Gender and Community Under British Colonialism: Emotion, Struggle and Politics in a Chinese Village

East Asia History, Politics, Sociology, Culture

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Edward Beauchamp University of Hawaii

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Indonesian Education Teachers, Schools, and Central Bureaucracy Christopher Bjork

A Path toward Gender Equality State Feminism in Japan Yoshie Kobayashi

Buddhism, War, and Nationalism Chinese Monks in the Struggle against Japanese Aggressions, 1931–1945 Xue Yu

Postsocialist Cinema in Post-Mao China The Cultural Revolution after the Cultural Revolution Chris Berry

Cooperation Over Conflict The Women’s Movement and the State in Postwar Japan Miriam Murase

Building Cultural Nationalism in Malaysia Identity, Representation, and Citizenship Timothy P. Daniels

“We Are Not Garbage!” The Homeless Movement in Tokyo, 1994–2002 Miki Hasegawa

Liberal Rights and Political Culture Envisioning Democracy in China Zhenghuan Zhou

“A Nation of a Hundred Million Idiots”? A Social History of Japanese Television, 1953–1973 Jayson Makoto Chun

The Origins of Left-wing Cinema in China, 1932–37 Vivian Shen Making a Market Economy The Institutional Transformation of a Freshwater Fishery in a Chinese Community Ning Wang Global Media The Television Revolution in Asia James D. White

Gender and Community under British Colonialism Emotion, Struggle, and Politics in a Chinese Village Siu Keung Cheung

Gender and Community under British Colonialism Emotion, Struggle, and Politics in a Chinese Village

Siu Keung Cheung

Routledge New York & London

Routledge Taylor & Francis Group 270 Madison Avenue New York, NY 10016

Routledge Taylor & Francis Group 2 Park Square Milton Park, Abingdon Oxon OX14 4RN

© 2007 by Taylor & Francis Group, LLC Routledge is an imprint of Taylor & Francis Group, an Informa business This edition published in the Taylor & Francis e-Library, 2007. “To purchase your own copy of this or any of Taylor & Francis or Routledge’s collection of thousands of eBooks please go to www.eBookstore.tandf.co.uk.” International Standard Book Number‑10: 0‑415‑98017‑8 (Hardcover) International Standard Book Number‑13: 978‑0‑415‑98017‑3 (Hardcover) No part of this book may be reprinted, reproduced, transmitted, or utilized in any form by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying, microfilming, and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without written permission from the publishers. Trademark Notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. Library of Congress Cataloging‑in‑Publication Data Cheung, Siu Keung. Gender and community under British colonialism : emotion, struggle, and politics in a Chinese village / Siu Keung Cheung. p. cm. ‑‑ (East Asia: history, politics, sociology, culture) Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN‑13: 978‑0‑415‑98017‑3 (alk. paper) 1. Villages‑‑China‑‑Hong Kong‑‑History‑‑Congresses. 2. New Territories (China)‑‑Rural conditions‑‑Congresses. 3. Hong Kong (China)‑‑Colonial influence. 4. Hong Kong (China)‑‑Social life and customs. 5. Women‑‑China‑‑Hong Kong‑‑History. 6. Great Britain‑‑Colonies‑‑Asia. I. Title. HN752.C46 2006 307.76’2095125‑‑dc22 Visit the Taylor & Francis Web site at http://www.taylorandfrancis.com and the Routledge Web site at http://www.routledge‑ny.com ISBN0-203-94240-X Master e-book ISBN

2006028285

In memory of Colin Bell

Contents

List of Tables

ix

List of Figures

xi

List of Illustrations

xiii

Acknowledgments

xv

Introduction

1

Chapter One The Story of the New Territories

19

Chapter Two The Story of Da Shu Village

41

Chapter Three The Story of Chinese Lineage

65

Chapter Four The Story of Local Practices

81

Chapter Five The Story of Village Women

105

Chapter Six The Story of Deng Amei

123

vii

viii

Contents

Conclusion

143

Glossary

151

Notes on Measurements

157

Notes

159

Bibliography

179

Index

189

List of Tables

Table 1.1

The Development of the District Office in the New Territories

25

Statistics on the Annual Completion of Private Domestic Dwellings in the New Territories with Comparison with the Rest of Hong Kong

30

A Statistical Comparison of the Annual Numbers of Completed Private Multistoried Factories between the New Territories and Hong Kong

32

A Comparison of the Average Purchase Prices of Private Domestic Dwellings between the New Territories and Hong Kong

34

A Comparison of the Average Purchase Prices of Private Multistoried Factories between the New Territories and Hong Kong

36

Table 1.6

The Rapid Population Growth in the New Territories

37

Table 1.7

Annual Decline of the Agricultural Sector in the New Territories

38

Table 2.1

Basic Census Data of Da Shu Village

47

Table 3.1

Internal Differentiation among the Dengs in Da Shu Village

70

The Genealogy of Mu De Tang: A Cross-Tabulation Table

87

Table 1.2

Table 1.3

Table 1.4

Table 1.5

Table 4.1 Table 4.2

Female-Headed Families in the Dengs in Da Shu Village 95 ix

x Table 5.1

List of Tables A Full-Time Housewife’s Daily Domestic Routines in Da Shu Village

106

List of Figures

Figure 2.1

A Sketch Map of Fu Mei Au

43

Figure 2.2

A Sketch Map of Da Shu Village

44

Figure 3.1

The Kinship Diagram of Mu De Tang in Da Shu Village

69

The Establishment of Liang Guang Tang in Fu Mei Au

72

The Genealogy of Mu De Tang: A Kinship Diagram I

88

The Genealogy of Mu De Tang: A Kinship Diagram II

89

Figure 3.2 Figure 4.1 Figure 4.2 Figure 5.1 Figure 5.2 Figure 6.1

The Constitution of Mu De Tang’s Communal Meeting

110

The Distribution of Communal Goods in Mu De Tang

112

The Lineal Dispute between Deng Amei and Ajin

126

xi

List of Illustrations

2.1.

The Gateway of Da Shu Village

61

2.2.

An Internal View of Da Shu Village

61

2.3.

An Old House in Da Shu Village

62

2.4.

A Crude Residential Structure in Da Shu Village

62

2.5.

An Earlier Example of a Renovated House in Da Shu Village

63

A Later Example of a Renovated House in Da Shu Village

63

New Deng Houses for Sale Located in the Extended Village Area in Da Shu Village

64

Farmland in Da Shu Village

64

2.6. 2.7. 2.8.

xiii

Acknowledgments

This book is based on my doctoral dissertation written under the supervision of Professor Roger Jeffery, Dr. Jedrej Charles, and Professor Colin Bell at the Department of Sociology, the University of Edinburgh. I wish to offer my deep appreciation for their interest in my work, their precious advice throughout my research process, and their patience in reading the various versions of my manuscripts. I owe them not only intellectual debts but also much personal gratitude. To all my informants in my fieldwork, I would like to thank them for their generosity in providing me with numerous important written records and sharing with me their local knowledge, living experiences, domestic histories, and personal stories without which it was impossible for me to complete my dissertation. The completion of a Ph.D. dissertation is a long and hard road with numerous brambles to struggle through. In the process, I am indebted to many past teachers and colleagues in the Department of Sociology of Hong Kong Baptist University, where I obtained my bachelor’s degree in 1993 and master of philosophy degree in 1995, and where I had worked from 1995 to 2000. I thank Dr. Brian Ranson, the ex-head of the department, for his confidence in and encouragement of me. Since he retired to Edinburgh, his great readiness to help with his warm hospitality for me in his home during my stay there will not be forgotten by me. I am obliged to Dr. Fred Y. L. Chiu, my chief supervisor during my study for my M.Phil. degree, for his stimulation of my academic interest and his inspiration of thought. I am grateful to Dr. Yat Ming Siu for his unconditional personal financial aid when I had insufficient funds to sustain my study abroad in the U.K. To Dr. Hon Chu Leung and Dr. Yew Ming Cheng, I appreciate their various forms of assistance from the bottom of my heart. Special thanks go to Dr. Joseph Tse Hei Lee for his comments on my manuscripts and to Professor Harold Traver for his proofreading of this manuscript. xv

xvi

Acknowledgments

To my family and friends, I would like to express my deepest gratitude for their care and support. I wish to thank my mother for her sacrifices in raising me and her appreciation of her son’s furthering of his education in completing his doctoral dissertation. I am grateful to all my in-laws for their concerns and most supportive help. In particular, Ms. Teresa Tang and Mr. Patrick Tang, my elder sister-in-law and elder brother-in-law, frequently showed me their kindness and commitment in helping me to overcome my many real difficulties during my long study in the Ph.D. program. I would also like to thank Amelia Au-Yeung and Patrick Fong, my fellow colleagues at university in the U.K., for their friendship and their sharing with me all my high and low points during my study. Above all, I am indebted to my wife, Josephine Mei Ying Lam, for her great devotion to me. When I kept pursuing my Ph.D. study in the U.K. and thereby left her sadly alone in Hong Kong, I made her suffer the hard feelings of separation and loneliness. When, time and again, I needed to move in between U.K. and Hong Kong and was uncertain on the date of completion of my Ph.D., I brought to her a situation of instability and uncertainty. However, she continued to inspire me and gave me the confidence to complete my work. She had her soft touch on my back to encourage me when I felt unbearably frustrated. She had her lovely smiles to cheer me up when I needed replenishment and give me renewed energy. Now I have finished my study for my Ph.D. degree and achieved to publish my dissertation into this book. I attribute the end result of this book and its intellectual contributions as coming from my efforts, but all of my strength and wisdom have come from her.

Introduction

As British administration ends, we are, I believe, entitled to say that our own nation’s contribution here was to provide the scaffolding that enabled the people of Hong Kong to ascend. The rule of law. Clean and light-handed government. The value of free society. The beginnings of representative government and democratic accountability. This is a Chinese city, a very Chinese city with British characteristics. No dependent territory has been left more prosperous. . . . I have no doubt that, with people here holding on to these values which they cherish, Hong Kong’s star will continue to climb. Hong Kong’s values are decent values. They are universal values. They are the values of the future in Asia as elsewhere, a future in which the happiest and the richest communities, and the most confident and the most stable too, will be those that best combine political liberty and economic freedom as we do here today. —The farewell speech by the last British governor of Hong Kong, Chris Patten, June 30, 19971

On June 30, 1997, the 156 years of British colonial rule of Hong Kong ended, as Hong Kong would be reunified with China the next morning. With the extensive international media coverage and the presence of various national leaders, diplomats, celebrities, and local citizens amounting to over 10,000 people, the British guard of honour at the Tamar Naval Base in Hong Kong performed their last large-scale parade. Under the continuing heavy monsoon downpour, the rhythmical tread of marching guards in characteristic British uniforms, the whistling of pipes, and the beat of the drums all resonated through the broad Victoria Harbour under the dark skies. On stage, Chris Patten, the last governor of Hong Kong, made his final speech to Hong Kong, an extraordinary moment in which he represented the legacy of his nation at the conclusion of colonial rule in Hong Kong. A few hours later, the British flag was slowly lowered from the flagpole in the wind and would not fly as the standard of the rulers in the sky of Hong Kong again.2 1

2

Gender and Community under British Colonialism

In his final speech, however, Patten did not refer to another equally significant part of the British colonial legacy, which had to do with the rule of the New Territories, the largest administrative region of Hong Kong. The British colonizers in Hong Kong claimed to rule over the village communities in the New Territories through a policy of indirect rule, a policy that recognized what they thought to be traditional, indigenous Chinese customs and traditions. However, in practice the British proceeded to “modernize” these traditions. The interplay of these two contradictory British colonial ruling practices had overwhelming consequences for local Chinese household and community life before Hong Kong’s handover to China on July 1, 1997. Under what circumstances did the British establish its control over the New Territories? How did they proceed to interpret Chinese village traditions, thereby adopting them for the Chinese village communities in the New Territories? What were the actual results from their claim to recognizing Chinese traditions in their institutional mechanisms and practices? How did these Chinese village communities perceive, experience, and interact with the British throughout the colonial era? What were the impacts of British colonial rule upon the practice of local livelihoods, the domestic and communal life, and the gender relations in the New Territories? This book tries to address these questions in relation to the issue of land tenure under the Chinese lineage organization in colonial Hong Kong. It draws on cases of land disputes in order to highlight how living practice was transformed fundamentally and gender difference was ramified critically in the village communities in the New Territories. It also looks at how village women individually and collectively took the initiative to challenge the British colonial and Chinese patriarchal practices, and how they empowered themselves in the competitive arena of the village politics.

DEPARTURE FROM THE CONVENTIONAL SCHOLARLY APPROACHES The New Territories is of remarkable importance in the field of Chinese studies. At one level, the exclusive political circumstances in the past had barred many early Western Sinologists from conducting their fieldwork in mainland China. This made the New Territories one of the few research fields where Sinologists could study and observe the everyday practices of Chinese society. At another level, since 1949 it was widely believed that the socialist reforms in mainland China had radically transformed the material base of village communities and the nature of Chinese society. By shifting the research focus to the indigenous village in the New Territories of Hong Kong, many scholars thought that it would be feasible to investigate

Introduction

3

the original features of “traditional Chinese society.” The village communities in the New Territories were believed to be kept intact and composed of many authentic institutions and practices of traditional Chinese society under the culturally sensitive governance of the British colonial rule.3 It is against this background that Maurice Freedman in 1963 referred to the New Territories as “the best example . . . of traditional Chinese country life,”4 a view that he forcefully repeated some years later: I should like to help to dispel the notion that the New Territories have been so far affected by British rule and modern changes in population and economic life that they are no longer capable of being useful to anthropologists interested in the study of traditional Chinese institutions.5

In this regard, Freedman maintained, “Old lineages still exists; power is exercised within them; land is still held in ancestral trusts, rites of worship continue to be held in ancestral halls. . . . We may see something of what went on under the Chinese Empire.”6 Freedman not only defined a traditional Chinese society in the New Territories according to the most authentic ancient Chinese institutions and practices, but also established a typical structural-functionalist interpretation to construct the concept of lineage organization as an ultimate centripetal force in the formation of traditional Chinese society. He characterized traditional Chinese society as a heterogeneous society with obvious internal differentiations in terms of local people’s class, status, and power. But the Chinese lineage organization had the extraordinary powerful function to integrate this heterogeneous society into one cohesive structural whole. Economically agnatic corporations among members of descent groups over ancestral estates served to keep local people in their villages through the sharing of communal goods and wealth. Culturally, the incorporation of people with varying social statuses within the descent groups allows Chinese people to derive honors and prestige from their powerful kinsmen. Politically similar principles of sharing provided security for the people as the powerful kinsmen could speak for the peasants when they needed to deal with the government.7 It has been documented that Freedman’s interpretation of the Chinese lineage organization in his study of Chinese village communities, along with the structural-functional paradigm originated from Talcott Parsons, is overly rationalizing the order of things in a way that is beautifully neat but distortedly simplistic. C. Wright Mills reflected upon this theoretical paradigm as “drunk on syntax, blind to semantics.”8 Underlying this paradigm is the attempt to reinforce the idea that the functionalists had created grand narratives and frequently dismissed the meanings, variances, ironies, contradictions,

4

Gender and Community under British Colonialism

and fuzziness in social reality. In order to go beyond Freedman’s structuralfunctional interpretation, Burton Pasternak found it necessary to view Chinese community as “polyphony,” a mixture of varying and even conflictual themes and voices instead of a cohesive structural whole made possible by lineage organization.9 Rubie Watson revealed that the imagery of the past Chinese society as a “lineage society” was a pure conceptual construct that was entirely timeless and spaceless. Chinese lineage organization was never a self-referential system that came into being through its own functional integration and reproduction. On the contrary, it was contingently established by local people in a specific moment and historically developed in response to broader political and economic circumstances.10 David Faure observed that the substantial constitution of Chinese frequently worked beyond lineage organization and that this character was grounded more on the fact of common residence and other collective activities rather than the shared business around ancestral cults and estates.11 Allen Chun argued that Chinese lineage is not a structure, much less the core of Chinese society, but a group of flexible cultural concepts which local people flexibly use to maintain their household and community life at their convenience. It thus entails no necessary or straightforward relationship with lineage organization and is even largely irrelevant to much of the practice of village life. The discussion of lineages and their contingent relations with the village communities has to be discovered from specific contexts and from local people’s perspectives.12 In any case, these studies call for a context-specific study of Chinese village communities. Even when a Chinese community exists within an overall lineage organization, the discussion must be fundamentally relational and people-centered. However, it is necessary to note that Freedman’s Chinese anthropology has for long become a taken-for-granted reference and a starting point for many other scholars with similar research agendas in mind, which were to identify the original features of Chinese society in the New Territories. His concept of lineage society also has been authoritatively taken as a useful paradigm and widely adopted.13 For instance, Marjorie Topley derived from Freedman’s general characterization of the New Territories as the “best living example” of traditional Chinese society to put forward her view that the New Territories was a rare place where “many of the traditional patterns are still largely preserved.”14 Ronald Ng substantiated the same idea by his ethnographic account of a Hakka community in the New Territories that, in his words, maintained “a ‘fossil’ form of life.”15 Huge Baker supported Freedman’s argument of the widespread use of large-scale lineage organization in southeastern China through his monograph of the five great clans of the New Territories.16 Jack Potter used a case study of the Tang lineage of Pan Shan in the New Territories to confirm the central importance of the

Introduction

5

agnatic corporation in Chinese lineage analysis.17 James Watson extended Freedman’s concept of Chinese lineage organization as an ultimate centripetal force to his study of Chinese emigrants’ communities abroad.18 Even till now, the notion of a traditional Chinese society in the New Territories still flourishes in so many areas that it has become a commonplace view in Hong Kong tourism, in the Hong Kong official cultural projects, and in the local society at large.19 The ideas that the five great clans point to the widespread influence of large-scale and true-to-type lineage organization in south China, and that many late imperial Chinese customs and practices remain intact in the New Territories, have been widely accepted in the standard history textbooks for secondary school students in Hong Kong.20 Among the existing literature, Huang Shu Min’s discussion of the New Territories may be an extreme one. Huang perceived the British colonialism as “enlightened colonialism,” and took it as the only reason why traditional Chinese lineage organization, land tenure system, and religious beliefs could be kept in their most “pure” and “ideal” form.21 Obviously, Huang’s remark reminds us of the Orientalist discourse of Asia and Africa during the heydays of Western colonialism in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries.22 It is therefore perverse to describe the living people and their communities in the New Territories as a temporal other from an immemorial past according to some ethnographic conceptual categories and devices imposed by the early Sinological scholarship. Regardless of their political points of view, these studies of the New Territories could be all too easily used to legitimatize the British colonial domination of the New Territories. At the conceptual level, these studies reproduced an old fallacy in the early practice of Western anthropology. This is essentializing their research subject as a timeless being in terms of a mirror image of the modern world, thereby providing little discussion with relevance to the field they purport to describe.23 In this regard, I find it necessary to fundamentally discard the attempt to look for the so-called authentic features of Chinese society that remain unchanged in the New Territories of Hong Kong. Instead, it is imperative to follow the existing context-specific discussion that takes the Chinese village communities as a historical conjuncture intelligible only in a relational and people-centered analysis. It is also important to situate their existence as an ongoing outcome of people’s interactions with the wider social, economic, and political contexts. My analysis of the Chinese village communities in the New Territories presents a critique of the Chinese cultural legacy and British colonial legacy at the same time. In the unique colonial encounter along the policy of indirect rule, these two different types of legacy in the New Territories have historically matched, interplayed, existed side by side, or, rather, indistinguishably become two in one.

6

Gender and Community under British Colonialism

The subtle but consequential interplay between the Chinese cultural legacy and British colonial legacy in the New Territories of Hong Kong is not gender neutral. As the current feminist critiques and gender studies point out, the Chinese village communities are perversely patriarchal. The most prevailing patriarchal values and practices are patrilocality, paternal authority over the domestic sphere, patrilineal succession of family property, male-only membership of the communal corporation that controls the ancestral estate, and the male-only rights to participate in communal affairs and decisions on an agnatic.24 Behind the mask of cultural sensitivity in their policy of indirect rule, the British colonizers were not noninterventionist. They sought compromises with the local Chinese patriarchs and male elites for realpolitik by endorsing and even amplifying the latter’s power, privileges, and interests through colonial legalization and administration. However, Chinese women were not without their radical reflexivity in challenging the dominant hegemonic order. They had expressed their voices among themselves. They also produced remarkable individual and collective stories at different levels, covert or overt struggles for their own rights, as well as bottom-up politics in the creation of consequential social changes.25 In line with these gender-sensitive themes, my discussion singles out the active agency of the Chinese women in the New Territories where the prevailing power structure and gender politics are intricate historical outcomes from not just the internal dynamic of Chinese society but also the external influences of British colonialism.

TOWARD A LIFE STORY APPROACH Methodologically, the best way to understand the specificity of people’s perspectives and stories is to do ethnography. Ethnography requires researchers to keep their hands on the hard surfaces of human life, getting close with their research subjects and even participating in the real drama of social world.26 In terms of writing strategy, the strength of ethnography is to provide detailed accounts of everyday life and flesh out human stories into a close and near picture.27 In the China field, ethnography has been widely used in the study of gender, family life, livelihood practice, rural community, economic change, human agency, local resistance, and moral politics.28 For example, Yan Yunxiang’s idea of a “private life approach” is built on the critical use of ethnography. He focuses on the everyday lives and practices in a village community in contemporary north China. He defines “private life approach” as a research practice to provide experience-near, individual-centered ethnography based on long-term and thorough fieldwork in a local community. One advantage of this approach is to enable researchers

Introduction

7

to gain a better understanding of individual agents’ perspectives, and to explore the peoples’ emotionality, private practices, individual senses, and moral experiences.29 While I draw on the methodological insights of Yan’s work, I would reframe Yan’s approach as a “life story approach.” By definition, a life story approach draws on interviews, participant observations, and self-reflection to explore human activities in private and public domains such as people’s actions, personal encounters, living experiences, common practices, communal events, collective memories, and social activities.30 In this sense, it should be, first of all, broad enough, but not without precise boundaries, to cover most themes that Yan suggested in his notion of the private life approach. By the same token, a life story approach could further allow more important themes to come into discussion as well. Researchers could broaden their study of human activities and stories from the private to the public domain. This enables us to expand the scope of analysis to capture the complexity of human actions in private and public. In particular, gender relations frequently exist across the private-public divide so that they have to be studied in both the private and the public domains.31 Even as Yan claims his work to be a study of private life under socialism, his discussion actually looks at how the dramatic change of the public domain contributed to the enlargement of the private domain in mainland China. His work is an insightful account of the intricate linkages between the private and public domains in the everyday lives of villagers. In essence, a life story approach enables us to capture all aspects of human activities without subscribing to the concept of the “private-public divide.” Conceptually, a life story approach can be in line with what C. Wright Mills called a “sociological imagination,” which is to look into the biography of people in specific historical contexts so as to articulate the individual in society and the society in an individual, as well as their intricate interconnections in practice.32 Throughout my discussion, I keep using “life story” instead of “life history.” “Life story” is a better term because it has less heavy implications of being factual as “history” does.33 It also entails the construction of reality, the selection of rhetoric, and the writing of devices into specific genres by the narrator.34 Most life stories that constitute the core of this book are drawn from my research at Da Shu village in the district of Fu Mei Au of the northern New Territories throughout a two-year period of fieldwork from 1998 to 2000. The reason why I selected the Da Shu village for my fieldwork and the ways in which I gained access to the village are directly related to the story of my life. Therefore, I must at this point tell my life story before I turn to the life stories of my informants. What follow are my personal narrative and a reflection upon my subject-position in the field.

8

Gender and Community under British Colonialism

As a young male sociologist from Hong Kong who later pursued a doctoral degree at the University of Edinburgh in Scotland, I had to overcome the obvious differences between myself and my research subjects throughout my fieldwork. These differences had to do with age, gender, education, cultural background, and social experience. Similar to most ethnographers, I had to engage in a cross-age, cross-gender, cross-educational background and even cross-cultural research.35 Nevertheless, ethnographers have long found that the “self-other” dichotomy in the practice of fieldwork is fluid and transformable. Through close dialogues and interactions with the people in the field, they found themselves to be capable of overcoming these differences and achieving pertinent understanding of the others’ world.36 As Anthony Cohen argues, “It is plainly unacceptable to assume that anthropologist and anthropologised are alike; indeed, it could be perverse, for it might risk rendering anthropology redundant. But, equally, the assumption that they are not alike is unacceptable for it seems to lead inexorably to the construction of their difference.”37 How ethnographers meet, work, and live with the others in the field, and how they confront their existence in the field and their relations with their informants, are the most pressing methodological issues. In my case, I had an inseparable connection with Da Shu village since my childhood because it is my mother’s home village. When I grew up in downtown Hong Kong, my mother told me her story as a female villager. Frequently, she recounted the poor and harsh living environment in the village. She compared her childhood with my urban upbringing in order to remind me that the present prosperity came from past hard struggles. She constantly urged me to be a diligent and frugal person in the world. Occasionally, she recounted various events from the past, some important changes in her home village, along with her personal comments. My mother told me that her deceased father was an important man in his clan. During his lifetime, the village elders and leaders designated him as a village guard (xunding), charged with the responsibility of the day-to-day security of the village. During the chaos of wartime and the early postwar period from the mid-1940s to the 1950s, the British colonial government recognized his public status in the village and granted him a pistol in line with his duties. In addition, he was known and respected as a coach, for training the younger generation in martial arts. But, sadly, he died young from an unknown illness when he was only forty-three years old. With an extremely tough, strong body and will, my grandmother was widely known in the village for her tremendous physical power; even an ordinary man could not keep up with her. Unfortunately, when she was a child she had suffered from a fever that had affected her brain. Her

Introduction

9

intelligence was damaged by this illness, and she became dull for the rest of her life. Her nickname in the village was Ms. Fool (Sha Dai Po). My mother never attended school. She saw herself as “uncultured” and had to accept the disadvantages and humiliations of her illiteracy. As the eldest child in her family with one younger sister and three younger brothers, she had to take up the burden of running the household when she just was a teenager. She shouldered a wide range of family duties from doing daily chores to looking after and guiding her siblings. Her family frequently relied on her to make important decisions and settle occasional domestic disputes. In 1962, when my mother was nineteen, she married a young construction worker in the city of Hong Kong. Subsequently, she moved out of the village and lived with him to begin her own family. But she still kept in contact with her home village. She continued to perform her past role in her parents’ family as the chief domestic decision maker. She also made arrangements for certain family events. When her siblings reached a marriageable age, she initiated blind dates for them and eventually held their wedding ceremonies. In 1994, my grandmother passed away, and the issue of family property division came out. My mother returned home to manage the division, even though she was not entitled to a share according to the Chinese customary rule of patrilineal succession. My mother would occasionally bring my brothers and myself to visit her parents’ family during the important Chinese festivals. My brothers and I often returned to Da Shu village to see friends. During the Christmas, Lunar New Year, Easter, and summer vacations, we always stayed at Da Shu village and played with our peers. We often went to the grassland at the gateway of the village and stayed there catching grasshoppers, climbing trees, flying kites, playing football, engaging in hide-and-seek, or simply running and chasing each other with much laughter and excitement. When we took a rest and enjoyed the shade under a large tree, we chatted among ourselves and occasionally shared candies and snacks. Aside from these various leisure activities and games, I had to help my grandmother with household chores. I usually followed her every morning to the small market town where we bought the daily foodstuff and other necessities after having breakfast in a simple canteen. I also had to help her prepare lunch and dinner. Whenever we left home to visit the public tap in the village to wash things, she liked to chat and show other people that I was her youngest grandson. In most cases, my grandmother would give me little work to do. I could easily finish it, and I would then simply stand by her and listen to her conversation with other villagers. I also came to know that what she really wanted was my company, with which she felt adequate, satisfied, and comfortable.

10

Gender and Community under British Colonialism

As I frequently visited Da Shu village, my mother’s peers and other villagers knew me and occasionally talked to me. I normally addressed them as “aunt” or “uncle,” and they simply called me by my name. But some old people who would occasionally fail to remember my name used to identify me as “Aying’s son” or “Aliang’s grandson.” In many conversations, they also liked sharing their experiences of life with me, in a way which was more or less similar to what I had experienced with my mother. Occasionally, I would be invited to join their regular festival activities, communal functions, and banquets in the ancestral hall. This personal narrative shows that the New Territories is not an ethnographic field to me. It is an inseparable part of my Lebenswelt. My access and attachment to it come through the “natural will” (using Ferdinand Tonnies’s term) of my mother and the social bonds of kinship on my mother’s side.38 I have merged into this bond since early childhood. My relationship with the field and informants was as close as fish and water. My overly strong familiarity led to a sense of strangeness. The field was so direct and intimate to me that I had long taken it for granted. But, subsequently, I unintentionally gained certain insights into my relationships with the village and its residents through the concept of “uterine family” discussed by Margery Wolf.39 I saw my existence in the village as linked to the important practice of women in developing their own uterine family and network within but beyond the patriarchal community of men in the village world. I had also frequently been viewed as a “subject” by elderly villagers in order to transmit their local histories and to share their structure of feelings. Prior to the fieldwork, I encountered many moments in which villagers employed their own living experiences to make their own points and to articulate their views through the histories they told me. At the sociopolitical level, I become aware of the peculiar colonial discourse relating to the New Territories, after I learnt some of these concepts from an undergraduate course at a university. Accordingly, I acknowledged that there was a long British colonial practice known as “indirect rule.” Only then did I begin to question why my mother had been excluded from any entitlement to her parents’ property. My own life story enabled me to understand the significance of gender issues in the colonial New Territories. My ethnographic fieldwork in Da Shu village generally contained three different periods, each of which entailed a specific set of research steps. During the first period of my fieldwork, I commenced my investigation by revisiting my mother’s village several times to look for somewhere to live. With the help of my two uncles (my mother’s brothers) and my aunt (my second uncle’s wife) in the village, I eventually rented a little old house close to the open area at the village gate. I took on a new role as an

Introduction

11

ethnographic investigator. I started to observe the daily practices of people in their community by staying around the village. I took fieldnotes of whatever I saw and encountered in my diary. When I (re)introduced myself to people, I emphasized my student status in Britain and told them that I wanted to know more about their village for my research. I explained that my research focused on their history, ancestral affairs, village rules, and practices. People’s responses were varied. Several people considered my work to be pointless. One of them challenged the value of my research by saying, “How come this old stuff is worth studying? If you have time for studying, you should go to study the ways of making money.” But most of the people were willing to help me. Some people enjoyed chatting with and showing off their knowledge to me. On one occasion, I obtained a remarkable response from an elderly man as he said, “Good! That [my research work] is good! In fact, at the present time the people who know the village rules are increasingly few, even as our own people. If nobody works to write them down, it will be hard to hand them down.” During the first period of my fieldwork, I actively made contacts with more and more people and began to identify those who might become key informants. Obviously, my kinship linkage with them provided me with some advantages. For instance, I was already acquainted with a number of my maternal kin from my past connections with the village, when I visited for occasional family meetings or festival celebrations. I simply needed to continue my contacts with them for my research. In the case of my distant cousins in the village, with whom I had few prior connections, I could rapidly trace my kinship with them. This helped me quickly develop rapport with them. When I had just settled into the village and met a group of elderly women in the village, they just talked casually among themselves, and then expressed some hesitation over who I was and what I was doing there. Once they knew that my mother was their kinswoman, they turned the talk around to discuss my mother and asked me about her news and myself. They also actively renewed their kinship with me, saying they were my dajin.40 One of them even felt happy for meeting me again, and immediately recalled her past relationship with my parents and me: “Oh! You are Aying’s son! You are so tall and big now. Do you know that I was the go-between who introduced your father to your mother? When you were a baby, I held you in my arms and fed you with milk many times. Oh! It is so great! You are so tall and big now!” Because the people knew that I was their relative, it took me only about one to two months to become accepted as a visitor in their houses. By daily greeting and chatting, I also became increasingly familiar with most of the villagers with whom I had no kinship. Toward the end of the

12

Gender and Community under British Colonialism

first period of my fieldwork, I knew the names of all the people in the village and where they lived. However, my prior relationship with some villagers could be a disadvantage too. One afternoon, I talked to my aunt in her home. She casually mentioned some details of how she helped me to rent a house and why I was refused the rental of my first choice in the village. Before she told me the answer, I had simply guessed that my failure might be due to offering too low a rent or too short a term of lease. Unexpectedly, my aunt told me that my failure was not due to either of these but because of a very personal consideration of the old female owner of that unit. She still remembered a past dispute with my mother’s family in the village many years ago, even though I was not in the village at the time, much less involved in it. Nevertheless, my friendly attitudes and behavior toward the people helped me to overcome some poor relationships resulting from disputes with my mother’s family. One morning, when I went out of the village for breakfast, I met the old female owner of that unit. To improve my relationship with her, I had already made it a habit to greet her whenever I saw her, and I continued to do so after discovering why she refused to rent me a house. Unexpectedly, she gave me a friendly response with a satisfied smile and said, Hi! Good morning! You are really nice! Every time you see me, you greet me. Few young people now will be like you to be so respectful towards elders. Do you know that I am your dajin as well? So, don’t just say: “Hi!” to me next time. Call me dajin. In fact, I was very familiar with your mother before she moved out after marriage. My daughter and I had also gone to Kowloon to see your mother when you were a boy.

