Monthly Archives: May 2016

1966 – Now that I decided to pass the Colombo Scholarship and to stay in Hong Kong, it was time again to look for a job.

Chinese families always wanted their children to be a doctor, a lawyer or an accountant in that order. Naturally not all kids have the intellectual capability to aspire to one of these professions. Even if they do, circumstances may prevent them from achieving their goals, such as family constraint, financial issues or simply karma.

Becoming a doctor, a lawyer or other professions does not necessarily guarantee you great success in life, though your chance of success may be higher than those without the qualifications. I have seen lawyers struggling in their practice and doctors given up the profession for psychological or other reasons. Education is important and one should never pass the opportunity to study. Interesting to note that many successful people did not have the opportunity to attend proper schooling and that includes Mr. Lee Ka-Shing, one of the richest men in Asia. He was born when China was in chaos and he was deprived of a full education.

To a Chinese family working in a bank was a prestigious matter. So I sent my resume to all the banks in Hong Kong and what I received as reply was disappointing: “Thank you for your application, we are sorry we have no opening at this time. We will let you know if a vacancy presents itself”. The reality was that most jobs were filled through “connections and relationships”, the Chinese call it “guanxi” or “guanshi”. My late mother often mentioned about “guardian angel”, some one that in the course of one’s life would open a door for you. In some way it is much like “guanxi”. I found my guardian angel in Father Germain of the Xavier House, one of the many missionaries that had set foot in China and Hong Kong for over a century. Father Germain had earlier helped my two other friends find a job at Banque Nationale de Paris and Air France respectively.

Three major banks in 1960s Hong Kong side by side, Bank of China, Hong Kong Bank and Chartered Bank. Hilton Hotel is on the left.

One phone call from Father Germain to a Mr. Yao, Personnel Manager at the Banque Nationale de Paris landed me an interview. I took a written and oral test and Mr. Yao was impressed. He further complimented me: “you have a beautiful handwriting”. Mr. Yao wanted to make full use of my knowledge of French and posted me to the Tsim Sha Tsui branch in the busy tourist area of Kowloon. At the branch because I was fluent in English and French, I was treated by my colleagues with some respect in spite of my young age. Not only did I serve many French tourists coming to the branch for money exchange but I came across many French speaking Vietnamese military personnel and businessmen who wanted to keep some of their money at our bank in Hong Kong. South Vietnam was at war with the Viet Cong and what the future held nobody knew. Need to save for the rainy days.

Tsim Sha Tsui the tourist district in Kowloon. The neon light is mesmerizing as it was in 1960s

That was also the time when American soldiers posted in Vietnam spent their recreation in Hong Kong. At any one time there were a couple of U.S. battle ships anchored in the harbour. The American servicemen in Hong Kong probably set the stage for the book “The World of Suzie Wong”.

Hong Kong Harbour 1966

It was also the era when Americans were flocking to Hong Kong to buy custom made suits, among other things, at a fraction of the cost in their country, and delivery was made in 24 hours. Hong Kong people were and are still hard working, innovative and accommodating. “Idle time” was not in their vocabulary; if the tailor had to work through the night to finish the suit, so it would be. Shops were lining Nathan Road in Tsim Sha Tsui, surprisingly owned by many Indian businessmen with Chinese tailors behind the shop front. The Indian businessmen were also busy travelling to major U.S. cities to take measurement of Americans wanting a custom made suit, while other clients would buy a suit through “Mail Order”, sending in the measurement and a cheque. It was a happy and prosperous era for a lot of small shop owners. One Mauritian even found his niche selling decorative items made of jade and ivory to the French tourists under the business name of “Chez Edouard”.

Personally for me it was a golden year. I was young, energetic, confident, single, with a good job in a new fascinating country with seemingly endless potential. I was courting my future wife and very much in love, my first love, it was like a replay of the movie “Love is a many splendoured thing”.

At night Tsim ShaTsui switched focus from an intense business environment to an entertainment mecca. The neon lights turned on, night became day, restaurants filled with noisy patrons and the bars lively with loud music, often with live band made up of artists from the Philippines, to entice the American servicemen as well as other tourists for a drink and more. Today Tsim Sha Tsui has changed a lot and moved upscale, the small shops and bars are long gone and replaced by large department stores, malls and brand name boutiques. I missed my four years in Tsim Sha Tsui.

Numerous bars sprang up in Hong Kong to service the Americans on recreation from Saigon

On the dark side, China started the Cultural Revolution “to rid society of members of the bourgeoisie threatening to seize political power from the proletariat”. 1.7 millions people died. Countless politicians and intellectuals killed. Cultural relics and artifacts destroyed. Red Guards waving their little “Mao Red Book” were threatening to a lot of people in Hong Kong. The Cultural Revolution somewhat spilled into Hong Kong leading to the 1967 Riot, the last straw for many residents who packed up and immigrated to the Americas. Fortunately the instability of Hong Kong did not last too long, apparently at the command of the administration in Beijing. Life was back to normal but the expected return of Hong Kong to China due in 1997 was an ongoing concern. While riding on the ferry and admiring the great many high rises along the Hong Kong shores, one American commented to me: “Look at all these buildings. They will soon belong to China”.

Hong Kong 1967 Riots

Hong Kong shores 1960s with its many high rise buildings

Pro-communist rioters brandishing the Mao Red Books in front of Hong Kong Government House.

Our family home and boutique was very humble. The structure was built at the south west corner of Aleppo Street and Yoloff Street in Port Louis, and formed part of a larger residential complex on a square terrain. Aleppo and Yoloff were paved streets, though not without its expected potholes, in an area that was not a priority of the Municipality. The other two streets that enclosed the terrain were dirt streets that got muddy in rainy weather.

