北京城市建设的幕后英雄

2006年12月25日16:42

WSJ

在距离天安门广场大约一英里的地方，一座28层的酒店将在一年多的时间内拔地而起。一群建筑工人的生活和工作就在这个工地上展开。

午夜时分当这座城市陷入沉睡的时候，一些建筑工人却在辛苦地工作。

还有一些工人要在天蒙蒙亮的时候起床。他们每天工作至少15个小时，一周工作七天。当他们精疲力尽倒在双层床上的时候，这个挤了12个人的房间里根本没有暖气。

魏忠文（音）就是其中的一员。他已经当了20多年的建筑工人，他身上的累累伤痕就是最好的证明：一只手没了小拇指，杂乱的头发下掩盖着一个巴掌大的凹陷。在过去的十年中，这位现年41岁的建筑工人参与了北京及其周边省份的高楼大厦、购物中心以及其他很多建筑的建设施工。魏忠文已经有两年没有见到妻子和女儿，由于他所从事的工程要赶在2008年北京奥运会之前完工，他可能今年也无法看到她们了。

 “对我来说，这个工作带来的最大问题就是孤独，”魏忠文吐了一口烟后说道。

魏忠文来自农村。他寄回去的钱已经让家人在家乡盖了五间大屋以及马圈和猪圈，还买了一台21英寸的彩色电视机。魏忠文说，为了女儿上学以及维持家人在农村的生活，他工作辛苦些是值得的。

北京正在经历巨大建筑热潮的洗礼，这也是全世界规模最大的建筑热潮之一。起重机在城市中随处可见。全北京市有10,000多个建筑工地，总建筑面积高达17亿平方英尺。如果这些建筑面积被平铺开来，它的占地将近三个曼哈顿那么大。

这巨大的开发规模离不开一个不怎么引人注目的人群：来自中国各个农村的近200万农民工。他们背着行李卷辗转在各个工地之间，所赚的工时费低至每小时50美分。他们所从事的工作十分危险，但是他们基本没有工作场所防护措施，享有很少或者根本没有医疗保障。很多农民工就住在城市的中心，但普通的北京居民很少瞥一眼他们那些拥挤的临时住房，隐私、清洁、甚至是饭菜中有肉对他们来说都是奢望。

他们的工资经常被迟付，有时甚至根本拿不到工资。中国国务院下属的调查机构今年发表的一份报告显示，在2004年，诸多在北京的建筑公司拖欠了大约70万名农民工超过3.8亿美元的工资。魏忠文说，他正在为一家公司拖欠他的400美元而打官司，这些钱相当于他去年工资的一半。但是他有可能永远都拿不到这些钱。

在这种充满不确定的环境下，农民工通常结伴一起换工作。他们依靠口口相传的信息来探知老板的好坏，从而保护自己。在情况糟糕的时候，他们彼此依靠。

这些男人们──这个行业里基本没有女人──都为赶在2007年12月之前将工程完成而忙碌着。这是所有与奥运会相关的建筑工程必须完工的日期。这样的话，北京这个全球污染最严重的城市之一在奥运会开幕之前将有足够的时间来清理空气中的尘土。

但是，还有大量的工程要完成。奥运会将吸引外国游客蜂拥而至，并将得到媒体史无前例的关注。北京建筑工人的目标之一就是要完成一个地铁系统的一大部分。这个地铁系统完工后预计将拥有世界上最长的地铁线路，甚至要超过伦敦的地下交通系统。另外，他们还要建成一座比伦敦希思罗机场五个航站楼加在一起还大的航站楼，以及约110家酒店。算上北京郊区的建筑工程，这股建筑热潮耗资约1,800亿美元。有人说，这是自修建长城以来，中国最坚巨的建筑工程。

建筑热潮之后这些农民工的去向已经成为备受争议的话题。北京官员已经十分清楚地表示，在奥运会召开前将让他们离开北京。但是，有关部门担心，这么多农民工被迫离开，而他们回乡后很难找到工作，他们可能会成为社会不稳定因素。

事实上，建筑工人在这个城市根本站不住脚。他们没有在北京居留所需的合法文件，大多数没有签订正式的合同，他们依赖于口头承诺而非书面合同。当他们生病的时候，只能去一些非法诊所。因为这里很便宜，但是这些诊所往往卫生条件很差，医生也根本没有行医执照。

