15MINUTE XIAOQU小区; commodity housing enclaves for reform and opening and beyond // ft. excerpt from Xu Qianjin's Floating Abundance: Everyday Scenes from a Xiaoqu
【Not much work is being done here. This is merely a sketch. [Xu Qianjin 徐前进 goes further, if you keep reading.]】
【The map of the outer city—and the inner city, where renewal has been undertaken—is divided into islands. At street level, this is more apparent: wide roads cut between the islands like canals, and walking along the sidewalk, there will be constantly on your right side tall walls or fences.】【The XIAOQU小区 becomes the fundamental unit, not only of planning but also administration and marketing.】【The XIAOQU小区 is not a HOUSING ESTATE or GATED COMMUNITY. Both terms are still useful to translators (and I will use them below). It is related in terms of administrative function to the Soviet МИКРОРАЙО́Н, but spiritually distinct, as it emerged from the market economy.】
【The XIAOQU小区 is a product of the 1980s. It was a replacement for housing forms required by collectivization, like GONGCHANGDAYUAN工厂大院 factory compounds, JUNQUDAYUAN军区大院 military compounds, and JUZHUJIEFANG居住街坊 housing blocks. Veteran planner and architect Zhu Changzhong 朱畅中 might be the father of the XIAOQU小区, at least as a unit for planning. He conceived of them making up a JUZHUQU居住区 residential district, and being broken down further, if large enough, into ZHUZHAIZUTUAN住宅组团 housing groups. /// [H]e gives five requirements which a xiaoqu has to meet. Primarily, it has to be delimited from the rest of the city by certain boundaries like urban arterial roads, greenery patches, ponds, irrigation canals or slopes. … Secondarily, the author defines the scope of the housing estate. He does not give any figures, but says that the scope has to be set under consideration of factors like traffic conditions of the city, natural conditions of topography, population density and a rational radius and complete set of living facilities and services. … [The estate] has to have one elementary school and as many living facilities and services as to meet the needs of the residents. [“The Housing Model xiaoqu 小区: the Expression of an Increasing Polarization of the Urban Population in Chinese Cities?” Fabienne Wallenwein] /// As commercial real estate came online through the 1980s, developers built XIAOQU小区. These became the dominant form.】【All of China lives on a housing estate or a gated community. A XIAOQU小区. [Unless they don’t.]】
【I have lived in XIAOQU小区. Most were not particularly extravagant. They usually had minimal facilities, sometimes only a common area and a corner store. But there was usually a XIAOQU小区 nearby. When I lived in X□□□□□, I walked most days from my tiny XIAOQU小区 to a larger one, where there were several restaurants and a small supermarket, as well as a park with a pond, a music school, and various other amenities. The gate didn’t stop pedestrians; it was there to keep out cars. In Panyu, I lived in a more impressive XIAOQU小区 called Guangzhou Olympic Garden. It was leafy and green and friendly. My roommate sometimes had to sneak through the gate at midnight, but I wouldn’t get home until the gate opened in the morning. [The gate guard is a good person to keep on your side. He should receive special treatment around holidays. It’s good form to stop by for a chat when coming or going.] [A reminder that the protection, upkeep, and administration of nation’s XIAOQU小区 must employ tens of millions.]】
【To understand China requires understanding the XIAOQU小区.】【Who will theorize the XIAOQU小区? Not me. I need to keep searching. Or this is an invitation.】【It is not fair to say that there is no literature of the XIAOQU小区. It is limited. I am thinking of Wang Zhanhei’s 王占黑 “Going to RT-Mart” 去大润发, about riding a suburban courtesy bus from XIAOQU小区 to supercenter. The GONGCHANGDAYUAN工厂大院 and the JUNQUDAYUAN军区大院 inspire nostalgia. The XIAOQU小区 is a place to escape.】【There is anthropology, however. This is most often practiced by Western academics. The XIAOQU小区 is too fundamental to consider as a distinct urban form. The CHENGZHONGCUN城中村 urban villages are more attractive for field work. They are exotic. There are exceptions.】【Last year, Xu Qianjin published a book called Floating Abundance: Everyday Scenes from a Xiaoqu 流动的丰盈:一个小区的日常景观. This is literature of the XIAOQU小区, as well as anthropology of the XIAOQU小区, and theorizing of the XIAOQU小区. Xu Qianjin focuses on a single XIAOQU小区, an OLD XIAOQU老旧小区, which refers to those built before housing market reforms in 1997, something in Changchun (let’s slide this book in with other Dongbei wave works, too). I have not read it all. I will translate some of it now. [As usual, forgive any errors, lapses in tense, or other issues you might find with it.]】
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night is quiet in the xiaoqu. there is only occasionally the call of an ambulance or a firetruck or a police car, responding to a call, or other noises that grate on the nerves. one midnight in early winter, a man and a woman on the west side of the central quarter of the xiaoqu started quarreling. the woman was crying and the man was shouting. this was followed by the sound of an apartment door slamming. the woman was silent for a moment then started crying again. the man responded with more shouting. on a snowy night the next winter, a couple started quarreling on the north side. they were walking and bickering with each other. the woman suddenly shouted, "you think you can talk that way to me? i want to see if you really think you can talk that way to me." she stopped walking and stood there. the man stopped too, breathing heavily, so that the snowflakes swirled around his face. their expressions were hard, forbidding anyone from invading their space. the woman stared angrily at the man and asked him again if he dared to talk to her that way. pu-cha. the woman fell and the man walked away. the next day, there was a depression in the snowbank where she fell. this is the kind of problem that can only occur in intimate relationships. they stared each other down in anger, but their intimacy was not compromised. examined against everyday life, this is a peculiar event. it's something that rarely occurs. the lanes of the xiaoqu are more often filled with couples chit-chatting, walking hand-in-hand, or enjoying silent moments together.
