The area under the flyover next to Sham Shui Po is home to a shifting population of street sleepers, whose makeshift homes mark an ironic contrast to the private high-rise residential buildings just a block away.
When people think of the homeless, they often conjure up images of the marginalised, the mentally ill and those who are addicted to drugs. But there are many reasons people may live on the streets and some are members of the working poor who simply cannot afford to find a place to live.
“I’m still searching for a home but the rent is too high,” says Ah Ji, a street sleeper in his 40s, sitting calmly in Tung Chau Street Park on the coldest day so far of the winter.
When Varsity visited him, Ah Ji , who does not want to disclose his full name, had been sleeping in the park for a year. He used to rent a bed space in an old walk-up tenement building in Ki Lung Street, a few blocks away from where he now sleeps. Ah Ji says he paid HK$1,200 a month for a bed space in the flea-ridden apartment, where the lights only intermittently worked. When the landlord decided to turn the flat into sub-divided units, Ah Ji moved out and has been unable to find affordable accommodation elsewhere.
“I’m saving money, hoping the amount can sustain housing rents at least for a few months,” he says with hope and confidence. Ah Ji is a casual renovation worker who only works when he receives calls from his foreman. He is neither reluctant to work nor unable to work, despite what some might think, and he is not alone among street sleepers.
According to the survey report of the Homeless Outreach Population Estimation Hong Kong 2015 conducted by local universities and community organisations, 35 per cent of street sleepers interviewed had jobs, and nearly half said they sleep on the streets because due to unaffordable rents.
Like Ah Ji, most of the working homeless are casual workers. Although they can meet their immediate need for food and daily necessities getting paid by the day, this is not a practical way of maintaining their livelihood. Employers always ask job applicants to fill in their addresses and contact numbers when they apply for long-term employment. Ah Ji says the homeless are trapped in the vicious cycle of“no address, no job”, which makes it hard for them to find long-term jobs with stable incomes.
Without either, Ah Ji has tried staying in two street sleepers’ hostels founded by a charity in Sham Shui Po and Yau Ma Tei. But he found it hard to follow the hostel rules.
“We need to follow their rules strictly, for instance, the time of sleeping and waking up,” Ah Ji explains. The time constraints are disruptive to the working homeless because they might not be able to get back in time after finishing work.
While they acknowledge the rules are reasonable, they are inconvenient for some working homeless people. But there are others who choose the street over shelter in a hostel because they prefer the freedom of the streets.
Women reentering the workplace struggle with changed environments and gender stereotypes
by Fiona Chan & Minnie Wong
On a Sunday afternoon, children’s laughter rings out around the indoor playground of a private housing estate in Hang Hau. Young mothers are chasing after their children, as 49-year-old Kwong Kam-yuk walks by, behind her son Cheung Ho-yin who stops from time to time to wait for his mother to catch up.
Ho-yin is now 19 and his mother returned to work in 2014 after spending 18 years taking care of him until he entered university. “I wanted to rejoin society, I’d been cut off from it for too long,” Kwong says.
After a few job changes, she is now an office cleaning lady for a cosmetics retailing company. But she has found it hard to readjust to the pace of work after spending close to two decades away from the workplace.
She says, teary-eyed, that many colleagues have complained about and disliked her for being a slow worker. “When I was a homemaker, there was no need for me to rush at all. Nobody will push you at home,” she says.
Kwong recalls her first day of work at the company when she was asked to remember how to match each cup with its owner. She was responsible for washing the cups of more than 20 staff members, and each one of them had around four to five cups. Kwong was required to remember which belonged to whom within three days.
Kwong Kam-yuk
To help herself remember, she marked down the characteristics of each cup and the names of the cup owners on a piece of paper, but was barred from using the “cheat sheet” when she was at work. This caused her intense anxiety.
“I was always scared of being absent-minded, even when I was in bed. I read my paper again and again frequently,” she says.
As Kwong is saying this, her son gently places his hands on her shoulders. “She always forgets about things, so there is always a pile of papers in her pocket,” he says.
Kwong’s anxiety is familiar to 44-year-old Money Chan, another homemaker who quit her job to raise her children. Although her English name is Money, money is not the reason she decided to rejoin the workforce last year after leaving it in 2001.
“After all these years, I just want to spend a few hours happily in the workplace and be reintegrated into society,” she says.
