A
Child's Alphabet of Hong Kong
Recently,
back in Hong Kong, I saw a book ? "A Child's Alphabet of Hong Kong".
I should have bought a copy, but I do remember a few of the letters. A is
for Abacus . When I went with my mother to look for furniture, in the small,
older shops, usually with the most incredible number of
items, and a very strong smell of sandalwood or camphor, it would not be
uncommon to find an elderly Chinese working out the price on his abacus.
Apparently in the early 1960s an experienced abacus-user was able to do
sums quicker than the most modern computer!
F is for the Feng-Shui man. He was always called in to newly-built houses,
to determine the most auspicious entrance, making sure there was a corner,
thus defying the demons from going straight in.
J is for joss-stick; they were ubiquitous, always being burned? to placate
demons, appease gods, invoke blessings, appeal for luck and ward off disease.
 |
T
is for Tiger-Balm gardens. Inside there were statues
and murals in relief, many depicting the gory torments that would
befall you if…….you were not a good Buddhist?
M
is for Moon-cake. I loved them. They only appeared once a year, at
the Moon-festival, around then end of February/early March, round and
very sweet! |
|
 |
Mick
Mephan
another expatriate child |
| Our
cook, Khu Tien Gou, whom we called Ah Khu, a wonderful Northern Chinese,
used to get (or make) them for me. He was a very accomplished cook,
and, for special occasions used to make ‘my hair’: strands
of fine, golden spun sugar which he would beat with his chopsticks
in wide circles over paper spread out on the floor.
|
His wife, Sui Ying, was the sweetest-natured woman, and she had bound
feet, a custom now fallen into disuse, thank goodness. His younger
son, Tzu Gwong, was an artist, and painted very lifelike animals,
in bright colours, which really impressed me. I had a crush on him
at around age seven. His father, Yuen Yui, had a long moustache which
hung down, and he grew the fingernails of his little fingers very
long, to show that he could afford to pay someone to do his housework
for him. He always wore a long, grey or black, silk robe, and kept
beautiful goldfish with bulbous eyes and lacy tails.
|
From left:- Tzau Gwong, Siu Ying, Yuen Yui and Ah Khu, the cook.
He was very dignified and venerable, and celebrated his 66th birthday
while we were there, a wondrously old age for a Chinese. Double numbers
were considered lucky, for example, the fifth of May (5.5) or the
tenth of October (10.10), which was the day my father first arrived
in Hong Kong.
|
Shortly before I left to
go to boarding-school in Scotland, his elder son got married, the bride
wore scarlet, which was the traditional festive colour: banners were red
with gold lettering. White was the colour for mourning, sometimes we would
see processions of white-clad mourners in the streets.
 |
The
Chinese loved festivals, and celebrating events. Strings of firecrackers
wrapped up in red paper would hang everywhere, there would be an almost
continuous sound of the fire-crackers going off, and smoke .would
drift over the pavements and in front of buildings draped in red banners
covered with gold paint. The opening of the new HSBC branch in Tsuen
Wan was one such occasion. |
I
was in Hong Kong at the time of the coronation of the Queen., and saw the
dragon procession, with the magnificent dragon chasing the pearl. There
were firecrackers and red paper everywhere, and crowds of people. The end
of the festivities was marked by the Dragon Boat Race, with the oarsmen
keeping time to the insistent beating of a drum in the bow of each boat.
We used to go to Deep Water Bay, where there was a golf club. This was on
the other side of the island from the harbour, and less busy. We would often
stay there all day, eating at the club-house. In the evenings I remember
the little chee-chics (gecko lizards) running up and down the walls of the
large, stone verandah, - they shed their tails if their tails were caught.
and the strings of light from the fishing sampans strung out further than
the bay.
Further on, at the end of that road, was Big Wave Bay. If the wind came
from the right direction it was always fun and exciting, people could even
surf there, and it was very exciting to go there for a day-picnic. In between
there were the bays of Sheko and Stanley. There was a country club at Sheko;
my parents were keen golfers and used to go there often. It was a treat
for me as there was a large pool there, where I used to swim for most of
the day, with the other children. Three or four times daily the fawong used
to come round, clearing the pond of insects or dead leaves.
I was taught to swim by a man named Billy Tingle who was like an uncle to
all the children – he used to get young children to put their heads
under water by asking how many fish they could see. In the summertime, when
children would fly to Hong Kong to spend the long holidays with their parents,
there were swimming galas, often sponsored by Coca Cola, with notepads and
pencils as ‘freebies’. The notepads were yellow with ‘safety
first’ slogans written on them, like “Wear something white at
night”, relevant but easy to remember.
