Ezra | The Value of Sub-Urban Areas - "Things remain beautiful and good because of the actions you take to keep them that way."
Having grown up in the sub-urban areas of Hong Kong, where she saw real value, why was Ezra let down by the people who lived in it so much that she does not want to return to the place?
“I was privileged enough to sit in the living room, where I could hear the stream trickling by, or roaring past whenever it swelled after a thunderstorm. Sometimes an egret would come to fish, and I would always wait quietly to watch it take off and glide away.”
I spent my childhood up north in a sub-urban part of Tai Po. It was a beautiful place - a place that was let down by the people who lived in it.
My house was a village house, and as with many buildings of that kind, we were very close to the forest. You might be thinking, “What? A forest in Hong Kong?”
When you think of Hong Kong, you probably think of tall skyscrapers, neon lights and bustling streets that never sleep. But our city really does have another side, a rare proximity to nature that most cities don’t have.
Opposite to my house, there was a little farm. It was separated from us by a small stream, and most importantly, watching over us all, was a great big tree where many birds and butterflies and bees would flock to especially in the spring. And beyond the tiny space we’d carved into the Earth, there was a forest that climbed all the way up a sweeping range of hills.
My family and I really loved the stream and that tree, and how close the forest was. There was even a time when a wild boar came to snack on the crops in the farm - of course, the farmer wasn’t happy, so he chased it away! That’s all part of the life there.
Luckily, for many years I could enjoy the seasons pass in front of that beautiful, calming tree, which gave us fresh air to breathe, respite from the sun’s glaring heat, and always seemed to be protecting us. I was privileged enough to sit in the living room, where I could hear the stream trickling by, or roaring past whenever it swelled after a thunderstorm. Sometimes an egret would come to fish, and I would always wait quietly to watch it take off and glide away. My mum even saw a kingfisher once, diving into the water in a flash of blue.
But sadly, there were others who didn't define value in the same way we did. Over the years, more and more houses sprung up around us, as they are very profitable in a property market like Hong Kong. Construction workers would often pour concrete into the stream - which is illegal - choking the fish, killing the fireflies and driving away the birds. One night, we turned on our balcony lights after hearing strange noises, and saw a bunch of people sitting on the tree’s branches, trying to cut it down. Of course, they quickly ran off. We later checked with a tree expert from the Agricultural, Fisheries and Conservation Department, who said the tree was extremely healthy, and there was no need for it to be chopped down.
It seemed we were the only ones who complained though, and that all our neighbours just accepted the things that were happening. But when you see something happening that's wrong, you have to speak out. You have to do something. Things remain beautiful and good because of the actions you personally take, out of your own volition, to keep them that way. Because if everyone thinks "someone else will do it", then nobody will do anything. The attitudes of residents in our village made us feel like we were the only ones that cared about keeping our surroundings good to live in. At the time we thought maybe people in Hong Kong only think about developing houses to make money, instead of preserving the things that make life beautiful.
After many years we moved out to a more urban environment, as it was easier to get to the Island for work.
My family and I got on with our lives, and it seemed like the house with the stream, the forest, and the big tree was a distant past.
One day, around the time I graduated from university, I heard the news. Our tree had been chopped down. It was going to make way for new housing, after the farm got cleared up. I guess it turned out we'd been protecting it from getting chopped down all along, but when we left, there was no one to speak out for it.
I’ve never been back since. It would be too strange to see all the changes. I’d like to remember the place I grew up as it was.
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