Please Love Hong Kong, Everyone!

The Hiker’s List by Teddy Law

● 《山友的路線名單》 / 羅榮輝著

大抵每個山友都有一份行山路線名單。這份名單，或長或短，或詳盡或簡略。
Nearly every one of my fellow mountaineers has their own wish-list of hiking destinations. This wish-list may be long or short. It may be highly detailed or little more than a sketchy outline.

最近朋友分享了她的行山名單，當中概分了遠程、短途、陰天和晴天路線。我也有類似的目的地清單，簡略分作九龍、港島、西貢、新界及大嶼山等區域，以配合行山當日的天時地利人和，從中篩選一條合適的路線：天晴時挑選風景較佳的地點，天氣不佳時則選取以歷史文化為主的行程。完成目標後，將它們從名單中逐一剔除，再不斷刪減增補。
Recently, a friend of mine shared her wish-list with me. It was roughly divided into long journeys, short trips, and routes for clear and cloudy weather. I myself have a similar list of destinations, simply drawn up in terms of the different areas of Hong Kong: Kowloon, Hong Kong Island, Sai Kung, the New Territories and Lantau Island. From this list, I choose a suitable route in order to fit in with the season, geographical position and the availability of people to accompany me. If the weather is fine, I select a location with exceptional scenery. If the weather is not particularly good, I pick a route for its history and its culture. As I complete my objectives, I tick them off my wish-list one by one, constantly crossing off and adding things as I go.

或者生活繁忙的城市人都很精於計算，每事都考慮機會成本，衡量付出與收獲。在有限的假期和時間裏，我們都偏好探索新的景點，甚至在可行的時間內多跑幾個山頭，而且從不重複，務求提升效率。此舉原也無可厚非，但與之同時，個人對達成目標的渴望，也多多少少揭露了一點功利主義。
Given their hectic lifestyles, the people of this city tend to be very adept at calculation and, in everything they do, weigh up pros and cons, as well as consider outlays and gains. Since our time in general ⸺ as well as holiday time ⸺ is limited, we tend to explore new vistas, even where feasible making our way to the top of several mountains, never going to the same place twice, to ensure that our effectiveness improves. Such behaviour cannot really be criticized but, at the same time, this individual thirst for achieving goals reveals more than a hint of utilitarian self-seeking.

山行的足跡，不過是山體形成的悠長時間裏的一個剎那的點。看着手裏的路線名單，一個個地點不期然被硬分成好幾個檔次，不禁會問：到某地急登短遊，又如何能讀懂一座山？一份名單，既是清晰目標，又是無形枷鎖。對山的體悟，不免會被名單所限，被地點所困，被數字所惑。不過，有多少人，還是執意走遍香港所有山頭，摘下台灣百岳，挑戰世界高峰。
The footprints we make walking over mountains amount to little more than a split-second in their long-drawn-out formation. With a wish-list of routes in one hand with its individual destinations rather arbitrarily divided into any number of grades, one can’t help wondering: how can we ever hope to understand a mountain in our rushed ascents and abbreviated excursions? Any list, no matter how explicit the objectives, is at the same time a set of invisible shackles. Any true personal insight into a mountain is inevitably limited by a wish-list, restricted by specific locations, confounded by numbers. But for all that, many people are still bent on walking to the top of all Hong Kong’s mountains, ascending all the well-known ranges of Taiwan and challenging tall peaks throughout the rest of the world.

愛山樂水不是難事。隨着個人的體能技巧、心理質素的提升、裝備的改良、步道的完善和資源的配合，逐步達到目標的人已不在少數。將目標一一達成，無疑能豐富一個人的閱歷，甚至能成就一名傑出的登山家，但是我相信，一個真正的岳人，不該只是一名計劃的完美執行者。他不以一張亮眼的履歷來定義自己，而是體現在對大地的感悟。他所展現的，是堅毅精神，是視野胸襟，是素養態度，重責任多於權利，尚集體利益多於個人得失。
To take delight in mountains and rivers is not difficult. With the increase in individual physical strength and skill, an enhancement of mental calibre, improvement of hiking gear, the perfection of pathways together with the coordination of resources, many people have eventually managed to reach their objectives. Undoubtedly, reaching your goals one after another enriches your experience, and might even make you into a superb mountaineer, but in my view, the true lover of mountains should be something more than a Perfect Executor of Plans. Such a person is not defined by a dazzling curriculum vitae but realized through true insight into the Earth. What such a person displays are resoluteness and spirit, vision and a broad mind, cultivation and attitude, with an emphasis on responsibility over rights, and the common good over any personal loss or gain.

他會懂得山的語言，與山對話，能夠在熟悉的環境中尋覓新鮮感，從平凡的景物中找尋趣味，在狹窄的小徑中感受大山大水。他的腳步，順心而行，他的路徑，隨心而寬。
People like this can understand the language of mountains, and so are able to converse with them, and have the ability to discover fresh new feelings in familiar surroundings, delight in mundane scenery, as well as experience mighty mountains and rivers on narrow trails. They walk where their own nature happens to lead them, and their paths grow wider along with their own hearts.

我總覺得，最難攀越的那座山岳，不載列在一紙名單上，而是懸繫在心頭。
At any rate, my feeling is that the most difficult mountain to overcome is not written down on any list but can only be found in our own minds.

Photograph: 香港西貢蚺蛇尖 Sharp Peak in Sai Kung, Hong Kong (www.oasistrek.com)

The Chinese version of this essay first appeared on Hiking Windfire.

Cantonese Shamanism by Jack M. Potter (1974)

Lovers of Hong Kong may be familiar with the Heritage Trail at Ping Shan. You can wander down from the Tin Shui Wai MTR station to the three-storey Tsui Sing Lau Pagoda, move on to the charming Earth God shrine which, unusually, features a special flourish of shrine-building architecture known  as 鑊耳 or “wok ears”, take in the glowing red sandstone lintel at the main entrance to the walled village of Sheung Cheung Wai, before proceeding to the grander buildings, the Yu Kiu Ancestral Hall, the Tang Ancestral Hall and the fine study halls of Ching Shu, Kun Ting and Shut Hing. In the 1960s, an annual group seance was held somewhere nearby this cultural-ritual precinct for all local inhabitants. Potter sets the scene in the following vivid manner:

“Hong Kong” and “shamanism” are probably two ideas not many people put together, but Jack Potter does so beautifully in his long essay “Cantonese Shamanism”, published in the book Religion and Ritual in Chinese Society. Potter is probably best known for his book Capitalism and the Chinese Peasant, but mainly to a sober academic audience. Fortunately for me (I have a strong, almost physical, aversion to most scholarly writing), I first encountered Potter’s essay in a wonderful second-hand bookstore in Brisbane by the name of Bent Books. Having dropped in one afternoon looking for magic, I found it, in this mind-bending piece which is ⸺ literally ⸺ spell-binding.