a friendship ended on the south side of the xiaoqu. a tall teenager appeared, wearing black skinny jeans and a black-and-white checked jacket. he walked straight ahead, trailed by a fat companion. they did not speak, until, finally, the tall boy turned and said, "that's enough. you do what you want to do and i'll do what I want to do." he turned and started walking away. his fat former friend clearly wanted to say something, but he couldn't get it out. the tall boy turned and pointed menacingly at him: "don't fuck with me. i know what happened." he walked away without turning back. the fat kid stood there for a long time, looking angry and ashamed. finally, he scoffed, turned and left. the next day, a mother and daughter walked together, on the way to school, headed south. they walked by the spot where the friendship had ended. as she walked, the daughter recited the three-character classic: "if jade is not carved, it has no use. an unlearned man, cannot serve—." an electric scooter ripped by and broke her concentration. her mother prompted her: "take the role of son..." and her daughter answered: "take the role of son when you are young. treat teachers with kindness and observe etiquette."
two old men appeared on the north-south road on the east side of the xiaoqu. they were over eighty, one with a cane and the other without. they walked slowly, one headed south and the other north. their eyes met and they greeted each other with warm smiles. "it's been two or three years since i've seen you around. i heard your surgery went well. i kept thinking about going to see you, but i can't get around too well these days." "me neither. i saw the sun was out, so i thought i'd go for a walk. once it gets cold, i stay inside as much as i can. i don't want to go anywhere. how are you feeling?" "not bad, not bad. i eat well. i get tired easily, though. but i can't get any sleep." "same with me. four, five hours a night. my stomach starts bothering me and i've got to get up. it's better when the weather's warm."
they talked for a while, then the old man with the cane kept going south, the smile still on his face, still nodding. the old man without a cane nodded, too, and went north, trailing his housekeeper. the old man that was going south passed by two meter by two meter wooden board near the fire department. nearby, four firetrucks stood ready. on a banner was written the slogan: "if you listen to the party's commands, the reward is victory and diligence."
the firefighters are all young men in their twenties. they have connections to the community. the wooden board is for training. they get set up a distance away, run at it, leap for the top edge, and try to scramble over. every now and then, dressed in green camouflage, they lined up, marched into the barbershop on the south side of the xiaoqu, and took seats inside with complete discipline, ready for their trims. the fire department has a husky that one of the men leads around the xiaoqu every afternoon. they shave the dog's hair short in the summer, leaving only a mane around its neck and a pompom on its tail. the dog looks handsome and absurd. they try not to let the husky get too close to other dogs. the trip around the xiaoqu is only so that it can do its business, then it goes back almost immediately. sometimes on these walks, the dog will lie on the ground and refuse to move. i saw one of the firefighters pleading with it: "if you don't go back, i won't bring you out again." the dog looked up at the firefighter, tongue lolling, and barked a response.
the xiaoqu has a shop that sells braised meat and vegetables. braised beef is fifty kuai for a jin. braised pork stomach is eighty. they have boiled peanuts, too, and cold dishes. on summer nights, people sit outside until late, chatting and boasting. one sunday night in the summer of 2015, a girl in a red dress followed four firefighters into the shop. three of the firefighters sat down and she went with one to the desk to order. she may have been there to visit her family.
