I dedicated these stories to all the children born and raised in the old Hong Kong – at a time when everyone was poor financially but rich in value, deprived in material and yet abundant in spirit; when there was no television or video games to numb our minds but real life encounters and adventures that would fire our imagination and bare our souls.

1. The Ferry

        There used to be a ferry pier (the Mongkok Ferry) at the junction of Shantung Street and Canton Road, providing ferry services to and from Wanchai.  The pier was decommissioned in the early sixties when that part of the harbor was reclaimed to yield more land for development.

My family lived on no. 987 Canton Road, on the 2^nd floor of a 3-storey building that stretched the entire block.  I spent my childhood there until I was twelve.  Then the whole neighborhood was vacated and demolished to make way for progress.

I was around three years old, before I started kindergarten.  Shortly after lunch, my mom said she was going to take the ferry to Wanchai to do some shopping. The flat was home to at least three families and there were always people around, so she would feel fine leaving me in the flat.

“Mom, may I please go with you on the ferry?”  I had been on the ferry with my family for a few times and it was always a treat.

“No, son, I’m in a bit of hurry.  I can’t take you with me this time.  You play with the other kids.  I’ll be back in a few hours.”

“Please, mom!”

“No, Ah Yuen.  I can’t take you this time.  Be a good boy and stay out of trouble.   And don’t try to catch the fish in the fish tank. Your dad wouldn’t like that.  Play with something else.”  She turned towards the door.

I was not about to give up.  I was right on her heels, making whining noise that a three-year-old boy would make in situations such as this.  I pretended that I was crying, rubbing my eyes to see if I could get some tears for good effect.  It didn’t work.  It’s hard for me to cry even as a kid, not without a good reason anyway.  She took a look at me, went out and closed the door behind her.

I pressed my ears to the door and heard her walking down the staircase covered with creaking wood boards.  I knew mom could be tricky.  Just the other day, under similar circumstances (I was whining to go out with her), I found out she was actually standing outside the door, listening to my whining, to see if I would stop.  But this time she’s really going to the ferry without me.  I stopped whining.  I was not going to waste my tears for nothing!

For a minute or two, I was deciding on what to do to keep myself occupied.  There were always things to explore in this flat.  I could scoop another fish out of the fish tank and watched it flapping its fins on the table before it died, its mouth and gills opened wide.  I did that to a black angel fish a few days ago, and got into trouble with dad.  Or I could find another hiding place behind some of the storage boxes under the bed and stayed there until everyone was looking for the missing child.  But for some odd reasons, I really wanted to go on the ferry with mom that afternoon.  I just couldn’t get that out of my mind…I was pretty stubborn when I was little.

Having considered all the options, I dragged a stool to the door so I could stand on it and reached the latch that was placed high above ground so little children could not open the door and let themselves out.  I slid the latch, opened the door and let myself out.  It was a dark, long winding staircase but I was not deterred because I must hurry if I were to catch up with mom.

Once on the street, I was greeted by the bright afternoon sun.  I knew the direction to the ferry although I had never gone there unescorted.  Running to the left for two blocks, turned left, and the pier came into view.  I looked around for mom.  She was not there.  There was no one outside the pier.

I saw the ferry docking alongside the pier.  She must have gone inside.  I better hurry if I were to get on the ferry.  Slipping past the turn-gate and running toward the boarding gangplank as fast as I could.

I was out of breath and my heart went “peeta-pata” when I saw the last person getting on the gangplank: my mom!

“Mommm…mommm…wait for meee…!” 

You should have seen the look on her face!  She has every reason to get mad at me, I suppose, but she was happy to see her little boy running towards her, waving his arms in the air, wearing only underwear and flip-flops, tears (real tears) running down his checks. No mother could resist that!  She picked me up.  We hugged.  I believed the concept of heaven was invented to describe moments such as this.

We had a wonderful ride on the ferry that afternoon.  She took me to her favorite noodle shop in Wanchai.  We both had egg noodles with shrimp wonton.  Then we strolled along the streets and looked at some very interesting stuff along the way.  She didn’t buy anything.  I think maybe she just wanted to get out of the flat, to get her little boy out of her hair even if it was only for a few hours, and I managed to spoil her plans.

-To be continued-