Home Blog Page 113

Hong Kong’s Homeless World Cup Hero

Reporter: Candy Chin

On a football pitch in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, Hong Kong’s diminutive number Seven, coolly receives the ball from his keeper. In a flash he controls it, then swivels and sends a neat volley it into the corner of the England goal. Hong Kong is thrashed in the match, but the 20-year-old striker scores his first two goals of the tournament. He would go on to score another 20, including hat-tricks against Argentina, Greece and Germany.

The player was Wahid Mohammad, a Hong Kong-born Pakistani, and this was the opening match of the Homeless World Cup Tournament held in September. Wahid ended up as Hong Kong’s top scorer and a tournament favourite. Hosts Brazil won the trophy, but Team Hong Kong had reasons to be proud. They managed to boost their world ranking from 40th place to 37th out of 43 teams.

For the team players, this was a great achievement. Players for the Homeless World Cup are recruited from marginalized groups in society, such as the homeless, drug users and problem gamblers. They are put through four months of intensive training and then participate in the annual international tournament.

For Wahid, it has been an eye-opening and life-changing experience. The third of four children, he grew up in Hong Kong and speaks Cantonese, although he cannot read and write Chinese. He attended a school with other ethnic minority students and did not like studying. So he left after taking his Hong Kong Certificate of Education Examinations and started working.

Stitching Back in Time

Reporter:Phoebe Man and Phyllis Lee

The Perfect Mix – Mix Your Own Wine in Central

Reporter: Phyllis Lee Tze-ching

The neighbourhood around Lan Kwai Fong is well known as a place where you can enjoy a glass of wine with your friends but did you know you can also make your own wine there too?

Situated on the sixth floor of a building on Queen’s Road Central, MUST custom winery is a small wine lovers’ paradise. The friendly staff, soothing music, dim lighting and stylish interior makes you feel at ease.

The business was founded by a group of wine lovers in July this year. Their mission is to teach people how to appreciate wine and to let people have a go at making their own wine.

Apart from cabinets full of tidily placed bottles just like any other winery, one side of MUST is lined with the finished bottles of wine made by John Wong and Ed Stengel, the company’s co-founders and winemakers.

More than 40 flavours of wines are offered at the winery and they include reds, whites, rosé and fruit winess. The fruit peel and pulp used to make the wines are imported from wineries across the world.

Different flavours such as pepper and vanilla can enhance the taste of the wine. The winery even providesalso has festive editions of wine, for instance, such as their port which is rich with flavours of fig, plum and chocolate and may bring a lot more of sweetness to Christmas celebrations.

Apart from learning about and tasting the finished products, customers can learn about the various stages of wine making. A custom wine making class usually consists of around 10 students and each class makes roughly 30 bottles of wine. There are two stages to the wine making process.

The first stage is the winemaking session, where students learn how to appreciate wine and make their own wine according to their own preferences. They can alter the taste of their wine by adding dried fruit and adjusting the sweetness, the oak intensity and the percentage of alcohol in their customized wine. This whole process takes only 30-45 minutes. The wine is then left to be fermented.

Four weeks later, the students participate in the bottling session where they make their own labels and shrink tops. The winery provides different kinds of patterned labels on which you can name your very own blend of wine and have customized text on the label.

Wong and Stengel say they decided to start this custom winemaking business because they had not found any similar services in Hong Kong. Wong says they want to teach people how to appreciate wine, especially focusing on the different flavours and tastes of wine so customers can better match the most appropriate wines with specific meals. “We act as a bridge to teach people who do not know how to choose or invest in the most appropriate wine, how to appreciate it in a better manner,” he says.

Wong says many Hong Kong people suffer from a headaches after drinking wine because shop-bought wines contain high levels of sulphites used as preservatives. Wines produced by MUST Custom Winery do not contain any preservatives. This is one of their main selling points but it also means they cannot be stored for too long.

Candace Cheung, a saleswoman in MUST Custom Winery says that apart from wanting to introduce customised wines to their customers, they also want to offer wine that is good for the human body. “The most important thing is to drink healthily and, at the same time, enjoying a wine that suits your personal taste,” she says.