early one late autumn morning, the fire house gate flew open, and sixteen young men ran out. they were carrying drills, pistons, wire, toolbags, which they tossed into the trucks. "quick." "come on." "don't drop it." "get it all in." "shut the door. shut the door." they jumped in the trucks, shouting a string of words that seemed very meaningful at the time but will not be entered into this record. the drivers fired up the engines, radioed in their position, flicked on the lights, and roared out of the driveway, headed south. cars moved out of the way as they went in the incoming lane. they went through a red light at the intersection at the end of the road, headed east, the sound of sirens slowly fading. all it took was three minutes.
the old man headed north turned west and went through the intersection. a mule pulling a flatbed cart was there, led by a man in his fifties. gada. gada. the sound of hoofs. there were some watermelons on the cart, as well as a barrel with dried grass. the man took down the bucket and set it in front of the mule. while the man sold his produce, the mule munched slowly and peacefully on his meal, flicking his tail and watching people walk by. i walked over and patted the mule's head. he looked up at me in a docile way. that day, i bought ten kuai of watermelon. "this is from my garden," the man said. "no pesticides. all natural. you can eat it straight." he broke off a chunk and stuck it in his mouth. "where are you from?" "south of the city. countryside. i come north, selling as i go." the roads in the city are no place for animals, even if that had been what they were designed for. everything is covered in asphalt or concrete. gada. gada. this sound occupies the space around it, never able to escape the pull of meaninglessness. the mule and cart stand in the xiaoqu like a nostalgic still life.
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there was a bird on the west side of the xiaoqu that perched on a tall building and called out each night, wooo woo-oo. the call started high and ended low. it was naturally sad. it was more clear on summer nights but it could be heard in the winter, too. even when it was minus twenty, with the air smoky from the coal heating plant, it could still be heard, wooo woo-oo.
in the fall of 2015, the call disappeared. i looked out from my balcony to where the bird usually perched and it was not there. seven geese flew in horizontal formation across the sky, long wings flapping. i watched as they went into a V shape. i remembered seeing the geese migrating when i was young, every spring and autumn, but it seemed to have been many years since i had seen them last. i suspected i would never see them again. this is the age of extinction. after the economy has finished accelerating, what we truly appreciate is the restoration of the natura order. as i followed the path of the geese, i noticed a spiderweb in a corner of the balcony, with a peanut-sized spider waiting in its center.
beside the tall building where the bird perched, i could see three boys and two girls walking up a narrow road that ran north past it. nobody wants to take the lead. nobody wants to be left behind. they walked spread out across the street. here and there where the shoulder was unpaved, they bunched up together, and then later loosened their formation.
a scooter came racing up from the opposite direction, following the directions on the food delivery app. beepbeep. the horn was sharp and crisp. scooters are cheap, efficient, and stealthy. they hum along almost silently, with only the horn to announce their arrival. they can move as fast as a regular motorbike but they don't have to obey any of the rules of the road. the scooter moved up behind the formation of kids and beepbeep beepbeep. one of the boys in the group turned to look and then kept walking as he was. the boy on the left side of the formation was in the other lane, so he slowed down and moved to the right, slipping behind another kid. the scooter zipped by, the lid on the blue box on the back flapping. it is marked with four characters: □ □ 外 卖. the boy in the middle called out, "what the hell are you doing?" the delivery driver on the scooter must have heard, but he didn't want to waste time and money arguing with kids, so he just kept going.
the two girls in the group seemed like they came from two different eras. one had on the sort of wide-legged pants that were suddenly popular. she was wearing a white down coat and black leather shoes, a scarf. it was quite elegant. the other girl had black leggings, high black boots, and a yellow sweater. that style has been popular seven or eight years now. those wide-legged pants were hot overnight, though. thirty years ago, a tailor told me this: "styles for tops change quick, every year or so, but trousers take longer to go out of fashion." her judgement was no longer relevant. how does a person decide what to wear? why do some styles become fashionable, slip out of fashion, and then come back? this is an important question because it doesn't only apply to clothes but also ideas.
there is a flower bed in the middle of the xiaoqu. some of the older women go there to weed the garden, and each claims a space for herself. none of arrangement this is spelled out in so many words. at the beginning of summer, they use the space on the margins to grow green onions, peppers, string beans, and eggplant. deeper inside the garden, they plant cilantro, cabbage, carrots, amaranth, cucumber, and melons. there are potatoes mixed in with the cabbages. in the center of the flower bed there's a plum tree about seven or eight meters tall. there's a cage at the bottom of the tree where someone keeps a chicken. she is supposed to lay eggs. she sometimes strolled through the xiaoqu with her owner following behind, chasing her away from any dogs. late one night, i heard her squawking, and listened until i couldn't hear it anymore. the next day the cage was empty. a few months later, the owner of the departed chicken set up a wire fence around the cage, preparing to welcome another bird. a neighbor shouted down: "you're wasting your time. you'll lose this one, too." the next day, there were seven chicks inside, three black and four yellow, cheeping and pecking at the grass.