This encounter enabled me to break the ice with her. The second period of my fieldwork entailed the most essential part of my ethnographic investigations. I interviewed forty-five women and thirtyeight men, including both the indigenous inhabitants (i.e., the Dengs) and the nonindigenous inhabitants, all coming from different households and class backgrounds.41 Among them were six elderly women and four elderly men with whom I had interviews on a regular basis. However, I quickly found that my original plan to undertake formal interviews with people made them stressful and obtained no good result. For instance, I had in the first place attempted to interview an elderly woman after I thought that I knew her well and had talked to her very often. Once she saw that I began to take down her answers to my questions

Introduction

13

in my notebook, she felt nervous and gave me only general and superficial responses. Eventually, I had to stop the interview with her prematurely. Instead, casual conservations and participation in daily discussions covered most of the issues my research sought to explore and examine. Accordingly, I used the method of semistructured conservation. This allowed me not only to collect abundant reliable materials with intricate details but also to report people’s direct voices and perspectives. It enabled me to see some essential issues that I had failed to recognize. For instance, I did not intend to examine the community practice of rumor, personality assassination, and sexual innuendo by local women and men. However, my semistructured conservations frequently indicated that these subject matters were critical parts of the daily discourse and local disputes in the village. During the second period of my fieldwork, I engaged myself in the different daily activities of women and men in their everyday lives. I observed them as closely as possible. Usually, I stayed in the open area at the village gate in order to see the village women’s daily gathering during their leisure from midafternoon until dusk. In the process, I joined in their chatting and joking, and occasionally helped them to look after their children. I was occasionally invited to join them in shopping and having food and drink in a nearby market town. As far as the village men are concerned, I frequently followed my two uncles to see their common daily activities with other village men. I often went to a private clubhouse in the village where men regularly spent time chatting and playing cards. There was no indication that my showing up in their clubhouse was unwelcome, much less perceived as harmful to them. Indeed, I managed to talk to them freely and joke with them. Eventually, I could even go there on my own to keep in contact with them. But, sometimes, some village men felt that I was odd in that I often sat through their gambling till late at night (and occasionally overnight) but showed no interest in joining in. My close relationship with my uncles, particularly my youngest uncle, allowed me to study the indigenous Deng lineage organizations and their impact on village politics. For a time, I found it hard to obtain adequate information from people regarding their lineage organizations. This was a subject matter of relevance to the Dengs alone, so the other surnames in the village had no idea of it at all. Also, the Dengs’ lineage organization was so complex that most Dengs had no clear understanding of the details either. But, my youngest uncle was one of those men collectively appointed from their agnatic corporation as managers over the ancestral estates owned by the lineage organization. He had held this position for a long time, and had a good knowledge of the lineage organization. He also possessed abundant

14

Gender and Community under British Colonialism

working documents such as genealogy records, land deeds, past records, and official letters relating to their ancestral business. When I consulted him for the details in this regard, he not only explained the matters to me but also provided me with the documents. On one occasion, he even claimed, “I am your uncle. I of course have the real stuff [the working documents] for you! If it is to other people, I definitely don’t bother to entertain them.” On the other hand, my youngest uncle was an activist in village politics and a close associate of the village leader. Through his introduction, I swiftly met this village leader and became an assistant in the election of village leaders for the continuation of his office from 1999 to 2003. Since he was successful, I continued to help him in this role throughout the rest of my research. I often visited his office and observed his work for people and his meetings with other local important figures. I helped him and his colleagues to prepare various occasional public activities such as festival ceremonies, collective celebrations, public assemblies, and clan meetings. However, my intensive connection with this village leader through my youngest uncle’s personal network obviously prevented me from getting close to the opposite party in the village. When I worked in his election campaign, I could not meet the other candidates who were competing with him. Of course, it is not necessary to be an insider in the field in order to have a clear picture of it. An insider in the field may overlook some important research tasks because of the close attachment to the field. When I checked my research findings toward the end of my second fieldwork period, I suddenly found that my understanding of the village remained incomplete. I was very familiar with many households in the village and visited them directly for observation and conversations without warning. I had no clear idea, however, of the numbers of households and people in the village. Similarly, the wider local context of the village is the region of Fu Mei Au. I was in the region and worked there throughout my fieldwork. I had no adequate information about it, particularly its general transformation in recent history. It was precisely these problems that I sought to address in my final stage of fieldwork. During the final period of my fieldwork, one important task was to conduct a census of the village under study. I proceeded to count the total number of houses and photographed representative ones in the village. I continued to visit the households in the village and talked to the household heads about the basic demographic data on their households. I asked elderly men and women about the region of Fu Mei Au. In this way, I managed to obtain some important information from these interviews, and ran into an oral social historian of Fu Mei Au. One afternoon, an elderly man led me to see him in his home in another village in Fu Mei Au. I was introduced to the

Introduction

15

historian by the elderly man as follows: “He [me] is A-keung I mentioned to you yesterday. He wants to know the history of our place and our village rules. You can have no worry about showing him everything. He is zijiren [one of us].” I subsequently went on my own to meet this oral historian in his home. In addition to my two face-to-face meetings and several follow-up telephone interviews with this historian, I began to explore the political and historical background of the village and Fu Mei Au by consulting relevant official materials. Speaking with hindsight, fifteen months of fieldwork in the New Territories of Hong Kong had high and low points. Sometimes, the materials I needed came to me easily and rapidly, but, at other times, my progress was slow. Sometimes, I found it interesting to listen to people’s experiences, but, at other times, I felt depressed as they told me their tragic stories and described their sorrows and hardships. I found that my fieldwork transformed my subject position in the village. Toward the end of my fieldwork, I was not simply known as a student but was also seen as an expert by the people concerning their rules and practices. After I completed my fieldwork and moved out of the village, I received a phone call from a village man whom I never met before. He introduced himself and said, I live in the village of Chang Ping [another village in Fu Mei Au]. But, I learnt from the people in your uncles’ village that you study our village rules and know them well. Indeed, I am your uncles’ close peer in the clan. I also got your phone number from him [my youngest uncle]. I have a problem and hope that you can help.

This man asked for my advice regarding his recent dispute with a woman over his household property. He was involved in a lawsuit with a woman who claimed to be his deceased father’s second wife. The woman asked for a share of his household property for she had a son with his deceased father. This man planned to undertake a DNA test to check whether her claim was true. But he wanted to know whether village rules recognized an illegitimate son’s inheritance rights. He expected me to advise him whether he could win the case in court. However, the questions he posed to me were beyond my competence and made me embarrassed. Thereupon, I just sought to evade his questions as far as I could, and told him that everything still depended on how the judge would arbitrate his case. Afterwards, I avoided being drawn into his household dispute and did not follow up on his case. It might be due to his dissatisfaction with my indefinite answer to him that he made no further contact with me. Looking back, the lesson I learnt from this fieldwork in the New Territories is that an insider in

16

Gender and Community under British Colonialism

the field needs to be self-reflexive. One must depend on numerous intensive and careful investigations in order to complete a research project. This study uses pseudonyms for both local people and place names in order to protect the privacy of the research subjects.

CHAPTER OUTLINE The impact of the adversely gendered British colonialism upon the Chinese village communities and the politics of people against their hegemonic domination in the New Territories is the focus of discussion in all the chapters. Chapter 1 outlines the general historical conjuncture at which Chinese village communities in the New Territories are situated. It challenges the British colonial policy of indirect rule and points to its intended and unintended consequences. Chapter 2 enters the village world in the New Territories by considering the case of Da Shu village historically and ethnographically. The chapter describes the fundamental transformation of this local village community and, by implication, the rapid social changes of the New Territories under British colonialism. The chapter also concentrates upon the local stories of people in their struggles for survival through the wartime and other periods of hardships under British rule. Chapter 3 addresses the vexing issue of the prevailing Chinese lineage organization in the New Territories. By drawing on fieldwork data, it demonstrates how Chinese lineage organization is structured on strong patriarchal terms and lines. During the British colonial period, the lineage organization underwent a substantial revitalization in relation to the increasing value of its landed corporation. But, at the same time, it became a critically contested terrain among the local patriarchs. There were more internal ruptures and dogfights among them as a consequence of the increasingly forceful competition for landed interests, official titles, and powers bestowed from the British colonial rule. Chapter 4 highlights the complexity of Chinese patriarchy in practice, particularly its fundamental indeterminacy and vulnerability. By tracing the common gender-specific conduct of local people in their ordinary household and community lives, it discusses some fundamental variances, structural ruptures, practical limitations, local subtleties, and dynamics, which have remained less documented in the literature. This chapter reconstructs the life stories concerning the matter of male incompetence, the rise of female-headed households, and the real and hard struggles of women. Chapter 5 further addresses the gender issue by concentrating on the subject of female agency. It illustrates how local women frequently created their own living order and practice within but beyond the patriarchal

Introduction

17

realm of men in the village world. By playing out their bottom-up politics, these women subverted the colonial and patriarchal systems of domination, and exerted great influence over the domestic and public spheres. Chapter 6 looks at the life story of Deng Amei. Through an intensive discussion of her long struggle for her family property, this chapter analyzes how the critical gender features identified in the previous chapters are in practice interconnected. Moreover, the chapter follows through the intricate process in which her personal struggles initiated a large-scale women’s movement in shaping the society and history at large through important successes. The conclusion provides an overall discussion of the critical power structure in the colonial New Territories and examines the role of female agency in initiating social change. It also attempts to bridge the past colonial situation with the current postcolonial situation, and pinpoints the importance of local communities in subverting the hegemonic forces in the New Territories of Hong Kong.

Chapter One

The Story of the New Territories

“Tradition” in Chinese is chuantong, a vernacular term that refers to the “handing down from generation to generation of characteristic social features such as custom, ethic, thought, way of doing, art and system.”1 Accordingly, this Chinese term not only refers to many common meanings with the English one but also entails many similar difficulties when used for the analysis of human practice. Existing studies have at different levels made evident that “tradition” as it literally refers to the general process of handing down from the past frequently covers up the detailed process of any handing down that in practice must be selective, highly partial, and full of variation. Some writers attempt to rectify this term by using it in plural form with initial lower case, and look into particular traditions that are less long lasting and wide spreading. However, this term, as Raymond Williams traces out, carries its strong sense that refers to something being truthfully age-old and generally existing over time. It therefore remains conceptually unsound to name something “traditional” in this way according to its own sense.2 Instead, it is now not new to say that “traditions” frequently are current inventions. Far from being handed down from the immemorial past, “traditions” can in many cases have relatively recent origins and come from the appropriation of the language of the past for the justification of the present order and practice.3 In this respect, it should be clear that “traditions” are not necessarily incompatible with “modernity.” It is not necessary for them to be fast disappearing in the contemporary society as well. On the contrary, “traditions” frequently exist with “modernity” at the same time because “traditions” actually are current features of the contemporary society that come from a specific current interpretation of the current need. It has also been well documented that the apparently binary features of “tradition” and “modernity,” such as particularistic versus universalistic, communalistic versus individualistic, structurally diffuse versus 19

20

Gender and Community under British Colonialism

structurally specific, and sacred versus profane, can frequently work side by side in the contemporary society in the creation of various ambivalent but significant interplays.4 Along this line of reasoning, I find it necessary to go beyond the ostensible meaning of tradition that is perceived as static, timeless, and unchanging. I take tradition as an ongoing construct, depending on the rhetoric of time. I proceed to historicize the “traditions” that British colonizers claimed to keep intact and adopted to rule over the indigenous Chinese communities in my discussion of the colonial New Territories. That is to follow the process of becoming instead of tracing out the origin of thing. Adopting Mikhail Bakhtin’s term, my interest here is to look for the “creatively effective past” instead of the “estranged past.” Therefore, the focus of attention is the intricate linkage between the past and the present instead of the past in and of itself. In particular, I foreground some local events that caused the British colonizers to use the policy of indirect rule. I concentrate upon their appropriations of “Chinese tradition” in the creation of many changing and even new features of Chinese tradition in order to suit their specific ruling needs. I also take into account the dramatic shift in their ruling policy after the end of World War II. It was to develop the New Territories for the purpose of the rapid economic growth of Hong Kong. My general objective is to discuss the colonial impacts upon the living environment and practice of the local village communities, and the British claim to preserve the traditional Chinese society in the New Territories, and to pinpoint the long-term implications of indirect rule before and after the handover of Hong Kong to China in 1997.

THE BEGINNING OF INDIRECT RULE Of the 156 years of colonization of Hong Kong (1841–1997), the British colonizers obtained its different parts at different times according to different Sino-British diplomatic agreements made possible with their military means. They wrested Hong Kong Island from the Chinese in 1841 under the Treaty of Nanking, but from the beginning they viewed the acquisition of this colony as a critical mistake in terms of the original intention to facilitate their economic interests in the China trade. Lord Palmerston, British foreign secretary in London, angrily described Hong Kong as a “barren rock with hardly a house upon it” and immediately sacked Captain Elliot, British plenipotentiary in China, who was responsible for the negotiation of this concession.5 Subsequently, the British colonizers forced the issue of extending the territory of the colony with the Chinese government. In 1860, they acquired the Kowloon peninsula from the Chinese through the Treaty of

The Story of the New Territories

21

Peking. However, this in their view remained inadequate to enlarge the territory of Hong Kong up to a self-containable level. In 1898, they further acquired the New Territories through the Convention of the Extension of Hong Kong.6 The region of the New Territories was a considerably larger and more populous place rather than a piece of insignificant land without any considerable establishments. Its physical size amounted to 376 square miles, comprising about 88 percent of the overall area of Hong Kong. Its total population amounted to 102,254 in 423 villages.7 Among the Chinese clans, the predominant ones were the Tangs, Haus, Pangs, Lius, and Mans. The clans had developed into numerous branches dating from the Song (A.D. 1127–1279) and Ming (A.D. 1368–1644) Dynasties. They also claimed to belong to “The Five Clans of the New Territories,” possessing abundant members, lands, and locally powerful elites in the New Territories.8 It is against this background that the colonization of the New Territories became an integral part of British colonialism in Hong Kong, and that the whole region took its present name as the New Territories. However, the final territorial acquisition of the New Territories from China was conditional and consisted of a temporary lease of ninety-nine years from 1898 to 1997. The British also met with some unexpected setbacks in the establishment of their government of the region. When the British colonizers proceeded to take over the New Territories, they planned to rule the New Territories through their existing government of Hong Kong for administrative convenience. Their Colonial Office in London even firmly objected to the use of indirect rule in the New Territories, an idea proposed by Steward Lockhart, their special commissioner in Hong Kong, upon the completion of his fieldwork report in 1898. Nevertheless, the British were confronted with hostile resistance from the local Chinese communities. When Lockhart started his exploration of the region in preparation for their future governance, the Chinese villagers in Kam Tin collectively boycotted his research team, throwing eggs at them and closing off the village gate to lock them out. The British needed to call in seventyfive marines with two Maxim guns. They forced their way into the village and ended up conducting the survey by force. The British also confiscated the village gate as a direct punishment of the disobedient Chinese villages.9 Despite meeting with this violent suppression, the local resistance to the British colonial encroachment into the New Territories increasingly organized. On March 27, 1899, the British planned to set up a mat shed for their first flag-hoisting ceremony on April 17 at a hilltop in Tai Po, symbolizing the official occupation of the New Territories. The Chinese villagers opposed the construction work on the grounds that it violated the injunctions of fung shui, claiming the hilltop to be private ancestral land.10 On April 3, the

22

Gender and Community under British Colonialism

British sent Henry May, captain superintendent in Hong Kong, to supervise the construction work. Chinese villagers then fought May’s party and set fire to the mat shed. On April 15, Chinese villagers even organized a secret armed force to attack the British and once again set fire to the mat shed in Tai Po. However, the British immediately fought back with increased force, which included a covering cannonade from their gunboats. On the next day, they defeated this Chinese rebellion and brought the situation under control. They also smoothly finished their first flag-hoisting ceremony in Tai Po before they proceeded to crush the rebellion in Shang Tusen, New Territories.11 The duration of the Chinese uprising in the early colonial history of the New Territories was short-lived, yet its impact upon the later formation of the New Territories was far-reaching. To placate local hostility and reach a quick settlement, the British expediently adjusted their ruling strategy in the New Territories. They kept to the original plan to put the region under the existing general governance in Hong Kong. They also readopted Lockhart’s suggestion to implement the policy of indirect rule. This study shows that British colonialism was seldom established through a consistent system of rule with an omnipotent basis. Their policy of indirect rule was an expedient practice for realpolitik instead of having any real concern of recognizing others’ culture. The colonial domination often had many intended and unintended consequences. The later development of the colonial New Territories was largely similar to what the British did in their other colonies in Africa, Asia, and Central America as well.12 Their claim to recognizing indigenous traditions underlying the policy of indirect rule seldom truthfully proceeded to preserve the precolonial customs and practices. In most cases, the British adopted them partially and even invented them in order to suit their ruling needs.13 They seldom successfully built up their ruling hegemony over the indigenous communities. More often, they confronted various disputes over the territorial right with the indigenous communities in relation to their cultural-sensitivity claim in their policy of indirect rule. They often relied on the local elites to maintain their ruling condition.14 Subsequent to the completion of their first flag-hoisting ceremony in the New Territories, the British in 1899 made their first noninterventionist announcement to the New Territories in line with their policy of indirect rule and, above all, promised the Chinese villagers that they would keep their status quo: “Your commercial and land interest will be safeguarded and your usages and good customs will not in any way be interfered with.”15 In practice, however, the British simply focused upon the issue of land in the establishment of their authority over the New Territories and gave high priority to this matter because of their concerns over administration and tax collection. During the first three years of colonial occupation,

The Story of the New Territories

23

they conducted a thorough survey of the existing land tenure and ownership in every Chinese village in the New Territories. Based on this land survey, the British in 1905 issued the Block Crown Lease, an official lease that covered each block of existing holdings with the terms of tenancy, a cadastral record of each plot of land, and a demarcation map of them, in order to secure their inland revenue from land.16 In the same year, they passed the New Territories Land Ordinance with specific legislative reference to the recognition of local Chinese villagers’ customary right to land property in section 11: “In any proceeding in Supreme Court in relation to land in the New Territories the Court shall have power to recognize and enforce any Chinese custom or customary right affecting such land.”17 Furthermore, this ordinance had a special clause in section 13 that maintained the existing collective ownership in the Chinese villagers’ lineage organizations and that allowed the Chinese villagers to appoint their own sili (managers) to manage their communal ancestral land and estates: Whenever any land is held from the Crown under Lease of other grant, agreement or license in the name of clan, family or t’ong shall appoint a Manager or Managers to represent it, and may from time to time appoint a new Manager. Every such appointment and change shall be reported at the appropriate office, and the Land Officer on receiving such proof as he may require of such appointment, shall, if he approves thereof, register the name of the said Manager or Managers: the said Manager or Managers thereupon shall after giving such notices as may be prescribed have full power to dispose of or in any way deal with the said land as if he or they were sole owner thereof, subject to the consent of the Land Officer, and shall be personally liable for the payment of all rents and charges and for the observance of all covenants and conditions in respect of the said land. Every instruments relating to land held by a clan, family or t’ong which is executed or signed by the registered Manager or Managers thereof in the presence of the Land Officer and is attested by him, shall be as effectual for all the member of the said clan, family or t’ong.18

In 1910, after the preliminary legislative tasks had been completed, what ensued was the New Territories Ordinance, a specialized sociopolitical governance order for the New Territories.19 Current studies have found that British colonial rule in the New Territories codified Chinese law and custom into a more strict and rigid fashion than what had existed before in China. For instance, along with the official document of Block Crown Lease, the British required people to register their land, issued new official deeds to landowners, narrowed people’s rights to

24

Gender and Community under British Colonialism

land ownership, and even abolished existing local practices thought to be incompatible with their administrative system. One of the most obvious cases was the cancellation of the existing perpetual ownership in order to maintain their ultimate control of land, even though this had been a normal practice in Chinese society in the past. Another equally remarkable case was the abolishment of the existing dual-landlord system in the practice of Chinese people. In this Chinese system, land should be separated into dipi (topsoil) and diku (subsoil) forms of ownership. The owner of the topsoil held the rights of cultivation as long as he or she paid rent to the owner of subsoil, while the owner of the subsoil was entitled to collect the rent from him or her on the condition that he or she paid the taxes to the government. Though there was a clear mode of operation in its practice, the British totally declined this dual-landlord system for their land legislation. They only allowed one sole legitimate landowner. Above and beyond this level, the British even introduced new legislative terms and categories through which people had to negotiate over their land with the new legislative procedures. An obvious example was the new legislative requirement to appoint sili for overseeing communal ancestral land and estates as the sole owner of them, because this kind of formal position and legal person in the Chinese lineage organization never existed in the past. Taking these various overt and covert changes collectively, the British intensified their bureaucratic and legislative control of land in a more forceful and systemic manner than the Chinese imperial government. Behind the mask of indirect rule, the British actually played down many flexible arrangements, negotiable areas, self-autonomies, and informal local conventions and obligations that the Chinese people had normally held in the past.20 The Chinese villagers increasingly had disputes concerning their traditional right to land with the British throughout their colonial domination of the New Territories. As late as 1972, the British introduced the Small House Policy in the pursuit of a settlement. However, this policy formalized the term “indigenous inhabitants” to identify the Chinese villagers in the New Territories. Most importantly, the British used the term “indigenous inhabitants” originally to refer to the predominantly Chinese inhabitants in the New Territories, but officially the term had a highly specific meaning from a critically partial interpretation. They recognized as an indigenous inhabitant only patrilineal male descendants of those men who were permanently living in the villages in the New Territories on July 1, 1898. The “indigenous inhabitant” as a special social category invented by the colonial rule totally excluded women and subsequent immigrants from the official village policy in the New Territories. The Small House Policy also specified that only the “indigenous inhabitants” were eligible for an official allowance to build one premium-free village house during their lifetime. To settle land disputes

The Story of the New Territories

25

with the Chinese villagers in the New Territories, the British privileged the local patriarchs in order to gain their support by normalizing their patrilineal practice for their land interest and economic status in the long run.21 In addition to these legislations of land tenure, the British colonizers claimed to have adopted special administrative practices to rule the Chinese village communities in the New Territories. In 1906, they introduced the District Office into the New Territories, and the district officers had claimed to work as a traditional Chinese Fu-mu-kuan (paterfamilias-like officer) for the local Chinese villagers.22 But, the British continued to divide the region into more and more small districts and at the same time increased their staff numbers in order to extend their control over the Chinese villages (see table 1.1). The colonial government eventually integrated the New Territories into the general administration of Hong Kong. They reduced the comprehensive role of the District Office in the New Territories by transferring its powers to other specialized departments.23 Table 1.1. The Development of the District Office in the New Territories Year

1899

1913

1948

1957

1960

1974

1979

1980

Number of Districts

1

2

3

4

5

7

8

9

Yuen Long

Yuen Long

Yuen Long

Yuen Long

Tuen Mun

Tuen Mun

Tuen Mun

Tuen Mun

Tai Po

Tai Po Tai Po

Name of Districts

New North Yuen Territories Long

Yuen Long

Tai Po Tai Po Tai Po

North

North

Sha Tin Sha Tin Sha Tin Sha Tin South South Tsuen Tsuen Wan Wan

Tsuen Wan

Tsuen Wan

Tsuen Wan Kwai Tsing

Islands Sai Kung

Sai Kung

Sai Kung

Sai Kung

Islands Islands Islands Islands Source: Ng Wai Man, “Village Revitalisation/Disintegration: An Assessment of Suburbanisation, Land Administration and Small House Development in the New Territories” (Ph.D. diss., University of Hong Kong, 1996), 39.

26

Gender and Community under British Colonialism

Nevertheless, a group of village elites and clan leaders in 1924 set up a committee called Xinjie Nonggongshang Yanjiu Zonghui, literally translated as “the New Territories Agriculture, Industry and Commerce Research Association,” in order to fight for their land rights. The British simply absorbed the conflicts and thereby secured their sociopolitical governance in the New Territories by endorsing this political organization. In 1926, Hong Kong Governor Cecil Clementi paid a visit to the villagers and acknowledged their organization with a suggestion for them to rename their organization as Heung Yee Kuk, literally translated as the “Rural Consultative Committee.”24 By 1959, the British had officially and legislatively recognized the Heung Yee Kuk as the highest statutory advisory body of the New Territories by enacting the Heung Yee Kuk Ordinance. Accordingly, Heung Yee Kuk in the New Territories formally became the top institution in the official representation system, with 27 Rural Committees in the middle and 651 villages at the base. In each village, the villagers could openly elect or appoint one to three official village representatives, depending on the village size, every four years. These village representatives, about nine hundred in total, became the council members in the Rural Committees. The chairmen and vice chairmen in the Rural Committees from internal elections among the village representatives in turn became the council members for the Heung Yee Kuk. This was an old and tried colonial politics of collaboration that empowered the indigenous political elites and integrated them into the British colonial structure for effective control.25 This practice of British colonialism had a significant gender implication at the same time. In the New Territories, most of the indigenous political elites were the local patriarchs, and the public elections in practice were male-only elections. It was not until 1994 that the British gave the same participatory right to women in the election of village representatives.26 In recognizing the local practices of the Chinese villagers, the British “modernized” their communal political structure and praxis, and ramified an exclusive androcentric rule for most of their time in the New Territories.

THE POSTWAR TRANSFORMATION OF THE NEW TERRITORIES During the Second World War, the British surrendered Hong Kong and the whole territory to the Japanese regime from 1941 to 1945. The Japanese occupation brought terrific devastation along with economic chaos in Hong Kong. Not only had numerous people been killed or died from starvation, but also there were great numbers that fled Hong Kong. All British residents and important officials, including the governor, were interned in

The Story of the New Territories

27

detention camps under intensive military surveillance. It is estimated that the local population suffered from a downturn of about 1 million (from 1,600,000 in 1941 to 600,000 in 1945).27 After the British resumed colonial rule at the end of the war, Hong Kong’s population grew significantly with the influx of Chinese refugees and achieved exceptional growth and expansion in its industrial economy. From the mid-1950s, the colonial government established new towns in the New Territories in order to sustain this rapid postwar development, as a consequence of the critical shortage of land in the existing but overcrowding conurbation of Hong Kong Island and Kowloon. In effect, the colonial government undertook extensive land resumption from the Chinese villagers in the New Territories and even undertook resettlement of their communities for developmental use, in particular the establishment of new public housing estates and new industrial sites. Private developers also began to shift their investments into the New Territories and for the most part continued to increase the annual rate of residential and industrial building investments (tables 1.2 and 1.3). Despite the generally lower market value of land than in the rest of Hong Kong, the private landed developments in the New Territories saw outstanding rising market values with only a few years of exception (tables 1.4 and 1.5). In total, the colonial government established eleven extensive new towns and held a significant amount of public housing in the New Territories for the general population of Hong Kong. The current demographic center of Hong Kong has shifted from the earliest developed Hong Kong Island to include the newly established New Territories. Toward the end of British rule, the census information indicated that the population in the New Territories was close to 3 million and comprised nearly half of the total population in Hong Kong (table 1.6). By contrast, the recognized “indigenous inhabitants” and their dependants were no longer the only social group in the New Territories. Even the Heung Yee Kuk claimed their members amounted to 700,000, and right up to 1995 they still did not constitute a majority by comparison with the total amount of late migrants, mostly the urban ones, in the New Territories. Common agricultural backgrounds that had held the communities together became a thing of the past. To look into this issue through official statistics, the records indicated that a paddy as a main agricultural item had had no validity since 1986. Other items like market garden crops, field crops, and orchards had some short expansions during the 1960s or 1970s, but quickly decreased in production in later periods. The total amount of farmland from 1954 to 1997 fell from 135,252 to 7,490 hectares, while abandoned or fallow fields increased from 1,098 to 4,290 hectares (table 1.7).

28

Gender and Community under British Colonialism

In general, the postwar New Territories saw great social and economic transformations toward integration with a highly industrialized and urbanized Hong Kong, while the formerly predominant village communities increasingly became displaced with the rapid decline of their land. Interestingly, the official discourse also recognized this drastic trend which contradicted the original noninterventionist policy of indirect rule: For decades the New Territories have been dormant, situated within a few miles of a modern metropolis yet remaining largely undisturbed and unaffected by the progress of the twentieth century. Now the town is spilling over into the country; old villages are being uprooted and replaced by urban development; village market centers are being transformed into substantial towns. Throughout much of the territory the picture is one of upheaval and change as blocks of modern flats replace dingy, single-story houses and as industry spreads and grows in many parts of the formerly rural areas.28

In this regard, it should be clear enough that British colonialism in the New Territories was not without its dramatic changes up to the extent that was totally opposite to their original claim. They used different and even self-contradictory ruling practices in order to balance their shifting ruling needs at different times. Their primacy concern ever was the continuity of their domination rather than the continuity of “Chinese traditions.” To say that the British kept a traditional Chinese society in the New Territories under the aegis of their indirect rule is a claim that not only is entirely ahistorical but also naïvely maintains something the British never truthfully did.

THE END OF COLONIAL RULE IN 1997 Under the ninety-nine-year lease, the New Territories was a temporary acquisition of the colony of Hong Kong. The British colonial occupation was to end on June 30, 1997, while the Chinese national regime could retake the New Territories on July 1, 1997. This peculiar leasing issue of the New Territories, a leftover from the history of the nineteenth century, prompted Britain to begin formal discussions with China in 1982. Both China and Britain reached the consensus that Hong Kong could not exist without the New Territories and the New Territories was inseparable from the rest of Hong Kong. The issue of the lease could not view the New Territories in isolation but had to include Hong Kong Island and Kowloon Peninsula, and the overall politico-jurisdictional

The Story of the New Territories

29

circumstance of post-1997 Hong Kong.29 In 1984, China and Britain released their first bilateral diplomatic agreement, the Sino-British Joint Declaration on the Question of Hong Kong, in which the British agreed to return the whole colony of Hong Kong to China in 1997 and work with Beijing to prepare for the change of sovereignty of Hong Kong prior to the end of their rule. China promised to introduce the policy of “one country, two systems” to Hong Kong. This means that Hong Kong’s people would be allowed to hold their existing capitalist system and way of life with a high degree of autonomy, despite the state socialism in mainland China. The prosperity and stability of Hong Kong would be maintained under the Chinese national rule in future, and this peculiar ruling policy in Hong Kong would remain unchanged for fifty years (1997–2046).30 In connection with the Joint Declaration, China in 1985 began to draft the Basic Law of the Hong Kong Special Administrative Region of the People’s Republic of China, which was a subconstitution endorsed by the Chinese Constitution to specify the ruling framework special for post-1997 Hong Kong. There were, however, increasing disagreements with China from Britain and Hong Kong for their lack of participation in the drafting process. Subsequently, China engaged in a critical political dispute with Britain before their formal resumption of Hong Kong’s sovereignty.31 In 1992, Britain appointed Christopher Patten to be the last governor of the colony. In his first policy address, Patten put forward political reforms to increase the number of seats from direct election and the size of the electoral population for the coming 1995 election of the Legislative Council in Hong Kong. China immediately and vehemently denounced Patten’s reform proposal as a breach of the previous agreements underwritten by the Joint Declaration and the Basic Law. Patten rejected the accusations. China insisted that Britain ought to withdraw Patten’s reform proposal. China also utilized many opportunities through the mass media to reinforce their political stance on the issue of Hong Kong and repeatedly challenged Patten’s reform proposal as a colonial conspiracy to ferment social disorder and obstruct the smooth transition of Hong Kong to the fatherland. Nevertheless, Patten’s reform proposal gained widespread support from all walks of life and was formally approved by Hong Kong’s Legislative Council in 1994.32 Under these circumstances, China swiftly proclaimed that the future government in Hong Kong would neutralize any political changes from Patten’s reform proposal. Furthermore, they would immediately prepare another Legislative Council on their own to replace the existing one for

5,480

9,455

7,620

7,550

6,135

5,840

9,245

13,310

14,160

8,005

11,820

6,460

8,345

4,710

1972

1973

1974

1975

1976

1977

1978

1979

1980

1981

1982

1983

1984

21%

39%

28%

35%

33%

51%

51%

44%

38%

42%

36%

29%

43%

45%

Hong Kong

1971

Year

2,630

940

1,020

2,650

3,330

6,350

5,375

3,340

3,285

3,020

4,470

6,230

4,140

2,155

12%

4%

5%

7%

14%

23%

20%

16%

21%

21%

22%

24%

19%

18%

Kowloon

4,605

1,395

2,115

6,585

3,765

2,785

3,690

3,935

3,975

2,480

4,410

5,680

5,474

3,205

21%

6%

9%

19%

15%

10%

14%

19%

26%

17%

21%

22%

25%

26%

New Kowloon

10,325

10,940

13,545

13,420

9,390

4,500

3,855

4,350

2,325

2,895

4,335

6,035

2,975

1,400

46%

51%

58%

39%

38%

16%

15%

21%

15%

20%

21%

25%

13%

11%

New Territories

22,270

21,620

23,140

33,475

24,490

27,795

26,230

20,870

15,425

14,530

20,765

25,565

22,045

12,240

100%

100%

100%

100%

100%

100%

100%

100%

100%

100%

100%

100%

100%

100%

Total

Table 1.2. Statistics on the Annual Completion of Private Domestic Dwellings in the New Territories with Comparison with the Rest of Hong Kong.

30 Gender and Community under British Colonialism

12,875

11,865

13,615

12,570

5,900

7,095

7,165

8,862

6,986

5,068

3,596

1,240

1986

1987

1988

1989

1990

1991

1992

1993

1994

1995

1996

1997

7%

18%

22%

21%

32%

28%

21%

20%

34%

40%

34%

38%

34%

607

833

1,759

1,091

1,407

1,093

1,595

1,620

3,475

2,735

3,360

3,215

2,500

3%

4%

8%

3%

5%

4%

5%

6%

10%

8%

10%

9%

8%

254

1,258

1,033

2,778

965

3,971

6,765

4,025

1,650

805

2,715

1,970

3,725

1%

6%

5%

8%

3%

15%

20%

14%

5%

2%

8%

6%

12%

16,092

14,188

14,761

23,318

16,439

13,993

17,925

17,855

18,790

17,315

16,435

16,045

13,635

89%

72%

65%

68%

60%

53%

54%

60%

51%

50%

48%

47%

46%

18,202

19,875

22,621

34,173

27,673

26,222

33,380

29,400

36,485

34,470

34,375

34,105

29,875

100%

100%

100%

100%

100%

100%

100%

100%

100%

100%

100%

100%

100%

Source: Hong Kong Rating and Valuation Department, Property Review (various issues). Note: In 1971, the data of the New Territories only covered Tsuen Wan, the earliest developed area. Figures in percentages are rounded.

10,015

1985

The Story of the New Territories 31

134,875

211,978

35,440

105,100

43,400

71,700

159,700

118,800

20,100

67,800

108,600

73,100

61,400

81,600

40,800

62,800

1972

1973

1974

1975

1976

1977

1978

1979

1980

1981

1982

1983

1984

1985

1986

10%

9%

19%

10%

7%

10%

7%

2%

11%

19%

27%

21%

28%

9%

25%

16%

Hong Kong

1971

Year

116,800

27,400

54,100

45,900

54,300

46,900

60,100

79,300

36,700

31,100

30,500

33,400

27,900

31,774

36,107

108,655

19%

6%

13%

7%

5%

4%

6%

6%

3%

4%

11%

16%

8%

8%

5%

13%

Kowloon

247,600

121,300

118,800

150,200

167,100

212,000

328,000

282,000

422,400

245,200

69,700

21,100

50,300

85,102

228,310

346,076

41%

27%

28%

24%

16%

19%

34%

22%

39%

30%

26%

10%

14%

23%

27%

41%

New Kowloon

183,300

266,600

174,900

363,400

746,600

754,000

520,800

896,300

513,600

390,100

94,800

108,200

192,000

226,199

359,297

258,863

30%

58%

40%

59%

72%

67%

53%

70%

47%

47%

36%

53%

50%

60%

43%

31%

New Territories

610,500

456,100

429,400

620,900

1,041,100

1,121,500

976,700

1,277,700

1,091,500

826,100

266,700

206,100

375,300

378,515

835,692

848,469

100%

100%

100%

100%

100%

100%

100%

100%

100%

100%

100%

100%

100%

100%

100%

100%

Total

Table 1.3. A Statistical Comparison of the Annual Numbers of Completed Private Multistoried Factories between the New Territories and Hong Kong

32 Gender and Community under British Colonialism

76,000

129,500

217,700

65,900

79,400

30,800

30,400

19,300

34,500

12,600

1988

1989

1990

1991

1992

1993

1994

1995

1996

1997

7%

14%

8%

11%

10%

14%

13%

37%

15%

7%

1%

9,300

1,400

13,400

1,000

16,000

4,600

17,400

37,700

91,300

1,400

63,100

5%

1%

5%

1%

5%

1%

3%

6%

11%

1%

12%

43,900

82,200

84,800

90,500

22,900

84,000

157,000

104,600

147,900

236,200

239,900

24%

34%

34%

34%

7%

15%

30%

19%

17%

21%

44%

115,100

123,400

131,100

144,400

241,200

387,900

280,400

225,500

495,500

791,700

233,000

64%

51%

53%

54%

78%

70%

54%

38%

57%

71%

43%

180,900

241,500

248,600

266,300

310,900

555,900

520,700

585,500

864,200

1,105,300

540,600

100%

100%

100%

100%

100%

100%

100%

100%

100%

100%

100%

Source: Hong Kong Rating and Valuation Department, Property Review (various issues). Notes: Unit: m2. In 1971, the data of the New Territories only covered Tsuen Wan, the earliest developed area. For the period of 1971 to 1973, the old official measurement unit in square feet has been converted into metric figures by my calculation for consistency. Figures in percentages are rounded.

