words yvonne teh

The question is do they consider themselves Hong Kongers?

The 11th anniversary of the Handover looms – but who cares? According to a recent survey by the HK University Public Opinion Programme, after a decade of ‘One Country, Two Systems’, a not-too-impressive 39% of Hong Kongers regard themselves as Chinese citizens. It doesn’t look like the national anthem before the 6 o’clock news is working the way the government may have expected, even though the numbers show the highest number of people since 1997 count themselves as citizens of the world’s most populous nation.

But while Hong Kongers bemoan their identity confusion, what about Mainlanders who have lived in the SAR for the past decade? Based on the 2006 Population By-Census by the Census and Statistics Department, over 210,000 PMRs (persons from the Mainland having resided in Hong Kong for less than seven years) have made Hong Kong their home. Contrary to the previous generation who came to escape from war, poverty or extreme political oppression, we consider our contemporary neighbours to the north to be quality immigrants. Last year alone, over 6,600 arrived in Hong Kong through the Admission Scheme for Mainland Talents and Professionals and the Quality Migrant Admission Scheme. The question is – do they consider themselves Hong Kongers?

Geng Chunya
Having graduated from Beijing’s prestigious Tsinghua University, Geng Chunya could have gone to MIT for a PhD and become an academic. But he wanted something practical – and where better for this than our materialistic city? Geng enrolled into the MPhil programme in the City University of HK in 2002 but from the first day told himself, “I don’t come here for study.” He was determined to start his own company in Hong Kong, and took advantage of the university’s central location to understand the city better.

While others treat Hong Kong as a stepping stone to go abroad, Geng had already planned to permanently base his business here. Now, instead of complaining of being discriminated against, as the media often claims Mainlanders are, he says he has been very well treated, if not spoiled. “When I came for studies I got $180,000 of scholarship every year from the Hong Kong government. I took part in various competitions and won a $1,000,000 prize to start up my business and I had no problem applying for a working visa.” He feels respected and considers Hong Kong a fair society. “Where is the discrimination?”

Geng also is encouraged by the openness of the local media but when we talk about the recent reportage of the commemoration of the June 4th incident, he says he is surprised how big an issue it still is in this ex-British colony. He believes something that happened almost two decades ago is the business of the previous generation. “When I saw Hong Kong students discussing it, I thought ‘You were not even born when it happened!’” he says. “So I wonder if we really know enough to actually discuss it?” The young entrepreneur would rather look forward with the hope the government does not make the same mistake twice.

Having spent the past six years in Hong Kong, Geng also feels – in sympathy with many other Hong Kongers – that our Handover celebration on July 1 is “a little bit too much. I think the government is spending a lot on the ceremony, but I don’t see how that can create more understanding of the country.” So does he consider himself a Hong Konger? “Of course.” And that’s why the 28-year-old insists on learning Cantonese, even though it has often been said half-jokingly that the dialect may well be dying out. “My children will speak fluent Cantonese as they will grow up here. And how would it look if their dad can’t speak Cantonese?” To him, it shows the respect he pays to Hong Kong: “Say if in 10 years I introduce myself as a Hong Konger, how will people understand if I can’t speak Cantonese?”

Li Yun Xia
From performing in front of political giants like Deng Xiaoping and Fidel Castro in Shenzhen to selling her works in the Arts and Crafts Fair at the HK Cultural Centre, paper-cutting artist Li Yun Xia has never had that ‘Hong Kong dream’ Li Ka Shing may share. Much of that must lie with her work as resident paper-cutting artist at the China Folk Culture Village in Shenzhen between 1991 and 2001. Those ten years constituted a period of her life she considers much better than the later period in Hong Kong. “I was very happy working there, I was respected and I got to travel around to perform,” she says.