魏忠文说到18岁的女儿小薇（音）时特别骄傲。他说小薇学习成绩很好，而且很听话。小薇现在和魏忠文的其他家庭成员一起生活在中国东北的吉林省榆树县。“我们不是很亲近，我也不知道她喜欢什么，”魏忠文说这些话的时候不好意思的摆弄着腰带上的一串 匙。中国中年男人幸福的标志就在腰间这一串 匙上，魏忠文的这一串是他的小小虚荣。他说，这些都是他从街上捡到的。不过，这些 匙开启的都是些他所没有的东西：汽车、公寓。

和其他建筑工人一样，他在城里的生活十分节俭。这份新工作每月让他赚到300美元左右，但是他只留下大约60美元，剩余的都寄给家里的“3861军团”（这是一个用来形容中国内地留守妇女和儿童的新名词，3月8日是妇女节，6月1日是儿童节。）

在中国，建筑工地上的伤亡事故之多仅次于煤矿，据报导，2005年共有2,607人死于建筑事故。专业的工作靴在这里很罕见，中国的建筑工人穿着单薄的帆布鞋爬上爬下，通常不系任何安全绳。他们还要自己去买工作手套。他们的安全帽也只是售价一美元的一层薄薄的塑料壳。

北京市市长王歧山日前在接受采访时表示，他每天都要亲自过目建筑事故的统计数据。“当我读这些报告时我永远都高兴不起来，”他说。“北京离不开这些人。”他还说，北京努力为登记在案的农民工提供诸如医疗保健等服务，但是北京这方面的资源已是捉襟见肘。

和很多其他建筑工人一样，魏忠文进入这个行业主要是因为家里那一小块种植玉米和大豆的农田根本不够他种的。他在17岁那年就离开家前往北京周边的一个省份打工。

20多岁的时候，他左手的小拇指被电锯切断。1994年，他被一根钢筋击中脑部，在医院里住了一个多月。他觉得自己已经很幸运了，因为他的雇主为他支付了所有医疗费。

据他和法庭后来的判决书称，去年，北京通州区一家艺术馆的所有者拖欠了魏忠文和76名同事的工资。他们曾在项目在建过程中获得了一半的薪水，并得到保证说余下部分将在完工后支付。但他们说，一等完工，他们就被手持铁棍和菜刀的暴徒赶离了现场。

中国的国家控股银行向房地产企业发放了大量贷款。许多房地产企业都具有政府背景。轻易获得的廉价资金常常带来了未经深思熟虑的项目，进而很快陷入困境。当资金链断裂后，处于金字塔最底层的建筑工人就无法领到工资。他们发现难以讨回工钱，因为他们常常是由分包商间接雇用的。

魏忠文和他的朋友说，向通州主管部门的上访没有取得结果。约有20名工人感到灰心，回了老家。由于没钱，魏忠文和其余工人被迫在邻近的河北省搭了一个木棚暂时栖身，靠打零工获得的一点收入维持生计。他们说，他们每天吃的基本都是1块钱（13美分）6个的馒头。

在2005年11月，他们中的50多人一大早就动身了。他们步行5个小时，到北京市有关部门上访。他们找到了位于前门西街的北京市法律援助中心。

该中心主任王学法现在还记得魏忠文和他的朋友们跪在办公室地上的情景。他说，看到男人们变得如此很让人难过。

通州区中级人民法院在1月6日做出了有利于工人们的判决，要求香港开发商联卡佛（天津）国际贸易有限公司(Lian Ka Fu International)向工人支付3万多美元的工钱。不过，他们没有见到一分钱。北京市法律援助中心的律师常明传说，联卡佛的负责人王笑菊向法院表示，她没有钱。记者未能联系到王笑菊，她的欧美工艺坊现在已经关闭。

春节是中国最重要的节日，回家过春节也是建筑工人的惯例。每年只有在这个时候他们才能和家人团聚。象凯旋的英雄一样，他们受到热情款待，给人们大谈特谈车满为患的街道和他们建起的高楼大厦。魏忠文说，我的邻居中还有一些人甚至没坐过火车。

回到家里，魏忠文就成了顶梁柱。这些年来，他的工资收入帮助家人过上了不错的生活。熟练的瓦工技术使他的工资高于建筑工人的平均工资。他说，自己在家乡很受尊重。

不过，去年1月，魏忠文没有回家过年，而是呆在河北的陋室中。他和朋友们身无分文，实在无颜见家乡父老。他们到机场附近观看飞机起飞，以此聊以自慰。

魏忠文说，实际上，那是他唯一想到过自杀的一段时期。“我想如果有辆汽车撞到我，至少我能得到些赔偿。”

