Free Wish You Happy Forever by Jenny Bowen Page A

border crossing to the Special Economic Zone (SEZ) and secured an entry permit for ZZ, required for Chinese nationals only. A dozen or so years earlier, before Deng Xiaoping’s policy of “reform and opening” established it as China’s first SEZ, Shenzhen had been a poor fishing village. Now the government feared that, without entry restrictions, all of China would move there.
    No wonder. Shenzhen was another Hong Kong but, in that uniquely mainland way, flashier and tackier. Tucked between brand-new skyscrapers were budget hotels, job boards, streetside barbers, and vendors hawking junky bright clothes, cheap bus tickets, phone cards, and snacks. Factories of every kind encircled the city. And nobody was from Shenzhen. The place, at least in 1999, was overwhelmed by a steady stream of young migrant workers from every rural corner of China, making their way from farm to factory to take care of their families back home. They were China’s “floating population.” “You are a Shenzhener once you come here,” the saying went.
    THE ORPHANAGE HAD a swank mirrored front. The Shenzhen director, a tiny spark plug in spike heels, was savvy enough to take advantage of the place’s relatively upscale location and open a public kindergarten for the community. The tuition she collected helped support the institution, with the added benefit of potentially (in my mind anyway) allowing orphaned children to mix with those from town. There was nothing special about the care in Shenzhen, but this setup, along with an unusually large population of about six hundred children—maybe something to do with all those young migrant workers—made it look promising for a pilot program. Furthermore, the Shenzhen director seemed open to new ideas and promised she could blast through any potential government obstacles. She guaranteed absolute, 100 percent cooperation.
    Perfect! We had our first pilot site. I was elated. We wouldn’t exactly be saving the world on our first outing, but if the goal was to have a successful first year so that we’d be free to expand to more challenging areas, Shenzhen was definitely the place.
    We still needed a second pilot site—someplace a little smaller, but with a large enough group of children to demonstrate positive impact. I asked Wen to return to Jiangsu Province, on China’s more sophisticated (and hopefully more open-minded) east coast, while I returned to California to tackle the practical side of developing the dream.

Chapter 4
    To Move a Mountain, Begin with Small Stones

    No one had said no, but they hadn’t really said yes, either.
    No matter; I returned home without the slightest doubt that Half the Sky was on its way. I reported back to the board, and they were maybe a little surprised, but definitely pleased and excited, when I told them that we were actually going to do this thing!
    A week later, Wen called to report that she’d found the ideal spot in Jiangsu Province for our second pilot site—Changzhou, a small city not far from Shanghai. There were about 120 children, which would make it a midsize orphanage. As in the majority of places we’d visited, the children’s basic needs were taken care of, but that was it. Wen sent photos. When I saw the barren rooms and blank faces of the children, I agreed: Changzhou would be pilot site number two.
    Now we began to make detailed plans. Wen started reaching out to her connections in China to identify a pool of young teachers for the preschools, and I set to work on a plan for the babies. Beyond adopting Malaguzzi’s inspiration about children and caregivers learning together, I hadn’t made much progress in thinking through how the infant nurture program would work. When I suggested to the orphanage directors during our recent visits that the residents of the adjacent senior housing could come over daily and cuddle the babies, out came the old China Smile. Fixed grin,