Mrs. Shanghai

“I make 10 trips every day to the junkyard. I earn 70 so I spend 50. Prices are high, the rent’s 800. But prices aren’t high for cabbages and tomatoes. If I don’t spend, I save. And when money isn’t enough, I split my meals. Hey, I’m fluid.”

We met on a breezy Sunday when even the hardest workers were off in their private blizzards enjoying themselves. Yet, in a small alley, she was scrapping up the remains of a cardboard pile. She was clothed well, cloaking herself in a rich blue jacket and heavy wool pants.

A Dusted Alley, 2023

She lived with a flamboyancy uncommonly associated with her age – a lifestyle akin to an urban wanderer. Her family was in a rural part of China, sustaining little contact with her she said. “I save for my grandson.” she often repeats.

She seemed to be a fortunate survivor of Shanghai’s high prices. Her cozy 1-room apartment carved out in the fractured alleyway of downtown Shanghai was her beacon of homeliness. Inside, were one comfy couch and a brick bed layered with woven cotton.

“Ma’am, how much do you save?”

She pulled out her dusted phone, only to find out that it was out of battery.

“I earn 70 so I spend 50. 20 a day for my grandson.”

Her murky eye flickered as she mentioned her grandson.

A drop of transcalent tear soaked into the cardboard piece she held. Tears weren’t at all what I expected from her weathered visage. Her husband passed a month ago and she was going through a hard time. It wasn’t hard because of the materialistic hardships; it was because of the loss of light, and the abandonment of hope. And she isn’t a survivor, she’s the gladiator that plays the silent martyr.

Behind her shadow, I saw a fierce soul, a person craving for a slight amount of sustenance. She invoked a deep gush of respect for her – I was frightened and awed by the hardships she overcame introduced by merely her side chatters. The road that she trekked throughout her life isn’t one glittering with fame, fortune, or a dragon to slay, it was an endless journey riddled with one battle after another. And she won every one of them.

What was her name? I didn’t ask. But she lived and breathed Shanghai like no one else.