他的妻子丁桂英（音）在电话中说，她自己要照顾魏忠文年迈的父母、抚养女儿还要干田里的农活，日子过得很艰难。魏忠文的工资现在都要给上中专的女儿交学费，每年大约人民币1万元。如今在中国上学，即使是公立学校也不再免费。

今年42岁的丁桂英希望丈夫能在女儿毕业时回家。她说，“我们长期两地分居，过去19年来，我们在一起的日子屈指可数。”

魏忠文今年的大多数时间都是在河北度过。5月份时，他和朋友们在一处住宅工地找到了工作。魏忠文同其他10个工人住进了木板房中。地面上，砖和土夹杂在一起。仅有的水源来自院子中的一个水池。厕所是用木板草草围成的。在厨房，苍蝇飞来飞去。

按在河北从事这类工作的惯例，魏忠文每天向雇主缴纳约5块钱的饭钱，伙食基本是米饭和豆腐。很少能吃到肉，不过他是素食主义者。从小在贫困的环境中长大，他不喜欢吃肉。

53岁的工友杨新国（音）在一起交通事故中腿部受伤，不得不在9月份放弃了工作。由于对拿回欧美工艺坊的欠薪抱有希望，他继续住了一段时间，终于，他在11月中旬决定回老家。事故前挣的钱所剩无几，魏忠文和其他朋友给了他400元钱。

魏忠文坐在杨新国的床前说，等拿到了钱，我们立刻给你寄回去。他给要离开的朋友递了根烟。杨新国抽着烟，眼睛湿润了。杨新国说，男人不应该哭，但他们都哭过许多次了。11月底，魏忠文和工友们回到了北京。他们找到了更好的活──建设28层楼的四星级宾馆。环境变得更干净了。魏忠文现在住在靠近工地的宿舍中。他有10个室友，其中包括几个新同事。这里没有食堂，因此他们在房间里用液化气罐烧饭。

由于没有暖气，他们都穿着外衣睡觉，有时甚至戴着帽子和手套。冬天北京的温度能够降到零下十几度。有些人花10元钱左右买了电热毯。

他们在有限的空间里充分发挥着创造力，把铺盖卷起来，将下面的床板当作桌子使用。厨师温凤林（音）灵巧地用这个地方切菜和削洋葱皮， 从旧水桶中舀水冲洗食物和餐具。温凤林今年55岁，过去也是建筑工人，但现在被这家建筑公司聘为厨师。他说，“老板告诉我必须学着做饭，因为我岁数太大了，不能做重活。”

由于没有洗浴设施，因此洗澡和洗衣服都是大事。魏忠文记得上次到浴室洗澡还是一个多月前，花了他5块钱。

因没法洗衣服，魏忠文就购买旧服装，一直穿到脏得不能再穿为止。现在，他最喜欢的是花10来块钱买的一件灰色纯棉衬衣，好像原来是公司管理人员穿的。他说，一般情况下，衣服穿脏后我就扔了，但这件衣服我可能会在几天内把它卖掉。

在北京的小胡同中，黑市迎合了建筑工人的需求。小贩经常用易货方式做买卖，因为工人们没有许多地方保留这些东西，多采用用后丢弃的方式。最受欢迎的是带拉练口袋的内衣，可以把钱和贵重物品藏在其中。

魏忠文的工作节奏现在很紧张。酒店目前仍是地表挖的一个大洞。根据北京市的规定，混凝土搅拌车只能在晚上11点后或周末才能进入北京市中心，因此他和工友们为处理混凝土必须干到半夜以后。魏忠文说，等到酒店的基础工作在两个月左右时间内完成后，施工计划将是每五天一层楼。

在11月末，魏忠文和工友们会一起来到附近的小邮局，他们脏兮兮的脸庞与其他顾客明显不同。空气中弥漫着脏衣服的味道，一些人唯恐避之不及。

从上次步行到北京市法律援助中心距今已经整整一年了。魏忠文已经放弃了讨回工钱的希望，但这天却是值得高兴的一天。今天发工资，工人们要给家里汇钱。他们在琢磨如何填表时却有许多不懂的地方。魏忠文就告诉有疑问的工友如何填表，他的眼睛因为上夜班而红红的。

