The last survivor of Wong Chuk Yeung

A few weeks ago, I wrote about Wong Chuk Yeung village, where only one survivor is left. Since then, I have seen him a number of time in Sai Kung town, at Park N Shop, Wellcome, and around the Jockey Club center buying Mark Six lotteries. Today, I managed to get this photo of him. He walks all the way to Sai Kung town and back, about 8 kilometers. The return walk is all the way uphill. The only dog that's left does not accompany him. (Previously, 3 mongrels used to walk with him all the way to town and back.)

For a man living by himself, he appears to be in relatively good physical and mental health. But the loneliness must be unbearable.

Fuk Hing Bridge

Today's Sunday Morning Post carries a Page 3 article below this photo with the headline "Bruce Lee fan identifies bridge in secretly shot scene". The Fuk Hing Bridge in Pak Tam Chung Country Park is identified as the scene of Bruce Lee's last screen appearance, shot without his knowledge in 1972, for the movie Unicorn Fist.

When we lived at Clover Lodge, a 15-minute walk from Pak Tam Chung, Fawzia and I would walk into the Country Park after dinner. On the way back home, we would stop for a few minutes on the bridge to enjoy the river, the silence, and the solitude. On some evenings, we could hear a flute being played at a nearby house.

The Post article does not mention that Fuk Hing is a footbridge (only for pedestrians and two wheelers) nor does it mention its history. On 23 February 2009, I published a poem titled "A Ballad of Pak Tam Chung" by Patrick Ng Pak-Tay on this blog, and these lines from the poem are about the bridge:

By the “revival bridge”, obviating the need to ford this

“King’s creek” hazardously on foot, next to the present
“Fat Kee store”, whose namesake resident
Of the locale, Ol' Guy Ah Fat, a public-spirited draughtsman,
Drew up the bridge-plan and contacted the local government,
Requesting steel bars, cement and other resources,
And arranging for casual labourers to join forces
In the construction, paying them not in cash,

But in kind, namely, stacks of rice stashed
By the post-war colonial administration.

The bridge in my blog entry, photographed from the opposite direction.

Lumpy Tang

A few weeks ago, the Sunday Morning Post carried a front page story about cabin crew of Hong Kong Airlines being trained in martial arts so that they could handle unruly passengers. (Hong Kong Airlines has a number of routes to China.) Accompanying the story was this photo of Lumpy Tang, a trainee flight attendant. I bet many readers of the Post couldn't help snickering at another idiotic nickname.

Ever since I came to Hong Kong, I've been fascinated by the English nicknames adopted by Hong Kongers. There was no escaping this phenomenon because almost all my local students had Western nicknames. I never had a student named Lumpy, but I do remember a Healthy, a Magic, an Iota, and a Dumbo. The most unforgettable was Pissy Grace, a sweet natured Medical students who took a writing course with me. She was very religious and ended her papers with a "God bless you". I struggled with the idea of explaining to her what Pissy meant but didn't want to traumatize the girl with the truth. I eventually talked to a cricketer colleague of mine from the Medical Faculty. He later told me that the student had been advised to change her name. "Dr. Pissy will see you now" wouldn't sound professional.

These nicknames may be OK for children but become ridiculous on older people. I can mention one, a university teacher named Barley.

These nicknames are given to children by their teachers or relatives. Sometimes, they are made up by the individuals themselves, and are based on their Chinese names. For example, Bo Yee might become Bowie, and Mei Mei Mimi.

A few days ago, I saw a TV program where Lumpy Tang was interviewed. She's lovely. I fly Hong Kong Airlines and may actually get to meet her.

Here are some amusing nicknames that I got off another blog:

Hitler Wong, Gummy Choi, Winky Cheung, Milky Tam, Chlorine Shum, Power Lau, Natalis Chan, Tats Yeung, Bondy Chau, Solar Yim, Sicily Pang, Jelly Au. Hitler Wong used to work for a local TV station and his name would regularly appear in the credits. I haven't seen the name in a while, though. Maybe he has been persuaded to change it.

Hiking Around Yangshuo

The weather was getting warmer (it hit 33 centigrade one day) but I wanted to explore the countryside. The brochures recommended a bicycle and bamboo raft ride (from the photos, it appeared to be made of real bamboo) in the nearby Yulong River, but I wanted to avoid the beaten path. So, on two successive days, I walked up the narrow road beyond the Li River Retreat. The hotel provided a simple hand drawn map and I set off with a backpack, snacks, and water.

After walking through Village #1 (as named in the map), its vegetable plots and orange groves, I went through a small bamboo forest to reach the river. The Li River flowed quietly with not a human or a boat in sight. Birds twittered, dragonflies darted, the bamboo swayed in the light breeze. Where were the 1.3 billion people? Coming down the Li River from Guilin on riverboats, probably.

As I walked along the riverbank, I came across this old fashioned ferry, probably not a rare sight in rural China but remarkable enough for me. I wondered where his passengers came from? Why would they want to cross the here? Actually, the only bridge was some distance downriver, in Yangshuo, so this would be a convenient crossing point for villagers, a short cut. The ferryman was quite elderly. Would someone take over the job when he eventually gives up? The river was shallow here but poling across the water must be tough work.