Chan worked for a brand-name boutique before 2001, so she chose the same sector when she decided to work again. With an educational level of Secondary Five, Chan was a shop manager in the past. In today’s job market, her educational attainment is no longer competitive and she cannot find such a senior position.
This time around, she worked as a saleswoman, and she was struck by how much things had changed. “The whole market, including the products, the services and all the arrangements in the shop, has changed,” says Chan, “It makes me feel as if I am suffocating.”
Like Kwong, Chan felt great pressure from the demand for efficiency in her workplace. “You will panic. You cannot be slow,” she says. “People keep speaking on the walkie talkie. It makes you feel very exhausted.”
The mental and physical strains of the job prompted Chan to resign. She now works part-time in a shop selling handmade accessories and children’s wear.
Satire channels Hong Kong people’s frustrations and shines a light on Hong Kong politics
by Doris Yu
On January 11 this year, the Queen Elizabeth Stadium was packed for a satirical magazine and website’s spoof awards variety show. Those who could not get tickets for the sold-out event gathered at various public spots to watch it live on a pay TV station.
The event organised by TVMost, a multimedia website founded by the popular youth magazine 100Most, featured non-A-list celebrities performing Canto-pop parodies poking fun at Hong Kong’s social and political injustice.
While the show was hailed as a groundbreaker, Chan Ka-ming, a lecturer at the Department of Cultural and Religious Studies of the Chinese University of Hong Kong, says TVMost’s satire is just the latest manifestation of a decades-old Hong Kong satirical tradition. Chan says Enjoy Yourself Tonight, a popular variety show that aired on TVB Jade from 1967 to 1994, was the first Hong Kong mass entertainment show to mock social affairs by parodying songs and performing satirical dramas.
Satire is a genre of literature, graphic and performing arts which ridicules and shames individuals, companies, and most often, the government and the society
In the 1970s, The Hui Brothers Show starring brothers Michael Hui Koon-man and Samuel Hui Koon-kit sent up the capitalist classes by showing the exploitation of the grassroots by performing humorous skits and sitcoms. Then, in the 1980s and 1990s, Stephen Chow Sing-chi’s comedy blockbusters expressed Hong Kongers’ fear of mainland China and the looming 1997 handover.
“In the past, Hong Kong’s pop culture was ‘depoliticised’ – people might laugh at social issues but they never dared to touch on politics,” says Chan.
However, also during the 1990s, stand-up comedian Dayo Wong Chi-wah and RTHK television’s show Headliner started making fun of and shaming politicians and local politics. Today, it seems political satire is everywhere.
Chan Ka Ming
“There are so many examples of how stupidly issues and politics are handled… They dominate the topic of people’s creative work,” says Chan.
Apart from conducting research on satire and analysing it, Chan is also a practitioner who does stand-up comedy and performs satirical plays on stage. In 2012, he teamed up with Headliner’s Tsang Chi-ho for a comedy satire about the National Education controversy called Slippery when Red .
His most recent stand-up comedy, A Shaggy Dog Story was staged in May 2015. In the show, Chan uses the character of a police dog to reflect on the police force, Umbrella Movement and animal rights.
Chan says he put a lot of effort into writing the punchlines. In order to understand how the media and the public perceive the police, he collected newspapers, closely studied their content and tried to find material for jokes.
Given the subject matter of Chan’s comedy, it is tempting to assume he wants it to serve some social or political purpose, whether by stimulating debate or encouraging others to take action but he says he does not have such grand aspirations.
“For our generation, satirical work is just an ‘expression’. My drama is not intended to be inspirational. I feel satisfied when it makes people laugh and they can relate to it.”
Other young satirists are more willing to embrace an element of political purpose in their work. Post-80s designer Albert Leung Chi-yan took a risk when he quit his job at an advertising agency to set up his own design studio DDED in 2014.
At first, Leung just wanted to be free to use his design skills outside of company constraints on his creativity. But, his concern for what was going on in Hong Kong society inspired him to create animations introducing serious social and political issues in an entertaining yet ironic way.
His first video to go viral was a spoof video game featuring photographers who do battle with excreting mainland tourists. In order to win, photographers have to capture their opponents’ misbehaviour while the tourists have to attack the photographers with excretment.
His satirical output is a busy one-man operation. After he gets inspiration from his Facebook newsfeed, Leung pictures and plans the animation in his head. In order to make sure his production is timely, he draws the graphics, converts them into animations on his computer, and does the voiceovers with a microphone in his studio, all within a few hours. Then, he uploads his work onto social media platforms such as Facebook, YouTube and Instagram, and replies to any comments from fans.