今年20岁的张涛（因）身穿一件被油漆弄脏的蓝毛衣，头发粘在一起。他正在慢慢写下要给家里寄钱的数额：900元。他说，他每个月挣人民币1,000元钱。

又是一个晚上，魏忠文在北京灯光闪烁的高楼大厦和隐约可见的吊车下散步。他说，“我不后悔。我是外来工，为了让家人过得更好，我整年在外。我看到了我的邻居根本想象不到的东西──50层的建筑，还有能装下几百人的大飞机。”

他在工地附近的一家欧式五星级酒店前面停下了。他说，“这些都是我建的，但我从未进去过。”

尽管有些胆怯，他还是推动旋转门，走了进去。

Mei Fong

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So Much Work, So Little Time

2006年12月25日16:42汉 | 大 | 中 | 小

About a mile from Tiananmen Square lies a pit from which a 28-story hotel will rise in a little more than a year. An army of construction workers lives and works at the open site, enduring plunging temperatures and freezing winds.

Some work the midnight hours, while the rest of the city sleeps.

Others rise at dawn. They work 15-hour days or longer, seven days a week. When they topple onto their bunk beds, it is 12 to a room. There is no heat.

One of them is Wei Zhongwen. He has more than two decades as a construction worker, and the injuries to prove it: a missing pinkie and a palm-size dent on his head under his neatly cropped hair. In the past decade, the 41-year-old has helped build skyscrapers, shopping malls and much else in Beijing and nearby provinces. He hasn't seen his wife or daughter in two years, and because of the press of work ahead of the Beijing Summer Olympics in 2008, he may not see them this year either.

'For me, one of the biggest problems of this job is loneliness,' says Mr. Wei, puffing on a cigarette.

In his rural hometown, the money Mr. Wei has sent back has built his extended family a five-room house with a thatch roof, a 21-inch color television set and rooms housing a horse and some pigs. The hardship of his work is worth it, Mr. Wei says, to educate his daughter and sustain his family on their farm.

Beijing is in the midst of an enormous building boom -- one of the most ambitious construction projects the world has ever seen. Cranes clutter its skyline. At more than 10,000 sites across the city, there is a total of 1.7 billion square feet of floor space under construction -- an area that, if laid out, would be nearly three times the size of Manhattan.

This colossal development is due to the efforts of a nearly invisible army, a group of almost two million migrant workers who drift from China's farmlands. Toting their bedrolls from work site to work site, they earn as little as 50 cents an hour. They work in a hazardous profession with practically no workplace protections and little or no medical coverage. Many of the workers live right in the heart of the city, yet few ordinary Beijing residents ever glimpse their crowded barracks, where privacy, cleanliness -- even meat -- are luxuries.

They often get paid late or not at all. A report this year by the research arm of the State Council, China's highest administrative body, found that in 2004, construction firms in Beijing owed roughly 700,000 of their workers more than $380 million in wages. Mr. Wei is fighting to collect about $400 he says he is owed -- half his earnings last year -- and he may never see it.

In such an uncertain environment, workers drift from job to job together. They rely on word of mouth to protect themselves against bad bosses. And, in bad times, they rely on each other.

These men -- there are few women in their crews -- are working against a deadline: December 2007. That is when the bulk of the Olympic construction work must be completed so that Beijing, one of the world's most polluted cities, has time for the air to clear of construction dust before the Games begin.

There is a lot to finish. The Olympics will attract a flood of foreign visitors and unprecedented media attention. Beijing's construction workers are aiming to have built a chunk of a subway system that, when completed, is projected to be the longest in the world, surpassing London's underground. They are erecting an airport terminal bigger than all five at London's Heathrow Airport and about 110 hotels. Including suburbs of Beijing, the building binge could cost more than $180 billion. Some call it China's most ambitious construction project since the Great Wall.

What happens to these workers after the boom already has become a topic of controversy. Beijing officials have made it clear they want to clear them out ahead of the Olympics. But authorities also fear political instability if so many workers are forced to leave because they may have trouble finding jobs back home.

As it is, the construction workers have a tenuous standing in the city. Lacking the papers to stay in Beijing legally, most work off the books, relying on oral promises instead of contracts. When they are sick, they visit illegal clinics, which are cheap but often dirty and run by unlicensed doctors.

Mr. Wei speaks proudly of his 18-year-old daughter Xiaowei, who lives with the rest of his family on a farm in Yushu county, in northeastern Jilin province. He says the girl is a good student and obedient. 'We're not that close. I don't know what she likes,' he says, awkwardly fingering a bunch of keys on his belt. A badge of prosperity among middle-age Chinese men, Mr. Wei's keys are a small vanity. He says he picked them up on the street. They are keys to things he doesn't have: a car, an apartment.

