MID-AUTUMN IN STANLEY

Harvest moon or mid-autumn moon, celebrated universally is also our Lantern Festival. This year 2014 it fell on the 8^th September and with threats of partial eclipse.

In Hong Kong the autumn festival is a romantic one. On the night of the full moon adults and children make their way, with lit lanterns, to the mountain peaks or to the beaches to watch the full moon rise.

Mid-autumn Sunrise

Twin Rocks Stanley

Mid-Autumn Moon

Moon Play

Reflection in the Bay

Hot Night BBQ

Midnight Cleanup

JULY 1 PROTEST MARCH

Protest March, 1st. July 2014

Hong Kong

Tuesday 1 July 2014 will go down in the history as the day the people of Hong Kong spoke for Democracy.

Whichever way we look at it, whether half a million or a quarter million that turned out on the protest march, the number is huge.

Photo credit:
Brandon Cheung

The logistics of organising such a gathering is enormously mind-boggling. The march portrays tremendous stamina and patience and focus of the thousands that waited and marched for hours on a summer’s day of sun and downpours. Humidity was high and temperatures topped 33c. There were an array of small demands but two key points are what got our protest going: universal suffrage and one country two systems. We will not take this lightly.

Hong Kong has flourished for 17 years with no misunderstanding about the basic law: One Country, Two Systems. Hong Kong has vastly contributed to China in the way of trade and charity. And now Beijing warns that it holds the ultimate authority over our financial centre. The call for democracy by the majority for the seven million of Hong Kong is causing stirrings of great fear in the giant heart of the mainland, the Central Government.

Beijing feels that the high autonomy of jurisdiction enjoyed by Hong Kong has been due to an ‘oversight’ on its part and in trying to set us straight the Central Government came out with a White Paper explaining to us what our separate system is. In doing so the Central Government has shot itself in the foot. Hong Kongers are horrified, justifiably so and more determined for democracy.

The White Paper projects Hong Kong’s future in a different light. Hong Kongers realize they have to stand firmer. We will accept no new jurisdiction over us. The call for democracy is nothing new. Our determination is clear, 800,000 voted in the referendum, we want to elect our chief executive.

Since 1997 Hong Kong, the miniscule dot on the vast China continent, has contributed to the mainland’s economy. We are the largest offshore renminbi market. We have no desire not to prosper and when we do so does China. There is no doubt about co-operation. Love and loyalty come naturally.

The world is watching.

Listen to the people; it’s the people that make the country.

Hong Kong belongs to the Hong Kong people.

BODY NOT FOUND

CORRUPTION NOT WIPED OUT

Dragon Boat Festival

Two thousand years ago Poet Qu Yuan, a government minister and adviser to the king, found corruption among the country’s officials disastrous for the kingdom. He saw the country plunge towards ruination. The king paid little heed to his warnings and sent him away. On his banishment he committed suicide by drowning in the Mi-lo River. His followers and fishermen began a desperate search for his body. They paddled out beating drums to frighten the spirits; and tossed rice wrapped in bamboo leaves into the river to feed the fish so they would not eat Qu Yuan. His body was not found and two thousand years later neither has corruption among government officials been wiped out.

Carved Painted Dragon Head

The Memorial Day, Tuen Ng Festival, is celebrated as the Dragon Boat Festival. The dragon representing the God of the Sea. The cultural event, steeped in tradition, takes place on the 5th day of the 5th month of the Chinese Lunar calendar.This usually falls close to the summer solstice. The day has also taken on an international carnival flavour. Row boats, with dragon heads at bows and dragon tail carvings at the rear, manned by drummers compete in spectacular races. This special day is celebrated in China and Hong Kong and Taiwan and in most S. and S. E. Asian countries where Chinese people have settled.

Dragon Tail

Kunal Basu, author, poet.

KUNAL BASU
AUTHOR POET

Kunal Basu is the Indian author of The Opium Clerk (2001), The Miniaturist (2003), Racists (2006) and The Yellow Emperor’s Cure (2011). The title story of his short story collection ‘The Japanese Wife’ (2008) has been made into a film by Aparna Sen, the Indian filmmaker of great repute.

TAKING QUESTIONS

Born in Kolkatato, he grew up in Bengal. He was brought up in a family steeped in writing, publishing and acting, a literary family that enjoyed books and the arts. He now lives in England and teaches at Oxford University.

KUNAL BASU
ENJOYING HIS FANS

His writing has taken him into a vast variety of subjects and deep research, from the study of opium to the Mogul miniature artists, from Africa to China and from a small village in Bengal to Tokyo. All his works are rich and deeply engrossing.