In 1962, at the time of the Moon Cake Festival on the fifteenth day of the eighth month, the three spirit mediums of Ping Shan held their annual free group seance open to all the villagers. At dusk the villagers, young and old, men and women, gathered on the cement rice-threshing floor in the open area west of Ping Shan’s central ancestral halls. As darkness fell and the full moon filled the sky with light almost as bright as day, the most accomplished shaman of the three, known as the Fat One, took her place on a low stool before a small, improvised altar table. As the incense sticks on the altar burned down, the Fat One, her head covered with a cloth, went into a trance. She jerked spasmodically and mumbled incoherent phrases. Then she started to sing a stylized, rhythmic chant, as her familiar spirits possessed her and led her soul upward, away from the phenomenal world into the heavens. Their destination was the Heavenly Flower Gardens.

Many of the villagers were less interested in the Fat One’s destination than in the ghosts (鬼 kwei) she met along the way. These were the souls of their deceased relatives and neighbours, who took advantage of this opportunity to communicate with the living. They asked for news, gave advice, and sometimes voiced complaints.

The first ghost the medium encountered spoke as follows: “It was not time for me to die. My head was severed by a Japanese sword. I am angry and lost because my bones are mixed with those of other people.” (p.208)

I find it interesting that all three of the Ping Shan shamans were women. Potter makes no mention at all of male shamans. As to the question of why these women became mediums, he provides a very surprising answer. According to the villagers, the ability to go into trances and to be possessed by spirits requires the possession of 仙骨sin kwat (“fairy bones”, although perhaps “occult” might be better in this context) and a 仙路 sin lou (“a fairy road”). Apparently, all of us have sin kwat, but they are supposed to be severed when a child is born. However, if individuals grow up with one bone left intact, their spirits retain a capacity to roam the heavens, a talent that makes them vulnerable to illness and attack from malevolent ghosts (the Chinese believe in benevolent ghosts, as well).

However, there is second, quite tragic aspect to this shamanic gift: women who become shamans do so because they have had children die young. The spirits of these children then haunt their mother, often making her extremely unwell unless she consents to becoming a spirit medium or healer:

The Fat One [ . . . ] had five daughter and two sons, all of whom died very young. Soon after the death of her last child, her husband also died. Her losses left her grief-stricken, depressed, and continually ill. Every night she dreamed of visits from her dead children’s souls. They taught her to “sing” in the rhythmic fashion characteristic of all professional shamans during conversations with the spirits, and then they asked her to become a spirit medium so she could help others and also earn extra money for herself. They knew that she had fairy bones because they had seen her call up spirits during the eighth month. They told her they had connections with other spirits and deities and would use their influence to help her deal with the supernatural world. (pp.226-227)

The experience of Kao Paak-neung, the second shaman of Ping Shan, was similar. As a young woman she had three daughters and one son, but they all died while very young. A year after her third daughter died, the daughter’s soul entered Kao Paak-neung’s body and asked her to become a spirit medium. But her dead son possessed her simultaneously, insisting that she become a curing specialist under the guidance of 華佗 Wa Dho. The struggle between the two spirits made her continually ill and almost drove her mad. She wandered around the countryside worshipping at all kinds of temples and altars in an attempt to free herself from their demands. Neither she nor her husband wanted her to become a spirit medium and curer.

After a time the spirits of her daughter and son compromised, deciding that she should become both a spirit medium and a curing specialist following Wa Dho. Her husband continued his opposition to the spirits’ demands until one day her daughter’s spirit entered Kao Paak-neung’s body and took he soul up to the heavens, making her appear to die several times during one long evening. Finally, at two in the morning, the husband relented and said she could become a shaman. Kao Paak-neung went wild with joy, jumping on tables and chairs, eating silver paper, incense and candles, and singing loudly.

And so these shamans who have lost children are, in a sense, reunited with them, thereby producing a most unexpected psychic healing in the women who have suffered more than any fair share of life’s misfortunes.

Another important aspect of Cantonese shamanism explored by Potter concerns the Four Heavenly Flower Gardens, a supernatural realm “where every living person is represented by a potted flowering plant”. The is one garden for each of the main compass points: the North and West Gardens are small, containing the plants of children who have recently been conceived. The East and South Gardens are large, for it is here that the plants of all people are transplanted between the ages of twelve and sixteen. At this time too, the Hong Kong Chinese believe, people are paired with their future life’s partner, their plants being placed alongside one another. Two deities preside over the Gardens, namely 李伯 Lee Paak and 十二奶娘 Zap Yih Nae Neung, a title which roughly translates as “the woman with twelve breasts”.

Shamans seem to base their fortune-telling abilities on the ability to travel to the Four Heavenly Flower Gardens. It is the final destination reached by the Fat One at the end of the group seance. Potter describes the shaman’s procedure in some detail:

The medium journeys to the Heavenly Flower Gardens in order to inspect the villagers’ flowers. This “inspection of the flowers”, or 診花 chan fa, is a form of fortune-telling. The medium examines the condition of a person’s flower: are there yellowed leaves or spider webs on the plant, does the flower seem in poor condition? The medium examines the flower to see how many red flowers (representing daughters) or white flowers (representing sons) are in bloom; unopened buds on the plant represent future offspring. If the pot contains bamboo, a woman will be barren; if it holds tangerines, she will have many children. The condition of a villager’s flower tells the medium important things about that person’s future. (p. 214)

Potter also reveals that traditionally, a few weeks after a child was born, a fortune-teller was generally consulted by the mother at the nearest market town. These fortune-tellers could tell her the names of the child’s “flower mother” and “flower father” ⸺ parents in its previous existence ⸺ as well as which of the Heavenly Flower Gardens it had come from. Shamans also made the journey to the Gardens to recover the souls of young children that had been kidnapped for ransom by malicious ghosts in order to obtain offerings of food and gifts of paper money.

