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An Unlikely Activist

Vivian Leung – the Hong Kong housewife who took on the government.

Reporter: Sandy Ho Yuen-ki

Chairperson of the Lung Fu Shan Environmental Concern Group, founder of the Hong Kong Breastfeeding Mothers’ Association, active member of a parent-teachers’ association, member of the owners’ committee of her apartment block, owner of a passion fruit farm in Guangdong – these are just some of the many roles of Vivian Leung Tai Yuet-kam.

Leung, aged 48, is not the scion of any leading Hong Kong family, nor a high-powered professional or learned academic. In fact, she left school in Guangdong and came to Hong Kong at the age of 14. After the birth of her two children, her primary role was full-time mother and homemaker.

But it is her most recent role as an activist working to protect the environment of Lung Fu Shan that has attracted the most attention. Lung Fu Shan is an urban oasis on the slope at the back of the University of Hong Kong. Along with its surrounding area, it was designated as Hong Kong’s smallest and newest country park in 1998.

Leung was one of the many walkers who enjoyed the area’s peace and tranquillity. Then, in 2007, she noticed the historic granite surface along Pik Shan Path on Lung Fu Shan had been covered by a concrete road.

Leung saw this as an urban encroachment but the district council claimed the work had been done to solve minor flooding during heavy rain. Leung found this explanation unacceptable. She believed water-logging problems could be solved with improved pipes instead of a concrete layer on top of an historic path.

Leung drew up a petition and on October 14, 2007, she set off for Pik Shan Path on her own. There she asked walkers to sign her petition and a campaign was born.

It has been an uphill struggle. More and more construction projects kept being unveiled, including the erection of unsightly railings and fences along Old Peak Road and Hatton Road.

Leung sees the railings as more than eyesores that damage the environment; she sees them as an intrusion on freedom in Hong Kong. “They build railings alongside almost everything. They block the grass, the trees and even the benches,” says Leung. “Also, the railings constructed by the government are standardized and ugly; they simply do not match the environment and spoil nature.”

Born to Dance

Hong Kong’s leading ballerina shares her thoughts on life, love and the highly competitive word of ballet

Reporter: Dora Chiu

Jin Yao, dressed in black sweatpants, a simple T-shirt and a black hoodie, is taking a break from rehearsals. Her feet are cocooned in a pair of huge down slippers. But, despite the casual attire, her ballerina credentials are immediately obvious in her elegant poise, her slender, long neck and limbs.

Dance is in Jin’s blood. Both of her parents were professional dancers. They know how hard a dancer’s life can be: brutally competitive, physically gruelling and mentally demanding. So they were wary of letting their daughter follow in their footsteps.

Still, the young Jin took a keen interest in dance. From the age of seven she joined the amateur dance classes her mother taught in Jilin. Even then, the girl’s talent was clear; just by imitation, she could execute the steps that her mother’s students could not do.

Although her parents were aware she had the athleticism, musicality and innate agility needed to become a professional dancer, they were still hesitant about allowing her to follow their path. They hid the application forms for the Beijing Dance Academy away from the young Jin.

Jin says she found them in drawer quite by accident. In the end, her parents relented and allowed her to audition for the academy, China’s leading dance institute.

Jin was nine when she auditioned and her performance won her a place. Now she had to decide whether to choose folk dance or ballet. In the end, Jin picked ballet because she liked the beauty and elegance of classical ballet.

She started studying dance at the academy at the age of 10 and graduated seven years later, joining the National Ballet of China. She was promoted to principal dancer in 2003 and was later ranked a top-grade China National Dancer.

Despite a promising career in the National Ballet, Jin decided to join The Hong Kong Ballet as senior soloist in 2004. Jin wanted to explore more possibilities in her dancing and see things from a broader perspective. She could see there were big differences between the arts world in the mainland and in Hong Kong.

Jin says a wider repertoire is performed in Hong Kong because audiences here can truly appreciate art. “Hong Kong people are more westernized and willing to accept different values,” she says.

In comparison, the focus in the mainland is mainly on ticket sales. Only famous and bankable programmes like Swan Lake and The Nutcracker are performed there. Dancers rarely have the opportunity to try performing other works, and this limits their talent and exposure.

Islamic Culture in Hong Kong

Text: Liz Yuen, Gienne Lee and Krizto Chan

Photos: Liz Yuen, Samuel Chan, Elizabeth Cheung


Step in Their Shoes This Christmas

Understand the life of disadvantaged and dispossessed by living them – for 60 minutes

Reporter: Liz Yuen

What does Christmas mean to you? Perhaps it is having Christmas dinner with family members? Gathering with friends in your warm and cosy home? Going to Midnight Mass? You have the freedom to enjoy any of these rituals, but for refugees every day—even Christmas Day—can be a struggle to get through. For those in refugee camps, Christmas Day is just another day of hardship and suffering. Guarded by soldiers 24-7, they may have to mind every single word and action.

