Everyday movement, p.20
Everyday Movement, page 20
Panda and Ah Lei said hello to Ah Ming and joined a few others on the sofa. A balding, middle-aged man in a polo shirt spoke. “To be honest, I think the movement is becoming too extreme. We’re losing public support. In the summer, I came out to demand accountability for police brutality. But now, at rallies, some people are wielding flags calling for Hong Kong independence. That really puts me off. I feel like the movement has been hijacked. Honestly, the only reason I came tonight was because the police firing tear gas all over campus was just too much. I came to protect the students. Otherwise, I really can’t get behind the movement anymore.”
“I actually think it hasn’t been radical enough,” a boy who looked no more than thirteen or fourteen countered. “That’s why the government thinks Hong Kongers are easy to push around and keeps ignoring our demands.” The teen’s voice hadn’t changed, but he spoke with the self-importance of someone far older. “This is a turning point for the movement. I’m telling you, I’ve been out there fighting since June, and this is the first time I’ve fought a positional battle. Before, it was all street-level guerrilla tactics, difficult to sustain, and morale scattered easily. Some of my friends have been kicked out by their parents. We figured, while we occupy the university, we can stay here, and build up resources.”
Ah Ming took the hamster out of the cage and put it in the small bowl filled with sand next to the cage. The creature happily rolled in the soft mound. Panda glanced at Ah Ming and let out a sigh of exasperation.
“I disagree with you, little brother. Do you know why this movement has been able to last so long? Be water, my friend.” A young man cited the Bruce Lee quote that had been widely appreciated by protesters. He was trying to wipe the blue off his neck with a wet towel. “The essence of the movement is guerrilla-style flexibility. If we fixate on holding a certain ground, we stand to lose everything. The opposite side could surround us, and game over.”
“Besides, if we occupy the university, how will students attend classes?” Ah Lei said.
After the hamster’s sand bath, its fur was soft and glossy. Ah Ming found a pack of sunflower seeds and put a few in his palm and it climbed onto his hand and nibbled on the seeds.
“What kind of university student are you?” The boy jabbed a finger at Ah Lei. “Kids like us can’t even go home or go to school anymore. And you’re still worrying about university studies?”
“Wait—everyone, cool it,” Panda spoke up. “Look at us. We’re on the same side, but we’re pointing fingers at one another. This is exactly why our voices of dissent are too fragmented, why the government doesn’t take us seriously. If societal resistance is deadlocked, maybe it’s time to return our attention to the legislature? We should focus our strength to elect representatives who will actually speak for us.” Ah Lei noticed that Panda sometimes sounded not so different from her mother, but she’d never acknowledge it when it came from her.
“You think voting is going to bring about justice?” Ah Ming suddenly spoke without looking away from the hamster in his hand.
“We’re fighting like cornered beasts and have tried everything else. Why not give elections a chance?” Panda said.
“But the movement had erupted precisely because of our pent-up frustration with the legislative and court system. We were forced to take to the streets because the resistance within the legislature had completely collapsed. Remember how the government arbitrarily disqualified candidates, canceled the seats of elected members, and how the political parties sold out their voters?” The bystanders struggled to read the situation, so they let the couple fight.
“But things are different now! Public opinion has shifted. Hong Kongers used to be politically indifferent, but now we are waking up,” Panda asserted.
“Ha, the voters may have changed, but these politicians will never change. We can’t hand the little power we accumulated from these months of sweat and blood to a few politicians.”
“Whoa, the hamster just pooped in your hand!” the boy shouted.
Everyone turned to look and laughed. A few brown, rice-sized pellets rested in Ah Ming’s palm next to the fluff ball of a hamster.
* * *
—
After receiving the supplies, Sister Ka asked if Ah Lei and Mr. Lam could help out with some additional errands. They left campus in Mr. Lam’s car and did some more shopping. They were preparing to pick up an arrested student who was soon to be released. They bought white shirts of different sizes and some disposable underwear, toothbrushes and toothpaste, and towels. Ah Lei wondered how Sister Ka managed to maintain her hair on top of all her duties. She dyed her hair red and wore it cropped short, barely skimming her ears. Then they made a quick stop at an herbal tea shop.