Do not miss the chance to make your very own blend of personalised wine. For more information, please visit their website: www.mustwine.com.hk or visit MUST Custom Winery for yourself in Unit 603, 6/F Peter Building, 58-60 Queen’s Road Central, Hong Kong.

Editor: Tiffany Ngai

Cupmen to the Rescue! Cup Noodle Timer Extraordinaire

Reporter: Phoebe Man

Your stomach is growling from hunger. After making a tough decision over which soup base to choose, you pour boiling water into a polystyrene cup. Then you put it aside and continue with whatever you were doing, and wait. Ticktock, ticktock. Time flies by and, as you open the lid and inhale with great enjoyment, you realise your noodles are either too al dente or soggy.

If you have ever been frustrated and annoyed to find your noodles overcooked or underdone, Cupmen figures are here to rescue you, banishing the need for special skills to prevent heat from escaping the pot.

Cupmen are silicone shaped men (smaller than the size of your palm) who react to temperature and will gradually change colour to let you know when your noodles are ready.

They are also designed to cling on to the pot to keep the lid in place so that you don’t have to keep checking on the noodles. Just sit back and let Cupmen do the counting for you.

The magic begins once you place a Cupmen figure on the lid of a noodle pot. Its body parts will start turning white gradually as your noodles are being cooked. A completely white Cupmen figure, which usually takes a few minutes depending on the type and brand of noodles, indicates that the noodles are ready to be served.

Since Cupmen are made of silicon, they do not transfer heat so you don’t have to worry about burning your hand when you remove them from the lid.

The Cupmen collection is the invention of Akira Mabuchi who designed the little men because he found that holding down the lids of instant noodle pots with the stickers provided or random stationery items was cumbersome and dull. “Cupmen were created to entertain while waiting for your noodles,” says Mabuchi.

Cupmen, made with detailed facial features, come in two versions. Cupmen 1 (also known as “Hold On”), come in green, orange and pink. According to Mabuchi, they were designed to look as if they are climbing up from the side of the pot and about to dive in.

Cupmen 2 (also known as “Relax”), come in blue, moss green and rose. They look as if they might be sunbathing with their arms stretched back in a very relaxed manner.

Mabuchi says he created two ranges in different colours because he thinks that the enjoyment of collecting them increases the enjoyment of using them. “The different ranges are contrasting and complementary,” he says.

Markaina Chow Wing-shan, a student of  The Chinese University of Hong Kong, is one of the users amused by Cupmen. She finds the Cupmen figure particularly helpful and convenient as she no longer needs to calculate the cooking time for instant noodles.

“Cupmen figures are amazing! I don’t need to keep reminding myself to wait for three minutes anymore. It is also funny to look at how it changes colour,” she says.

Cupmen are now available in some online shops and Japanese lifestyle stores such as Franc Franc. Although its official price is ¥800 each, Varsity has been able to find stores and online retailers who sell it from $80-$120. For more information, visit http://www.plus-d.com/cupmen/.


Basic facts about Cupmen:
Size (each): 56mm×50mm×46mm
Weight (each): 12g
Material: Silicone
– Wash only in mild detergent
– Keep out of direct sunlight
– Do not place Cupmen near flames

Editor: Tiffany Ngai

Learning Chinese Identity: national education in Hong Kong schools

How is the dominant one-sided national education in Hong Kong affecting students’ sense of Chinese identity?

Reporters: Dora Chiu and Joyce Lee

The primary students stand in straight lines and sing the national anthem. “Walk solemnly, stand firm, stay focused, and salute,” instructs their teacher as the school’s flag-raising team hoists the national flag.
Flag-raising ceremonies have become part of the routine at the Sheng Kung Hui Yautong Kei Hin Primary School. It is part of the national education this and other schools are conducting to promote a sense of national identity in Hong Kong’s young people. Most of the flag-raisers in the team have been receiving national education since they were in kindergarten.

