DONGGUAN, China -- Yao Bo's long fingers skillfully pulled the needle through the pink leather strap, each stitch attaching one small, shiny, silver sequin, until 46 sequins formed an even line. Yao made sure this strap would be the most eye-catching part of the sandal to be worn by an elegant woman in Tokyo or Hong Kong this summer.

Working on the second floor of the shoe factory, 27-year-old Yao sits above the hustle and bustle of the street in Dongguan, one of the most concentrated industrial towns in southern China's Guangdong province.

While he sewed, Yao chatted with 18-year old Lu Liling, who sat across from him gluing the straps before handing them to Yao. She has a sensitive face, a shy and quiet demeanor. Wearing a maroon shirt and slacks, her long ponytail swung to and fro as she worked. Yao, in a black corduroy jacket, looked more relaxed even though his fingers were busily sewing. They exchanged remarks without raising their eyes from their work.

At the Tat Fat Shoe Factory, Yao and Lu and 200 other workers, mostly young people, make ladies' casual shoes for export to Japan, Singapore, Hong Kong and sometimes to the United States and Europe. They are from various parts of China with different dialects, but here they speak Mandarin to communicate with each other.

One common goal has brought them together, far from their families. The piecework they do every day provides them a livelihood. They all work hard and send the money they save back home.

Yao and Lu are among millions of migrant workers in China who manufacture products for export. Products made in China such as apparel, luggage and electric appliances are made by these hands.

The value of China's export commodities reached $266 billion in 2001, of which 90 percent were industrial manufactured products.

But these numbers mean very little to workers like Yao. They have no idea who pays how much or who wears the shoes they so carefully make.

Working on the second floor of a shoe factory, 27-year old Yao sits above the hustle and bustle of the street in Dongguan, one of the most concentrated industrial towns in southern China's Guangdong province.

"I work far away from home with one purpose," said Yao. "I should make as much money as possible when I am still young so that my son can go to college in the future."

Yao's three-year old son is in the care of his parents in his hometown of Chongqing, hundreds of miles from Dongguan. His wife works at the same factory he does. Depending on his production quantity, as a skilled worker Yao makes close to $200 per month on average. His wife makes about half of his earnings by gluing the upper parts of shoes together.

"My wife and I choose not to live in the factory dormitory. We rent one room outside for about 100 yuan ($15)," Yao said in his Sichuan accent. "My boss gives me 75 yuan extra since I don't live and eat at the factory."

Like most other factories in Guangdong, Tat Fat provides free dormitory accommodations, lunch and dinner for all its workers. The morning shift is from 7:30 to 11:30 am. Workers have lunch and take a nap before resuming the afternoon shift from 1:00 to 6:00 pm.

"Meals are two dishes and a soup, of course with rice," Lu said. "The taste of the food is all right, there is enough."

As the factory rushes to finish an order due in Japan for the spring "golden week" of shopping in April, workers labor overtime in the evenings. They are paid by the piece; there is no overtime pay.

Rows of tables divide up the factory floor. Shoe parts are carried from table to table, where some workers cut materials, some shape the shoes to plastic forms, and others assemble the parts together. Quicker hands sometimes help out newcomers.

The workshop is quiet and well lit. A slight chemical odor from the glue permeates the air, diluted by the breeze through open windows.

At meal breaks workers eat in the cafeteria, seated on stools at long tables of bare wood, reminiscent of old-fashioned countryside classrooms. The mixed odors of fragrant rice, stale cabbage and sautéed pork linger in the cafeteria throughout the day.

For Lu, who just finished secondary school, working at the factory is somewhat like going to another school. "There are six bunk beds in our dorm," Lu said. "But we only have seven girls in my room, all from Jiangxi province." She chose her room because the girl who introduced her to the factory lived there. "We talk and make friends with each other."

Lu's three-story dormitory is tucked behind another building for a packaging factory. Relatives of the factory owner live on the first floor and their kids play in the front yard. The back yard is a washroom with 20 shower rooms.

Lu's three-story dormitory is tucked behind another building for a packaging factory. Relatives of the factory owner live on the first floor and their kids play in the front yard. The back yard is a washroom with 20 shower rooms.

"There is hot water, and they can take showers anytime," said Chen Kim Tat, the Singaporean factory owner.

Although there are no walls around the factory, workers seldom go out during the shifts. The continuous demands of the production line and the pressure to finish more pieces for more pay keep them at the grindstone.

"I spend about 200 yuan for clothes and snacks every month," said Lu. She sends the rest of her salary back home for her parents and two younger siblings. "My younger brother asked me how it was to go out and make money. I told him it is not fun and he'd better study hard for
a better future."

Lu wishes she could work less and make more money so she could go to computer classes. "I came from the countryside; there isn't much to stay for." Many girls like her leave their homes to work in factory towns. "But I wish I could learn some skills." She hopes to register for a computer class after the factory's busy season.

"Nobody wants to work like this their whole life," Yao cut in. "I want to accumulate some capital for my own business one day." He has been sending money home for years, and so have his three older sisters. "With that money, my parents bought an apartment and other necessary things like a refrigerator and an air conditioner."

Neither Yao nor Lu regrets leaving home. They see this as the best option among the few choices life has offered them, and feel they are better off than if they had stayed home.

They don't complain about their situation; both have heard worse stories from migrant workers in other factories. They routinely work, eat and sleep, relying on the strength of youth as their only health insurance.

Most workers in Tat Fat are brought to the factory by friends or relatives. "This way, it's easier for the management," said Chen. "Workers are supportive when orders are pressing." This year he asked 130 workers to delay their holidays during the Chinese New Year so he could get an order out on time. "Then we all celebrated with a big banquet."

Yao and Lu are somewhat relieved that their factory has a rather relaxed environment. Everyone eats lunch together, including the factory owner, who was a vegetable farmer in Singapore 10 years ago. He married one of his workers from Lu's hometown.

Lu has a secret hope that something like that will happen to her. It would be wonderful if fate would offer her a better life than returning to her farming village to marry someone and settle down.






Contributed by Yan Tai, UPI Correspondent. Reprinted with permission from United Press International.

To read another Global Envision article about the faces of globalization, see Faces of Globalization: Home Away from Home.