They blocked subways. An old man started screaming they are
doing it for the future of Hong Kong! And it took me three hours, two buses and
a lot of walking back to my hotel. Subways all over the city were disrupted,
with most everyone supporting the movement. Most that is.
On July 30th,
I woke up to a strange message under the
door noting the hotel:“is aware that a demonstration may be held in Hong Kong International
Airport tomorrow. While the hotel is operating normally and welcoming guests,
we are monitoring the situation closely and remain in
close contact with local authorities. Please be advised to check the availability of transport
services and allow ample travel time to
and from the airport. Due to some of the
roads may be blocked in several areas,
thus extra time for transportation is
needed.”
The protests were all
over the papers that morning, a vocabulary
of punitive motives pouring of the mouths
of politicians ready to condemn the protesters,
not the members of the Triad, who’d
beaten 45 protesters the week before, as
the police looked a way.
Fear of a crackdown is
everywhere.
Its inevitable, noted
one onlooker.
As we speak organizers
are languishing in jail for asking too many questions or organizing.
Others have
disappeared for selling books.
“Anywhere else in the
world, the leaders would have been forced out if two million people hit the
street,” said a woman on the subway,
when I mentioned Puerto Rico, where mass actions resulted in the resignation of
the governor. Seventy years old she goes
to all the protests. She worries about the state and the party
collaborating with the mob, the Triad. “Its no fun watching gangs beat up your
kids.”
The elders have take a
huge lead in the actions.
But so have the youth,
who largely dominated the subway action Laurie took me to.
I meet her at 7:3O am
at the Tiu Keng Leng stop of the Kwun Tong line.
About a half away from
my hotel, it would take hours to get home.
Laurie tells me we are just there to watch.
And provide support.
At some point, someone
is going to be sick on the train or block
the doors, she tells me.
We ride for a while,
get out, nothing.
We ride again.
Nothing.
And then we hear a
commotion.
The police are taking
away a man who tried to beat one of the kids blocking the doors on the subway.
The police are going
to the business at the airport asking for security footage of the attacks.
The businesses have been
sending their footage to the
media.
Soon the whole subway is
cheering in support of the blockade, against work, business as usual, the banality
of the everyday, and authoritarian rule.
“I want to get some
dim sum,” one man screams.
“You’re blocking me
getting to work.”
“You’re blocking me
getting to school.”
“I’m late.”
Every time the doors
close people groan.
When the doors open,
they cheer.
“Liberate Hong Kong!!!”
A man on his way to
work tries to get on the subway.
An altercation ensues,
with everyone calling him uncle.
“Uncle, can I take a
selfie with you?” they scream as he stands on the train,
Stone faced, as it stands
there.
Finally, someone says
stop, you got some jokes in but he is not the enemy.
I have been that guy.
The tension around the
actions is constant.
“These kids are fighting
for our future, for Hong Kong,” notes an elder.
Its their future, our future.
People applaud.
Finally, I say to Laurie
that I should get back and meet the family breakfast.
“Well, that’s your
train,” she says, pointing to the blocked line.
Signs say disturbance on
the line.
“There is a shuttle outside
the A exit,” says Laurie.
Walking outside, I see
people lined up around the building.
Its chaos.
Thousands and thousands
of people normally crowded on the trains looking for a line.
“Mong Kok?” I ask people?
People point around the
corner.
No bus.
I would have walked
but ten stops is a long way.
Finally, I jump on a
shuttle to another subway station.
The drivers cannot
talk to you so I follow the crowd to the next subway, which is also closed.
So I look for a bus.
A16 one man tells me.
Everyone helps.
The MTA staff are
working with everyone to get a ride.
It is pouring out.
And I don’t get back till
1130.
Caroline hadn’t heard
from me in hours.
And wondered if I’d
been apprehended.
Its happened before.
As
we’ve done all trip, we retrace steps
Anthony Bourdain has taken.
On
his Hong Kong episodes, he constantly searches for the heart of this place,
Looking
for small businesses, storefronts selling gadgets, noodles shops, places where
they still use the old bamboo method.
There
are only a handful left in Hong Kong.
One
is in Sham
Shui Po in Kowloon, Hong Kong, north of Tai Kok Tsui, east of Cheung Sha Wan
and south of Shek Kip Mei 石硤尾.
Walking we look at the ageless banyon trees, stumbling
into the Yen Chow Street Hawker Bizarre.
“38 years of survival
Carry Local Business” a sign declares.
People are selling all
sorts of materials inside, mostly textiles.
I drink some herbal tea with an old man, wondering
about this place.
Can the Hong Kong of
old co exist with the Hong Kong of new?
The struggle between
empires past and present feels constant.
News footage of the
subway protests is all over the news.
A Lennon Wall declares
the leaders in Hong Kong are liars.
News of the trade war
between the US and China follows,
more pressure on
China.
Business wants Hong
Kong to be Hong Kong.
Business is flowing to
Vietnam, report the papers.
The noodles are delicious.
Hopefully there is not
another 1989 style crackdown.
Afterall, the whole
world is watching.
Most favoured nations status
did not help China open up.
It supported authoritarian
rule.
But China can change.
South African changed.
Gay marriage changed
the US.
China can change.
One nation two
systems.
Or maybe one system,
open to everyone?
Later in the way, I got
texts from Laurie saying activists were doing jail support for the social
workers and activists arrested in the new round up.
History is anything but
linear.
It is on the move.
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