“What’s this for?” Mr. Lam asked.
“I just felt like having some. I’ve been breaking out lately,” Sister Ka said.
It was a little after four. She led them to a congee shop while she waited for confirmation of the whereabouts of the young man. Mr. Lam and Ah Lei each ordered cold soy milk. They watched Sister Ka eating zha leung rolls. She dipped each fried roll in sesame sauce, sweet sauce, and chili sauce before stuffing the drenched thing into her mouth. When Mr. Lam went to settle the bill, Ah Lei asked him to get two tea eggs to go, then stepped outside with Sister Ka. Sister Ka lit a cigarette and told Ah Lei that Mr. Lam was a college classmate of hers.
“He was a straightlaced, goody-goody student. I was involved in activist circles and did sit-ins and occupied lecture halls. You know, back then, a decade ago, people were very conservative in their views about student activists. He and I didn’t see eye to eye.” Sister Ka blew out a puff of smoke. “Who would’ve thought? It’s all very different now.
“Actually, I’m glad that you two met today. I’ve been meaning to introduce you,” Sister Ka said. Ah Mak had been charged with unlawful assembly and destruction of property, which could lead to years in prison. Sister Ka and his lawyer reasoned that since he had no criminal record, if a trusted member of society familiar with his family background could write a letter to vouch for him, he could get a light sentence.
Ah Mak wasn’t that well-connected, and Mr. Lam, who was now in management at a reputable NGO and had been a social worker on Ah Mak’s and his mother’s case, would be the perfect person to write such a letter. Of course, he would have to risk being publicly associated with a protester.
“Do you think he’ll do it? It’s kind of a big ask,” Ah Lei said.
“Honestly, I’m not sure. But you saw him working so hard to help us today, so maybe something has changed now?” Sister Ka tossed her cigarette butt as Mr. Lam approached. “The kid is at West Kowloon Court. Let’s go!” she said.
When they arrived at the courthouse, Sister Ka instructed Mr. Lam to park on the street not far from the entrance. Ah Lei saw a few journalists holding cameras roaming nearby. “Keep the engine running. I’ll be back with the student shortly, and then we should leave right away. I don’t want him to be photographed.” She stepped out of the car with an umbrella.
It was just Ah Lei and Mr. Lam again. “Do you come here to bail out protesters often?” he turned to ask Ah Lei in the back seat.
“Only when no family members show up for them,” Ah Lei said.
“What do you usually do? Should we take him somewhere to eat? What should we say to him?” Before Ah Lei could answer, Mr. Lam’s phone rang. He finished the call quickly. “My wife told me to go home straight from work. She’s worried these days,” he said.
Then the car doors swung open. Sister Ka jumped into the passenger seat, and a tall teenage boy in a white shirt slid into the back. Several reporters swarmed toward the car snapping pictures.
“Shit, are they gonna get my license plate?” Mr. Lam panicked.
“Just hurry up and get out of here,” Sister Ka said.
Sister Ka typed an address into her phone, then turned around to look at the teenager. “You can stay with me for the time being. We’ll take you there now. I’ll help you settle in, but I won’t be around tonight. Do you want me to order dinner for you?”
“Are you going to be at the university?” he asked.
“You know you can’t go there.” Ah Lei slipped the tea eggs into his hand. “Eat them later. Don’t make a mess in someone else’s car.”
“Don’t worry about it. Eat them while they’re hot. This old car isn’t all that clean anyway,” Mr. Lam said.
The boy peeled one of the eggs and took a bite. He seemed to be very hungry.
After dropping off the teenager and Sister Ka, Mr. Lam offered to drive Ah Lei back to the university. Ah Lei knew this was her chance to ask Mr. Lam the favor. The request was so important that she struggled to find the right words to broach the subject. She had no clue what it took to be persuasive. Should she plead humbly or pressure him with righteousness? Should she stay collected and let her emotions show? She felt she wasn’t ready.