Our stone house had one large room on Aleppo which was our boutique and one room on Yoloff which was our bedroom. Detached from the L-shape structure was a makeshift kitchen with an elevated stone slab on which stood our stone stove, and on the other side was a small concrete slab, our bathroom, from where a small drain led to the main basin outside in the yard. The kitchen-cum-bathroom was very small and an adult could touch the tin ceiling with his hand extended upright. This was where for many an afternoon I helped with starting a fire to make dinner, and where I learned from my sisters and sister-in-law to cook rice, fry fish and prepare the Mauritian “rougaille” (tomato sauce) and “satini” (tomato chutney). Just outside the kitchen we had, sitting on the floor, a rectangular stone slab on which we ground, using a fat stone rolling pin, various ingredients such as onions, garlic, chillies, coriander, coconut, tomato, to make a “satini” or “curry paste”. I knew all these by age nine. Rice cooking, now as easy as abc with the press of a button, was then more complicated and required lot of practice. The rice was cooked in a large pot filled with water to the rim, and when the rice was ready, the extra water was drained, apparently a waste of nutrients.

This was how we cooked dinner in 1960s

Satini Tomato A Local Mauritian Favourite Dish

Stone Grinder Essential In Every Mauritian Family

We had a courtyard, and on hindsight I realized it was really small, just a couple hundred square feet. We were privileged though to have a fence around the courtyard, built with odds and ends pieces of lumber and tin sheets. No other tenants in the complex had any private fenced area. I remember when a cyclone hit the Island our fence always fell flat to the ground and as a small kid I felt uneasy with the sudden openness of the yard, the insecurity of the place and the lack of privacy. Fortunately we always quickly found and paid some hands to reinstate the fence.

The king of our courtyard was our dog, a medium size dog acquired for the sole purpose of enhancing security to our home. We did not walk the dog or take him out for any activity or leisure. He was fed with the dinner leftover and not dog food, but I think he was content to have a place called home. He always remained in the courtyard sitting or sleeping, a good dog, under the small tin canopy that extended from the walls of the structure.

Then we reared a couple of chickens, sometimes they were caged, sometimes they were at liberty to roam the courtyard in search of food, mainly worms from the ground, though we did feed them with maize once a day. Occasionally panic stroke us, when one hen escaped over the fence and we had to chase it all over the neighbourhood. Every afternoon at around four o’clock I would, at the request of mom but mainly for my own curiosity and pleasure, be on standby in the courtyard and waited for the hens to lay their eggs. Sometimes I was too eager to pick the still warm eggs and the hens would not hesitate to show their true colour and fighting stance. Occasionally I saw how hens got intimate. The male chicken, called a cock, always majestic with its head high and proud, would jump and sit on top of the hen, pinching its neck with its beak. It was all over in a few seconds. Interestingly a hen does not need a partner to lay egg, all it needs is sunlight.

The Proud And Majestic Cock

The little plot of land we were able to plant green onions, chilli peppers and chouchou (a type of cucumber) among others. Imagine the extreme pleasure we derived from experiencing the produce as it grew bigger and bigger day by day. The chouchou was the most fascinating as it grows like a grape vine, its tentacles reaching, curling and clinging on to the wire mesh. The chouchou itself has a unique shape, the Chinese call it “hand palm cucumber” due to its resemblance to a pair of clapped hands, and it has all over the body small prickly hairs like an unshaven face. I always felt funny and tickled when holding a chouchou. Other frequent visitors to our courtyard included ants, insects, flies, worms, spiders, birds, lizards, butterfly, centipedes and rats, all of which were mesmerizing to our small eyes. We were also delighted to see small plants and flowers, for no apparent reason, sprung out of the ground, an enhancement to the landscape of the yard.

Chouchou Plant Curling and Clinging To The Wire Mesh

The Hand Clapped Shape Of The Chouchou With Prickly Hairs

Then in the middle of the yard was a stone basin built on the ground, where stood a large rectangular flat stone which our maid used to wash the household clothes everyday. The clothes were hanged to dry on wires fastened across the yard. The basin had its own water tap and a metal drum used to store water. If we were not taking a bath in the kitchen, we boys would be standing by the drum scooping the cool water over our body, somewhat of a quick shower.

Stone Slab Where We Washed Dishes and Clothes

Our Clothes Were Washed On Stone Slabs

There was a small gate which connected us to the other side of the courtyard where we needed to go and use the only washroom in the complex. Eventually we were able to build our own private toilet in the sanctity of our courtyard, a far cry from the public latrine, which many a time I had to be there as the bodyguard for my sisters using the facility at night.

In the yard under the canopy we had a small square table and four long wooden stools, our dining area except when it rained we would move in the bedroom. Hanging above the table was a small square cupboard, short of a refrigerator, to keep food safe from flies, insects, rats and cats. Two sides of the cupboard were wood and the other two sides were mosquito mesh to keep the air circulation.

Like most Chinese, my parents were Buddhist and we had an altar mounted on the wall facing the courtyard. The altar symbolically had two Gods to protect our family, Guan Yin, Goddess of Compassion and Guan Yu, Guardian of Justice. Every night my mother lighted joss sticks and incense and recited the Buddhist verses under the altar.

Most Chinese Families Had An Altar At Home

On Sunday afternoon when the shop was closed, our family often visited our two uncles at their place close to Champ de Mars, their abodes more spacious to entertain all three families. Our house would be locked and deserted, and the courtyard quiet and susceptible to break-in, but our beloved dog never failed in his duty to keep the place safe.

To us small kids the courtyard was a small jungle, a small paradise.