sparrows sometimes rest in the tree in the flower bed, hidden among its leaves. three, five, sometimes dozens sit in the tree, dozing or preening. the two most common birds in the xiaoqu are chittering gray magpies and the sparrows, which flit around in flocks. to survive the era of rapid economic development, birds needed to meet three conditions: high fertility, not choosy about where they live, and ability to eat anything. the type of birds with pretty songs and colorful feathers don't often meet those conditions, so they are rare in the xiaoqu.
i watched one day a group of three kids chasing each other around the flower bed, watched by their parents. a girl of around five or six was in a ride-on car, being chased by a boy. "if i give you fifty kuai, how about i can run all the red lights i want?" she called. in the game they were playing, the boy was a traffic cop, in charge of punishing all of their various violations. the little girl had already ignored the traffic cop's demand to pull over. the other little boy doubled it: "i'll give you a hundred." the girl called back: "two hundred. i'll transfer it on wechat right now." the little boy finally caught up with her and grabbed her shoulder. the little girl was furious. "you're so annoying!" she said, shaking him off. "daddy! daddy! he pulled my clothes." the boy stood there, red-faced, frozen. the game was over.
twenty meters east of the flower bed is a rice noodle shop. it was empty the last time i walked by but the cook was busy cranking out online orders. delivery drivers were pulling up on scooters. they have been given the honorable nickname of "riders" which evokes ancient horsemen. on the south side of the shop, the owner has fenced off a small area in which he keeps chickens. there are three hens and a rooster, which everyone in the xiaoqu has seen grow up from tiny chicks over the last month. parents used to bring their kids to look at them. beside the chicken enclosure, the owner also kept five other birds each in its own cage. one of the birds, a big mynah bird, had an old cellphone hung above its cage and the speaker played “NI HAO NI HAO” on a loop. after a month with “NI HAO NI HAO” as constant background noise, the bird had not learned to repeat it. he remained silent.
i notice an older man near the shop comes out every day to walk his dog. he's in his fifties, healthy and strong, handsome. he carries a radio and walks slowly. his formal work life has ended and the modern retirement system has suddenly transformed his role in the world. before fifty-five or sixty, he was a producer; now he is a retiree. physically, he might not outwork a younger man, but his mind is in its prime. he has profound observations to offer on society. he doesn't share these publicly or in any writing, but he is an expert on human affairs. retirement is a turning point: everything that came before has come to a close; thirty or forty years of accumulated professional knowledge lays fallow at the time it has become the most complete.
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every night at eight or nine, a father and son come north through the xiaoqu. the son drives a tricycle with two wheels in front and one in the back. up front, there is a simple oven made from a recycled oil drum. the father sometimes walks alongside, pushing, and sometimes rides up front. the two men never speak. they sell sweet potatoes outside a nearby hospital. on winter nights, coming back home with their oven, they give the place a warm feeling. they are not from around the area but rent an apartment in the xiaoqu. they go out early and return late. the father does not have much to give his son, except for his technique of roasting sweet potatoes; the son dutifully practices the craft.
this sort of intergenerational transfer of skills or techniques is not particularly common in the xiaoqu. the father started selling roast sweet potatoes here in 1996. in 2009, his son came down with a heart condition. the medical bills ran into the hundreds of thousands of yuan. the old man and his wife sold their land but still had seventy thousand in medical debts. the wife came to work alongside her husband, roasting corn while he sold sweet potatoes. their son was discharged too early, since they didn't have enough to cover his full treatment. he found it hard to get around. students from nearby schools found out about what happened and started a fundraising campaign. they pasted up posters that notified people of the family's ongoing struggles. the local tv station and newspapers got involved, as well as some websites. students, taxi drivers, and civil servants arrived to buy sweet potatoes or donate money, hoping the family would be able to overcome the difficulties they faced. there was a story about a teenager that got off a bus, ordered a roast potato, then, before the old man got it for him, tossed down a ten yuan note, and ran away. one day, a man drove up to the tricycle in his car, dropped a stack of bills totaling about a thousand yuan on the old man. the old man started to bow to him, but the guy just drove away. that afternoon, he came back and gave three thousand. "i don't care who you are," the old man told me, "making money isn't easy. i didn't want to let him go. i was going to get down on my hands and knees... but he did the same thing, just jumped in his car and left."
