Among the cracks

Demolition areas are cracks in the glamorous porcelain veneer of a city. It was in one of those cracks where I met him. Strolling along the Suzhou River, I watched the towering skyscrapers of the Bund gleam in the sun. Yet, glancing around the neighborhoods around me, it was as if the sun had never reached these corners. A few shops were hidden under scaffolds, their fading signs blinking weakly. His shop stood out — tucked away in the depths of a food market.

Most of the shop owners in the food market start preparing around midnight every day. He’s schedule is more demanding, work for him begins every day around 9 pm and stretches into the early afternoon the next day. “This is what we call Zao Chu Wan Gui (Leaving at dawn and returning at dusk), it is what life is like for those at the society’s fringe, the truly marginalized.”

Yet even though placing himself at the bottom, he drew finer lines around it. “Compared to those who work in a factory or on a construction site, I think my work is more rewarding.… Yes, the hours are exhausting, but the income is two or three times greater. The lowest sector of society is not the hardworking poor, but those who are idle and unwilling to try.”

The demolition area

Making a living in Shanghai is like standing on an unsteady rock in a rushing river; lose your balance slightly, and you could topple over. “Booth fee, rent, water, and electricity bills… all of that adds up to 12 thousand RMB every month. That means we must make a daily profit of 1500 to 2000 just to survive.”

He’s generation is one of the most iconic in China, known for their unyielding resilience and work ethic. “No matter what challenge lies ahead, I am ready to work hard and face it. Our younger generation — my children’s generation — lacks this quality. With all the opportunities and resources available in this current society, if this generation had even half of our perseverance, they would achieve so much more.”

“This generation is born in such a great time,” he elaborated. “Back in the 70s, when I was born, we were too poor to afford education. Now, children get nine years of education guaranteed.”

“To be frank, I still don’t think the current education system is fair enough. Why only nine years of free education? China has the means to provide a university for all. The Gao Kao (national college entrance) system is also unfair. Shanghai-born children can get into local universities with a lower score. As for those children from Anhui, Henan, and all the other provinces, they need much higher to reach the same opportunity. Children from remote villages do not get the same opportunities as children raised in cities… The policies still hold back people on the margins.”

He himself came from a remote village and endured years of scarcity in food and daily necessities. He learned many trades, moving from watchmaking to masonry, before settling into fish selling, for his sixteenth year now.

“Back in the 90s, we (workers from nearby provinces in Shanghai) lived in fear and anxiety every day. One day, I was with my younger sister on the streets when we were arrested by cops for not bringing our temporary residence permit with us. I tried explaining that I forgot to bring it with me, but we were sent back to where we came from. Eventually, making it bad in the city, that kind of fear continued to haunt us every day. It was when President Hu Jin Tao changed the policies that this kind of violent arrest stopped happening.”

The lowest sector of society dwells where light barely reaches. They are like moss clinging to the shadows, growing in the darkness yet yearning for a glimpse of brightness.

Now the times have changed. Their biggest challenge has shifted from mere survival to facing intense competition. “With all kinds of online retailers, we working at food markets are greatly affected. We barely see any new customers, especially no young people. My business relies on a few restaurants and longtime neighbors I’ve served over the years.”

Like many food markets, the demolition nearby has also cast its shadow over their livelihood. As retail sales plummet, keeping the business afloat grows ever more difficult.

Just then, a customer approached him and called out in Shanghainese, “Zhou Si Fu, Lo Yang Zi” (Master Zhou, the usuals please.)

As I walked away, I glanced back and heard him reply in fluent Shanghainese, tinged with a touch of Anhui accent. A slender strand of sunlight had found its way to his doorstep.