Read: Via Ports, From Hong Kong to Hong Kong

I chanced upon Via Ports during an afternoon in the library, struggling through another day of battle with my thesis. It was originally published in 1965, reprinted in 2012 by the Hong Kong University Press under their 'Echoes' series. 

The book is written as a chronological narrative, following the experiences and observations of Alexander Grantham, Governor in Hong Kong from 1947-1958. These were vital years; a time where the city was trying to rebuild and cope with the consequences of war and occupation, deal with massive population growth and the subsequent pressures this has had on local infrastructure and resources, (re)establish some degree of socio-political order in the region, and transform the city into one that meets the requirements of a rapidly changing world. The Hong Kong we see today still contains echoes from this time period... 

It starts with the author's arrival to Hong Kong in 1922, with the following chapters detailing his subsequent departure to Bermuda, Jamaica, Nigeria, and the Fiji region, before returning to Hong Kong after WWII. This book could arguably be described as a travel journal; the author describes the people he meets (mostly others under the British colonial service), the activities and events that took place at various localities, and even the 'beauty spots' he visited. Yet the writing goes beyond the stylistic confines of the 'travel writing' genre, and it never feels as though one is reading a purely descriptive account. It helps that the author truly has had first-hand experiences (and an interest) with what he was writing about, and rather than discuss these topics from a narrative distance, he incorporates them into his recollections of everyday life. His descriptions are so vivid and so colourful (in describing Sir Alexander, then known as Bustamane, Grantham recalls the "aquiline features and thick greying hair brushed back...he could harangue and sway a crowd like no one else..." p.34) that you can envision what he was referring to in your mind. 

I particularly enjoyed the human element embedded within the text. Oftentimes, in our attempts to compose a piece of reflexive writing, we find ourselves uncomfortable with putting our own thoughts on paper to be publicly scrutinized, and default to reciting clinical facts (e.g. "I was born during...I went to school at...I did this during...etc.) Here the author does examine the socio-political developments of the places he has been to (e.g. structures of government, local communities and politics, schooling and university systems, corruption), but he also injects milestones from his personal life. One example of this can be found in the first chapter, where the author talks about how his marriage came from his Mandarin lessons during his time in Peking (Beijing): "I made good progress but as time went on my enthusiasm for mandarin gave place to enthusiasm to Maurine Samson..." (p.12). In other instances, he recalls humourous anecdotes with his dogs in Bermuda (p.27), Christmas in Nigeria in 1942 spent engaging in recreational activities with his wife and friends (p.59), and a nostalgic and 'sentimental' return to Peking after the death of his stepfather and the departure of his mother to England (p.134). 

But what was even more surprising was how easy it is to understand the author's thought processes and motivations, even if he was from a different era surrounded by a different world. The author admits that his junior standing in the Secretariat (his title at the time? Extra Assistant Colonial Secretary) during the 1920s rendered him disinterested in wider politics, such that the anti-colonial Seamen's Strike of 1925 warranted only a brief mention in the book; his primary concern was about how the strike could postpone his marriage. His migrations to other localities were driven by his calculations for promotional opportunities. This is not a cynical representation of the persistence of self-interest through time; rather, we can find comfort in knowing that what was of concern and important to him is also what is of concern and important to many of us today.The Governor may be at the apex of the colonial power hierarchy, but he is also human driven by individualistic wants. He enjoys train rides, swimming, walking in the hills, and seeing beautiful sights; he sympathizes with his wife when they have to leave their house and garden behind in Jamaica for Nigeria. There is a subtle emotive quality that many contemporary memoirs lack. 

There were parts of the book that resonates with the sentiments of the current generation of youth in the city; especially with his description of Hong Kong as his 'first love', and with how the book ends with his sailing out of Hong Kong asking the question "[w]ere we going home or were we leaving home?" 

Missing from the book are in-depth examinations about the poverty that was experienced by much of the population in Hong Kong; such as life in the emerging and increasingly crowded squatter settlements, the difficulties in trying to eke a living in an economy that has yet to take-off, and the lack of political inclusion stemming from linguistic boundaries.The author did have encounters with ethnic Chinese during his time in the city, but these were the 'Westernised elites' (a term I am borrowing from another document) and those who served the colonial circles; the head of domestic staff Ah Yau; the diplomatic representative of the communist Chinese government Special Commissioner T.W. Kwok, educated in Harvard and Cambridge; former Magistracy interpreter Chan Kok Wing who later contributed towards anti-corruption efforts; and one of the kaifong (neighbourhood association) leaders called Parkin Wong, educated at Columbia University. Although this sole exposure to the upper strata of Hong Kong society can be uncomfortable for readers, and be indicative of the distance between the colonists with the majority of the population, but perhaps this is an accurate reflection on the reality of life as a Governor. 