february 19, 2017, it snowed all day. that night, the wind picked up and it got bitterly cold. i walked by the old man in his usual spot. he was standing in the vicious wind, peering at me through the frost on his glasses. "still got sweet potatoes?" i asked. "two. one big, one small. i'll give you a discount." "give me the big one." "that'll be twelve kuai. ah, give me ten. i'll throw in the small one." "thanks a lot." "that's no problem. once i sell these, i can go home."
up the same road that the father and son usually walk, i often see a middle-aged woman that rides a scooter painted with mickey and donald, and with a banner pinned on it that reads: MEN ARE SCUM. when she drives by a young woman, she'll shout the same phrase at them. if the women look quizzical, she reminds them, "you need to understand that money is all that matters in this world.
there are two common buildings in the xiaoqu. one is a performance hall with a piano in it. this is a very fine piano, which i often hear echoing through the xiaoqu. the players are rarely skilled and sometimes it is only people experimentally hammering out a few notes. during the holidays, there is a performance organized in the hall. across from the performance hall is a games hall, which is usually closed. the man in charge of security is in his sixties and likes to drink. he can often be glimpsed walking around the xiaoqu with his face flushed and his belly sticking out. early summer evenings, he stands by the games hall and admires the orchids. "i planted these," he said to me once. i could smell the booze on his breath. he tried to best to control himself. he didn't want to betray that he was drunk. he pointed to some green leafy plants on the edge of the garden: "you put those in with some fresh fish, stew them together. it tastes a bit like anise. grab a couple. if you want, you can wait until i'm gone. i don't mind."
there are two intersections in the xiaoqu where traffic accidents happen frequently. some are serious and some are not. one intersection is on the southeast side and the other is on the northwest side. two cars arrive at the intersection and each driver make a calculation whether or not the other car will stop. the cost of an accident is higher than the cost of hitting the brakes, one driver will decide, so the other car must stop. if both drivers think the other is going to stop, they usually collide. so, intersections in the xiaoqu are spaces of psychological exploration and repeated wagering. not too long ago, there was a bad accident at the southeast intersection that left one car with its side pushed in and the other with a battered front end. the insurance inspectors and the police arrived. the drivers' emotions subsided after the system intervened. this is a type of exceptional moment when the control of emotions, thought, and ethics fail. in that moment, they are trapped in time's vortex, but the events of the accident will soon fade, and it will all be incorporated back into the sequence of everyday life.
i was down to meet a courier at the time of the accident. he was waiting for me about ten meters from the scene. as he rolled up, he seemed to be in his fifties. he had a gentle voice. on the handlebars of his scooter, he had a phone with a wide screen, which i could see displayed a map of the xiaoqu. he had in wireless earbuds to take phone calls. he dropped off my package and headed to the north side of the xiaoqu. i could hear him talking to the person at his next destination: "your package is here. is there anybody at home? i'll be there in ten minutes. okay. uh-huh. okay." i had ordered a miniature washing machine, a nonstick pan with a glass lid, a stainless steel pot, and a bike helmet.
i decided to get a bike helmet because i commute to work. there are always cars parked in the bike line, so i sometimes have to move left to ride in traffic. when passing people, there's not usually much space. twice, i have had cars pass by almost touching my handlebars, blaring their horn. i thought a helmet would be a good idea. after placing the order online, i followed its progress. this is a good way to understand how modern logistics have changed our conception of space and time. the helmet came from guangdong, traveling the twenty-two hundred kilometers north on the beijing-guangzhou expressway. at beijing, the helmet shifted to another expressway that headed all the way to harbin. finally, it entered the material system of the xiaoqu. in the era of online shopping, this is not a mere act of consumption, but a way to materially sketch the economic outline of the nation state.
after signing for the order, i saw another courier coming. he chuckled at his co-worker's overloaded scooter. we spoke for a while, and he told me that he orders things online, too. why wouldn't you? "the supermarket is going to disappear soon," he said. "we buy everything online." the internet was intended to move around packets of information but over the last ten years it has begun moving things, intervening fulling in the material conditions of daily life. fake products invariably get mixed in, too, violating the system. but compared to the free market with its exorbitant prices and aggressive haggling, this violation is still with the bounds of what most can tolerate.
i wanted to buy a toy piano and went to a local store to check the price. i asked and the woman running the place said sixty kuai. i turned to go and she suddenly dropped to thirty-five kuai. i asked if she could do thirty. she shot me a pained expression but agreed to the price. as i paid, i started to wonder, how much is this thing actually worth? it's the opaque price mechanism that creates the online shopping space.
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