Building Dreams, Bearing Scars (Afterword: Q&A)

May 25th, 2025:

Uncle He (second from the left) and I (third from the left), at Futian Disability Center's reception area

Q&A: A Conversation with Uncle He

Q: Could you tell me about your hometown?

A: I’m from rural Henan. I grew up in a small village, where most villagers were farmers.

Q: What was your childhood like in Henan?

A: My family is small in comparison with others. I have two siblings: an older brother and a younger sister. At an early age, we helped with farm work, plowing fields, planting rice seedlings after our parents. The hardest times barely passed when I was born in 1973. Many starved to death merely a few years ago. My brother is less fortunate in that he was born earlier. When he was little, they didn’t even have proper congee for dinner; they filled their bellies by boiling rice hulls, a little bit of rice, sweet potatoes, and wild plants they foraged in a big pot, and drank it. Even nowadays, my brother still gets sick at the smell of sweet potatoes. He can’t understand those vendors selling roasted potatoes on the streets. When I was born, things were a bit better, though rainfall still determined whether we’d starve or not.

Q: How did you decide to come to Shenzhen?

A: Well, that was back in the late 80s and 90s. Village life was harsh; nobody wanted to starve, you know, so young men headed for the cities for work in all directions. Those who made fortunes returned at Spring Festivals to show off, driving their new cars, wearing new leather shoes and new clothing, and so on. Some built houses and married wives—衣锦还乡(literally meaning: returning to one’s hometown in silken robes; often used to describe a successful hometown returnee who’ve made fortunes somewhere else). It’s like they started a new, wholly different life. I wanted to be one of them. And I picked Shenzhen for what I heard was the highest pay nationally. I heard it’s hot, that some parts of it were still dangerous, underdeveloped wilderness with a bunch of criminals, and that work there was exhausting, demanding. I thought that’s an opportunity for me to persevere and build prosperity from nothing.

Q: What were your first jobs in Shenzhen?

A: I started, if my memory’s correct, in a small electronics factory in Shekou. I did all sorts of work over the years, like trimming plastic housings for telephones, tightening screws on calculator cases, and so on, so I honestly don’t remember exactly what I did first. Sometimes I could only guess what the final product is because I never got to see them.

Q: How did working there compare with your initial impression about working in Shenzhen? Did it turn out demanding but well-paying?

A: Well, fairly so. Young people like to make things dramatic, so my experience working at Shenzhen started with some excitement. Back then I earned a few hundred RMB a month, quite a huge fortune compared to home, and even to other towns and cities. In terms of work, there were a bunch of choices, more than I can handle.

Q: How did you end up moving between different workplaces?

A: I followed those who’ve worked for longer at Shenzhen. Working at factories, I naturally got to know a lot of people, Henan fellows included. We had lunch and dinner together, went to cybercafe, etc., and sometimes we shared new job opportunities. I moved for higher wage rates or longer overtime, both meaning more pay in the end. I worked at an electronics hardware factory in Longgang for a while, tightening metal bolts. I’ve worked at many places in Shenzhen, at least ten different factories. I did circuit assembly, packaging, thread trimming, all sorts of stuff. Hopping through jobs so frequently, it was difficult for me to develop and keep a skill.

Q: You spent nearly two decades in factories before moving to construction sites. How did your life change in this process?

A: Factory work was more planned, rigid, stable in a sense. Most eletronics factories had 12 hour shifts, I worked on fixed assembly lines with fixed schedules, completing the same task day to day, supervisors watching me now and then. Depending on the factory and the line manager, I got fined for violating workplace rules—some of them quite unreasonably stringent. But in most cases if I don’t switch jobs voluntarily and make no troubles, they’d allow me to work on the same spot for years. Construction work was a lot more unstable. I asked around for [sub]constractors who were looking for workers, worked on a site for a few months until the part I participated in was done, then looked for new construction projects to work on. Pay was counted daily, for example, I got a bit less than 200 a day doing woodwork, though when the [sub]contractor handed me the money depended. Some waited till end of each month to hand out the wage. Some weekly. Some withheld wages forever. There was no formal overtime, just unspoken rules and commands. The physical toll was greater as well: carrying bricks, mixing concrete, placing and assembling wood boards, etc. And all that was done under open sky. Summertimes were especially harsh in Shenzhen, rain and blistering heat alternating. But I had no other choice. I was getting old, and I didn’t have any skills. No factories wanted me.

Q: Were there any sort of safety training or protective gear on the construction sites?