Living in a safe and affluent society like Hong Kong, it may be hard to imagine the lives of refugees. At Crossroads, you can get some firsthand experience by joining a simulation called “Refugee Run”.

Crossroads is a non-profit organisation which delivers quality excess goods collected in Hong Kong to poverty-stricken or disaster-stricken areas. It also organises simulations to make people aware of critical global issues.
Chan Nok Ka, a second year student from the Chinese University of Hong Kong participated in Refugee Run earlier this year.

Chan says it has made her more aware of wider issues. ”You wouldn’t otherwise think about what the solutions might be for these problems,” she says. People of all ages can join in the simulation and come up with ideas to help the displaced, she adds.

Apart from Refugee Run, Crossroads also stages Global X-perience simulations on a range of issues from HIV/AIDS to blindness.

These simulations can last from an hour to a couple of days. Most people choose to undergo a 60-minute experience but even this is enough to make a strong impact on participants.

Chan King-lok, who worked as an intern at Crossroads last year, describes one of the 60-minute X-periences as “a real eye-opener”.

It was set in the Indian city of Mumbai and participants experienced the lives of poor families who scrape by on the meagre income earned from making paper bags. “We were divided into groups of four and were given an unreasonably short time limit to meet the target [for making paper bags],” says Chan. “Since failing to meet the target means losing someone in your group, everyone worked really hard and some even snatched the finished paper bags from other groups.”

But when the allotted time was up, the person acting the role of the superior tore up all the paper bags the participants had given to him. “I was on the verge of tears when I saw that!” Chan recalls, adding that he felt for the first time how helpless the lives of others could be.

Chan says Crossroads managed to successfully create a tense atmosphere that made a lasting impact on the participants.

Christmas is not just a season for eating, drinking and making merry. It is also a time to share our love and care. This Christmas why not let Crossroads give you the gift of insight into and empathy for the plight of others from around the world? This Christmas, let us cherish what we have.

Punch Your Own Pick

Reporter: Joyce Lee

If you’ve ever wondered what to do with the thick wad of expired cards in your wallet, the Pickmaster Plectrum could provide an answer.

The Pickmaster is a portable punch that allows you to make guitar picks out of any plastic – credit cards, membership cards, CDs – basically any piece of thin plastic that you can find. This gadget cannot be easier to use. It works the same way as a standard hole punch. Simply slide an old card into the Pickmaster and press down. The useless plastic card has found a new lease of life – as a plectrum.

Not being able to find a pick just when you need one has always been a nuisance to guitar players. There is no need to root around under your drawers anymore. With the help of Pickmaster, a plectrum is always within reach. Where there is thin plastic, there is a guitar pick.

All the plectrums made will be in the traditional “351” shape. This ensures that everyone will be comfortable holding them. You can tailor-make a pick of the perfect thickness you like, as the Pickmaster is strong enough to punch through almost any thickness of plastic.

Why throw your money away on picks when you can make your own cheaper and more environmentally-friendly version? A plectrum costs around $8 each in stores nowadays. You can make up to five picks out of a single card. With a few uses, the gadget will have paid for itself. It is time to say goodbye to those fancy ivory plectrums and go green. Recycling is good for Mother Earth and easy on your wallet.

The Pickmaster also brings out your creativity. What could be cooler than having an original guitar pick of your own? Make it unique by choosing a card with your name or photo.

If you find the edges of the picks made from the Pickmaster rougher than shop-bought ones, just use a nail file to smooth the edges. The picks will then be flawless.

The Pickmaster is a fun and practical gift for guitar enthusiasts. It is also the perfect way to revive your dead cards.

The Pickmaster costs around US$25. Google “Pickmaster Plectrum” and order online.

Watch how the Pickmaster works on YouTube: Search “Making guitar picks with The Pickmaster Plectrum”.

November 2011 – Orienting Orientation

University orientation camps, or o’camps, in Hong Kong have come under scrutiny in recent years. Media coverage concentrates on shock stories of sexual impropriety and ‘obscene’ games. But for most students, o’camp is an unforgettable experience, an introduction to university life and the place where friendships are made. Varsity takes a closer and more comprehensive look at the o’camp phenomenon:

Hong Kong’s o’camps down the ages – a look at how o’camps have changed over time and what it tells us about our society

Why the media is obsessed with negative stories about o’camps and the reasons for the ‘offensive’ games students play

What makes Hong Kong’s o’camps so distinctively Hong Kong? How do they compare with orientation activities in other places?

Varsity November 2011 – Editor’s Note

Orientation or Disorientation?

