Air Apocalypse

Dear China,

Luckily, I can see past my fourth floor balcony. I can see into the courtyard and watch children play. I can see the red lanterns hanging off trees in honour of Lunar New Year. I can even see the apartment building's security guards, smoking away in their tiny office; eyes carefully scanning the comings and goings in Shuxiang Mendi.

What I can barely see, is the 30-floor apartment building being built half a block away. If I squint, I can see the white wing-shaped form of street lights in front of this new building, and even the outline of a blue construction tarp. I cannot see beyond this new building, nor can I really see the top of the construction crane standing in front.

I am constantly asked about the pollution in China. I am also regularly asked about my health, my lungs, whether or not I'm crazy enough to run outside (I'm not), and if this affects my decision on living here.

On days like today, when the pollution index reads 371 and screams "hazardous!", a heaviness clouds my mind. I can do nothing but stare out the window, watching the dust slowly encroach on my balcony and think about one thing: why. 

Officials here have varied answers: it's the overpopulation; it's the number of cars; it's the industry; it's the coal power used for heat. The list seems endless and circuitous; one source feeds into another with no real solution in sight. 

Before coming here, my issues with the countless factories in China stemmed from poor working conditions and the abuses that workers endure. That being said, upon my first visit to the country, a Chinese friend politely informed me, "Working in factories is the livelihood for many people. If we were to shut down the factories, where would they work?" I don't have an answer to that question, but now, having been in the country for just two months, my concerns with the factories spreads beyond workers' rights.

When the pollution soars to such monumental levels that records are broken, (and pictures of Shanghai's skyline is splayed across world newspapers) I begin to focus less on myself and more on how to make a difference in a country that is slowly choking to death. Seeing small children play outside with toy cars or flying kites in air that is pregnant with contaminates makes me sick to my stomach. It's as though, at any moment, the entire country will disappear into the haze; leaving nothing behind but cheap manufactured goods that cost next to nothing in China to make or buy, yet cost everything in human health and welfare. 
 
I never thought that I would adhere to the "buy local" mentality, but I strongly feel that upon my return to Vancouver, I may never look at a "Made in China" label in the same way. The distance between myself and the country in which these products are made has been forever changed. While I may not be able to put a face to the maker of the products, I can certainly put faces to the individuals who suffer from this environmental devastation.

On days like today, I am saddened by the picture outside my window and dreaming of a solution to a most devastating problem. 

Yours in smog,

A.