Poetry provides ‘shelter from all troubles’
Print Edition
BAN Meiqian, 31, a migrant worker from Henan Province, never expected to make her mark in Shanghai by writing poems.
Yet, there she was, sitting at the Shanghai Book Fair, signing volumes of her newly published book of verse entitled “Fragrance From the Countryside.”
“I write poems as a way of expressing myself,” she explained. “I feel I have something to say to the world. Writing lightens and enriches my life.”
Like many of the millions of migrant workers who have swarmed to Shanghai looking for the golden life, Ban said she found herself struggling in a heartless, concrete jungle when she first came to the city seven years ago.
She took any job she could find, working as a waitress, construction worker, garbage recycler and security guard. Today she works 12-hour shifts on a production line in a factory in Songjiang.
“Believe it or not,” she said brightly, “I love my job. It’s tiring, but I don’t have to deal with people, which is good. I’m not a sociable person. I prefer books.”
In fact, Ban enjoys being a stay-at-home. She has ventured into downtown Shanghai only twice in the last seven years — once to receive an award as a “migrant worker poet” and once to sign books at the book fair.
“They reduce my pay if I don’t show up for work,” she said, with a timid smile, “so I really don’t have much time to go anywhere.”
Ban’s husband is a truck driver. They live in a shabby bungalow in Nanmen Village in Chedun Town, paying rent of 500 yuan (US$79) a month. A broken window is mended with newspaper; the wardrobe in the home is falling apart. The only thing of value is a second-hand computer, where Ban spends two hours a night writing poetry.
“I go to work at 8am and return home at 9pm,” she said, “so midnight is my only writing time. Life is hard and lonely. Writing is my getaway from reality and the only place where I can unburden my feelings.”
Born into a poor family of three daughters and one son in a rural village, Ban finished primary school when she was 12. She was the best student in her county, but that didn’t cut mustard with her mother, who rejected Ban’s desire for further study in favor of saving the money to send the only son to school.
Ban worked on the family farm, seething with contempt for her mother. That partly explains why her mother is seldom mentioned in her poetry.
“All my memories of my hometown are about my father, who taught me how to read and write,” she recalled.
Three years ago, Ban was browsing in a corner bookstore and was touched by the soft lines of verse on postcard.
“When I back home that day, I tried to write a few words on my mobile phone,” she said.
The effect was dramatic. The urge to write came pouring out. No one had ever taught Ban how to write a poem. She simply wrote from her heart. For a long time, she was too embarrassed to admit she was writing verse.
“Every night after work, I would spend some time in that bookstore reading,” Ban said.
Later she bought a second-hand computer and taught herself how to surf the Internet. She registered on a social networking site and posted her poems there. Some netizens left positive reviews and even gave her writing advice.
Ban began to take her writing more seriously. She bought poetry collections and tried to imitate the styles of famous poets.
Since 2012, she has written almost 700 poems, some about her childhood memories of the countryside, some about the hard life of a migrant in the city and some about her future dreams.
She wrote of her deep attachment to the soil and to the peaceful environment of her hometown, contrasting that with the hard, cold struggle of surviving in a big city.
In the poem Yes, We’re All Migrant Workers, she wrote: “Grandpa and grandma are the first words our kids learn to say/They don’t know mother and father/who are away, fighting in a strange city.”
In the poem About Soul, she wrote: “Poets were talking about soul on WeChat at midnight/I was fixing springs in the workshop/I checked my phone and then my springs from time to time/My heart sprang with the springs/I was scared that I was a person without soul.”
In the poem Father Goes Downtown, Ban wrote: “My father was going to visit me/He phoned he would bring me garlic, soybeans and my favorite fennel/As well as a pair of homespun shoes/I said/Dad, don’t bother/You can buy whatever you want in Shanghai/He asked/Darling, can you buy a dad there?”
As she kept posting her poems on the Internet, Ban found herself part of a community. With the help of cyber space, she was introduced to a poet in Jiuting Town, who later recommended her to a local poets’ group and to the Songjiang Literature Association.
“I’ve learnt a lot from them and they treat me like family,” she said. “They don’t treat me differently because of my job.”
After her first work of poems was published, Ban called home to share the news with her parents. Her mother was silent for a long time on the phone and then said, “I should have supported you in your wish to finish school.”
Though she has become something of a celebrity, Ban said her daily life hasn’t changed all that much. She is still working hard and writing daily.
“I write because it gives me shelter from all my troubles,” she said. “Yet I love this city and will try to establish my roots here.”
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