Leung says he never runs out of ideas because,“after the handover, there are many topics. In recent years, [Hong Kong] is getting more ridiculous.” He believes satire is a way to draw people’s attention to social issues. “We need to push people to be concerned because if people are concerned, the powers-that-be can’t act so blatantly in the future.”
DDED’s Facebook fan page now has more than 43,000 likes and Leung has also launched a line of Umbrella Movement-inspired 3D figurines and flashcards featuring cartoon figures such as “policeman”, “evil boy” who represents an occupier as seen through the eyes of the anti-Occupy “blue ribbons” and “grandpa” which resembles the cardboard cutout of President Xi Jinping holding a yellow umbrella which was seen at the occupied sites.
Albert Leung Chi-yan and DDED’s 3D figurines.
Instead of working to please his boss, Leung now has to impress his fans by constantly producing new content. “No post means no existence. [Regular update] is as important as breathing,” he says.
Leung has also shown that satire can be marketable. His creativity and his fan base have enabled him to make a living by producing video advertisements for companies like Mannings and promoting them on his Facebook fanpage. These advertisements are far more lucrative than sales for his figurines, which sell for HK$90 each.
Since he set up DDED, Leung has also been able to have fun with his creative freedom – his videos often contain or allude to Cantonese swear words and mock local and Chinese politicians.
However, he is worried that online satire artists will soon lose their freedom. Although the Copyright (Amendment) Bill legislation, often framed as “Internet Article 23”, has been withdrawn from the current Legislative session, he predicts there could be more restrictions on sensitive content on the Internet in the future.
“Of course, there is not much that we can do when we are fighting against authority. The only thing I can do is continue to generate good videos, use my influence and try [to make a change],” says Leung.
Like Leung, Knight, an illustrator who does not want to disclose his real name, is also worried about the the Copyright (Amendment) Bill. Knight runs a Facebook fan page with more than 24,500 followers and often mocks and criticises the Hong Kong government and the Chinese Communist Party with his illustrations and comics.
Knight’s illustration about the Copyright (Amendment) Bill legislation.
He is most proud of his cartoon strip about the Copyright (Amendment) Bill. While most netizens were still discussing the results of the district council elections last November, he was one of the earliest online satirists to notice the passage of the first reading of the bill and to produce artwork on it.
“I am glad that I fulfilled the duties of the media,” says Knight, “It is the era of ‘self-media’. Whoever has a Facebook page is a media [outlet].”
Although he is still a university student and the workload from his studies and producing content for his page is punishing, Knight does not want to give up on satire. He says he would rather give up on his studies than stop updating his page. “[The page] is my wife, my lover,” he says.
Some have criticised satire such as TVMost’s show, and Leung’s and Knight’s work for making light of serious issues by making politics “too entertaining”. The critics say such an approach may discourage audiences from taking social issues seriously and taking action.
Knight is not buying it. He says satirists neither have the responsibility to join any social movements nor to push their followers to actively join them. His only obligation is to voice young people’s frustrations and discontent with the government.
While Knight would rather support social movements from behind the scenes, Wong Kei-kwan, better known by his pen name Zunzi, hopes to mobilise the public with his political comics.
The 60-year-old political cartoonist, whose work can currently be seen in Ming Pao, Apple Daily and Next Magazine, has portrayed many political figures of the day for the past 30 years. His most notable character is “Grandpa Deng”, who represents late Chinese leader Deng Xiaoping in the Sino-British Negotiations. “Mr. Legislator” is another famous character which makes fun of a fictional under-qualified legislative council member.
Instead of a satirist and cartoonist, Wong would rather call himself a journalist. He believes his job is to concisely channel news, controversy and society’s frustrations into caricatures.
“Politicians tend to complicate social issues and they could not be happier if the general public does not understand them,” says Wong, “so I want to clarify and simplify events.”
Apart from producing satirical works, Wong does not hesitate to participate in social movements himself. In April 2014, his promotional poster for “civil referendum” on the method for choosing chief executive candidates was published by the New York Times. In the poster, a hand holding a red rose punctuates a book with the title “White Paper”.
