We were standing on deck all this time to watch the activities that were unfolding while the ship was entering port and preparing to drop anchor. It was a busy port congested with cargo ships and other service vessels trying eagerly to get their job done. It was noisy not just because people were shouting orders as part of their job requirement but also because boats were constantly blowing their horns as they zigzagged impatiently amidst the flotilla of vessels. While our ship was maneuvering into position to drop anchor, we could see a large number of boats big and small waiting in line around our ship like the racing dogs in Macau ready to pounce as the gate opened.
Time is money and this statement was and is still particularly true within the Hong Kong context. Barely had the anchor reached bottom that the waiting vessels were quickly accosting the sides of our ship. The port people, the immigration people and a host of other servicing people were fast ready to climb the gangway to get on board. The ship crew was no less inferior in any respect as they busily put into motion their routine to unload the cargo. No time was lost, no time was wasted, that was the way Hong Kong people run their lives then and now.
The weather was cool as it was winter in Hong Kong and I could feel a little chill. My island Mauritius being situated in the southern hemisphere had the opposite weather, we were in full summer. We waited quite a while before we were allowed to make any move, just wondering if the port officials were busy working first on First Class Passengers.
I went down to my cabin to wait for my brother-in-law whom my father had written earlier with details of my voyage. Soon we received the green light to disembark and the small corridor leading to our cabin started to get crowded and noisy as everybody rushed to get off the ship. Unlike with modern day cruising as we know it, every passenger in our class had to take care of his or her own luggage and belonging. So there was a lot of pushing and shouting as “coolies” came on board to help passengers with their luggage. Coolies, a term originated from India, were very common in Hong Kong and other South Asian Countries then. They were unskilled labourers hired to carry heavy loads, their only helping tools were their muscles and a bamboo pole dangled over their shoulder with the loads tied with ropes hanging at both ends.
Coolies are unskilled labourers hired to carry heavy loads. Very popular in Hong Kong and other South East Asian Countries in the 60’s
Then I recognized my brother-in-law from earlier photo as he wiggled his way through the corridor. I never met him before, this was the first time. I shouted in Chinese “Brother-in-law” and not by his first name as Chinese etiquette required and still requires that we address our “elders” by title rather than by name. If we had multiple uncles, we would call them “First Uncle”, “Second Uncle” and so on. My brother-in-law with a broad smile on his face called me back by my Chinese name “Chin Woon” but added “Kiu” at the end. “Kiu” means uncle on the mother side. My nephews and nieces would call me “Ah Kiu” or “Uncle” as I am a brother of their mother. By custom my brother-in-law could have simply called me by my Chinese name “Chin Woon” but he chose to call me “Chin Woon Kiu”. This is a very common Chinese way of address when there is a lot of affection, warmth and respect between the two parties. I smiled back. If we had met today we would have given each other a long hug but back then it would be very un-Chinese, a double-hand shake was the correct etiquette.
My brother-in-law then promptly instructed two coolies he had brought along to carry my belongings, among which I remember clearly was a large tin container one foot by one foot and a foot and a half in height. I never ever saw one again. When I was growing up in my parents’ small corner shop we would buy crackers wholesale secured in this large tin container and sell them retail, one cracker at a time, to the consumer. My tin container was filled earlier before I left home at the insistence of my mother not with crackers but our world renowned Mauritius fine sugar as a visiting gift.
We quickly passed immigration and my passport was stamped, reading as follows:
Arrived by M.V. “RUYS”, The Director of Immigration permits the holder to enter Hong Kong dated Feb 9, 1966.
The Director of Immigration permitted me to land in Hong Kong on Feb 9, 1966
We made our descent by way of a long gangway running along side the ship down to a floating deck from where we hopped into a small “sampan” hired by my brother-in-law for our exclusive use. The water was choppy and the gangway swayed slightly with the rhythm of the waves. Walking down the gangway was quite scary and unfit for the faint of heart. As the sampan steered toward shore I turned around to look with a bit of melancholy at the towering giant that had brought me here from across the Indian Ocean and The South China Sea. I did not know that I was looking at the M V “Ruys” for the last time.
The Kowloon Peninsula looking across from the main island of Hong Kong. In between is the Hong Kong Victoria Harbour. This picture is Now and the tall buildings shooting into the sky were not there then.