"You must know him," says Yang Weidong, pointing to a smiling face among many pictures of migrant workers, "He was beaten to death in a detention center for failing to provide urban temporary residence permit...I always feel he died for us."

He was talking about Sun Zhigang at a private museum on migrant workers about 40 km from downtown Beijing. Sun's death in 2003 prompted the abolishment of a law to detain and send migrant workers or homeless or jobless persons back home when they were caught without residence permits in cities.

Yang, 28, served as a voluntary guide at the exhibition "Migrant workers - 30 decades - Flowing history" at the museum. The museum was funded by a charity organization Oxfam Hongkong and set up by a group of migrant workers. It keeps about 500 items in the 200-square-meter display area.

Urban residents might be amazed at the colorful permits: temporary residence permits, work permits or employment certificates. "They would ask what were these used for?" Yang says, "Only we know these were the must-haves for us to move around in cities without annoying police."

Six years ago, Yang and his fellows hid themselves in a dark room in Shenzhen, a booming city in Guangdong Province. Police were clearing migrant workers without urban temporary residence permits. The three from Henan Province put down curtains and asked their neighbors to lock them inside so that police might think nobody was in.

They heard knocking at door in the afternoon and dared not let out noise. Their dog Yellow jumped out from under the bed and before it barked, they covered it with quits.

When the knocking ceased, they found the dog was dead. It later proved to be their friends at the door. Yang told China Youth Daily he often felt sorry for Yellow and often mentioned Yellow to visitors in the museum.

Yang's experience was not rare for migrant workers to hide away from police when they didn't have temporary residence permits for either the fees were too expensive or they did not have enough documents to apply for one. The fees was 180 yuan (US$25.71) in Beijing in the beginning and it costs only five yuan now to get a permit, says 31-year-old Wang Dezhi, one founder of the museum.

Now Yang feels safe when walking in any city after the country abolished the law to detain and send back migrant workers without temporary residence permits that had been enforced since 1982.

Yang epitomize Chinese migrant workers since China's reforms and opening-up in 1978. The country reported more than 200 million migrant workers in 2007. China has been improving rules and laws to cope with the new changes and ensure migrant workers' rights. Migrant workers also come into public attention, for example, more popular films depict life of migrant workers.

The museum is located in Picun Village in Jinzhan Township in Chaoyang District.

Though surrounded by high-buildings, the village has never been coveted by real-estate developers as it's right under airplanes' taking-off lines. It became a haven for migrant workers. The village has about 1,000 locals and 5,000 migrant workers.

For every ten minutes, roaring from plane's taking-off, could cover voices between speakers standing two meters away.

32-year-old Sun Heng, director of the museum and a migrant worker, has to raise his voice in speaking, "Migrant workers are large in number, but neglected by the mainstream culture. We need to have our own culture, our own voice."

The museum opened on May 1 this year, the international labor day.

"Respect work, respect the value of work. This is the basic moral of a nation," read words from Premier Wen Jiabao painted on the wall of the museum's main hall.

Under the words were second-hand exhibition cases keeping tickets, permits, fine receipt, deposit receipt, security guard work suits or crumbled governmental papers on migrant workers.

Most items were donated by migrant workers. Though the items speak about inequality and bitterness, Sun says he never thought of making it a "complaint" platform, but "if life is bitter, why shall we shun away from showing it?"

A stand to roast mutton shish kebab, a popular snack food, was donated by a migrant worker surnamed Gao. He came to Beijing in 1992 and made a living by selling roasted mutton shish kebab. Hardship in life made Gao have great affection on the iron stand he made himself. He also sold fruits or fried pancake rolled up with egg filling later and now he works to dispatch newspaper. He donated the stand that had been with him for 16 years to the museum.

A letter from a worker at a toy plant showed she missed her families very much and asked her parents to take care of themselves. Four months later, the woman died in a fire at Shenzhen Zhili Toy Plant. The fire shocked the country with 84 deaths of migrant workers in 1993.

A painting expressed a migrant child's wish. "We sell vegetables. Papa and Mama often are too busy to have dinner. My biggest wish is our family could sit and have dinner together." In the painting are a brown father, a yellow mother and a green daughter at a round table with three bowls and one dish -- a fish.

A room five to six meters wide represented residence of migrant workers. A single bed was pitched on bricks and stuffed underneath with bags, luggage and shoes. Atop a simple cabinet were instant noodles, magazines, candles and a black-white TV. A stove rests at a corner with pots, bowls and a rice bag lying on nearby ground.

"Migrant workers usually live in such narrow space. Visitors can feel their life in when entering the space," Sun says.

The museum, however, have few visitors. In the village, an old man said, "Why should I care for it? Can it be eaten or drunk?" A migrant worker at a construction site in Tongzhou District said, "it's too far and what on earth can I see there?"

Sun believes they are recording their own history in this way.

He is proud about a chart they made on migrant workers' history: in 1978 China reported few migrant workers, the number increased in 1984 and soared abruptly at the end of 1990s and the early 21st century along with China's economic takeoff.

He especially mentioned the year 2003 with two milestones: Premier Wen Jiabao demanded back wages for a migrant worker and Sun Zhigang's death. "Only those who have been through the discrimination and sufferings can understand importance of the two episodes," Sun says.

In February this year, China's National People's Congress (NPC) confirmed the qualification of three rural migrant workers as newly-elected deputies, making them the first batch of "spokespersons" for migrant laborers all over the country in the top legislature. Experts hailed it as a breakthrough in the country's history, hoping it will ease the tension between the city and the countryside.

The Communist Party of China (CPC) Central Committee issued a landmark policy document on rural reform and development in October this year, vowing to enhance safeguarding the rights of migrant workers, ensuring them the same wages and benefits in term of their children's education, public health and housing as citizens.

However, there is still a long way to go. Migrant worker Yang Lihong and her daughter came to visit the museum. Her daughter was to sit the university entrance exam in two years, but she has to return to their hometown where her permanent residence was registered to sit the exam.

"It's hard for us to return," Yang says. She and her husband left their hometown 18 years ago. The farmland was taken back for they defaulted paying taxes and other fees. The home collapsed. "My daughter often asked why we are different from Beijing locals."

She could only pin hopes on "permanent residence registration" reforms, which involve balancing urban and rural resources on education, medical services and insurance among 1.3 billion Chinese. Though she dreamed about it, Yang also admitted, "It's hard to tackle the problem in a short period of time."

A poem by a migrant worker in the museum depicts the dilemma of migrant workers are in:

"Roaring machines replace chirping birds and insects/Roads filled with cars you have to watch out and strangers' faces/ Fellows from the same hometown go together to comfort each other/ Have to live humbly and carefully/ Sometimes sad about the disappearing of rural idyllic life/ However/ Hometown only exists in memory/ Hometown now/ Is as bewildering as cities migrant workers are living in."

(Xinhua News Agency November 3, 2008)