Like Tsering Degyi, many of the maintenance workers on the Qinghai-Tibet Highway have left their children in the care of their grandparents. However, the situation is much better than it once was.
He Yonggui, the director of the human resources department at the Qinghai-Tibet Highway Management Bureau, joined the office 32 years ago at age 15. His parents arrived at Wudaoliang Maintenance Station in 1960 and he remembers the days when he sported on the grassland along the highway.
"In winter, there was no fresh water, so my parents broke up ice and took it home in a melting pot. When I saw some red worms in the ice, I was frightened. But we had no choice but to drink the water," he said. "The boiled water made me feel as though I had a swollen belly. My brothers and sisters felt the same."
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With the nearest town more than 90 kilometers away, Maintenance Station 109 has dug wells to provide fresh water for the 27 workers.
Sixty certificates cover the walls of the station's meeting room. One of them acknowledges "China's No 1 Road Maintenance Station", and was issued by the Ministry of Transport in 1990, six years after the station was established.
Inside the perimeter fence stand a number of yellow-painted apartment buildings. They were built in the 1980s, and some of the roofs are in need of repair. Each worker is allocated a 60-square-meter apartment, and the coal- and dung-fueled-stoves in the sitting rooms are essential for survival on frigid winter nights.
Lack of amenities
The management bureau bought a generator to provide electricity. However, a shortage of funds means there's barely enough fuel to keep the machine running, and as a result it's used sparingly. The generator is now stored in a small outhouse and is covered with a plastic sheet.
Five years ago, when Gunga married at age 29, he bought a television set and a washing machine, as dictated by local custom. However, the lack of power means the devices are rarely used. The television is now concealed beneath a dust-covered cloth, while the washer had been left in the yard.
Gunga and his wife, Tsering Degyi, used to wander around the yard to locate the best signal for their cellphones. One day, they discovered a spot on the window had access to a perfect signal, so they pasted a cigarette packet to the window and stored their phones in it.
The two-room apartments can accommodate seven people and every apartment carries supplies of oxygen and altitude sickness medicine. Travelers from all over China can stay overnight if the weather is particularly bad, said Pabu, the station chief. The walls of the yard are covered with stickers pasted by visitors to express their gratitude for the shelter provided.
Health risks
The lack of oxygen at high altitudes means the workers may be subject to conditions such as severe headaches, heart disease, high blood pressure and high levels of cholesterol. Some visitors find that the noise of the blood pounding in their ears results in temporary deafness.
Norchung, director of the Amdo branch of the management bureau that administers Station 109, said the high altitude has ruined the health of many workers.
"Many people say that the life expectancy of those who live on the plateau is five years less than people in other parts of China. At this station, 5,200 meters above sea level, a worker's average lifespan is about 45 years," he said.
A recent health check showed that 72 percent of the maintenance workers have heart disease, high cholesterol levels, high levels of uric acid, decreased blood supply to the brain, and arthritis. The figure has fallen by 13 percent since 2006 because of recent upgrades to the facilities.
In Amdo, Norchung has equipped a room with oxygen containers for the workers. However, the high cost, 100,000 yuan ($16,000), means other branches will have to wait for more funds to be allocated before they can share similar amenities.
Low social status
The nature of their work means that many of the staff are deeply sunburned. A local saying, "A maintenance worker looks like a ground charcoal seller, and resembles a dustman when you look closer", indicates the workers' poor social standing.
That low status has led Norchung to worry about the workers' marriage prospects. Only five of the station's 27 staff are married. "Even girls in the neighboring town won't marry a maintenance worker," he said.
Nyima Yanggyi was a shy 27-year-old when she arrived at the 109 station three years ago, but as time passed she began to join in with the jokes about the availability of handsome visitors. In private, some of the 13 female staff discuss their idea of a perfect husband.
"I like tall and handsome guys, but a fat man would be cool for me, because he would be warm enough under the quilt at night. What a pity I can't marry both," said one woman, who preferred not to give her name.
"Most of the women here aren't married, and it's not possible for them to find a good husband. Discussing men is just a form of consolation," said Nyima Yanggyi. "It's just a way of easing our anxiety about marriage and loneliness at the station."