Marilyn Mansion

Chung King Mansion!!
First and foremost, this is late. I wrote half of it a week ago.
But back to that Saturday;
I was nervous as I walked in, but intrigued with what Dan had to say. Having visited the States before, I’m familiar with the bureaucracy involved with trying to get a visa, and the hassle and degradation one has to put up with. Hong Kong itself changed its visa laws two years ago, back then I didn’t need a visa and now I do, the process itself being complicated. I wish countries were more friendly when it comes to immigration, often these are people are capable of being very productive members of society and wouldn’t resort to anything criminal were they allowed an equal chance and a shot at life.
When I saw the two Sri Lankan ladies I recognized one of them as being distinctively Sri Lankan, I thought “uh oh”, and for a second there I debated being honest about my origin, but decided to tell the truth in the end. I often tell people that I am from the States, to avoid the ton of questions that South Asians have in store as well as the other dramas that follow from the “Aunties” when they realize I don’t speak the language. The ladies were on the edges of their seats after that, and I felt like it would be rude to choose not to be in their group. What I did not expect was the exchange that took place thereafter.
We started out introducing ourselves, the students had already prepared questions which they were to ask us, basic things, about what we do for fun, etc: We were with the two Sri Lankan ladies, an Afghanistani, and another lady with a head scarf that didn’t talk, just stared. The teacher seemed to expect silence from the last lady and everyone seemed to ignore her, halfway through her phone rang, she left to answer it and never came back. But back to the group, the Afghanistani was very enthusiastic and often his enthusiasm surpassed his English skills, I understood little of what he said, I did gather that he liked to shoot, ran a grocery where he sold guns and for festivals would slaughter sheep. He also likes to watch gymnastic routines. He didn’t seem too interested in asking me questions, and soon went to the other side of the room to talk to a Japanese student from West Highland(?). The Sri Lankan ladies seized this chance to ask me the characteristic questions one expects from South Asians, this is; where do you live? What school did you go to? What do your parents do? What ethnicity are you? I answered all their questions, trying to remain a little aloof; Sri Lankans are very class segregated but they seemed to put all that aside in their excitement at having found another Sri Lankan. Knowing that these were refugees and probably Tamil, I played up on being an outsider to the war. The Sinhalese would normally not be too fond of meeting a tamil refugee as they would just caption them as being a “terrorist”, wheras a Tamil refugee wouldn’t be too fond of meeting a Sri Lankan, that is the people that victimized her, and have resulted in her having to leave her homeland. By birth right I am Sinhalese, that is the major ethnic group in Sri Lanka but I’m mixed with a tonne of others, so I told her that my mother is a malay(from Malaysia- though this is not entirely true), and I told her that I was mainly burgher(dutch/Portuguese ancestry – which is true). The fact that I couldn’t speak Sinhalese must have affirmed that with them, the burghers are another minority, and a neutral entity in this war.
After the formalities were done with, the stories unfolded and the lady told us her story, that she labeled, “her problem”. She comes from a town by the beach centered in the Northern part of the country. While this areas is accessible, often it is frequented by the tamil tigers( the terrorist group), once, she told us they came over and told her and her family that they need to leave within 24 hours or they would be shot. She seems to have left her house and come back many times, just to leave again. Most of the land that she has, acres at that have been occupied by the tamil tigers. According to her the tigers claim that she is collaborating with the Sinhalese, as she herself is a Sinhalese, while the sri lankan army, based on her darker appearance presume here to be a Tamil and perhaps a Tiger. She has a lot of trouble in Colombo, she would often get stopped at a check point and on realization that she is from the north, and is darker in appearance they check her once even putting her in Jail and demanding a bribe for her release. The Sri Lankan police are very corrupt by the way and I cannot even imagine what it must be like for a Tamil person, they need to realize that not every Tamil is a terrorist or pro Tamil Tiger. Anyway her husband has been in jail for a while and at present is in hiding, living with his mother. I didn’t ask her why, I think she said that they framed him. She also told me that she used to be in Hong Kong, and had previously stayed here ten years. Growing up in Sri Lanka you learn not to be very trusting, and while I initially felt compassion for her, I really don’t know what to believe. While I am not sure I believe her story a 100%, she is clearly a victim in this war, and doesn’t have a very rosy future. She does keep occupied, and has “a sharp eye” as she says, only needing to observe once to pick up skills. As proof she pulled out her knitting and showed it to me, I think she learnt how to knit at one of the classes Christian action has for offer. They were both very pleased with the organization, it gives them something to do, something to smile about.
The other Sri Lankan was hard to understand, she is here to work and is currently employed, making 5000HK$ a month. She mumbled something about the LTTE but she lives in a suburb of the capital; Colombo, and is clearly Sinhalese, she is an “economic migrant perhaps?” She was also very enthusiastic and kept blurting out random observations and questions, not all of which I understood. But as she left I heard her telling the other Sri Lankan, in Sinhalese that I was a, “nice boy”.
I left Christian Action wanting to come back again, to volunteer with them. The teacher was friendly, the students nice, they all had stories and tales. The Tamil looking Sri Lankan had her story etched on her face, and her black eyes were filled with emotion. She had a gaze that was defiant, that screamed that she’s not a victim, that she won’t be oppressed, that she’d find a way to survive. At one point her eyes swelled up with tears, she said that regardless she loved Sri Lanka, and that given the opportunity she’d go back to it. I felt my eyes start to well up too. Meeting other Sri Lankans, specially ones so different from myself always starts some introspective, questioning process where I compare my life, my identity to them. I have spent my life wanting to leave Sri Lanka, and given the opportunity, she would want to go back? I distance myself from my own kind, but on Saturday, despite all our differences, there was a sense of kinship. I did however feel a tad bit ashamed, I live such a different life, I have no local identity.
Chung King mansion was interesting otherwise, people just zoomed in and out minding their own business, shopping, talking. The South Asians tended to gather together, while the Africans also mixed with themselves. It wasn’t a very friendly place, but neither was it unwelcoming. Having brown skin, I didn’t stand out by myself, perhaps an odd glance or two, but no jaw dropping stares. The building was dirty, and derelict, while the occasional white, budget tourist wandered to and fro. I can see how this place seemed welcoming to the South Asian/African tourist, Chung King mansion is their Diaspora hot spot, I almost felt as if I was in another country, I’m sure everyone else felt the same way.
I couldn’t talk to anyone, no one really seemed that approachable, talking to them felt as if I would cross that buyer/seller boundary, a boundary I shouldn’t cross there. Friendliness didn’t seem to exist outside of Christian Action. I couldn’t help but contrast this place to Hong Kongs other tourist- foreign areas; Lan Kwai Fong, Soho, TST, etc: where foreigners mingle, are friendly and would invite conversation. Chung King mansions patrons were less “internationalized/globalised”, and the site itself serves as a meeting place, a haven for its minorities. Having been there at night, the place is certainly different, I get stared at more with eyes that seem to inquire the agenda of my visit. This was one of the rarer times that I have been around the Chung King mansion area and not got offered drugs.
The world needs a shift in its mentality. We are all closed, within our cultures and our ways of life. Immigrants aren’t going to pose a threat. Hong Kong is restricted in it’s mentality, the world is restricted in it’s mentality, these people need a chance at life and they’re just stagnating here, it’s a sad situation. I was disgusted by Mustafas(?) comments on how no one would give him change for his money. I have no idea why the Hong Kong government won’t sign what it needs to in order to facilitate this process, and I don’t know why it holds such negative perceptions of the African minority. We need change!