民工分离撕裂中国家庭－一个绝望的村庄（在线收听）

A Desperate Village

一个绝望的村庄

The students in Shan's fourth grade class rose in unison as the teacher, Du Nengwei, tapped his pointer against his desk to start the lesson.

四年级的老师杜能卫将教鞭轻轻拍打了一下桌子，宣布了上课开始，珊珊和她的同学们便整齐的起立。

 
"Hello, teacher!" the children shouted dutifully in early December as Mr. Du, his eyes magnified through thick glasses, signaled for everyone to sit down. The children began shouting out memorization drills, and the sounds of rote drilling rose out of other classrooms, as noisy as squawking birds.

“老师好！”孩子们认真的叫道。杜老师用那透过厚厚镜片的眼睛示意同学们坐下。孩子们开始背诵课文，背诵的声音贯穿了课堂，像是鸟儿嘈杂的叫声。

The village school, the focus of so much hope, is little changed from a century ago. The dirty, whitewashed building is made of mud brick and concrete. Shan's classroom has no heat or electricity. Light comes from two small windows.

虽然是农村孩子们的希望，但这乡村学校在一个世纪以来却没有多大改变。教室是泥砖和水泥砌成的，里面没有暖也没有电，照明则全靠两扇小小的窗户。

Mr. Du said 8 of his 14 students had at least one parent who is a migrant worker. He knows that parents leave in order to pay tuition, about $50 a year for families that often live on less than $300 a year. School, even this school, is their only chance, he said.

杜老师说，他的14个学生中，有8个孩子都有父母进城务工。他知道农民们打工赚钱也是为了给孩子们挣学费，虽然家庭收入还不足2500元，一年的学费却需要400元。而学校（即使是这样的学校），也是农民子弟们的唯一希望。

"Some say they want to be a driver, a scientist or a teacher," Mr. Du said. "But nobody wants to go on being a farmer." Of Shan, he said, "she studies very hard and does well."

“同学们说想当司机、科学家或者教师，”杜老师说。“但没有人还想做农民。”至于珊珊，他说：“她学习很努力，也很不错。”

 
She usually ranks second or third in the class. At home, she studies as much as three hours a day. She said she wanted to advance to middle school, then high school, even college.

她一般在班里拿第二第三。每天回家后，她都要学习三个小时左右。她说自己想继续读初中、高中、甚至大学。

"The more schooling I have, the more knowledge I have," she said.

“读的书越多，懂的知识就越多，”珊珊说。

Her home is a mud-walled communal house built more than a century ago during the Qing Dynasty. Her grandparents sleep in one section, her aunt and younger cousin in another. Shan sleeps alone in two unheated rooms converted from a small barn. Her room is above the pen with the family's three pigs. Her parent's empty room is over the open pit that is the communal toilet.

珊珊的家是清朝时建的老房子，她的爷爷奶奶睡一间，婶婶和堂弟们睡另一间。珊珊独自睡在两间从畜圈改过来的房子里。她的房间在三头猪的猪圈上面，她爸妈的空房间则在家里的厕所上面。

"I'm not scared," she said. She has painted her colorless wooden shutter with the Chinese characters for "wealth" and "prosperity."

“我不怕，”她说道。她在自己房间的木窗上写慢了中文汉字“财富”，“繁荣。”

 
Her grandfather, Yang Xianglin, 72, said his three sons each contributed $150 a year to support the family. Two of the three are migrant workers; the third just returned home from a migrant job. But the money is not enough, so the grandfather must borrow from other relatives.

珊珊的爷爷，72岁的杨祥林说自己的三个儿子每年给家里贴1200元。三个儿子中，两个都在外务工，剩下一个也是刚刚回来；但尽管如此，钱还总是不够，爷爷不得不向亲戚们去借钱。

Shan knows she is poor, but does not seem to feel poverty's sharp sting. Asked if she has any toys, she brightened and showed off two tiny plastic figurines and a single silk flower. Her parents cannot afford more, though her mother stitched her a pink sweater.

珊珊知道家里穷，但年纪还不大的她却并不以此为苦。记者问她有没有什么玩具，她立刻欢喜起来地拿出两个塑料小人和一朵绸做的小花。此外妈妈还给她织过一件红毛衣，超出这些的父母就负担不起了。

"She misses them always," her grandfather said. "She keeps asking, when will her parents come home?"

