later quit and tried to join her husband in Beijing.
"We are a family," her husband told her. "When we can, we should be together."
They were together for less than 10 days. Ms. Ran worked at a pastry factory but quit because the pay was so bad. She also said the cost of renting a room and living together in expensive Beijing would have erased the couple's savings.
She returned to Baoding and the metal ball factory in September. She is an inspector, an easier job that pays up to $40 a month. She is not lonely because several cousins work at the factory. They talk about their children or visit a local park together. There are days when she says being away in a big city can be exciting.
"There are no department stores where we are from," she said.
In November, she bought a bottle of shampoo for her long black hair. It was first time in her life she had ever bought shampoo. It cost $1.50.
These lighter moments are leavened by the dark. On the telephone, she pleads with her husband to see a doctor. "I said, 'When you get paid, spend all your wages to get better.' I said I would send my money home to take care of the family."
"But he doesn't really want treatment because it will cost so much," she said.
The grandparents called in December to ask for another $25 for Shan's tuition next year. Mrs. Ran wants to visit her daughter in February at New Year's. But her bosses insist she must work until July or again lose pay. She is angry but has decided she must stay. Her daughter does not know yet.
"I just hope that Heqing will recover and we can work together to put Yang Shan at least through high school," Ms. Ran said, when asked what she wanted for her future. "If his health doesn't improve, I'm worried we'll only be able to send her to middle school."
"It's a hard life," she added, "but we have no other choice."
An Unknown Future
一個未知的將來
Shan's grandparents say she almost never cries. She is happy playing with her friends and her cousins. Her parents both called on her birthday in July. She said it had made her happy.
珊珊的爺爺奶奶說，她很少會哭。她和自己的堂兄妹們玩的很開心。在珊珊七月生日時，爸媽都有打電話回來，珊珊說她特別高興。
In early December, she sat outside and practiced writing. The letters she had sent her parents months earlier never reached them; she did not have a reliable addresses.
十二月初的一天，她坐在門外練習(xí)寫字。她幾個月前給爸爸媽媽寫的信，他們沒有能收到；因為她并沒有一個可靠的地址。
Now, she started writing in a notebook.
現(xiàn)在，她在筆記本上寫著：
"I want a ticket, a boat ticket and a bus ticket," she scribbled for a visiting photographer.
Where does she want to go?
"To see my parents," she answered. "I want to see my mom and dad. I think about them all the time."
“我想要一張票，船票或者車票，”她寫給探訪她的攝像師。
她想去哪兒？
“去看我的爸爸媽媽，”她答道?！拔蚁肟纯次业陌职謰寢?，我天天都在想他們?！?BR> For the moment, her earlier, darker image of their life had lifted. She wanted to join them. She wanted to be a migrant worker.
"I think their life is very good," the little girl answered.
"Their life is smooth."
此時，珊珊心中父母原本在外受苦的的場景不見了，而代之以好的多的生活。她想去加入他們，她也想去做一個農(nóng)民工。
“我猜他們在城里過的可好了，”小女孩說道?！八麄冞^的可舒服了。”