Migrants and their giant granola bars

Everyday after work, I walk pass the same group of young men on my way home. There are usually 4 to 6 of them, parked near the entrance to one of the busiest bus transfer and subway stations in the city, Dongzhimen; and each of them are selling to the passersby something resembling a giant granola bar from the deck of their bicycle carts. These hefty, scrumptious- chewy-looking treats are about 3 foot long, 2 foot wide, 1 foot high, and covered with walnuts and dried fruit. Everyday as I pass them, I would check on the progress of their sales. "Is the mound almost gone? Oh, good - it's been a good day for them", I'd think to myself. Other times I'd see that there's still more than half remaining on the carts and I can't help but share in their disappointment.

Another thing that strikes me about this gang is that of their appearance: light brown hair, high foreheads; round, deep-set, those sought-after "doubled-lidded eyes"; brown skin; and some of them are sporting bushy moustaches that the wide majority of the Chinese men can't grow. With the exception of their shorter, slender frame, they don't look "Chinese". (In fact some of them might not even consider themselves Chinese, but I'm not going to open up that can of political worms right now.) These men are from the northwest, highly rural and Muslim region of China, areas that borders central Asian countries like Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan; and the fact that they are so far from home is by no means unusual. This group of giant muesli bar peddlers are just a handful among the estimated 120 million migrant workers scattered throughout China. The literal translation for "migrant workers" in Chinese is "farm village workers", as the term "migrant worker" does not refer to urbanites that choose to move to other cities; but rather describes people from rural areas that have been forced to leave their homes in search of work, like internally-displaced economic refugees.

When you're in a large city like Beijing, you start thinking that all of the migrants in the entire country must be here. They are EVERYWHERE. They are the Sichuanian servers in the eateries; the Tibetan girls selling jewellery made of Tibetan Turquoise from the floors of the subway stations; the garbage collectors on bicycles that pull the light blue refuse bins; the army of street sweepers in fluorescent orange safety vests and white cotton masks; and the construction labourers that are pouring the concrete for the next upscale office or condo high-rise on your street. In reality, most of them, 80 to 90 million, are working in places hidden from public view, in garment factories, chemical plants, scrapyards, brickyards, fireworks shops and coal mines. Their muscle, sweat and blood contribute immensely to the gigantic, economic machine that is China, and they are also one of the most invisible and vulnerable population groups.

Many of them work in small to medium sized private enterprises, where employers refuse to provide formal contracts nor medical and disability insurance. In the absence of a well-developed worker's compensation mechanism, there is no negative financial or regulatory feedback that forces employers to pay or causes them economic loss should their employees get hurt or become ill due to their job. Thus the employers will continue to neglect their duties to make working conditions safer.

For example, it is widespread knowledge that China's coal mines are the most deadly work sites in the world. Xinhua News Agency (2006) reports that nearly 6,000 people were killed in over 3,341 coal mine accidents in 2005. Accidents and explosions at chemical factories, fireworks workshops, construction sites and other industrial operations are also common occurrences.

The issue of workplace diseases is equally pressing. Pneumoconiosis, a chronic lung disease caused by sustained exposure from the inhalation of coal, silicon, cement, and other mineral or metallic dust is the most prevalent type of workplace disease. 11,000 to 12,000 new cases are reported each year – accounting for 77% of all new cases of occupational diseases. Any official occupational disease statistics are underestimates as many millions of migrant workers are not receiving regular medical screening and services, and therefore are not diagnosed.

Though Chinese Labour and Workplace Safety Laws exist, enforcement has been weak and poorly coordinated between the various departments and levels of government with mandates to regulate this area. How does a country even began to effectively manage literally millions of enterprises that are said to be potentially involved in hazardous activities? And do they even want to? And where do they start?

I have a personal interest in occupational health because it's one of the few problems that is absolutely preventable by changing the work environment, work processes and through personal protective equipment. It's not like AIDS, Tuberculosis, and other communicable diseases where we have to constantly be on guard about drug or vaccine resistance and fight an uphill battle with controlling the spread of infections. Also I feel deeply for the otherwise able-bodied men and women, who should be living the most productive years of their lives to be unnecessarily impacted by injuries and disease that keeps them from continuing to provide for their families.

These are just a few of the issues that I am getting acquainted with during my internship, and hopefully, I won't stop at just learning about them but actually get to contribute somewhat to the alleviation of these problems.

'Mo Privacy, 'Mo Problem.

In a city of 10 or so million people, one needs to let go of their personal bubble very quickly. Coming to Beijing, I was fully prepared for being constantly pressed up against strangers on buses and trains; and everyday having to file into and out of chaotic metro and bus transfer stations under conditions of what one might expect at the Edmonton-Coliseum station post-Oilers game – except with a business casual crowd that's less rowdy and inebriated.

However, I had forgotten that one needs to be literally prepared to be comfortable in one's own skin – as in to be seen ONLY in one's own skin. Among people of the same gender, there's no concept of the need for privacy. I have two illustrations of this.

This past weekend, I was staying over with an aunt and the temperature was sweltering (over 30C and humid) well into the evening. Around 8 pm, auntie says, "Take a shower, it'll help you cool off." Now, before I go further, I need to explain that a washroom in the typical middle-class high-rise apartment in Beijing is small, perhaps just 2 m X 2 m, and consists pretty much of a toilet, sink and a shower head mounted on one of the walls. One wouldn't take anything into the washroom during a shower that one doesn't want to get wet. My usual method at home is to undress in my room, cover up with a towel, race to the washroom, swing my towel over one of the various wires strung up between the pipes along the opposite corner as the shower head and then… well shower.

"Auntie, can I get a towel please?"
"Sure", she says and passes me a little thing that's about the same size as the typical dish cloth. As I stared at the towel and pondered how one can possibly physically maintain their modesty with it, she says, "Just change here." HERE - as in in the main hallway/reception area of her small, 400 sq. feet apartment, which by the way, also doubles as a study/dining/laundry area. So what can an obedient niece do but comply, and I mean it really shouldn't be a big deal considering there weren't any males in the house.

Now for le deuxieme example, a few days ago, I was at a little boutique and wanted to try on some dresses. As the sales girl directs me to the store's one and only fitting room, we see another customer just slipping in. So what does any normal Canadian gal do? Stand by the fitting room and wait of course. What does the sales girl do? She knocks on the door and announces, "Hey miss, you're going to have to share the fitting room with someone okay?" She doesn't wait for a reply, opens the door and tells me "Okay, go in." I myself being such a sheep, again comply and as I'm sharing the fitting room with this lovely stranger, I convince myself it's not thaaat weeeird; it's just like the first time I was in the locker room in 7th grade gym class right?

So there you had it – my first few anecdotes from Beijing, as perceived from the eyes of a semi-/quasi foreigner.

I didn't end up buying anything from that store; perhaps I was protesting their lack of a privacy policy and well… also that their clothes were only designed for women who weigh 100Ibs and are pre-pubescently thin!