CHINA, NATIONAL, BEIJING, SOCIETY, MIGRANT LABORERS: Just Making Do, Selling Fruit in Beijing

By Zhu Chaoli (Julia)

Though only 37, Wu You seems older than her age. She, together with her husband, has been running a sidewalk fruit stall outside the southern gate of BFSU for more than ten years.

They both come from a small village in southern Henan Province, which is considered to be one of the poorer areas in today's China. "It is by chance that my husband and I came here," Wu said. "Life in our hometown was just too hard. So one of our relatives already in Beijing suggested we come to seek a chance." And they came. With a small tricycle, the couple stocked themselves from the Fruit Wholesale Market of Mingguangsi and packed up a small stall.

It was not easy in the first few years. The couple rented a small room more than ten miles away from where they ran the business. "Our first daughter was still small then, so I had to care for her at home and it was my husband who managed the stall and earned the money."

Wu was referring to the years when a large amount of rural laborers began to flood into big cities. At that time, the city's regulation of private stalls, especially those set up by people from outside of Beijing, was very strict.

"When selling fruit, we had to keep an alert eye so that we could quickly notice officers of the city administration and run away from them," Zhang Jing, Wu's husband, explained while displaying goods on the shelves. "For once caught, one would be fined about 200 Yuan and worse still, one might be sent back to the police station of his hometown, waiting for a family member to bail him out," Zhang said. "But one can never be too careful. I was still caught about two times per month. And the money I had earned went all for that."

In recent years, as the government began to pay attention to the development of rural areas and the life of rural laborers, the supervision over owners of the small stalls was relaxed. "Now we don't have to worry about the officers as much as before, though they may still come on special days, such as the days around Spring Festival," Zhang said.

But the relaxation of policy also provoked an enormous increase of fruit stalls. The number of similar stalls in the area of Weigongcun, once reached over one hundred. This added greatly to their difficulty in earning a living.

"The competition was more and more fierce. Therefore we had to cut the price," Wu said. A number of the other fruit vendors couldn't meet the increasingly tight competition and gave up. But Wu and her husband stuck it out.

"It is not easy for people like us to find a job. Even if you find it, it may be as laborious as the present yet with lower pay," Wu sighed. "It is really toilsome to run this small stall, but we have no better choice. The good thing is that the stall can narrowly support the family."

As thousands of rural laborers rush into the city and compete for the very limited labor jobs, the opportunities are few. On the other hand, to go back to farming is also not a good option. "As peasants, you make great efforts but gain little," said Zhang. He went on to give an example of his experience growing legumes. After spending great efforts on tilling the fields, scattering seeds, watering, fertilizing, and later reaping and packing, they only earned a gross profit of 30 Yuan per day. "That is far from enough for the whole family," Zhang said.

Luckily for them, their honesty, integrity and hard work through all these years gained them a good reputation among their customers, which ensured repeat business. "You feel assured buying fruit from them. They never cheat me on the weight and their fruit is usually fresh," said Ms Liu, a resident living nearby.

"The quality of their fruit is good and the price is also reasonable, much lower than that on campus," a BFSU student said as he was buying apples.

"They are warm and kind. And sometimes they will give some other kind of fruit to you for free," said Miss Li, who identified herself as a senior student in BFSU.

However, life is still hard for them. Here is what Wu said about a day in their life:

"My two children get up at 6:30 a.m., prepare breakfast themselves and then go to school. I start out at 8 o'clock in the morning. My husband has gotten up much earlier since he has to stock the goods. I pull the tricycle out and start the business.

"There are two rush hours in the day. The first is 11 a.m. to 1 p.m. when students finish their morning’s classes. As we have to care for the customers, our lunchtime is not fixed, sometimes 11 a.m., and sometimes 1:30 p.m. The content of our lunch is instant noodles or steam bread (steam bread costs about 0.5 Yuan), or fast food (3 Yuan each).

"It is not very busy in the afternoon until 5:30. My daughter often prepares our supper when she comes back from school. Then my husband and I will go separately to sell goods. He will go onto the streets, constantly changing locations, sometimes as far as Sanyimiao (more than half an hour ride from Weigongcun). After 10:30, when there are few students passing by outside the university, I go into the street, too."

The very nature of the business means instability of income, yet for a family that includes three generations, there are certain fixed expenditures. According to Wu, every new term, the family has to hand in a total of 1,000 Yuan for their two children’s education. Every month, they pay 600 Yuan for rent, 60-70 Yuan for electricity and water, and send several hundred back to their hometown for their grandparents. Though they have tried their best to save money, such as cutting down on the cost of their meals, and seldom purchasing new clothes--most of their clothes, including the children’s, are donations from the nearby residents--they have great difficulties meeting just these basic living costs.

As typical a country wife as Wu You is, she has something special of her own. As the fourth child of her family, she enjoyed a comparatively happy childhood. Her parents didn't put much farm work or family chores on her and, instead, sent her to school, which was very rare in the countryside at that time. She was very hard-working and insisted on continuing her schooling until she finished senior school.

Restricted by the unenlightened village education and the awkward financial situation of her family, she didn't make it to university. "I am very regretful about that. Even to this day, I constantly dream of the days of studying in school and admiring the famous works," she sighed. "Now it is too late for me to go back to school. Therefore, all I wish now is that my children make good use of their chance, work hard, and realize the dream I couldn't."

When referring to her children, she is proud as well as deeply concerned. "The teachers think highly of my daughter and keep saying she is doing well in her lessons. But I don't think so. I think she still has a long way to go and shouldn't be slack."

Wu has a Chinese mother's typical expectation for her children. "I am sorry that all we can give them is so little. My daughter even has to help us after coming back from school. I just hope they will change it themselves! I hope they can work hard, go to a good senior school, attend a good college, and thus find a good job. As for their education fees and living costs, I, together with my husband, will pay for them so long as we have the capability, and we will try our best."