DOUGLAS KERR
AUTHOR WRITER

Recently at the HK International Literary Festival (5th to 14th October 2012) Kunal Basu gave several readings to eager crowds of Hong Kong writers and readers and was in conversation with Douglas Kerr, Director HK International Literary Festival Ltd.

Hong Kong: My City Wet

In Central on a Wet Day

It has been several long wet weeks in Hong Kong; much thunder lightning and storms. To enjoy some of the rain Don and I decided on a city walk of exhibitions last Sunday. We took in ‘Transforming Minds’, the great Buddhist Exhibit of sculptures at the Asia Society, and made a trip to Sundaran Tagore Gallery showing Annie Leibovitz photos and visited my friend, Karin, at the Karin Weber Gallery exhibiting Phaneendra Nath Chaturvedi works.

Along the Bridge Asia Society

Long and Wet

A still fountain reflecting green and high-rise

Image Buddha above city scape. Sculpture by Zhang Huan

Fountain Hong Kong Park

Roots in City Street

Escalator Pacific Place

Bananas in Graham Street

Famous Causeway Bay Flower Man in Central

Chempak $10, and $20 Gardenia

OCCUPY CENTRAL HONG KONG

This new social experiment needs a due date

Occupy Central Hong Kong

Occupation Central began as early as the 70’s. Having spent six-week days looking after Hong Kong families and children and pets, our domestic helpers occupy pavements, walkways and parks in Central on their day off. They gather to meet friends and relatives, to socialize, share food, news and gossip.

Sunday, their day off.

Foreign domestic helpers in Central

As of the 15th October 2011 we have another Occupy Central group.
Protesters have occupied the ground floor space of the Hong Kong and Shanghai Banking Corporation for more than a month. The migrant workers, an accommodating lot, have been displaced from this space. On Sundays they are squeezed around the periphery.

The Meeting

Periphery

There is much admiration for this peaceful demonstration, Occupy Central. It is indeed a noble gesture that a group of our citizens demonstrated, showed their support for the Occupy Wall Street Movement with placards and slogans and waving fists, denouncing the greed of our own Banks and other Corporations.

Forty or so demonstrators decided to occupy the ground floor beneath the HSBC with all the paraphernalia of a home away from home. Tents, sleeping bags, sofas, bicycles, bookshelves, guitars, tables, stools, computers, laundry, a clothesline, a generator, and a mini-kitchen make this the most unsightly happening in our lovely city.

I have much sympathy for the demonstrators and their cause…the ‘Greed’ has indeed spread around the world. ‘1% holds the wealth of the world’ the placard says but looking at the occupiers last Sunday afternoon did not give me much hope for a successful outcome of snatching part of that 1%. What I saw seemed an untidy group of twelve or so tired and bored.

Our HK group is indeed lucky, they do not have to worry about inclement weather, the very bank they are angry about gives them a comfortable squatting space beneath its tower, the Asian headquarters of HSBC Holdings.

Accessible and nearby is the clean public loo and washing facility. Rubbish collection and ample lighting are provided by the very government one wishes to topple.

‘Everyone is equal’ said one slogan. It reminded me of the slogan that some are more equal since the migrant workers had their space taken by the all are equal group.

‘There are no designated leaders at “Occupy Central”, and all matters are put through an extensive decision-making process to reach a consensus. Everything is shared, from water to food and cigarettes,’ said a report.

Great sentiment, I thought, but leaderless leads to nowhere.

‘I want to tear down capitalism’ screamed a placard. Anti-capitalist passion, and I hope the how has been sorted out.

‘The gap between the poor and the rich people in Hong Kong is the most serious in the world,’ said another.

And one twitter has the right invitation:‘to night let us bros and sis have our first hot pot together at occupy central’

What is the focus?
What is the outcome so far?
What, when is the end?

The food and hygiene and environment and other authorise have turned a blind eye to the unsightly squatter mess of sleeping quarters, a mini kitchen, and laundry blowing in the breeze on Queens Road, Central.

Let us hope when the authorities finally decide enough is enough, as is happening in the US right now, they will be compassionate and give our squatters enough time to move away. And our protestors for their part will peacefully move on to somewhere else or find a different route to solving the international problem.

This new social experiment needs a due date.