“Cantonese Shamanism” is filled with the kind of details that could only come from personal attendance at seances and extensive interviews with these extraordinary women and Potter is careful not to intrude any scepticism with regard to the supernatural practices he relates. Nevertheless, he tactfully offers some interesting conjectures about the “structural” role shamans may play in village life. The idea of 契 khay or “fictive kinship” is important here. Shamans were often engaged by villagers to provide occult protection to sickly children, a condition associated with a loss of soul; parents who had a history of losing children early would also make fictive kinship bonds with subsequent children in the hope that it would ensure their survival. More vitally, the ghosts of young unmarried women were a real anomaly for village society: they did not belong to their father’s family, and had no husband to perform the proper rituals for them. Moreover, people were reluctant to keep commemorative tablets for such women in their own homes for fear of their being haunted. For this reason, villagers often used to engage a medium to take care of the souls of such women. For example, beside the altar belonging to Kao Paak-neung, five dresses were hung for the spirits of the girls in her charge.

Although the usual word for “shaman” in Cantonese is probably 巫婆 mòuh4 pòh4, two quite unusual terms are used by Potter. The first is 問醒婆 maan seng phox, that is “old ladies who speak to spirits”, although the character 醒 séng2 can mean “to wake up” and “to give guidance”. The other term is 問米婆 maan mae phox, “ask-rice woman”, the origin of which he explains as follows:

The rice is essential for a medium’s contact with the supernatural. After the medium has gone into a trance with her head covered by a cloth, the spirit that possesses her tosses handfuls of rice around the room at any of its relatives that are present, thus helping to identify itself. (p.219)

(Incidentally, Potter also makes the intriguing point that the villagers considered incense to be “the spiritual equivalent of rice”, a kind of supernatural food.)

The appeal Potter’s essay is firstly that it transports the reader into a world where disbelief is temporarily suspended and secondly that the writer demonstrates the kind of fundamental courage Rainer Maria Rilke once called for: “to be brave in the face of the strangest, most singular and most inexplicable things that can befall us”. And as the poet goes on to say, the fact that human beings have been cowardly in this sense has done endless harm to life. Perhaps Potter can help us let go of some of this modern defensiveness and even make us a little bit bolder in accommodating the full range of human experience.

A sense of the milieu inhabited by these women is conveyed in the following short video about a Hakka-speaking female shaman.

Photograph: 香港錦田：刻有「喃嘸阿彌托」嘅石碑Stone inscribed with “Namo ⸺ Blessed Be, Glory to Amitabha” in Kam Tin, Hong Kong

Cantonese Podcasts: 陳文灝 Henry Chan Man-hou

陳文灝 Chàhn4 Màhn4-houh6 (Henry) is one of the most beautiful people in Hong Kong ⸺ not for the way he looks but for the way he does. At the time this short video was made, he was the only staff member of the Hong Kong Society of Herpetology Foundation [香港兩栖及爬蟲協會] and utterly devoted to the plight of amphibians and reptiles in the territory. It is an inspiring sight to watch him in action. And, of course, we can also enjoy listening to his Cantonese!

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Grammar points:

Henry tends to use the final particles 囉 lō1 and 啦 lāa1 a lot in ways that don’t always match conventional explanations. According to Yip and Matthews, 囉 “gives a suggestion that what is said should be obvious”, and can be used with the word 咪 maih6 = “then” to indicate “an obvious conclusion” (Intermediate Cantonese, Unit 23). The Sheik Cantonese on-line dictionary has various definitions, including “[final particle] showing argumentative mood or making emphasis” and “[final particle] expressing a changed condition”. Keep these in mind as you listen to Henry: it would seem that the very general idea of adding emphasis is what he often aims to achieve with this particle.

As for 啦 lāa1, we expect to see it with imperatives, with suggestions introduced by 不如 bāt1 yùh4, and as a marker of the items in a list (but not with the final item [?]). Sheik Cantonese has “livelier version of喇 laa3”, which suggests that its main function is to report changed circumstances and to indicate what grammarians of Mandarin call CRS (current relevant status). The idea of “liveliness” seems to mean that speakers use it to indicate that what they are saying has a bearing on the “matter at hand”, but even as I write these words I can’t help feeling that we are still far from grasping an essential use of this particle!

In the phrase 唔掂得, the word 得 dāk1 = is a verb particle used to express possibility or capability. Importantly, it follows the verb it modifies. So, in the phrase 又或者邊啲位唔掂得呀, 唔掂得 means “cannot be touched”.

順便 seuhn6 bihn6 is a very useful expression with the meaning of “conveniently; in passing”. This word has, I think, a sense of the English “and while you’re at it . . .”. There is also the sense, too, of “since you happen to be doing A, you might as well do B”. When you hear Charlotte say 有時過嚟幫手做義工，就順便可以見佢咁樣囉, she wants to indicate that she comes to do some voluntary work so that, “in the process”, she can get to spend some time with Henry.

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Vocabulary:

義工工作 yih6 gūng1 gūng1 jok3= volunteer work
圍繞 wàih4 yíuh5 = to revolve around; to centre on
對 . . . 有誤解 deui3 yáuh5 ngh6 gáai2 = to misunderstand so. or sth.
專登 jyūn1 dāng1 = on purpose; deliberately
脾性 peih4 sing3 = disposition; temperament
坎坷 hām1 hō1 = ① bumpy; rough, rugged; ② miserable; frustrating; in bad luck
畸士 kēi sí^6*2 = a loan-word for the English “case”; an instance
充公 chūng1 gūng1 = to confiscate
投放感情 tàuh4 fong3 gám2 chìhng4 = to project one’s feelings (onto sb./sth. else)
使命 si3 mihng6 = a (personal) mission (MW: 份)

This video lasts for 4:56 minutes. Scroll down for the Cantonese transcription, rough English translation and notes. To watch the video, click here.

To check anything in the transcription and for standard jyutping romanization, please refer to the Sheik Cantonese on-line dictionary.

The video also includes quite a number of captions referring to the species of the amphibian or reptile shown, together with a nickname. I have included all these inside square brackets.