According to a Varsity survey of 285 local university students who attended local schools for at least four years, 60 per cent of respondents first received national education before the age of 12. The poll showed 56 per cent of   respondents regarded themselves as “Hong Kongers from China”, while 40 per cent said they were certain national education affected their national identity.

Eric Ma Kit-wai, a professor at the Chinese University of Hong Kong who has studied Hong Kong people’s sense of identity for over a decade, says the younger generation’s sense of national identity has increased significantly compared with only a slight increase among adults. He attributes this to the incorporation of national education in schools.

Yet, despite public discussions about national education, what “national” means is seldom clearly defined. The Chinese word guojia encompasses the concepts of country, nation and state. Where “country” is a geographical definition, “nation” denotes common ethnicity and culture, and “state” refers to a ruling power. When the word guojia is used interchangeably for these different meanings, these distinctions can become blurred, and people fail to realise that they can be discussed separately. Some scholars have noted that throughout Chinese history, the term guojia and other phrases with the character guo often implied the superiority of the state over everything else.

National education in Hong Kong also blurs the distinctions between country, nation and state. The two largest organisations providing national education materials in Hong Kong, the Hong Kong National Education Centre and the Hong Kong National Education Services Centre, focus mainly on China’s economic and technological development, as well as its history, arts, sports and geography. Politics is seldom discussed.

The two organisations were initiated by the pro-Beijing Hong Kong Federation of Education Workers and established with government support in 2004 and 2007 respectively. Ma says their governmental affiliation means it is unlikely they would cover the negative aspects of China or separate China from the ruling Chinese Communist Party.

However, Ma says it is important to define a country when conducting national education. This should be done through learning the history of how a country came to be what it is today, including the positive and the negative aspects of that process.

“A government would want to perpetuate its power by blurring the distinctions (of the different aspects of a country),” says Ma. “But a good national education would let students know that it is the people who vest power in a government. Therefore they have the responsibility to question what it does.”

Wong Chi-ming, director of the Hong Kong National Education Services Centre, says the ultimate purpose of national education is to encourage students to contribute to their country. He believes this is achieved through developing their sense of national identity by increasing their understanding of China. Wong says it is very important for students in Hong Kong to realise their identity as Chinese and to think as a Chinese.

This is also the mission of Hon Wah College, a school that has promoted national education since its establishment in 1945. Teachers raise the national flag and SAR flag every morning and students attend a flag-raising ceremony once a month.

<Click to read-Excerpt from”A Survey of National Education and Hong Kong People’s Sense of Identity”>

Touring Hidden Hong Kong

Local residents and tourists discover the secret side of Hong Kong on tours off the beaten track.

Reporter: Yvonne Yeung

In a long, dark corridor in one of the residential blocks in So Uk Estate, British school teacher Rebecca Barron squats down and peeps through a mail slot to get a look inside a vacant flat. She is astonished to learn that the 200-square-foot flat was designated for a large family.

“I was a little shocked as I thought the apartments were far too small for families with eight to 12 people,” Barron says. She, her fiancé and her 13-year-old daughter are visiting Hong Kong for the first time and they are participants in the inaugural city tour to be organised by Secret Tour Hong Kong. The tour’s organisers aim to show the “real” Hong Kong to visitors and locals alike for free.

“I have seen how people live now and how current government policy is having a profound impact on their lives. It is what I wanted to see,” Barron says. She found out about the tour on The CouchSurfing website and was attracted to the idea of a non-profit-making tour that revealed the inner workings of the place she was visiting.

The six foreigners and five locals who follow the two founders of Secret Tour Hong Kong do not know what to expect other than that they will see hidden sides of the city. They have not been told of the exact itinerary beforehand.

Although the 11-hour tour is free, participants have to pay for the food and fees for public transportation. It begins at noon with yum cha in a Chinese restaurant in Sham Shui Po. The participants and tour organisers share baskets and plates of dim sum around a circular table while discussing Hong Kong’s housing policies over cups of tea. After lunch, they walk to a flea market in Ap Liu Street and visit the Lei Cheng Uk Han Tomb Museum.

