Wall Stories

View Photos (1) Image © 2003 Sim Jui-Liang

At first sight, it looked like any ordinary Chinese garden. Pockets of lush greenery were painstakingly planted in every conceivable space. Of course, there was also the unavoidable Oriental architecture: a lunar-inspired gateway, square windows and jade green roofs break the monotony of the pristine white walls that compartmentalize part of the park. With dusk closing in on a humid June Monday, we counted a handful of people whiling away time among the flora. If home for them are the rundown apartments nearby, this park must offer a much-needed breathing space, a peaceful corner away from bustling Kowloon Tong. But, having done our homework before we flew to this ex-British Colony, we knew that within this oasis of tranquility lurks a turbulent troubled past.

The Kowloon Walled City Park was, after all, some 100 years ago, a respected seat of power, the object of contestation between two warring nations, and a hotbed for vice and crime...

The moment Alvin and I breezed through the main entrance, our eyes started to scan for a spot to nurse my blistered toes and dry off our soaked T-shirts. We had walked for more than half an hour (and in the wrong direction!) from Lok Fu MTR Station. Soon, our bodies were comfortably resting on a bench facing directly a large rectangular enclosed wall.

What lies beneath these protective walls are the foundations of the original South and East Gates, on which the demolished Kowloon Walled City was built by the Qing government in 1847 as a garrison town. Before us were piles of concrete remains: columns, with iron rods sticking out of them, are stacked horizontally on top of large concrete blocks and small slabs of stone are scattered everywhere. And astutely placed among these structures are spotlights to ensure nocturnal visitors get a clear view (the park is open till 11.30 pm). Strangely, and eerily, these remains somehow resemble an abstract art installation on exhibition...

A stone's throw away stands a nondescript Chinese building. Given its rectangular structure and typical tiled rooftop, it boasts hardly any architectural merits to impress an onlooker. Unlike the ornate carvings that adorn, say, the famous Man Mo Temple on Hollywood Road, the carvings on the building's roof are minimal and simple, almost austere. However, the building's significance goes deeper beyond the aesthetics, to its symbolic powers and its place in the annals of pre-colonial and colonial Hong Kong.

The building in question is the yamen or the administrative office from which the Assistant Magistrate of Kowloon commanded the walled fort. Since the yamen represented the power of the mandarin as bestowed by the Emperor of China, it was revered and even feared by passing-by commoners.

Alas, the glorious days of the yamen were numbered with the defeat of China at the hands of Great Britain in the Opium War. Despite the handover of Hong Kong to the British in 1841, the Peking Convention of 1898 actually allowed a Chinese magistrate to continue running the walled city. Yet, a year later, the British had a change of mind and expelled the magistrate. The Chinese, deliberated not to go against the British, abandoned the fort altogether. Thus, the Kowloon Walled City became an anomaly in history, as the only Chinese enclave in then British-governed Hong Kong, albeit temporarily.

With the magistrate's exit, the Kowloon Walled City fell into a state of lawlessness and squatters started seeking refuge behind its walls. However sturdy those walls were, the fort could not fend off the ramifications of another onslaught. The Japanese Occupation of 1942-45 saw the fort's walls torn down and the stone used to enlarge the airfield in nearby Kai Tak.

When the war ended, the sheltered haven of Kowloon Walled City was inundated by massive waves of refugees from Mainland China, as well as dubious characters like triads and drug peddlers. As more illegal buildings sprang up, the place sank deeper into an abyss of crime, drugs and prostitution.

At one time, there were 50,000 squatters cramming in the walled city, an indication of how uncontrollable the situation had deteriorated to. Finally in 1994, the Chinese and British authorities agreed to clear the slum, relocate the squatters and turn it into a park. In spite of all the upheaval, the yamen remained unfazed and survived through the walled fort's darkest hours. Was it the squatters' continued fear and respect for the yamen that saved it from destruction?

Whatever the reason, the yamen, now fully restored, is one of the few left in South China and it seems to be celebrating this newly-found pride, complete with the two remaining cannons guarding its entrance, potted plants, red lanterns (four on each side) and calligraphy scrolls embellishing its otherwise plain façade.

Inside the small main hall, one would be hard-pressed to imagine what exactly took place here a century ago. Very likely, the wooden scrolls of elegant Chinese calligraphy and the antique-looking tables and stools are recent additions. Heads up and one finds more - gasp - red lanterns hanging from the ceiling. Clues hinting of how the pre-green walled city looked like abound though. The original stone plaques bearing the Chinese characters "South Gate" and "Kowloon Walled City", discovered by archaeologists during excavation, are framed for posterity at a dim corner, so are the rather amateurishly-taken photographs documenting the clearing of the shanty town...

Overlooking the yamen are pretty pavilions with names like Mountain View Pavilion and Hill Top Pavilion. Perched on gentle slopes, they offer panoramic views of another but bigger pavilion standing on a man-made lake, shoals of carps swimming merrily in concrete tributaries, and quiet courtyards where we found a splendidly manicured dragon in a slumber, sprawling majestically on its turf. In a way, the pavilions have replaced the military outpost of the old fort; here, anyone could spy on everyone - denizens on rendezvous or 'intruders' like us.

More pavilions, courtyards, and passageways later, we sauntered to the Garden of the Chinese Zodiac, a showcase of twelve sculptures displayed like the numbers on a clock. Some - the tiger (that's our horoscope!) and dragon - have intricate cravings on their gray bodies while others such as the rabbit and snake are distinguished merely by their silhouettes. Oh, and there are some unsightly pigeon droppings on the rooster! So much for having a keen eye!

Normally, gardens modeled after other grander, more famous ones, scream kitsch to me. Comparisons inevitably arise and the 'carbon copy' ends up looking like a tacky, and therefore, doomed, vanity project. The Kowloon Walled City Park, which emulates the classical Jiangnan style, is hence a pleasant surprise. Its photogenic beauty and charm lies in it being an understated garden nestled within a neighborhood, and with a colorful history to boot. In such scenic surroundings, it's easy to lapse into a memory loss and not remember we were walking on what used to be dark, dangerous alleys running in between illegal buildings of sordid, sorry state.

The past has become the present and if walls could really speak, I wonder what stories would they pen about Kowloon Walled City's reincarnation as a public park. Will it be a lament that it is now partially used as a shortcut by residents not here to listen to its stories but to get home faster? Or, will it be a heaved sigh of relief that peace has finally prevailed over the yesteryears of chaos? I suspect it's a fair bit of both, but a happy ending might have already been inked; because, that evening we were there, the noise of construction work nearby was almost drowned in the park's serenity.

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Disclaimer: The historical facts pertaining to the former Kowloon Walled City are sourced from official and unofficial tourist guides, as well as travel articles.

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Published on 2/28/03