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我叫 Henry
My name is Henry

噉而家係香港兩栖及爬蟲協會現時唯一嘅員工嚟㗎
At present, I am the only employee of the Hong Kong Society of Herpetology

● 嚟㗎 lèih4 gaa3 is associated with explanations, and adds a hint of what English might cover with the phrase “just in case you were wondering”. We meet a second example later on, in the sentence 噉係我哋其中一位教育大使嚟嘅 = He is one of our educational ambassadors

噉我平時主要呢，就攪一啲環境教育活動啦
Most of the time, for the most part, I run activities [connected with] environmental education

● The phrase 我平時主要呢 is literally something like “I usually importantly”, but I have tried to make the English natural. The use of 呢 at the end of a clause (when not an information-question particle) crops up several times in this video and may have to do with continuous states. Keep an eye (an ear) out for other instances in the course of the interview.

同埋都會照顧領養中心入便嘅兩栖爬蟲動物嘅
In addition, I take care of the amphibians and reptiles in the adoption centre

噉喺工餘時間呢，我都會以生態做一啲畫畫創造啦
In my spare time, I like to [會] make art based on the environment

● The modal verb 會 wúih5 is associated with habitual actions. English uses the so-called “present tense” (!) to achieve the same result.
● The character 以 yíh5 in 以生態 functions as a co-verb working together with the main verb 做 = to make (some creative artworks) using/making use of/based on the environment.
● In this case, 啦 lāa1 is being used to signal the items in a list.

亦都會行吓山呀
And I also like to do a spot of hiking

● Here, 吓 háah5 serves as an aspect marker. Yip and Matthews link it to what they call “the delimitative aspect”, which boils down to doing something “for a little while” (see Intermediate Cantonese, pp.74-75).

同埋都會去其他嘅 NGO 做一啲嘅義工工作囉
And I also go and do volunteer work at other NGOs

噉所以我一個禮拜入便時間都可以話係圍繞住生態
Therefore, you could say [可以話], all the time in my week revolves around the environment

● The verb 圍繞 wàih4 yíuh5 means “to revolve around; to centre on”. 住 (or 著) jyuh6 is another aspect marker covered briefly in Unit 19 of Basic Cantonese by Yip and Matthews. They sum up its function as describing “a continuous activity or state without change”. They note too that only certain verbs can take this marker, making it a bit unpredictable.

圍繞著大自然咁樣
Revolves around the natural world

標題：《我與兩栖爬相見歡》
Headline: I Am Delighted to Meet Amphibians and Reptiles

一般我哋嚟講嘅兩栖爬動物呢
Generally, the amphibians and reptiles we refer to in conversation [嚟講]

Here, 嚟講 is not the one we usually meet in phrases such as 對於我嚟講 = as far as I am concerned. Instead, it means something like “come to speak of”.

多人熟悉嘅
The ones most people are familiar with

有青蛙啦、或者娃娃魚啦
Are frogs or salamanders

● Here is another instance of 啦 lāa1 being used to signal the items in a list.
[Caption: 虎紋蠑螈豆豆 / The Tiger-striped Salamander, “Dau Dau”]

龜啦、蛇啦、蜥蜴、[Caption: 東部箱龜 / Eastern Box Tortoise] 甚至 eh 鰐魚咁樣嘅
Tortoises, snakes, lizards, and even crocodiles and such

[Caption: 血蟒爬妹 / Sumatran short-tailed python, “Little Sister Paa”]

點解當初想，啫，選擇呢份工呢
Why initially did I want to pick this job?

又或者我覺得係兩爬選擇咗我
Perhaps instead I felt that the amphibians and reptiles picked me

● 又 yauh6 has a special role to play in the Cantonese organization of ideas. I have heard it described as designating “a parallel situation”, so it usually follows some previous statement with further clarification or, in this case, a kind of reversal.
● The full term for “amphibians and reptiles” is 兩栖及爬蟲 léuhng5 chāi1 kahp6 pàah4 chùhng4. Henry sometimes reduces this to 兩栖爬 and sometimes even further to 兩爬!

喺香港可能好少有啲機構係專做一啲兩爬嘅保育工作啦
There are probably few specialist organizations in Hong Kong that do work to protect amphibians and reptiles

[Caption: 星點龜 / Spotted Turtle]

好多人對佢哋有誤解呀
Many people have misunderstandings about them

或者忽視咗呢類嘅動物
Or have ignored such animals

[Caption: 北部鑽紋龜 / Northern Diamond Back Terrapin]

希望可以做一啲嘢
[I] hope to be able to do some things

[Caption: 東部箱龜 / Eastern Box Turtle]

運用自己知識去幫助呢啲動物
Making use of my knowledge to help these animals

呢個品種叫非洲球蟒啦
This species is called the African Ball Python

噉佢個花名叫波仔
His nickname is Little Ball

噉係我哋其中一位教育大使嚟嘅
He is one of our educational ambassadors

[Caption: 非洲球蟒波仔, African Ball Python, “Little Ball”]

因爲我哋其實譬如讀生態去野外睇呢
Because actually we go and study about the environment and go into the wilderness to look at it

● 野外 yéh5 ngoih6 = the countryside

我哋譬如見到一條蛇都唔會特登專登去攪佢
[When], for instance, we see a snake we won’t go out of our way to annoy it deliberately

● 特登 dahk6 dāng1 = “on purpose; deliberately”. 專登 jyūn1 dāng1 means the same thing.
● 攪 gáau2 = ① disturb; annoy; bother ② stir; mix; blend

噉所以嚟到呢度
So [when] we come here

嘩，要 ah 要拎上手，要照顧佢
Wow, we have to handle it [拎], we have to look after it

● 拎 nīng1 or līng1 = ① carry or hold with a hand; lift up ② to take away/out; bring over ③ to make use of sb./sth.

其實都係要一個心理關口要克服囉
Actually, there is a psychological barrier one must get over

接觸耐咗就發現其實
Having had prolonged contact [with them] . . . [you] discover that actually

好多蛇都 . . . 你只要知道脾性呀
There are many snakes . . . as long as you understand their nature

● 脾性 peih4 sing3 = disposition; temperament

又或者邊啲位唔掂得呀
Or which places cannot be touched

● Here is another instance of 又或者, indicating a parallel situation.
● 掂 dim3 = to touch. In the phrase 唔掂得, the final 得 dāk1 = is a verb particle used to express possibility or capability. Importantly, it follows the verb it modifies.