Orientation camps, or o’camps in Hong Kong’s universities are much more than orientation programmes. Over the years, they have become almost like rituals. Among university students, they are both feared and celebrated. Outside of the campuses, some immediately associate o’camps with the obscene and sometimes offensive games that get a fair amount of media coverage every year. As insiders, we are well aware that such elements do exist in o’camps, but thre is more to o’camps than the coverage suggests.

That is why this issue of Varsity features an insider’s guide to local university orientation programmes in the Periscope section. We look at how o’camp has evolved into what it is today, what the fuss is all about and is it misplaced? We also look at what makes up orientation week with Hong Kong characteristics.

Challenging the stereotype of university orientation presented by mainstream media, we wish to go beyond the superficial and find out what university o’camp can tell us about our society, values, education and popular culture.

The November issue also features profiles of two homegrown journalists working in the international arena. Winner of this year’s World Press Photo award and veteran Associated Press photojournalist Vincent Yu shares with Varsity his experiences as a news agency photographer and his vision for photojournalism. The CCTV reporter Sze Ho-wai, who was taken hostage with dozens of foreign correspondents in a hotel during the rebels’ siege of Tripoli in Libya, recounts what it was like being an accidental war journalist.

Happy reading!

 

 

 

 

 

Samuel Chan
Editor-in-Chief

 

The Good O days

How o’camp culture has changed and evolved with the times.

Reporters: Joana U and Stephanie Chan

Mention o’camps, or university orientation camps, in Hong Kong today and people might think of sexually suggestive games or groups of identically clad youngsters acting like cheerleaders in the heart of the city. But for Alfred Hau Wun-fai and his friend Au Yuet-ching, o’camp brings back memories of romantic midnight boat-rides across a tranquil lake in the 1960s.

Fast forward to the 1970s and the scene changes again, with students singing their college anthem and songs of the Chinese resistance against Japanese aggression and hotly debating the Cultural Revolution taking place on the mainland.

The nature of Hong Kong’s o’camps changed with developments in Hong Kong society itself and reflects changing expectations of the role of university students in society.

Au Yuet-ching and Alfred Hau in 2011

Alfred Hau joined the Chung Chi College (Chinese University of Hong Kong, or CUHK) o’camp in 1968 as a Geography major, while Au Yuet-ching was a Sociology freshman. It was a big event, a time to meet new friends and adapt to university life.

“Everyone joined, and so did I,” says Hau. He and Au are more than happy to recall their “‘antique”’ memories. They remind one another of episodes from the event and chuckle over them.

Hau says there were not many facilities on the campus in those days. They spent most of the o’camp in a stadium where games were held. Hau said that physical tests, such as running, were the most demanding. The students were also organized into teams which had to stage performances. This was the most unforgettable activity for him.

“At that time, most university students came from a number of elite secondary schools, so we [freshmen] were very united…we did not compete with each other at all,” say Hau.

Hau explains that students always shouted “cheers” to show appreciation of their fellow performers. This is unlike the slogans and rhymes, referred to as “dem beat” or “demonstration of beats” of today. Instead of appreciation, these contemporary rhymes may include personal attacks on the physical appearance or characters of members of other groups.

As for the nocturnal boating, Hau says rowing across the Tolo Harbour was a must-do and significant activity in the o’camp of the 60’s. A boy and a girl had to row on one boat as partners as it was deemed to be too dangerous and strenuous for two girls to row together. “Many lovers may begin like this,” says Au, grinning.

What’s Wrong with O’camp?

Exploring the media’s fascination with O’camp. Uncovering reasons behind “offensive” activities.

By Charlie Leung and Jennifer Xu

Another summer, another batch of racy headlines about activities related to orientation camps or o’camps of Hong Kong’s universities. From Apple Daily, there is “Stocking Seductions of Chinese University Male Students”, and from its biggest rival, Oriental Daily, there is “Obscene Short Videos Emerge from O’camps Again”.

O’camps are arranged by students for students to introduce freshmen to university life, help them settle in and to make friends. Since the infamous “New Asia Sauna” incident in 2002, when students from Shaw College in the Chinese University of Hong Kong (CUHK) displayed banners suggesting that female students from New Asia College were sex workers, there has been intense media scrutiny of o’camp games and activities.

The coverage is overwhelmingly negative and focuses on what are considered to be inappropriate and offensive games which challenge prevailing social mores. But is it true that the students who organise and take part in these activities are crossing a line?

Lee Ka-yiu, a group leader, common known as Jo ma (group mum), of this year’s orientation camp in the Faculty of Engineering at CUHK describes a game which some might find inappropriate. A boy would sit in front of a girl with a biscuit stick in his mouth. The girl was then asked to do sit-ups in order to reach and take a bite out of the biscuit stick. The team to end up with the shortest biscuit would win.