Like other construction workers, he lives frugally in the city. In his latest job he earns about $300 or so a month, but keeps only about $60 of it. The rest he sends home to the '3861 army' -- a term used to describe the women and children left behind in China's interior. (March 8 is China's Women's Day, June 1 Children's Day.)

NEXT TO COAL MINING, construction work has the highest number of casualties in China, with 2,607 reported fatalities in 2005. Steel-tipped boots are rare. China's workers clamber around in thin canvas shoes, often without safety harnesses, and buy their own work gloves. Many of their hard hats are just thin plastic shells, sold for a dollar apiece.

Wang Qishan, the mayor of Beijing, said in a recent interview that he personally reviews construction accident statistics daily. 'I can never be happy when I read such reports,' he said. 'Beijing can't do without these people.' The city tries to provide services such as health care for registered migrant workers, but its resources are overstretched, he said.

Like many other construction workers, Mr. Wei entered the trade because there was little else to do on his family's farm, a small plot where corn and soybeans grow. He left home at 17 for a province next to Beijing.

When he was in his 20s, Mr. Wei's left little finger was sliced off by an electric saw. In 1994, he was hit on the head by a steel rod, landing him in the hospital for more than a month. He counts himself lucky because his employer paid for his medical bills.

Last year, the owner of an art gallery in Tongzhou, a Beijing suburb, stiffed Mr. Wei and 76 crew mates, according to the men and a later court ruling. They had been paid halfway through the project and promised the rest of the pay upon completion. Instead, when they finished they say they were driven from the site by thugs armed with iron staffs and meat cleavers.

China's state-controlled banks have poured credit into real estate, where many companies are politically connected. The easy money often leads to ill-conceived projects that quickly go bust. When financing collapses, construction workers -- the ones at the bottom of the totem pole -- aren't paid. They find it difficult to claim restitution because they often are employed indirectly through subcontractors.

Mr. Wei and his friends say they had no success appealing to authorities in Tongzhou. About 20 of the workers drifted home, defeated. With no money, Mr. Wei and the remaining workers were forced to make camp in the neighboring province of Hebei, eking out a living with odd jobs. They say they lived on steamed buns, mostly, six for one yuan, or about 13 cents.

In November 2005, more than 50 of them rose at dawn. They marched for five hours to central Beijing to appeal to authorities there. They wound up at Beijing's Legal Aid office on Qianmen West Street.

Wang Xuefa, the center's director, remembers the sight of Mr. Wei and his friends kneeling en masse on the office floor. 'It was sad to see men brought so low,' he says.

The Intermediate People's Court in Tongzhou ruled in the group's favor on Jan. 6, ordering the Hong Kong developer Lian Ka Fu International to pay more than $30,000 in back wages to the workers. They haven't seen a cent. Lian Ka Fu's proprietor, Wang Xiaohu, told the court she doesn't have the money, says Chang Mingchuan, a lawyer at Beijing Legal Aid. Ms. Wang couldn't be reached for comment, and her Europe American Art Gallery -- a green low-rise with gold Corinthian columns -- is now shuttered.

Going home for Chinese New Year, China's most important holiday, is a ritual for construction workers. It is the only time in the year they see their families. Like returning heroes, they are feted and tell tales of car-choked streets and the towering skyscrapers they helped build. 'Some of my neighbors have not even taken a train,' Mr. Wei says.

Back home, Mr. Wei is a man of substance. Over the years, his wages, which are higher than average among construction workers because of his bricklaying expertise, have helped his family enjoy some comforts. 'We're very well respected in my home,' he says.

Last January, however, Mr. Wei stayed in a Hebei flophouse instead of returning home for the new year holiday. Penniless, he and his friends were too ashamed to go. To cheer up, they went to an airfield and watched planes taking off.

'Really, that's the only time I felt like suicide. I thought if a car hit me, at least I can get some compensation,' Mr. Wei says.

Reached by telephone, his wife, Ding Guiying, says it is a hard life taking care of Mr. Wei's aged parents, raising her daughter alone and tending the crops. Mr. Wei's wages nowadays go to pay for his daughter's secondary education -- which isn't free in China, even at public schools. Ms. Ding says the bill comes to around $1,300 a year.