“珊珊老想他们，”爷爷说。“她总是问，爸爸妈妈什么时候回来呀？”

Nearly every family in Shuanghu has had someone leave. Local wages are as low as $1 a day; a migrant can make $5 or more. A few fortunate families have built concrete homes with migrant money.

在双湖，几乎每个家里都有人外出务工。本地的工资一天只有8元钱，而一个农民工每天能挣40元。少数幸运的家庭靠着打工带回的钱已经盖起了新房。

"We have more freedom now than when we had a communal life," said Lei Jinchen, 53, a neighbor whose two sons work at the same factory as Shan's mother. "We can now go out and find work. But we only have enough to feed ourselves. That's it."

53岁的雷金辰说：“比起以前农民公社时期，现在自由多了，至少能出去打工。不过也仅仅能养活自己而已。”雷金辰是珊珊家的邻居，他有两个儿子也在珊珊妈妈的工厂工作。

 Central government leaders often boast of new programs to benefit China's poorest villages. One national program called for farmers to hand over land for reforestation in exchange for annual payments. In 2002, Shan's grandfather surrendered two-thirds of an acre for promised payments of $65 a year. As yet, he and other farmers have received nothing.

中央的领导们常常自夸扶助贫困地区的新政策。有个“退耕还林”的国家政策，许诺只要农民退还土地造林，就能每年给以补助。2002年，珊珊的爷爷退了四亩地，想着每年能拿540元补助。可至今为止，他也其他的退地农民一分也没有拿到。

Shuanghu was also designated for special antipoverty assistance, and about 50 families - including the Yangs - were named poverty households eligible to divide a $2,500 annual fund, or about $50 per family. But again, the Yangs and others have gotten nothing.

双湖还有上面特派的扶贫专款，大约有50户人家（包括杨家）每年该收到扶贫款20000元，平均每家每年400元。但是他们的希望又一次落空。

"Not many benefits get down to us," Mr. Lei said. "Local governments skim most of the money off."

“没有多少钱能到我们头上，”雷金辰说，“地方政府把大头都拿走了。”

So what remains is migrant work for the young and farming for the old. The mountainous landscape is impressive, but only narrow strips of land can be used for farming. In early December, Shan left for school one morning, and her grandparents walked up a rocky hillside toward their small plot.

所以剩下的办法只有让年轻人出去打工，老年人留家种田了。山区的景色是挺不错，但是能用作耕种的地却很有限。12月初的一天，珊珊去上学了，爷爷奶奶则走到一块充满碎石的坡地，开始他们的耕种。

The frost had lifted, and the grandmother, Hu Yangui, 65, squatted in the dirt and pulled turnips. She takes medicine for stomach ailments and arthritis, and the work tires her. She would let the turnips dry in the sun until afternoon, then feed them to the pigs beneath Shan's bedroom.

 
珊珊的奶奶，65的胡艳桂，有胃病和关节炎，需要吃药。在霜散尽的地里，奶奶正蹲在地上拔萝卜，拔出的萝卜要在先太阳底下晒干，然后喂给家里的猪吃。

The grandfather grabbed a large bale of corn stalks to use as bedding for the pigs and loaded it onto his back. His arthritis sometimes keeps him from sleeping, but he said the corn was not heavy. In a lower field, a child's voice echoed against the hillsides. It was Shan's cousin, Yang Qinlin, 4. Her own father works several hours away, and she goes months without seeing him.

爷爷抓起一大捆玉米秆，把他们负到背上，这些铺猪圈用的。虽然爷爷的关节炎很重，常常让他无法入睡；但爷爷说，玉米秆不重。山下，一个孩子的声音传到了山坡上。这是珊珊的表妹，4岁的杨琴琳，虽然她爸爸在不远的城镇打工，但她也已经几个月没见爸爸了。

She was singing a melancholy poem about missing home that is memorized by schoolchildren across China:

Looking up, I find the moon bright;

Bowing down, in homesickness I'm drowned.

她在朗诵一首描述思乡之情的古诗，这是一首中国孩子们都耳熟能详的诗：

举头望明月；低头思故乡。