Also in 2014, Wong joined the Occupy Central leaders in shaving his head to show his determination to fight for true democracy. Eventually, he followed the leaders in surrendering to police for taking part in an “unauthorised assembly” during the Umbrella Movement.
Zunzi
“I believe that every intellectual has the responsibility to voice their opinion honestly on social matters, and help change society to be a better place to live in. Some of them use writing, some use photos, some use music or performance art, and I choose to use political cartoons,” he says.
But while Wong believes satire plays an important role in social movements and is pleased to see more artists use satire after the Umbrella Movement, he harbours doubts about the influence of his and his peers’ work.
For instance, he says he finds it is hard to counter people’s mental fatigue and carry on encouraging the public to participate in the June 4 candlelight vigil year after year through his work. He has been doing so for more than 25 years, yet disappointingly, he does not think that an official reassessment of the bloody crackdown of 1989 is on the horizon.
“I feel powerless… All I can do is tease but I cannot change reality,” says Wong.
The Chinese calligraphy in Nelson Chow’s office: “When the great way prevails, the world is equally shared by all.”
After devoting close to 50 years to practising social work and studying social welfare policies, 69-year-old Nelson Chow Wing-sun, an emeritus professor at the University of Hong Kong, could be forgiven for sitting back and enjoying his retirement.
Instead, he is sitting in his office and writing at his vintage redwood desk opposite a wall where a piece of Chinese calligraphy hangs. “When the great way prevails, the world is equally shared by all,” it reads.
It is a theme that resonates with Chow, who grew up poor, the youngest of six children in a cramped tenement flat his family shared with others. He managed to get into an elite school and then the University of Hong Kong (HKU) at a time when most people were lucky to finish their secondary education, but these early experiences stayed with him.
The social sciences faculty did not exist when Chow entered HKU and he joined the Faculty of Arts. But his interest in social issues led him to study sociology and politics courses as well. The 1967 riots broke out during his first year, followed by a period of social reform initiated by the colonial government. All these developments spurred Chow’s interest in social issues and policy.
After graduation, Chow got a post-graduate diploma in social work and worked as a probation officer for two years before returning to post-graduate study and academia.
As a scholar, Chow has become one of the city’s most respected social work experts and a leading figure on the study of poverty in Hong Kong. He has been invited to sit on numerous advisory bodies and committees and helped the government to conduct major research on social welfare. One such project, in 1983, led him to come up with Hong Kong’s first index for measuring poverty, commonly referred to as the “poverty line.”
One area of social welfare that has always occupied Chow’s attention and interest is the welfare of the elderly. So it is unsurprising that in 2013 the government would turn to him to write a report reviewing and outlining different approaches for a pension scheme for Hong Kong.
Chow, who retired from his teaching post that year, spent a year with his team of researchers examining six proposals. They finally came up with a universal pension plan that would allow elderly people aged 65 or above to receive a non-means-tested sum of HK$3,000 a month.
However, when the government put forward two proposals for public consultation in 2015, it made it clear which one it was backing. It labelled Chow’s universal option the “regardless of rich or poor” approach. Meanwhile, the second approach was called the “those with financial need” approach. Under this plan a monthly pension of HK$3,230 a month would be paid to those aged 65 or above if they owned less than HK$80,000 worth of assets for a single person and HK$125,000 of assets for a couple.
Officials obviously favoured the latter approach, telling the public it had “reservations” about the first approach and warning it could lead to huge tax increases. They even asked if it was fair that the young should be saddled with higher taxes to support the old.
The government also jumped on Chow’s calculation method and released a financial estimate, based on population projections, of a HK$500 billion deficit by 2064.
In a move many saw as out of character for a mild-mannered moderate who had always tried to advocate from within and work with the government, Chow held his first personal press conference. He accused officials of treating him unfairly by shaping his proposal as a giveaway approach. He said the government had tried to shift support away from his proposal by twisting the truth and alarming citizens with its tax rate projections.
“I was certainly disappointed,” Chow mumbles, his eyes drooping, “The government handled this case by using false facts and did not allow citizens to see the full picture.”
Not only is he disappointed, but he also feels pessimistic about Hong Kong’s future in the hands of its current government leaders.
After several conversations with the senior officials, Chow says he finds their mindset is stuck in the 1980s. “They only think about finance expenditure, instead of putting citizens’ well-being as the first priority,” he says. “This will bring disaster to Hong Kong.”