4,600

1987

The Story of the New Territories 33

C

7,030

6,522

Kowloon

New Kowloon

8,172

8,928

7,585 10,214

8,223

6,720

Hong Kong

6,362

New Kowloon

6,629

8,932

7,490

6,199

6,720

8,241

8,166

8,743

7,444

1985

New Territories

7,378

Kowloon

New Kowloon

Hong Kong

7,302

6,982

Kowloon

6,669

7,400

Hong Kong

New Territories

6,383

New Territories

A

B

1984

Class Area

1988

1989

9,454 12,112 14,379

1987

8,663 11,472 14,102

9,573 11,890 15,149

8,187 10,906 14,670

9,426 11,212 13,856 17,286

8,451 10,182 13,107 17,278

9,760 11,631 14,714 18,949

7,686 10,092 12,315 14,150

7,841

7,046

9,166 10,868 13,911 18,343

6,889

8,944 10,896 13,641 16,728

8,968 10,837 13,852 17,968

9,134 10,975 13,940 18,076

7,635

1986

1991

1992

19,420 24,902 36,137

19,079 25,486 35,934

20,698 28,505 44,019

12,666 19,100 30,623

16,435 22,818 30,624

16,347 21,926 30,676

20,976 28,755 41,152

15,650 22,454 32,539

18,497 24,391 32,696

19,590 25,422 34,552

20,775 27,917 38,930

15,909 23,145 32,881

1990

43,343

44,805

52,781

34,669

39,405

36,473

48,154

37,002

36,605

37,770

42,905

36,019

1993

1995

1996

68,305

70,427

54,983

83,568

59,606

57,606

56,537

69,304

59,481

1997

51,973 48,274 54,927

54,335 49,584 55,321

81,892

76,248

72,028 63,740 74,573 104,374

42,908 39,713 46,601

48,388 46,166 52,297

42,067 39,609 42,836

62,044 56,066 62,125

42,189 39,424 43,230

41,775 39,629 43,193

42,682 41,369 43,721

52,209 49,324 52,369

41,203 38,883 41,713

1994

Table 1.4. A Comparison of the Average Purchase Prices of Private Domestic Dwellings between the New Territories and Hong Kong

34 Gender and Community under British Colonialism

6,991

7,471 13,194 17,004 21,226

7,012

New Kowloon

9,449

7,077 11,430 11,386 10,369 17,628 20,823

Kowloon

8,284 11,124 12,827

7,613 12,315 12,080 13,708 17,163 21,751

6,534

Hong Kong

7,041

6,041

New Territories

9,804 10,272 12,029 15,338 18,914

9,431 11,373 13,646 17,054

New Kowloon

9,264

6,650

Kowloon

9,741 12,147 14,790

7,442 10,913 10,892 12,209 15,655 20,089

7,772

Hong Kong

6,839

6,422

New Territories

19,459 24,767 40,137

24,425 28,536 41,588

20,174 25,490 40,902

15,038 19,910 30,146

20,118 26,156 38,485

18,087 22,185 33,362

20,514 27,100 42,941

15,498 20,863 34,200

50,831

49,305

52,759

40,966

45,297

39,920

53,242

41,822

80,414

80,039

84,892

79,530

69,898 62,785 80,924 122,227

63,661 65,824 74,247 136,322

82,911 74,031 93,657 136,138

59,010 53,362 58,670

61,870 56,909 60,582

47,392 47,376 52,923

74,627 67,433 82,364 115,910

53,548 47,929 54,889

Notes: Unit: $/m. From 1984 to 1986, no official data for the whole year were given. The available official data for the last third or fourth quarter in these two years are taken instead. The classification of “private domestic” is Class A: not exceeding 39.9 square meters; Class B: over 40 but not exceeding 69.9 square meters; Class C: over 70 but not exceeding 99.9 square meters; Class D: over 100 but not exceeding 159.9 square meters; and Class E: over 160 square meters. For details, see “Technical Notes” in Property Review (1998).

Source: Hong Kong Rating and Valuation Department, Property Review (1985–1998).

E

D

The Story of the New Territories 35

36

Gender and Community under British Colonialism

the postcolonial administration of Hong Kong in accordance with the Basic Law and the decisions from their National People’s Congress. Thus, in the last public election of Legislative Council under the British colonial regime in 1995, Patten’s reform proposal was fully implemented and China subsequently established the Provisional Legislative Council in preparation for the future administration of Hong Kong. There was no improvement in the Sino-British relation but rather a series of unending humdrum political rows. This unpleasant impasse was the most significant political tension during the remaining years of British rule. The following chapters will look into a number of consequential impacts of this general historical process upon the local practice of Chinese villagers in the New Territories, and the local resistance to the different levels of colonial and patriarchal domination in Da Shu village. Table 1.5. A Comparison of the Average Purchase Prices of Private Multistoried Factories between the New Territories and Hong Kong Year

Hong Kong

1986

4,361

1987

Kowloon

New Kowloon

New Territories

4,746

4,102

3,052

5,426

6,343

5,576

4,273

1988

7,892

9,255

8,302

6,238

1989

10,409

12,041

10,798

7,665

1990

11,739

12,931

11,995

8,140

1991

12,922

14,180

13,380

8,925

1992

17,343

17,745

17,653

11,251

1993

22,678

21,208

21,737

13,648

1994

23,924

21,465

24,791

13,807

1995

21,612

19,331

21,028

12,664

1996

18,608

16,221

18,493

11,363

1997

19,239

14,893

18,944

11,375

Source: Hong Kong Rating and Valuation Department, Property Review (various issues). Note: Unit: $/m2.

240,386 28.6%

725,177 23.1%

690,180 18.6% 1,342,650 36.2% 102,520

716,272 18.1% 1,478,581 37.5%

749,600 17.0% 1,628,880 36.9%

1961 1,004,875 32.1%

1966 1,030,970 27.7%

996,183 25.3%

1971

1976 1,026,870 23.3%

2.6%

70,093

n.a. n.a. n.a. n.a.

1981 1,183,621 23.7% 2,449,021 49.1%

1986 1,201,459 21.8% 2,349,445 42.7%

1991 1,250,993 22.0% 2,030,683 35.7%

1996 1,312,637 21.1% 1,987,996 31.9%

n.a.

n.a.

n.a.

n.a.

10,190

17,620

37,553

49,747

59,200

0.1%

0.3%

0.6%

0.9%

1.3%

2.0%

a

From 1981 onward, New Kowloon is combined with Kowloon into one district.

938,440 21.3%

665,700 16.9%

542,600 14.6%

409,945 13.1%

98,157 11.6%

83,163 13.3%

81,227 17.7%

New Territories

2,906,733 46.7%

2,374,818 41.8%

1,907,031 34.7%

1,304,171 26.1%

Source: Hong Kong Census and Statistics Department, Hong Kong Census (various issues).

a

79,894

2.7%

4.3%

8.3%

71,154 11.3%

852,849 27.2% 136,802

22,634

1.5%

61,798 13.5%

409,203 48.6%

9,487

2.8%

1931

113,961 18.2%

13,205

347,401 55.5%

56,186 12.3%

1921

Marine

244,323 53.4%

New Kowloon

1911

Kowloon

Hong Kong

Year

Table 1.6. The Rapid Population Growth in the New Territories

6,217,556

5,674,114

5,495,488

4,986,560

4,402,990

3,936,630

3,708,920

3,129,648

840,473

625,166

456,739

100%

100%

100%

100%

100%

100%

100%

100%

100%

100%

100%

Total

The Story of the New Territories 37

38

Gender and Community under British Colonialism

Table 1.7. Annual Decline of the Agricultural Sector in the New Territories Year

Paddy

Market Garden Crops

Field Crops

Orchard

Fish Pond

Abandoned/ Fallow

Total

1954a 1958

9,450

912

1,407

385

—

1,098

13,252

8,988

1,462

1,382

447

—

1,056

13,335

1960

8,724

1,792

1,484

585

239

857

13,681

1961

8,024

2,497

1,840

633

320

740

14,054

1962

7,843

2,615

1,873

643

400

724

14,098

1963

7,268

2,760

1,768

635

461

821

13,713

1964

6,689

3,334

1,469

639

530

955

13,616

1965

5,783

3,278

1,355

631

651

1,970

13,668

1966

6,090

3,330

1,319

655

687

1,545

13,626

1967

5,815

3,504

1,201

671

732

1,683

13,609

1968

5,855

3,585

1,173

643

801

1,513

13,570

1969

5,872

3,804

1,015

631

837

1,384

13,543

1970

5,602

3,949

861

623

912

1,537

13,484

1971

4,568

4,053

800

641

999

2,288

13,349

1972

3,771

4,181

711

635

1,084

2,806

13,188

1973

2,978

4,196

627

623

1,165

3,314

12,903

1974

2,282

4,528

453

643

1,331

3,484

12,721

1975

1,110

4,980

380

650

1,550

3,590

12,260

1976

1,130

4,790

240

620

1,880

3,240

11,900

1977

330

4,170

100

560

1,870

4,100

11,130

1978

110

3,740

100

500

1,970

4,060

10,480

1979

40

3,490

90

570

1,830

4,120

10,140

1980

30

3,180

80

620

1,820

4,240

9,970

1981

10

2,970

80

690

1,840

4,260

9,850

1982

10

2,930

70

680

1,890

4,200

9,800

1983

10

2,810

60

670

2,100

4,100

9,750

1984

10

2,760

60

600

2,090

4,110

9,630

1985

10

2,720

50

540

2,080

4,150

9,500

1986

0

2,660

50

540

2,130

4,070

9,450

1987

0

2,510

50

530

2,110

4,070

9,270 (continued)

The Story of the New Territories

39

Table 1.7. Annual Decline of the Agricultural Sector in the New Territories (continued) Year

Paddy

Market Garden Crops

Field Crops

Orchard

Fish Pond

Abandoned/ Fallow

Total

1988

0

2,400

50

540

1,810

4,060

8,860

1989

0

2,230

50

560

1,720

4,060

8,620

1990

0

2,090

50

580

1,660

4,040

8,420

1991

0

1,980

60

620

1,650

4,030

8,340

1992

0

1,810

50

620

1,620

4,100

8,200

1993

0

1,740

50

620

1,610

4,110

8,130

1994

0

1,600

50

630

1,580

4,040

7,900

1995

0

1,350

50

670

1,560

4,200

7,830

1996

0

1,240

40

670

1,480

4,240

7,670

1997

0

1,080

40

670

1,410

4,290

7,490

Source: Hong Kong Agriculture and Fisheries Department, Annual Report (various issues). Note: Unit: hectares. a. During the 1950s, no official survey data of land utilization in the New Territories were available except for those from 1954 and 1958. In this table, the metric data from 1954 to 1974 have been converted from the old official measurement unit in acres by my calculation for consistency. “Paddy” includes “Fresh Water Paddy,” “1Crop Upland Rice,” and “Brackish Water Paddy” in the official subdivisions.

Chapter Two

The Story of Da Shu Village

Taking a closer look at Da Shu, a village about 25 kilometers from the city center of Hong Kong, this chapter captures the overwhelming changes taking place in the New Territories in the late twentieth century. Conceptually, the continuity of Chinese rural society in the New Territories, as many researchers have shown, is contingent upon a dynamic combination of internal and external forces of change.1 This chapter draws on oral materials to reconstruct the setting of Da Shu village, its relations with nearby villages settled by the Deng surname in the region of Fu Mei Au, and the change of this country throughout the British colonial era. It particularly examines the economic base of the village, labor migration from the village to the outside world, and the effects of rapid urbanization and industrialization from the urban areas of Hong Kong. It argues that the status of “indigenous groups” which legally determined the access to land resources and economic privileges for the Deng villagers over the past thirty to forty years was a result of the official ramification of Chinese lineage-society under British colonial rule. With a little stream meandering through from south to north, Fu Mei Au is one of the few flat and well-irrigated basins in the mountainous New Territories of Hong Kong. The indigenous residents in this basin come from one of the branches dispersed from the Deng clan, which had not only settled in the New Territories for centuries prior to the arrival of British colonialism but also claimed to be one of the five greatest, most populous, and wealthiest clans with numerous powerful kinsmen from generation to generation. The Dengs in Fu Mei Au established eleven small villages and collectively formed one higher-order village (or, in local Chinese terms, a xiang) among themselves. By taking the name of the place, their xiang is called Fu Mei Au Xiang. Through collective efforts, they built a three-tiered, classical, and grandiose ancestral hall which, according to the inscription at its 41

42

Gender and Community under British Colonialism

doorway, is now over three hundred years old. This ancestral hall currently provides them with not only a sacred religious venue for undertaking regular ancestral worships and collective celebrations, but also a formal meeting place for holding their supravillage assemblies, discussing their public affairs, and making their highest communal decisions. The other important communal establishments in their xiang include a kindergarten, a primary school, a Tainhou temple, a Taoist church, and an ancestral graveyard. Taking all of them together, their establishments in Fu Mei Au are multiple and cover educational, religious, political, and jurisdictional areas. Da Shu village is one of eleven small Deng villages in Fu Mei Au. The Dengs’ genealogy indicates that it was neither the earliest nor the latest Deng village in the region. It was founded through clan dispersion since 1740 during the Qing Dynasty (1644–1911).2 Geographically, it lies southwest of the center of Fu Mei Au and is linked with the other ten Deng villages by a twisting public pavement with numerous little footpaths. Topographically, it is open to an extensive stretch of fragmented farmland from west to north and is protected by a modest, undulating range of mountainous ridges from east to south (figure 2.1). Da Shu village is neither the largest nor the smallest village in Fu Mei Au, consisting of 70 one- to three-storied houses which all belong to the Deng.3 In addition, the Deng in Da Shu village are exceptional in their possession of an ancestral hall for their own functions and a communal study hall especially for their children’s study, which are not uniformly available in the other ten Deng villages in the same region. Yet, I was told in the field that both are important symbols of communal privilege. The communal study hall was ruined many years ago due to typhoon storms and lack of maintenance, and has since remained a bare piece of land. It existed only as a past glory to be recalled in everyday conversation. Only their ancestral hall, which is a modest two-storied structure with an enclosed forecourt, is still in good condition and in regular use. Da Shu village is built in a roughly rectangular shape with a consistent regularity in its spatial arrangement. The Dengs’ ancestral hall lies in the center of the village beside the currently ruined site of the old communal study hall. The size of the residential houses on average is about three to five hundred square feet. Most of them are built in an orderly fashion, next to the two sides of the ancestral hall in several parallel blocks, commonly facing the same direction to the northeastern side and neatly separated by little lanes with a main street to the village entrance. In addition, there are some extended residences outside the immediate village boundary with a public square, a Tudi temple, and a simple general store in close vicinity to the village (figure 2.2).

The Story of Da Shu Village

43

Fu Mei Au HONG KONG

Da Shu Village

ND

Legend Dengs’s villages

Farmland

Highway

Ancestral hall

Mountains

Pavement

Market town

Drainage

Footpaths

Figure 2.1. A Sketch Map of Fu Mei Au

At first glance, the physical layout of Da Shu village supports the conventional official stereotyping of the Chinese village communities in the New Territories. For example, the first colonial report by Special Commissioner Steward Lockhart in 1899 gave the following description:

44

Gender and Community under British Colonialism

II II

I II

III

III III

I I I

I I

I

III

I

I

I I I I

III

I

f

II

I I I I

III II

II

I

I

III

I

II I

I

I

I

I

I

II

III

a I

I I

I

I

I

I

I

I I

I I I

I

II I

I

I

e III

II I

I

I

I

I

I

I

II

III

I

d

I

b

b

c N

Legend Roman numeral: number of stories Residence for self-use

Extended living area

Residence for renting out

Open area

Residence for both

Communal facilities:

Obsolete residence

Figure 2.2. A Sketch Map of Da Shu Village.

a: ancestral hall

d: Tudi temple

b: public bench

e: village store

c: communal square

f: public toilet

The Story of Da Shu Village

45

They [the Chinese village communities] are rectangular or square in shape, and are enclosed within brick walls about 16 feet in height, flanked by square towers, and surrounded by a moat some 40 feet in width. They have one entrance, protected with iron gates. Within the walls, houses of the usual type are found, built with great regularity. There is one main street from either side of which small lanes branch off in parallel rows. The object of these villages being walled is to afford the inhabitant greater security in case of attack, and to place them in a stronger position of defense in the event of clan feuds.4

A recent official publication by the postcolonial Hong Kong government in a current preservation project of the local heritage shares the same point of view. It states, San Wai is also known as Kun Lung Wai because of the characters “Kun Lung” engraved on the lintel of the entrance. The walled village . . . is enclosed by green-brick walls. Four watchtowers were constructed at the four corners of the enclosing walls for the defense of the village. A pair of chained-ring iron gates was installed at the front entrance. The moat, [which] originally surrounded the walled village, has been filled up. The layout of the houses inside the village is in an orderly manner.5

This impression of the villages in the New Territories is widely taken as their true-to-type character. Similar characterization of the villages in the New Territories can be generally found in many local discourses. Tung Kok Wai is another local village in the New Territories, and a current introduction of the village states, Tung Kok Wai, established by the 13th generation ancestor Tang Lungkong (1363–1421), probably has a history of more than five hundred years. . . . The houses inside the village were mainly arranged in four rows and facing the northwest. Originally the village was enclosed by a moat, and grey-brick walls with towers at the four corners.6

Another obvious example is the case of Ma Wat Wai, a local village that is depicted with a similar physical image: Ma Wat Wai, which was built by the Tang clan during the reign of Qianlong (1736–1795), is located in the northwest of Lo Wai. The village is enclosed by walls on four sizes with the main entrance facing the

46

Gender and Community under British Colonialism north. A pair of chained-ring gates were installed at the main entrance. . . . All the houses in the village were built in orderly rows.7

However, a closer look at the situation quickly finds many discrepancies in the conventional official stereotypes, not just in terms of specific characteristics but even in the overall (old-aged and parochial) impression. For example, Da Shu village is not so “self-enclosed” and thereby “defensive” and “exclusive” in its physical setting. Its village entrance is without an iron gate or watchtower at the top, much less a surrounding moat. Its enclosure is not formed through any tall and thick walls as communal fortifications, but rather it is constituted by some minimal and truncated blocks that in turn are constituted by the outer walls of the adjoining houses at the four sides. This obvious variance in the physical setting of the village communities in the New Territories is not a singular exception. The outlook of many other village communities is also not identical to the conventional colonial and postcolonial official stereotyping. As far as the eleven Deng villages in Fu Mei Au are concerned, there are five more cases like Da Shu village in terms of their appearances. In a sense, the dominant and timeworn impression of the Chinese village communities in the New Territories as castle-like is a highly partial characterization that has served to produce a parochial imagery of a traditional Chinese settlement. “Walled village” has been an extremely common and widely accepted name in popular or academic literature for the Chinese communities in the New Territories that can be rather problematic because of its indiscriminate character. The circumstantial evidence suggests that the existing residential environment in Da Shu village exhibits few traditional architectural features. Instead, old and new houses are irregularly and abruptly mixed together ad hoc as a consequence of the frequent renewal projects by the Dengs for their residences. Most of their residences have been rebuilt into the two- or three-storied, highly elaborate, and bungalow-like Spanish-style houses at different times; only a few residences have remained unchanged and have therefore kept their original features: single-storied, simple, and crude brick houses with a scaled and ridged top in the old Chinese style (see pictures 2.1 through 2.8, which are photographs of Da Shu village). The Dengs in Da Shu village have long been undertaking renewal projects not simply for their own residential needs but also for earning rental income. Currently, they have also adopted an increasingly common practice of moving into their newest rebuilt houses in the extension area of the village in order to obtain better living conditions, while they lease their original residences and other ancestral houses in the village to outsiders. Some Dengs have moved to the city or even to foreign countries, with only occasional home visits for

The Story of Da Shu Village

47

short spells. Subsequently, the residents in Da Shu village consist of a large number of non-Deng people, most of whom are transitory immigrants from the general urban area of Hong Kong. The Dengs in Da Shu village are no longer the only social group and do not even constitute the majority of the resident population in the village. The criterion through which the Da Shu village is known as an “indigenous village,” or a “single-surname village” in an anthropological sense, is merely through their exclusive possession of the estate. “Indigenous” is a term based on structural and economic circumstances rather than based on the living reality. Table 2.1 provides some demographic information from my census to indicate the basic population structure of the village in early 2000. All in all, these complex residential practices and demographic patterns in Da Shu village come from various human dynamic and consequential shaping forces on the ground level, and they represent important changing meanings of land in people’s lives. Now I will go on to produce a historical ethnographic discussion of these meanings in the pursuit of a more substantial understanding of the formation of this community and, by implication, the process of social change in the New Territories during the colonial era—a process that currently remains muted under the dominant discourse. Table 2.1. Basic Census Data of Da Shu Village A: Housing Conditions Number of houses: 70 One-storied

Two-storied

Three-storied

53

9

8

Number of residential units: 84 Owner-occupied

Rented

Unoccupied

15

63

6 B: Deng Population

Number of people: 97 Within village

In extended village areaa

In urban area or foreign countryb

39

9

59

Within village

In extended village area

In urban area or foreign country

14

9

16

Number of households: 39

(continued)

48

Gender and Community under British Colonialism

Table 2.1. Basic Census Data of Da Shu Village (continued) C: Non-Deng Population Number of people: 98 Within village

In extended village area

In urban area or foreign country

98

n.a.

n.a.

Within village

In extended village area

In urban area or foreign country

36

n.a.

n.a.

Number of households: 36

a. “Extended village area” refers to the area outside of the immediate boundary of the village but within walking distance in Fu Mei Au. b. There are only three households living in the urban area of Hong Kong in total; the rest are all living in foreign countries, either the United Kingdom or the Netherlands. The Dengs’ households in this column do not include the households of the Dengs’ married-out daughters.

Oral histories collected from the elderly Dengs indicate that their material life in the past by and large relied on natural resources and the land surrounding their village. Their main heat source was the firewood they collected from the nearby forests. Only a few wealthy households could obtain their fuel from the marketplace. Their water was from a village well or the stream that flows through Fu Mei Au. The clan organization controlled the village well and charged the user-households a regular cash payment for fetching water from it. Under this communal rule, many poorer households were forced to fetch water from the stream, which was not only inferior in quality but also highly inconvenient. Most villagers maintained their livelihood through agricultural production from intensive cultivation. Their chief crop was rice, with two harvests per year during summer and autumn. Their complementary crops included various year-round and seasonal vegetables such as taro, sweet potato, legume, cabbage, lettuce, pai choi, turnip, and winter melon. Oxen were quite commonly used to help the paddy cultivation, whereas the vegetable crops were mainly planted by hand in some less fertile or residual fields. Villagers undertook their agricultural production not only for subsistence but also for sale in the market. The daily cycle of agricultural work with the occasional visits to the marketplace formed their common living routines. In addition to cultivation, they generally kept livestock such as hens, ducks, geese, and/or pigs. But most villagers just kept their livestock in some

The Story of Da Shu Village

49

corners in their houses while allowing a small number to run around in their courtyard. They seldom consumed their own livestock for their meals except for some special events, festivals, or celebrations, as it was normally for sale and in most cases livestock constituted an important source of household income for them. If they went to slaughter a pig from their own livestock, an old Deng villager said, it was an occasional and communal event: You know, people did not have refrigerators then. . . . If some household decided to kill a pig for something special, they had to run around the village to ask how many people would like to share the pig, discussed which part would go to whom, thought about whether it would eventually remain too much or not, so and so. It was very interesting indeed! The whole village also would feel very great and happy.8

However, I was told that in the past, the Dengs in Da Shu village had generally suffered from a lack of land for agricultural production. In spite of their powerful clan, they seldom obtained real advantages and privileges. On the contrary, there is a story told far and wide in their Fu Mei Au Xiang that their ancestors had given up much of their once abundant ancestral land for opium after the British merchants imported opium into China during the Qing Dynasty. Deng Yinfu, a village elder over seventy, is the oral historian of the Deng in Fu Mei Au. He said, Our ancestors had once owned abundant land for sure. I also learned from the elders, when I was a little boy, that those lands one could see at the highest point of Fu Mei Au were once all our ancestral land. But, I don’t know why there were always more bad sons than good sons! As the “red hair ghosts” [a local derogatory term referring to British colonizers] sold opium, people cared for nothing but opium and turned our ancestral land into opium smoke. Indeed, all the [ancestral] land we now have, are only the remaining bits.

Locally, information from the Dengs in Da Shu village indicates that very few of their households were fully owned by peasants or well-to-do landlords. Seniors among the village Dengs could name at the most two or three cases. The majority of them needed to rent land from other people for cultivation in addition to their own family land inherited from their ancestors. Some were even totally landless households who had to work as tenant farmers in others’ lands, thereby living under constant economic pressure to make regular rental payments. Worse, they claimed that they

50

Gender and Community under British Colonialism

had little bargaining power in the market for their agricultural produce as the people from another clan dominated it. When they went to sell their produce, they had to accept a lower price and claimed that they were often cheated through underestimating the weight of their produce. This made their agriculture-based lives hard, and many were nearly destitute. To meet their own domestic economic needs, I was told that most households in the village needed to take up seasonal or casual employment from wealthy households in nearby villages. The most usual jobs in this seasonal or casual employment were various miscellaneous agricultural or domestic tasks such as planting and harvesting other crops, clearing wild grass for others’ farms, and fetching water for others’ households. The additional incomes they could earn from these marginal activities formed an important part of their household economy. In general, getting by frugally in multiple (self-employed or employed) occupations was the rule. Lacking enough land to secure their household livelihood and thereby making do under constant economic shortages constituted most of their common past experiences. Through a reference to food, a Deng elder illustrated their humble agricultural past as follows: In the past, our life was miserable! What we could get for eating simply was rice and vegetable. What we drunk was well water. But the people now say it is unsanitary. Shit! Usually, we would simply mix the rice and taro together to eat and that was all for our daily meals. Isn’t it unbelievable? . . . Our past life absolutely is not a bit like the present people who have so much food, pork now, beef then, chicken now, fish then, so and so. Just like the Coca Cola, which the children now love to drink so frequently. Fuck! Needless to say, we never had a sip when we were children. We actually never saw this and knew what it looked like then!

The memory of economic misery in the old days was daunting, and similar discussion of prosperity and stability remains a common discourse among the elders in their current daily conservations. Da Shu village is a small community tucked away into an isolated corner that has never figured prominently on the historical stage of the world. However, local stories indicate that world history has had a great impact upon this small village and left numerous irrecoverable damages and injuries on people’s lives at different levels. During World War II, Da Shu village did not escape from Japanese imperial expansion and intrusions. When the Japanese took over Hong Kong from Britain by force, Da Shu village was quickly placed under their military control

The Story of Da Shu Village

51

and surveillance. The surviving Deng elders recall that their Fu Mei Au Xiang was renamed “No. One Station” under Japanese military rule. The villagers were required to select some village leaders among themselves to represent themselves and facilitate local administration for the Japanese officials. Both men and women were forced to toil for the Japanese armies and frequently met with humiliation, mistreatment, and even torture in their duties. The situation of women was the most vulnerable because of the risk of sexual harassment and even rape by Japanese soldiers. To reduce this danger and to protect themselves, they often soiled their faces with dirt to make themselves look ugly and often hid to escape from the Japanese soldiers. An old woman in Da Shu village recalled an encounter of hers during the period of Japanese occupation: The Japanese are all beasts! All should have no good ending! At that time [Japanese occupation], I was pregnant with a big belly. How was it that they [three Japanese soldiers] would seek to rape me? But, I was really deadly frightened. I kept shouting, “Help!” and ran back home as fast as I could. Still, they kept chasing me home. And, I had no room to go but climbed up onto the roof. God damn! They did not let me go but climbed up to the roof too. Finally, I was forced to jump over the roof without regard to my pregnancy and thought, “I must have died hard.” . . . But, thanks to my mother-in-law who finally came to save me no matter how dangerous it was. . . . Bastard Japanese! What the hell they did!

The Japanese occupation as an episode in the history of Hong Kong lasted for only three years and eight months. But, the current circumstance on the ground shows that the impact remained in the local practices even up to now. In the first place, the village men and women in Fu Mei Au still call their xiang No. One Station, as it was called under the Japanese military rule. The most important impact, of course, was the continuation of the village representative system by the British when they returned after the defeat of the Japanese. Local history clearly shows that this village representative system was not a “traditional” institution, as it was widely proclaimed by colonial administrators and as has become a taken-for-granted view on the society in Hong Kong. In this regard, Deng Yinfu argued, Village leader! Shit! It is a very, very late matter indeed. It appeared only after the Japanese came because they asked us to do it. And, we had to give them some people. Originally, we only depended on the elders to discuss and decide our communal matters. No election like

52

Gender and Community under British Colonialism the present one. Even after the [British colonial] government formally developed the village leader system into what they called as “village representative system,” our people still showed no real interest in it until the recent ten to twenty years.

Above all, Deng Yinfu pointed out that Japanese occupation with their frequent military actions produced terrible famine and destruction in the region. Numerous people lost their lives, many households collapsed, and the community remained critically depressed and impoverished for a long time. The number of their clan members in Fu Mei Au was rapidly reduced from about 970 to 200 during the occupation. Moreover, the extreme hardships in the past not only dislocated the local people, turning many into refugees, but also left many heartbreaking domestic tragedies and deeply painful personal experiences that continue to affect them throughout the later course of their lives. Uncle Xiang, one of the elderly residents who survived the war, is a remarkable individual case in point. According to his autobiographical account, he originated from an ordinary peasant family in mainland China. In the late 1930s, when he was in his teens, he fled to Hong Kong from mainland China to escape from Japanese aggression. Sadly, both his parents died from hunger and illness during their escape. When the Japanese subsequently invaded Hong Kong, his escape route took him to Da Shu village. As a result, he not only saved himself but also became an adopted child in a sonless Deng household. Most of the time, Uncle Xiang said, he seldom speaks about his early life during the Japanese war. In the community, his original surname is even now a long-standing mystery. His seven children are unclear on his original surname as well. All they know is that he was extremely griefstricken during that period of his life. Once, when Uncle Xiang unexpectedly talked about the death of his natal parents, he could not control his emotions but became very sad. With a long silence and a deeply sorrowful expression, he abruptly but emotionally ended his talk with the following words: Don’t want to recall that indeed! Don’t want to recall them indeed! . . . Even my seven children, I also never let them know. It was so sad! My [natal] mother. . . . [Deep sigh and silence.] Just leave that in my mind. Anyway, I have an alright life and brought all my children up!

However, Uncle Xiang’s personal enmity and aversion against Japanese rule is so strong that he could not help projecting them into

The Story of Da Shu Village

53

any Japanese influences. Once, he angrily discussed the currently popular practice of eating Japanese sushi in Hong Kong and forcefully argued, I have to ask those people who like this: how could they swallow up the fucking Japanese food! Have those people forgotten what the “Japanese ghost” [a local derogatory term referring to the Japanese] did to us! How the fucking “Japanese ghost” caused us deadly hunger! Fuck them off! I tried to escape from them again and again. But, they put me to a dead end. It was all because of them: I was so fucking miserable then. My real parents died and my family collapsed!

Starting from the postwar period onwards, Hong Kong underwent a dramatic and rapid industrial and metropolitan transformation, an obvious economic achievement that has widely been interpreted as a contemporary “miracle” in the modern world.9 However, oral history indicates the story on the other side was that these changes in part were brought about from the exploitation and extraction of labor and land from the New Territories throughout the later period of British colonial domination. The original agricultural practices of people increasingly failed to sustain their basic material life, which in turn led to numerous fundamental livelihood changes vis-à-vis the new economic reality in the villages and even included widespread migration for economic opportunities. Specifically, information from the older Dengs in Da Shu village shows that the first obvious livelihood change by them was the widespread rise of market-oriented crops in their cultivation practices. In practice, vegetables as the more saleable and profitable crop quickly replaced the paddy, which had long been their chief crop in the past. Their livelihood also increasingly relied on cash income from market exchanges rather than on their direct consumption of the crops they cultivated. But, the most remarkable change was surely the shift into the industrial workforce from about the late 1950s. It was a public project by the colonial government for the construction of a military camp close to the village that initiated such fundamental livelihood changes in their lives. During that time, according to informants’ recollections, official teams were sent to visit their community house by house to hire both male and female construction workers for the project. Subsequently, many men and women took up this new work opportunity. Some of them even continued to be employed by the government after the completion of the project by taking up other formal job positions in the military camp. In effect, this particular event not only created a common shared working experience in the histories of the elderly Dengs in Da Shu village, but also formed an important starting point of the transformation

54

Gender and Community under British Colonialism

of villagers from agricultural workers to industrial wage laborers in the city of Hong Kong. Generally, their personal stories show that the work they took up was highly diversified, including construction work, manufacturing, canteen waiters or waitresses, cleaning men or women, domestic servants, miscellaneous helpers, and so on. In their new industrial careers, they also had some flexibility in their occupations. The only thing that remained unchanged was that they were still living in extremely tough and hard conditions without adequate economic security. To make ends meet, they frequently took up numerous sidelines and take-home work. The most usual jobs they held in this area were the marginal tasks put out from the nearby factories such as turning over the seams of gloves, cutting the overlong threads of garments, assembling plastic flowers, and linking and rolling the raw rattan for furniture. Additionally, some of them worked as garbage pickers, thereby collecting whatever might be saleable recyclable rubbish like carton paper, aluminum cans, glass bottles, copperwares, and electric wires. Up to now, there are still some old people in the village who have kept up this practice, which is viewed by some as shameful. Beyond these multiple livelihood strategies in Hong Kong, ethnographic materials indicate that many Dengs in Da Shu village went to work abroad in Britain and the Netherlands in the early 1960s. In the local discourse, there was a prevailing myth that the path abroad could be the road to self-made riches. In particular, men would have the necessary exposure in the outside world to widen their horizons and develop their careers. Information from their personal histories shows that most men in the village who had worked in foreign countries had sent remittances back to their homes. In actual practice, their occupations in foreign countries tended to be mainly low-paid jobs in their relatives’ or friends’ restaurants. Worse still, most of them were working illegally and would seldom stay long abroad but would instead return to their home village and work in Hong Kong again. Some of them managed to settle abroad, but individual cases of achievement or enrichment were rare. Deng Feiyang is an example of one of the village men who still lives in the Netherlands with formal citizenship. During my research period, he returned to the village on one of his occasional home visits. In my interview, he shows that he has been working as a migrant-laborer in the Netherlands since the early 1970s. He worked as a cleaner in a small canteen and eventually settled down in Holland with his own family. He asserted, To say that one can make good money in Netherlands is only something to say. The sun there is hot too. What we usually do also simply

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is working in relatives’ restaurant. The people who turned out to be capable of opening ones’ own business, to be frank, were very few. But, in the past, we really had nothing to do in the village. There were no factories and no development in the surrounding area. Yes, we could farm the land but it earned too little. If we went out, we at least got some job to do. Just like me, what I could earn there, to begin with, was only about one or two thousand Netherlands dollars. It of course was not a large amount there. But, if I send them back to my home, it could make a big improvement of my family living as our living during that time was so poor. And, it is true. Hoping to see more of the world or having more experiences in foreign country was a reason a man like me in the village to go to the Netherlands.