其實佢都會好 friendly
Then they will be friendly

In my experience, “they; them; their” etc. is often expressed by the singular 佢 kéuih5 when it is a matter of non-human beings and inanimate things.

對你冇戒心嘅
Without any mistrust of you

● 戒心 gaai3 sām1 = be weary of; cautious; vigilant; keep one’s guard up; distrustful
[Caption: 中國水龍單眼仔 / Chinese Water Dragon, “One Eye”]

噉我哋中心入便嘅動物其實都好坎坷
The animals in our centre have actually had a miserable time of it

● 坎坷 hām1 hō1 = ① bumpy; rough, rugged; ② miserable; frustrating; in bad luck

譬如巴西龜呢啲
For instance, the Red-eared Slider ⸺ these

街市十蚊廿蚊買到一隻
You can get a hold of [買到] one of these for 10 or 20 Hong Kong dollars

● 廿 yaah6 = a colloquial way of saying “twenty”

[Caption: 巴西龜，Red-eared Slider “Ping Ping”]

少啲人有興趣會領養
Few people have any interest in adopting one

[Caption: 盾臂龜，皮蛋 / African Spurred Tortoise, “Preserved Duck Egg”]

通常陸龜都比較受歡迎啲啦
Generally, tortoises are rather more popular

陸龜 luhk6 gwai2 = (land) tortoise

[Caption: 凸臂鰐龜，小鋸鰐魚 / Snapping turtle (?), “Little Saw Alligator”]

噉亦都係我覺得，啫， 動物俾咗個 ah 「價值」佢
But then, too, [I] also feel, that is, in the case of animals, [once] they are given a “value”

就變咗 . . . 一啲人俾一啲物種嘅動物會被人忽視或者歧視囉
As so [變咗] . . . some kinds of animals may be overlooked or discriminated against

● 變咗 bin3 jó2 = a word showing consequence, i.e. “so; consequently”
● 物種 maht6 júng2 = species

要清潔呀、喂食呀
I have to do the cleaning as well as feed [the animals]

● Here, Henry Chan uses 呀 āa1 (?) to indicate the items in a list. I cannot say whether 啦 lāa1 and 呀 are simply alternatives, or whether some underlying rule determines which one is used . . .

做一啲記錄呀
Do some record-keeping

有病嘅，甚至幫手喂藥之類啦
I even help to give the sick ones [有病嘅] their medicine

● Note the use of 嘅 ge3 here. It forms an indefinite noun meaning “the sick ones” or “the ones that are sick”. We have already encountered this use of 嘅 to make indefinite nouns in the phrase 多人熟悉嘅 = The ones most people are familiar with

好小嘅譬如搬搬抬抬，同埋聽電話接缐嘅
Minor duties include doing a bit of lifting and carrying [搬搬抬抬] and answering the phone

都 . . . 都需要幫手
I help out doing all these

有一批鑽紋龜啦
There was a group of Diamondback Terrapins

佢，其實，嗰畸士一開頭有充公返嚟一百幾隻嘅
The group [佢], as a matter of fact . . . that case [involved] over a hundred tortoises that were first of all confiscated

● 畸士 kēi sí^6*2 = case. It is sometimes also written as K事.
● 充公 chūng1 gūng1 = to confiscate

但因為本身佢可能走私運送途中啦
But because itself they were probably on the way to be being smuggled somewhere

● 本身 bún2 sān1 = itself. This usually comes after the thing it modifies, but I have the feeling that佢 kéuih5 is implicit here: 但因為佢本身佢可能. It has been omitted to avoid repetition.

已經可能好受壓呀，已經好多病呀
They had already been put under a lot of pressure and had many illnesses

太擠迫呀，嚟到已經救唔返
Too crowded together, and by the time they came [here] it was too late to save them

● 擠迫 zāi1 bīk1= cramped (?)

噉最尾而家得返九隻
[Until] finally there were only nine left just now [而家]

● There is a tone-change in 最尾 jeui3 mēi5*1, meaning “final; last place” according to Sheik Cantonese. Here, “finally” seems more suitable.

當我清理佢哋嘅尸體時候
When I checked the corpses of the dead tortoises

● 清理 chīng1 léih5 = to clear; to put in order; to check up

都見到，啊，尋日仲好好哋嘅
I could see that, ah, they were still OK yesterday

但係今日突然間已經走咗
But today suddenly they were gone

●  Here, 今日 gām1 yaht6 sounds as if it is being pronounced *gam at.

不過，其實，eh 而家對得耐咗都習慣嘅
However, now, as a matter of fact, having faced [such things] for a long time, I am used to it

● I am not sure about 對得耐咗. My understanding is that 對 deui3 is a verb meaning “to face”, followed by a resultative (?), giving us “to face (something) for a long time”. The aspect marker 咗 jó2 suggests that the speaker has already realized this long-term facing of animal death and has therefore become accustomed to it. Compare this to an earlier comment Henry makes: 接觸耐咗就發現其實 = Having had prolonged contact [with them] . . . [you] discover that actually.

我投放感情比較多，所以反彈比較大囉
I project my feelings [into the animals] quite a bit, . . . the rebound is big

● 投放 tàuh4 fong3 = to put into circulation; to throw in
● 反彈 fáan2 daahn6 = (to?) rebound; rebound

所以以後，啫，可能有啲新嚟嘅動物
So after [this], that is, perhaps some new animals will come

就 . . . 可能冇咁擺太多感情落去
Then . . . I don’t think I’ll put so much of my emotions into [them]

● It is unusual to say 可能冇咁擺太多感情落去, but the man is clearly very upset at this point. Normally, one would say可能唔會擺太多感情落去.

因爲驚走之後
Because I worry that [if/when] they die

唔開心咁樣
I’ll be unhappy

Charlotte speaks:

有時過嚟幫手做義工
Sometimes [I] come over and help out as a volunteer

就順便可以見佢咁樣囉
And in the process [順便] I can get to see him

● 順便 seuhn6 bihn6 = conveniently; in passing. This word has, I think, a sense of the English “and while you’re at it . . .”.

噉我都知佢忙嘅，係呀
I know he’s busy, yes

● Here, 都 dōu1 seems to add emphasis, rather than to mean “also”.