As I walked on and nearing the stream where I would have to turn left away from the river, I came across this idyllic scene of a modern, colorful riverboat on a rural, isolated setting in the river. The crew were bustling around, clearing up before going back upriver to Guilin. Every day, dozens of these boats bring thousands of day trippers to Yangshuo. Where did they discharge their waste? Into the river? But the river is used for bathing, for washing clothes, and river fish and prawns are served at all local eating places.

I turned left into a small forest of pine and native trees. Forest sounds enveloped me. Cicadas, birds, wind through the trees. Large birds flitted among the high branches. The walk was blissful till the path became narrow and rocky, with a small irrigation channel on one side and a steep slope on the other. Miho, who walked with me on the second day, managed by walking sideways, holding onto the rock on the left. I fell into the water on both days.

The two wheel tractor is King in China. In urban areas, it's seen even on highways, hauling goods. n cities, its also used to haul people. In rural areas, these tractors are used in agriculture, the function for which they were originally designed. They plough and weed rice fields, pump water, husk paddy, and perform numerous other tasks. In Japan, I have seen them used to transplant rice seedlings.

I saw these tractors around Guilin and Yangshuo but buffaloes and cows were also used to plough fields. During the walk, I was often reminded of the countryside in Sri Lanka's Dambulla area, which also is well provided with water and has has forest, rice fields, and vegetable and fruit orchards.

On the subject of two wheeled tractors, which are ubiquitous in Asia, the late Ray Wijewardena of Sri Lanka figures prominently. He invented the first two wheel tractor, the Landmaster, in 1955. My father owned one in the late 1960s and I used it to plough a rice field and to fertilize coconut trees.

I passed this woman transplanting rice on both days of the walk. She worked alone on this backbreaking task. (I know, because I've done it.) She greeted me on both days with a smile, probably why I was walking around without a purpose in the hot sun. Farm workers are probably hard to come by in this area because the tourist trade is more attractive. Some rice fields appeared to be abandoned.

In Lijiang, the peasants were dark. (Some would say they were bronzed.) The outdoor physical labor and the high altitude may be responsible. But the peasants in the Yangshuo area were not dark skinned.

I know only two words in Chinese, "Ni hao" and "Xie xie" and my greetings were always retired, sometimes with a "Hello". I am thinking about returning to Yangshuo for a longer stay to learn conversational Chinese.

Once, ahead of me, I heard a loud, guttural "juk" "juk" sound, used by Sri Lankans to drive cattle. But, as I rounded the corner, I met a farmer driving his flock of ducks.

Water was plentiful and the walk, mostly along the river and the stream, was pleasant. I know that some parts of China, including Shandong, a region that I am familiar with, are facing a severe drought. In Yangshuo, we even had rain in during my visit.

The stream had been dammed so that water could be taken some distance to fields downstream, sometimes at a higher elevation than the stream. This practice is universal. In the Middle East, an irrigation channel is called a falaj and is sometimes directed underground to save the water from evaporation.

This grave bordered the footpath. From its impressive size, an important villager seems to be buried there.

The stones leading to the water indicate a bathing spot for the villagers.

An orange grove. The trees bore flowers so the area was pleasantly scented. Oranges appeared to be the main crop of the area. Some rice fields had been converted to orange groves, probably because rice cultivation is physically more demanding.

Thanks to the tourist trade and the thriving agriculture, the villagers were comparatively prosperous. Their houses were well built of brick and cement and had two or three stories, somewhat similar to the village houses in Hong Kong's New Territories. This was the only mud brick house I saw in the village, probably the last one. I took a peek inside: a bicycle, a rough bed, laundry drying on a line, and clothes heaped on the floor.

Signs of modernity and progress. brand new, multistoried house arises beside a mud brick one.

A field being transplanted, by hand, one seedling at a time.

An interesting name for a language school. Another computer translation?

Noodles drying in the sun and collecting dist from passing vehicles.

Three Years of Blogging

I began blogging on this day three years ago. I was getting tired of the dry "academic" writing which was part of my work, tired of reading and grading dull student papers, and in need of a place to store my reminiscences which were coming out with advancing age. I also began reading Ranjit Hulugalle's marvellous blog "From dream into reality" about his transformation to a gentleman farmer in Sri Lanka, and that was my inspiration.

I stated my aims for the blog as a site to "recall my childhood memories, reflect upon on my experiences in Sri Lanka and elsewhere, describe other interesting phenomena, and express my opinions on past and current events." I also said that, "for convenience, I will also archive my previous "nonacademic" writing on this site."

The transformation from academic to personal writing has not been smooth. I realize the personal writing is dry and not lively, certainly not the style I would wish for. My passionate writing would be on social and political matters, especially in Sri Lanka. But I am reluctant to do that because Sri Lanka is becoming a repressive society and I may not be allowed to enter and move about freely there if I criticized the regime too often.

The blog has more photos than text. That's because I have become lazy.

Thanks to everyone for bearing with me.

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Incredible Aunty Alice

Aunty Alice (Mrs. Alice Nicol) is my dad's older sister. Only two of his siblings survive, the other being Aunty Bee (Mrs. Bridget Wambeek) who lives near London.

Aunty Alice is 94+ and is seen here on a visit to Sri Lanka. She lives in Brisbane, Australia, but most of her life was spent in Sri Lanka. She worked as a nurse while helping her husband around the farm. She has led an active life. In appearance, too, she is small and slim, unlike her siblings.