Now it was rush hour, and there was quite a bit of traffic. Waiting for the cars to move, Mr. Lam offered an unusually personal piece of information. “My wife has been thinking about moving abroad. We’re fortunate to be able to afford it, and it’s probably better for our son. But I don’t know. This is our home, our community,” he said, grasping the steering wheel tight. His phone rang again. Mr. Lam glanced at the screen but didn’t pick up.
Seizing the moment of openness, Ah Lei gathered her courage. “Working with Sister Ka, I saw firsthand that so many protesters need help. And so many kind people like you stepped up. Whenever Sister Ka asks, people send us meals and supplies, or even hand us cash, no questions asked.”
The car started moving. Mr. Lam’s phone rang again. He declined the call.
Ah Lei began to feel her cheeks burn. “You’re all good people. Sometimes, when I look at the abundant surplus of resources, I think to myself, wow, it’s like there’s no poverty in Hong Kong. You all have one condition: that we keep your involvement a secret.”
Ah Lei forced herself to look at Mr. Lam. “Earlier, you asked me if you were cowardly. I don’t know the answer.” He kept his eyes on the road. She couldn’t tell if he was putting his guard up again. She took a deep breath. “My boyfriend could really use your help. But it’s not something you can stay anonymous about.”
* * *
—
It was already evening by the time Ah Lei returned to her dorm room. Mr. Lam said he would get back to her, so the suspense wasn’t over yet, but she was relieved to have managed to ask him. She turned on the light. Panda wasn’t there. The place seemed forlorn. Panda’s bed had been neatly made, not a wrinkle in sight. The desk, usually littered with makeup bottles, was clean. Ah Lei realized Panda wasn’t coming back, at least not tonight. She felt a twinge of guilt. Maybe she shouldn’t have argued with Panda the night before. Panda had fled home to avoid confrontations with her mom, and now, she had to escape the dorm again because of their fight. Everything had been okay just two nights ago, when they made Molotov cocktails, and debated politics with strangers in the lobby. Why was it so hard for people on the same side to accept their differences? Why were friendships so fragile?
Before the fight started, they were getting ready for bed and chatting. Ah Lei told Panda about a young girl she had recently visited with Sister Ka at a hospital. The girl struggled to eat lunch. The handcuffs on her wrists clattered as she maneuvered the chopsticks. In another bed was a boy, maybe fifteen or sixteen. A couple of police officers watched nearby. The boy was very thin and wore glasses with cracked lenses.
“I think this visit broke me a little bit,” Ah Lei confided as she changed into her pajamas. “People say we are the generation of transition. Transitioning to what? I began to feel we have no place to stand in our own society. The kids younger than us are made to pay dearly for fighting for justice.”
Panda nodded in agreement as she rubbed moisturizer onto her face. “Only when more people speak up will these kids be protected. Our parents’ generation could really do more. I think they should feel guilty about the whole thing.”
Ah Lei had known Panda was sensitive when it came to her mother, so she always avoided the subject. But having visited her parents’ place lately, she increasingly felt Panda was being unreasonable. Suddenly, she couldn’t hold back. “Your mom already can’t sleep at night. What more do you want her to suffer?”
“Shouldn’t middle-aged people feel even the slightest guilt about what’s happening? About what Hong Kong has become?” Panda’s agitation was now shifting to Ah Lei.
“What did they do wrong? Is this their fault? They didn’t do anything.” Ah Lei raised her voice too.
“Exactly! They didn’t do anything!” Panda said, putting away the moisturizer jar and slamming the cabinet door. “In the last few decades, they could have stood up at any critical juncture, but what did they do? Horse racing. Dancing. Chasing money. Those who made enough jumped ship and emigrated. They did absolutely nothing. That’s why Hong Kong is the way it is now,” Panda said.