Family, rather than career, brought her here. After marriage to a Hong Kong computer engineer, Xia decided to give up commuting to and from Shenzhen and settle in Hong Kong to take better care of her son and a mother-in-law who suffered from cataracts. Her colleagues warned her that no one would know her work and she would have to start all over again. Those words were prophetic and she found she had to restart her career here by teaching workshops and setting up a booth in the Arts and Crafts Fair. It was not quite what she had envisaged and, for the first couple of years, she found herself continually asking, “Why am I carrying a suitcase like a mad woman and sitting in a booth on the street?”

Li may not be sensitive to political or social issues in either Hong Kong or on the Chinese Mainland, but she is conscious enough to tell the difference in attitude between the two over traditional Chinese folklore and culture. She is often worried that no one in Hong Kong will understand the art of paper-cutting – to many locals she has met, a piece of paper that’s not cash is worthless. “They don’t know how much time, effort and emotion are put into producing a paper-cutting artwork,” she says. In fact, she is often asked if her works are done by machines. “They don’t know paper-cutting art is done by hands using scissors.”

Li now demonstrates paper cutting in schools and malls, and teaches in institutions like the Extension and Continuing Education for Life at the HK Academy for Performing Arts. As part of the 10th anniversary celebration of the Handover last year, she toured 30 schools to promote the art. The more media attention she gets, the bigger the difference she is aware of between China and Hong Kong. Once interviewed by a Mainland newspaper, she was asked to pay if she wanted the interview to be published. “I don’t know if I am right but I think the news in Hong Kong reflects the real things. My brother says he doesn’t watch the news in China anymore. Luckily he still has access to Oriental Daily.” She sees the difference in media attitude between the two regions as a spur for the Central Government to improve.

Li will be getting her permanent residency this October. Looking back, she is glad to be in Hong Kong promoting Chinese folklore and is happy to see her students winning awards in various competitions. She still questions why she works so hard in the Fragrant Harbour when her former colleagues or friends in Shenzhen tell her they go to bed at 8pm. But still, it is her family that keeps her here. “My son can say to his classmates, ‘This is my mum and she’s picking me up every day from now on.

Cai Chunhui
While economic competition and political intervention from China are considered among the critical issues Hong Kong faces, others include education concerns. We have heard enough of how intelligent Mainland students are compared to their Hong Kong counterparts, but for Cai Chunhui it’s a matter of sample size. “Those who come down to Hong Kong for studies are selected from millions of students, so I think the quality is guaranteed,” is his observation.

Cai enrolled in HK Baptist University’s undergraduate programme in 2002 with a HK Jockey Club scholarship after a month of training in Nanjing University. One of the first things that amazed him were the people standing in long lines everywhere. “When I first came I was curious why Hong Kong people were queuing all the time. I wondered what they were waiting for, because you don’t see it very often in China.” It somehow reflects the differences across the Sham Chun River. The student also noticed other changes after being here for six years. “I am not saying I would litter or spit everywhere before I came, but I have certainly become more aware of my manners after settling in Hong Kong” he says.

Neither Cai nor his peers on the Mainland thought much about national issues or patriotism – firstly because they didn’t get much information about such things but more importantly, they were too busy studying. Has the relatively free information flow in Hong Kong served as a cultural shock too? “I think I now look at things from both sides. And I won’t look at anything in an extreme way.”

He also observes that locals are becoming more accepting of Mainlanders, especially after the Individual Visit Scheme in Hong Kong and Macau was introduced in 2003. Before that he still remembers distinctly the discrimination when, say, he went out shopping.

Now considering himself a ‘half-Hong Konger’ and treating Hong Kong as his second home, Cai will be eligible for permanent residency next January – though he has not decided if he wants it. With plans to further his studies and research on biotechnology in the USA or Europe, a Hong Kong ID card probably just means a faster track to a visa.

When asked what this special administrative region means to him, Cai falls into a few seconds of silence. Then he says, “I have not thought much about this before. I think Hong Kong is much like other cities – for instance, Shanghai and Beijing – in terms of economic and city development. The difference is not as big as 10 years ago. But if you are talking about the spiritual level or the quality of people, there still a long road ahead for Mainland cities.”