Who am I? Good question, but I am not sure. You may be confused by my statement. Here is why I say I'm not sure. For as long as I could remember, I never knew my birth parents. I am not even sure of the year of my birth. All I know is that I got abandoned on the street as a baby. Somehow I got put on the doorstep of an orphanage.

I guess I should tell you where is my childhood home. I live in the city of Kunming. Kunming is in the province of Yunan. I cannot remember which part of the town was the location of my orphanage. I hardly recall the early years I live there. I was given the name Qiu Yan not knowing the mean of the name. I was told the orphanage caregiver guess the season and the year of my birth, which is 1995.

I can not even recall whether the orphanage had a name or not. I remember vividly that the place of my residency was at the bottom level of the building. I recall that three other buildings were surrounding my orphanage. Of course, I was ignorant of the individual that lives there. The orphanage had at least four rooms. One room had enough space for the kids plus some adults. I guess I now called it the living room. The area had ugly wash white walls with barely any picture on it. I recall the discomfort I felt as I lay on the hard concrete floor.

Did I complain about it? I do not remember if I did or not. If I did, it would not matter anyway because the orphanage had barely enough money to pay the girls who work there. I will not lie that I did not know how low the pay would be. At the same time, I am sure I was not the only one that suffered. If you live in this type of environment, I am confident you would get used to it over time.

The dining area might have the same color on the wall. In the beginning, the adult would feed me, and young kids baby foods one by one. Later, when I got my teeth, I was allowed to eat with the older kids. In the room, tables stretch longways. When it was time to eat, the adult would pick up and sat us down in a row.

Meals for older children were not up to the individuals. I had to swallow what was placed in front of me. None of us, including me, dare not to finish the food. Food was already a scarce commodity in the first place. So not finishing your food had a harsh punishment. I will go over an event of my experience when I did not finish the meal in a different episode. What did I eat in the orphanage?

In the morning breakfast, other kids and I would have some kind of noodle dish. Since I live Yunan, the noodle dishes were always so spicy and greasy. I would have tears running down cheeks every time I eat it. Snot would also run down my nose. I did not enjoy it. My poor tongue had to go through hell every day. Tuesday's morning breakfast was my favorite because I could finally taste how delicious food could be. It was not spicy. For lunch and dinner, we had rice dishes with mystery meat and greens. Then again, the meat could have been an animal, maybe even cats or dogs. Who knows. I did not care, nor would I been told the difference. I guess that how I learn to love spicy foods.

Somehow I learned how to hold my unwanted liquid for an extended period of timeThe orphanage had a bathroom. At least the walls had a different color other than the white. However, the deep color blue did not look pleasing to the eye. The texture of the paint was not smooth like the one in the U.S. Plus, the room had no windows, so it did not make it essay to see. There was no barrier distinguish between boys and girls' side. Using the bathroom had left me traumatized.

For the bedrooms. There was only one room. The beds were placed side by side into rows, not leaving a space for entering. Each bed had four bars preventing kids from escaping. Lights in the room at night were left on. I hate it so much. I could not sleep well at night. Of course, my story is just starting.

Signing off

Pan Qiu Yan