民工和鸟巢

英文原文为美联社2008年8月18日新闻稿 译文出自CNDCARA ANNA 文 一片碧绿 译
美联社2008年8月18日。
四个参与北京奥运场馆建设的民工，黝黑的手上握着这次比赛中最热门的入场票，跨过了广阔的奥运绿地。他们中有二个砌砖工，一个保安和一个水泥供应员。
大约有三十万民工参与了奥运项目的建设，他们之中无人有幸观赏奥运。许多人在夏天就离开了北京，他们不再被欢迎。许多工作都因奥运而停了下来，民工们不得不到外地去找活儿干。
但是他们四个碰上了好运，因而能再回到北京，分享奥运胜负中的苦与乐。
一年前，有个中国画家在他们午饭的间歇找上门来，请他们摆个姿势临摹作画。画家许诺说，如果这画能卖出好价，就免费请他们来看奥运。
民工们每天连轴转，除了干活就是睡觉，一天能挣上5个美元，他们甚至连长城都没见过，当然不相信画家的话。
那幅画卖出了超过4600美元的价格。而且，买主为纪念奥运年，还主动加付了2008元（相当于290美元）给画家。
中国有1亿4千万民工 － 相当于俄罗斯的人口 －他们离开农村的贫困生活，到大城市和沿海地区的工厂和建筑工地打工。为养活老家的亲人，长年在低收入与繁重体力劳动之中挣扎，他们被城市白领看作小偷、混杂、无业的二等公民。
当然也存在着对他们的同情和感激，他们是中国白热化经济的人力资源。
星期一，四个人出门去观赛，体育比赛的历史正在这里展开。中国最著名的跨栏运动员刘翔将在鸟巢体育馆当着9万1千名观众的面卫冕奥运金牌。他们的座位在一区，离跑道仅有29排的距离。场外的黄牛票，连比这高得多的座位也已悄声出到了将近300美元。
这是他们有生以来的第一次休假。他们提前两天就到了北京，去了长城，吃了烤鸭，现在该嚐嚐当体育迷的滋味了。“得看看我们的钱够花多长时间”画家说，他叫苏建（音）“我承担了他们所有的费用。”
他们急忙赶向鸟巢体育馆，奥运志愿者查了他们的票，称呼他们“先生”。
他们把印着国旗的小贴纸贴在脸上。
“是很累，但是我很快乐”在接近喧闹的体育馆时40岁的余清柱（音）说，新理的发使他耳边露出一圈白色，“哇，你们听到声音了吗？”
余清柱是他们之中最外向的一个。他曾经打算把另一个人的花销记在苏建的小本上，但最终他的文化水平只够写出人名。他至今没见过任何奥运方面的事，他在北京东北方的一个省里找到了活儿干，那地方没有电视。
“嗨，快点！”24岁的张延群（音）喊道，他穿着新买的白色旅游鞋走在最前面。他们快步前行，顾不上停下来欣赏，只是朝曾经干活的老工地方向指了指，那是鸟巢后面的某个地方。
入场票是从一个保险公司搞到的，那公司要他们每人购买一年的保险。他们从来没有过任何保险。苏建为他们付了账。
苏建说，民工为建设奥运项目做出了贡献，他就是想让他们得到应有的重视。媒体报道了他的做法。一个著名的调查北京民工状况的博客作者张时和（音）在回答电话采访时说，“尽管他想出名，但那有什么关系，他还是很了不起。”
“为了省钱看更多的地方，我们准备住帐篷，或火车站”苏建在网上贴出了这话之后，有人为他们免费提供了一个公寓，那公寓位于北京最好的地段之一，有像样的园林，住户们在林中溜着宠物狗。
“这真是太好了！”50岁的王士棋（音）说，他乘夜车在周六抵达，小肩包里装着一套新衣服，“我请假是扣工资的，但这很值，多少人都没机会观看奥运。”
进了鸟巢体育馆，跑道出现在他们面前，略停看一眼就去找座，他们的座位在三个外国人的前面。入座后，观众欢呼，他们也跟着欢呼，学着同样地舞动手中的小旗。
46岁的恽方志（音）是他们中间最不爱说话的，他空手来到北京，兜里揣着身份证和一点钱就来了，仍穿着往日的那件条纹衫。一堆跟踪而来的记者围上去，中央电视台的问道：“你连牙刷都没带吗？”“我会去买。”恽回答说。
当人们向刚进场的三级跳远运动员欢呼时，恽疑惑地站了起来，然后又坐下了。“我不知道他们是否能融入这些比赛，”苏建说“但最重要的是这里的气氛，我想把他们带进其中。至少他们都知道刘翔和跨栏。”
是的，刘翔是他们的最爱，他们说。刘翔将是这个上午的高潮。
身穿红色运动服的刘翔出现时，全场欢腾。恽不声不响地挪向前面第二排，张和余也跟了上去，王靠在座位上没动，他像在自己家里一样把裤腿卷到了膝盖上面。
运动员就位，王小心翼翼地举起了数码相机。苏建为他们每人买了一台数码相机。
枪声响起，有人抢跑，受伤的刘翔忽然瘸着走出了跑道。
观众们震惊了，屏住了呼吸，失措，随后纷纷离场。
民工的奥运就此结束了。
“这就完了？”王悻悻地问，然后说“还行，不过我很担心刘翔。”
张和恽站在跑道边发愣，照相机悬在手上。张环视周围的空位子问道：“下面我们该干什么了？”
翻译手记
1， 1亿4千万农民工是中国白热化经济的人力资源。他们同时又是中国社会的边缘人：与社会的文化、福利无缘。
2，30万参与奥运建设的民工，因“面子”在奥运开幕前被轰出了北京。
3，画家和捐助者们，是社会良心的闪现。
4，观众因刘翔不参赛而蜂拥退场。这是奥运？
英文原文：
Chinese workers land seats in the Bird‘s Nest
By CARA ANNA – Aug 18, 2008
BEIJING (AP) — Two bricklayers, a security guard and a cement buyer walked across the vast Olympic Green they helped build, holding some of the games‘ hottest tickets in their deeply tanned hands.
