I scraped the frost off the car window, eyes wide, excitedly hoping to make new friends. My wait was soon over as two girls’ voices pierced my thoughts, dissipating my exhaustion from the long drive. “Nice to meet you guys too!” I exclaimed enthusiastically. They rushed over carrying loaded trays and benches for us, smiling widely. Wu Guo, the elder sister, cupped her hands, filled with candies, letting me pick my favorites.
My new friends came from Liangshan, an autonomous prefecture in the Sichuan province where over a million people were afflicted with impoverishment in 2012. This particular family’s suffering was exacerbated by the fact that the mother had become the breadwinner, supporting her three children alone after the death of her husband – who had worked in my father’s factory. My family learned of their strife and decided to support them. Since then, for nearly eight years, we have visited them regularly. But even knowing their hardship, it was easy for me to pretend that their suffering wasn’t there – especially when I was home in my own world where many distractions awaited.
Sometime in middle school, we visited again. At first glance, everything looked the same; the derelict houses, the muddy lane, the decaying iron gate. I excitedly gushed to Wu Guo, “So many great things have happened since I last saw you! I’m now planning and broadcasting content for my campus radio station, and I’m also serving as captain of the track team!” Eyes downcast, she told me she had to postpone entering middle school by two years to help care for her younger brother. Despite having become close friends, in that moment I was reminded that our life circumstances were worlds apart.
When I entered my senior year of high school, Wu Guo was just starting 9th grade – despite being two years older. I excitedly trotted down the same muddy lane towards her bungalow to greet her. As I rushed through the doorway, I nearly slipped on the white marble floors, new beneath my feet. The sparkling chandelier, photographs of the family upon the walls, and new appliances made the place feel only faintly familiar. Wu Guo instantly whipped out her new cell phone – a precious reward from her mom for being first in her class. She opened WeChat and asked me to scan the code. After eight years of friendship, she could finally add me! We immediately began sending pictures back and forth. I also sent her pictures of my dream universities in America. She curiously inquired about the tuition, which hadn’t even crossed my mind. To cover my embarrassment I made up a number, but her still eyes widened incredulously, and a long silence followed. I could feel my face reddening in discomfort and I desperately tried to change the subject. I do not think either of us had ever fully considered how different our paths were. Even with the new furniture and fancy cell phone, many things just ahead for me existed well beyond her reach. Her aspirations for the future remained constricted by the borders of her small village, where mine lay far, far beyond.
Truthfully, self-awareness has taken me considerable time and experience to develop. In retrospection, I have gained far more from that family in Liangshan than I have given. What if I had never met them? Their voices, their story, and their lack of access to opportunity would have remained delicately concealed from my view. I will carry Wu Guo’s story with me wherever I go in the future, and let it guide me in telling the stories of others, silently existing in the margins of society. Social inequality is unfailingly present in our own backyards. The experience of Wu Guo and her family will empower me to help bridge gaps across the global backyard, through powerful storytelling wielding the voices of the unheard.
