Cast From The Herd Excerpt # 109: A Personal Guided Tour of Hong Kong

 Cast From The Herd:  Memories of Matriarchal Malaysia

M. Bakri Musa

Excerpt # 109:  A Personal Guided Tour of Hong Kong

The next morning after breakfast I strolled in the hotel’s spacious lobby and struck up a conversation with a Chinese boy about my age. He was there to pick up his airline tickets. He had on stylish creamy pants, not the typical handiwork of the “famed” Hong Kong tailors, and with his white shirt and blue blazer he looked very much like a proper preppy. He too was headed for Canada. In fact we would be leaving on the same flight that afternoon. That commonality bonded us right away. Yes, he had indeed spent the last few years in a British boarding school, hence his preppy style. The upshot of our new friendship was that he invited me to his house and a tour of the city. 

            I returned to my room to retrieve my suitcases. We went to his car and lo and behold, he had a driver! Without saying a word, the driver loaded up my suitcases and off we went. 

            Chris Tan and I visited the turf club (must be familiar ground to him) but it was empty. Nonetheless we saw beautiful thoroughbreds. Driving up to the Peak, I saw shacks along the roadside. Many were nothing more than holes dug against the hillside with cardboard boxes as roofs and walls. There were people living in them! I was shocked; I had never seen such squalor. 

            We parked at the top, and as soon as I opened the door I was swamped with touts. Hong Kong was nothing but tout city. Chris cursed in Cantonese to discourage them. Then as I was peering through the coin telescope to see the port and airport far below, a young handsome man came up to me. He looked out of place amidst the raggedly-attired crowd. He shoved some pictures of pretty young girls as if he was shuffling baseball cards in front of my face. He pointed towards some rickshaws nearby and in them were pretty Chinese girls. 

            “Virgins!” he breathlessly proclaimed. “Take two!” 

            I glanced at those young faces. They reminded me of my sisters. I felt repulsed and nauseous, mixed with homesickness. How could they do that to their daughters and sisters? 

            “Hookers,” Chris informed me. “There are better ones at your hotel!” as if recommending a dining selection. 

            Earlier at the hotel I had read in the morning papers that the authorities had stepped up guards at the border to stop the influx of refugees from China. Conditions over there must be desperate for them to escape to this wretchedness. As I reflected, I thought what a wise move for my prime minister to seek early independence from Britain so we could control our borders. Those desperate people would do anything to escape China, and Malaysia would be heaven compared to Hong Kong. Had Malaysia remained a colony, I could see the British dumping those refugees upon Malaysian shores. 

            Little did I realize then that I was witnessing the debris and detritus of the greatest man-made calamity of modern times then raging on the Mainland across. It would be a decade or more before the world would come to know of the horrific Mao’s Cultural Revolution. 

            Chris however, showed no sympathy; in fact he was downright contemptuous of those poor souls. He was from a different world. If I had any doubt of his affluence, that vanished when we reached his home, nestled among the woods on the hillside. I met his parents; they did not speak a word of English but from the sprinkling of English words thrown in, Chris was saying that I was his friend and that I too was headed for Canada. That pleased them. 

            A few more bags were thrown into the car and we were off to the airport. His parents stayed behind; no hugs, no tearful farewells. Leaving for abroad must be a common occurrence with that family, akin to my going to town. At the airport the driver unloaded our baggage and drove off; again no good-byes, no wishing good luck, or even a thank you from Chris, or me for that matter. At immigration, Chris endured an extended search while I was just waved on. Chris was unperturbed. “To these government idiots,” he told me later, “only drug-dealing Chinese could afford to travel abroad!”

Next:  Excerpt #110:  A Storm Deep In The Night