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.