He singles out Chief Secretary for the Administration, Carrie Lam Cheng Yuet-ngor in particular. Chow’s press conference sparked a war of words with Lam, who called his proposals “unrealistic” and said some of his suggestions were “not in the appropriate attitude of a serious academic.”
Lam’s words triggered strong criticism from academics. “That is demeaning and insulting,” says Wong Yu-cheung, a social work associate professor at the Chinese University of Hong Kong and also a member of Chow’s research team. He says he finds it “bone- chilling” that the government has to resort to these tactics in order to lobby the public and argue against opposing opinions.
Wong Hung, currently an associate professor in the Department of Social Work in CUHK and Chow’s former student, describes Chow as a “gentle and honest” teacher who rarely criticised the authorities.
Wong thinks it is unfair for the government to invite Chow to write the report at the beginning and toss him aside at the end. For him, the whole affair reaffirms his belief that scholars should take more responsibility in supervising the government and stand firm in defending their stance.
That is why he led 180 scholars to boycott the government consultation and support Chow. “He is a scholar who deserves our respect,” Wong says, “The government should not denigrate Professor Chow.”
A major reason why so many academics came out to support Chow can be attributed to recognition for his dedication to studying and alleviating elderly poverty. Back in 1980, he conducted research with Wong Hung about the major types of poverty in Hong Kong. At that time, Chow could already foresee how serious the problem of Hong Kong’s aging population would be.
As part of the study, Chow interviewed elderly people who had HK$50,000 of assets at that time. Although this was not an inconsiderable sum back then, they did not dare to use their money because they did not know when they would need it for use in an emergency. “Think about it,” Chow says. “You might have 25 more years to live after you retire. How much money will you need?”
For Chow, the study of elderly poverty is not just about theory or data, but about human beings. “I think man is the most important thing,” he says. He fixes his eyes on the Chinese calligraphy on the wall and says: “For me it is worthwhile to do anything that can benefit people.”
Despite such lofty idealism, Chow does not think the meaning of “social welfare” is that everyone should enjoy equal resources. He knows there is no perfect system. But he does believe there should be a “minimum platform”. There should be policies in place to protect every citizen and ensure their basic living requirements are met.
When asked if he thinks Hong Kong has achieved this “minimum platform”, Chow immediately gives a negative answer.
He says the government does have some good policies on social welfare, but they could be better. “I think Hong Kong could satisfy all these needs.” he smiles, “The government always claimed that they do not have money. I think no one believes it.”
Given his assessment of Hong Kong’s leadership, further improvement of social welfare policies may be a challenge. Recalling his work with the government under three Chief Executives, he says Tung Chee-hwa had vision but lacked the ability to execute it while Donald Tsang Yam-kuen lacked vision. As for current Chief Executive Leung Chun-ying, Chow says he has not been impressed with either his vision or his performance in government.
He will continue to try and come up with a solution to the pension problem that might be acceptable to the government and the public. But whatever the future holds for social welfare policy in Hong Kong, Chow anticipates he will be taking a back seat. He takes a last sip of his tea and clasps the lid of his water bottle. “It is not my time any more,” he says. “I don’t have the energy any more. It is time for some rest.”
The first woman to lead a top-flight Hong Kong side, Chan Yuen-ting blazes a new trail in the men’s football world
It may just be a practice match for training but the men on the pitch are intent on winning. The football bangs into a goal post before the whistle blows. The rivalry is immediately tossed aside as the men gather together in the centre circle. After all, they are teammates and in their midst is a young woman, patting the players on their backs.
She is Chan Yuen-ting, nicknamed Beefball for her insistent personality, and she is head coach of the local top flight football side Eastern Sports Club. At the age of 27, Chan is both the first female head coach of a men’s team in the Hong Kong Premier League and the league’s youngest head coach.
It may seem surprising that the macho world of professional men’s football would accept a young woman as team boss. Indeed, reactions were mixed when Chan was appointed to succeed Yeung Ching-kwong, who moved to become assistant coach of the Meizhou Hakka F.C. in December last year. But Leung Shou-chi, Eastern’s Executive Director and a veteran in the game, says giving Chan the job was a no-brainer.
“I took one minute to decide (appointment of Chan),” says Leung. He adds that Chan was the only candidate for the job who possessed the Asian Football Confederation’s “A” Coaching Certificate.