“It’s not nothing! Your mom worked hard to raise you and Sai Mui, and now she is generously taking Ah Mak under her wing. When would it be enough for you? Are you only going to be satisfied when she takes a bullet on the street?” Ah Lei felt guilty as she recalled this. She was too harsh. What had gotten into her these days? Perhaps she should text Panda. She picked up her phone and pondered what to say. A message came in. It was from Mr. Lam.
“Ah Lei, it was nice to meet you today. I have great admiration for what you’re doing. I’m so sorry to hear about Ah Mak’s situation, but I’m afraid I have to protect my own family first in this tumultuous time. I’m sorry.”
It wasn’t terribly surprising. She shouldn’t have allowed herself to hope otherwise. Ah Lei began typing a polite response. “No worries. I understand.” She considered if she should add two smiling emojis to avoid coming off as sulking or too cold. But then the strange anger came over her again. Why should she make sure he felt good about his decisions? For disappointing her? Why should people who only contributed when there wasn’t any risk feel they’d done enough?
She erased her message and put her phone down. Letting him feel guilty was her small, quiet revenge.
Be a Girlfriend
Election Day fell on the last Sunday of November. Panda didn’t wake up until well past eleven. She had left a window open the night before, and the wind was rustling in through it. The dorm room was like a lush miniature zoo. Aside from the hamster, they had also taken in a tank of ornamental fish, a hedgehog, and several potted plants.
They had become custodians of these plants and pets since the mass evacuation. Thanks to negotiations, the standoff ended peacefully four days after it started. Panda and Ah Lei took turns watering the plants, cleaning the cages, and feeding the animals. They coordinated their schedules so if one of them was out on a date, having dinner with family, or spending the night at her boyfriend’s, the other would stick around.
Before Ah Lei left for Ah Mak’s place the night before, she reminded Panda to clean the fish tank and change the water.
By the time she finished tending to all the chores, it was already past noon. Panda hurried to get ready. She threw on a black T-shirt and a brown skirt. She wanted to put on some light makeup, but when holding the eyeliner, her hand slipped, and the black pigment veered way off onto her lid. She swore under her breath and grabbed a cotton round to clean up. The more she dabbed, the messier it became. Looking at herself in the mirror, she understood why people made fun of smudged eye makeup as “panda eye.” This was not her day. She removed it altogether and headed out to catch the bus.
She had a full schedule ahead: lunch with Ah Lei and Ah Mak, and then off to the polling station near her parents’ to cast her ballot. Afterward, she would go to Ah Ming’s place to watch the election results. The subject had become a source of tension between them. Ah Ming was reticent about the whole thing, while Panda had made it her personal mission to get him out to vote. Her last lobbying attempt got a little out of hand.
Ah Ming was driving and the car radio was on. News shows these days were all about the upcoming election: who had announced their candidacy, which power broker was backing whom…. He quickly switched the channel to a music station playing pop hits. Panda thought Ah Ming was becoming like her dad, avoiding political news and discussions.
“Why did you change the station?” she asked.
“I have the freedom to choose what I want to listen to, don’t I?”
“What do you have against election news?” Panda laughed awkwardly, trying to lighten the mood.
“I’ve told you already. I’m not voting,” Ah Ming said. “I thought we’d settled this. Why do you keep looking for any opportunity to push me to change my mind?”
“I’m not pushing you. I just don’t understand. Why should you assume a bad outcome this year because of your disappointment with past legislative elections?”
“I’m not making any assumptions about the outcome. I simply don’t have faith in the district offices, and I’m not planning to vote. Is that allowed?” Ah Ming snapped at her, ending the conversation.
But that was more than a week ago. Maybe she could try again, Panda thought. Aboard the bus, a TV was showing the latest polls. The numbers were optimistic for the slate of pro-democracy candidates that Panda was going to vote for. She pictured watching the vote tally with Ah Ming on his sofa. They were going to witness not just election workers counting ballots but a display of the people’s resistance against the establishment. Then, Ah Ming would come to see: Things did change this year. The united power of voters would carry democracy activists into the legislature! Panda wanted to see his faith in elections restored. Perhaps, she also wanted to prove him wrong. Encouraged by this vision, she decided to urge him to vote one last time.