As they walk from Sham Shui Po to Cheung Sha Wan, Josie Cheng Ho-yi, the 24-year-old co-founder of Secret Tour Hong Kong, explains the architecture of the older public housing estates. Referring to a stack of notes in her hand, she reels off facts about the soon to be disbanded So Uk Estate community. Cheng even tells her own stories about growing up in the neighbourhood.

Cheng says she was inspired to start Secret Tour Hong Kong by the walking tours she joined in Europe as an exchange student. “We met many people and shared human stories with each other,” she says. Chatting with local people helped her to understand the countries she visited far better than just visiting the usual tourist spots.

The copywriter teamed up with another 24-year-old, advertising creative, Stephen Chung Chun-kit, to establish Secret Tour Hong Kong earlier this year. “We wanted to create a chance to meet and chat with people we never knew before,” says Cheng. The founders skip the usual tourist spots, shopping malls and theme parks. Instead, they take participants to rarely visited places to experience the life of ordinary Hong Kong citizens.

Hong Kong Losing its Sheen for Mainlanders

Hong Kong identity no longer an ideal for migrants from the mainland

Reporters: Carmen Shih and Gienne Lee

Lei Ching-yee and her husband Wong Chung-ping still remember what people called them when they first came to Hong Kong in the 1980s. “Ah Chan” was a generic term for mainlanders, derived from a character from the mainland in a popular TVB soap opera of the time.

Lei and Wong may have been living among other Cantonese speaking people of Han Chinese descent, but their neighbours had constructed another identity for new immigrants such as themselves. They were seen as industrious workers, but also as bumpkins who did not fit in fast-paced Hong Kong.

Lei arrived in Hong Kong in 1980, Wong a year earlier. Both had come to Hong Kong illegally from Dongguan in Guangdong province. At the time, the colonial government had a policy which allowed immigrants from the mainland to settle in Hong Kong if they managed to reach the urban areas of Hong Kong and had a place to stay.

They were both in their twenties and had come in search of a better life. Lei says there was not enough food to eat at home in Guangdong, and they survived on sweet potato peel. But relatives from Hong Kong often brought her a lot of gifts and beautiful clothes. She decided the city must be a better place to make a living and expected she would have a shining future if she made it there.

The reality was different. After her arrival, she realised Hongkongers were not as rich as she had imagined. The family she stayed with in Ping Shek Estate were crowded into one small room. Her relatives could not afford air-conditioning and made do with a fan. Children in the family slept on the floor as there were not enough beds.

Still, Wong and Lei got jobs in the factories and settled in the city. Some locals regarded the new arrivals as competitors in the job market or looked down on them. But Lei says people were friendly on the whole. “They did not bully us because we were mainlanders,” she says.

Now, after more than 30 years, Lei and Wong regard themselves as Hong Kong Chinese – their family is rooted here. Wong says he treasures the freedoms of Hong Kong. “In Hong Kong, if you work harder, you must have your reward,” he says.

Unlike Lei and Wong, who sneaked into Hong Kong, Bruce Chan Kwok-tung, a specialist in psychiatry, left Shanghai with his family in 1984 and settled in Hong Kong under the One Way Permit scheme. This was a controlled immigration scheme with a daily quota.

Chan says he had a hard time finding his identity at first. He was eager to become a Hongkonger and remembers saving his pocket money to buy a Walkman cassette player and music tapes. “By doing the same things as other Hongkongers, I felt like I was already fitting in,” says Chan. He is glad that he made a lot of good friends in Hong Kong who welcomed him into their social circles.

Chan, then a 13-year-old, made a big effort to integrate into his new surroundings. Immersing himself in popular culture, through television series and Cantopop, helped him to adapt. “I learnt almost all my Cantonese from TV series and Cantonese songs at that time.”

Even as he was striving to be a Hongkonger, Chan never forgot the fact that he was a Chinese. He is proud of being Chinese simply because China is where he is from. His clinic is furnished with Chinese furniture and decorated with Chinese calligraphy pieces.

