In the early days, when not a single colored TV could be seen in our living room; when we used to stand over a stool, cling our small hands on to the neighbor's grilled window and gawk, like a starved puppy for god knows how long while the kids in front of the boob tube play Nintendo Family Computer and then suddenly shut the wooden jalousies tight when a multitude of kids gather to watch as Super Mario stomps monsters to save an abducted princess, and start a ruckus over a tiny space to have a good view of the game being played, we learn some bitter truths about power structures surrounding a juvenile act of game watching.
The crowd dissipates and everything returns to normal. The windows shut tight earlier are opened and a few minutes later, kids from the surrounding houses would once again gather around the tiny opening to take a peek as tanks hit each other with pea-sized bullet in the game called Battle City. This time however, the power structures have changed. Aside from the kids playing the video game, there were those invited inside the house to act as intermediary between those watching outside and those who held the game pad. The most loyal of these intermediaries, in a strike of luck maybe allowed to play a game or two depending on the whims of the Nintendo owners, while some of those gaping outside maybe invited in, depending on his ability to sway over an intermediary to his side.
As the game continues, the intermediaries would change according to those called home and the new ones invited in. When the kids' parents show up in the living room, finding a multitude of grimy street urchins seated on the floor, (and sometimes hugging an alpombra around their skinny arms) the hierarchy would immediately be broken, the wooden jalousies shut tight again, and the kids holding the game pads will be forced to switch off the computer as the parents settle down to watch the evening news.
Those of us left outside would gather in our little clusters and talk about the game we have seen until the kids who own the game console show up and interrupt our conversation. Of course, they would receive a heroes' welcome in our narrow alley, hoping that those who made the best impression would be invited over when the kids decide to play the game next time.
It sucks to be drawn into the order, but as a kid who never had the material wealth of those of our neighbors had, to swallow the truth was far better than pretending having the power.
No wonder, the recent controversy surrounding Chip Tsao and his recent article about us being a nation of servants didn't bother me at all.
Because we are a proud nation of servants.
The crowd dissipates and everything returns to normal. The windows shut tight earlier are opened and a few minutes later, kids from the surrounding houses would once again gather around the tiny opening to take a peek as tanks hit each other with pea-sized bullet in the game called Battle City. This time however, the power structures have changed. Aside from the kids playing the video game, there were those invited inside the house to act as intermediary between those watching outside and those who held the game pad. The most loyal of these intermediaries, in a strike of luck maybe allowed to play a game or two depending on the whims of the Nintendo owners, while some of those gaping outside maybe invited in, depending on his ability to sway over an intermediary to his side.
As the game continues, the intermediaries would change according to those called home and the new ones invited in. When the kids' parents show up in the living room, finding a multitude of grimy street urchins seated on the floor, (and sometimes hugging an alpombra around their skinny arms) the hierarchy would immediately be broken, the wooden jalousies shut tight again, and the kids holding the game pads will be forced to switch off the computer as the parents settle down to watch the evening news.
Those of us left outside would gather in our little clusters and talk about the game we have seen until the kids who own the game console show up and interrupt our conversation. Of course, they would receive a heroes' welcome in our narrow alley, hoping that those who made the best impression would be invited over when the kids decide to play the game next time.
It sucks to be drawn into the order, but as a kid who never had the material wealth of those of our neighbors had, to swallow the truth was far better than pretending having the power.
No wonder, the recent controversy surrounding Chip Tsao and his recent article about us being a nation of servants didn't bother me at all.
Because we are a proud nation of servants.
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The Russians sank a Hong Kong freighter last month, killing the seven Chinese seamen onboard. We can live with that-—Lenin and Stalin were once the ideological mentors of all Chinese people. The Japanese planted a flag on Diàoyú Island. That's no big problem-—we Hong Kong Chinese love Japanese cartoons, Hello Kitty, and shopping in Shinjuku, let alone our round-the-clock obsession with karaoke.
But hold on-—even the Filipinos? Manila has just claimed sovereignty over the scattered rocks in the South China Sea called the Spratly Islands, complete with a blatant threat from its congress to send gunboats to the South China Sea to defend the islands from China if necessary. This is beyond reproach. The reason: There are more than 130,000 Filipina maids working as US$3,580-a-month cheap labor in Hong Kong. As a nation of servants, you don't flex your muscles at your master, from whom you earn most of your bread and butter.
As a patriotic Chinese man, the news has made my blood boil. I summoned Louisa, my domestic assistant who holds a degree in international politics from the University of Manila, hung a map on the wall, and gave her a harsh lecture. I sternly warned her that if she wants her wages increased next year, she had better tell everyone of her compatriots in Statue Square on Sunday that the entirety of the Spratly Islands belongs to China.
