I just read New Yorker writer, Evan Osnos' blog entry, A Billion Stories. I immediately identified with his portrayal of Chinese migrant workers who sweep roads, collect trash and do other jobs that most people would dread having to do each day, especially for very meager pay.
I often feel a mixture of pity and admiration for these people, especially during the sweltering heat and humidity of summertime in Xiamen. Despite their harsh working conditions, they seem to have good attitudes and are usually very friendly, smiling at the foreigner biking by them. Sometimes I see them at lunch time, sitting on the ground at the side of the road eating and chatting.
I doubt that many of them are aspiring poets like Qi Xiangfu described in Mr. Osnos' article. However, I can't help wondering where they come from and what they chose to leave to move hundreds or maybe thousands of miles away from their homes to take jobs sweeping dusty roads each day that will be just as dusty the next day.
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