Chan says his background as a mainland immigrant makes him more tolerant of the behaviour of mainlanders. He acknowledges there are differences between the behaviour of Hongkongers and mainlanders but he respects these cultural differences.

Chan describes himself as an amphibian, equally comfortable in Hong Kong and the mainland. This double identity gives greater flexibility in his dealings with his environment. “When I travel to Japan, I will identify myself as a Hongkonger as Hong Kong has a better image to Japanese and I can have better service,” he says. However, Chan believes that, on the whole, Hong Kong can no longer be seen as superior to the mainland .

Let it be, says Singing Doctor

Dr David Lee Ka-yan, of Siu Ming Visits Guangzhou fame, ascribes his success to Buddhist philosophy

Reporters: Raymond Tse


It is another busy day for Dr. Lee Ka-yan in his clinic. After a morning of consultations, the paediatrician is carefully applying make-up to his face; foundation to smooth out the complexion and blusher to provide some contouring.

Since becoming an unlikely internet sensation, Lee is used to being photographed and interviewed by the media. He is clearly enjoying every minute of his fame and wants to appear his best for Varsity’s photoshoot. “It is normal for people to make themselves look good,” he says.

Lee, with his oval shaped glasses, blue physician’s garb and a stethoscope hanging around his neck, looks like a friendly avuncular doctor. But there is no mistaking his sense of drama as he poses and gestures for the camera.

Although he has been singing children’s songs on TVB shows for 17 years, Lee’s breakout moment came when his song Siu Ming Visits Guangzhou and its accompanying music video became a YouTube hit at the end of 2010.

The song is about a boy called Siu Ming, who many suspect is Lee’s alter ego, who takes a trip to visit his relatives in Guangzhou. The video shows Lee taking a high-speed train, visiting famous Guangzhou landmarks, tucking into dim sum and rapping Cantonese tongue-twisters. Lee says that through the Siu Ming series, he wants people, especially young people, to learn more about the mainland.

The song has spawned many spoofs, including one by famous local stand-up comic Jim Chim and an X-rated version by some members of the Hong Kong Golden Forum online discussion site. In the comments beneath the video of Lee’s version on YouTube there are messages of appreciation as well as posts mocking Lee and poking fun at him. Not that such ridicule and send-ups of his work are likely to bother Lee.

Lee’s life philosophy is influenced by the Buddhist ideas of karma and fate. Everything happens for a reason, from a complex web of causes and conditions. For his part, Lee believes in going along with fate and not thinking too much about the future. “Nobody knows how long Siu Ming will be famous for,” he says. “The important thing is to produce work from the heart.”

This attitude has helped him to weather the disappointments in life. One unforgettable disappointment was failing his music examination in Form One because he did not know how to read the score. Perhaps the most impressive failure happened in his last year at university. He failed his final examination and had to defer his graduation for a year.

His academic life was not all a series of disappointments. Lee enjoyed his school years at St. Paul’s Co-Educational School. He was always ranked sixth or seventh place in his class but he never pushed himself to be top of the class. Since he knew that everyone has their limits, his results did not bother him.

Parents Conquer All

Teachers in  DSS schools under pressure from pushy parents

Reporters: Amy Leung Man Lok and Billy Leung Tsz Hong

Direct Subsidy Scheme (DSS) schools may offer smaller class sizes, superior facilities and valuable social networks for those students who manage to get in. But for some schoolteachers, working for a DSS entails pressure from pushy parents and a lack of job security.

Economics teacher Chan Tak got his first taste of parent power just three months after joining a DSS from an aided school in 2008.

Chan says a parent who claimed to be a university professor complained to him and his subject panel head about test papers Chan had set. “He used a red pen to circle questions he thought were incorrect and that he thought students might not understand,” says Chan. “For example, the word ‘undergraduate’ should be replaced with ‘university student’.”

After the complaint, all test papers set by Chan had to be reviewed by the panel head. “They like to complain about teachers, whether it is rational or not,” he says.

Such incidents are not confined to DSS schools. Chan, who spent a year teaching in an aided school before joining the DSS school, says whether a parent complains or not depends on their personality. Chan says there were many complaints from parents in the government aided sector as well.