Chan is an undisputed rising star in local football. Before joining Eastern, she was assistant coach at Hong Kong Pegasus FC and Southern District. At Pegasus, she was also a data analyst. The promotion to the top job at one of Hong Kong’s leading teams brings great pressure for the rookie head coach, but so far the signs are good.
“I am so surprised that the players support me very much and we just won the [Senior Challenge] Shield,” says Chan. She believes the victory was possible because they pulled together as a team despite the changes in personnel.
Chan’s extraordinary journey started from a youth summer scheme for football which she joined for fun. It was the summer before she entered secondary four but she can still recall her first touch of the ball.“(The first time) playing football, I can remember it well… It was on a concrete pitch in Sha Tin. That was how I started playing football and then coaching up till now.”
“Actually, I think it was kind of love at first sight,” says Chan, reflecting on the early days of her enthusiasm for football. “At the beginning, I adored David Beckham very much, so I started watching football matches. Then, I felt football seemed to be fun to play and so I applied for that scheme to learn how to play football.”
Chan says her early playing days went well and her passion for the game grew. She believes her natural ability may have helped her to develop a long-term interest in football. “Maybe I was an innate sportswoman, so I started well. It was because I started well, playing football gave me a sense of achievement,” she says. The joy she gets from football continuously drives Chan to devote her time and efforts into the sport for the decade since her first kick of the ball.
Evergreen performer Leung Kin-ping finds his moment of glory after 30 years
by Lynette Zhang
Leung plays a taxi driver in the Dialect segment of the movie Ten Years.
Leung Kin-ping never set out to be an actor, never dreamed of setting the stage or screen ablaze. But over the course of a nearly 30-year career, he has cultivated an exacting love for his craft.
There is no movie star aura yet the man with the gentle voice, wearing blue jeans, red jacket and sneakers does immediately strike you as someone you recognise from a television drama even if you cannot name him. If you have seen the surprise hit independent movie Ten Years, which is made up of five short films, you may instantly recognise him as the taxi driver in the Dialect segment.
Leung is known in Hong Kong as a “green leaf” or evergreen actor, one recognised for playing supporting parts rather than the lead. He has even been called “King of Green Leaves”. Leung takes the label in his stride, “I think it is just a way of complimenting,” Leung says. “Thanks a lot!”
Now 55 years old, Leung entered the television industry during the golden age of Hong Kong’s movie and television output. He grew up at a time when watching television was the most common form of entertainment and, as a child, he was captivated by the stories about TV and movie stars.
Without a higher diploma and with limited employment options, Leung was driven by his childhood fantasy to enter the entertainment business.
He first worked as a photo printer in Shaw Brother Pictures Limited, then a public relations officer, and finally became an actor with Television Broadcasts Limited (TVB) in 1986.
Leung says he cultivated his interest in acting gradually through the decades while making a living from it. He compares this to a child who is pushed by his parents to play the piano and only realises the beauty of performance after years and years of practice.
Right from the start, he set himself a simple goal – to keep on improving. For the first 12 years, he felt satisfied with the small improvements he made every year. But when the 13th year came around, he panicked and found himself stuck because of what he describes as TVB’s rigid structure and lack of innovation.
In recent years, many local viewers, especially the younger ones, have complained about TVB programmes for their hackneyed and repetitive storylines, unrealistic plots and careless onscreen mistakes. Many have deserted the station’s dramas and turned to Korean or American television series instead.
Just as viewers are bored, it turns out the actors are bored too, except unlike Leung, few of them are prepared to say it publicly.
Leung says it was difficult to create any chemistry with his acting partners on TVB shoots because everything was so familiar. He usually simulates scenes in his head before shooting and he found his predictions were 90 per cent correct when the shoot began. “I know the facial expression and pace he [the character] will use.” Leung says with a bitter smile, “There is no surprise.”
Leung bluntly states that the main problem with the Hong Kong television industry is the lack of competition. “No competition, no improvement,” he says. TVB’s monopoly is leading to market shrinkage and saturation, and the consequence is a lack of new blood and fresh ideas.
Leung hints that the television industry has reverted to the situation in 1960s, when the only newcomers in the industry were the poor and the rich. That is, people who either had no other choice of career or did not have the pressure of making a living. In any case, since the market is shrinking, most production teams prefer to choose experienced actors over new actors.
