Villager Lo Yuet-ping holds up an old black and white photo where he can be seen in the second from top right at the Cha Kwo Ling village in east Kowloon, Hong Kong, Sunday, Aug. 25, 2024. (AP Photo/Chan Long Hei)
In months, Lo Yuet-ping will bid farewell to a centuries-old village he has called home in Hong Kong for more than seven decades.
The Cha Kwo Ling village in east Kowloon is filled with small houses built from metal sheets and stones, as well as old granite buildings, contrasting sharply with the high-rise structures that dominate much of the Asian financial hub.
Lo, 72, has spent his entire life here and is among an estimated 860 households required to move under a government redevelopment plan. He said he will miss the rich history, unique culture and warm interpersonal kindness that defined life in the village.
“I’m unwilling to part with anything,” said Lo, who expects to be relocated to a newer district of east Kowloon.
The ongoing demolition of the Cha Kwo Ling village, set to enter its final phase in 2025, is erasing one of Hong Kong’s last remaining squatter villages, making way for public housing.
This settlement has witnessed the former British colony’s transformation from a fishing village to an industrial hub and finally to a global financial centre.
Originally a settlement for the Hakka people, a Han Chinese group, Cha Kwo Ling saw an influx of mainland Chinese immigrants over the years, just like other squatter villages in the city.
Some of the immigrants arrived in the city between late 1940s and 1950s, fleeing the civil war in China or seeking better economic opportunities. The influx swelled Hong Kong’s population from 600,000 in 1945 to 2 million by 1950, according to a government’s website.
Unable to afford housing, many built wooden homes in squatter villages. In 1953, an estimated 300,000 people were living in such settlements across the city.
Researcher Charles Fung, co-author of a book on the city’s squatter housing, described how people built squatter houses as part of a “catch-me-if-you-can game” with the authorities in British colonial times.
Fung explained that the government wouldn’t have to provide resettlement commitments for homeowners if it managed to demolish the structures before people moved into them. This led people to cut wood and build houses at night along hillsides where they were difficult to find, he said.
While the structures looked vulnerable, Fung said, the villages played a crucial role in supporting Hong Kong’s economy. They hosted small factories and were located near industrial zones, informally bolstering the city’s factory system during its time as a manufacturing hub, he said.
Now in Cha Kwo Ling, Lo expresses reservations about moving into a high-rise building.
He has built a lifetime of memories in the village, from being part of its Qilin dance team from a young age to serving on the volunteer fire prevention team. He worked as a driver in the village’s quarry, which had supplied stones to build the city’s top court.
“I’ve grown accustomed to living here,” he said.
Even after being forced to relocate due to fires, some former residents found themselves drawn back to the village, maintaining their ties to the community.
Teoh Bee Hua, a Malaysian who moved to Cha Kwo Ling after marrying a villager in 1973, kept operating her grocery shop there even though she no longer lives in the village after a fire. Teoh, in her 70s, recalled she used to chat with her neighbours and held barbecue and hotpot gatherings with them, saying “those were the happy days.”
She said she will shut her shop when the relocation time comes, marking the end of an era as she retires for good. — AP