A: For sure, we had training. The rules got stricter over the years, eventually to the point where supervisors checked if we memorized the safety protocals. We got fined if we can’t recite the protocals plus the safety slogans. We were given helmets and gloves, and were required to wear them at all times. But whether the safety training and gears were effective was another thing. Many didn’t follow safety rules, and the quality of helmets and gloves were very poor, not protective at all. Helmets felt like ovens in summer. All the site managers just prioritized speed. They risked losing contracts if too many accidents happened, or if too many rule violations were reported on the construction site, so they rarely documented minor injuries.

Q: In reality, how common were injuries on construction sites?

A: Nobody really knows how many minor injuries there were. Stuff like getting one’s leg scratched, foot twisted, or hit on the back by small rocks was common. But rarely were these incidents documented. If I ever reported this type of “injuries” to the supervisors, they’d laugh at me, if not outright fire me. But a few serious injuries happen now and then, like mine.

Q: How did you get injured?

A: I was pushing a wheelbarrow full of bricks. At that time it was raining lightly, though it had been raining for days. Drainage was poor, and the entire construction site was slippery and muddy, with broken tiles, rock pieces, and small puddles here and there. The wheel caught on a sharp fragment, and the old barrow flipped. A few bricks tumbled onto my left leg. It all happened too quickly. I felt the weight and a sharp pain. My leg looked terrible, covered in a brownish red mixture of blood and mud water, bending in the wrong direction. I didn’t dare to look longer. Then I was brought to a hospital in Longhua. The doctor said my leg was crushed and infected, that there’s a possibility for me to keep my leg, though that’d risk serious infection and require some very complicated treatment and long-term recovery. Even then I might not be able to command my left leg, they said. I told them I don’t have money for all the treatments. So they decided to amputate my leg to save my life.

Q: What went through your mind when you were told that?

A: It didn’t feel exactly real. All of a sudden, all these dramatic events happened one after the other. I got injured, then transported to hospital, then the MRI and the doctors, then amputation…I felt disbelief even though I knew it was real. ‘I’m done. It’s all over,’ that thought repeated in my head many times. At that time, I felt that losing a leg meant I’d lose forever my ability to make money, to jump or walk or even stand. In my planning, I was going to return to Henan in just a few years, earning as much as I can in this period. Then this happened out of nowhere…But I didn’t really have that much time to think. The hospital was noisy, and the doctor was very busy. I was told to call a family member and sign a consent form. 

Q: But now you could walk and push your own wheelchair. Tell me about what happened in between, your rehabilitation process and what came after.

A: The hospital gave me a very basic, heavy prosthetic, mostly steel and plastic. The socket felt like plastic too. I went to crowded physical therapy sessions in the hospital, practicing myself to shift weight from crutch to prosthetics. Falling was normal, and the stump itched, sometimes swelled and ached. But I was able to walk a bit, though not very steadily. This [Disability Service] Center also hosts some physical therapy events, and I’ve been to one or two of them. At home, I practiced in my small rented room, sometimes bumping into furniture and doorframes. For a while I wasn’t ready to leave my rented apartment. A part of that was due to physical inconvenience, but more so mental: I was too ashamed. There was nothing stopping me from staying indoors either: I had no job anymore, and I ordered cheap takeouts all day. I’d message the courier to not knock on my door and wait for me to take my meal, and instead place my food on the door knob and leave. I moved slowly, and I didn’t want them to waste time waiting or see me struggling to walk. That month or two, life was slowing down, almost ending.

Q: Over that period, how did you sustain yourself financially? Your savings? Or injury compensation?

A: I spent from my savings. I spent quite a bit of time trying to figure out how to get my work-related injury compensation. I searched on Baidu, I called my family members, I messaged the [sub]contractor I worked for when I got injured. Most of the records were kept by him [the subcontractor], but he never replied after leaving a few words. I tried to follow the online tutorials, but none of them worked. I even went to a few government offices in person, which was very inconvenient for me.

Q: When you finally received compensation, how did you feel?

A: Mostly relief, along with gratitude and some joy. For me, the compensation offered security and some level of financial independence. I’m really grateful for the [Disability Service] Center’s help. At the same time, it was also somewhat ironic and frustrating: after all these years of work and out of all routes to prosperity, I ended up ‘making fortunes’ through this accident.

Before the accident, I still hoped to earn enough to buy an apartment in Henan before my legal retirement age; or, worst case scenario, if my savings turned out insufficient, I could continue working for a few years after age 60. I could buy a fake ID card and tell the boss that I haven’t reached 60 yet. They don’t care about your actual age so long as you have the documents that could spare them the responsibility when authorities come for inspections. Well, this accident forced me to retire, and ironically handed me the money for buying an apartment. My mother contributed a bit of her savings too.