The moribund situation was shaken up when Ricky Wong Wai-kay prepared to launch Hong Kong Television Network Limited (HKTV) in 2012. By investing in edgy local drama, HKTV opened Hong Kong viewers’ eyes to the possibility of having different genres of television series, such as political dramas, musical dramas, superhero action comedies and more. It was a radical departure from the medical and crime dramas that are TVB mainstays.
Leung quit TVB for HKTV in 2012, but there was nothing romantic about his decision.
“I just moved for a higher salary,” he says. “We are not stars. It is difficult to survive in this industry.”
Leung describes himself as “farmer in the performance industry”, one who faces a similar predicament as a real farmer. They both invest a lot of effort to produce a product and sell it to some large companies. The companies earn a lot with the product, but give just a little back to the farmers.
Despite high hopes, HKTV ultimately failed to win a domestic free-to-air television license. But rather than fade away, Leung’s career took other unexpected turns.
In 2014, a short film he starred in, The Tricycle Thief, was nominated for Best International Short Film in the Toronto Film Festival. Then, last year he gained local acclaim for his performances in an episode of RTHK’s Below the Lion Rock 2015 and the sleeper hit Ten Years.
Leung playing Go Gor, a recyling truck driver, in Lion Rock 2015
Playing a recycling truck driver called Go Gor in the former programme, Leung struck a chord with many Hongkongers in his portrayal of the grassroots’ struggle to get by.
Leung believes actors’ performances can only resonate with the audience when they are true to life. To play Go Gor, Leung sat in his car every day to observe a ragman on the other side of the street for hours just to learn his style and posture.
The same realistic performance also brought him a lot of praise for Ten Years.
The dystopian film is a surreal imagination of what Hong Kong will be like in a decade’s time. Local heritage and culture is disappearing, conspiracies abound, citizens are oppressed by censorship and coercion and Cantonese is vanishing. The themes all reflect current controversies in Hong Kong. Many audiences see Ten Years as a prophecy.
But to Leung, the movie is just a “logical deduction.” He sees it as a reflection of people’s thoughts today. “People feel worried and anxious about the current situation in Hong Kong,” he says. “They express this through the movie. That is normal.”
Asked if he was worried that his participation in Ten Years might lead to his being banned in the Mainland, Leung laughs. “No. Who can escape from the political?” He thinks people should try to understand the political concerns and thoughts that are behind Ten Years.
Leung has two daughters and he does not want them to live in a world where they cannot speak freely. “The most precious thing in Hong Kong is freedom. We cannot lose freedom of speech,” he says.
Looking ahead, Leung is uncertain about his future. He does not know what challenges or opportunities will be in front of him. The only thing he knows is that he hopes to tackle new challenges in 2016.
“For other careers, you have to retire at the age of 60,” he says, “But being an actor, you can act as long as you can still walk, think and talk.”
Green Ladies boutique sells second-hand clothes for charity
by Gloria Lee
Would you buy a second-hand wedding dress? A shopper at Green Ladies actually considered it, which surprised Michelle Lai Wai-ting, the manager of the social enterprise store.
“A wedding is a big day in a person’s life, but she didn’t mind using a second-hand dress,” Lai says.
Ultimately the customer didn’t buy the dress, but the fact that she even tried fits in with the store’s mission. Green Ladies on Queen’s Road West is no ordinary boutique; it’s the first consignment store in Hong Kong. The charity St. James’ Settlement started it in 2008 to promote the reuse of fashion products. It collects and resells trendy clothes, shoes, and accessories at reasonable prices, so people realise second-hand clothes aren’t necessarily old and yellowing.
“When customers enter the shop, they realise that second-hand clothes can be new and clean,” says Joyce Lin, Project Officer of Green Ladies.
New consignors have to sign a contract with Green Ladies, and the staff will shortlist available items for sale afterwards. The boutique only collects current season items, and they mainly collect casual clothes rather than business atire. The recycled clothes will be on sale for two months. If a product is sold, the individual consignor can get 10, 20, or 30 per cent of the price, or give all the revenue back to support the boutique. The revenue is used to train employees and to promote green living.
If the items remain unsold after two months, they will be sent to different St James’ Settlement centres and sold for charity at even lower prices for middle-aged women who are less well-off. This helps lower-income groups, and ensures that nothing is wasted.
Another major goal of Green Ladies is to provide job opportunities and training for middle-aged women. The three branches employ 40 workers, and four-fifths of the crew are middle-aged women. They get regular training to hone their skills and team spirit.