噉所以我都盡量睇吓有啲咩
So I do everything I can to see if there is anything

可以用我自己嘅方法大家夾
I can do to bring us together [夾] using my own methods

● The character 夾 gaap3 has quite a number of meanings. I recently came across 河國榮 Gregory Rivers using it to mean “compatible; on the same wavelength”: 噉啱發覺我身邊啲朋友 / 全部都係香港人 / 啫，我哋，唔知點解我哋好夾嘅. However, in this context, Charlotte seems to use it to mean “to come up with a time or to agree on a time” when both of them are free.

一啲共同嘅時間出嚟咁樣
To have some shared time [共同嘅時間] to go out

啫，我哋讀書呀、讀嘅嘢呀，出嚟做嘢呀、甚至係放工得閑做嘅嘢
I mean, our study, the things that we study, our going out to work, and even the things we do in our free time

● In this list, Charlotte uses 呀 āa1 to enumerate the individual items.

都係同自然生態有關咁樣
Are connected with the natural environment

Henry speaks again:

Eh 有時都會幾攰，但係有滿足感嘅
Sometimes [I] am quite tired, but feel a satisfaction

用盡每一分每一秒囉，可以話
Having made use of every minute and every second, you could say

因爲都係有份使命喺度啦
Because there is [a sense of] a mission here

因爲如果譬如我唔喺度嘅
For instance, if I weren’t around

咁就冇人再照顧中心入便嘅動物
There’d be no one to take care of the animals in the centre any more

都提住自己唔好咁易去放棄呢樣嘢囉
A reminder [提著] to oneself not to give up this thing

● From the context, 提住（著）seems to mean “to remind” or “keep reminding oneself”. In Unit 19 of Basic Cantonese, Yip and Matthews point out that “verb + jyuh6 can mean something different from the simple verb by itself” (p.101).

“In June, it’s raining last year’s rain” by Woo Sai Nga, translated by Audrey Heijns

The rain beats down, cultivating flowers that can fly
while waiting for the rain to stop, people look around
their pupils filled with pools of water,
they let themselves waver
more easily by the rain

The umbrellas are in dire straits, hems are about to fly
Tree trunks that got soaked appear deeper
and tougher than human beings

The sun sets, the sun rises
and it still keeps on
raining

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

〈六月，天空下著去年的雨〉／ 胡世雅

雨擊落，種出會飛的花
等雨停的人東張西望
把水窪都納進眼瞳
讓自己更容易
被雨動搖

傘很狼狽，衣擺欲飛
被淋濕的樹幹比起人
擁有更深沉堅硬的神色

日落下去，日升上來
而雨
還在下

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

● Woo Sai Nga, born in Hong Kong, is a member of Fannou Poetry Society. She graduated from the Chinese Department, Baptist University of Hong Kong in 2017 and is now teaching at a secondary school. She publishes poems in literary magazines in Hong Kong and Taiwan, and has won the Youth Literary Award (青年文學獎) and the Award for Creative Writing in Chinese (中文文學創作獎) in Hong Kong. She was the leader of the workshop “Literary Convergence ⸺ May Fourth Hong Kong”, Theatre-in-Education Project (Reading and Writing), held at the Hong Kong Literature Research Centre, The Chinese University of Hong Kong in 2019/20.

● Audrey Heijns, based in Hong Kong, is working at Shenzhen University. Her translations of Chinese literature have been published in literary magazines, including Het Trage Vuur, Twee Ronde, KortVerhaal, Terras, Renditions, Exchanges and Poetry International.

King of the Hong Kong Kids: Hongkong by Martin Hürlimann (1962)

My sense is that this book is really primarily about the people of Hong Kong. Since it was published as part of Atlantis Verlag’s “Städtebände” (city volumes), however, it features photographs of much of the typical hardware of the place, arranged in sections such as “In the Harbour of Hong Kong”, “On the Streets of Victoria”, “Around Hong Kong Island” and “In the New Territories”. Hürlimann handles such material expertly, but he only really convinces the reader-viewer of his excellence in the pictures he groups under the heading “DIE KINDER VON HONGKONG (The Children of Hong Kong).

Here, he hardly ceases to amaze with his ability to capture the absorption of children in their reading, in their games, or in the simple pleasure of one another’s company. He was able to do this because in the 1960s children in Hong Kong still lived a large part of their lives outdoors, gathering on the stairs, in the sheltered arcades of shops, or ⸺ as in the image featured in this report ⸺ in small bookstalls. As the relevant caption puts it: “Auf den Treppen der Pottinger Street finden die Buchstände eifrige Besucher”, that is: “Bookstores find eager visitors on the steps of Pottinger Street”.

I can’t read German and, if you don’t either, it poses no obstacle to a deep enjoyment of this work. The written material included here, just from my random sampling with a German to English on-line translator, suggests that it is all informational in type and, as such, can be found elsewhere in English. But if you know German, then it is clear that you will have a mine of Kongological information at your fingertips.

Two sections which particularly appeal to me are in den new territories (In the New Territories) and tempel (Temple). In the former, there are several images of impeccably kept fields near Clearwater Bay Road as well as Fanling, one of a walled village in Kam Tin (which appears to have part of its moat intact), and five images taken on the island of Cheung Chau, including a crowded market scene and an aerial shot (“wie sie sich beim Anflug Hongkongs von Westen her zeigt” = as seen from the approach of Hong Kong from Western [sic]).

The section on temples is tiny, with only two photographs, one of the ever-popular Wong Tai Sin Temple in Kowloon. The second picture shows the main Tin Hau Temple in Sai Kung, and gives you some idea of how things must have looked before the waterfront development took place. It is quite similar to the following image, taken by Bryan Panter in 1957.

Another special feature of this book are the photographs collected under the heading FLÜCHTLINGSSIEDLUNGEN (Refugee settlements), including a very ramshackle squatter village built on the side of a hill. As a contrast, Hürlimann also provides several photos of the new housing estates, often built side by side like wafer biscuits stacked inside their packet. This was the beginning of the massive urbanization that took place in Hong Kong after 1949, but at this stage the apartment blocks were still largely limited to six or so storeys: the residential sky-scrapers of today were yet to appear.

After having read-viewed Hongkong, I was intrigued enough to want to find out more about Martin Hürlimann, and was even more intrigued to discover that there is not a single photograph of him to be found on the internet. Is this something many makers of photographs do, I wondered ⸺ hide themselves in all the photographs they take of other people and places?

