‘CARDBOARD GRANNIES’
Struggle of older women to make ends meet symbolises the lot of Hong Kong’s working poor.
They start sometimes at dawn and work frequently into the night, an army of old workers manoeuvring carts around the streets of Hong Kong. Their spines bent from back trouble or simply the burdens of lifelong toil, they’re collecting cardboard boxes to sell to recyclers for the equivalent of US$2.60 a day.
In Hong Kong, they’re known as “cardboard grannies”. They’re estimated by non-government organisations to number 5,000 — a figure almost 40% higher than the total of registered Ferraris, Lamborghinis and Rolls-Royces seen frequently on the streets of the bustling Asian financial centre.
Hong Kong has amassed enormous wealth since its handover to China in 1997, yet it’s also home to an expanding wealth gap, according to the standard measure of income inequality. It has risen to a record in 2017, is the highest in Asia, and exceeds that of the United States and Britain.
“I do this work so I can afford to eat,” said Fok Mei-sung, 67, a former farmer who came from Guangdong province almost 20 years ago. She migrated just as factory jobs were moving in the other direction to the mainland and a building boom was about to transform thousands of acres of farmland into residential estates for the growing middle class — and make the neighbours she left behind comparatively rich.
Fok represents Hong Kong’s growing divide in economic opportunity, one that’s starting to get far more public awareness. In late June, a public protest broke out after a 75-year-old cardboard collector was arrested for unlicensed hawking, which comes with a HK$5,000 ($640) fine, for selling a piece of cardboard for HK$1, the
South China Morning Post reported. The Food and Environmental Hygiene Department, whose officers made the arrest, said it later dropped the charges after consulting with prosecutors and taking the woman’s background into account.
“These old ladies and old men worked their whole lives to support building up this beautiful city,” said Terry Lum, a University of Hong Kong professor and a director at the Sau Po Centre on Ageing.
“What you see now are a group of forgotten workers. They can only use their residual capacity to collect cardboard to sell at a low price in order to supplement their living.”
Many of these workers, particularly women with little education, migrated from China to Hong Kong in the late 1990s seeking to improve their families’ livelihoods and took up the low-wage work they could find. They’ve been cited by the Hong Kong government’s Center for Public Policy as being particularly economically vulnerable and in need of support.
Forty-four percent of city-employed sanitation workers, the report revealed, had immigrated to Hong Kong between 1995 and 2002; 78% of the sanitation workers were women.
Fok used to be one of them before she retired, earning low wages that weren’t nearly enough to buy a home, just as the territory was beginning a property boom that has sent prices soaring 400% since the end of the last slump in 2003.
She thinks frequently of her former neighbours back on the mainland, who she said received hundreds of thousands of yuan for their farmland from developers. Because she gave up her household registration when she moved to Hong Kong, she couldn’t benefit from the payouts.
“Now they are so rich, they can’t even spend it all,” Fok said. “Even after eating big feasts, they even use money to travel around — imagine! They’re people my age, strolling around at their leisure, sipping tea, playing mahjong. What a life they lead.”
The government’s provision of public housing and a living allowance for the elderly poor is insufficient to cover the needs of those who spent decades in poorly paid jobs, have no savings, suffer from ill health and can’t depend on their children for help, said Lum. Waiting times for public housing are long, on average almost five years, despite government pledges to build more supply.
For most of her working life, Fok spent two-thirds of her HK$3,000 monthly salary for rent on an apartment subdivided with wooden planks. Even as her salary rose to HK$6,000 at the peak, rent also doubled to HK$4,000.
After she retired from her government sanitation job, the fund of HK$50,000 she had saved over two decades ran out within two years. After a five-year wait, she received a government-subsidised apartment last September.
“I am so much happier now and feel so much less pressure from my life, but I know many older people who aren’t as lucky as me,” she said. “We get the basics covered in Hong Kong — HK$2,490 a month allowance — but we still need to struggle for our livelihood at our age. It’s just not enough, even if we buy vegetables that are a few days old.”
More than 14 years of crouching and bending over garbage caused a back injury that left her unable to work full-time, she said. Fok long ago separated from her husband and can’t ask for financial help from her two sons who both work in construction and do odd jobs. They barely make enough to support their own families, and she doesn’t want to be a burden, she said.
When she can work, she said she gets up at 4am in order to get a head start on the other elderly residents competing for scrap in her neighbourhood, Sham Shui Po, the poorest in Hong Kong.
“There are days it hurts so much I need to hang onto railings to even take one step,” said Fok. “There’s no time for pleasure, or for any normalcy in my life. I hope that my life here has given my children and grandchildren a better future.”
“These old ladies and old men worked their whole lives to support building up this beautiful city. What you see now are a group of forgotten workers” TERRY LUM University of Hong Kong