“Working here has helped me physically and mentally,” says Vivian (who prefers not to disclose her full name), a middle-aged salesperson at Green Ladies. “I am proud of working here and I recommend this place to my family and friends.”
Green Ladies now has three branches, with a fourth one opening soon. Check out their website http://greenladies.sjs.org.hk/ENG/main.htmlor sjsgreenladies on Facebook and Instagram for more details.
Life Journey Centre encourages understanding of the elderly through empathy
by Li Sunpin
What is it like to die? The Senior Citizen Home Safety Association has designed an interactive game called Life Journey that fast forwards you through life and ends inside a coffin.
The idea started from research showing that more than half of the 1,100 young people surveyed could not name their grandparents, and hold negative views about the elderly. For example, they think of the elderly as long-winded people in poor physical condition who need to be taken care of. Life Journey is about changing people’s minds, says Debbie Yuen, manager of the Life Journey Centre.
“We hope that our participants can realise how valuable their time is, and learn to treasure the time they have with their family and care more about the elderly.”
The game starts with participants watching a video and filling out a questionnaire about their life plan. Then, their “life journeys” begin and they have to collect credits throughout their “life”. Afterwards, they pass through a “Time Tunnel” to reach a “Graveyard”. There, participants spend a few minutes lying inside a coffin with a clock, and they have to think about what they remember of their lives. Afterwards, there’s a debriefing session where they are encouraged to reflect on the whole thing.
At the very end, participants do another survey about how they see the elderly. Yuen says that more than 80 per cent of the participants end up with a more positive attitude .
A self-described rebellious teenager, Cheung Wing-yiu, says she didn’t listen to her family in the past, but she regrets that now as the experience really did get her thinking about her life.
“As a teenager, I only think of how to enjoy life. I have never imagined that death can come so easily,” says the 16-year-old, after experiencing her “life journey”. To her, the most memorable part was lying inside a coffin, not an experience she is likely to repeat – during her life at least.
“I will start treasuring the relationship with my family and not waste time,” she says. This, of course, is the intended effect.
The game was made for students, but Life Journey will try to appeal to people of different ages in the future. The game is at Oi Man Shopping Centre in Ho Man Tin. If you are interested, you can go to their Facebook page https://www.facebook.com/LJC.hk/ for details.
The pan-democrats ‘great young hope’ has to beat DAB and localist challenge to win race
By Lynette Zhang
Alvin Yeung Ngok-kiu, a 35-year-old barrister, was not a household name until former Civic Party veteran Ronny Tong Ka-wah resigned from the Legislative Council last June, triggering the by-election. Yeung, who will represent the Civic Party in the election this Sunday, was caught by surprise and some now regard him the de facto heir to his mentor Tong.
Yeung and his team have been busy campaigning ever since, but there were more surprises in store for them.
After violent protests in Mong Kok during Chinese New Year, Yeung offered voluntary legal assistance to arrested protestors, even though he doesnot approve of violence. Yeung never expected the flood of personal attacks and scrutinyonline.
“My decision was not well-received,” Yeung says, explaining that moderate pro-democracy voters think he has crossed the line while pro-establishment supporters hate him even more.
“It is easy to pick an extreme,” he adds.
Yeung says it’s time for the pan-democrats to change their strategy, but he stresses that protests should be non-violent, peaceful and rational.
“Once we know what the bottom line is, then we can dream big.”
The protests in Mongkok split the pan-democrats, and Yeung says that has challenged his campaign. For example, localist candidate Edward Leung Tin-kei has received a surge of support.
At the same time, Yeung has another powerful adversary at the other end of the political spectrum; he says Holden Chow Ho-ding is still the candidate to beat. Chow represents the pro-establishment Democratic Alliance for the Betterment and Progress of Hong Kong, which Yeung describes as “the most established and biggest party of Hong Kong (with) unlimited resources.”
Yeung has certainly become famous after his campaign, but he says the fame only counts if he can channel it and achieve something.
The other candidates are Holden Chow Ho-ding, Lau Chi-shing, Wong Sing-chi, Christine Fong Kwok-shan, Leung Sze-ho, and Leung Tin-kei.
Chan was appointed to succeed Yeung Ching-kwong, who moved to become assistant coach of the Meizhou Hakka F.C. in December last year. But Leung Shou-chi, Eastern’s Executive Director and a veteran in the game, says giving Chan the job was a no-brainer.