Partners in Crime

Partners in Crime

It was them alright
There they were, like regular tycoons in a limo
Looking straight ahead, impressive, real cool
Waiting for a signal, no doubt
Or, were they waiting for the traffic lights to change
The whole force had been on the lookout
I spotted them straight away, well almost
There were those tell-tale designer bags
Five or more, in the back seat. The missing diamonds
Had to be, too many recent jewellery heists in the vicinity
It’s no wonder I’m known as the Queen of Wanchai
Erm, I mean, Queen of Wanchai Detectives
I knew I had one shot, one shot only ‘Get them Girl’, I said
I whipped out my Canon, just in time for that shot
The lights changed to green, they pulled away
Zoom! Gone!
Left me coughing and spluttering in exhaust fumes.

Leela Panikar

A HAPPY NEW YEAR

A very happy Vishu

From a small village in Hong Kong comes a powerful message
Be Happy

Garden Ganesha

A very happy Hindu New Year to all my friends.

Hong Kong Protests

Street Brawlers

We, in Hong Kong, are given every chance to protest and have rules in place to practice our rights. Local and international protesters have taken to the streets. Protests have been effective and have brought a lot of good for Hong Kong.

But let’s not forget when a large protest is scheduled taxpayers’ money is used for deployment of manpower to allow it to place under safe conditions for those in the business of protesting and the rest of the public. I say business of protesting for protestors are uniformed in various and colourful logo-ed T-shirts and caps, string miles of banners, carry posters, and protest toys such as plastic hammers and fake rice bowls, paper coffins and all manner of interesting objects and symbols.

Much inconvenience is caused: roads closed off holding up public transport and shop frontages blocked, daily life disrupted.

We put up with all but thuggish behaviour of small groups and individual protestors is getting totally out of hand. These so called people’s representatives and concerned groups are resorting to bullying and violence. Every new incident is more shocking than the last. The latest scuffle involving our Chief Executive should not have been allowed to take place. There should have been better security than by-standing body guards.

Throwing of objects, bodily bulldozing their way and leaping over railings to attack government officials or the police is increasing. This type of behaviour is shocking, is an embarrassment to peaceful Hong Kong and sets very bad example for the young, our future protesters.

Our politicians and representative of government have become street brawlers and thugs. The deranged should be barred or expelled from the legislature. Severe penalties are called for.

Sharks look out!

Humans are circling you, closing in.

We human beings, unlike other animals, seek to eat fellow creatures not only to satisfy hunger but for the taste and for the fun of it. We demand and create food purely for pleasure. And for that pleasure we torture and kill over 100,000 million sharks worldwide. Shark fin soup is a status symbol, it is expensive. One can pay up to $400 for a bowl of soup. It is is neither proven nutritious nor tasty without the help of additives. We have cultivated a fake delicacy, a designer dish.

Sharks caught and finned are thrown back into the sea to suffer and die horrifically. Unable to swim, bleeding and desperate, they sink to the bottom, and sometimes take days to die. The shark meat does not fetch a high enough price to bring ashore. Big and often illegal operations deprive smaller fishing communities of their livelihood and shark meat that is their diet. We are depleting the oceans of these creatures leading to a dangerous imbalance of the marine ecosystem.

We, in Hong Kong, are inventive in many fields, and enjoy the status of being the best and the first and the foremost internationally. We also love giving our selves names. I can be Leela for a few years and then choose to be Rainbow, Sparkle, Jealousy, or Standoff.

We are ‘World City’, whether we chose the name or it was given to us, I am not sure but a name we take pride in. And as such ‘A World City’ we boast of many things but one of our restaurants, Sun Tung Lok Restaurant being awarded a Three Star Michelin Prize on 3rd December 2010 is disgusting news however random the choice happened to be. Sun Tung Lok is one of hundreds of restaurants in Hong Kong that still take pride in offering Shark Fin Soup.

Hong Kong is now the global hub of shark fin trade. It is reported Hong Kong accounts for up to 80% of world trade, yes, Hong Kong, a mere dot on the world map. We imported 9,300 tons of dried and frozen shark fins last year.

A walk through the Western District of Hong Kong reveals the biggest variety of dried goods outlets, grocery and medicinal shops: dried fish and shrimps; dried snakes, turtles, frogs, abalone; sea horse and sea-cucumber; bats, ducks and birds, crocodiles; and creatures quaint and rare are on display. This is all very exciting until we come to the disgusting shark fin section of hundreds of shark fin outlets. Recently this area has also become a processing centre. Stretches of pavements drying defrosted fins invade much of the district with the reeking putrid smell of rotting flesh.

