Hong Kong Protests: Last Night at Neverland

This time everything was in order. Procedure had been followed. A court injunction had been posted, informing those who had illegally occupied Admiralty for 75 days that they were in violation of a court order and that they were required to clear the area. A day earlier the police had made it clear that bailiffs would be arriving tomorrow morning, when the injunction would come in to affect. The barricades were coming down and the roads cleared for traffic.

Details of the operation were made public. At 9am bailiffs would issue their warning; at 10am they would begin to clear the roads; at 10.30am the police would take over the operation; from 11am the area would be on lock down, and no one would be allowed either in or out.

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Choral Music – A Celebration of the Spirit of Christmas

My earliest memories of Christmas are of being at my grandmother house in the UK. I remember sitting in what felt like a large, cold room. A sheepskin rug laid over the carpet and close to where two radiators met marked my territory. Here I would spend much of the day reading, drawing or constructing model aeroplane kits. An old clock would tick away the silence, counting down time in-between those arranged activities my father had prepared for me.

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My Love for Hong Kong. And Why I Will Not Leave.

Why do you love Hong Kong so much?

This has been a question I have recently often been asked. It is not because I exude the positive glow of a man loving his life in this great city. Those who have asked me this question are people who know me well. They are people with whom I share a similar experience of Hong Kong; people who share my joy and also my pain.

It is a question they ask already knowing my answer. I love Hong Kong because it is home. It is an answer that they too would give if asked the same question. But they ask me still because they feel our answer increasingly rings hollow.

Hong Kong is increasingly an unloved home. It has become a burden rather than a joy. A source not of hope but of regret and disappointment. If I had a choice I wouldn’t choose Hong Kong as home. But this is a choice I do not believe I have.

One may be able to choose were to live, but our roots are inherited and remain firmly embedded in a place and among a community. For some, these roots are shallow, and spread out over a wide surface. Not reliant on a single patch of ground, they are often more adaptable and better able to weather changing conditions. With shallow roots a sapling can be replanted in a new and more fertile patch of land. But shallow roots feel only the topsoil.

In others these roots run deep. Having taken root, an old oak now stands in time, a witness to the changing seasons. We value those with deep roots differently. They do not add to the garden, but define the natural landscape within which a garden is itself set. To sever these roots is to kill the tree. It is also to remove a relationship between the living and the earth that can not just be replaced. The landscape itself must change fundamentally.

It is not a matter of time, nor of generations or heritage. It is an attitude, in how one is by nature connected to a place – both a physical and social environment. It depends on what home means to the person. It depends on how we understand it, which in turn depends on how we love.

I feel my roots deeply. Hong Kong has defined all that is important to me. It frames my earliest childhood memories, and provides the values, the traditions and the culture that guide my relationships. It is my first and defining love as it is my hate. It provides the context within which I have grown, the backbone around which my person is built.

I may have a foreign passport. I may have the right to reside elsewhere. But I do not hold this passport as a foreign national, but as a Hong Kong man. It is neither my ticket home nor my escape, but a mark of the (admittedly privileged) local community in which I was raised. I retain it because it is a Hong Kong things to do, a relic of a shared and local history when under a more direct threat the passport served a more obvious purpose. I am sure there will be a time when I give up my foreign passport, but this will be when as a Hong Kong person it no longer feels rights.

We never know what the future has in stall. Perhaps I will leave Hong Kong. Perhaps a landscape crafted by many generations will be deemed unfit for the new estate our lords in the North are building, and every oak will be felled and every hillside levelled. If stranded in a field of weeds my tree may whither. But even should my seed be carried on foreign winds to a new patch of land the tree will remain. It may never again blossom, it’s roots cut, a dead stump hollowed out, but it will not go.

To leave Hong Kong is to leave everything that I am. It is to reject all that I experience. It is to turn inward, to reject one reality in search of another; to understand myself not as a part, of a community and place, but as merely a self. It is to reject my past, to sever my roots and to realign my perspective; to reframe reality around a new context. It is, in short, to accept the death of who I am now and to embrace the uncertainty of being reborn someone else. This is a decisions I never wish to have to make. It is also a decisions only I should ever make.

 

I am not a patriot. I love no political entity, nor do I hold any national ideology dear. As with all ideologies, their place is in the mind and not the heart. They are taught and not felt. Let them be our studies.

 

But I love my home. I love those people, and the community that I am a part of. I love the places, and the institutions that have framed my understanding. I love the culture and traditions that forged my sense of my humanity, and my heritage that has given me a context. All have shaped who I am. This is home.

To The People On The Street 寫給街上的人們

(編按:此為修訂版本,中文譯文於英文原文之下,由 Sally 提供)

In the past week you have created hope where once there was resignation. In action and in spirit you have been a reflection of much that is good in the Hong Kong people. The world has watched in admiration. I have never felt more proud of the people I feel privileged to call my own.

In the face of cold authority robbed by diktat of its humanity you have shone as a beacon of warmth. You have faced up to the ugliness in our community – the bigots and racists and those who fly the flags of ignorant intolerance.

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I’m Explaining a Few Things: An Important Question.

You are going to ask: and where are the lilacs?

So begins Pablo Neruda’s poem, I’m Explaining a Few Things. Harold Pinter described the poem as the most powerful literary representation of the bombing of civilians. But for me its power comes as much from this question as the brutal, personal and descriptive language the poet employed to literarily illustrate the bonfires that destroy beautiful Spain. 

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Taxi Drivers Choosing Passengers, And What We Can Learn From It

Central. It’s the early hours of a weekend morning. Revellers are pouring out of the clubs and bars in and around Lan Kwai Fong. The queue for taxis outside the Landmark stretches the length of the road up to the traffic lights.

A man rushes out from the queue. He staggers slightly, one hand outstretched towards a passing taxi that slowly glides alongside the waiting crowds. His other hand grasps a young woman who remains holding their place in line. “$500″ to mid-levels!”, he shouts. “I can pay US dollars… Renminbi? What do you want?”

The taxi driver ignores him and drives to the front of the queue. Having waited for nearly an hour in line I propped up the courage to speak my mind. “Taxis shouldn’t accept your offer. It’s against the law.” I hoped he also noted my implied criticism of his behaviour. “Just wait your turn”, I added.

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