My family has made Hong Kong our home for five generations. As I try and process the barbaric scenes playing out on our streets, it is clear to me that the Hong Kong I have proudly boasted of to outsiders for many decades is no longer one that I have any connection with. I have empathy for the people of Hong Kong, who deserve to have more certainty over their future, but the cowardly, degenerate thugs who rampage through our streets are from a world totally unrecognisable to me.
Among these scenes of depravity, let me share an experience which lifted my heart and gave me hope that Hong Kong just may find a way through.
I was standing on the Central MTR platform on October 4 when services were suspended. Emerging onto the street with many others, confronted by an eerie absence of any form of transport, I decided to head on foot towards Happy Valley in the hope of flagging down a taxi.
This walk was not pleasant. The streets, devoid of vehicles, were a sea of young dressed in the livery of battle, with clusters of press in protective gear. I felt like I was walking through a movie set. From Admiralty, down Queen’s Road East, I eventually reached the intersection by the racecourse. I was very weary and had discovered that my business shoes were not great for urban hiking.
At this point, I was out of ideas. It was late at night and, from here on, the walk to my flat in Stanley was going to get very challenging.
I stood in the vain hope of a taxi (or a magic carpet) for some time, tired, bewildered and despondent.
Then a car appeared as if from nowhere. Before I could leap out and prostrate myself in the path of this magnificent vision of conveyance, it had stopped beside me and the window was down: “Good morning sir. Can I ask you where you are intending to get to?”
The driver, who I will call Sam the Saint, had gone to bed earlier in the evening in his home in Ap Lei Chau. He was unable to sleep, deeply troubled by the knowledge that all transport had been suspended and, as a car owner, knowing that he was able to help. Sam had got out of bed and driven to where he thought he could help most. He had just run a woman home near Happy Valley when he spotted me.
Sam drove me home. We spoke as brothers do about our fears and hopes. He dropped me off and headed back to town to seek out others in need. He refused to even let me pay for the tunnel fee. Sam is my Hong Kong and while we have Sam making Hong Kong his home, there is hope. Thank you Sam – for so much more than the priceless ride home.