Spain, Norway, Britain, France, Portugal and Italy are in the fray, turning a blind eye to the trade. Other fin traders are Taiwan, Indonesia, United Arab Emirates, United States, Yemen, India, Japan, Mexico and insatiable China.

Dolphin meat is often used as shark bait. Whales, sea turtles and other sea creatures are caught up in the shark nets.

Time we stopped this trade, time we respected sharks.

Let the sharks live, they have been here for over 400 million years.

Mid Autumn Festival

Harvest Moon
Harvest moon, Autumn Moon is celebrated in many cultures. Crops are gathered, Gods are thanked and offerings made for more good harvests.

Chinese people celebrate Mid Autumn Festival on the 15th day of the eight month of the Lunar Calendar.

Paper Lantern

It is written that in the Sung Dynasty (A.D. 960-1280) a rebellion against an occupying government was carried by ‘Texting’ i.e. sending hidden messages in cakes. Baked into each cake sent to families was a plan of attack on that full moon night. The attack successful, the government overthrown, hence the celebration. The day continues to be celebrated centuries later – no attacks but moon-cakes, and family feasts, lanterns and moon-viewing.

After dinner it is customary for families to go out with children to gather at parks, on beaches, on hill tops and mountains closer to the moon to see it rise, and to gaze. Children carry paper/bamboo lanterns lit up by candles but due to fire hazards, especially with young children, and the huge task of cleaning up wax from public places.

Lanterns for Sale

Hong Kong has gone over to plastic lanterns with battery operated lights.

Pretty Girl

Mr. Cat

Noodle Stall

Rickshaw Man

Mei Mei

If she gazes at the full moon she’ll see a rabbit.

Traditional Moon Cake

Tradition Moon Cake stamped with special characters and filled with lotus paste and round whole egg yolks, one or two symbolizing the moon are now giving way to moon cakes in various shapes and different fillings – mung beans, chocolate truffle, nuts and come with flavours coffee, coconut and even chilli.

Moon Cake Stall

Non-traditional moon cakes and lanterns of plastic, battery, bulbs has taken the romance out of the festival but it is still a magical time, a time when a natural phenomena takes place, the day after mid-autumn the days begin to get cooler. Temperatures begin to fall and summer officially departs.

Friends Meet Again

Travelling friends meet
Air sparking energy
Love and laughter
We talk of
Writing and friendship
Families and good times

An amazingly beautiful eve
Sky dramatic
Grey clouds chasing black
Lightning streak electric
Thunder resound thunder

at Zefferini’s

31 floors above

Our star Marjorie left Hong Kong for China, leaving China for Canada, another farewell

Becky off to celebrate her birthday, a production in great style, in her hometown in a Southern State, USA

Ellen planning a big summer trip, a safari maybe, and Lavinia off to meet Denzel, as in Washington, but in New York

And here are We

to see another Marjorie farewell: http://www.leela.net/blog/?p=30

Tiger Year Dragon Dance

Tiger Year Dragon Dance

Northern cold, eleven degrees. Sky overcast. Tiger, element metal, waited his turn, began today in heavy drizzle. Sent dragon passionate in red and spring spirit in green. Hastening growth, breathing clouds of shifting fog. Tall boys carry bamboo poles, flags of colours strong. Procession drenched, wet hair, soggy shoes. Tiger-sent-Dragon dances up slope, stops at gate. Vibrant passion, valiantly leaps, gyrates to voice of gongs. Cymbals drown birds sounds in sullen branches. Dragon, eyes rolling, collects fortune packet. Fire crackers burst, cordite, evil spirits cast off. Lettuce strewn for new start he backs away wishing us Gong Xi Fa Cai.

Christmas Masquerade

Once I was small, Christmas trees were tall. Now I am tall (well almost) Christmas trees are tinsel, made in China. Elegantly they sit on window sills, fairy lights flicker fade. Christmas is blurred, fluidly changed. A God’s birthday counted down and god managers preach intolerance, separation. Weak hymns in churches half filled and midnight mass at ten pm. Carols sung in languages foreign. Drunk, feasting. Gifts purchased, wrapped, waiting. Santa on the horizon. Who draws his sleigh – camels, buffaloes, kangaroos? Solar panels, no sooty chimneys. Here comes Santa, oops he … She. Small. Points digital camera at me.

December in H.K.