Ms. Ding, 42, hopes her husband can come home when their daughter has finished school. 'We keep being separated for such a long time, and I can hardly count how many days we've been together in the past 19 years,' she says.

Mr. Wei spent most of this year in Hebei, the province surrounding Beijing. In May, he and his friends found a job at a residential site. Mr. Wei roomed in a wooden shack with 10 other workers. The floor was a brick-and-dirt mixture. The only running water was from a sink in the courtyard. The toilet was a shed with wooden planks over a hole. In the kitchen, flies clustered thickly.

In Hebei, as is common on such jobs, Mr. Wei paid his employer about 60 cents daily for three meals, mostly rice and tofu. Meat was rare, but he is a vegetarian. Growing up poor, he never got used to the taste of meat.

One of the crew, Yang Xinguo, 53, injured his leg in a traffic accident and had to stop working in September. After lingering for a while, hoping to get compensation from the art-gallery job, he decided to go home in mid-November. He had a few dollars earned before the accident and $50 or so that Mr. Wei and other friends gave him.

'We will send your pay to you, once we get it,' promised Mr. Wei, sitting on Mr. Yang's bed. He offered his departing friend a cigarette. Through the smoke, Mr. Yang's eyes shimmered. 'Men don't want to cry, but we have cried many times,' he said. By late November, Mr. Wei and his crew had moved back to Beijing. They found better work building the 28-story, four-star hotel. Conditions are cleaner. Mr. Wei now lives in barracks perched next to the yawning site. He has 10 roommates, including some new ones. There is no canteen, so they cook in the room, using a gas ring attached to a five-foot canister next to Mr. Wei's bed.

With no heating, they sleep in their jackets, and sometimes hats and gloves, too. Temperatures can drop below zero Fahrenheit in Beijing's winter. Some have electric blankets they bought for about $1.25 each.

They are creative with their limited space, rolling back their bedrolls and using the boards beneath as makeshift tables. The cook, Wen Fenglin, adroitly uses the space to chop cabbages and peel onions, ladling water from an old paint bucket to clean the food and utensils. The 55-year-old used to work on the crew but now is employed by the construction company to cook. 'Boss said I have to learn because I'm too old to do heavy work,' he says, browning onions for an omelet.

There are no washing facilities, so baths and clean clothes are treats. Mr. Wei remembers taking a bath well more than a month ago at a bathhouse, paying about 60 cents.

With no laundry, Mr. Wei buys secondhand clothes, wearing them until they get too dirty. Currently, his favorite is a gray cotton shirt he bought for a little more than a dollar, which looks as if it once might have belonged to a corporate executive. 'I normally throw away the clothes after wearing, but maybe I'll sell this. In about 10 days,' he says.

Around Beijing's small alleyways, an underground economy caters to construction workers. Vendors often do their business by barter because the workers don't have space to keep much and adopt a throwaway culture. One popular item is underwear with zippered pockets, to keep money and valuables close.

MR. WEI'S PACE OF WORK is now frenetic. The hotel still is just a big hole in the ground. Under city ordinances, concrete trucks from the hundreds of factories ringing the city are allowed in the city center only after 11 p.m. and on weekends, so he and his friends must work long past midnight curing concrete. Once the hotel's foundation is done, in about two months, Mr. Wei says the plan is to build a floor every five days.

On the next-to-last day of November, Mr. Wei and his comrades crowded into a small postal outlet, their grimy appearance setting them apart from other customers. The air smelled of unwashed clothes, and some people edged away.

It was exactly a year since they had made their long march to the Beijing Legal Aid office. Mr. Wei had given up hope of recovering his lost wages, but on this day the mood was celebratory. It was payday, and the men wanted to mail their money home. There was a flurry of bewilderment as they fumbled with forms. Mr. Wei, his eyes red-rimmed after a 24-hour shift, helped some of the workers who can't write well fill out the forms.

Zhang Tao, 20, in a paint-stained blue sweater and matted hair, slowly scrawled the amount he is sending home: 900 yuan, or about $115. He said he earns 1,000 yuan, or $128, a month.

On another night, Mr. Wei took a walk, wandering around the city's glittering towers and looming cranes. 'I have no regrets,' he said. 'I'm the migrant worker who stays out all year so home is better. I've seen things my neighbors have never imagined -- 50-story buildings, planes so big they can carry hundreds.'

He stopped in front of a European five-star hotel near his work site. 'I build these things, but I have never been inside,' he said.

Timidly, he pushed the swing door and went in.

Mei Fong