A Factory Worker's Memoir

On Thursday Drew's class visited a local industrial park, including several factories. 

Guess what mystery food the workers are packaging!

oh just dried fruit

oh just... preserved chicken feet

Drew's photos of the factory reminded me of two things. 


#1
My friend D.L. who is the same age as me, and has a son the same age as Titus. I met her while she and her sister were working seven days a week in her aunt's bakery adjacent to our former apartment. Both chose not to finish high school (what's the point) so they could earn money. D.L's son is back in their hometown with grandma, D.L.'s hubby is working in a southern city.


Anyway, this summer D.L. quit the bakery, leaving her little sis, and took a factory job in Guangzhou. The night-shift pay is a little better, and the night life is way better, but she'll see her son even less. Sadly, there are many migrant worker moms like D.L. It always breaks my heart, causes me to admire their ability to 'eat bitterness' and make sacrifices for their families, and reminds me stop complaining and be thankful.

my pal D.L.

#2
Reminds me of my of my own factory experience! 
I shall call it ---- A Factory Worker's Memoir


My second year of college I had a five-week Christmas break, so I spent five weeks working the night shift on an assembly line. We made tiny tin-foil-like parts for computers. We were in a very bright clean room, everybody in white smocks, hairnets, gloves, face masks. Everything was white. There was even white noise. We were all robots, completing the same 1:23 second process for a lovely 12-hour shift. The only thing that made it bearable for me was the knowledge that this was just five weeks. And...the beautiful people!!! The cynical ex-trucker, the goofy-immature single dad, the rough but nurturing granny who'd had at least four husbands, the too-cool latino guy, the nervous Somali, the gentle-reflective Somali, and the wacky-happy Somali. And me the college girl. A hilarious mix!!!


Actually, since I particularly love Muslims, the Somalis became my friends and came over to my parent's house for chicken soup once. Then I went back to Georgia for college. The wacky-happy Somali called me sometimes and always told me "One day, I'm SURE, you'll become a Muslim." hehe. Drew and I invited those guys to our wedding, but they didn't show. 

While searching for that pic with the Somali guys I also came across these. Somewhere in that five week Christmas break I took Drew skiing. It was his first time. He was not good.

endure hardship:
吃苦 
chī kǔ
But this literally means to eat bitterness, something for which Chinese have an extraordinary ability.