December pleasant enough. White orchids still bloom. Red rose hidden in green foliage. Happy bamboo sways bulbuls tweeting love. Excited sparrow tribes hop about, magpies quarrel. All search worms slumbering hidden in twigs. Three sandpipers in from the beach not far. Doves strut about. Concrete homes trap winter. Indoor chill registers 8c. No central heating or other. Cheerful, summer windows built for breeze allow gales seek shelter. Pullover, jacket, socks doubled, feet on antique Tibetan rug. Hands in cut-off gloves, fingers numb with cold tap on keys. Ideas flow leisurely, phrases, sentences, paragraphs. Short stories blossom like the winter garden.

Sir Jeffrey Archer

A magical event at the Foreign Correspondents’ Club with Lord Jeffrey Archer – a story teller, a politician, an orator and a phoenix that keeps resurrecting. I first met Mr. Jeffrey Archer at a book-signing event, next to the Prince of Wales Pub, at Sung Hung Kai Centre, Hong Kong in September 1994; and he has hardly changed physically since then. He is just as sprightly and open and vocal.

This time he’d arrived at end of March in Hong Kong soon after his exhaustive travelling, book signing and talks in Canada and the United States.

The latest of his 14 books, A Prisoner of Birth, another prison caper, rose to No.1 and became a bester-seller in 3 days, became also No. 1 in SCMP. The inspiration for his title and the book is based on the convicts he met in prison. A Prisoner of Birth is a story about a man who is wrongly accused for the murder of his best friend and is sent to a high-security prison-Belmarsh in south-east London, the same prison where Lord Archer convicted of perjury in 2001 spent the first three weeks of his two years behind bars.

He guessed many of us assembled there were writers and as such were possibly interested in how and when he writes. When writing he goes to his holiday home in Spain (and this is only for millionaire writers amongst us). The place affords him quiet space for writing, his needs are well met, and not having to cook and clean and look after children affords him the peace he seeks. He wakes at five am, and starts writing at five thirty. He uses a felt tipped pen and writes in batches of two hours with two hour breaks in between. It is not unusual for writer to go through his draft 17 to 20 or more times, he said. He always believed he could not write without absolute silence and mostly manages 100,000 words a year.

But while in prison he wrote a million words. He was constantly bombarded with ear-splitting noise from both sides of his prison room, loud reggae music from boom boxes; and endless swearing. He came up with three volumes named after Dante’s Divine Comedy, Belmarsh: Hell, Wayland: Purgatory, and North Sea Camp: Heaven. All three published to critical acclaim. He said he never swore in prison, and within three months, 95% of the prisoners, maybe more, never swore when they were with him.

He spoke fluidly. Q&A mainly focused on politics of Britain and USA. He answered questions candidly with a huge sense of humour. Questions were good too; nobody made long speeches before asking convoluted questions.

Lord Archer is a great admirer of Blair and Obama. Blair, he said, was one of Britain’s great prime ministers with flair and charisma. He referred to Obama’s speech on race relations and compared it with Lincoln’s on slavery and Kennedy’s on segregation.

One questioner wanted to know if Britain had forgotten Hong Kong. He said Britain had not. Britain was not interfering but giving Hong Kong plenty of leeway and watching it very carefully. He also said he was surprised by the amount of love and respect Hong Kong had for Britain, and especially for our last governor, Chris Patten.

He ended his talk by saying there are many very good writers but for every thousand good writers there is only one story teller. With this he asked to be excused to read a piece of writing. No, he did not read from his book but read an anonymous piece. First author, I have known, who read but not from his book! No self promotion here, none needed.

A Somerset Maugham’s retelling of an old story, anonymous, which appeared as an epigraph to John O’Hara’s book…

Appointment in Samarra

A merchant in Baghdad sends his servant to the marketplace for provisions. Shortly, the servant comes home white and trembling and tells him that in the marketplace he was jostled by a woman, whom he recognized as Death, and she made a threatening gesture. Borrowing the merchant’s horse, he flees at top speed to Samarra, a distance of about 75 miles (125 km), where he believes Death will not find him. The merchant then goes to the marketplace and finds Death, and asks why she made the threatening gesture. She replies, “That was not a threatening gesture, it was only a start of surprise. I was astonished to see him in Baghdad, for I had an appointment with him tonight in Samarra.”

A Lamma Book Signing

Sunday. Ferry arrives and a mass of people emerges, fans out from Yung Shue Wan pier. Human tentacles spread, move into main street, slide up side streets and paths and into hives of homes, exploring. The more vigorous, armed with sticks and water bottles and hatted, veer off. They strip outer layers of clothing, too hot for December sun on their backs. They hike across the island, over the hump and head to Sok Kwu Wan, focused on seafood lunch. Fish, prawns, crabs, lobsters and sea creatures frantically wait, swimming in no-escape aquariums.