About 300,000 migrant workers helped build the Olympics venues. None was expected to watch them. Many left Beijing this summer — no longer welcome — as construction stopped for the games, forcing them to look for work elsewhere.
But these four men returned, brought back by a chance encounter for a taste of Olympic victory and bitter defeat.
A year ago, a Chinese artist found them on their lunch break and asked them to pose for a portrait. He made a promise: If he could sell the painting for enough money, he‘d get them tickets to the games and pay for their expenses.
The men were making $5 a day and just working and sleeping. They‘d never even seen the Great Wall. They simply didn‘t believe him.
But the painting sold for more than $4,600, with an art collector adding 2,008 yuan (about $290) to the asking price in honor of the Olympic year.
China has 140 million migrant workers — equal to the population of Russia — who have abandoned hardscrabble farm lives in rural areas for factory or construction jobs in the big cities and coastal areas.
They spend years toiling in low-paying, backbreaking jobs in the hopes of saving enough to support relatives back home but are often treated like second class citizens by white-collar urbanites who blame them for petty crime, crowding, and lost jobs.
There is also some sympathy and gratitude for the migrants — the human fuel behind China‘s white-hot economy.
So on Monday the four workers were on their way to watch sports history in the making.
China‘s most popular athlete, hurdler Liu Xiang, would defend his gold medal in front of a full Bird‘s Nest stadium of 91,000 people. The men had first-tier seats, 29 rows from the track. Outside the gate, whispering scalpers were asking nearly $300 for seats much higher.
The migrant workers had arrived two days earlier for their first real vacation. They‘d seen the Great Wall and eaten Peking duck. Now they‘d be sports fans.
"Let‘s see how long the money lasts," said the artist, Su Jian. "I‘m paying for everything."
They hurried toward the stadium, where Olympic volunteers checked their tickets and called them "Sir."
Little Chinese flag stickers covered the men‘s faces.
"I‘m tired, sure, but I‘m very happy," Yu Qingzhu, 40, said as they approached an already roaring stadium. His new haircut left him pale around the ears. "Wah! Did you hear that?"
Yu was the most outgoing, and he‘d stepped in to write another man‘s travel expenses in Su‘s notebook when it became clear the man could only write his name. Yu hadn‘t seen anything of the Olympics yet. His new workplace in a province northeast of Beijing had no television.
"Hey, run!" shouted Zhang Yanqun, 24, up ahead in his new white sneakers.
They didn‘t pause to admire their work on the Olympic Green. They pointed in the vague direction of their old work site, somewhere behind the stadium, and hurried on.
Their Olympics tickets were a deal from an insurance company, which asked that the men each buy a year‘s worth of coverage. They‘d never had insurance. Su paid.
Su said he just wanted the migrant workers who helped to build the Olympics venues get the attention they deserved. He got his own share of press, but Zhang Shihe, a well-known blogger who follows Beijing‘s migrant workers, said in a phone interview that it didn‘t matter. "Even if he wants publicity, he‘s still a great guy," he said.
After posting an online plea — "To be able to save more money for seeing the sights, we‘ll go sleep in a tent or a train station" — Su found someone to donate an apartment for the men. It‘s in one of Beijing‘s nicer neighborhoods, with landscaping and residents walking pet poodles.
"This is great!" said Wang Sheqi, 50, who arrived Saturday on an overnight train with a set of new clothes in a tiny shoulder bag. "I‘m on unpaid leave, but it‘s worth it. There are so many people who have no chance to watch the games."
The men entered the stadium and paused as the view of the track opened before them. Their seats were just in front of three foreigners. The men settled in, cheering when the crowd cheered, learning how to do the wave.
Yun Fangzhi, 46, had been the quietest, coming to Beijing with nothing but his ID card and some money stuffed in the pocket of the striped polo shirt he wore every day. The pack of Chinese reporters following the men had been concerned.
"Didn‘t you even bring a toothbrush?" a China Central Television reporter asked. "I‘ll buy one," Yun replied.
As the men‘s triple jumpers paraded onto the field to cheers, Yun stood up uncertainly, then sat down.
"I‘m not sure whether they‘re into these events," Su said. "But it‘s all about the atmosphere. I just wanted to bring them here. And surely they know about Liu Xiang and the hurdles."
They did. Liu was their favorite, they said. His heat was the final event of the morning.
When Liu appeared in a red track suit, the stadium roared. Quietly, Yun worked his way down to the second row. Zhang and Yu followed. Wang sat back, looking at home with his dress pants rolled up to his knees.
The hurdlers settled into the blocks. Wang carefully aimed the digital camera Su had bought for each of them.
A pistol, a false start, then the injured Liu suddenly limped off the track.
The crowd gasped, paused, then started to leave. The migrant workers‘ Olympics were over.
"This is it?" Wang asked finally. "Not bad. I feel really terrible about Liu Xiang, though."
Beside the track, Zhang and Yun stood staring. Their cameras were idle in their hands.
Zhang looked around at the empty seats and asked, "What do we do now?"