Back to Basics

I am home a lot more these days, trying to get Carter into a schedule and giving him a bit more solid sleep than what he gets in the car, stroller, at gymnastics, swimming lessons…well, you get the picture.  I have started eating lunch with my ayi a bit more and working on my Chinese language skills with some small talk.  Like most small talk, it starts with talk about the weather, the weekend activities, the kids, etc.  This past Thursday, I was busy getting ready for Thanksgiving.  We got talking and we got on the subject of our upcoming move (just within Shanghai…our landlord is kicking us out.)  I told her we had decided to stay in the building, just moving down 5 floors.  She asked what happened to the other place I had told her about and I told her it was too expensive.  Then she asked the dreaded question…how much was our rent going to be.  You see, I have successfully avoided this question a few times before.  But this time, here I was sitting across the table from her, sharing a meal.  There was no avoiding it.  So, I bit my lip and uttered the words, RMB 50k/month.  Yes, it is an obnoxious amount of money and luckily we don’t pay the monthly bill.  Doug and I always joke that this is the most expensive place we will ever live in.  Our apartment is on the market for something like $10 million USD.  

It is crazy.  And embarrassing. 

She then goes on to tell me about her apartment.  She pays RMB 700/month.  She has no heat, no hot water, and she has pans all over her apartment (which is the size of our living room) to catch the water coming in from the ceiling.  I ask her why her landlord doesn’t fix it.  She says he doesn’t have to.  She says that she has tried to move to a better place, but everything better is around RMB2,000/month, two thirds of her monthly salary.  So, she stays.  Not because she wants to, but because it is the best she can afford.  She explains that is why she showers here; it is just incredibly cold at her apartment.

I continue to listen and stare down at my lunch, thinking about what our life would be like if that was how we lived.  And honestly, I can’t.  

A few hours later, walking to school with a $10 pumpkin pie in tow for Sophia’s class to try, I can’t stop thinking about my earlier conversation.  I pass people on the corners with little signs, advertising their skills, hoping for a day’s work.  Tucked away behind the storefronts are tiny apartments with their windows  open, laundry drying on the electric poles outside.  A shiny black hummer pulls up beside me, stops in the middle of the road and a presumably wealthy Chinese man jumps out and walks into a local restaurant.  The hummer just sits there waiting, traffic piling up behind it.  

The disparity of wealth in this country is astounding.  Perhaps it isn’t more than other countries, but it is so much more obvious here.  On every block, there are million dollar apartments surrounded by ones that might not make it through the winter.  There are people carrying $5000 handbags walking next to those carrying the fake $5 version.  There are electric scooters showing more duck tape than paint sitting at the stop light next to a bright orange Lamborghini.  

This is the thing I struggle with the most living here.  For me, right or wrong, it translates into guilt, something  that I carry around every day knowing what I have and what so many do not.  And it’s especially hard with those whose lives are intertwined so closely with ours.  And what is more insane is that we live a modest life compared to many of the Chinese here.  I struggle with how I can help, how I can make a difference.  But the sheer number of people here and the extreme inequality makes it feel impossible. 

This Thanksgiving, my list of what I am thankful for is different than most past years.  Yes, I am thankful for my family and friends, my children and loving husband.  But this year I feel especially grateful for having my basic needs in life met.  I am thankful that my children are warm when they fall asleep.  I am thankful that my house is dry and that I don’t have to wake up in the morning wondering if the buckets overflowed with water last night while I slept.  I am thankful that my family has food on the table every night and never even flirts with true hunger. 

And oddly enough, I am thankful for my feelings of guilt, as they are my daily reminder of how much I have and how much others don’t.  And hopefully that feeling keeps me grounded and doesn’t let me fall into feeling complacent.

Happy Thanksgiving.