Overnighters study holiday chalet window vacancy notices.

City people seeking crucial country experience photograph dogs with their mobile phones. Many stop to admire and pat them. Free and business-like dusty dogs are everywhere: in the streets, in the alleys, in the restaurants, running back and forth quenching their thirst from plastic bowls set out by dog-loving shop owners. Other dogs, lap dogs, sophisticated and on expensive leashes, heads held high, lead owners through the crowd. The dogs, those island dogs, they have seen it all before.

Bicyclists, Lamma belongers, impatiently ringing bells, pedal past, avoid hitting the throng. Narrow trucks, on roads narrow, carry stone cement and steel rods to pile more homes upon homes. Mini-ambulances and mini-fire trucks pass by, keep watch. Policemen on bicycles greet Kailash Vernon, Gung the Zine, and Nick the Bookman, long beard lifted by breeze.

Trendy artists, photographers, writers and Da-da duos frequent bars, restaurants, craft shops and pavement cafes. Spicy Island, Deli Lamma, Island Bar, Banyan Bay, Bookworm and Just Green.

Shopkeepers wait, try on ideas, catch browsers with attitude, talk them into buying nothing needed – clothes on racks, casual and neglected chic, organic foods, potpourri, handicraft, candles and oils essential.

Town dwellers seek an alternate style, connect to their soul.

End of day. Visitors, having found themselves, leave. They thread their tired way like a sad song towards the pier and home. The last ferry moves away, diminished enthusiasm.

Lammaites, islanders who stayed solid, pulsing, dreading, waiting, through the day, now affectionately settle back, their lives returned.

Sun sets.

High tide rhythmic, no stars, was there a moon?

Old friendships renewed, new island friends made, Floating Petals signed.

Thank you, Sharon and Dan.

Soul Spirit Gone North

Shangri-la suite 1911. I meet Marjorie. High tea at Horizon, reserved for exclusive clientele. Large goblets of Red Cabernet sipped. Harbour channel busy with water traffic. A pleasantly peopled walk along Hong Kong Avenue of Stars, honoured handprints. We dine at Don Juan along the waterfront. Filipino waitress courteous, recommends exotic ‘Mojito’, drink of rum, lime, mint. Handsome Argentinean chef, ‘Are you ladies all right?’ Recommends spinach burritos, vegetarian, beef stock hidden in rice. We delay our good-bye. Chat of this and that, of immigrant horrors, Chicago slaughter houses. A red sailing junk floats by. Marjie soon leaves for Quanzhou.

And Let There Be No Light

And Let There Be No Light.

City of Lights, a name we have claimed for ourselves in a region of power shortages, outages and brown-outs. Hong Kong has the highest number of neon lights in the region.

It is said August 8, the double 8s, of 2006 has been slated for light-out.

City of Darkness. Let’s do it.

Switch off all the lights except the essential ones, those needed for hospitals, traffic, air-control. Turn off the “neons.” Off with the lights in restaurants, offices, and homes. Yes, let’s plunge this polluted island into darkness for 5 to 10 minutes at sunset.

Drastic measure, drastic situation.

Yesterday, late afternoon, a huge pall of fog came up from the sea and obliterated the mountains of New Territory before moving in to blot out Central, Wan Chai, and Causeway Bay, bringing dusk too early, causing alarm.

People walk around wearing masks or with hands over their noses and mouths. News readers tell us not to our allow children out of class rooms, and the elderly and the sick are told not to go out of their homes. Hospitals fully occupied, doctors overworked, waiting rooms overflow. Children, lethargic, sit around in adult clinics, no room at the paediatrician. Sounds like science fiction, but science fiction it is not. It is Hong Kong in the throes of unprecedented pollution.

“Oh, what can we do,” say the politicians, wringing their manicured hands.
“The tourists won’t be coming to fill our coffers.” How illogical, how thoughtless! Can we first make sure our citizens are healthy before worrying about the tourists? Dead citizens cannot be there to receive them when the tourists decide to come.

Let us not take heart in the fact that other cities of the world are more polluted. Neither does it help us when we lie to ourselves by setting standards different from international ones, to measure low when moderate, moderate when high or severe.

Hong Kong is an island but pollution is not. Improving our air quality lies not only with us but also with our neighbours. Our own pollution constitutes about 30 % and the rest, that affects us, is from our immediate neighbours. To the north of us lies the vast continent, our mother-land. The regional air now is so heavy with pollutants that prevailing winds do not disperse our emissions any more. Let us not waste time and energy in blame. The authorities of all neighbouring regions must get together and sort this out, and now.