“I used to teach in a non-DSS school in Tung Chung. One student forged a letter from his parents’ in order to skip sports’ day. When the teachers found out and complained to the parents, they rebuked us using foul language,” he recalls.

However, the threat of complaints, and even dismissal, is not equal among teachers. Chan says new teachers are often attacked by parents because parents assume they do not have adequate qualifications or experience. They also lack established personal networks, which may mean fewer colleagues are willing to support them in the face of negative comments.

There may be an added dimension at DSS schools because schools are afraid to offend fee-paying parents.
During the two years he taught at his first DSS school, Chan received six complaints from parents. The school principal, who once hinted he should resign for allegedly violating the school language policy by teaching in Chinese, finally fired him due to pressure from parents. Chan now teaches at another DSS secondary school in Kowloon.

Chan refuses to buckle under criticism, “I won’t betray my beliefs just to please parents and principals,” he says firmly. “Some principals want their teachers to provide good services (to parents). A good teacher in their eyes should be similar to an obedient student who listens to their orders.”

Although Chan Tak says teachers have to put up with parental criticism in both DSS and aided schools, parents of children at DSS schools tend to have advantages that can make them more demanding, for better or worse.

Locals Who Are Not Considered Local: Hong Kong’s South Asians

Hong Kong’s ethnic minorities still struggling for acceptance due to language barriers and skin colour

Krizto Chan and Liz Yuen

During a visit to the Labour Department to look for a job, an officer counts one, two, three stars on Tauriq Ahmad’s Hong Kong Identity Card. The officer looks puzzled and keeps on asking, “Are you Pakistani? Indian? Nepali?” For Ahmad, comments like this are an all too common occurrence. He is a permanent resident but as an ethnic Pakistani, he does not look like a “local” in many people’s eyes.

Ethnic minorities make up five per cent of Hong Kong’s total population and according to a 2006 census, 44 per cent of them are permanent residents. They belong to different ethnic groups and social classes and practise different religions. But they all live in a city where the majority are Han Chinese and they all have their ways of viewing their identity.

Rihana Bibi, a 22-year-old Pakistani living in Hong Kong with her family, describes herself as a  local. “I don’t look Chinese,” says Rihana. “But I am a lot like the local people because I was born in Hong Kong and I went through the local education system and everything.”

A student at the City University of Hong Kong, Bibi’s favourite activities are similar to those of other local young people. She goes to “yum cha” regularly with friends and gets excited about local festivals like Chinese New Year. She is also a big fan of local television programmes and movies. “Once in a CD shop when I told my friends that I watched these TVB series and those movies, they are like: ‘Oh my God you watch more than us’.”

Bibi says she tries to blend into the local community. For instance, she used to wear traditional Pakistani outfits but she stopped after she noticed people would hesitate before approaching her. “In one way I am more comfortable with how I used to dress,” she says. “But I have to change this about me to become more local.”

Dressed in a hoodie and a pair of jeans, Qudrat Nasirah Bibi (no relation to Rihana) says she does not wear Islamic dress in Hong Kong. Nasirah was educated in local schools, the Sham Shui Po Government Primary School and then Delia Memorial School. She is now studying at university to become an English teacher.

Born and raised here, she is used to Hong Kong’s culture and lifestyle. “If I don’t belong here I don’t belong anywhere,” she says.

Occasionally, Nasirah visits her parents’ home country, Pakistan. Every time, she finds herself dying to come back. “The way you think and dress and the way people there think and dress are different,” she says. “Everything is different…I don’t feel like it’s home there. My home is Hong Kong.”

However, she finds the majority of Hong Kong people do not consider ethnic minorities to be locals. “Just because you can’t speak Cantonese, you cannot read, you cannot write, you do not look local, you are not local.”

Nasirah believes language skills determine ethnic minorities’ degree of adaptation and popularity in mainstream society. “If you speak Cantonese, then people around you would be more comfortable with you and be nicer to you because you can communicate easier.”