As a consequence of the common rural-urban emigration trend, I was told that more and more Deng households in Da Shu village employed new immigrants from rural mainland China to cultivate their land. Later, they simply rented out their farmlands or even left them fallow. Some of the people who came to do farmwork or rented their farmland also rented their houses and lived with their own families in the village. Among the Dengs, an exceptional person who still undertakes his own cultivation is Uncle Xiang, whose life story has been briefly discussed before. He could not help frequently complaining about the present condition of agricultural production as being overwhelmingly hard, and the earnings as increasingly diminishing. “It is not enough to feed a bird!” was what Uncle Xiang ultimately said to describe the current depressed agricultural conditions in Hong Kong. Evidence from oral histories and ethnographic findings suggests that the processes of industrialization and metropolitanization in Hong Kong incessantly overwhelmed, and thus shaped and reshaped, the living environment and strategies of the Dengs in Da Shu village. Throughout the past several decades, the British colonial government also directly undertook more public projects to develop the New Territories and added various new infrastructures in the neighborhood. Subsequently, the main footpath to the outside world was enlarged and paved. Many trees and ponds were removed to provide more space for public areas and a transportation network. Buses and other public traffic commuted to the village and intensified communication with the outside world. The little natural stream of the village was artificially straightened, and channels were installed. Water pipes were built in the community, and private taps were installed in households. An electricity system was extended to the residences, and various electric appliances like light bulbs, electronic cookers, radios, televisions, and air conditioning steadily became common in their daily lives.

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Most members of the postwar generations in the village also became wageworkers in manufacturing factories or salary men or women in the business sector, and had no experience in agricultural cultivation at all. Furthermore, ancestral lands had been transformed into lucrative commodities in the property market with great demands resulting from rapid urban and industrial expansion; land was no longer just a means of production for agriculture as it had been before. Through selling or renting out their land, many Deng households in Da Shu village obtained strikingly substantial improvements in their economic conditions and even became extremely well-to-do. I was told in the field that Deng Baocai, a household head who was over sixty-five years old, is now the wealthiest nouveau riche in the village. He had at times received huge amounts of money as official compensation from the government for the resumption of his ancestral farmland. Even though he seldom told others the actual amount he earned from his land, his fellow villagers conservatively estimated that in just his latest deal with the government, he should have gained official compensation of about 20 million Hong Kong dollars. His accumulated household fortune by now has probably exceeded HK$30 or 40 million at least. Additionally, Deng Baocai in the village holds six ancestral houses with three units that he regularly leases at about HK$5,000 to HK$6,000 per month. Four of them are currently being renovated in order to rebuild them into larger two- and three-storied houses containing six units each for the rental market. On the other hand, the official Small House Policy allows indigenous males in the New Territories to construct one premium-free village house during their lives.10 I was told in the field that Deng Tuocheng, one of the village leaders in Da Shu village, recently purchased official land rights, or dingquans, a native term, from his kinsmen at a high price for the purposes of his private property business. After he successfully bought enough rights from his fellows, he pooled them together and carried out a large property investment to develop a residential complex with eight three-storied and extremely elegant houses, a special car park for each unit, and a welldecorated surrounding wall on abandoned farmland in close vicinity to the village. Two more powerful indigenous Deng males in the village joined together to use the same method to undertake a similar property investment. The new residential units from these two property projects were priced on average at about HK$2 million each, but they still quickly sold out. To be sure, ethnographic materials indicate that the indigenous Dengs in Da Shu village cannot all be compared with Deng Baocai, who gained so much from his ancestral estate, or the three exceptionally powerful kinsmen who made so much profit from their landed investments. However,

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most of them for certain enjoy considerable rental incomes from their ancestral estates and/or their special land rights to build a premium-free small house. In other words, they have commonly become “rent cultivators” instead of “crop cultivators” on their land, that is, they rely more on rent than on crops. This situation describes the particular local context: the existing complex physical settings and demographic patterns in their village. Their lifestyle has been fundamentally transformed, and their material, cultural pursuits emulate the lifestyle of the upper class. For instance, some households have owned private cars for many years. Throughout their social intercourse and occasional communal banquets, they frequently emulate the cultural tastes of the wealthier circles in Hong Kong and drink Western red wine. In their private practices, they have also taken up such leisure pursuits as collecting expensive plants or flowers to decorate their home or garden, keeping expensive breeds of dogs or cats as pets, owning high-quality hi-fi systems or televisions for audio and visual entertainment, and buying various fashionable items with famous brand names. However, there are indications that the rapid commodification of their land with a highly lucrative economic return has not only provided them with affluent lifestyles but also caused domestic disputes or interpersonal conflicts. Their household stories also show that violent arguments over family property, matters of division in particular, are increasingly common and can last from generation to generation. Domestic disputes ending with lawsuits among household members are quite numerous, too. For example, the Dengs in Da Shu village commonly admired Deng Tuocheng as a good village leader. But, they also recognized that he once quarreled with his two brothers on the matter of their shared family property left from two generations ago and that the two brothers subsequently had hired lawyers to deal with their case. In effect, his two brothers are so alienated from him that both often openly criticize him and show no respect to him as the village leader in the community. Occasionally, some of the other villagers also privately complain about his abuse of power for his own land interests. Deng Chunli, a middle-aged indigenous woman of about forty-five, has been out of the village since her marriage many years ago. However, in my interview, she revealed that a fellow villager unrightfully seized some of her deceased father’s properties. Her side of the story is that when her deceased father was still alive, he had by verbal agreement allowed this fellow and his family to occupy one of his houses on the condition that they had to help him to pay the official land taxes. But, since her father died, they claimed that house to be their property. Eventually, the District Office also supported this family’s case as they were the actual taxpayers.

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Zhang Arao, a landless young widow in the village, passed away about ten years ago. Her close contemporaries in the village recalled that during her lifetime, she had often complained about her fellow villagers cheating her husband of his family property through gambling. Once, she even went to the District Office for assistance, threatening them with suicide. Finally, the District Office intervened and helped her to get back some of her husband’s family property through mediation. The land disputes are so many and varied that it is impossible to detail all of them here. The following chapters also provide more case studies, so the issue need not be discussed at length in the present chapter. But, it is necessary to point out that the possession or dispossession of landed property has obvious ramifications with important social and economic effects. In the first place, the current circumstance on the ground indicates that there is now a clear class boundary between the indigenous Dengs and the other-surnamed people in the village. For instance, Lin Yuee, an aged woman about sixty years old, has been a tenant-household in the village for over thirty years. She expressed her resentment with a cynical smile about the dominance of the indigenous Dengs by saying, Their destinies are good! They are given with land [family property and fortune from succession]! They do not need to work for money! Just their rental earnings are enough for them to enjoy their life very much. All of them are landlords now!

Among the Deng clan members in the village, this situation has produced equally obvious and intensive class differences and resentments. One of the most common topics throughout their daily conversations revolves around their houses, with frequent comparisons and competition in both the quantitative and qualitative senses. Having or lacking a respectable house has become an increasingly important issue to them, as a house is critical to one’s social status in the community. Deng Quiren is an uneducated middle-aged man with a heavy stammer who lives in the village. He does construction work and has been employed by many fellow kinsmen to build their new houses. His own residence in the village, however, is simply an old village house, which he shares with his two brothers. He hated his current situation and took it as a family disgrace. He had hoped for a long time to gain a new, more stylish house through his connection to the dingquan. He also had developed a clear plan in his mind of how to build it, and frequently dreamed of how many economic advantages he could obtain if his plan came true. However, he never collected enough capital to pay for the construction to realize his plan. Rather than having nothing, he

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recently and unwillingly decided to sell his dingquan to the village leader. Although he earned HK$150,000 for selling his dingquan, he could not hide his deep disappointment and repeated his original but unachievable plan as follows: Yes! I failed to speak well and learned no words. But, I am not stupid. At least, I would not be like my foolish brothers who had education but never thought about how to use his dingquan. Indeed, if I had capital, my whole household would not be stuck in this fucking old house. And, I should already live in a new house and earn much rent. Then, I could use my earning as my capital to build another new house and so on. Then, that is me who goes to buy others’ dingquan and ask others to build house for him. How come I will be so poor? How come I only have one fucking word, “poverty,” for my life and fail to “speak louder” in the village?

The story of Da Shu village reveals a complicated process of community change in the New Territories. Some informants probably used the retrospection of the past to comment on the present, but their remarks reveal several important conceptual themes for the study of a Chinese village community in the New Territories. First, the local histories indicate that a Chinese village community in the New Territories is never a changeless, totally self-perpetualizing being, as Freedman, Potter, and Ng would like to claim.11 On the contrary, its continuity must be historically situated and contingently enabled, depending on how people undertake their different living struggles throughout different historical conjunctures.12 The actual circumstances of a Chinese village community also must be a congeries of multiple living experiences or, in Pasternak’s idiom, a “polyphony” instead of one uniform cultural model.13 Only in Da Shu village, there are many complexities and numerous significant variances at different aspects. People frequently exist with their different personal stories and with different historical senses. Just as Fernand Braudel pointed out, Men [should changed to “people” now!] can never be reduced to one personality who fits into an acceptable simplification; though many people have pursued this false hope. No sooner has one approached even the simplest aspect of his life than one finds his customary complexity there too.14

In Da Shu village, as in other villages, people generally obtained no advantage from their membership in what Hugh D. R. Baker called the

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Five Great Clans of the New Territories.15 They needed instead to get by through various marginal economic practices due to their landless condition. Their common status in practical terms profoundly remained to be poor peasants and deprived tenants. During the Japanese occupation, there were extreme hardships for people as a result of horrible starvation, forced migration, and irrecoverable collapses of households. Even after the whole event has passed for more than half a century, vivid historical memories still continued to exist in the locality. The violent impacts of war remain as the most horrifying encounters or deepest injuries in people’s lives. Since the postwar rapid development of Hong Kong, there have been fundamental social and economic transformations of the village community. The past agricultural practices with which people had closely lived with their land and directly made their material life from land rapidly declined to become a highly marginal occupation. In effect, the indigenous residents have been detached from their land. Most of them migrated out of their village to live in urban Hong Kong and even foreign countries. They have also sold or rented their ancestral estates, and the majority of them are now landlords. However, Rubie Watson is absolutely correct in this regard: class is an essential dimension in the practice of community life.16 Whilst their possession of land from family succession and/or their own creations has enabled them to adopt upper-class cultural lifestyles, long and deep domestic disputes among themselves over landed advantage at the same time are increasingly frequent and violent. Whilst some of them have even succeeded in becoming extremely wealthy property developers, class differences and grievances meanwhile become increasingly obvious and thick not only with outsiders but also with their poorer village fellows. On top of that, the impact of British colonialism upon the transformation of local lives was obviously consequential. Under their different public projects and specific policies, their political rule frequently penetrated the Chinese village community and continued to create new living environments and practices for the people. Accordingly, the extent to which the British colonial rule had in their own terms been “indirect” or “noninterventionist” is, of course, highly problematic and, as is now maintained by some existing researchers, fundamentally misleading. In particular, Chiu and Hung’s argument that, behind their mask of indirect rule, colonial rule is an ultimate modernizer is pertinent.17 There are indications that the general absorption of village people into the general postwar development of Hong Kong in the present case by and large came through the stimulation from British colonial rule. In the next chapter, I try to reveal some more actual sociopolitical features of the New Territories under British colonial rule.

The Story of Da Shu Village

Illustration 2.1. The Gateway of Da Shu Village.

Illustration 2.2. An Internal View of Da Shu Village.

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Illustration 2.3. An Old House in Da Shu Village.

Illustration 2.4. A Crude Residential Structure in Da Shu Village.

The Story of Da Shu Village

Illustration 2.5. An Earlier Example of a Renovated House in Da Shu Village.

Illustration 2.6. A Later Example of a Renovated House in Da Shu Village.

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Illustration 2.7. New Deng Houses for Sale Located in the Extended Village Area in Da Shu Village.

Illustration 2.8. Farmland in Da Shu Village.

Chapter Three

The Story of Chinese Lineage

Perhaps the most vexing issue in the study of Chinese village communities in the New Territories is an adequate understanding of the place of kinship, particularly the subtle transformations which occurred during the colonial era. By focusing on the history of the lineage of Dengs in Fu Mei Au, this chapter tries to identify and specify how kinship plays a part in cultural, economic, and political arenas. It argues that precolonial Chinese kinship was ideologically and practically patrilineal and patriarchal. Far from undermining these features, the British had come to reinforce and spread them to other areas of social life. Meanwhile, the Chinese patriarchs allied with the British to pursue their own interests in local politics. What follows is a critique of some of the fundamental discursive ideas surrounding Chinese lineage, especially the meaning of kinship terms in lineage practice, the patrilineal linkage and internal segmentation, the supravillage agnatic connections and corporations, and the male-only leadership in local politics.

THE MEANING OF KINSHIP TERMS IN LINEAGE PRACTICE The Chinese words zu, tang, and fang are translated into English as “ancestor,” “hall,” and “room,” respectively.1 These terms have a long history in the Chinese language with a wide range of meaning and extensions. With reference to Shuowen Jiezi (Explaining Simple and Analyzing Compound Characters), the first Chinese character dictionary compiled by Xu Sheng (A.D. 58–149), zu means the shrine for ancestral worship. But this primary meaning of zu is not in common usage, being mainly restricted to some ancient Chinese texts. The commentary on Shuowen Jiezi written by Duan Yucai (A.D. 1735–1815) defines zu as “originality.” By extension, the word has come to mean “beginning,” “initial,” “first,” “origin of people,” “source,” “creator,” “founder,” and, most usually, “ancestor.” 65

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But zu is gendered and carries a definite patriarchal meaning. It is a formal Chinese kinship term that refers to one’s grandfather or one’s general patrilineal forebears. Even though it is applicable to some relatives from one’s mother’s side, the dominant Chinese kinship model uses the derogatory prefix of wei to make the differences obvious. For example, the formal Chinese address to one’s father’s father and mother is zufu and zumu, while that of one’s mother’s father and mother is “wei” zufu and “wei” zumu. Wei literally means “external” or “outside” but contextually implies “less intimate,” “indirect,” or “lower-graded” kin here. Importantly, to use zu as a verb connotes a strong sense of power and has developed meanings like “worship,” “learning,” ‘following,” “obeying,” and “legislation,” thereby implying “the respectable,” “the paradigm,” “the model,” “the rule,” and “the law.” These literal meanings of zu are neglected by local Chinese people in kinship discourse. My fieldwork indicates that villagers in the New Territories use zu to refer to their ancestors in the patrilineal and patriarchal sense. But they rarely employ this term to address their grandfather or patrilineal forebears. They mainly adopt it to identify the eponymous ancestor who provided them with important communal estates and goods. Furthermore, zu is so literal that people seldom use it except in a formal context. They usually adopt the colloquial term taigong (the greatest grandfather) to address their zu (eponymous ancestors), which obviously carries a rather direct patrilineal and patriarchal meaning.2 Tang was an architectural term before it came to carry its several present meanings in its usage in Chinese kinship. Shuowen Jiezi defines tang as dian (the palace). But, Duan comments, tang also has other specific meanings. It can refer to “a square,” “a forecourt,” “the main room within a house,” “the lobby within a building,” and “a court of law” or “an administrative bureau” in the past dynastic government. More generally, it can refer to a “hall” and other similar architectural buildings like “public building” and “meeting place” specifically for collective activity or open assembly. When used as an adjective, it can imply “huge,” “brilliant,” “smart,” and “respectable” by reference to its common architectural features. However, tang as a kinship term carries a clearly gendered patrilineal and patriarchal meaning. It is a formal term to indicate one’s lateral relatives on one’s father’s side under the same patrilineal ancestors. For example, the formal Chinese address of one’s father’s brother’s children is “tang” xiongdizimei (siblings), but one’s father’s sister’s children and one’s mother’s brother’s children are “biao” xiongdizimei. Biao literally means “superficial” or “apparent” but, like wei, implies “less intimate,” “indirect,” or “lower-graded” kin here.

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Beyond these common usages, tang as a kinship term can refer to the agnatic corporation that has control over a communal estate from taigong. My fieldwork indicates that while some of the tangs possess a physical hall, others are purely imaginary constructs. Nevertheless, the lineage group at least has established its tang with a special title, and it uses it to mark its entitlement to the communal estate from a named taigong.3 This entitlement normally entails an indivisible and inalienable principle according to local rule, whereby it remains in the collective ownership of the lineage members through patrilineal succession from generation to generation. Fang in its primary sense was also an architectural term before it became a kinship term. Shuowen Jiezi defines fang as shi zai bang (side room). Duan comments that the term specifically refers to the rooms on the eastern and western sides of the house. However, fang in the Chinese language has numerous common extensions. For instance, in the privacy of the home, the term is now used to represent “sexuality,” “the “wife,” and “concubine.” It can also be adopted to indicate any specific rooms within the house and, by implication, component parts like “organ of the human body,” “professional division,” and “official department,” and various types of roomed structures like “apartment,” “factory,” “church,” and even “honeycomb.” By the same token, fang as a kinship term means “agnatic branch” within a lineage. Amongst the Dengs of Da Shu village, this term in their kinship vocabulary is sometimes used to refer to any agnatic branch at different generation levels or, rather more narrowly, any specific “household” within a lineage. However, fang as a kinship term frequently carries a strong sense of the private and refers to the domestic realm. The estate in a fang also comes under some different rules from the communal one in a tang. In the first place, the rights to the estate belong to the individual, and these are alienable rights in practice. They can also be equally divided among the holders’ descendants. But, here the rule of patrilineal succession remains. Even when a specific fang fails to provide a male heir, the estate can be passed down to the holder’s nearest kinsman in the lineage and become that kinsman’s property according to The Qing Law Code. These three precolonial Chinese terms in the field of kinship have survived throughout the British colonial period. The specific land entitlements vis-à-vis these three Chinese kinship terms also obtained new legality from the British colonial codification of them into law under their special policy of indirect rule for the New Territories.4 The following section examines how these three Chinese kinship terms work in the context of a specific lineage during the colonial period.

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PATRILINEAL LINKAGE AND INTERNAL SEGMENTATION The Dengs in Da Shu village claim a long genealogy and their common ancestor Deng Xinxing (?–1801) as their taigong.5 By reproducing and giving social support to a common genealogical history that traces them back to this ancestor, the Dengs see each other as kinsmen related through patrilineal links and generally consider themselves to be “brothers” with the same consanguinity. Their genealogy and interpretations indicate that their taigong, Deng Xinxing, belonged to the eighteenth generation in the clan6 with a seven-generation distance to their existing twenty-fifth generation up to the year 2000. During his lifetime, Deng Xinxing took a wife from the Liao and had four sons with her. Most importantly, his grandfather (A.D. 1679–1742) during the Qing Dynasty was not only a respectable member of the literati, bestowed with the official honor of gongsheng (junior gentry), but also the founder of the Da Shu village. The lineage branched out and went on to establish the Mu De Tang line with considerable communal estates and goods. Since his four sons also had their own families and the lineal succession continued to branch out, the lineage subsequently reformed into four main fangs and claimed for themselves The Four Families (Sijiatou) (see figure 3.1). Amongst the Dengs of Da Shu village, their lineage practice is accompanied by other, nongenealogical features. I frequently found that many people had only fragmentary or extremely rough notions of genealogical development, as they often said, “It [genealogy] is very complicated,” “I can’t remember much,” “I only know a few,” “I need to check with the genealogy,” “You should ask the elders,” and so on and so forth. In short, they considered themselves to be somehow patrilineally related whilst not necessarily being clear on the historical background of their lineage. It was mainly in cases of dispute or potential conflict over the resources held by an agnatic corporation over communal estates and goods that they would make occasional inquires into their specific patrilineal linkage as shown in their genealogy and then take this as the ultimate point of reference. From the inception of British colonial rule, land legislation and administration required Chinese people to have sili (managers) who were responsible for the communal estates. The Dengs in Da Shu village began the practice of regularly appointing four kinsmen to take up these official positions on an agnatic basis. In practice, they had already decided that each of the four main fangs in their lineage should have one male representative to act as the official silis of their communal estates and goods in the Mu De Tang. Thus, in total they had four silis and normally recruited

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Founder of village (1676–1742)

Taigong (Deng Xinxing [?–1801]) Establishment of Mu De Tang

The Four Families

Figure 3.1. The Kinship Diagram of Mu De Tang in Da Shu Village.

them through regular turns among the male household heads every four years. The silis were also in charge of various essential tasks concerning the agnatic corporation. For instance, they had to work out their main income from the collection of rent from the communal estate in the Mu De Tang. They also had to deal with the main expenditure from their regular collection of monies for worship and sacrifices for the taigong. In addition to these necessary routines, they had to regularly bank the rental income to earn interest and to hold public meetings to allow their kinsmen to see the accounts and to discuss their management of their collective affairs. Moreover, they had to annually figure out the total cash surplus their Mu De Tang could earn from the communal estate and divide this equally amongst their kinsmen. Nevertheless, amongst the Dengs, their lineage practice is fundamentally segmental and internally differentiated. The Dengs in Da Shu village are not all necessarily under the Mu De Tang and do not all share the same communal estate and goods. In addition, there are two more tangs in the village, namely, Zhen Hong Tang and Ri An Tang. It is important to note that the lineage lines of these additional tangs have become blurred due to their long coexistence with the Mu De Tang in the village. It is difficult for people from the Mu De Tang or these other two tangs to clearly recall their origins except for some highly generalized speculations. Nevertheless, there is a de facto acceptance of their coexistence, as it is commonly presumed as

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a consequence from the decision of their taigong. In a conversation with an elder from Mu De Tang, he explained, They [the Dengs in Zhen Hong Tang and Ri An Tang] also are our brothers with the same surname of Deng. And, they have been living in our village for many years. Some past elder said that they “joined in” our village. Maybe they did something or passed through something before they lived in our village. But, “how,” I don’t know! Anyway, it should be something that happened during the age of our taigong.

The population size of these two tangs in Da Shu village is considerably less than the Mu De Tang (see table 3.1). But, similar to the Mu De Tang, both have their own agnatic corporation over their own communal estate and goods along with their occasional collective worship for their own taigong. This lineage composition in Da Shu village supports David Faure’s argument that genealogical linkage frequently was a matter of people’s own invocation, and this invocation had to do with people’s right of settlement in the same territory. Such practices are not directly related to their claims to property ownership of the communal trusts organized around their different ancestral cults and estates, a subtle but common nuance in Chinese lineage practices. David Faure further elaborates his argument: It is in the nature of the tracing of descent that every lineage can be considered to be a segment of a wider lineage if only an earlier ancestor can be posited. . . . Whether the genealogical linkage claimed is real or fictitious is beside the point for the purpose of lineage organisation: it matters only that members of the lineage are prepared to accept the linkage as real. . . . Most lineages, however, possess little beyond the rights of settlements. . . . [S]egments of a wider lineage may share the rights of settlement in the same village without sharing an ancestral hall or conducing ancestral worship in common.7 Table 3.1. Internal Differentiation among the Dengs in Da Shu Village Mu De Tang

Zhen Hong Tang

Ri An Tang

Total

Households

34 (87%)

3 (8%)

2 (5%)

39 (100%)

Male members

46 (79%)

9 (16%)

3 (5%)

58 (100%)

Source: Census data from fieldwork up to 2000.

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This scale of lineage composition indicates that, while the settlement development in Da Shu village generally rests on some traceable or imaginative patrilineal linkages, its existing constitution as a “lineage-village” is not simply a case of localized unilineal descent by natural growth. To put it in another way, the village is created through socially motivated affiliations between unilineal descent groups from the same clan in a specific historical conjuncture. This conforms with Ellen Judd’s observation that Chinese village communities show a “residentially structured predominance of agnatically related men in territorially based communities.”8 In the next section, I will show how a similar organization can be found at a higher-ordered geographical level above and beyond the immediate domain of Da Shu village.

SUPRAVILLAGE CONNECTIONS AND AGNATIC CORPORATIONS Despite their internal segmentation, the Dengs in Da Shu village said they had a collective overall taigong called Deng Bafang. By tracing an earlier common genealogical history from him, descendants articulated a patrilineal linkage with men from the other villages in Fu Mei Au and normally considered them to be their “brothers.” Specifically, according to their genealogy and the way they interpreted this, they said that Deng Bafang (A.D. 1361–1421), their overall taigong, was born in the sixth generation of their clan, with a nineteen-generation distance before the current (in 2000) twenty-fifth generation. Deng Bafang was the first son of his father, Deng Qingcong (A.D. 1302–1387), who had been a powerful official in the government and eventually moved into Fu Mei Au through his purchases of lands and properties for his retirement. In Deng Bafang’s own marriage, he had six sons with his wife. Since his six sons also married, they continued to have male offspring after offspring, so much so that their male offspring subsequently dispersed into the eleven villages in Fu Mei Au and collectively founded the whole region as their common place of home. The localized clan in Fu Mei Au also consists of six large fangs, each with more branches, subbranches, and so on and so forth. Most importantly, when Deng Bafang gained his father’s huge inheritance, he established a grandiose ancestral hall in his memory in Fu Mei Au. He also created a tang called Liang Guang Tang to establish his father’s inheritance as the communal estate and goods for his male offspring (see figure 3.2). In effect, all his male offspring in Fu Mei Au (including most certainly those in Da Shu village) now have a share in the communal estates and goods from his great legacy of the Liang Guang Tang. They also call him their “big taigong,” or Fu Mei Au taigong, and at a supravillage level,

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Founder of Fu Mei Au (Deng Qingcong [1302–1387])

Overall Tai Gong (Deng Bafang [1361–1421]) Establishment of Liang Guang Tang

Dispersing descendants with continuous lineal growths into the eleven villages in Fu Mei Au

Figure 3.2. The Establishment of Liang Guang Tang in Fu Mei Au.

they collectively undertake their higher-ordered agnatic corporate activities using Deng Bafang’s great legacy to them. Likewise, the Dengs in Fu Mei Au regularly appoint silis to manage the communal estates and goods in their clan. In their case, they prefer to formally recruit their silis through regular public elections instead of taking regular turns among their kinsmen every four years. Deng Yinfu is one of their most senior silis, in charge of management. As already mentioned in chapter 2, he is also the knowledgeable oral historian of his clan. Currently, he has acted in this high public position for his fellow kinsmen for over fifteen years and has also earned himself an informal but powerful title as the “Big Boss.” Throughout their supravillage public meetings and discussions, he is frequently the chief speaker representing their interests in matters of communal estates and goods. During one of my interviews with him, he showed that the accumulated assets of the communal estates and goods from the Fu Mei Au taigong in their Liang Guang Tang currently included the following four items: (1) one bank account to the amount of HK$13,000,000; (2) eight three-storied village houses in two new residential towns; (3) two shops in a market town; and (4) more than twenty plots of farmland in different locations. He added that the total annual rental income from these communal ancestral estates was about $1,300,000. The total annual expenditure on regular collective ancestral worship and other occasional ceremonies and banquets for the whole clan was around $350,000. In total, the annual surplus of the communal account balance was about $1,300,000—$350,000

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= $950,000. Moreover, the number of kinsmen under Liang Guang Tang, the shareholders of their agnatic corporation over the communal estates and goods from their Fu Mei Au taigong, was currently around 700 heads of household. They did not, however, have an established rule to regularly divide the annual surplus among themselves. Instead, they would normally let the surplus accumulate in their communal account as public foundation monies. Only when these monies became abundant enough would they start to consider the matter of how to divide it amongst their shareholders. The last time they had this communal sharing was ten years ago. The informant could not recollect the amount obtained from that particular communal sharing, but he still clearly remembered that their method of distribution was 30 percent per each agnatic branch and 70 percent per each male head.9 The supravillage agnatic corporate control over such a set of considerable communal estates and goods creates in itself not only common interests and businesses but also various internal mistrusts and disagreements. Deng Yinfu complained that his fellow kinsmen had for a long time shown no concern over the affairs of Liang Guang Tang that they collectively shared. During his early participation in the management affairs of the community, not only was the attendance low but the proceedings were also characterized by little input. Often only a few words were uttered during the proceedings, with no serious discussions or forceful arguments. Such lukewarm attitudes in the clan continued during the past two or three decades when the Liang Guang Tang made some handsome proceeds from the considerable official compensation for the development of lucrative properties on their ancestral land. This all happened, however, at a time when Deng Yinfu increasingly met with disagreements with fellow kinsmen concerning his management of their communal estates and goods. One time, Deng Yinfu added, he had been, on account of his fellow kinsmen’s secret accusations, suddenly called in to testify before anticorruption officials regarding the communal accounts. More recently, I observed that Deng Yinfu’s candidature in the latest round of public elections unexpectedly met with an open and blunt attack from some of his kinsmen. Not only did one of his kinsmen nominate his son to compete against Deng Yinfu, but he also filed an open complaint letter against Deng Yinfu’s management on the day of the public vote in the ancestral hall. The objective of his complaint was to prevent Deng Yinfu’s candidature, as he was still under official investigation for corruption. On the publication of the letter, there were immediate and vehement objections and numerous forceful counterarguments from some of the attendees in the ancestral hall. One of the attendees angrily criticized this open call as an unacceptable violation of their fundamental lineage rule:

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Gender and Community under British Colonialism How can we be entitled to say we can cancel one’s right to his participation into the clan! As his surname is Deng, he is one of our members. He must have this right. It is absolutely unchangeable. Even if he is truly proved to be guilty for corruption, he still has this right for sure! If you hate him, if you don’t trust him, you can vote against him. But, it is fucking ridiculous to ask us to follow your fucking call!

The result was that the kinsman’s son lost the election, while Deng Yinfu was successfully returned in his position. Deng Yinfu said that he expected the deep suspicions and various secret or open attacks from his fellow kinsmen and didn’t care about them. But, he could not ignore the discontent from an increasingly common voice from his fellow kinsmen over the ancestral business of their Liang Guang Tang. Namely, they formally or informally urged him to divide up more or even share the common foundation amongst the shareholders. Accordingly, Deng Yinfu angrily accused them of a lack of basic common sense and morality: They absolutely are all bad sons! . . . Only considering their self-interest all the time. If we really share up our taigong’s money, how can we work to develop our tang! As the old idiom goes, “Only sitting and eating must one day use up the material even if it is as huge as a mountain.” Actually, they are mindless too. Yes, it sounds huge, a hundred and so million dollars. But, how many villages and people do we have? So, how much money could they really obtain if we share the money? Maybe, it is enough for them to have some short journeys or other enjoyments. But, a real and long advantage? No!

Despite this problem, many of his fellow kinsmen still came back with their counterarguments. In a casual meeting, one of them forcefully made his point as follows: What the hell makes us have so many fucking conflicts? It is all because there is a sum. Right! If we share it up, there will be no need to have so many arguments and everyone will be happy. That is why I suggested sharing it up. Keeping it for what? Bring fucking trouble on one’s own!

In general, Deng Yinfu is deeply concerned about the continuity of the communal business in his clan. He finds it imperative to work against the current trend of the rapid decline of the inalienability and indivisible principle of the communal estates and goods in his clan. He explained,

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In fact, it has already been wrong for us to sell our ancestral land, much less sharing up of them. Because, it must reduce our property to keep our clan. Yes, I find it inevitable too. Just like the farmland, if we just keep them, we at most can earn about several hundred rents per year. But, if we sell them, the money we can make may be several millions and even more. It is totally incomparable. And, if it is a sale to the government, we even cannot say no! For, they have the Land Resumption Law forcing us to do so, no matter if we want it or not. As such, it surely is rather necessary to develop new property or, at the very least, keep a sum for our clan if we want to keep our clan and make our clan good. Otherwise, how can our clan become a clan?

MALE-ONLY LEADERSHIP IN LOCAL POLITICS The coming into existence of a supravillage communal network in Fu Mei Au is a consequence of the British policy of indirect rule. For example, it seems that the British had never officially recognized each of the eleven little villages in Fu Mei Au as independent administrative units. On the contrary, the British simply drew them in together as one administrative village throughout their rule. In local terms, the British actually took their xiang (higher-ordered village) as their base of administration rather than the immediate villages. Therefore, it was the supravillage unit that was the fundamental level of British colonial administration. Consequently, since the British introduced the postwar village representative system into their rural administration, the district office required the Dengs in Fu Mei Au to select three village leaders10 among themselves to act on their behalf for four-year terms. In practice, the British also directly adopted the prevailing male-only rule in the regular open election of village leaders. Accordingly, I was told in the field, the procedures of male-only public elections of village leaders grew increasingly formal. Initially, the Dengs in Fu Mei Au simply undertook the election of village leaders on their own among their kinsmen and openly cast their votes by raising their hands in the ancestral hall before reporting the end results to the District Office. But, subsequently, the District Office came to organize and supervise the proceedings of the whole event. They produced application forms for the participants complete with a specific application period, and they also provided people with formal ballots and collection boxes for anonymous votes on the voting day. On top of that, the District Office sent a team of working staff with a chairperson to manage the voting process, and eventually they proceeded to read out the end results in the ancestral hall.