Q: You and your mother, using mostly your savings, bought an apartment in town. Why was the deed held by your brother?

A: My mother went through the physical process of buying the apartment mostly on her own: meeting property agents, touring apartments in person, filling in paperwork, and so on. My sister stayed in Henan and helped her with it. The ownership certificate had my mother’s name on it, but due to my mother’s poor health, she had to hand the ownership certificate to someone. Already married, my sister lived in a different town with her husband. And I’m disabled. So the certificate went to my elder brother, who promised to keep it safe. My mother said she’d transfer ownership to me once I regained stability. My brother agreed back then, but it’s been impossible to get the documents from him ever since.

Q: What reasons did he cite to keep the documents?

A: He doesn’t think disabled people can hold onto property. He doesn’t trust me, deems me too vulnerable. He told my mother and me stories of caregivers marrying rich, disabled men, then divorced them to claim half of their property. I promised him time and again that I won’t marry for the rest of my life, but he kept on saying promises don’t matter because when I get old, I can’t reason rationally any more. He’s also heard stories of disabled people handing parts of their wealth to caregivers in their will, as rewards for their diligent work. ‘Who knows what your caregiver can trick you into doing? Not even god can tell,’ he always repeats these questions. I think he treats me like a child. What could be safer than having me protect what is mine?

Q: I sat right beside you today when the Legal Consultation Office gave their advice. What are your thoughts on the advice?

A: Well, they told me there’re two paths only: my mother has to issue a notarized will specifying me as heir of the apartment, or she makes a notarized statement declaring her intention to transfer ownership to me. I heard the same thing six times on the phone already. I thought the medical records and my mother’s note would help, at least a bit. But they said unless I sue my brother, they’re of no use at all. And even if I did sue, the case is barely in my favor, not to mention the money and time it’ll take. It’s hard for her to travel and handle paperwork on her own, and I can’t really help either, myself a disabled man past middle age, living over a thousand kilometers away. I know you and the lawyers discussed trusts briefly, but they said their services are expensive and rare. And the trusts are private, run by businessmen. The profits they ripped as middlemen literally made them rich and sustained entire companies; they don’t even have to do anything other than transferring the property of others—they don’t even own the property themselves! Who knows what these big businesses will do to our apartment? What if they sell it for money on their own? Will I have to sue them singlehandedly to get my property back?

Q: If it’s getting to the point where you won’t get your apartment without suing your brother or a trust institution, wouldn’t it be marginally better to try the other options? Perhaps during the Spring Festival, you could return to Henan with your migrant worker friends at Shenzhen, and get notarization done while reuniting with your extended family?

A: Well, I’ll be honest with you. I think my mother might be siding with my brother, or at least leaning towards him. My brother’s married and has a son, my mother’s favorite. For her, whether the grandson is from her son’s or her daughter’s family really mattered. My sister gave birth to a son and a daughter, and her family lives way closer to my mother. But she and her children don’t get half of the attention from my mother. My brother’s never saved enough for a home, and my mother promised she’d help him however she can. Now that I’m disabled and told everyone I won’t marry, she might not be willing to hand me the apartment any more. Still, I contributed the most, so she lacks good reasons for denying me ownership. She’s made promises to me, but if I actually went back to Henan in person for the notarization, I’m not sure if she’ll hand over ownership.

Q: Aside from that property, what are your personal plans now?

A: I’m receiving some allowance monthly. In addition to that, I want to find light work that I can handle. Perhaps carpentry or shoe repair, stuff that doesn't involve legs. Someday I’ll return to Henan and spend the rest of my life there, and those would make good skills because I could use them to build a small workshop, even to train young fellows. There’s a store in this [Disability Service] Center that exclusively sells artworks and ornaments handmade by disabled people, and I’ve been working on a few items for that. 

Q: What advice would you give to others facing challenges you’ve confronted?

A: For other migrant workers, especially if you don’t work for a factory or some other reliable company with clear records, keep records yourself. Organize your contracts, attendance logs, photos of where you work, etc. If you ever get injured, keep record, don’t panic, and seek legal aid early. The Disability Service Center could help if you become disabled, but it’s usually more convenient to first contact social workers in your community. Each Community Service Center has a social worker dedicated to helping the disabled, and he could orient you before you visit the Disability Center in person. Some of the services here require prior appointment, and the community social worker can help with that as well. But nobody can rely on the help of others forever, especially financially. Save what and when you can. Trust your family members but get it in writing. 亲兄弟明算账 (literally meaning: keep clear accounts even with one’s brothers; usually applied to siblings with financial transactions/deals to indicate that “even reckoning makes long friends”). And importantly, never lose hope. Even without a leg, I still found ways to keep going.