In many ways, Hürlimann’s work left me yearning for some lyrical evocation of Hong Kong. Actually, this is quite hard to find, and to date I have only come across traces of it in the writings of Martin Booth on the Buddhist temple of Po Lin (in three of his books: The Dragon and the Pearl, Hiroshima Joe, and Gweilo) and in G.S.P. Heywood’s Rambles in Hong Kong. But there is one colour picture captioned “Die Bucht von Sai Kung” (Sai Kung Bay) that makes up for the want of poetry elsewhere: taken from the top of a hill, it shows green fields running down to the foreshore, then blue, sparkling sea-water, numerous small islands covered in verdant foliage, and then the taller, darker mountains of the larger islands, that eventually dissolve into both sea and sky at the shimmering horizon line. Its impact is rendered all the more powerful in that it reveals something of the natural beauty of Hong Kong that is on the point of being lost to us forever.

Cantonese Podcasts: Hong Kong Newts

When I was living in the village of Cheung Shue Tan back in the late 1990s, I would often walk up to 大埔滘 Tai Po Kau just to unwind a bit. If you sit down beside one of the mountain streams up towards the picnic area and watch the crystal-clear water patiently, eventually you will catch a glimpse of the schools of small fish strong enough to hold their own against the current. Once or twice, to my surprise, I also saw small creatures with legs like lizards moving through the water in slow-motion like space-walking astronauts. What I saw, perhaps, was the Hong Kong newt.

This newt (or 香港瘰螈 Hēung1 Góng2 ló2 yùhn4 in Cantonese) was once thought to be unique to Hong Kong and so for a time served as an animal-totem or mascot of the Region. In her book Hong Kong (1988), Jan Morris includes it in her list of “esoteric wildlife” to be found in the Colony: “there were also crab-eating mongooses, an unusual variety of newt, 200 kinds of butterfly and thirty-two kinds of snake” (18).

Although specimens of Paramesotriton hongkongensis have been since discovered in coastal areas in Guangdong province, concerned individuals such as 陳文灝 Henry Chàhn4 Màhn4-houh6 and the self-effacing Ah Sam continue to make efforts on behalf of this threatened animal in Hong Kong. In this short video, made in 2016, the problem of catchwaters is outlined, as well as the impact these have on the newts, which prefer the waters of mountain streams in which there are large rocks to soften the force of the flow.

There is plenty of useful vocabulary here for eager students of Cantonese, including 陷阱 haahm6 jehng6 = trap; 生猛 sāang1 máahng5 = full of life; lively; 栖息 chāi1 sīk1 = to inhabit; and 耗費 hou3 fai3 = to expend (energy). As for grammar, there are some noteworthy uses of classifiers or measure words, 條 tìuh4 being the measure word for “newt”. In addition, we are treated to a couple of instances of 嗮 saai, a “particle of quantification” (see Intermediate Cantonese by Yip and Matthews) ; several uses of 啫 jē1 (“merely; only”), that very handy downplaying final particle; and one example of 冇得, a verbal structure that seems to indicate a general inability to do something.

You can watch the video here, but if you would like to see the Cantonese transcription with a rather patchy (my apologies!) English translation, then please read on.

To check anything you’re not sure about, please refer to the Sheik Cantonese on-line dictionary for further help.

Finally, there’s a very moving and heart-lifting video about 陳文灝 Henry Chan Man-hou in Cantonese here. Unfortunately, it has no English subtitles, but the man’s passion for animal protection comes through pretty clearly, nonetheless!

Photograph:香港大埔滘：香港瘰螈 Hong Kong Newt, Tai Po Kau, Hong Kong (Thomas Brown on Flickr, 2011)

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Headline: 引水道變奪命深淵：近危動物死路一條

● 引水道 yáhn5 séui2 douh6 = a catchwater ● 奪命 dyuht6 mihng6 = a life plucked away; a life taken away by force ● 深淵 sām1 yūn1 = abyss ● 近危動物 káhn5 ngàih4 duhng6 maht6 = (?) endangered animal

Catchwaters Become Deadly Abysses: A Death Road for an Endangered Animal

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

一年前我哋報道過
A year ago, we ran a report

郊區引水道壁
(About how) the walls of catchwaters in non-urban areas

● Note: The noun 郊區 gāau1 kēui1 is a bit of an interesting problem. Dictionaries such as Sheik Cantonese give the meaning as “suburban district; suburbs; outskirts”, but since country parks in Hong Kong are known as 郊野公園, the meaning in this context virtually equates with “non-urban areas”, that is, areas where wildlife is still able to flourish.

From A Sip of Tea by Ye Si, translated by Audrey Heijns (5)

186, Hong Kong

A German woman, who had lived in Paris for ten years, said: ‘I spent the best ten years of my life there.’ Then she came to Hong Kong and said: ‘This looks like a very lively place, so many people!’

＊   ＊   ＊

There’s a foreigner who has lived in Hong Kong for more than ten years. He can order dishes in a restaurant, but the only words in Chinese he can say are: ‘I’ve got an upset stomach.’

＊   ＊   ＊

A foreigner in Hong Kong once said that the existence of a colony is an absurd reality. He wants a writer from abroad to suggest a method to change that. This type of person always wants someone else to come up with a solution. Thereby forgetting that there are people who live here. And forgetting that he too exists in this absurd reality, that he’s a part of it.

 

186 香港

一個在巴黎住了十年的德國女子，她說：「我最好的十年全在那裡度過了。」來到香港，她說：「這似乎是個很有活力的地方，這麼多人！」

一個在香港住了十多年的外國人。他會點菜，他唯一懂用中文說的幾個字是：「肚子不好。」

一個住在香港的外國人說，殖民地的存在，是荒謬的事實，他要一位外來的作者提出一個方法改變它。這種人總是要求人提出答案給他。本身卻忽略了住在這兒的人，忽略了他自己也是存在於這荒謬的事實中，是其中一份子。

 ……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Other poems from this series:

21, Cold after the rain
46, Taste
83, Winter
183, Weather

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

● Ye Si, pen name of Leung Ping Kwan (1949-2013), is a celebrated Hong Kong poet, essayist, fiction writer and photographer. He has published many volumes of poetry, essays and stories, including: Paper Cuts (1982), City at the End of Time (1992), Foodscape (1997), Travelling with a Bitter Melon (2002), Postcards from Prague (2000) and Postcolonial Affairs of Food and the Heart (2009). He was Chair Professor of Comparative Literature and Director of the Centre for Humanities Research at Lingnan University in Hong Kong.

