The Chinese government estimates that there are now 58 million so-called 'left-behind children' (liu shou er tong in Chinese) - or almost one in five children in China. In the countryside, they make up half of all children. Of these, more than half are aged 14 or younger.
More families separated as parents seek work in cities
By Sim Chi Yin, For The Straits Times
DAMEN VILLAGE (Yunnan): Sprawled across the bed, You Shenpu stretched his sinewy arm lazily and waved the remote control in the direction of the TV set.
This sanctuary of his aunt's spartan house on the hill is where Shenpu, 15, comes for a mid-afternoon break from farm chores and for most of his meals.
His own home, a short walk away, sits largely empty these days. His mother left home to work in a factory in the southern boomtown of Shenzhen more than a year ago. Three months ago, his father left too, leaving Shenpu and his 12-year-old brother on their own.
Sadly, their plight is getting more common across the Chinese countryside, raising concerns that these children - which the local press calls 'orphans of our time' - may end up bearing the psychological brunt of China's headlong rush to economic prosperity.
This side effect of the largest tide of domestic migration in the world has been apparent since the start of China's market reforms in the 1980s. But with ever-greater numbers of migrant workers in recent years, the problem of 'left-behind children' is sounding alarm bells even among officials.
China's once-a-decade census released last month showed the number of 'floating' migrants in the country had surged 82.9 per cent to 221.4 million.
Higher urban incomes, along with better roads and shorter journeys, are leading ever more people even in this mountainous area to head out to more prosperous towns and cities - with some locals here seeing what they termed an 'exodus' of villagers after this Chinese New Year in February. In some homes, either the mother or father has left. In others, both have taken off and left the children with relatives or grandparents.
The Chinese government estimates that there are now 58 million so-called 'left-behind children' (liu shou er tong in Chinese) - or almost one in five children in China. In the countryside, they make up half of all children.
Of these, more than half are aged 14 or younger. About 30 per cent have parents who are away for five years or longer, reported the official Xinhua news agency last year, citing a national study.
Observers worry aloud that these children, growing up without their parents, will have higher rates of delinquency, and in the longer term, be social misfits.
Even populist Premier Wen Jiabao has called for more attention to these children, cautioning that they should not become the price China pays in its all-out pursuit to become what the government has termed a 'moderately prosperous society' (xiao kang she hui).
In a study last year of 1,000 'left-behind children' in Henan, the populous central China province which exports the largest number of migrant workers, 57 per cent were found to have emotional problems.
Forty-nine per cent felt people around them did not care for them; 35 per cent said they worried about being bullied; 53 per cent said no one helped them when they had problems with their school work; and 24 per cent said they rarely contacted their parents.
Tellingly, almost 80 per cent said their idea of a 'happy family' was to be with their parents.
If that was what Shenpu - who recently dropped out of school - thought too, he did not wear that on his sleeve.
'I miss them, but that's how it is. What can I do?' he said, flashing a weak smile, his eyes watering a little. 'My younger brother asks me when mum and dad are coming back. I'm silent. I don't know what to say.'
Left-behind children are not unique to China, noted Professor Ye Jingzhong, of the China Agricultural University, a leading scholar on this topic. Studies have shown such issues to be common in the Philippines and Mexico, for instance, both leading exporters of labour. But the impact of the phenomenon within a vast country like China is just starting to be studied.
Prof Ye, a development sociologist, told The Straits Times: 'What's unique in China's case too, is the scale of it all, and secondly, the fact that with the hukou system, the children cannot easily follow the parents to the city or town where they work.'
The hukou, or household registration, system in China logs every citizen according to where they were born and distributes social services such as health care and education based on that.
Prof Ye added: 'The Chinese have a saying, 'By age three, you can tell how the child will be when he's an adult. By age eight, you can see how he is when he's old.' So with the parents not by these children's side, to guide and shape them, of course there will be a big impact. They can't be the same as children from an intact family.'
The broader issue is one of the country's chosen model of development, where economic development comes before social issues, argued Prof Ye.
'When there is a contradiction between economics and social or family life,' he asked, 'which do we choose?'
In the villages, people earn on average around 2,000 to 3,000 yuan (S$380 to S$570) a year. In the cities, that can be a month's wages. For many, heading out to work can feel like the only choice.
In Damen village, lodged in Yunnan's Nu River valley, about half of the 70 households - mostly of the local Lisu minority tribe - have at least one parent away as a migrant worker, leaving relatives to stand in.
Farmer Ah Puxiang, 55, has to make a two-hour trek downhill to his son's home to look after his two grandchildren, aged eight and nine.
His son and daughter-in-law left home in January to become factory workers in a southern city whose name he does not even know. The family had fallen into debt and the couple felt the only way they could make money was to leave.
He said: 'We wish they could stay here, but we know they feel leaving was their only choice. It's all about making a living somehow.'
'The children don't tell us they miss their parents. But when their parents phone, they do tell them that.'
Out in rural China, local officials sometimes encourage the trend, convinced that their villages are too poor or remote to spur economic development.
In a village a half-hour ride away by motorbike from Damen, local officials give 250 yuan to each villager willing to be a migrant worker - enough to cover the bus fare to the provincial capital of Kunming.
Li Xuehua's husband did not get the handout, but still, in early March, he left her and their three children, including a two-month-old girl, and took off for the northern province of Shandong to work packaging fish.
The 30-year-old, who now works the fields with her baby strapped to her back, said: 'I feel sad that my husband is not here... I think more villagers are going because they saw those who left earlier come back and build new houses and they want the same. It is true we need money to buy more cement to complete our house...'
She said: 'I can only hope that he will come back maybe after one or two years and not go out again.
'Money is important but it is not No. 1. I think it's more important to have the whole family together, to bring up our children together.'
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