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According to knowledgeable local informants, the village leaders in Fu Mei Au had for a long time been empowered with influential official positions and various decisive executive powers in the local political field. Externally, they held official advisory status in the local administration, including land affairs such as the occasional implementation of public construction projects and providing official compensation to people, in particular for the resumption of their property. Internally, they acted as chairpeople in the supravillage communal meetings of their clan, in the arena of public discussions and decision making. Moreover, their public tasks included checking up on the communal account of Liang Guang Tang kept by the silis, organizing occasional collective ceremonies and functions, dealing with the complaints of people, and helping them with formal applications to the government for the construction of small houses and the succession of family property. Within this important communal political domain, the Dengs in Da Shu village, as one of the integral participants, have not only kept up with their intensive participation but also been remarkably influential. In the first place, it was Deng Tuocheng who, as noted before, came from the village to act as one of the three village leaders in Fu Mei Au. Throughout the day-today political practice, Deng Tuocheng’s private property company became an informal but essential social and political meeting center for his different fellows from the different villages in Fu Mei Au. In his daily rounds, he regularly stays in touch with his company in order to meet up with the villagers and deal with their requirements. He regularly uses his company as a free meeting place for them to undertake their social transactions and daily pastimes such as chatting, joking, and playing mahjong or cards. The other two village leaders and activists in their clan have also adopted his company as a meeting place in order to discuss their daily affairs with him. Accordingly, he not only has made himself popular among his village fellows, but also is able to make use of important new information and any new circumstances regarding his clan. As a matter of fact, Deng Tuocheng is also the most senior village leader among the existing three, with his continuous reappointments for the last three terms of office over the past twelve-year period. Throughout the past three rounds of open elections of the village leaders in Fu Mei Au, he has continued in his official capacity with little resistance as there were no fellow kinsmen who competed with him. One of his peers explained, Politics must have some dirty unsaid business! If the number of candidates to the election is not more than the three quotas, the government simply appoints them to be our village leaders. No real election is needed. All in

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all, we have our methods to make “compromises” [to keep the number of their candidates no more than the quotas] among our brothers.

However, the “compromise” that this informant mentioned was not always achievable in political practice. In the early winter of 1998, during my fieldwork, the government officially arranged for a new round of public elections of village leaders for the new term of office from 1999 to 2003 in Fu Mei Au. On this occasion, Deng Tuocheng had to confront five open competitors from his fellow kinsmen in the clan.11 Critically, this round in the public election had allowed both men and women to have the same participatory right. The official electoral population list, openly proclaimed in Fu Mei Au, showed that the registered voters included 309 men and 256 women. This was the first time that Deng Tuocheng had to engage in a real public election and the first time that he had to confront a new pool of female political participants from his clan. In the end, seniority gave Deng Tuocheng a decisive advantage in the competition for his position as village leader in the clan. Many people in Fu Mei Au had already privately shown their support for him prior to the voting day, due to their long familiarity with him. Some of them had requested his help in the past. They had made private gambling bets, and the odds on him losing were the lowest or, conversely, his chances for winning were the highest. Eventually, it turned out as expected in that Deng Tuocheng won the election and obtained the highest number of votes from his village fellows. As successful as he was, Deng Tuocheng and his close assistants had many complaints about the new official policy on female voters. In particular, they found it very difficult to persuade the young female group to their side. One of his assistants angrily blamed the new policy and the young female voter population. He stated, This year [this election] is particularly troublesome! The new fucking policy makes our business unnecessarily complicated! The women also have right to voting. And, the young ones are the most troublesome ones. They have their own thoughts, but they will not show you what they think. Our strategy against old women cannot work on them. Because, they are different from old women whom we can simply use some words to persuade them. Even if it is not enough, we still simply need to give them some little benefits that will work.

In practice, Deng Tuocheng also needed to mobilize his wife to obtain the support of female voters. On an arranged occasion before the final voting day, his wife even utilized a festival day to present chickens as gifts

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for the female villagers and claimed this day as marking a special household celebration meal. The dominant political practice in Fu Mei Au is still androcentric, despite female participation in the regular public elections of village leaders. In particular, attendance at the communal meetings for collective decisions on the highest decisions conducted in the ancestral hall still remains an exclusive prerogative of kinsmen. No women were allowed to attend these meetings. An old man explained to me that the agnatically androcentric rule could even be enforced through violent means. He asserted, Once, a woman actually went to the meeting in our ancestral hall. She was our previous clan leader’s wife. But the people gave her no face. As she started to say a few words, Guoci (a Deng kinsman) immediately held up a chair and interrupted her words. He said that “here is our ancestral hall! How come women can talk here! If you dare to say fucking more, let’s see whether I will turn you out or not!” Seeing that, her husband and sons had no words to say. After all, this is a male place. It is improper for women to go and talk there. All they could do at that moment was to immediately ask her to go.

Remarkably, similar cases could take place among the kinsmen when it came to arguing with one another concerning their public affairs. The prevailing practices in the communal meetings indicated that internal collective discussions frequently descended into violent disputes and even, on some occasions, aggressive fights with their opponents. In other words, there were few smooth and peaceful discussions before the time for open voting by raising their hand. As a result, many men were averse to attending such unpleasant and hostile events. One man commented, I of course have the right to go there [the communal meeting]. But the people [the constant attendees] there absolutely are barbarians. They seldom talk in a sensible way. Only loudly argue with one another and claim to fight one another all the times as what the typical gangsters do. I fail to understand why they could have so much talk and energy to make so many arguments even to the unnecessary trivia. I have my job to do. I don’t have time to bother about how they argue over our taigong’s business and make the decisions. Just let them go for it in their way and do whatever they like! The only important thing is that I can have my share.

All these case studies draw attention to a close linkage between the British colonial rule and Chinese patriarchal power in the New Territories.

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Some patriarchal elements long predated the British colonial rule, and Chinese lineage practices indeed served as a unifying force that bonded the descent segments into one cohesive structural whole, symbolically through a common genealogical framework and also materially through the control held by continuous agnatic corporations over multiple ancestral estates and goods.12 But the picture in Da Shu village is far more complex than had been stated in the scholarly literature. The lineage practices in Da Shu village are full of internal contradictions, and seem to represent the case suggested by Pasternak.13 Whilst some people act to rely on the lineage for communal aggregation and survival, other people are interested in lineage practices for segmentary division and personal benefits. The impulse to internal unity always coincides with the pressure for division. Importantly, there are indications from the present case that Chinese lineage practices in the New Territories did not enjoy that degree of substantial growth and central importance in their own locality until ancestral estates grew increasingly marketable in the recent development of the New Territories under British colonial rule. Chinese lineage practices also gained an increasingly formal political position and power under British colonial rule through the establishment of the postwar rural representative system. Accordingly, it could be said that Chinese lineage practices in the New Territories are amplified by new economic and political powers associated with British colonial rule. The British claimed to be keeping the status quo in their official discourse, but that claim was frequently contradicted by their transformations of the status quo in actual practice. In short, it was due to the impact of British colonial rule that the Chinese lineage practices in the New Territories acquired their current features that were of central authority in the practice of communal village life with close corporation over ancestral estates, despite the fact that these features now have been generally taken as their most original and authentic “traditional” ones in many current discourses. The social history of the New Territories during the British colonial era is not straightforward. As Chun put it, “The more things remain the same, the more they change!”14 In the colonial context, the example of the Dengs also demonstrates Jones’s critique of the colonial encounter in the New Territories as a case of mutual reinforcement of British colonialism and Chinese patriarchy.15 Incidentally, the evidence from Da Shu village indicates that the consequential economic and political amplification of the Chinese lineage practice in the New Territories during the recent British colonial era was a resurrection of an old, extremely patrilineal and patriarchal discourse in the village community that operated at different levels. Its main features in practice normalize not only a patrilineal succession and distribution of communal

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estates and wealth, but also an androcentric leadership and the organization of the public realm on an entirely male basis. Together with colonially recognized privileges, Chinese patriarchs could openly and even violently exclude women from participating in various essential economic and political activities. The contradiction between the official claim and the actual practices of the colonial government of New Territories in effect benefited the Chinese patriarchs who have amassed landed wealth and power. In Da Shu village, British colonial rule, with its legal and administrative means, ultimately reinforced the landed privileges Chinese patriarchs derive from their agnatic corporation over their ancestral estate at different levels. Chinese patriarchs obtained increasingly substantial economic advantages from their agnatic corporation as a result of the rapidly rising market value of their land made possible by the general development of the New Territories. By building on Chun’s argument, I thus would like to suggest a supplementary aspect of the colonial encounter in the New Territories: “The more contradictions in their ruling policy the British colonial government created, the more symbiosis with the Chinese patriarchs they maintained!” Nevertheless, it is still necessary not to overestimate the colonial-cumpatriarchal order in the New Territories as Jones once did by viewing it as entirely monolithic and without any variations.16 In fact, the case of the Dengs in Da Shu village has indicated as well how this colonial-cum-patriarchal order inherent in the Chinese lineage practices in the New Territories frequently failed to maintain local harmony but created instead competition for landed interests and official titles amongst the patriarchs resulting in internal ruptures and conflicts. In the next chapter, I move on to show the vulnerabilities inherent in this colonial-cum-patriarchal order by examining how people engage with this order in their household and community life at the ground level.

Chapter Four

The Story of Local Practices

Patriarchy” literally means “the rule of father.” In Chinese, it is usually translated as fuquan. However, the term fuquan remains technical academic jargon by and large. The villagers whom I encountered in the field never use this term. When they talk about “patriarchy” in their discourse, they do not use any specific word. They directly discuss the power and privileges that the male head of household enjoys in the family and the community at large. These kinds of power and privileges include patrilocality, paternal authority over the domestic sphere, patrilineal succession of family property, male-only membership of the communal corporation that controls the ancestral estate, and the male-only rights to participate in communal affairs on an agnatic basis. This feature reminds us of the necessity to maintain the conceptual rigor that “patriarchy” should not be interpreted simply as male domination, and that it should be understood as a specific form of male domination which only provides fatherhood with authority and superiority over other men and women. The overuse of “patriarchy” prevents us from seeing some remarkable specificities of patriarchy in practice and leads us to overestimate the actual magnitude of patriarchy in society.1 By concentrating on the example of the households in Da Shu village, this chapter tries to highlight some of the complexity of Chinese patriarchy at the practical level. The term “household” refers to the living unit where people establish their home and conduct their domestic life.2 This chapter begins with a closer look at the cooperation between men and women in the organization of household work and responsibilities. Then it highlights the common features of village men and women with respect to their gender-specific conduct inside the household and their different daily activities. In so doing, it argues that Chinese patriarchy is not a set of male privileges and power which are conferred upon every man, and that many Chinese men actually fail to 81

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be patriarchs. Even when it is legitimized by the British colonial government in the New Territories, it remains fundamentally indeterminate and vulnerable in practice. Many of the households have developed their own informal and alternative practices, despite the local claims to the centrality of patriarchy.

COMMON LIVELIHOODS BETWEEN MEN AND WOMEN A common livelihood strategy among Deng lineage members in Da Shu village is to have household earners in multiple occupations to make ends meet. The choice of occupations is not gender-neutral. There is an intensive cooperation between the two sexes throughout the different stages of their domestic life which remarkably shapes the role and practice of gender at the grassroots level. From a reading of the male and female adults’ working life stories in Da Shu village, it is clear that for most of them, the senior cohorts in particular, they had to work extremely hard in tough conditions throughout their lives. From childhood, they had to take on work in order to contribute to the support of their households. There were only a few exceptions among those obtaining a certain level of education, mostly part-time. The opportunity for women to have an education was rare. Many women thus remained illiterate for the rest of their lives. As one elderly woman points out, “We did not have a childhood. We only had work!” This emotionally charged statement expressed a sense of loss and disappointment about lack of education that was common among the older women in Da Shu village. As in other Chinese rural communities, most villagers in Da Shu village held a stereotyped image of the ideal household. The husband was perceived as a full-time breadwinner, the wife as a full-time mother, and the children as full-time students. But in reality, many husbands and wives had to work together to earn a living. Their adult children (both sons and daughters) normally worked to contribute to the household economies, too. In some cases, the adult children supported their retired parents and became the breadwinners in the household. It is only since the 1960s and 1970s that the male-centered nuclear household has emerged in Da Shu village. Studies by Myron Cohen, Hugh Baker, and She Yunchu and He Quoliang suggest that the structure of the household often changed in time and space, and each household varied from the other.3 The situation in Da Shu village is no exception. There were many ways of running a household, none of which could be reduced into one single model. During

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my research period, there were seven nuclear households out of the total twenty-three households. There were eight single-member households (bachelors, spinsters, or widows living alone), a single-couple household (husband and wife living together), a single-parent household (a mother living with children), four stem households (married or fully matured children living with their old parents), and two extended family households (three generations living together). In each of these households, it was normal to expect women to be actively participating in the management of household livelihoods (as wife, mother, or daughter). Their household roles were also commonly recognized as important in the community. In many cases, their economic relationships with men hold essential emotional and personal significance in the practice of gender relationships. A good example is Ma Yuerong’s conjugal life with Uncle Xiang. Yuerong married Uncle Xiang through an arranged marriage when she was twenty years old.4 After she was married into Da Shu village, she worked as a peasant farmer and toiled with her husband to undertake all agricultural tasks on the rented farm. Even today, their cooperation in farming is the basis of their common activities and day-to-day interactions. Ma Yuerong saw her life as a cycle of unending hard work. Even during her confinement, she was unable to take time out, which she felt to be the deepest loss of her life. But she loved to demonstrate through her stories how her husband had worked shoulder-to-shoulder with her for the interests of the household. Reflecting on her marriage, she felt deeply pleased that she married such a hardworking man. As she commented on her marriage, I married my husband through the introduction of a relative. But, I never saw him. No dating, not like the present people at all! I only learned about him from my relatives. They said that he was a peasant in a village and he was good. So, I trusted my relatives. But, I have been lucky as what they said was true. He is good. He is willing to work and take care of his family.

Similar to many village women, the well-being of Yuerong’s marital life is largely determined by her close working and sharing of household burdens with her husband. Even so, there are indications that the cooperation of this farming couple was still barely enough to meet their household needs. An added burden to their relationship was that both Ma Yuerong and Uncle Xiang had hoped to have a son. To achieve this shared expectation, they had

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five daughters before they eventually managed to achieve two sons. Ma Yuerong explained, Since we [Ma Yuerong and Uncle Xiang] lived together, we wanted to have a son. You know, we are rural peasants. Our minds normally are more traditional. When we pass away, we also need a son to hold the funeral ritual for us according to the rule. If not, it will be, you know, very shameful. The people may come to laugh on you too. When “our taigong give us pork” [when their lineage organization shares ancestral goods], the people also only give them to households who have sons. . . . But, Uncle Xiang and I at first failed to have any sons. Before I finally gave birth to Weiming [their first son], we had already given birth to four daughters. Actually, I had had no will to have more children then. But, Uncle Xiang felt it would not be safe to have only one son. If there was something going wrong with him, he was afraid that the household would have no heir. So, he hoped to have one more son. But, I once again unexpectedly had a daughter before I had one more son.

Clearly, Yuerong and Uncle Xiang were under tremendous financial pressure to sustain such a large family. Their household lives became harder as the household income from farming declined. They eventually had to engage in various other income-generating activities. The most common one was to take up manual tasks from nearby factories such as assembling flowers, linking and rolling raw rattan, cutting the overlong threads of garments, turning over the seams of gloves, and collecting recyclable garbage like electric wire, soft drink cans, newspapers, cartons, and glass bottles. Both Yuerong and Uncle Xiang complained that there was no substantial improvement in their economic conditions until the first of their elder daughters started to work and make regular contributions to the income of the household. They also used their earnings to allow their younger sisters and brothers to go to school rather than work. In 1985, they drew out all their savings to rebuild their ancestral home, the state of which Uncle Xiang had felt to be a personal and household shame. When the renovations on their home were completed, the household possessed a new and fashionable two-storied house with several rooms and balconies. Both Ma Yuerong and Uncle Xiang continue to live happily in it with their adult children up to the time of my fieldwork. When Uncle Xiang talks about his household, he occasionally expresses his gratitude to his wife and elder daughters. In particular, he

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appreciates his wife for her willingness to share the past domestic hardships with him. He admires his daughters as among his favorite children who possess a great sense of filial piety. In a casual conversation, he once again discussed the renewal project of his ancestral house. Lastly, he expressed his high regard for his elder daughters, who surpassed his expectations: “That I can now live so comfortably is all thanks to my daughters! They truly helped me a lot.” Despite the largely undifferentiated gender division of labor in the economic activities in the fields, other, more marked domestic gender differences exist in the village. Women are responsible for food preparation and daily chores, and men enjoy the right to ask for domestic services from women. This is still the normal practice in the village. In some cases, the village women need to provide further domestic services for the higherstatus women in their home such as their mother or mother-in-law. Since most women are responsible for the running of the household, according to Bozhongliang, another elderly woman in Da Shu village, a village woman lives under this “double burden” throughout the different stages of her life. She discussed the hardships of this burdensome lifestyle in moving words: When I was a child, I started to learn how to do household work. Of course, it could be said that I was the lucky one because my household was not so poor. What I needed to do then was not so much indeed. But, it was really stupid to get married in our age. We would not have dating like the present people. We also never thought about running away [divorce] but simply put up with all the hardship. . . . Every morning, I had to go to work on the farm. At about noon, I had to collect firewood and then cart it back home. If one’s husband were good, he would help her to do the household work. But, day-to-day, I needed to prepare some warm water for my husband and wash his feet once he came back home. I also needed to cook the two meals per day for my husband and mother-in-law. If I failed to do this on time, my motherin-law would scold me and tell me I am useless. Some mothers-in-law in other households would even beat their daughters-in-law or ask their sons to punish their wives if they failed to perform the household work well. During the summer nights, I needed to fan my babies to make them sleep more easily, before I could go to sleep. . . . Later, I changed my job and worked in a construction site. I still needed to do all the household work and serve my husband and mother-in-law. But, luckily, I only needed to tolerate my mother-in-law for six years. She passed away six years after I got married to my husband. I never

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Gender and Community under British Colonialism treated my daughters-in-law the way my mother-in-law treated me. Since I became their mother-in-law, I would also help them to look after their children. . . . Now I can say that I am enjoying the easiest time. I don’t need to worry about the matter of making money any more. I can simply let the younger generation make their living on their own. You know, all my children have grown up. They have their own households. Some of my children’s children have their own households, too. What I now have to do only is to help my deceased husband to keep the ancestral property for the children. I have been in retirement for a long time.

Similar to Ma Yuerong’s story, Bozhongliang’s remarks challenge the existing scholarly literature on the structural analysis of the Chinese household. A household is not a static, unitary, and monolithic entity, but it consists of specific domestic histories, living stories, personal narratives, social interactions, and shifting relationships with different domestic members and extradomestic kin at different times.5 Gender hierarchy and relations in a household are part of dynamic human structure and are subject to local circumstances and the intricate interplay among people pursuing their own projects.6 For example, not all men are capable of upholding patriarchal authority in the household. They are seldom as strong and powerful as the dominant patriarchal discourse maintains. On the contrary, men frequently fail to achieve the fundamental domestic requirements and social expectations of the dominant patriarchal discourse.

MALE INCOMPETENCE If the patriarchal order is to continue in practice, the household head must be succeeded by the male heir. However, this fundamental structural demand poses a vexing issue of succession for the household. The genealogical history of the Deng lineage in Da Shu village showed that over several generations, men failed to father a son because they remained bachelors for life, turned out to be infertile in the marriage, or sadly lost their sons through infant mortality or other unexpected fatal accidents. Table 4.1 depicts these events in the Mu De Tang (the largest Deng lineage) in Da Shu village at the different generation levels. This table indicates that Mu De Tang has continuously suffered from a large proportion of sonless men for many generations. A turning point occurred in the twenty-second generation, which marked the peak of the Mu De Tang and the beginning of their continuous decline to the present time.

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Table 4.1. The Genealogy of Mu De Tang: A Cross-tabulation Table Level of Generations

Number of Sonless Kinsmen (by)

(from 1740) Number of Marriages

Infertility

Premature Death

Gross Proportion Total of of Sonless Kinsmen Kinsman (%) Total

XVII

0

0

0

0

1

0

XVIII

0

0

0

0

1

0

XIX

0

0

0

0

4

0

XX

0

1

0

1

11

9

XXI

0

0

1

1

14

7

XXII

2

3

5

10

27

37

XXIII

2

2

3

7

19

36

XXIV*

2

2

4

8

24

33

XXV**

n.a.

n.a.

n.a.

n.a.

27

n.a.

Source: Information on the written genealogy from the Dengs and from my census data for the generations up to 2000. * The present senior generation. ** The present junior generation, including twenty-six adolescents up to 2000.

The remarkable issue here is that it does not simply concern demographics. Figure 4.1 is a full kinship diagram of the Mu De Tang that clearly shows what happened in their official patrilineal order when their kinsmen failed to have sons at the different generation levels. This kinship diagram reveals that the people in the Mu De Tang did not maintain a consistent patrilineal line and expansion. The official patrilineal order contained numerous lineal discontinuities, irrecoverable truncations, and even entire terminations of specific branches and subbranches. Thus, the fictive kinship practice of adoption that kept their agnatic branches extendable started from the second ancestor and occurred continuously throughout their later development as a consequence of their frequent failures to produce a patrilineal heir. On the other hand, their ancestors also time and again had their sons adopted by the lineage practice of guoji between two brothers or common brothers in the clan. I was told that this practice was common when one brother possessed more than one son while another brother suffered from the lack of a son. The brother with sons was willing to give one of his sons

KEY Deceased wives Living wives Migrated abroad

Living male

Adopted in

Adopted out

Migrated abroad

Adopted out

Premature mortality

2 [Fourth Fang (branch)]

XXVI (1979–)

XXV (1949–1979)

XXIV (1919–1949)

XXIII (1889–1919)

XXII (1859–1889)

XXI (1829–1859)

XX (1799–1829)

XIX (1769–1799)

Founders of Mu De Tang

XVIII (1739–1769)

XVII (1709–1739)

XVI (1679)

Level of Generation*

*The Dengs’ written genealogy traces the founder of Da Shu village as having lived between 1679 and 1742. The beginning of this Deng lineage can be dated as starting from the birth date of their founder. The number of years contained in the following generation are estimated figures. This estimation is made on the hypothesis that it took about thirty years for the rise of a new generation.

[Third Fang (branch)]

Deceased male

[Second Fang (branch)]

Adopted in

[First Fang (branch)]

The zu/taigong (eponymous ancestor) of the lineage

Founder of Da Shu village

Figure 4.1. The Genealogy of Mu De Tang: A Kinship Diagram I

88 Gender and Community under British Colonialism

KEY Deceased wives Living wives Migrated abroad

Living male

Adopted in

Adopted out

Migrated abroad

Adopted out

Premature mortality

[Third Fang (branch)]

Deceased male

[Second Fang (branch)]

Adopted in

[First Fang (branch)]

XVIII (1739–1769)

XVII (1709–1739)

General adoption (adopted son from another family/son adopted to another family)

Guoji (interbranch adoption)

XVI (1679)

Level of Generation

XXVI (1979–)

XXV (1949–1979)

XXIV (1919–1949)

XXIII (1889–1919)

XXII (1859–1889)

XXI (1829–1859)

XX (1799–1829)

XIX (1769–1799)

Founders of Mu De Tang

Another independent lineage

2 [Fourth Fang (branch)]

The zu/taigong (eponymous ancestor) of the lineage

Founder of Da Shu village

Figure 4.2. The Genealogy of Mu De Tang: A Kinship Diagram II

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to his childless brother.7 As far as that son was concerned, his biological father became his fictive uncle while his uncle became his fictive father. This is a remarkable example of internal adoption between the agnatic branches of the clan.8 Figure 4.2 is an extended kinship diagram from figure 4.1 that gives a comprehensive picture of how the ancestors in Mu De Tang adopted their fictive sons and had their natural sons adopted. This extended kinship diagram also reveals the practice of guoji in the Mu De Tang. The most important point about the Mu De Tang’s genealogy is that the continuous structural need for a male heir is actually beyond human capacity to sustain. Using biological analogies, we can say that the ever-dispersing genealogical tree has to be kept going by transplantations from other seeds and growths. A patrilineal order is in fact an artificial arrangement. It is not a natural order derived from a biogenetic reality. Rather, it is a social order, which requires men to use their kinship relations to support the continuity of patriarchal rule. In this social order, men need to borrow others’ male kin to meet the continuous social structural need if one’s biogenetic capacity fails to give this pseudo-natural order a son. The insistence on a strict patrilineal order and therefore on patrilineal succession ironically creates a constant critical threat to the patriarchal order itself. It is a double-edged situation and creates huge burdens. In 2000, I encountered a sad event in the field when Deng Deming, a male elder in Da Shu village, passed away. According to the Deng genealogy, Deming was of the twenty-third generation and belonged to the first subbranch of the third fang (main branch) of the Four Families under the Mu De Tang (please refer to figure 4.2). His grandfather, however, was infertile and adopted a son from his younger brother by guoji. His father (i.e., this adopted-in son by guoji) also was infertile and once again needed to find a fictive son in order to continue the lineage. On this occasion, some villagers recalled that he met little Deng Deming by chance and adopted him when Deng Deming was in his teens. Deng Deming was an orphan; both of his parents had died during World War II, and he had wandered into their village one day seeking opportunities to make a living. Before his adoptive father adopted him and gave him his present name, he worked as a child laborer in his adoptive father’s farm. Unexpectedly, Deng Deming also suffered from infertility, and his sole son was not born to his wife but instead came by adoption. It was known to the villagers that Deming had bought his adopted son from a prostitute. But later everyone felt sad about Deming’s misfortune as his adopted son became a drug addict at the age of sixteen and ended up in prison more often than he stayed at home.

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Up to now in the community, it remains uncertain about how these events were seen to have affected Deng Deming. The villagers merely observed that there was a dramatic personal change in his life. He abruptly absented himself during the regular communal assemblies, occasional festivals, and celebrations of the clan. In his daily rounds, he isolated himself and hardly talked to anyone. The old villager Deng Hanjie had been close to him since childhood. With many complex emotions, he recalled, He [Deng Deming] was active and playful when we were young. I clearly remember how much fun we had and how exciting it was when we stole sweet potatoes from somebody’s field and cooked them together in our habitual corner. Also, one Lunar New Year, he and I really had a silly matter of “bullshit,” as we naughtily put the burning firecracker onto the bull’s shit and didn’t have enough time to run away. But, I didn’t expect that his character would change so quickly once he was married. After we had discussed this many times, we could not help making a guess that this was a case of his self-humiliation because of his failure to father a child! The point is that we all got married more or less at the same time. For a time, I was the most shameful one who was only able to have daughter after daughter. But, he never did achieve anything—even a daughter. It could be that in this way he could not help feeling humiliated and developing his later odd behaviors.

In general, the dominant patriarchal discourse overdetermines the male capacity and strength. It vests men with singular superiority and power but meanwhile creates a sense of deep anxiety and incompetence. It is a hegemonic system of male privilege, but it is also a fundamental fiction of male might. The present ethnographic case suggests that the rule in the prevailing patriarchal discourse largely is the exception in the living reality. In practice, the behavior of men frequently goes against the expected “proper behavior” according to the commonly held understanding of the rules and codes of behavior. Clearly, my interviews with the villagers at Da Shu village suggest that the senior men and women shared the idea that a man ought to be independent. At the very least, he should not rely upon his natal household. He should work to earn his living as an adult. He should also take care of the livelihood of his own household. At best, he might develop a prosperous career by having some businesses and acquiring properties of his own. He should do his best for his household, set an excellent example for his children as a person with good conduct, and honor his household.

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At first sight, men seem to meet the last mentioned common social expectation to some extent. Most of them have their own work and have organized their households. Some of them even have established land businesses and have become property developers. Collectively, their genealogy also indicates that they have had some kinsmen who have earned a respectable status as scholars successful in the state examination, some of whom became powerful bureaucrats in the government in the past. However, ethnographic information shows that men have frequently been engaged in self-defeating practices behind their public personae, indulging in such vices as heavy gambling. The men in the community ran a simple clubhouse for themselves. They regularly dropped in for talking, joking, drinking, smoking, playing cards, and mahjong. When they gambled, they played for large stakes late into the night and even overnight. On some occasions, one of them did not show up for work in the morning. Besides these extravagant daily amusements, many men habitually engaged in other forms of gambling activities and expensive pastimes. During the racing season, they loved to hang around and bet on horses. During the holidays, they visited the casino together. Some of them even had strong interest in some costly games such as bird fighting, cricket fighting, and dog fighting. As a consequence of their indulgences, they seldom spent much time and energy on daily household routines. By default, they had little immediate or substantial influence in the domestic sphere, where, theoretically, they should rule through their exclusive patriarchal authority. Above and beyond this level, their interest in gambling often threatened the household harmony and even led to household collapse. Frequently, women’s disputes with men revolved around the men’s negligence of daily domestic practices and their occasional loss of considerable amounts of money on the gambling table. There are also cases in which men sold ancestral land and property holdings to pay their debts, which led to disputes among their household members. A good example is the household of the late Deng Ganlin, whose son recalled how his father gambled away all their ancestral fortune during his lifetime and caused so much hardship to the family. My father was terribly fond of gambling. When he was alive, he had already lost all our ancestral lands and houses, which our household should previously have had quite a lot of. As far back as I could remember, he never needed to work during his lifetime. He also was a powerful man in the clan. But, due to his reckless gambling, he had even mortgaged the house where we lived before his demise and left us a lot of his remaining debts. . . . At that time, our household was

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really fucking miserable! The people frequently popped in our home and asked my mother to pay my father’s debts to them. Some nasty bitches in the village also used this moment to humiliate my mother and laughed at us for our poverty. Once, my mother uncontrollably began to argue with them. They collectively beat up my mother. What could I do at that moment simply seeing how these fucking bitches beat my mother? For, I just was a little boy in my teens at that time. If my father were not so fond of gambling, our household surely would not remain so poor now! I would also have no need to work so hard to make my living!

On the other hand, I observed that many men in the village indulged not only in gambling but also in other leisure pursuits and even in extreme laziness. It was a common practice for men to take time off from their work for leisure and entertainment. The most extreme cases were Deng Rixin, Deng Quidao, and Deng Baofu. None of them had a full-time job. They were not married, and continued to live in their household of birth. They relied on other household members. They were given shares from the ancestral business, which was managed by the other household members. Many villagers often criticized this gang of three as “a branch of scum” in the clan. The people in Da Shu village have been ashamed to be related to these three men. They saw the eldest one, Deng Baofu, as the greatest disgrace to the clan. Baofu was frequently denied his patriarchal privileges at both the domestic and communal levels because of his poor personal behavior. The people also kept distance from him because they disliked him expressing silly statements all the time. But Deng Baofu often bragged of his academic achievement up to the tertiary level. The villagers said that time and again, Baofu invited them to see his photos, especially the one showing him wearing a bachelor’s gown and cap. In addition to this arrogant behavior, at the occasional communal banquets, he publicly demanded to be seated on the stage in their ancestral hall on account of his scholarly status. But the people found this behavior to be deeply insulting and disrespectful. Throughout my fieldwork at Da Shu village, Deng Baofu was involved in some shameful behaviors in the eyes of the villagers. It involved his mother, who one afternoon suddenly died from old age. Since his father also had passed away many years ago, the inheritance of ancestral property arose in his family. As the eldest son in the household, Deng Baofu proceeded to transfer the title to the ancestral property under his own name in the official documents. He found to his consternation that his mother had already secretly passed all the ancestral property to his younger brother during her lifetime. He therefore failed to get title to any ancestral property

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and obtained no share at all. Consequently, he could not help openly crying and asking other villagers and elders why his old mother had trusted his younger brother instead of him. He also felt shocked and publicly blamed his deceased mother: “I have nothing now! I really have nothing now! I hate my mother in my bones!” But, almost everyone in the village agreed with his deceased mother’s decision. One of his mother’s friend commented, Afen [his deceased mother] surely passed the things [property] to his younger brother. He at least is a normal man having a wife, sons, and daughters. He could keep the family line continuing. But, [Deng] Baofu had nothing appropriate. He said he is a university student. But, who knows if that is true! He of course is the eldest son in the household. But, so what! He is such a fool!

All these cases illustrate how male hedonism, self-indulgence, mediocrity, and stupidity fundamentally undermined the high domestic expectations of them and the prevailing patriarchal discourse. If the village men were so frequently in default and even self-defeated on the ground level, what would happen to the village women and their actual role in the local household and community? This question will be addressed next.

MATRIARCHAL AUTHORITY According to patriarchal rule, Chinese women are subjected to their patria potestas vis-à-vis their fathers or husbands. In particular, they should dutifully serve them and totally abide by their orders.9 But when women become mothers and mothers-in-law, they can exercise real power over their households. While they may feel oppressed as wives and daughters-in-law, in their role as mothers, they are largely revered. In Da Shu village, there was a radically different practice in the constitution of the local community from the official patriarchal discourse. A lot of women, in fact, become the real household heads as the official male masters die or withdraw. Many village people have actually grown up and lived under the direct domestic authority of a mother instead of a father. One common contextual reason for this is that men usually predecease their wives. Even if their wives die before them, it is also quite normal for men to remarry young women, but it is not so normal the other way around. In this case, there tends to be a large age gap between the remarried husband and his new wife; therefore, the possibility of a female-headed household also tends to be higher. This common marital practice in the past probably produced a crop of widows and even young widows who nurtured a considerable number of the Deng

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Table 4.2. Female-Headed Families in the Dengs in Da Shu Village. Headed by the 7 Widows

Total Number in Clan

Household

19 (49%)

39 (100%)

People

62 (47%)

131 (100%)

Source: Census data from fieldwork up to 2000 .

households under their care and education. Importantly, I was often told that their matriarchal authority in practice can extend to their children’s and even grandchildren’s households. For instance, they normally hold a central position in the occasional meetings and even decision-making power over the shared ancestral property and business amongst their children’s and grandchildren’s households. It is in reference to such a circumstance that I will use the term “female-headed family” as a name for a group of households that is under the authority of a mother with a close tie.10 As far as the observable current situation is concerned, there are seven femaleheaded families which in total possess nineteen households and sixty-two members under them (see table 4.2). On this subject, I will provide more analysis with specific individual cases in a later discussion. But, for now, it should be noted that there is one more immediate practical reason for the existence of women acting as substantial heads and even as power figures in the domestic arena. This has to do with the problem of a general poverty of men, as discussed previously. Zheng Axue is a married-in woman in the village aged forty. She married Deng Quiren sixteen years ago. She now has two daughters and one son, and lives with her old mother-in-law in an ancestral home. In the beginning, she had a notorious reputation for not keeping an orderly household and habitually going out and indulging in gambling. One of the senior village women recalled, She was an extremely bad wife. She seldom cooked for her children and frequently left all the work to her old mother-in-law. What she always did day-to-day was to play mahjong or cards. I once had tried to persuade her to spend more time on the household and give more care to her children. But she swore against me and said, “Bitch! Shut up! That is none of your business!”