●Audrey Heijns, based in Hong Kong, is working at Shenzhen University. Her translations of Chinese literature have been published in literary magazines, including Het Trage Vuur, Twee Ronde, KortVerhaal, Terras, Renditions, Exchanges and Poetry International.

Photograph: Hong Kong in Darkness and Light (Audrey Heijns)

Gregory Rivers, a Superman Cantonese-learner

Gregory Rivers is one of my Superpeople of Cantonese-learning, and not just because he happens to be Australian!

After falling in love with Cantonese pop-music as a medical student at university, he plucked up the courage to buy a one-way ticket to Hong Kong in the 1980s, and since then, he has gone from strength to strength. His story is particularly intriguing because Rivers has nothing of the polyglot about him. His obsession was with Hong Kong, and learning the language was his best way into that world. His story demonstrates the role passion and commitment plays in language-learning, as well as the overpowering attraction a different culture can exert on someone remote from it by birth in so many ways.

The following short clip, a kind of brief question and answer interview, was first aired in 2016, and was produced by Arm Channel. The name “Arm Channel”, so odd at first sight, derives from that special Cantonese word 啱 ngāam, which means different things in different contexts, but generally boils down to “correct; accurate; appropriate”.

Unfortunately, there are no subtitles of any kind provided for this video. But if you like, you can read my rough Cantonese transcription below, together with an English translation. Otherwise plunge in here! The clip runs for just over 2 minutes.

And remember to use the Sheik Cantonese on-line dictionary for anything in the transcript that you might want to check.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

呢度係「啱」Channel ，我係河國榮，一齊睇啦！

This is Arm Channel and I am Gregory Rivers [河國榮 Hòh4 Gwok3 Wìhng4]. Let’s watch this together!

Q: 點解你叫河國榮？ / Why is your Chinese name 河國榮 Hoh4 Gwok3 Wihng4?

我以前讀大學嗰陣時呢，er… 我都係，即係啫，我鐘意咗廣東話歌曲之後，我都表演唱歌。噉呀佢每年都會攪一次，er… 國際晚會，就係希望大家都係一啲文化交流。Er… 張國榮啱啱攞到獎呀嘛，就係唱《Monica》。噉呀，嗰年呢，我就諗住，“哎，不如我唱《Monica》啦”。噉呀唱《Monica》之後，我個 friend 對我講，話，“你又鐘意張國榮。 Er…， 佢，佢嘅名又係「國榮」，你個名係 Gregory，不如你叫河國榮呀”。噉咪變咗咪叫河國榮囉。

Back in the days when I was studying at university, I, that is, after I got to like pop songs in Cantonese, I had never done a performance, singing [in public]. Every year they [佢] put on an international party [國際晚會] in the hope that people would get to share their cultures. Ah Leslie Cheung had won a prize with a song called “Monica”, so that year I thought, “Hey, why don’t I sing ‘Monica’?” So, after I had sung “Monica”, a friend of mine said to me, “You’re keen on Leslie Cheung. [Since] his given name is Gwok Wing and yours is ‘Gregory’, why don’t you call yourself Ho Gwok Wing?” And so, as it turned out, [my Chinese name] came to be Ho Gwok Wing.

● 變咗 bin3 jó2 = (?) “as it turned out” | I haven’t found a definition of this term yet, but I have heard it often enough to think that it must be an idiom meaning something like the suggested translation.
● I’m still puzzled by the use of 咪 maih6 in 噉咪變咗咪叫河國榮囉。Sheik Cantonese has a comment in a forum discussion that says: 咪 ~= 不就 in Mandarin, but it also defines it as meaning “(often used with 囉 lō1) then; as a result; might just as well”. For the time being, I am thinking of it as meaning “then”, sometimes with the added idea of “as a result” (especially if 囉 is present at the end).

From A Sip of Tea by Ye Si, translated by Audrey Heijns (4)

183, The Weather

The weather is changing. Wet floors. People slip. A feeling of stickiness is everywhere. Birds are chirping. Spring has not yet taken shape.

＊   ＊   ＊

Moisture on the walls. Something is going mouldy. Hazy mountain tops. Gazing into the distance at a patch of grey. A brightness behind the clouds. Something’s building up in my chest.

＊   ＊   ＊

Trivial. Wronged. Misunderstood. Unworthy. The flashing of screens, the flickering of shifting images, someone faraway is talking. Hens clucking. Wet carpets, in the hall of a building. Wood waste. Metal pails. Soft cloths are stretched out in the wind, so far out that they stroke someone on the face.

 

183天氣

天氣的轉變。潮濕的地面。有人不小心摔倒。四周黏黏膩膩的感覺。鳥兒的叫聲。未成形的春天。

牆上的水份。發霉的什麼。迷濛的山頭。遠望一片灰色。天空雲後的明朗。胸中積著的一點什麼。

煩瑣。委屈。誤會。不值。熒光幕的閃閃，畫面變幻不定，有人在遠遠的地方說話。雞啼了。濡濕的地毯，在大廈樓下。廢木。鐵桶。柔軟的布幅，迎著風飄起來，仿佛拂到人的臉上去。

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Other poems from this series:

21, Cold after the rain
46, Taste
83, Winter

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● Ye Si, pen name of Leung Ping Kwan (1949-2013), is a celebrated Hong Kong poet, essayist, fiction writer and photographer. He has published many volumes of poetry, essays and stories, including: Paper Cuts (1982), City at the End of Time (1992), Foodscape (1997), Travelling with a Bitter Melon (2002), Postcards from Prague (2000) and Postcolonial Affairs of Food and the Heart (2009). He was Chair Professor of Comparative Literature and Director of the Centre for Humanities Research at Lingnan University in Hong Kong.

●Audrey Heijns, based in Hong Kong, is working at Shenzhen University. Her translations of Chinese literature have been published in literary magazines, including Het Trage Vuur, Twee Ronde, KortVerhaal, Terras, Renditions, Exchanges and Poetry International.

Photograph: Hong Kong Cloudscape (Audrey Heijns, 2020)