Grimly, I told her that if war breaks out between the Philippines and China, I would have to end her employment and send her straight home, because I would not risk the crime of treason for sponsoring an enemy of the state by paying her to wash my toilet and clean my windows 16 hours a day. With that money, she would pay taxes to her Government, and they would fund a navy to invade our motherland and deeply hurt my feelings.
Oh yes. The Government of the Philippines would certainly be wrong if they think we Chinese are prepared to swallow their insult and sit back and lose a Falkland Islands War in the Far East. They may have Barack Obama and the hawkish American military behind them, but we have a hostage in each of our homes in the Mid-Levels or higher. Some of my friends told me they have already declared a state of emergency at home. Their maids have been made to shout 'China, Madam/Sir' loudly whenever they hear the word "Spratly". They say the indoctrination is working as wonderfully as when we used to shout, "Long live Chairman Mao!" at the sight of a portrait of our Great Leader during the Cultural Revolution. I’m not sure if that's going a bit too far, at least for the time being.
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Let's look back at history and recall how things were in Hong Kong before Beijing took over more than a decade ago:
Hong Kong was, for a long time a crown territory of the British. It knew no struggles, save for a brief Japanese Occupation during World War 2. It was safely harnessed under the cloak of the British Empire while its neighbor China endured humiliations from the Japanese. No History geek would ever forget the Rape of Nanking and the Invasion of Manchuria. After Mao held sway over the Mainland 50 years ago, an uneasy peace existed between Soviet Union and China. Both were Socialists countries, and rivaled for spheres of influences around the world
There were several occasions when their bitter rivalry drew both nations to the brink of war.
Spratlys Islands are a group of outcropped rocks surrounded by the vast South China Sea. No sane Philippine Government would dare claim the entire territory for the country lest we are ready to face the ire of the entire region. For one, we never have Frigates to begin with, much more, we dont' have Fighter Jets to protect our skies. And our army - deployed down south, combing the jungles of Sulu for Red Cross Volunteers abducted (and threatened to be beheaded) by grimy Abu Sayaff bandits.
Most Chinese living in Hong Kong feel little about their homeland. The same is true with the Chinese living in Macao and Taiwan. It's a shame to learn that for someone as old as Chip Tsao, he knows little about the things he wrote, and for those of us, whose egos were scarred because of a lame piece of work - which his overlords in Beijing would never bother to read - especially coming from a territory they eye with suspicion for its Democratic leanings, I find the analogy of my childhood forthcoming.
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I imagine Chip Tsao being a lapdog; a famished, ugly Shih Tzu barking over some breadcrumbs scattered on the floor as its master, unmindful of the barks continues to cast its gaze over the horizon - over Paris Hilton - whose Chihuahua responds with the same loud barking sounds after hearing a fellow lapdog in the distance.
Hong Kong was, for a long time a crown territory of the British. It knew no struggles, save for a brief Japanese Occupation during World War 2. It was safely harnessed under the cloak of the British Empire while its neighbor China endured humiliations from the Japanese. No History geek would ever forget the Rape of Nanking and the Invasion of Manchuria. After Mao held sway over the Mainland 50 years ago, an uneasy peace existed between Soviet Union and China. Both were Socialists countries, and rivaled for spheres of influences around the world
There were several occasions when their bitter rivalry drew both nations to the brink of war.
Spratlys Islands are a group of outcropped rocks surrounded by the vast South China Sea. No sane Philippine Government would dare claim the entire territory for the country lest we are ready to face the ire of the entire region. For one, we never have Frigates to begin with, much more, we dont' have Fighter Jets to protect our skies. And our army - deployed down south, combing the jungles of Sulu for Red Cross Volunteers abducted (and threatened to be beheaded) by grimy Abu Sayaff bandits.
Most Chinese living in Hong Kong feel little about their homeland. The same is true with the Chinese living in Macao and Taiwan. It's a shame to learn that for someone as old as Chip Tsao, he knows little about the things he wrote, and for those of us, whose egos were scarred because of a lame piece of work - which his overlords in Beijing would never bother to read - especially coming from a territory they eye with suspicion for its Democratic leanings, I find the analogy of my childhood forthcoming.
---
I imagine Chip Tsao being a lapdog; a famished, ugly Shih Tzu barking over some breadcrumbs scattered on the floor as its master, unmindful of the barks continues to cast its gaze over the horizon - over Paris Hilton - whose Chihuahua responds with the same loud barking sounds after hearing a fellow lapdog in the distance.
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