A senior village man made the same comments: “Her behavior surely was no good at all. Whenever I saw her in the village, she concentrated upon

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gambling and loved all the games just as the men did. How could a woman behave like this! Her three children were very pitiable indeed!” Furthermore, there are indications that her old mother-in-law complained the most about Zheng Axue and at times exchanged words and blows with her regarding the domestic chores and looking after the children. She once said, “My son is useless! His wife is a typical lazybones. Needless to say, she fails to know how to serve the mother-in-law as other good daughters-in-law do for their mothers-in-law. She almost forgets where her household is.” Her husband, Deng Quiren, was deeply discontented with her behavior as well. But, interestingly enough, he recognized that he could hardly blame his wife as he obviously shared the same (mis)conduct with her: “Sometimes, my mother asked me to discipline my wife. To be frank, I also felt unpleasant: she is so lazy. But, how could I challenge my wife? I am so fucking fond of gambling too.” However, the villagers said that Deng Quiren had once beaten his wife, Zheng Axue, for her constant neglect of the children. Subsequently, Zheng Axue gradually changed her behavior, becoming more and more domesticated and concerned for her children. Currently, she has steadily earned some of her reputation back from the people in the community. During my interview with her, Zheng Axue was surprisingly frank and openly talked about this personal change in her. She described some of the specific tensions with her husband and mother-in-law that arose out of her disinclination to do household work. She also recalled some essential truths learned from others, which led her to acknowledge that she should give adequate care to her children. All in all, she asserted, “I gave them birth; I have to keep them good! That is why I quit my bad habits.” Most importantly, this individual case demonstrates the agents that work to confine women to the household. It indicates how both patriarchal and matriarchal powers in the household share the same interests to pressure women into domesticity. The disciplining instruments utilized by these two dominant household powers were not only the concurrent discursive forces but also direct physical forces. The actor-participants included not only the intimate household members but also the fellow villagers in the community. The most powerful discourse was that of motherhood, which caused Zheng Axue to reflect on her duties to her children, leading to a radical self-transformation of her behavior. More commonly, however, it is women’s hard labor and close attention to their household that give them some considerable standing. Through their long and direct involvement in the community, they have also developed a strong communal social network and a good understanding of the

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various useful practicalities of village life. A number of elder women have even established their substantial seniority and authority in the village. An obvious example is the old widow Liang Sanjie. She now lives alone in an ancestral house by the main entry and exit passage of the village. She also retired many years ago, and her present daily routine is simple and leisurely. In the community, she is a well-known senior woman held in high regard. Among people, she is widely appreciated as an impressive widow who, on her own, raised her son and sustained her old mother-in-law through her illness until she died a peaceful death. One of her close female peers sympathetically said, “Her life has been really miserable and could be said to be the worst of all of us. It is a life of tears indeed! But, if she was not in that household, I think her household would already have gone down.” In the general community life, she is a well-informed elder with a sociable and talkative personality. She knows numerous domestic stories, personal histories, interesting trivia, and momentous events both current and from the past. Her understanding of customary practices is particularly clear concerning ritual routines for the household and the various specific open ceremonies for the village at large. Whenever the fellow villagers are unclear on how to carry out particular rituals for their household, she is an authority on whom they have come to rely. Whenever there are special customary functions in the community, she is frequently the main figure taking charge of the events and informing people on the “dos” and “don’ts.” She has therefore directly influenced local activities and has generally become a good conversationalist and an essential informant concerning fellow females, the village leaders, and other men as well. Above all, the life story of Liang Sanjie explains the frequent rise of female-headed families in the community. The following is a close discussion of her personal and domestic career based on the direct materials from her own accounts. This discussion provides some empirical specificity of how men often withdraw from the domestic field while women become the pragmatic managers of all household business and even the shared lineage affairs in the village. Furthermore, her accounts also review an example of the patriarchal domestic practice of arranging a woman in matrimony to a man. This is the old marriage institution of the “child bride” by which a household purchases a little girl and raises her to become their son’s wife in order to meet the household’s need of continuing the next generation’s succession line.11 Her discussion reveals how a child bride managed to rise out of her lifelong vulnerability and, by implication, how women, invisible and inaudible in general, are able to deal with these disadvantageous situations. According to Liang Sanjie, she came from a well-to-do household in Macau, a Portuguese enclave in the southern part of China close to Hong

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Kong. Her father was an owner of a profitable cake shop. She was an object of envy in her household because she was the most beloved child of her father among the four siblings. Then her father died accidentally from an injury. Her well-off childhood protected by her father’s fondness was abruptly cut short. The affluent lifestyle of her whole household collapsed as a consequence of her father’s death. Worse still, her existence in her natal household was increasingly uncertain. Her mother held a deep aversion against her and mistreated her with frequent scolding and forceful beatings, Since my father died, I became very miserable. Looking back, I still wonder how I could get by from moment to moment. At that time, my mother believed that the cause of my father’s death was me; I had once crossed a “sword” [a toy] in a play with my father before he really died. Actually, it was a fake. I also failed to know that my father would die in the same year. How could my mother blame me! I also didn’t want my father to die! But, she really hated me to the core and took me as the god-damned devil in the household. Almost everyday, I was scolded and beaten by her. Sometimes, when she was angry, she even would suddenly throw whatever thing was at hand against me.

Finally, her mother decided to sell Liang Sanjie as a child bride for HK$200 when she was only fourteen years old. Liang Sanjie thus was passed to her present household in Da Shu village. Her conjugal household then was extremely simple and poor. From the time that she started living in that household, she needed to follow the bidding of her mother-in-law, who was an old widow, and to cultivate the farm and raise the livestock. Besides her old mother-in-law, she only had her husband-to-be, who was the sole son in the household. He worked as a sailor, which constantly kept him away for long periods. He stayed at home for only short spells of time. He was also about ten years older than her, and their arranged union did not take real effect until she had been settled in the village for about two years. Afterwards, she gradually became used to the village environment and eventually had a son with her husband. This completely changed her status in the village, as she recalled: When I just lived in the village, I was truly unused to the peasant living. Before that, what I used to eat was all nice food. I also had servants at home. I seldom walked without shoes. If I didn’t have shoes, I would always fail to walk. But, in the village, I needed to work with my mother-in-law and learned to farm in the field. When I took my first

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step onto the soil on my bare feet, I really wanted to die and felt my life was terrifically unbearable. But, it was not long before I familiarized myself with the crop cultivation and became a quick paddy planter in the field. Later on, I also had my son. When he was a baby, he was very lovely indeed. His appearance looked very like me. He was lovely, fatty, and his skin was very white. When I embraced him in my arms, he always had numerous lovely expressions or moves, which were really great. My mother-inlaw also felt very happy as she eventually became a grandma.

However, Liang Sanjie pointed out that she was completely unaware that her husband in fact was an adulterer. He had been keeping a woman secretly before his mother had arranged a wife for him. Liang Sanjie’s union with him lasted for merely five years, as her husband eventually ran away with his secret woman. In effect, she entered widowhood for the rest of her life. Perhaps, this world is fixed! Everything is fixed! Sometimes, I really felt very sad about myself. As a daughter, my mother hated me. As a daughter-in-law, my husband betrayed me. I still remember that it was on an afternoon when my husband strangely asked me whether I would allow him to bring a concubine back. At that time, I simply felt that he was joking. So, I casually said, “Fine.” But, later, he really brought a woman back to live with us. What’s more, he explained that he actually had been having this woman before he had me. He really loved her. He hoped to let his mother and me know about her for a long time, but he was afraid that we would not like her, so on and so on. I only felt very sad at that time and failed to know what I should do. To begin with, this woman seemed very nice. She would help me to do this or that, and look after my son as well. But, by the end of the day, my husband secretly planned with her to run away. I began to live on my own.

In addition, Liang Sanjie mentioned that her mother-in-law felt shocked about her son’s betrayal, too. Her mother-in-law also internalized a deep sense of guilt for her and at times expressed a considerate acceptance if Laing Sanjie decided to leave the household. Accordingly, Liang Sanjie had thought of leaving the household, too. But, reflecting upon the innocence of her son and the needy situation of her old mother-in-law, she eventually decided to stay in the household. She explained,

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Gender and Community under British Colonialism Yes, I should have run away, no reason for doing otherwise! My mother-in-law also felt it was hard for me to stay in this home. She even said that a fish, no matter how good, could not be sustained in a pond without water! She would accept my leaving. But, every time, I imagined how unbearable it will be to my mother-in-law if I run away. She is so aged, and my son is so innocent, I would soften up and could not be as heartless as my husband. In fact, that I could stand through my past hardship was thanks to my mother-in-law. She really was a good person and treated me well.

To keep the household and raise the little son left from the adulterous husband, Liang Sanjie said that she engaged in various laboring occupations and took up many sidelines and part-time jobs in her past. She even held three jobs at the same time for a long period before she eventually worked as a street cleaner and obtained a stable income from this up to her retirement. Her old mother-in-law also needed to help her in maintaining the household living throughout her lifetime. Sadly, by her own account, she had once again suffered from a sense of domestic incompleteness and maintained an empty household with an unfinished personal dream. Liang Sanjie recalled that when her only son grew up and started to plan his career, Liang Sanjie realized that he longed for an opportunity to see the outside world. In 1964, he achieved his ambition as he eventually followed his uncle to work abroad in Britain. At first, she felt it was an excellent opportunity for her son because, as a man, he should not have to stick in the village like her for life and should have wider horizons. But, she totally failed to anticipate that her son would turn out to love the foreign world so much instead of the village home. Whenever she called her son on the phone asking him to come back, he always emphasized the business of his work there. Worse, he gained his own household in Britain and, unusually, had two English wives with three children under one roof. But, none of his household members could speak Chinese with her. They also never came to the village to visit her. She stressed, Yes, I could say: I now have my own daughter-in-law, not only one but rather two, and three grandchildren. As I know, the youngest one has almost finished his secondary education. Happy? I should be so. But, indeed, I never see them or hug them. I always live on my own within these four walls. No one to talk to! No one to share my feelings. Sometimes, when my son phones me, he did ask his wives and children to talk with me. But, it is meaningless! I know nothing about what they

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are saying. Having talk or having no talk is one and the same. OK! Let it be. My son loves them. He should have his own world. All that I could hope now is that he would take his children to see me with his wives before I pass away. One summer, he truly promised me to do so. I of course was delighted up to the sky. He also asked me to clean up the house because the Westerner is extremely sanitary. So, I really worked to clean up everything in the expectation of their visiting. What’s more, I worked to fix an air-con unit at home as some people told me that the Westerner hates the heat too. . . . But, by the end of the day, my son suddenly phoned me again. He said that he had had a big quarrel with his wives. He failed to bring his wives and children to see me. I immediately could not hold myself but cried and cried. He also cried and said sorry and he was unfilial again and again. After that, I seldom ask him again for taking them to see me. It is so unhappy!

Liang Sanjie has now been separated from her sole son for over thirty-five years. She feels it is increasingly improbable that there will be a household reunion in her remaining lifetime. Despite the fact that her son has come back on his own three times, he has never stopped for long and has shown no interest in living in his home village. On his last visit, Liang Sanjie recalled that he mainly returned to sell his dingquan (official allowance to build a small house) to a property developer. Throughout his long settlement abroad, he also simply left both household and communal ancestral landed business and other ritual affairs to her care. She has therefore frequently acted on his behalf. For example, she regularly joined the lineage meetings in the village. The people in the village also used to deal directly with her when they needed to discuss their common lineage matters. In her household, Liang Sanjie told me that she undertakes all the routines for the household property, which includes her present simple and old-fashioned residence, and another single-storied stone house in the village with two to three little farm plots. The rent she obtains from them is the source of her living, in addition to her personal retirement fund of about HK$3,000 per month. However, Liang Sanjie emphasized that her living expenses were few. She normally banked most regular rental earnings from the household property and the other occasional benefits from the clan. Recently, she prepared her will and has been working to change the official entitlement of the household property into her son’s name, and she stated,

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Gender and Community under British Colonialism In fact, I never blame my son. I also don’t like him to blame himself as an “unfilial son,” for no matter filial or not, he is my son. The difficulty is only because he is living so far away and that he has been for so many years. But, I cannot help privately feeling sad about this old house where I live. See! I keep it so well. In fact, it should be kept and kept from generation to generation. I have also changed the entitlement of it to my son’s from mine recently, as it is sure that I cannot take this with me into the coffin. But, I know, clearly know, my son has no interest in living here again. He will sell this old house as soon as I pass away. It is a real pity.

CONCLUSION The ethnographic accounts of the practical conduct of both men and women presented in this chapter show that the extreme patriarchal values and institutions, which constitute their overall communal order, as discussed in the last chapter, do not reflect the actual practices of living. Conceptually, these patriarchal values and institutions represent Deniz Kandiyoti described as the “classic patriarchy”—the close interplay of patriliny, patrilocality, and patria potestas in their most rigorous fashions.12 However, there are indications from these vignettes of village life that the continuity of household and that of the immediately living community at large must depend on the mutual supports between the two sexes and their various substantial contributions beyond the patriarchal order. In reality, the patriarchal order also is not possible except as an ideology. Even if the ideology affects household lives, it can seldom be applied wholesale to suit the ever-present domestic contingencies and complexities. On the contrary, its constitutional adherence to patrilineal and paternal rule as indicated by the people’s life stories discussed in this chapter frequently imposes unbearable burdens upon both men and women in the creation of their deep depression or even lifelong distortion. Although patriarchy as a sexist system of domination by definition enables the male authority in their family and society at large, the important issue to point out here nevertheless is not how a man as a patriarch wields his imagined domestic privilege and power. Instead, it is how a man as a person fails to achieve the basic ideas and anticipations of the prevailing patrilineal and patriarchal discourse around him. In the practical circumstance, the fundamental operation of patriarchy at the ground level can even entirely fall onto women on behalf of the official patriarch. Women are transitory and invisible members of the official patrilineal and patriarchal constitution, but they have their own domestic dynamics

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and influential communal positions on the ground. They are the essential agents in the substantial continuity of the household and community with their various unremarked subject-effects in the creation and re-creation of social reality in their own right. This important sex-specific aspect in the practice of Chinese village people in their domestic and communal life will be discussed in the next chapter.

Chapter Five

The Story of Village Women

By focusing on the women in Da Shu village and their subtle but significant domestic politics, this chapter argues that village women are active agents in frequently reclaiming aspects of their personal autonomy and developing their social and political capital within the village and its surrounding area. This chapter concludes by discussing the reflexivity of village women and their transgressions against the hegemonic patrilineal and patriarchal colonial discourses and institutions. The general objective of this discussion is to show that women’s domestic existence is never a wholly domesticated one but rather contains elements of radical self-articulation and subversive actions. To borrow a more precise notion from feminist discourse, there is much “patriarchal bargaining,” that is, women’s engagements with the sexist circumstances under patriarchy in the creation of their own strategies.1

FEMALE ACTION REPERTOIRES AND WOMEN’S COMMUNITY For most of their daily life, village women are occupied by domestic routines such as cooking, cleaning, sweeping, washing, keeping the household, serving their husband, nursing their children, and looking after the elderly. In addition, men commonly leave the necessary but routine management of the domestic ancestral religious and landed business to women. Many village women therefore have to undertake additional household tasks including day-to-day ancestral worship, customary ceremonies for ancestors with special sacrifices during large festivals, regular collection of rent from tenants, and other occasional miscellaneous work for the ancestral property (e.g., passing on information, delivering rent bills and receipts, and banking and keeping accounts). Huang Jieying, a middle-aged woman about forty-five years old, told me during an interview that she is one of the few full-time mothers in the 105

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village. She lives in a well-to-do household and dwells in an elaborate, threestoried, Spanish-style house with a spacious and well-planted garden opposite the village entrance. Her husband runs a canteen in a newly developed town. In his normal daily schedule, he travels to work in the early morning and returns home late at night. In these circumstances, Huang Jieying does almost all of the daily tasks of looking after her three daughters on her own. She also usually needs to see to the regular ancestral business for her household. Table 5.1 is an overall list that specifies her usual household tasks “in a day of her life,” according to her perception. As a point of reference for the understanding of Chinese women, this list highlights some typical features of how women’s daily existence is absorbed into domestic business. Table 5.1. A Full-Time Housewife’s Daily Domestic Routines in Da Shu Village Morning

1. Preparing breakfast for her daughters or taking them to have breakfast outside 2. Taking her two little daughters to their primary school* 3. Visiting the marketplace, buying daily provisions and other household necessities 4. Returning home and undertaking chores (e.g., sweeping, cleaning, ironing, tidying up the household effects, feeding the pets [i.e., a dog and two tanks of goldfish], and cutting grass or gardening)

Noon

5. Going to see her two little daughters after school 6. Bringing her two little daughters to have lunch outside or making lunch for them at home 7. Guiding and helping her two little daughters to do homework and studying 8. Playing with her daughters at home or bringing them out of home to play with other village children 9. Presenting incense and worshipping the ancestral altar 10. Undertaking the usual management of the family property (e.g., meeting with tenants, collecting and banking rent, and keeping the accounts and records)

Evening

11. Cooking dinner and washing the utensils after dinner 12. Tidying up the kitchen and clearing the daily rubbish 13. Washing clothes and hanging out the washing on the roof 14. Taking rest and watching television programs 15. Making tea and refreshments for her returned husband 16. End of a day of her usual household life and going to sleep

*Huang Jieying’s eldest daughter is a lower secondary school student and is fifteen. She usually starts her day and goes to school on her own.

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Nevertheless, being absorbed in the day-to-day household duties does not necessarily mean that the women in Da Shu village are all temporally and spatially confined in their household unit. On the contrary, they have a network of relationships extending beyond the village. They have established close interpersonal relationships with one another and maintain their various private gatherings as well as a public community life. The most common practices are to maintain frequent meetings and face-to-face interactions by doing their domestic activities collectively, taking rests and enjoying the cool air, and having their everyday pastimes and occasional entertainments. In their daily rounds, they gather in twos or threes, casually chatting as they regularly go in and out of the village, shopping in the market town and conducting other matters of everyday business. During their leisure time and holidays, they like to play mahjong at someone’s home, go window-shopping or bargain hunting in a department store, drink in a teahouse, eat in a restaurant, or sometimes have a short shopping tour to the city. Throughout their intensive social intercourse, they frequently engage in various reciprocal practices and mutual assistance among themselves such as buying one another drinks or food, helping one another to see their children to school or home, and giving one another their free labor to nurse the children or undertake other domestic business. The most remarkable of the collective activities of women in Da Shu village is their regular open meetings almost every afternoon at the gateway of the village. On such occasions, many young and old village women casually approach each other, leisurely sit on the public benches, and intensively indulge in chatting and joking over endless topics as well as happily sharing fruit, drinks, or snacks, sometimes in small groups, sometime in one large party. In these gatherings, the village women bring the children out of the house and let them meet and play with each other. Sometimes, some village men will join in and chat for a while as they casually walk by or when they feel bored at home, but they are rarely constant participants. The daily activity and collective mothering usually last for the whole afternoon until the women need to return to their homes at dusk and prepare the housing meal in their smoky kitchens. This activity constitutes an important aspect of womanhood and childhood in the village. It creates a common level of village communication transcending age, generation, class, and sex. At a cultural level, these day-to-day action repertoires of village women are their principal ways of raising themselves out of the monotonous routine of domestic business. To borrow the theoretical term from Michel de Certeau, these village women possess subtle, poetic, and artful “tactics” to poach time and space, to crosscut the dominant order superimposed upon

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them, and to gain small victories as well as joyful discoveries.2 At a social level, these day-to-day action repertoires of village women are essential practices in order to maintain connections, social circles, interpersonal exchanges, and mutual exchanges of help. To adopt the heuristic insight from Margery Wolf, they create their own women’s community within but also beyond the predominant patriarchal rule in the rural Chinese universe.3 Above and beyond these two levels, these day-to-day action repertoires of village women are the main source of their domestic political strength and bargaining powers.

FEMALE AGENCY AND DOMESTIC DISPUTES Village women do not simply group together for company in doing their domestic duties or to burn up unoccupied time in the daily routine. They bring to such meetings domestic issues and collectively discuss them during their frequent daily gatherings and social interactions. Issues such as their personal troubles in their household, child care concerns, tensions, and even unhappy quarrels with their household members are discussed. Sometimes, they want to share their feelings with their peers and seek advice or ideas from the senior women who are recognized for their wide experience and wisdom. At other times, issues are explicitly aired as a means of extending their domestic disputes and involving other parties, and in these cases they may be seeking external backing or communal arbitration. For instance, I was told that conflicts between mothers-in-law and daughters-in-law are typical cases of domestic dispute. The last chapter referred to an example of this kind of conflict in Da Shu village, namely, the vexing domestic relationship between the old widow Quan Daijin and her daughter-in-law Zheng Axue. Both Quan Daijin and Zheng Axue often expressed their grievances and denounced each other to their village fellows. When they occasionally ran into each other in the regular daily gatherings at the gateway of the village, they would engage in public confrontation, talking in deliberately loud voices, making use of some trivial issues to hold against each other, or simply keeping at a distance from each other and being generally unfriendly. As their feud escalated, many village women continuously mediated between Quan Daijin and Zheng Axue in an effort to improve the relationship between them. On some occasions, when Quan Daijin and Zheng Axue lost their tempers entirely and the quarrels broke out in public, their peers acted as peacemakers to separate them and calm them down. In addition to this direct intervention, their peers had privately approached Deng Quiren and asked him to deal with the intensifying domestic dispute between his

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mother, Quan Daijin, and his wife, Zheng Axue. But, when Deng Quiren eventually began to beat Zheng Axue, they promptly and collectively criticized him for his use of violence. In casual gossip, Deng Quiren achieved wide notoriety for being a “bad man” for a long time. This case clearly shows that Chinese village women have intricate relationships and dynamics in the local community. They make their voices heard, have influence, and shape other views. They even engage in overt and covert political actions against men and/or other women throughout their daily talk, ordinary occasions, and social intercourse. Importantly, the presence of this female agency in the village is not just of relevance to domestic disputes. Village women are not simply concerned with household matters or private issues. They also are important agents frequently affecting public affairs and decision-making processes which ostensibly are the exclusive preserve of men.

FEMALE AGENCY AND COMMUNAL AFFAIRS The Dengs in Da Shu village, as mentioned in chapter 3, have their own institutions that deal with internal public issues in their community. They organize communal meetings that are held in their ancestral hall, and formal decisions are taken through open voting. At first sight, their internal communal meetings, which are nested into a systematic patrilineal and patriarchal hierarchy, help to reproduce a typical paternal political and jurisdictional structure. However, this exclusively male constitution is seldom completely realized in their internal communal political arrangements and practice. The extreme male-only participatory rule, which normally exists in their supravillage meetings for the whole clan in Fu Mei Au, is rarely adhered to in their intravillage meetings. For instance, the powerful Mu De Tang in Da Shu village consists of twenty households. The normal attendees in their internal communal meeting should be the twenty male household heads according to their institutionalized patriarchal rule. But, the people in Mu De Tang are not a static social group. Of the twenty households in Mu De Tang, ten have migrated and have lived abroad for many years. Even though most of them maintain some occasional connections with their home village, it is inevitable that frequently they cannot attend the regular communal meetings.4 In two of these ten households, there are old women who still live in the village and who act on their behalf and participate in the meetings and other public activities. As for the ten households of Mu De Tang that are localized within the village, all but two of them have males who regularly participate in the meetings. In two cases, it is not the normal male household head who attends the meetings but

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20

12

Attendants in communal meeting 20 10 2 (20P) (8P + 2M) (2M) Attendants in communal meeting by sex 20 10 (localized) 10 (abroad) Households in Mu De Tang Number: Amount in normal context. Italicized Number: Amount in practical context. P: Patriarch. M: Matriarch.

Figure 5.1. The Constitution of Mu De Tang’s Communal Meeting.

instead the female household head. In one case, the patriarch is not living in the village, while in another case the patriarch is Huang Jieying’s husband, whose business often prevents him from attending the meetings. Taking these variations collectively, the number of households in their actual communal meeting frequently is twelve (the ten localized households plus the two households represented by old women on behalf of their migrated sons). The actual proceedings of their communal meeting also usually include four unofficial but direct female participants (the above two plus the other two on behalf of their husband who is unavailable for the meetings) (see figure 5.1). Despite the fact that the households should be represented by the males in terms of the official paternal rule, in practice women can become representatives for the sake of expedience. The normal communal meetings concerning affairs of internal jurisdiction are not the only domains for women to discuss shared issues. Informal and unstructured exchanges create an alternative forum, and frequently substantial public actions are taken prior to official communal discussion and resolution, such as collecting information, lobbying meeting members, making preliminary proposals, and engaging in debates and even decisions in advance. From 1997 to 2000, the people of Mu De Tang in the village sold a considerable portion of their collectively owned land. This communal decision is a good example for detailed illustration.

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One of the silis (managers) in Mu De Tang during that period was their fellow kinsman Deng Quiyi. Through his introduction and mediations between the two parties, his lineage decided to sell a piece of communal land in their shared ancestral estate to a large private property developer. The size of this communal land was over 100,000 square feet, and the market price per square foot was HK$400. The total proceeds that Mu De Tang could earn from this sale was in the vicinity of HK$40,000,000. On the occasion, the sale of collective land captured all the Mu De Tang’s people’s attention and became a topic in numerous face-to-face discussions, and deep happiness and strong expectations were expressed in these exchanges. When Deng Quiyi in mid-1997 represented their lineage at a formal agreement and accepted a $4,000,000 deposit from this developer, a special communal meeting was called to discuss the proceeds from this sale. Consequently, they decided to save up to $10,000,000 (one fourth of the proceeds) for the future development of their lineage. They also had a concrete proposal to build four houses with twelve units for renting out on the empty communal land next to their ancestral hall in the village, thereby obtaining long-term earnings for their lineage.5 Above all, they planned to share the remaining $30,000,000 (three fourths of the proceeds) among themselves by agnatic branch. This sale of collective land by and large was an unprecedented event in their lineage. It would also bring a considerable amount of economic income of around $1,000,000 to $2,000,000 to most of their existing agnatic branches (see figure 5.2). This collective land sale was not a smooth process and caused an outbreak of internal hostility and struggles amongst the people of the Mu De Tang. In late 1997, according to the lineage, the private developer suddenly attempted to cancel this deal with them and required the deposit back from them at the same time that the general property market of Hong Kong abruptly and critically declined. This private developer had a strong case for breach of agreement, because of his discovery of an official mistake in the Block Crown Lease—the earliest official land record of the New Territories, produced in 1905.6 Specifically, the Block Crown Lease contains two integral attachments to the general deed for clarification of the leasehold. The first one is a descriptive cadastral list that records the lot number, the area, the usage, the lessee’s name and address, the terms of lease in years, and the crown rent of each land. The second one is a geographical cadastral map that in scale delineates the physical location, area, shape, and topography of each piece of land recorded in this cadastral list. However, I was told in the field that this earliest colonial land record as the highest official reference of land in the New Territories produced inconsistent data in the present case. The

$1,250 000 / 3 $0.4m $0.4m $0.4m

$1.25m

$2,500,000 / 2 $1,250,000 $1,250,000

$2,500,000 / 3 $0.8m $0.8m $0.8m

$2,500,000

$7,500,000 / 3 $2,500,000

$7,500,000

$2.5m

2

$7,500,000

$3,750,000 / 2 $1,875,000 $1,875,000

$7,500,000 / 2 $3,750,000 $3,750,000

$7,500,000

XXII (1859–1889)

XXI (1829–1859)

XX (1799–1829)

XIX (1769–1799)

XXVI (1979–)

XXV (1949–1979)

XXIII (1889–1919) $3,750,000 / 3 $3,750,000 / 2 $3.75m $1.8 $1.8m $0.9m $0.9m $1.8m $1.25m $1.25m $1.25m XXIV (1919–1949)

$7,500,000 / 2 $3,750,000 $3,750,000

$2,500,000

$40,000,000 / 4

The three-fourths profit from the selling of his landed inheritance during 1997–2000 XVIII (1739–1769)

XVII (1709–1739)

XVI (1679)

Level of Generation

Note: All figures in Hong Kong dollars. The distribution of communal goods to the branches is not done by simple equal shares of the profit among the existing smaller branches. The Mu De Tang would first equally distribute its communal goods among the four capital branches—or, in their own term, the Four Families—in their clan. The existing smaller branches within these four capital branches would then internally distribute their own shares into smaller equal shares in accordance with the number of their agnatic branch at each point of the patrilineal segmentation. This figure illustrates this practice by showing how the Mu De Tang would hypothetically share the communal profit from the prospective sale of collective land during the period from 1997 to 2000.

$7,500,000 / 3 $2.5m $2.5m $2.5m

m: million $7,500,000

Figure 5.2: The Distribution of Communal Goods in Mu De Tang

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area of the Mu De Tang’s ancestral land to be sold shown in the descriptive cadastral list is smaller than that shown in the geographical cadastral map by about 67,000 square feet.7 This discrepancy in the documents created uncertainty in the validity of the Mu De Tang’s people’s collective ownership of this ancestral land. In private discussions with them, the developer told them that he could help them to fix the official problem if the price per square foot was reduced to $320 (i.e., reduced by 20 percent). The Mu De Tang angrily but urgently called for special communal meetings in their ancestral hall to examine the whole issue. Many other village women who held no position kept their eyes on what was going on. In their various daily interactions and social intercourses, they continued to ask the men and other male or female fellows for news. They also exchanged information and engaged in intensive discussions about all the twists in this case. Both men and women in the Mu De Tang, formally or informally, came to argue over a key question of the event: whether their lineage should accept the developer’s requirement for a lower selling price or demand the developer to fulfill the original agreement by taking legal action. Deng Quiyi quickly and openly suggested accepting the developer’s conditions so as to avoid any other unexpected twists and get the deal done as soon as possible. Immediately, a rumor against him rapidly and widely spread in the community. His village fellows, women in particular, incessantly discussed this rumor that said that Deng Quiyi had a private and personal arrangement with the developer. He was compromising with this developer in order to cheat them and corrupt their ancestral estate. Obviously, Deng Quiyi became aware of this rumor against him. He then started to appear in the women’s regular daily gathering at the gateway of the village. He utilized these occasions to clarify his position and, above all, to persuade the women over to his side. The four existing special female representatives in the communal meeting were the key persons whom he talked to most of all. Despite the fact that Deng Quiyi reacted swiftly and sensitively to the situation, my investigation into the feedback from the rest of the village shows that Deng Quiyi still did not manage to forestall the spread of numerous disagreements with him from both the men and women in the lineage. They also felt it was difficult to make a decision regarding this unexpected obstacle in the sale of land. Even his elder brother, Deng Quiren, blamed him and once said, I really fail to know what the hell my stupid younger brother is doing for us! How come he could introduce such a fucker [the developer] to

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Gender and Community under British Colonialism us? Now we are really in their fucking play. To bring a suit against him, we may not win but huge money must be used. And, we don’t know what they will do next. They are so rich. Not to bring a suit against him, we will immediately lose eight million for sure. What do we do? I really don’t know what to do.

At the same time, many women not only openly expressed similar views but also generally held a rather firm position on the case, namely, that their lineage should take legal action against the developer because his behavior indicated that he wanted to trap them. In a casual collective discussion, one of them even emphasized that: “Absolutely, no reason otherwise! He [the developer] obviously cheated us. How come we are so easy to be cheated! Eight million is not a little amount. We must bring a suit, no matter what!” On many other occasions, they had private conversations with the four special female representatives supporting their case for challenging Deng Quiyi’s suggestion. They also called on one another to ask their men to vote in the communal meeting for taking legal action against the developer. I could not find out how these women privately persuaded their men and what the actual results of their domestic talks were or whether they actually did this. But, the observable first consequence was that the Mu De Tang’s people then made a formal communal decision to take a suit against the developer. Deng Quiyi as their sili was appointed to work for this collective legal action. He therefore hired a lawyer for professional advice and was engaged in checking up on all information and documents related to this case for a long time. He surely must have felt deeply disappointed and discontented about this communal decision. In private, he would complain that “the long hair” [women] created this problem and had brought him nothing but trouble. It is hard to say which side eventually won or lost in this internal communal dispute of the Mu De Tang’s people. When I carried out a follow-up visit to the field in 2001 (two years after its commencement), both the men and the women had changed their minds and accepted, through a private settlement, the developer’s requirement for a reduction in the dealing price. Their most cited reason was that they found legal action to be inadequate in the fight with this developer for the original price.8 Deng Quiyi recently expressed, “To begin with, I have already seen through that it was fucking useless to take a suit against him [the developer]. Rather, we must depend on him to give us the money. There is no room for argument!” A woman in the lineage retrospectively explained, He [developer] indeed wanted a lower price. What he said about that problem [the official mistake] simply was a pretext. We also had had a

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suit against him for years. But, the selling was totally held up. It made one very annoyed indeed! And, if we don’t sell that ancestral land to him, we would also fail to have another buyer.9

The lesson from this case is that the exclusion of village women from the public sphere is not absolute. Rather, the fact is that village women have invested their interests and influences in village life. They are able to open alternative forums and to have their own communal discussions. The scope of their active agency goes beyond their immediate community and extends to the colonial state. Now I move on to discuss this important female riposte and practice in the village.

FEMALE REFLEXIVITY AND THE COLONIAL STATE Throughout my ethnographic investigations into the community of Da Shu village, I frequently found that the women, in many contexts, applied reflexivity to articulate themselves; they were not a passive group. In particular, they actively voiced their reality and articulated their own gender-specific critiques of institutionalized sexism in their community. For example, Liang Sanjie, Bozhangliang, and three other village women once casually but sensitively discussed why they, as women, could not join the clan activities in the general ancestral hall in Fu Mei Au at the top of Da Shu village. In this discussion, Bozhongliang was uncomfortable in expressing her emotions. At first, she hesitantly spoke for the existing patriarchal norm on the grounds of tradition: “It is a male place, after all. Won’t it seem good for us to appear there? That is against the customary practice, against the customary practice. . . . I do feel: it is not so appropriate somehow.” But, Liang Sanjie reflected upon the case by applying the modern principle of gender equality to this case. She adopted her own interpretation to articulate the equal importance of men and women by a metaphorical analogy of the “wind” and “rain” in the creation of the natural world. She drew on a fundamental reality of the village as a direct reference to substantiate her point: Oh! No! What is the age we are in now? The people talk about gender equality. Women and men are the same. Indeed, this kind of old practice really should be changed. It is absolutely unreasonable. Just like this world, it must have both “wind” and “rain” to make things growing and keep things growing. Without their interplay, this world will not be all right! In fact, one will also never see a village which only has men without women.