Let the silent and dark protest begin. Let us switch off the lights on August 8.

Pet Dogs and Strays

Hong Kongers are great dog lovers. To many, dogs are nearly human, they love them and care for them and spend much time with them. There are also others who want to own pets and so choose to reside in the country side; that is in villages in the New Territories. They have exacting careers and put in long working hours with little time for themselves or their pets. Love and passion come in small doses mainly on week ends. Often their dogs are left in the care of maids who are employed to do household chores; and not to take dogs for long walks, bath and feed them and pick up poo after them.

Some dogs are left unattended either inside the homes, in balconies, or on roof tops. In the village where we live one neighbour left their five dogs on small balcony while they went to work, and overwork, and often came home close to midnight. The dogs barked all day. Most dog owners or their maids pay no attention when their dogs bark incessantly day and night.

There are also many inconsiderate neighbours who walk their dogs. They carry newspapers and plastic bags and look as if they are intent on cleaning up after their dogs. These pet lovers are happy to keep their homes and gardens clean and walk their dogs to someone else’s gate or path or parking lot and allow their pets to urinate and defecate. When their dogs have done their business the owners or maids delicately walk away with their precious pets and their newspapers and plastic bags.

Some dogs are left loose and vicious day and night. They spend their day having much fun attacking passers by and by night running wild with packs.

The problem of stray dogs is further aggravated by people who believe they are doing good, getting merit points in dog heaven, by going round their villages leaving large amounts of food for dogs. This practice not only feeds the dogs, tame and wild, but also encourages a large population of well fed rats.

Calling the Agricultural and Fisheries department to alert them of wild dog situation is a fun process; one is sent from one department to another until one comes back to the first person spoken to. One fine day the dog catchers did arrive in our village. Since I called them and they had my address they came, in their van, to a screeching halt outside my home, several men jumped out exceedingly noisily. One pulled out a large butterfly net while the others whipped out their mobile phones to check out the autheticity of the report made and the exact location. The three wild dogs that were resting outside my gate slunk away from right under their noses and right before their eyes. I admire the men’s style but not their dog-catching skills.

We still have a huge nuisance of barking dogs, dog poo in our parking lot, and the wild pack has now increased to seven.

Audio Books

I am a huge audio books fan, make them unabridged, please. It is the tradition of listening to a wandering minstrel, listening to the story teller syndrome.

“Deep reading really demands the inner ear as well as the outer ear,” said Harold Bloom, the literary critic. “You need the whole cognitive process, that part of you which is open to wisdom. You need the text in front of you.”

Very true, I do smell, touch, wipe off the dust and read the book. Then I listen to the audio version except for John Grisham. I do not read him. I listen to him when I jog, having run the same route 10 times I stop listening to the birds and the bees and to switch John G.

When it comes to readers I prefer experienced trained voices. One has to be careful about writers reading their own work. With the exception of a few writers most tend to drone on a bit. Why spoil a good book just because the author thinks he or she can read.

Listen to Patrick Suskind’s Perfume read by Sean Barrett. Jeremy Irons is brilliant with his rendition of “Lolita”. You don’t have to worry about trying to pronounce those wonderful Russian names in “Crime and Punishment”. Let someone else read to you.

Writers who can write well and read to you with an inner passion are rare. Amongst those who can do this is Toni Morrison. She reads her work with passion and colour, so beautifully African-American. Listen to John le Carre read his “The Tailor of Panama”; so Latin- American, so English, and so Scottish. You can’t but be transported to his places and intrigues.
I fell in love again with Wales and the Welsh with Dylan Thomas’ reading of his “A Child’s Christmas in Wales”.

Don’t listen to Dean Koontz’s “Intensity” when you are alone at night. You just might end up with cardiac arrest when a mosquito buzzes by, the merest disturbance will make you jump out of your skin.

It is indeed relaxing to listen to audio books when going to bed. I listen to Sogyal Rinpoche’s “The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying” in bed. Not only am I relaxed, but I am also ready in case I wake up the next morning and find I am dead.

Now I am off to buy that Ipod. I hear there are some free downloads of audio books. Right now it is a little cumbersome changing the batteries of that CD walkman strapped to my hips. Those dish washing rubber gloves get in the way.

PS: I am a frequent visitor to the HK Central Library and it gives me much pleasure to see young children walking out loaded with audio books. Years ago I used to read and tape stories for my daughter when I could not be with her at bed times.

