Hongkong -- City Of Contrasts

Auckland Star, Volume LXXI, Issue 225, 21 September 1940, Page 2 (Supplement)

Hongkong -- City Of Contrasts

By Muriel Cordeaux

FEW people realisethie extreme beauty of China. Ignoring the squalor, poverty and misery of sections of the cities, the country is almost breath-taking in its picturesqueness and loveliness. Gentle hills, greet one before one comes to Li Moon Pass en route intft Hongkong harbour. They are centuries old, their golden sandstone facea capped with coarse, grey, stubby grass, crowned by 1 stunted trees that have for centuries withstood the snarl £1 vicious typhoons, dreaded Wind Dragon of the seafaring people of the Far East. ; y Before coming to Junk Bay, where lie hundreds of little fishing junks huddled together like walnut shells upon the water, a concealed Uny is passed, la the not-so-far-distantt past this was the hideout and stronghold of pirates —real pirates that i preyed upon and boarded the big cargo junks ; coming from far ports laden with valuables. The pass itself, so close, so intimate, but with's water channel so deep, the •ea a dark green, carries ships safely and surely into the mighty harbour of Hongkong, that island city of modern commerce. To-day Hongkong harbour is filled with the great ships of manynations and battleships of two. Battleships, cruisers, destroyers and "mother •hips" with their submarines on each side of them. spread out wing-wise, something like a great water hen with its chicks. Hugs modern buildings assail one from all angles from the water. The marvellous docks and piers of Kowloon form the mainland side, and on the Hongkong side, towering into the sky, is that meeca of European residents, the Peak, sometimes veiled across the top

with a scarf of mist, sometimes stark and bleak against a wash-bjue sky. China, where is China? That is whatone must discover; and as if in answer to a mental cry along comes a large cargo junk, ite huge bat-like sail spread out to catch, the, errant breeze. It is manned often, jUst by women and young girls clad in a straight black tunic and long black trousers, their feet bare, their hair drawn tightly back into a long' shining pigtail. These women manoeuvre the long heavy sweep oar at the stern of the junk, lower or "pull aloft the cumbersome sail. Junk sails! How typical of China they are. Soma stiff and stern like the grey ribbed wing of a, giant bat, some patched with all the colours of the rainbow and some, 'well, just rags of sail hanging staunchly to a the sail ribs but still hoisted! «. *'■<■' The Chinese water gipsies—what a strange existence they have, being born, living and dying aboard these junks, very many of them seldom if ever going on dry land. They carry with them all their possessions, which generally include several hens and a rooster or two, often a motheaten dog, always a flower or plant of some sort, and a little bit'of rag flag at the top of the mast. At the stern of the junk is a small charcoal fire in a brazier, and the process of eating "chow" seems eternal. The family washing is done on board, generally in a cutdown coal oil can and in the most unspeakably -dirty water. The clothes are hung out to dry on long bambop poles which, thrust through the sleeves' of the tunics, make a line of ghostly scarcecrows in the dusk.

As stately liners come proudly to dock the water junks and numerous little boats draw alongside, small boys everlastingly hungry, everlastingly greedy, dive into the water to retrieve coins or other largess thrown to them and for which tliey scream aloud, "Aei, aei, monee, monee." The women join in -the general ' hubbub,/thrusting aloft large nets from 'the top -of bamboo poles. At last dusk falls mercifully, softly over the harbour, the sea deepens from deep green colour to black with a phosphorescent glow, little mast-head lights twinkle and the brazier 'fires in the sterns of the junks glow, sending up feathers of smoke. Contrast again intrudes as one turns once more to the shore. The Peak becomes a diamond-hung cone. Lights from a hundred gracious homes invite across the harbour, lights from the . roads spanning the hill dart into life, cars move like glow worms around the summit, and one realises that even if East and West can never meet, here at least they are on nodding terms.,, ' Shipping of the World _ On the are shijp. from • India, from Canada, from all oyer the ' world; British and Japanese ships rest ; alongside- one another, loading and "unloading their various cargoes. Shouting, screaming coolies work day and night, their heads bound round with, sweat cloths, bare legged, often an •* injured' toe'tied up with a piece of filthy, rag, their clothing abbreviated to a point of almost disaster; Swearing, cursing, laughing, playing, fighting, the great ships are loaded and unloaded.:One goes to the Hongkong side by ferry, pushing a way to it through pedlars of paper snakes, postcards, carved miniature chests and boxes, through labouring coolies, past tally men. Finally turning a stone-deaf ear to the cries of "Rickshaw, rickshaw," one ie literally pushed on to the ferry. In the harbour junks have the right-of-way,' of which they make the fullest use, especially if there is a little breeze —right across the bows of the ferry they sail for a breath-taking moment and away to safety. One lands at the Hongkong wooden pier generally with a crash. Down'goes the gangway with a terrific smash, for this is China! Everyone piuhes and rushes again to get off, to be again assailed on all sides by the yells of "Rickshaw, rickshaw." Everything in China that is animate is vociferous. All labour of any kind is performed with voluble argument, chattering and discussion. The clamour and noise of China is unbelievable, and silhouetted against it all moves the figure of the black-clad Chinese coolie woman, her wooden sandals ringing with a sharp "click! elide!" striking against cobbled streets . . . The heart-beats of Mongolia.