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Chung Wai Ming recalls his childhood in Wanchai

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My family tells me I was delivered at home by midwives. At the time, we lived at 257 Wanchai Road. I grew up in Wanchai and got to know many children living nearby. What we loved most was playing football after school in the side streets which were quite wide. At the time, situated at the end of Wanchai Road was the warehouse of the Nanyang Brothers Tobacco Co; around the corner from Nanyang Theatre used to be their office building. That street was our football field. Below that were Morrison Hill Road and Tin Lok Lane; there was a tram track there. It wasn’t dangerous to play on the streets then as there weren’t many cars. Opposite were two buildings built of very expensive red brick. It was said that when the building was demolished, every single brick was taken away. One can imagine how valuable they were considered. It turns out that these bricks were extremely hardy. When the Japanese invaded Hong Kong [Editor --in 1941] the third floor of the building was bombed but the external wall built with red bricks was only very slightly damaged. The tallest buildings at the time were only four-storeys high, and those red brick buildings were four-storeyed. The building I lived in had only three storeys, with the roof just above the second floor. I remember playing there and flying kites. These are the beautiful memories of childhood.

School started each day at 8 in the morning, and at 12, there was a break for lunch; classes resumed at 1 and finished at 4. There were 8 sessions, each lasted 50 minutes with a 10 minute break, during which we could use the toilet or buy food at the tuck shop. After school, or after football, I went home to do my home work and learn some lessons by rote. Life was quite simple. I liked reading and hoped to gain knowledge from books. I went to bed at 9 every night. As my father often had social engagements, I didn’t get to see him as by the time he came home, I would already be in bed, while he would still be in bed when I left for school. However, every Sunday he had lunch at home. Before lunch, I had to present to him all the homework I had done that week. Inevitably he would encourage me to work harder, or tell me to be neater with my writing.

There wasn’t much entertainment to speak of. We didn’t even have a radio. One great pleasure was going to see a Cantonese movie with my mother on Saturday night, sometimes a 7:30 show, sometimes a 9:30 show. It always made me so happy, especially since there was no school the next day. Looking back, what I loved best was football. All it took was for one kid to call a game and every kid in the neighbourhood would come out to play and everyone had a great time.

In December 1941, the Japanese attacked Hong Kong and I could no longer go to school. With the family’s financial situation getting worse, it was impossible for my parents to pay my school fees. Also, out of nationalistic feelings, I was unwilling to go to a Japanese school, so I stayed home and read over my old school books. Later, some friends brought several books of classical Chinese literature such as “The Water Margin”, “Dream of the Red Chamber” and “Journey to the West”. I wasn’t very impressed by them at the beginning, but later, I became quite captivated. As our finances got worse and worse, I had to do what the eldest son must do and find work even though I was still a child. This helped some, and it was not easy to survive the 3 years and 8 months of Japanese occupation.

Life was hard and one was always hungry. We had to eat sweet potato vines and tapioca to supplement our diet. Whenever we had rice for supper, we were overjoyed. We would make a hole in the middle of the bowl of rice and put in a piece of lard, and then relish the taste. People today think that lard is unhealthy, but at the time, it smelt so fragrant to us. I was a growing child at the time, but I managed to pull through.

I went back to school after the war and entered primary six. However I immediately discovered that it was far too easy for me. Then, quite by chance, I read in the newspaper that the Shan Yue Actors Training Centre was recruiting trainees in filmmaking. I had always been interested in films, and was also keen to find a new career path, so I applied. The Centre was founded by “The fearless director”, Guan Yunqing after the war, with the aim to nurture young people interested in the film industry. Classes were held in Mongkok. I was such an ignoramus! If I had not read the notice in the papers, I would not even have crossed to the Kowloon side. I still remember the first time I took the ferry to cross the harbour, I asked someone where Mongkok was, and the person, very surprised, said, “This is Mongkok”. Classes were held in the Kwong Ming Studio, which was situated on 1, Kwong Wah Street. From then onwards, I studied film production. Guan Yunqing was very caring toward me, and even outside the classroom, he gave me a lot of guidance. He told me that if I intended to have a career in film such as becoming a director, I should start learning the trade by being a stage manager. So he gave me a chance to work as stage manager, and I did that for a number of films. Then, quite by coincidence, I took part in radio broadcasting, and that became my life career instead.

When the Japanese [Editor-- should be the Allies] was bombing Hong Kong, my father was working at the Everbright Printing Company on Luen Fat Street. The printing company was founded by my grand-uncle and his sons. I heard that my father also had shares in the early years, so that during the war, he worked there too. I remember one day, there was an air raid alarm, and it was said that the allies were bombing. After the alarm was over, the news was that Wanchai had been leveled by bombs. Because my father’s work place was near the Tai Fat Hau district, the first thing my mother did was to take me there to see what had happened. Since there wasn’t any transportation we had to walk, all the way from the far end of Wanchai Road, past the Southorn playground to Tai Fat Hau. It was a long way. As we were walking along the tram track near Southorn playground, I saw many corpses: there were arms and legs but no head, and it also seemed as if the bodies had been mixed with yellow mud. We had to step over the corpses to make our way forward. As soon as we got to Luen Fat Street, my mother and I were so shocked that we almost had to fall into each other’s arms and cry. What we saw was a big hole in the street. The printing company was at the other end of the street and we darted about to get there. Once we got to the shop, we called my father’s name but there was absolute silence, with no one there. Not discouraged, we continued to call out until someone finally responded. It turned out that they had made a kind of air raid shelter with pieces of slate used for printing, and were able to hide under it. It was such a relief to see my father. I heard that the allied planes were planning to bomb the naval dockyard but hit Wanchai instead. Quite a lot of houses in Wanchai were bombed out. This has left an indelible impression on me. It was 1943.





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