“Some teams literarily kissed during the game. I was shocked and felt embarrassed about it, but they [the kissing team] are perfectly fine with it,” Lee exclaims.

There were other similar games, for instance where a boy and a girl were asked to “share” an apple which was hung from above them, without using their hands.

“Sometimes they [students] don’t even know they have crossed the line,” notes Lee. It is a matter of debate whether such games are inappropriate but they are just one example of the kinds of activities some people might find offensive. In August, Face magazine reported on violent games during one of the o’camps at City University of Hong Kong.

According to the report, freshmen were forced to participate in pillow fights during which girls sat on the backs of boys and fought against each other.

Ryan Cheung, who participated in the orientation camp at Hong Kong Polytechnic University (PolyU) in 2008, witnessed his friend being slapped about with pillows and crying for 15 minutes afterwards.

Cheung explains it was part of a game they played, in which they were blindfolded and required to answer personal questions, such as: do you have a girlfriend? Have you ever watched porn? If the participant failed to answer, he/she would be hit with a pillow.

Cheung understands the purpose of the game was to encourage students to accept a new culture, but he says not everyone is fine with this kind of “special education”.

Dr Edwin Chan Ho-yin, the chairman of the Joint Committee on New Student Orientation (JCNSO) at CUHK, admits it is difficult to ask the student organisation committees (OCs) to change the types of games organized in the camp, as members of the OC enjoyed these same games when they were freshmen. It is hard for them to understand why others might not want to participate in some of the games.

Dr Chan says the JCNSO, which is comprised of faculty and student representatives, has received feedback from freshmen, which shows that over half of the students feel comfortable with the activities, but that some found the o’camp activities meaningless and unacceptable.

Orientation Week, Hong Kong Style

What orientation programmes tell us about different cultures

Reporters: Sandy Ho and Gavin Li

You might have come across groups of young people wearing identical T-shirts hurrying down busy streets in bustling city centres before. You may even have seen them mimicking the people on the treadmills in a fitness centre across the street on a busy footbridge in Wan Chai, or shouting “wow” in Causeway Bay’s Times Square for no apparent reason at all.

These fresh-faced youngsters are in fact university freshmen striving to complete various tasks and beat their fellows in a game called “city hunt”, a highlight of university orientation camps, commonly known as “o’camp”, in Hong Kong.

“I think it’s really fun to go around Hong Kong with a group of new friends. Some groupmates know a place better and the others are more familiar with somewhere else. [By] cooperating closely with each other, I feel a sense of achievement [when I see we can finish the task],” says Jessie Kwok Ji-ying, a participant of the orientation camp at Hong Kong Baptist University.

Apart from gaining great satisfaction during the game, Kwok thinks the “city hunt” also helps to develop solidarity and a sense of belonging to the group.

The group that squeezes the most students into the phone booth wins.

Not everyone is pleased with their presence though. “It’s as if I have entered a wet market with people shouting at you to buy fish and vegetables from them. Do they have to do it on the street?” asks passer-by Yeung Suk-ching in Central.

Dr. Edwin Chan Ho-yin, Chairperson of the Joint Committee on New Student Orientation at the Chinese University of Hong Kong (CUHK) thinks students may be so caught up in the moment, they are not aware of other people’s reactions, “Many are happy about being able to get into university, so they might think the world revolves around them and they can just shout slogans on the street and then run away,’’ he says.

While freshmen in Hong Kong build team spirit by playing games that emulate reality TV, their counterparts elsewhere in the world achieve the same goal in their own distinctive ways.

“We have this race on the river. Every major builds their own boat. Two people are gonna sit on the boat with paddles and the whole school is gonna be there, and you wear the T-shirt from your subject,” Swedish student Stina Alpsten says.

“It doesn’t necessarily have to be a boat. It could be anything that could float on water,” her friend Joanna Bergkvist, who is also from Sweden, adds.

In South Korea, freshmen express their excitement in a less public way. Michael Kim Young-woo, a student at Sung Kyun Kwan University in South Korea recalls an activity called “Room Attack” during their orientation camp.

“Every group has their own room. In the night, we have to attack the other room. We grab some Soju, a type of Korean alcohol, and the group captain would sing some songs and introduce himself, and we will have a drinking game with that group all night.”

Kim notes that the drinking games can serve the same function of fostering unity among the students as a “city hunt” does in Hong Kong.

He says there is no reason to play games off campus, as they would not find it fun to do things in front of the public. “I think Korean students don’t like such things. If we do the games outside the campus, other people are gonna see us. If we do that, like showing off my university student status, I think Korean people don’t like it. We have to act humble.”