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Likewise, the women in Da Shu village frequently reflected sensitively upon many other specific events or past histories in their immediate community. For example, it has been noted that Deng Baocai is the wealthiest man in the village. His village fellows estimated that he held a household fortune of about HK$30 to 40 million with a number of profitable landed properties from his ancestral inheritance. Nevertheless, the women in the village never took the existing paternal and patrilineal domestic order for granted. They challenged Deng Baocai’s enrichment by reflecting upon his peculiar beginnings in life, specifically his doubly mothered background. In their discussions of Deng Baocai, they recalled that he originally had a natural mother and a stepmother at the same time. His deceased natural mother had been a young widow as a consequence of her husband’s early demise during the Japanese War. From the time that Deng Baocai was eight years old, she had sustained the whole household on her own, which contained not just him but also two younger children. These struggles were too much to bear, and finally the household disintegrated. She was forced to sell young Deng Baocai to another Deng household because of extreme poverty, and since that other Deng household was the most propertied and well-to-do household in the village, he grew up in an affluent environment. Nevertheless, this household was unusual in that it contained an old couple and a husbandless child bride as this old couple’s daughter-in-law. The story was that this old couple’s only son had died when he was ten, before he could complete his real marriage with the child bride bought by the old couple for him. However, I was told that this child bride was still formally “married” with her deceased husband-to-be as she had had a “ghost marriage” in accordance with an infrequent custom in the past. Under her parents-in-law’s arrangement, she had gone through a wedding ceremony with the soul of her deceased husband-to-be, which was represented by a cock in the proceeding. She had become his official wife in the formal sense, and as a rule had to keep widowhood for life. In any case, this child bride eventually committed adultery after both her parents-inlaw passed away. She had to run away, which inevitably left Deng Baocai (her fictive son) at home alone when he was about nineteen. Deng Baocai became the only remaining member in his stephousehold. He gradually came to address his natural mother as “mother” again but remained living in the house of his stephousehold. Taking these intricate past stories collectively and relating them to his present status, the women in Da Shu village maintained that Deng Baocai was wealthy only because of his natural and stepmother’s sacrifices and that it was through them that he had received the household estates and properties.10 Even in the case of his stepmother (the escaped child bride), she never

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corrupted her household’s wealth but instead fulfilled her duties. Both of them were more than good to him. But on his part, he simply claimed to be the richest man in the village and took the (double) advantages given to him from his two mothers. He never compensated for his natural mother’s lifelong labor of raising him up above his station. In a casual conversation, women in the village once again discussed Deng Baocai and readdressed the “appropriate” gendered context to his present enrichment in terms of their own theme: Liao Yindi firstly said, Yes, he is rich! And, what the hell, he is the richest. But, if it was not that Yujiao [Deng Baocai’s stepmother] never ran away with the things [family estate] but passed them to him, that makes him have his goodtime now.

Liang Sanjie added, To be fair, though Yujiao ran away with a big belly, she still did something good. At least, she is not greedy. In fact, her deceased parents-inlaw also should not blame her. She became a widow so early. Right! Do you know if Baocai keeps seeing her or not?

Liao Yindi and other two women, Liao Jinzhi and Deng Amei, all showed that they were unsure. Then, Deng Amei turned to say, But, it is unfair to his real mother who labored so hard and always went to “clearing the wild grass on farmland” [a marginally paid agricultural job in the past] for bringing him up. See, what has his real mother got to live for in her lifetime? I really fail to know why she still would be so good giving all the property to him.

Deng Amei made a nonverbal emphasis on her argument by pointing in the direction of the crude house in which Deng Baocai’s real mother lived. These self-reflexive actions expressed their occasional arguments over the actual (gendered) meaning of a specific event or past histories in their village. They focused their concern on gender equality into very immediate and concrete forces to make and remake the social reality in their own right. Above and beyond the discursive level, village women call on their self-awareness to lead to their practices. They draw on their hard reflections to struggle for their betterment. The following case study is of the renewal project of a house in the village during 1999. It describes how the

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concerns of a village woman, confronted with the collapse of the patriarchal domestic order, became a matter of communal concern and a matter of reflection in the village. Not only her fellow females, but also her fellow males, worked together to help her, and they found it imperative to play down the domestic patriarchal power structure in order to come to her aid. Generally speaking, her transgression entails a silent war of a cultural right in living against the cultural right in law and substantially demonstrates that she acted thoughtfully and definitively in her own interests. Liao Jinzhi is a married-in woman in Da Shu village who is about sixtyfive years old. She is extremely weak and thin, with an unhealthy pallid face and a pair of hardly opened eyes. Her countenance is a sad consequence of an overlaborious life. In the community, her peculiar personality is an occasional topic of gossip. Although people commonly appreciate that she has a friendly character and a great readiness to help others, they also view her as a “singularly stupid woman.” Her overfrugal behavior, which includes reserving leftover food and consuming it for days and even weeks, makes them feel that she is rather unbelievable and ridiculous. In general, they view her as a typically conservative woman who unnecessarily disparages herself while looking up to her husband and son. One of her close peers said, It is absolutely hard to know what she thinks in her mind! Her mind also seems to be come from the Stone Age. What is the point for her to live so frugally? As I know, she had once eaten a little fish again and again for two weeks. It is absolutely terrible! In fact, she is not lacking money. But, she only knows to save up and keeps the best for her husband and son. Most recently, I even learned that she would feel sick and throw up if she has a little more food. It is ridiculous!

Her village fellows, both men and women, at times have attempted to persuade her to change her behavior. Once, a close female peer casually chatted with her about past events and hardships. She finally came to the point through a self-made idiom, “Things are made for using; the world is created for seeing,” and sincerely explained, “So, why don’t we enjoy life now? Wasn’t it tough enough when we were young?” Still, it is hard to find any indication that Liao Jinzhi has attempted to reform herself. The story is that Liao’s husband was the newly deceased kinsman, Deng Demeng, in the lineage and her son, the kinsman Deng Changhu, is notorious for his addiction to drugs and frequent involvement in crimes.11 When her husband suddenly died, she felt it too much of a shock. She sank into depression and would burst into tears again and again. Worse still, her son, Deng Changhu, during this critical moment was in prison. He would not be

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released until he had served eight more months of his sentence. Accordingly, many village women and men attempted to comfort her. They collectively helped her to organize her husband’s open funeral ceremony in the public square of the village. Still, Liao could not hold her emotions back. There were occasional sounds of her private weeping coming from her house. In the event, she also faced a dilemma on how to deal with her husband’s inheritance upon his sudden death. Her fellow villagers were aware of the matter and privately worried about what she would do. The specific items of her husband’s inheritance included the No. 8 house, No. 14 house, and No. 26 house in the village, with about HK$1.5 million in a bank account. Liao’s household only lived in the No. 14 house. Both the No. 8 house and No. 26 house were used for renting out, but the No. 8 house was currently vacant. Liao wanted to pass her husband’s inheritance to her son and let him manage it. Liao’s close female and male fellows hurried to talk to her when they learned of her intentions. Collectively, they stressed that she should immediately work to convey her husband’s inheritance into her name. A village woman warned her about the possible coming dangers from her first idea: To pass all the things to your son could be almost to throw all the things into the deep sea. If he corrupts them and finally sells them off, what would you do? I think you may even find you have no place to live or stand any more! Similar cases do happen and are not uncommon in real life: the son will turn his face on the parents once he gets the family property.

During various meetings, her close female and male fellows privately continued to discuss this matter with her and showed their deep concern for her, too. In a similar vein, another village woman made a further observation of her case: If she is still so soft in this time, I really wonder how could she get by in the days to come? As her husband has now passed away, her son surely becomes rather unconstrained at home. If he goes to beat her, how can she protect herself? You know, her son is a drug addict. When he needs money for drugs, he may really lose any sense.

A village man also sympathized with Liao’s situation and once said, Mengjin [the usual name for Liao in the village] really was very miserable! She now is so old and retired so long; she should really think about herself. To rely on her son, that is die-hard. He is so fucking bad.

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In order to help Liao, her village fellows exchanged their views and eventually worked out a plan for her. Namely, Liao should use the HK$1.5 million left from her deceased husband to rebuild the currently empty No. 8 house. Most importantly, she should carry out this renewal project without making an official application to the government and finish it before her son could return home. According to their collective discussions, this idea was a nest of stratagems. The first point was to use up her husband’s cash inheritance for a long-term domestic investment, thereby totally eliminating the possibility of her son’s corruption of the estate. The second point was to manipulate the governmental rule by making a benefit of the inalienability of property, as the government would never issue a letter of approval for the renewal of a unit that was established without advance official application. The lack of this official letter meant that this unit would not have a formal deed and would therefore be impossible to sell on the property market. Her son would be unable to sell the No. 8 house, even when Liao died and the household property would eventually be passed on to him. The final point was that Liao at least would always have a house to live in and earn rental income for her future support. It was evident that this plan was deeply bewildering to Liao and made her feel extremely anxious. She sought reassurance from the villagers and would ask them such questions as “Will my son like the renewal project?” “Should I first let my son know about this?” “How about if he does not like it?” “Should I leave it to my son to make the decision as he is the only man in the family now?” and so forth. No matter how many times the villagers pointed out the great advantage of this idea, she was ambivalent and kept repeating that she was very worried. Some of the villagers increasingly felt that to talk to her was to “play a lute to a cow,” while some other villagers became increasingly worried about her situation, which almost led to a major domestic crisis. There were many other twists in this episode before Liao’s sudden appearance in the forecourt of the No. 8 house one ordinary morning. Slowly but carefully, she silently worked with a heavy shovel and a heavy barrow to clear the fallen leaves there. Every movement in this task seemed to be barely manageable for her. But, she continued to collect the mess of fallen leaves. Bit by bit, she grouped them into little stacks; one by one, she disposed them into an old bamboo basket. Originally, this work was one of her usual domestic tasks, which her deceased husband had accorded her. This was, however, the last time that she would do this task as she had somehow come to terms with the decision that the No. 8 house had to be rebuilt.

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CONCLUSION It has long been argued that lacking a recognized status in the public sphere is an essential area of concern for women.12 My ethnographic discussion should already have shown how Chinese village women in the New Territories confront this critical circumstance. However, as some current studies have pointed out, the domestic sphere and the public sphere are intricately linked. Women in practice have interests in both.13 The present village case reveals that the domestic sphere as a hidden part of the fabric of the community contains in itself various remarkable female dynamics. It is there that Chinese women have their intensive discussions of and local politics against their household issues and even their communal affairs at large. In their usual practice, they also have their active agency to transcend their domestic being in the creation of their own social networks with their own public fora and communal life for and among themselves. The patriarchal exclusion of them from the official public sphere is far from complete. By operating as an acting household head in the name of their patriarch, some village women in the present village case obtain their immediate participation into the formal communal meetings and enter into the official decision-making terrain. Through their individual or collective contestations, subtle manipulations, and even fundamental subversions of the prevailing patriarchal order and rule, the rest of the village women in the present village case observe closely the official public sphere and are able to penetrate it with their views and influences. In these matters, the village realpolitik in the community practice indicates that men as the superior gender hold the formal authority in the public sphere by the prevailing patriarchal order and rule. Still, the substantial jurisdictional and political situation is that men have to confront this active female agency from the domestic sphere with their intensive oppositions and various overt or covert interplays. It happens even on the subject of ancestral land, which surely holds an important significance to the patriarchs and forms an essential material basis of their power. On the other hand, the Chinese women in the present village case have their own reflections upon the top-down patriarchal institutions authorized by the colonial rule with their own sensitive critiques or, in Gail Hershatter’s term, their “talking back” to the dominant force in the ramification of their inferior status.14 In their daily sayings and casual conversation, they are also similar to the description made by Croll for mainland Chinese women in that they draw on their life experience and self-perception to question the gender bias in the hegemonic discourse and maintain the order of things with their own interpretation in term of their own theme.15 Although the

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cultural notion of “Chinese tradition” has prevailed for so long in the New Territories, they have their dissents from it with their pertinent arguments. In this light, the case of Liao Jinzhi further reveals that it was even possible for this active female agency from the domestic sphere to subtly manipulate colonial rule for its own project outside the interests of the patriarch and thereby immediately create some fundamental ruptures and disruptions of the dominant patriarchal discourse and institutions during colonial rule. Thus, in the final analysis, a common invisibility did not mean that Chinese women were motionless and helpless without their self-empowerments. Their general inaudibility also never implies that they are voiceless and actionless, and without their influential subject-effects across the board. Chinese women frequently have various critical utterances and hard struggles with the dominant patriarchal and colonial rule or, rather, their actual or possible sociopolitical influence extracted from their immediate domestic practices. In the next chapter, I show how in a specific moment, the Chinese village women in the New Territories could even tremendously speak out against their critical domestic situation under the adverse patriarchal colonial order and develop into a large-scale women’s movement with extensive and intensive public concern in the general colonial history of Hong Kong.

Chapter Six

The Story of Deng Amei

Deng Amei is a short, small, elderly woman, over sixty years old, living in Da Shu village. She has been engaged in a protracted struggle with Ajin (her father’s brother’s wife) and other fellow participants for the inheritance right to her family estate. Her case even reached public attention in Hong Kong. Not only was it widely reported in the press, but the case was also generally taken up as a historical challenge to “Chinese tradition” as that emerged under the aegis of colonial indirect rule in the New Territories. In many ways, Deng Amei’s extraordinary personal struggle represents an exemplary case for our discussion of the critical existential situation of Chinese women in the New Territories under the colonial promotion of “Chinese tradition” by the policy of indirect rule. Her personal struggle not only comprehensively highlights how the multiple colonial and patriarchal impacts on the New Territories concurrently interplay with one village woman’s life, but also strikingly reveals the hard and real local processes in the creation of a general change at societal level for women’s rights in the recent history of the New Territories.1 This chapter presents a detailed description of her personal struggle in order to further a holistic analysis of the importance of gender in the unique colonial situation of the New Territories. How the radical sense and capacity of Chinese women, as Margery Wolf pointed out, are due precisely to the long and deep patriarchal suppression of them in their immediate household and community life will be discussed in detail.2 Unique as it may, the story of Deng Amei strikingly reveals the active agency of Chinese women in the making of the history of the New Territories at large. From Deng Amei’s own accounts, she was the elder of her parents’ two children. Her father was a fish hawker; her mother was a farm laborer. Her younger brother died when he was an infant, leaving her as the only child in the household. Her family was a simple and indigent household. She lived extremely simply and frugally: 123

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Gender and Community under British Colonialism In the past, we were very poor. I needed pants and I had no money to buy some. I had to make myself one with some old cloth. Each meal, we only had some simple food like pickled cabbage and dried turnip, which was made by my mother or me. Perhaps, we would eat the vegetable from our own cultivations. Sometimes, if there was some special cheap pork in the market, we would bring some back for our meal.3

From early childhood, she helped her mother to do daily chores in their home and in the cultivation of their farm. In addition, she occasionally worked as a cowherd to earn some pennies for the family. When she was twelve years old, she further worked as a miscellaneous worker in a construction site but still continued helping her mother to do various agricultural tasks. She deeply cherished her memories of working with her mother and said, In the daily rounds, my mother and I needed to wake up just after dawn and start to work in the farm. Since I started to work on the construction site, I was only able to help her up to 8 o’clock, as I had to go to work. But, every night, I continued to help my mother and worked with her to prepare the hogwash for our pigs, mill the grain, and do other chores. Day-to-day I would only have a short time for resting before I went to sleep.4

Also, she was proud of her hardiness and toughness, and added, But, we really were good at work. We could sow many paddies and make good yields. Annually, we could produce 3 piculs[5] in the first yield and 3 more piculs in the second yield. You see! This was how terrific my mother and I managed to work and how hard it was in our past. So far, I have not yet talked about of how we worked together to keep the two pigs and three cows in our home.6

In her reflections upon her past life, Deng Amei also discussed her marital life. She married her husband when she was about twenty years old, but unlike other village daughters she did not move out of the village after marriage. Subsequently, she had five daughters and one son with her husband. However, Deng Amei continued, her husband became a drug addict when most of their children were still in their teens. She eventually divorced him and decided to raise her six children on her own. Currently, her six children have not only grown up and finished their education, but have also developed their own careers and households outside the village. Deng Amei herself retired many years ago and became a grandmother of ten grandchildren.

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Deng Amei told me that her father suddenly passed away in old age in 1984. Her old and weak mother sadly became lonely and frequently felt deeply depressed. To keep her mother company and to take care of her health, she continued to visit her and look after her on a daily basis. She, in the meantime, asked her second daughter, Zhou Shaofen, to move into her mother’s home so as to ensure that her mother had adequate company and care. Notwithstanding these efforts, her mother passed away in 1987. Worse still, Deng Amei showed that not only did she suffer from the loss of her beloved mother, but also as a result of her death there arose an acrimonious property dispute that had to be dealt with immediately.

DENG AMEI’S LONG DISPUTE WITH AJIN According to Zhou Shaofen, on the day her grandmother died in hospital, Ajin as a close relative went with her mother, Deng Amei, and Zhou Shaofen to see her. But, on their return from the hospital, Ajin abruptly explained to her that since Deng Amei’s parents had no son, Ajin’s three sons would inherit the estate and this estate belonged to them in accordance with Chinese tradition and custom.7 The estate included their grandparents’ three ancestral houses and two farms. If Zhou Shaofen wished to continue staying in her grandparents’ home, she would have to pay rent to her three sons. On hearing this, Zhou Shaofen recalled that she could not control herself but angrily argued with Ajin, “How can you face my grandma? Ehh! You are so eager to drive me out and her body has not even been packed into the coffin!” Subsequently, she ignored Ajin’s claim and continued living in her grandparent’s home.8 Deng Amei indicated that this was not the first time Ajin had made such a claim over her parents’ estates. During her father’s lifetime, Ajin had time and again disturbed her family on this matter and had asked Deng Amei’s father to pass his family estates on to her three sons. Since her father’s demise, Ajin had started to pressure her mother and had openly claimed that Deng Amei’s father had adopted her three sons, thereby her sons were the rightful heirs of the family estates. But, Deng Amei countered this argument with the claim that her father had never adopted Ajin’s three sons. Rather, it was Ajin’s husband who had been adopted by another Deng family by guoji (figure 6.1). Ajin’s family worshipped another Deng family’s ancestor. Her three sons therefore should not be entitled to inherit the family estates: Yes, it is true! My deceased father was her deceased husband’s real brother. And, my father was the elder; her husband was the younger. They have the same father and grandfather. But, her deceased husband

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The Composition of Deng Amei’s Family from Deng Amei’s Version

(Adopted by another Deng’s family)

(Ajin)

(Deng Amei)

(Shaofen)

The Composition of Deng Amei’s Family from Ajin’s Version

(Ajin)

(Deng Amei) (Adopted by Deng Amei’s family)

(Shaofen) Key:

Deceased male

Adopted in

Deceased female

Living male

Adopted out

Living female

Figure 6.1. The Lineal Dispute between Deng Amei and Ajin

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was passed to another family by guoji. I could make this statement against the sun [vowing for the truth of her word]. I am not making a story here. So, how could her three sons come back to take our things [family estates]? They have already got another family’s things. The ancestral altar in their home was that of another family too. But, that woman [Ajin] makes whatever ridiculous story for herself. To take others’ things, she can now say: she had given my father her three sons by guoji. But, this is absolutely impossible! How would a person in this world give to another all his sons? Would they have no need to have a son to be the heir of their family at all? It is absolutely ridiculous!”9

However, Deng Amei continued, it was only about a month after her mother’s demise when Ajin hired a lawyer to act on behalf of her three sons, thereby officially and legally pressing their claim to inherit the family estates. In the village, Ajin continuously spread gossip claiming that Deng Amei had no real claim to her family estates, as she had no real blood relationship with her parents because she had been adopted: That woman [Ajin] is absolutely terrible! As if one story is not enough, she makes another one. She now keeps talking around in the village: I originally was an adopted child. What’s more, she added: I was actually taken as a servant girl to work in my parents’ home. Otherwise, the people would not usually call me as Meici; I would not be lacking a proper name but simply called as Amei!10 In a communal meeting, she even asked the people to sign a document to prove that my surname was not “Deng.” At first, I failed to know about this event. But, some people came to inform me: she did this in the ancestral hall. They said: some people truly signed this document for her while some people did not. You see! This is how terrible this woman is! So nasty! How can you privately change my surname? My Hong Kong Identity Card also clearly shows that my surname is “Deng.”11

Deng Amei claimed that Ajin had in private even mobilized a village leader to support her case requiring the tenant of her mother’s farmland to pay rent to her:

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Gender and Community under British Colonialism I helped my mother to collect the rent from her tenants all along. But, she [Ajin] secretly went to see our tenant shortly after my mother died. Once, I regularly went to collect the rent from our tenant. She [the tenant] suddenly told me that an old woman had reached her. This old woman told her that her three sons were the new owners of the land; she should pay the rent to her, so on and so on. Of course, this old woman must be her [Ajin]. To begin with, our tenant felt very puzzled. She refused to give me the rent. As far as I know, she did not pay any rent to her too. But, later, she [Ajin] found a village leader to help her and went with him to see our tenant again. So, how could our tenant understand what was going on? With the presence of the village leader, she also became afraid. By the end of the day, she paid no rent to me but rather to her.12

I must at this point introduce a general background of Ajin and, above all, discuss her stance in this dispute. Findings from my interviews with Ajin indicate that she is one of the more senior females in Da Shu village and is about fifteen years older than Deng Amei. In local kinship terms, she is a “married-in woman” (unlike Deng Amei, who is a married-out daughter) in the lineage. From the time that she married her husband (i.e., Deng Amei’s father’s only brother) at eighteen, she lived with him in the village and had three daughters and three sons with him. Her husband passed away many years ago. Her three daughters formed their own unions and moved to live with their husbands and their children a long time ago. Her three sons have migrated abroad and have established their own families in the Netherlands. But they have occasionally returned to the village to visit her and keep contact with their kinsmen and fellow villagers. They also continue their occasional participation in the communal lineage meetings and regularly obtain their shares of the produce from their shared ancestral estate. In the community, I was told that Ajin is notorious for her unfriendly character. For instance, one of her peers in the village once said, That Ajin is an absolutely snobbish woman. When she lived in our village and still was poor, there was nothing wrong at all. She would go with our sisters to work in the construction site and be chatting and joking with us. But, since her household became rich and she’s built new houses, she quickly turned her face and came to look down on us. Currently, if she likes, she will still talk with us. But, if we say

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something she doesn’t like, she will bluntly swear against you. She gives no respect to you at all!13

A similar discussion of her comes from an old village man: Originally, she was a beggar and occasionally came to our village for food. Her deceased parents-in-law sympathized with her. They kept her in their home and eventually arranged her for their second son. That is why when she married her husband, she could not enter our village with a red sedan [the formal rite de passage]. And, some gossipy women in the village may nastily call her piaolaicha [literally, driftwood, but conceptually a married-in woman with no formal rite de passage]. But her character is extremely selfish and quarrelsome. Even for a cent, she could argue with you for a day. Not a bit of favor she is willing to give another!14

Since I started ethnographic investigations in the community, many village women and men warned me that she was ill-tempered and that I should avoid asking her about her dispute with Deng Amei. Otherwise, it was highly probable that she would swear violently at me. The end result was truly the same as what the villagers warned me about. Even though I eventually managed to talk on various other matters with her during my fieldwork period, including her household background as I have shown above, I still found no way to directly interview Ajin for her side of the story. Nevertheless, the stance taken by Ajin in her dispute with Deng Amei is not totally unobservable. As part of her ongoing dispute with Deng Amei, she frequently seized any opportunity to undermine Deng Amei in her daily conversations with others, drawing attention to her transitory status as “married-out daughter” in the lineage whilst continuing to argue for her three sons’ right to Deng Amei’s parents’ estates. For instance, she had once repeated her main stance in the dispute as follows: The thing is of being out; it is really being out. If not, what does “out” mean? The married-out daughter is another family’s people once they are married out. They could not come back and take things out! In our past, we would even find it inappropriate to go back to our home village, as we have became another family’s people. As the old Chinese idiom says, “The married-out daughter is equal to the thrownout water” [she is totally removed from her natal home]. Every village should have this rule. But, that nasty bitch [Deng Amei] is shameless!15

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In addition, local information has it that Ajin, on a public occasion, remonstrated with Deng Amei on behalf of her three sons for their rights to Deng Amei’s parents’ estates. At the funeral for Deng Amei’s father in the village, a senior woman recalled how Ajin competed with Deng Amei to be the chief mourner in the event and pinpointed the critical point here as follows: It was really ridiculous! How could they [Ajin and Deng Amei] quarrel with each other even over the funeral ritual! Is it not sad enough? But, that Ajin truly came to compete with Deng Amei to take charge of the event and said that she only worked to represent her three sons who were in the Netherlands; that of course her three sons should hold the event as they would inherit Axin’s [Deng Amei’s father’s] family property. She claimed that it was their duty. It is unreasonable to simply get one’s family property without making the worship for him. But, her behavior was absolutely disgusting. While she worked to take the cup [a key ritual instrument] from Amei, her swearing against Amei was horrible. At that moment, I really didn’t want the others to know that I lived in the same village with her. That cup was almost torn apart, if Amei had not given up finally and said that she did not want her father’s funeral to become an open farce.16

Nevertheless, there are indications that many fellow villagers generally supported Ajin’s position in her dispute with Deng Amei. Deng Lichang is another married-out daughter in their lineage. In my interview with her, she accused Deng Amei in a similar vein to Ajin: As she [Deng Amei] was born a girl, she should already expect that a girl would not have any inheritance! Just like me, I never ask about my deceased father’s things and fight for them with my brothers. If everyone behaves like her, how can this world have order?17

On top of that, Deng Guanghua, one of the three village leaders, insisted that whatever this dispute was about, support must go to the male heirs. Not a bit of the property could be passed over to the “married-out daughter” because that would reduce the ancestral property. On one open occasion, he not only openly supported Ajin’s argument but also empowered it by invoking The Qing Law Code: Deng Amei is just a “servant girl.” She married an outsider. We must stand for the tradition of “bequeathing property to the male heir.” The

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Qing Law Code also gives the male heir the sole right of inheritance. Otherwise, all of the Dengs will lose face.18

Ajin in 1990 won her case, which enabled her sons to officially acquire her family’s estates. She had managed to do this with help from Deng Guanghua and a kinsman by going to the District Office to prove her sons’ adoptions. She then quickly went to the Court and obtained an official injunction preventing Deng Amei’s second daughter, Zhou Shaofen, from staying in the ancestral house. In effect, Zhou Shaofen was driven out of the house by the bailiff from the government. Two of Ajin’s sons swiftly returned to the village from the Netherlands and directly applied to the District Office to build a small house on the two farmlands in the family’s estates. Deng Amei said that this turn of events deeply irritated and frustrated her. In particular, the most unacceptable fact to her was the loss of those two plots of farmland where she had worked with her mother since childhood. “This is my mother’s land!” Deng Amei could not control her tears but cried it out in my interview. She claimed that the signatures on the formal deeds were still clearly in her mother’s name,19 and she described how these two plots were the legacy of her mother’s hard acquisitions from her lifelong savings with all her laborious sweat and toil: These two plots of farmland absolutely belonged to my mother and were earned by her sweat and toil. Up to now, I still clearly remember how hard she had worked on the farm. How difficult it was for her when she went to find money to buy the land from the landlord. . . . Her legs would suffer from the serious rheumatism and sharp pains while she was alive. It is also because she had worked too hard on those two farms.20

Still, Ajin had managed to obtain both these lands with the official recognition from the government. In my interview, Deng Amei could not control herself and began to emotionally berate the traditional authority of The Qing Law Code and the practice of patrilineal succession: What is that god-damned The Qing Law Code to allow people to rob other people’s things? Why as a daughter who looked after my parents would that mean I have no right to my family things at all? When I worked to serve my parents, where were Ajin’s three sons? What had they done for my parents? Could they show what they have done?

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Gender and Community under British Colonialism When my father died, my mother was not entitled to get any land or house from him. But, when my mother died, why could they come to take all her land? Even it [The Qing Law Code] upholds the rule “bequeathing to men not women,” they at most are able to get my father’s things. Why could they also take my mother’s land? . . . They [fellow villagers] said that they could do so because she was related to him as his wife. O.K.! The wife is related to her husband. Why could it not go the other way round? It is absolutely indefensible!21

To fight back for her parents’ property, Deng Amei told me that she subsequently hired a lawyer to act on behalf of her case. In 1993, she persuaded a lawyer in the official Legal Aid Department to take up the lawsuit for her. She also worked on her own to pursue all possible avenues for her case. She had at times tried to photograph the ancestral altar in Ajin’s home so as to produce material proof that Ajin’s family was under another branch of the Deng clan. But, she could not take this photo as Ajin always closed the door of her house. She had gone out of her way to reach some of the fellow villagers who could prove her status as her father’s real daughter. But no one was willing to help her, even though in private they recognized her claim. The matter of land ownership in the New Territories suddenly reemerged as Hong Kong’s return to China approached and brought a variety of issues to bear upon the social and political agenda of Hong Kong during the period that Deng Amei continued to fight back for her family’s property. Throughout this period, extensive social pressures surfaced, demanding change in the colonially authorized “Chinese tradition” in the New Territories. This event provided Deng Amei with a new moment for her blow-to-blow struggle with Ajin and other fellow villagers.

THE INVOLVEMENT OF LEGISLATOR CHRISTINE LOH IN THE LAND ISSUE OF THE NEW TERRITORIES It was the spring of 1994, and there were only three years left until the political change of sovereignty over Hong Kong from British colonial rule to the Chinese national regime on July 1, 1997. It was necessary for the Hong Kong government to undertake urgent legal reform regarding the New Territories. This legal reform was raised because the Hong Kong government had to rectify a legal anomaly in the practice of the New Territories Ordinance under the separate territorial policy of indirect rule. This legal anomaly had arisen due to a common misunderstanding that the New Territories Ordinance referred only to the indigenous population and only

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applied to the village areas in the New Territories. However, the New Territories Ordinance in the legal sense covered all the people and all the land in the New Territories, and could therefore require the court to enforce traditional (patrilineal) inheritance laws regarding land ownership, unless legal exemption had been made by the legal owner in accordance with the exemption clause in part II of the ordinance.22 Neither the Hong Kong government nor any of the 2 million urban migrant dwellers (about 40 percent of the Hong Kong population) in the developed or urbanized area of the New Territories registered any exemptions. Most public and private buildings and housing in these areas remained out of exemption and fell under the jurisdiction of the New Territories Ordinance, even though this obviously was not part of the expectations of their owners.23 As a matter of fact, some legal disputes had already arisen in the past as a consequence of this common juridical and administrative oversight.24 In 1993, the official department of the Hong Kong Housing Authority was required to make a public apology for their failure to apply for legal exemption from the New Territories Ordinance before they had carried out the public housing projects in the New Territories on the behalf of their citizens.25 Concerning the possible social crisis arising from this case, the Legislative Council pressed the Hong Kong government to undertake an emergency review and amendment of this New Territories Ordinance. The Hong Kong government finally decided to expand the existing exemption clause in this ordinance into a New Territories Land (Exemption) Bill, and proposed this bill to the Legislative Council. Also, the Hong Kong government endowed this bill with a retrospective legal power to exempt all nonrural land in the New Territories from the Chinese customary law recognized since 1910 by the existing New Territories Ordinance.26 It was not so simple for the Hong Kong government to correct their juridical anomaly, which had largely been caused by their patriarchal political bias in the practice of indirect rule and their oversight of the existence of separate rule of the whole New Territories. In any case, an elected independent legislator, Christina Loh, employed the moment to challenge the official policy of indirect rule and the rigidified Chinese feudal patrilineal inheritance practice. She cited Article 26 of the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights, which was to guarantee nondiscrimination on sexual grounds and which was newly incorporated into the Law of Hong Kong by Article 22 of the Hong Kong Bill of Human Rights.27 Combining the principle of this international covenant with the contemporary civic principle of gender equality, she claimed that the existing colonial policy of indirect rule in the New Territories was, in practice, sex discrimination.