From Jane Cooper:

My four children regularly listen to books while they are playing with Lego or dolls, or painting. I think that hearing complex words rather than just seeing them on the page is wonderful, and have noticed enrichment in their vocabularies as they incorporate these new words and concepts into their everyday lives. They read massively as well, besides the additional opportunity for them to gain exposure to story telling.

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History has its versions

The destructive protests and vandalism against Japanese property in China certainly seem to have had some go-head from the authorities. Correspondents say the scale of the disturbances is unusual for China, and indicates tacit official support for the protesters. A country that suppresses every little whisper of protest has allowed thousands to gather, scream their heads off, vandalise property and be seen having fun doing it all before the cameras; and all in the name of patriotism. One should now seriously wonder if a wasps’ nest has not been disturbed. The crazed behaviour of thousands of people this month will surely come back to haunt China in the future in one form or another. The masses have tasted “protest freedom.”

Facts seen by the “patriotic” doer and the facts seen by the ones done by vary. The “invaders” of Americas have their version and the native North and South Americans have their version. Australians have their version and the Aborigines theirs. Invaders and colonists in Africa have done their bit. America and Agent Orange have done it to Vietnam. Have Hiroshima and Nagasaki been forgotten, or the Khmer Rouge and the killing fields Cambodia? How accurately are these portrayed in the history books? Every warring and colonising power has committed atrocities and certainly glossed over or omitted the truth. The ones who suffered and the ones who died know the truth.

A few thousand of the Chinese protestors know the war atrocities, fewer have read the “history books” they are going hoarse about, and even fewer know what Japan is all about except for the Japanese technology and culture and the nouvelle cuisine they enjoy. Boycotting Japanese goods in any country is merely a matter of cutting one’s nose off to spite one’s face. And where else but in he East do we know more about “saving face”?

China’s mantra to criticisms or comments by anyone outside China is: “Don’t interfere in our internal affairs.” But it only applies to China. She is allowed to voice her opinion of other countries and governments and tell them what to do and not do and in many cases even bully neutral countries to turn against others who do not kowtow to her.

Visits by politicians to the Yasukuni Shrine have been condemned by China and its neighbours. Built in 1879 during the Meiji period, the shrine houses more than two and half million memorial tablets of revered samurai and soldiers who gave their lives to social freedom, democracy, and human rights. The sacrifices show the love for their families, their race and their nation. The Shinto religion is very complex. Shinto Kami pays a great deal of reverence to the dead and its edict does not allow tablets to be moved. According to Shinto there is not a single existence that serves no purpose and considers the work of all things spiritual.

Comfort women! Having experienced so much pain and shame in this matter, the energy vented in what happened in the past could be put to better use. Help with the current situation, prevent the kidnapping of thousands of girls the world over, especially in Africa, for the sex trade and to “comfort” the soldiers in many wars around the world.

Has China written its new history books? Think of the thousands who were “gloriously made to sacrifice” their lives to famine during the Mao era. The Cultural Revolution and culture cleansing by the Communists deprived China of philosophers, authors, poets, artists and teachers. They and their families were made to go through much degradation and suffering. They were tortured and killed. Historical sites were completely destroyed. And then there was the Tiananmen “incident.”

What are the Chinese history books saying about the horrors committed by the PLA soldiers in Tibet? They imprisoned and tortured Buddhist nuns and monks. They defaced and desecrated sacred relics and ancient tankas. They tore down monasteries. Confused peasants were locked up and tortured for displaying pictures of the Dalai Lama in their homes which were no more than shacks.

I guess we can now look forward to apologies and large compensations from China for these atrocities. It may have to be after this current cleansed generation relearns and pieces together its past and earns the tourist dollar. Get on with that “peace study” so that the future generation will never repeat the same mistake the old Japan made 60 years ago. Waste no time looking for revenge and compensation. The present is the future.

Japanese soldiers carried out inhumane acts and killed and maimed millions in their misguided faith in uniting the East against the West. There is no doubt in anyone’s mind, not even the present Japanese population. that Japan continues to make more formal apologies, give financial aid, and compensation. And why should Japan not have a place in the UN security council? She is the second largest financial contributor. It is time now, as Tokyo said, to sit down, study the joint history and come to a reasonable compromise. Both Japan and China, the two rising powers, need each other as good neighbours and trade partners and for the stability of the rest of Asia.

The Chinese character for “human being ” is composed of two strokes. “Ren” cannot exist with one stroke, it needs the other.