The historic walls of Kat Hing Wai Village in Hong Kong used to be an
impregnable shield against enemy attack, but that was before a new enemy emerged, writes Alan Teh Leam Seng
There are still two hours to daybreak and the entire village is in deep slumber. The guards in the northeast tower, however, remain alert. Nervously, they cast constant glances into the darkness, ever vigilant against unexpected attacks. Suddenly, one of them detects torches in the distance.
Rubbing his eyes in disbelief, he looks again. By this time, the number of torches has doubled. He quickly alerts his companion and together they sound the alarm.
One by one, the houses are slowly illuminated by glowing oil lamps. Dark shadows begin emerging from the doorway of each house as the men reluctantly bid farewell to their families. Silently, they make their way to the assembly hall to await further instructions from the village elders. Despite the threat of impending danger, the villagers remain confident that their homes will be safe. The 18-inch thick walls encircling their village have protected them since the time they were built during the Qing dynasty. Together with the four impregnable watch towers, the walls have shielded them time and again from relentless attacks by rival clans, bandits, pirates and even ferocious tigers that once prowled the area.
The older villagers, however, know that this time things won’t be like before. Based on intelligence received days earlier, they’re aware that they’ll be facing a totally different enemy. One that hails from a foreign land and has brought with it powerful weapons and superior battle tactics. Rumours of how easily the other walled villages had fallen into the hands of the foreign devils had sent shivers down the spines of the elders.
The date is April 1899 and British troops are just about to launch their first attack on Kat Hing Wai. They must breach the thick walls before they can bring the villagers to their knees. After several unsuccessful attempts, the British finally bring out their heavy artillery. Their cannons blast the iron gates wide open, allowing their well-trained infantry to move in and finish the job. The villagers are taken aback by their foe’s military superiority and soon give up, with little resistance. The British remove the iron gates and ship them back to London as war trophies.
TO THE PRESENT
Standing in front of the Kat Hing Wai Walled Village entrance, I touch the historic iron gates. The black resin-covered metal surface feels cold. This is an important piece of historical artefact and I want to remember this moment for a long time.
Visitors to the walled village today are fortunate because the gates are back where they belong. In 1924, the villagers of Kat Hing Wai successfully petitioned the British government to return their cherished chain-linked iron gates. A year later, Sir Reginald Stubbs, Hong Kong’s 16th governor, fulfilled the request in a ceremony steeped in tradition.
Walled villages were a common feature in Hong Kong’s New Territories during the Ming and Qing dynasties. The winding shoreline, hilly terrain and distance from administrative centres made the northern region an excellent hideout for pirates and bandits. As a result, the villagers living around the Yuen Long district had to fortify their homes by building thick walls and tall towers.
Much has changed over the years. The older houses have been replaced with modern dwellings. Fortunately though, the original layout has been maintained. The village still retains its characteristic narrow lanes which separate the parallel rows of houses. At the four corners of the square-shaped village, the guard towers still stand like silent sentinels on their eternal watch. Slightly disappointed at not being able to see traditional houses in Kat Hing Wai, I proceed to nearby San Tin.
CLAN HALL
San Tin, which means “new fields”, is distinctly different from Kat Hing Wai in many ways. Unlike the latter which is dominated by the Tang clan, San Tin is largely developed by people with the surname Man. Coincidentally, the Man clan is one of the “Five Major Clans” in Hong Kong. Also, San Tin still retains several traditional houses in pristine condition even though most of the village walls here have disappeared.
The Tai Fu Tai Mansion was built in 1865, just 33 years before the British attacked Kat Hing Wai. This wonderfully embellished building with its sprawling gardens is considered one of the most beautiful traditional buildings in Hong Kong. It once served as the residence of Man Chung-luen, a wealthy Chinese elite whose ancestors arrived in San Tin during the 15th century. Chung-luen’s fortunes changed when he became a scholar after passing the prestigious Imperial examinations. Later, the Qing Emperor bestowed upon him the title Tai Fu elevating him to a Mandarin.
‘I spend a lot of time admiring the delicate carvings on the pillars and walls. Images of bats and deer are the most common as they’re believed to bring luck and prosperity to a household. Several decorations depict famous legends from ancient Chinese literature.
The mansion is clean, spacious and airy. Funds from the government and the Hong Kong Jockey Club have helped to maintain the artwork in pristine condition. The colours on the walls are fresh and the varnished wooden flooring is spotless. The renovation work is very thorough; even the bucket toilets have been restored to their original condition.
The latrine consists of several partitioned cubicles, each with a rectangular hole cut into the wooden flooring. I venture closer and peer down only to see a large metal pail staring back at me. Fortunately, it’s empty. Thankfully, the toilets here are only for display purposes. The servants’ quarters and kitchen are located in separate buildings at the opposite end of the compound. This was purposely done to give the owner and his family peace and privacy. Sitting on the granite bench in the garden, I try to imagine the servants trying hard not to spill the food as they walked across the lawn during festivals.
Turning to the map in my hand, I attempt to determine the route to my last destination of the day. Although the Man Lun Fung Ancestral Hall is within a short walking distance, the map proves to be rather confusing. My next best option is to approach the Tai Fu Tai Mansion caretaker for directions. Her instructions are short and simple. “Look down and follow the squares,” she says, gesturing towards the road by the entrance before heading off to attend to a group of newly-arrived visitors.
FOLLOW THE SQUARES
“Squares?” I mutter, baffled. Then I spot a checkered square of red and grey bricks on the road outside. Further down the path are more of the same. Like Hansel and Gretel, I follow the squares until I arrive at my destination. Apart from helping to mark the path, the squares also represent the shape of the walled villages that were once so predominant in this area.
The Man Lun Fung Ancestral Hall was built some 200 years ago to commemorate the clan’s illustrious eighth ancestor, whom the hall is named after. The design of the building is very traditional, with three separate halls and two open inner courtyards. This generous built-up area makes it the largest clan house in Hong Kong.
A shrine takes pride of place in the centre of the main hall. It houses rectangular dark wood tablets that bear the names of prominent ancestors. Over the years, this ancestral hall also served as a school and village guard headquarters.
Walking along the wide corridors, I can’t help feeling like I’m in one of Penang’s old clan houses such as the Yeoh Kongsi. The similarities make me suspect that some of Penang’s ancestral homes may have also been built by craftsmen from this region. Reaching for my camera, I decide to take more photos of the place so that I can use them for my reference on my next trip to the Pearl of the Orient. Soon.