Colonialism is a word that has birthed and permeated into a broad array of academic disciplines, not to mention generated a large body of research. In everyday conversations, colonialism is a word that carries negative connotations, used in criticisms towards power-imbalances and the subordination of certain socio-political groups. But trying to apply moral judgments of right and wrong seems irrelevant in this context; this book does not attempt to present itself as a comprehensive historical textbook. It does not criticize nor celebrate colonialism, it treats colonialism as the given state-of-being, because it was such during his time. Ultimately, it is best to see this book as being about a man (albeit a very privileged man) recounting and sharing his unique life experiences, in a lighthearted and eloquent manner, with an emotive touch. 

(205 pages. I borrowed this book from the library, so have no clue how much it will cost. But it should be available on Amazon and the bookshop at the University of Hong Kong.)

Read: 推土機前種花

Yesterday was hot, yesterday was full of sunshine, yesterday was a sweat-fest. And finding myself in the area of Yau Ma Tei didn't help (urban heat island effect! Geography 101.) Thankfully Kubrick was nearby, providing air-con, a cafe with plenty of nice beverages, and a bookshop. Needless to say, where there are books, my wallet opens. 

So say hello to 推土機前種花 by 周綺薇 (Maggie Chow.) The book revolves around the neighbourhood of Sham Shui Po, with the introduction taking the reader back to a 2007 meeting at the Sham Shui Po District Council between government representatives and the residents affected by a 2004 government initiative to redevelop the area. The meeting degenerated into confrontation when the government accused the residents of 'illegally using government property'. Further exchanges between government workers and the affected locals resulted with the questions of the latter being met with obtuse non-answers and threats of police action from the former. Nothing shockingly novel about that scenario, since it is a widespread problem in current Hong Kong and is often reported in the media. 

But by introducing Sham Shui Po to the reader through the context of a conflict allows us to see that it is precisely these conflicts that emphasize, and render visible, the strong community ties that exist. The structure of the book is divided into six sections titled; the district and I; following the path of the neighbourhood locals; telling our story; love letter to the community; the flower gives fruit, the flattened land; and Postscript. 

The first section examines the nature of a neighbourhood, and the author makes such a narrative coherent by weaving her own background and experiences into the text. Instead of presenting her Sham Shui Po neighbours as 'faceless entities', she includes the names and backgrounds of those in her building, and show the linkages between them. By 'linkages', it refers to how they are situated within the physical space (e.g. Old Man 雷 lives in the flat under Uncle 李, Old Man and Old Lady 高 lives upstairs from the author on the fourth floor, etc.); or their role in the community (e.g. Old Man 雷 uses his medical training from his youth to give advice to neighbours, Mr. and Mrs. 馮 run a stationary shop that serves as a centre for news to spread around the locals, Limbu is from Nepal and runs a little corner store.) The best thing about these character introductions is that they are highly personalized, containing the little mundane details that are important to the author herself. 

The other sections takes the reader away from the seeming timelessness of the author's immediate social surroundings, and back to the the problematic world outside. The text then provides a chronological description of the major events that happened, detailing the neighbourhood's progression from voicing their ideas out in public, refusing to play the role of the victims, envisioning their ideal Sham Shui Po through the help of a Dutch activist by the name of Elena, and more. The book does a good job documenting the different events and discussions that take place at different moments in time. One event of particular interest would be the 2007 'Story Telling Gala' on Hing Wah Street, where the author helped erect huge posters formatted to look like the shop fronts of local business owners. People were allowed to interact with the store keepers depicted in the posters, and to leave write comments to stick onto the images. Another event infused with humour includes creating a series of worksheets for Carrie Lam Cheng Yuet-ngor (Permanent Secretary for Housing, Planning, and Lands in 2003/2004 and later the Secretary for Development) including lessons asking Lam to think about what it means for the government development office to put 'people' first (and who these 'people' are interpreted to be), what directions development should take, and the way of life in Hong Kong. 

Ultimately, the efforts of the residents did not stop the Urban Renewal Authorities from tearing down the affected areas, displacing the community and severing the complex network of ties that were there. But the author concludes the book on an optimistic note, as from this episode there sprang a new empowering consciousness within the local population, manifesting as The Sham Shui Po Renewal Concern Group. I for one, am curious to know 'what is next?' and to see what sort of strategies the Group will employ in the face of future government development.      Other questions include; what does the author see as 'ideal development'? In the author's view, what is the degree of effectiveness in the strategies used? And while there are lessons learnt by the local residents, what can the government take away from all of this? How does development practices in Hong Kong compare to those abroad, and is there a model from abroad to learn and copy from? The book manages to force the reader to look with a critical eye at the term '活化' , and to rethink what 'urban renewal' really means (to replace or to rejuvenate?) 

On an unrelated note, is it hard not to notice the plethora of lovely illustrations and photographs in the book, rendering it almost into a graphic novel. 

Book retails for 110HKD at Kubrick (99HKD for Kubrick members). It is 148 pages long, published by MCMM Creations in 2011. Mostly written in Chinese, with a few pages of English translation in the back (though I must say that the English does not fully cover everything mentioned in the Chinese sections.)