http://www.latimes.com/news/nation/20010304/t000019221.html
17 Women
Are Key Link in Shanghai's Outdated Sewage System
China: As huge city prepares to update its
sanitation, wooden boats continue to do some of the dirty work.
SHANGHAI
The government would rather
you never ask. They hope you never stray beyond Shanghai's impressive
landmarks. Or stumble across the small detachment of women in the gutter of the
city, still performing backbreaking labor in a landscape completely at odds
with the popular image of modern Shanghai.
A $2-million project is in
the works to make sure that no one else will catch sight of these 17 women and
their seven antiquated boats.
They are the last of their
kind. Their job is to transport human waste. Their methods are no fancier than
that of water buffalo plowing rice paddies.
When
it comes to sewage treatment, much of the city of 14 million has been living in
the pre-industrial age. Every day, about 19,000 tons of trash and 4,700 tons of
feces still travel to processing stations and landfills by boat, via the
region's Venice-like creeks and canals.
In the last few years,
Shanghai has invested in larger, mechanized vessels and covered up the cargo
with blue tarps. The waste they haul is now virtually undetectable to
pedestrians who frequently spot the boats from Shanghai's fabled waterfront,
along the Huanpu River.
Officials had forgotten
about the old boats still inching along Shanghai's backwaters, far away from
the tourists' gaze--until early this year, when the local press found out about
the women. Since then, city officials have been doing their best to deflect
more negative publicity.
"These boats are
bad for our image; their disappearance will be sped up," said Zhao Jin, an
official with the city's waste disposal agency.
The waters, offshoots
of the notoriously polluted Suzhou Creek, cut through Shanghai like a permanent
oil spill. A recent cleanup effort has helped, but the smaller tributaries are
still choked with debris. Parts of them are so shallow that motorized vessels,
and at times simple rowboats, cannot float.
To reach their
destination, the women plunge homemade bamboo poles into the creek bottom,
using the full weight of their bodies to move the wooden vessels a few feet at
a time. The process is so slow that, where possible, the women jump to shore
and drag the boats with nylon ropes tied around their backs.
The new sanitation
system, which will pump sewage directly into processing plants, is expected to
start operation in June.
Until then, the women
continue to work, knowing that, like the cityscape around them, their way of
life is changing.
"We work hard for
our money. We don't steal and we don't cheat. Why should we be ashamed of what
we do?" said Xu Gendi, 44, as she prepares for the long day ahead.
Every morning at 4
o'clock, 70 tons of the city's waste arrives from nearby neighborhoods on
trucks; by 7, the boats are loaded, with the women using yellow construction
hats tied to bamboo sticks to evenly distribute the cargo and balance the
boats. Then they push off, the early sun shining pink on their wind-whipped
cheeks.
All the women are
natives of Shanghai. They were born on boats and raised by parents who sailed
the waterways like their parents before them, first as fishermen, then as
sanitation workers. The water was once relatively clean and plentiful. All
along the shores, crops grew in fields of green, readily absorbing urban
excrement as organic fertilizer.
As Shanghai plunged
into a growth frenzy, farmland vanished and with it the traditional waste
destinations. Factories went up. Industrial and residential waste tumbled into
the water. Parts of the streams shrunk to just 10 feet wide and a few feet
deep.
Some days the water is
so shallow the boats scrape bottom and cannot move at all. Other days, the
water is too high. The only way to get past a web of low bridges is by filling
the cabin with slimy river water.
"We are the
antithesis of a spoiled Shanghai lady," says Xu Chunhua, 44, her body
leaning at a steep angle as she walks along the shore dragging her boat through
the water. "We work like this in the rain, in the wind and 100-degree
heat."
Coming upon a steep
incline, all the women leap to a bridge to help pull the boats from the top of
the bridge, one by one. The rope cuts into their wet rubber gloves. It snaps.
The women fall. Laughter breaks out.
Women traditionally
held this job because it was considered easy. Today it is tough, even for men. The
journey has grown to about 18 miles round trip and lasts anywhere from seven to
15 hours, depending on the conditions.
The women make about
$150 a month, a decent sum that earns them rare displays of affection from
their husbands.
Three times a week, Xu
Gendi's spouse, Wang Sanbao, waits for his wife by one of the stone bridges on
his way home from a graveyard shift as a security guard. When her boat passes
beneath it, Wang hops in and offers his wife a break.
"I can tell how
good their relationship is going based on who comes to help," says Xu
Fusheng, the women's supervisor and the only man on the team.
Within minutes of push
and pull, Wang's slightly balding head is shimmering with sweat. His black
leather shoes are the only reminder of his onshore identity.
"Nobody works
harder," said Zhang Yuxi, husband of Wang Lanying, who has traveled the
same route 26 years. "See their rubber shoes? They can go through them in
three months. Socks, once a week. Their shoulders are thick with calluses. Nobody
sees that but us."
The more Shanghai
changes, the harder their job seems to get. As old factories come down and new
apartments shoot up, the water the women travel on just gets slushier. Some of
the construction crews simply shovel everything, including dirt, into the
waterways.
"We can never
afford to live there," said Guo Changfeng, 45, pushing her boat past a
sprawling residential complex with salmon-colored bricks and white balconies. For
now, the building remains unoccupied. No one wants to live next to the reeking
creek.
After a six-hour
journey, the boats arrive at the pumping station, and the women begin making
fires to heat their lunches. Within minutes, steam is rising from metal lunch
boxes full of rice smeared with sausage, shrimp, spinach or sardines.
But only they can smell
or taste the food. Just a few feet away, nozzles are slurping up their cargo
like elephant trunks. Rats scurry about the avalanche of trash. One of them
snatches a roast duck's head.
"We don't smell
anything but the food because the emperor has blessed us and only us," Guo
said. All the sisters laugh and plow more food into their mouths, refueling for
the ride home.
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