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It was totally outdated from the contemporary context of the New Territories, which was now as extensively developed as the rest of urban Hong Kong. In her words, she publicly claimed, The society has already undergone obvious changes. Currently, the New Territories is not an old agricultural society still. . . . Land has no longer been the basis for the clan settlement in the agricultural society but instead has become a marketable commodity. . . . Tradition surely holds its historical background, but the observable fact is all those objective factors in keeping to the traditions of the clan society have been steadily dismantled. . . . We, as legislators, absolutely cannot allow the principle of equality to be compromised with customs of inequality. The mistake of the New Territories Ordinance was to enforce the last century’s customs in a coercive way.28

In line with her argument for gender equality, Legislator Loh drafted an amendment to the New Territories Land (Exemption) Bill presented by the government to the Legislative Council. In her amendment, she proposed to extend the New Territories Land (Exemption) Bill to include the “rural land” in the New Territories, not only the nonrural land there as the Hong Kong government originally suggested.29 In other words, she intended that all the New Territories would come under the General Law of Hong Kong where if a deceased did not prepare any will, his property would be divided into two equal shares: one for the spouse, and the other one equally shared among his children. Accordingly, the indigenous women would have the same inheritance right as men. The existing Chinese customary law, the male-only inheritance practice kept in place by the New Territories Ordinance under the policy of indirect rule, would no longer apply.30 Confronted with such an unexpected challenge from Legislator Loh, the Hong Kong government did not argue with her but rather openly stated that they had “no strong objection” to her amendment. The last colonial Hong Kong governor, Chris Patten, also publicly showed his support for the legislator’s actions for gender equality.31 However, numerous indigenous inhabitants (including men and women) in the New Territories vehemently reacted against Legislator Loh and the Hong Kong government’s supportive posture on her amendment. The Heung Yee Kuk, as the highest statutory body representing the indigenous habitants, forcefully denounced the colonial government as having failed to keep their political promise not to interfere with their traditions and customs.32 Legislator Loh’s amendment, which was made without any democratic consultation with them, would entirely destroy the continuity of their clan-based society.33 Huang Hongfa,

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an executive committee member of Heung Yee Kuk and a senior member of the Legislative Council, wrote to the Hong Kong press to counter the rising feminist critique of their traditional (patrilineal) order and practice: The reason for the support of the amendment mainly is out of the principle of gender equality. This is extremely dangerous thinking. Certainly, the principle of gender equality is an undeniably grand principle. But, the existing indigenous inhabitant’s traditional custom of bequeathing to men, not women, is totally irrelevant to the issue of gender inequality. Throughout the past hundreds of years, it was the need to keep the integrity of their clan society that made the indigenous inhabitants enforce the practice of bequeathing to men not women. Having different treatments for different groups of people is not necessarily discrimination.34

In this way, Huang not only attempted to play down the principle of gender equality as the matter of concern in the event, but also claimed that the present clan society in the New Territories could provide women with adequate cares and fair treatments: [T]he existing social structure in the New Territories has protected women to some extent. For instance, the widow can receive a provision from her family, the son or fictive son must look after their unmarried daughter and the daughter must have a dowry for their marriage and so on.35

To counter Legislator Loh’s juridical movement, Heung Yee Kuk rallied hundreds and thousands of indigenous men and women around the slogan “Protect our families and clans” and set up the Communal Headquarters to Struggle in the Protection of Families and the Defense of Clan to organize collective resistance.36 Swiftly and intensively, the Heung Yee Kuk launched numerous massive assemblies, large-scale marches, and protests. More and more people, village communities, rural bodies, and authorities were mobilized to join their fight. Throughout their protest against Legislator Loh and the actions of the colonial government, their people frequently sang various national songs to show their “Chineseness.”37 Their people also invoked various “traditional” features to undertake their present demonstrations. They staged some mock traditional trials of effigies of Governor Patten, Legislator Loh, and other key figures; sentenced them to death; and set them on fire.38 They also recalled the past histories of the armed resistance to the British colonizers during their early occupation, and once they even publicly worshipped the sacrificed ancestors of the armed resistance, with wide media

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coverage.39 One of their protestors even announced, to vast applause from the crowd, that he would bite and rape Legislator Loh if she entered the New Territories and came to visit their villages.40 Various important officials and agencies of the Chinese government became involved in this event, too. They raised this event to the level of state political issues relating to the reclaiming of sovereignty over Hong Kong. On the one hand, they supported the Heung Yee Kuk’s counteracts. They expressed the view that the indigenous custom and tradition should be protected as this was what had been guaranteed under the Basic Law of Hong Kong—the coming postcolonial constitution of Hong Kong under the Chinese national regime.41 On the other hand, they voiced their objections to the proposed amendment. In particular, they charged that Legislator Loh was part of the British conspiracy to destroy a peaceful transition of sovereignty over Hong Kong. The Hong Kong governor, Chris Patten, was the back player, whilst Legislator Loh was the collaborator. The Chinese accused them of simply wanting to create social contradictions and disturbances at the last moment of the colonial period of Hong Kong. Zhang Junsheng, the deputy director of the Chinese News Agency in Hong Kong, proclaimed, “The problem now is someone creating conflicts, dividing Hong Kong people and breaking social stability. We hope the Hong Kong government will not breach the Joint Declaration again, which states that it is responsible for social stability.”42 However, Legislator Loh also won substantial support from different political parties, women’s groups, religious institutions, nongovernmental organizations, academics and critics, social work associations, celebrities, and other public figures.43 Under the threat of rape and the terror of physical assault, she still went to visit some villages and initiated a public consultative meeting with the indigenous inhabitants in a Deng ancestral hall. Under the thick protection of a heavy police presence, she completed her rural consultations without suffering any real attack.44 Once, she even drew out the Chinese Constitution that also codified the principle of gender equality to argue against the Chinese officials.45 Eventually, her private amendment was passed in the Legislative Council and won with 36 votes versus 2 votes against.46

THE DEVELOPMENT OF DENG AMEI’S LAND DISPUTE According to Deng Amei, she, as an indigenous woman affected by this colonial law (The New Territories Ordinance), participated intensely in Legislator Loh’s camp. She joined an ad hoc committee created for this issue, along with many feminists, social workers, and other indigenous women like her. She saw

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the media and publicly told of her land dispute with Ajin. She visited Legislator Loh and attended various assemblies and demonstrations in support of Loh’s juridical action. When she now talks about her story, she also loves to recall this event and feels great satisfaction about the successful result.47 However, Deng Amei’s land dispute did not end when Legislator Loh’s private amendment bill was passed. She still needed to wait for the long procedures of the court in dealing with her case.48 On the other hand, there are indications in the field that her fellow villagers grew increasingly exacerbated with her and viewed her as a hateful troublemaker who had created the whole Legislator Loh controversy in order to destroy their customs. Throughout their daily meetings and chats, they engaged more in personal attacks and character assassination against her. For example, many village men and women continued to spread an extreme sexist rumor that she had became a low-priced prostitute since she had divorced her husband. They even claimed that she would engage in disgusting “wild fights” in the forest for some of her clients. In a similar vein, they frequently talked about Deng Amei’s “real relationship” with her existing male tenant. In their daily gossip, they said that this male tenant was Deng Amei’s secret lover. He apparently rented a residence from her, but the fact was that he lived on intimate terms with her and was having an affair with her. As her second daughter, Zhou Shaofen, had now moved in with her, the gossip increased. The gossip now extended to claim that Deng Amei’s “that-part” could not service her secret lover because she had overused it in making money in her past. Her second daughter, Zhou Shaofen, had now replaced her in this area because since she had divorced from her husband she had suffered from a lack of a sexual life.49 On top of these personal attacks, many people in Da Shu village collectively isolated Deng Amei from their community. They seldom chatted with her or had any interactions with her. Some of them even claimed that they would remind their children to avoid going to her home or to not play with Deng Amei’s grandchildren.50 Nevertheless, Deng Amei expressed the claim that her village fellows had never challenged her face-to-face or disturbed her in the village. She still continued her fight to win back her parents’ property and was deeply convinced that she would win in the end. She expressed her confidence: “I was a cowherd since I was small. I became a coolie at the construction site as a grown-up. I have been elsewhere, seen everyone and everything. That is what I am: a real shrew, and I was known for this since my childhood. There is nothing they [her village fellows] can do about me! I must have my things back one day.”51 Furthermore, I was told that the discussion on the part of her village fellows was not entirely one-sided. Their aversion to Deng Amei arising

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from her involvement with Legislator Loh’s action never caused them to hold back their deep appreciation of her as an extraordinary filial daughter. There were also some sympathies for her case as well. An elderly woman in the village who once talked about Deng Amei like a heroine said, She [Deng Amei] surely is the model of a great daughter whom I seldom see. It is really difficult to find someone like that these days. Since she was a little child, she worked extremely hard to help her mother. When her mother became old and suffered from paralysis, her life in looking after her mother was extremely tough indeed. Day-to-day she kept cooking the meals for her mother and helping her mother to bathe, to change clothing, and to go to the toilet, so on and so on. . . . She also frequently moved around the village keeping her company to make her feel good, or simply walking by her house and looking from her window to ensure that she was fine. Whenever her mother needed to go to hospital or had something else to do outside, she came back to her mother to help her go in and out. But, that Ajin was really overpowering! Even though her sons have the right to Deng Amei’s parents’ property, she should not treat Deng Amei so overpoweringly and always swear at her. After all, she [Deng Amei] was her parents’ direct child. She should have some rights to her parents’ matters.52

At first sight, the rise of Deng Amei’s land dispute appears to be “present” and “local” and profoundly “personal” and “domestic.” The issue was ownership of three village houses of a common village family with two areas of farmland. The participants were members of a kin group, and all of them were “ordinary” people. The venue was no more than a village community, and it was a typical setting. In terms of the large area of the New Territories, this village community occupied hardly a dot. In terms of the 7 million and so population of Hong Kong up to the year 2000, this group of ordinary people constituted an extremely insignificant proportion. However, the development of this case and the juxtaposition of it relative to Legislator Loh’s action illuminate that the issues involved in this land dispute were deeply “historical” and “global,” and extremely “political” and “social” too. The events were intricately entangled with the real conflicts of the colonial state, the postcolonial state, and the patriarchs on one side, and the unique interconnections of Deng Amei’s personal struggle with Legislator Loh’s juridical movement on the other side. Now I seek to unpack this multidimensional case and thereby produce some more general

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discussions of the unique gender practices in the colonial and postcolonial New Territories. In the first place, this case negates some mainstream interpretations such as Freedman’s Chinese lineage organization studies, which produced a flat narration of the New Territories as a static society, untouched and bearing witness to traditional Chinese practice. By contrast, this case makes it clear that society in the New Territories is a highly complex congeries of experiences configured by multiple historical memories and practices. The village there is not a static, homogeneous community but a dynamic society full of diverse agents who act relative to internal and external forces, resulting in practices of collusion, competition, and, only occasionally, consensus. These multiple historical memories and practices range from the personal (indicated by the story of Deng Amei), through the regional (indicated by the demonstrations by Heung Yee Kuk), to the national (indicated in the “reinvention” of the feudal authority of Great Qing Dynasty) and the contemporary (indicated by the arguments of Legislator Loh and the interventions of both colonial and postcolonial states). In the meantime, different legal systems at different levels have been utilized by these different agents to legitimize their own specific positions and to challenge one another. Accordingly, The Qing Law Code, the separate territorial New Territories Ordinance, the General Law of Hong Kong, the postcolonial constitution in the Basic Law of Hong Kong, the Chinese Constitution, and international law have been all drawn out by these different agents during their intricate contestations. Moreover, the contemporary civic principle of gender equality and the historic values of Chinese “traditionalism” had, at the same time, been used in collision with each other. The liberation of women and the reincarnation of the old Chinese patriarchy had resulted in a situation where protagonists pursued conflicting strategies. The locality of the New Territories is in a state of play where heterogeneous subjects, historical dynamics, and sociopolitical forces interact. Importantly, Deng Amei’s case further highlights the problematic patriarchal nature of the “Chinese tradition” in practice. By operating as an “honorable patriarch,” Ajin frequently obtained substantial privileges from this rule simply because she had three sons who were the lawful male heirs. In effect, not only did the village leaders and other powerful patriarchs directly help her, but also the whole community in the village generally supported her. The colonial state came to reinstate her claim over the heritage of Deng Amei’s parents with both legal and bureaucratic recognition as well. It is precisely the close complicity between Chinese patriarchy and British colonial rule behind the mask of indirect rule that officially

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and socially empowered Ajin, giving her an advantageous institutional and practical position in the event. However, Deng Amei’s case also suggests that both the colonial state and the local patriarchy were never all-powerful and well coordinated. As the extraordinary episode of the Loh controversy shows, the colonial state had critical self-contradictions in its jurisdiction and was ignorant of some of the applications of indirect rule. Their sociopolitical relationship with the patriarchs was also shown to have quickly collapsed and dramatically turned out to be totally irreconcilable. In practice, the patriarchs even invoked their “Chineseness” to play out their realpolitik. They collectively reinvented various Chinese practices in order to demonstrate their so-called authentic traditional Chinese identity. They suddenly shifted into the role of aggressive anticolonialists and expediently drew a new alliance with the coming postcolonial Chinese state, which made use of the moment to valorize their political prerogatives and diplomatic stance against the colonial British state. All in all, the real essence of this case does not rest upon the long coalition of the British colonial state with Chinese patriarchs. The lesson of this case does not simply rest upon the point that the colonial New Territories actually contained a concurrent patriarchal and colonial (and now postcolonial national) discourse, which suppressed women through its dominant sociopolitical structure. Rather, the importance of these events is that it demonstrates that neither the colonial state nor the Chinese patriarchy in the New Territories could totally determine the lives of the local community. Even with their long co-ruling of the New Territories, it is still by no means hegemonic enough to suppress dissent. There was no “maleonly” to speak of in a concrete sociopolitical field. Women in their own right were always essential agents in the formation of human society. Throughout their blow-by-blow confrontation in the village, both Deng Amei and Ajin actively used the patriarchs to reach their specific ends. To legitimize their different claims over the inheritance, both drew upon their patriarchs to “act,” whether they were absent, dead, or alive, through their subtle manipulations of the cultural symbols and powers. To obtain the official intervention from the colonial state into their private dispute, both also took legal action to fight for their specific interest. However, under their conflictual circumstances, neither the patriarchy nor the colonial powers could be really effective, but instead they exposed their internal disorders, contradictions, and vulnerabilities. In these matters, I find Deng Amei’s deep dissent from the coercive (patriarchal and colonial) arrangement of her parents’ inheritance to be extremely significant and historically meaningful. Her personal struggle

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produced an immediate interruption of the critical manifestation of patrilineal and patriarchal colonial order via the cultural notion of “Chinese tradition.” Her open rebellion demonstrated radical practices to fight for an essential female interest: their existential right to land. In particular, her case posed a sharp gender question: why would a woman who put her lifelong labor in the land not be entitled to the rights of that land? Her case also singled out an important theme that land is frequently of critical territorial control and essential economic interests for sure. But it should also be of the living right of people, and, as Chun determined, “land is to live.”53 It is the essential domain where people undertake their common livelihood, develop their intimate relationships, and create unforgettable shared experiences among themselves. People’s material practice on land is their important social practices with their deep emotional significance at the same time. The loss of their land is a critical deprivation of the thickness of their existence. Nevertheless, Deng Amei’s position was not alone. Her deep dissent by no means was a powerless crying out in an extensive desert without any resonations and far-reaching effects. In the context of Legislator Loh’s intervention into the land issue of the New Territories, her personal struggle was shared with other similar cases and obtained various fellows’ supports. A critical “war on position” (using Antonio Gramsci’s term) was aired out in society at large, as she “spoke out” herself and worked with other active female agents like Legislator Loh, feminists, and women’s groups in the recent colonial social history of Hong Kong. In this event, various existing social forces and political bodies—from the ordinary indigenous villagers, village elites, and Heung Yee Kuk to members of the Legislative Council, Governor Chris Patten, the Hong Kong government, and Chinese officials— had to take sides and make their gender orientations regarding their collective action too. In general, there was about a century of colonial history in the New Territories of Hong Kong. Deng Amei’s case interestingly elaborates a famous notion of Karl Marx with renewed feminist meaning: “Man makes history, but they do not make it just as they please”54 (emphasis added). With her ten-year-long, hard, and tough personal struggle at an end, Deng Amei told me that in 1997 she eventually obtained a largely successful result to her land dispute. She reached an important compromise with Ajin by private mediation outside the court. In this compromise, she agreed to allow Ajin’s three sons to possess her father’s three ancestral houses on the condition that Ajin’s three sons returned her mother’s two plots of farmland to her. Consequently, Ajin accepted this compromise as well. Her three sons also formally changed the entitlement of her mother’s two plots of farmland to her. In 1998, Deng Amei recalled this compromise:

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Gender and Community under British Colonialism To begin with, they [Ajin and her sons] surely did not want to give anything back to me. But, they gradually started wondering about whether they could win the suit in court or not since the law also has been changed. So, they found a village fellow whom I am also familiar with to talk to me. I clearly told him [the mediator] that: as they said that my father’s three ancestral houses were the men’s things, it was fine. I could give them to her three sons and would never fight for them. But, I must have my mother’s land back as they belonged to my mother. They by no means were their things! By the end of day, they once again reached me through that mediator and asked me to see the lawyer for doing the official procedure to return my mother’s land to me. So, I also went to see my lawyer to cancel my suit against them.55

One winter morning, Deng Amei led me to see her farms. On arriving there, she was overwhelmed by her emotions and once again repeated the many details of her struggle for her land. Out of habit, she unconsciously squatted down, cleared some weeds, and gently felt the surface, checking the soil. With many complex emotions, she picked up some soil and drew in the smells, deeply savoring the aromas, an intimate act which she had shared with her mother whom she had sadly missed for a long time.

Conclusion

There is action, and history, and conservation or transformation of structures only because there are agents, but agents who are acting and efficacious only because they are not reduced to what is ordinarily put under the notion of individual and who, as socialized organisms, are endowed with an ensemble of dispositions which imply both the propensity and ability to get into and play the game. —Pierre Bourdieu and Loïc J. D. Wacquant1

A SUMMARY OF THE COLONIAL STORY With an excerpt from the farewell speech by Chris Patten, the last governor of Hong Kong, on the eve of the handover, I commenced this book about how British colonial rulers ultimately justified their occupation of Hong Kong by appealing to the creation of contemporary political institutions and remarkable economic developments for Hong Kong. This feature reminds us that colonial rule was profoundly the self-styled “civilizing mission” in action. As Ashis Nandy pointed out, “Colonialism minus a civilizational mission is no colonialism at all.”2 Even up to the last moment, colonial rule still purported to maintain its global hegemony by drawing upon such an old and tired discourse from the last century. However, colonial domination of other countries in contemporary history was not straightforward and omnipotent. My discussion of the New Territories under British colonialism indicated that at the practical level, colonial rule needed to maintain its ruling authority with another apparently contradictory feature at the same time. This was its culturally sensitive claim to rule over the indigenous people by adopting their custom and tradition through their policy of indirect rule. However, neither of these ruling policies was in fact fully carried out, nor did this picture truthfully represent the actual sociopolitical relation and practice in the colonial New Territories. Subsequent to the implementation 143

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of indirect rule in the New Territories, the British overwhelmingly transformed the status quo of the Chinese village communities, despite the ostensible noninterventionist nature of their indirect rule. Very often, they only partially adopted the precolonial Chinese values and practices and also imposed new models and doings upon the village communities in the New Territories for their ruling needs and convenience. It could be said that the policy of indirect rule of the British colonial government, like that of the “civilizing mission,” was no more than a ruling rhetoric for maintaining a beautifully legitimate façade which masked their real sociopolitical practice. The colonial encounter between the British and the Chinese communities also was one of unending conflicts and contestations in different arenas at different levels, resulting in fundamental transformations on both sides. Since the postwar period, British colonial rule even introduced the great social and economic transformation to the New Territories for the general urban and industrial development of Hong Kong in spite of the increasingly obvious contradictions with their existing policy of indirect rule. It is therefore not simply to be, in Jan Nederveen Pieterse and Bhikhu Parekh’s words, “guilty of half-truth”3 if one just maintains either that British colonial rule preserved the local circumstances of the New Territories or that British colonial rule eventually completed its “civilizing mission” for the Chinese village communities in the New Territories. In fact, it is a total failure to see the fundamental historicity of the colonial encounter in the New Territories, a complex congeries of numerous consequential clashes, intricate interplays, and ongoing contradictions with intended and unintended compromises for expediency. As Nicholas Dirks remarked, “Hegemony is perhaps the wrong word to use for the colonial power, since it implies not only consent but the political capacity to generate consent through the institutional spaces of civil society, notably absent in the colonial context.”4 Early Western and Chinese Sinological literatures have developed a prevailing interpretation of the New Territories with little attention to these changing relationships. Clearly, these early Sinological literatures are not without fruitful anthropological or historical documentations of the changing circumstances in the New Territories under British colonial rule behind the mask of indirect rule. Neither is this scholarship to be lacking in insightful discussions of the Chinese communities, particularly the formal principles and official views about Chinese people’s lineage and other collective institutions during the British colonial era. However, their general theoretical adherence to the conventional notion of a “traditional” Chinese society in the New Territories under the special aegis of British colonial rule caused at least one serious drawback in these accounts. That is to reify the Chinese communities in the New Territories as a spatial and temporal other

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without real counterparts. These accounts also egregiously validated British colonial rule instead of attempting to understand the actual circumstances of the New Territories. In order to go beyond these early essentializing Sinological studies, this book has shown the value of a context-specific analysis that is relational and people-centered to the study of the colonial New Territories. By adopting such a context-specific analysis to the case studies of the village of Da Shu, my ethnographic account is able to set events into the wider social conjuncture in order to see their intricate interplays and to be open to their changing features without subscribing to some ahistorical models. My ethnographic account also reveals a considerably different picture of the Chinese village communities that shows some remarkable complexity and flexibility in the actual practice of people. Far from representing some uniform cultural models or inert institutions from an immemorial past, the life stories in my discussion suggest that the living dynamics of the village communities in the colonial New Territories were active, highly fuzzy, and indeterminate. During the British colonial era, people have generally shifted their livelihood from the past agricultural practice on their land to the growing industrial sectors of Hong Kong and even the marginal economic opportunities abroad in only about two to three decades. Since some obtained remarkable economic advantages from the recent increases in the market value of their land, the communities have become increasingly differentiated. In essence, the general continuity of the Chinese communities in the colonial New Territories always entails numerous shifting living situations and practices on the ground. People had various hard struggles throughout different critical points of time with their different voices. There is a great variety of living experience, and that is a great deal more interesting in the colonial New Territories. These life stories in my discussion support the gender-sensitive argument of an adverse symbiosis between British colonial rule and Chinese patriarchy in the sociopolitical governance of the New Territories. By concentrating on the colonial reification of Chinese lineage organization in the name of respecting “Chinese tradition,” my discussion indicates that at the practical level, British colonial rule subjected the women in Chinese communities to extreme patrilineal and patriarchal institutions. Colonial rule of the colonized Chinese people entailed both highly partial recognition of “Chinese tradition” in strong patriarchal terms and extensive penetrations of local communities by new economic and political practices originating in the central government of Hong Kong. Consequently, the Chinese lineage organization in the New Territories was legislatively and administratively authorized in the local communities and kept its androcentric rule in action

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with their landed corporations that control the increasingly significant ancestral estates and communal goods on an agnatic basis. Women were generally confronted with official exclusion from various public institutions and formal communal economic and political processes. Nonetheless, the life stories in my discussion equally suggest that the gender dynamic inherent in the colonial encounter in the New Territories is not monolithic. It would be simplistic to view the rise of the colonialcum-patriarchal order in the New Territories as having been fully successful or totally definite. There are indications that this colonial-cum-patriarchal order, particularly as it links to agnatic corporations over ancestral estates and communal leadership, seldom smoothly or agreeably operated at the ground level. In numerous circumstances, the various aggressive competitions for more personal economic benefit and political status which were pursued by the patriarchs resulted in the creation of a great deal of internal disharmonies, deep cleavages, vexing arguments, and even overpowering oppositions throughout the actual workings of this order in the Chinese communities. The dominant patriarchal discourse failed to address the many gendered complexities and details of the actual domestic and communal situations in the practice of local life. One essential finding in this regard from the life stories is that men are seldom as capable and powerful as the gender role the dominant patriarchal discourse ideologically called them to take on for their household and community. The domestic requirement and social expectations of the dominant patriarchal discourse—like having a male heir for family succession, and men developing themselves with independence, conducting themselves as good example for their descendants, creating their career success, and earning honor for their family—are often beyond men’s real capacity or practice to be able to fulfill. Infertility, incompetence, mediocrity, stupidity, hedonism, idleness, and self-indulgence could become critical vulnerabilities and even fundamental ruptures of the patriarchal authority over the household and community. In these matters, the obvious fallacy of the dominant patriarchal discourse, of course, is its insistence upon male strength and might without taking into account indeterminacy and contingency in practical situations. On the contrary, many Chinese women are seldom as passive and weak as the dominant patriarchal discourse ideologically presumes. They possess various influential positions and exercise agency beyond the control of the patriarchal rule. They could become the effective household head of their family. They also individually or collectively crosscut the androcentric rule over the communal affairs with their close observations, frequent exchange of information, and informal influence upon the communal decision-making process. In their casual conversation and daily intercourse,

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they voiced their reality and maintained the order of things according to their interests. They critically reflected upon the prevailing patrilineal and paternal principle from the dominant patriarchal discourse in their community and even questioned the hegemonic cultural notion of Chinese “tradition” authorized by the colonial rule in the New Territories from their own perspectives and an awareness of the contemporary civic principle of gender equality. Thus, in the final analysis, neither British colonial rulers nor Chinese patriarchs could be the only agents in determining social reality. The social order in the Chinese household and community largely came about as a result of bargaining between the sexes, and it was continuously subjected to local negotiations among different agents with numerous fluid aspects and room for maneuvers as well. The story of the colonial New Territories was an intricate ongoing conjuncture of multiple agents, with both male and female actors and their different voices, actions, and life stories.

SOME PRELIMINARY THREADS OF THE POSTCOLONIAL STORY The new postcolonial era of Hong Kong under the new national Chinese regime now has commenced for about one decade. Perhaps, it is still too early to ask whether the new postcolonial era of Hong Kong after British colonialism has introduced something substantially new to Hong Kong. Perhaps, it is already too late to put forward this question as the order may have already been established. However, current studies illuminate that China frequently claimed sovereignty over Hong Kong on strong anticolonial terms. But, in practice, China has seldom proceeded to remove foreign and colonial practices from their so-called sacrosanct territory of Hong Kong. British colonial practices—their bureaucratic system, ruling discourse, political strategy, and social control mechanisms in particular—did not simply end as colonial sovereignty over Hong Kong came to an end. In the name of “one country, two systems,” the current postcolonial Chinese government of Hong Kong was established upon numerous reinventions of the previous British colonial rule.5 Stephen Vines even straightforwardly argued that the postcolonial Hong Kong has simply become “China’s colony” and wrote, China’s guiding principle in devising a new system for Hong Kong was to preserve the colonial form of rule. Moreover, the new regime proceeded to bring back some of the worst colonial practices in order to ensure that what the leaders in Peking call “the glorious reunification

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In the case of the New Territories, I observed that postcolonialism is not an end of colonialism there. China has attempted to preserve the previous colonial indigenous policy for the local communities. The Basic Law of Hong Kong, Article 40 in Chapter III, “Fundamental Rights and Duties of the Residents,” states, “The lawful traditional rights and interests of the indigenous inhabitants of the ‘New Territories’ shall be protected by the Hong Kong Special Administrative Region.”7 Article 122 in Chapter V (“Economy”), Section II (“Land Leases”) specifies, In the case of old schedule lots, village lots, small houses and similar rural holdings, where the property was on 30 June 1984 held by, or, in the case of small houses granted after that date, where the property is granted to, a lessee descended through the male line form a person who was in 1898 a resident of an established village in Hong Kong, the previous rent shall remain unchanged so long as the property is held by that lessee or by one of his lawful successors in the male line.8

Is it to be a case of “indirect rule à la Chinese” in the postcolonial situation of the New Territories? Is there to be a new Chinese national retention of the old British colonial retention of the so-called Chinese tradition in the New Territories of Hong Kong? “Indigenous inhabitants,” a social category which by definition should only exist vis-à-vis the rise of foreign rule, currently continues to exist under the original national regime. In terms of the original revolutionary mission that the Chinese socialist regime claimed, is this the liberation of the whole Chinese nation from the old China? I cannot help but ask these questions and wonder about their answers. However, it can be clear that the notion of “Chinese tradition” not only continues to be a key concept in the sociopolitical governance of the New Territories but also obtains a new official recognition at constitutional level from the current postcolonial Chinese government of Hong Kong. Under this postcolonial reinvention of the colonial rule around the notion of “Chinese tradition,” the current Chinese government by and large maintains the same patriarchal bias as the former colonial rule in dealing with the village communities in the New Territories. The local patriarchs keep their past status and privileges in their village communities. The women remain subjected to the extreme patrilineal and patriarchal institutions. Land continues to be an essential matter of concern in the postcolonial practice of the New Territories. Throughout my current visits of the postcolonial Da

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Shu village, I observed that the indigenous villagers continued to hold their strong interest as before in their agnatic corporations over their ancestral estates and other investments on land and property development for longterm economic benefit. Building small houses by using their dingquan and undertaking renewal projects of their old houses for making handsome profits and regular rental income remain their key practice for living and keep going on in their community. At the general level, this overwhelming development of land for exchange in the village communities in the postcolonial New Territories generates not only abundant economic value but also immediate social and political contradiction. As the indigenous villagers continue to rent and even sell their landed property, the proportion of the nonindigenous villagers in their village inevitably increases and even outnumbers the indigenous villagers. In fact, this has already been the case in the New Territories for a long time, and a legal dispute over the nonindigenous villagers’ right to participate in the election of village representatives had once arisen. In order to fix this obvious contradiction in the local circumstances of the New Territories, the current Chinese government in 2001 introduced the dual-village representative policy to the village communities in the New Territories, a policy that allows both indigenous and nonindigenous villagers to have their own village representatives to act on behalf of themselves.9 At one level, this current political feature obviously brings a fundamental change to the political ecology of the village communities and continues to be a critical issue in the future development of the postcolonial New Territories. At another level, this current political feature is another clear example to show not only that the British colonial legacy preconditioned the current Chinese government in Hong Kong but also that the current Chinese government in Hong Kong enlarges the legacy to deal with the new ruling situation and need. In any case, discussion of a “postcolonial situation,” as recent studies pointed out, should not just take its meaning in a purely temporal sense, thereby simply focusing on what is being after colonialism. It should also single out another important meaning of the prefix “post” here, and that is to look at what is “going beyond” colonialism.10 However, many postcolonial writers such as Frantz Fanon and Albert Memmi are fundamentally pessimistic when they attempt to look for the possible transcendence of Western colonialism in order to reach a substantial sense of decolonization in their own countries.11 Local postcolonial researchers in Hong Kong, too, have already sentimentally put forward a totally hopeless view: The dream for decolonization has fundamentally broken down. We are all alerted to the fact that colonialism did not come just from foreign

150

Gender and Community under British Colonialism powers, but also the central government’s domination and control over the local regions within the very same country as much as the practice of colonialism even with amplifications of them into an extreme fashion.12

However, if a postcolonial situation is a continuity of the past colonial situation, this also makes me believe that the current postcolonial reinvention of the apparently successful ruling model from the former colonial rule in Hong Kong will be fundamentally weak and in the end unsuccessful and removable. My discussion of the struggles of people, their sensitive reflections upon the prevailing patriarchal order, their various engagements with the dominant political rule, their individual or collective actions to create room for maneuver, and their speaking out in history with consequential impact will surely continue. The postcolonial situation of Hong Kong will be equally full of remarkable life stories and people’s numerous interplays with different hegemonic forces at different levels. Thanks to this little village of Da Shu, I can appreciate the point that the great value of a specific human community does not necessarily lie in its important members of the present and the past. On the contrary, it can be equally argued that of equal importance are the considerably numerous, real, and hard human efforts and dynamics in the creation of significant social changes occasioned even with some successes. The possibility for a postcolonial situation in terms of its deeper sense of “going beyond” is ever here and now on the ground.

Glossary

All transliteration of Chinese terms is by the pinyin system of Mandarin except for those terms that are already conventionally romanized through the phonetic system of Cantonese; the latter are italicized in the following list. Afen

阿芬

Ajin

阿婶

A-keung

阿强

Aliang

阿娘

Axin

阿信

Aying

阿英

bequeathing property to male heir

传男不传女

biao

表

biao xiongdizimei

表兄弟姊妹

big taigong

大太公

Bozhongliang

伯忠娘

Chang Ping

长平

child bride

童养媳

Christina Loh

陆恭蕙

chuantong

传统

Da Shu village

大树村 151

152

Glossary

dajin

大妗

Deng Amei

邓阿妹

Deng Bafang

邓八方

Deng Baocai

邓宝财

Deng Baofu

邓宝富

Deng Changhu

邓昌户

Deng Chunli

邓纯丽

Deng Deming

邓德明

Deng Feiyang

邓飞扬

Deng Ganlin

邓甘霖

Deng Guanghua

邓光华

Deng Guidao

邓贵道

Deng Guiren

邓贵仁

Deng Guiyi

邓贵义

Deng Hanjie

邓汉杰

Deng Licheng

邓丽嫦

Deng Qingcong

邓青松

Deng Rixin

邓日新

Deng Tuocheng

邓拓城

Deng Xingxing

邓信兴

Deng Yinfu

邓因福

Dengs

邓氏

dian

殿

dingquan

丁权

fang

房

Fu Mei Au

凤尾凹

Fu Mei Au Taigong

凤尾凹太公

Fu Mei Au Xiang

凤尾凹乡

Glossary

153

fu-mu-kuan

父母官

fung shui

风水

fuquan

父权

gongsheng

贡生

Guoci

狗仔

guoji

过继

Haus

侯氐

Heung Yee Kuk

乡议局

hu

户

Huang Hongfa

黄宏发

Huang Jieying

黄洁盈

hukou

户口

jia

家

Kam Tin

锦田

Kun Lung Wai

觐龙围

Kwai Tsing

葵青

Liang Guang Tang

亮光堂

Liang Sanjie

梁三姐

Liao Jinzhi

廖金枝

Liao Yindi

廖引娣

Liaos

廖氏

Lin Yuee

林月娥

Lius

廖氏

Lo Wai

老围

Ma Wat Wai

麻笏围

Ma Yuerong

马悦容

Mans

文氏

married-out daughter

外嫁女

154

Glossary

The married-out daughter is equal to the thrown-out-water.

嫁出去的女是拨出去的水

meici

妹仔

Ming Dynasty

明朝

Ming Jin

明婶

Mu De Tang

穆德堂

Northern Song Dynasty

北宋

Only sitting and eating must one day use up the material, even if it is as huge as a mountain.

坐吃山空

Pangs

彭氏

piaolaichai

漂来柴

Qianlong

乾隆

Qing Dynasty

清朝

Qing Law Code, the

大清律例

Quan Daijin

关带金

red hair ghost

红毛鬼

Ri An Tang

日安堂

Sai Kung

西贡

Sha Dai Po

傻太婆

Sha Tin

沙田

Shang Tusen

上村

shi zai bang

室在旁

Sijiatou

四家头

sili

司理

Song Dynasty

宋朝

Tai Po

大埔

taigong

太公

Taigong gives us pork.

太公分猪肉

Glossary

155

Tainhou Temple

天后宫

tang

堂

Tang Lung-kong

邓龙岗

tang xiongdizimei

堂兄弟姊妹

Tangs

邓氏

tiku

地骨

tipi

地皮

tong

堂

Tudi Temple

土地庙

Tuen Mun

屯门

Tung Kok Wai

东阁围

Uncle Xiang

祥叔

wei

外

wei zufu

外祖父

wei zumu

外祖母

Weiming

伟明

weixingren

外姓人

xiang

乡

Xinjie Nonggongshang Yanjiu Zonghui

新界农工商研究总会

xunding

巡丁

Yuen Long

元朗

Yujiao

玉娇

Zhang Arao

张阿娆

Zhang Junshang

张俊生

Zhen Hong Tang

振鸿堂

Zheng Axue

郑阿雪

Zhou Shaofen

周少芬

zhuhu

住户

156

Glossary

zijiren

自己人

zu

祖

zufu

祖父

zumu

祖母

Notes on Measurements

1 hectare = 2.471 acres 1 HK dollar = 0.13 U.S. dollar (usual rate) 1 picul = 50 kilograms 1 square meter = 3.3 square feet

157

Notes

NOTES TO THE INTRODUCTION 1. Andy On-tat Ho, ed., Quotations from Chris Patten (Hong Kong: Sub Culture, 1997), 104–5. 2. Hong Kong Broadcast Consortium, The Hong Kong Handover Celebrations, videocassette (Hong Kong: Hong Kong Broadcast Consortium, 1997). 3. Jack M. Potter, Capitalism and the Chinese Peasant: Social and Economic Change in a Hong Kong Village (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1968), viii; and Myron L. Cohen, House United, House Divided: The Chinese Family in Taiwan (New York: Columbia University Press, 1976), xiv– xv. 4. Maurice Freedman, “A Report in Social Research in the New Territories of Hong Kong,” Journal of the Hong Kong Branch of Royal Asiatic Society 16 (1963): 193. 5. Maurice Freedman, Chinese Lineage and Society: Fukien and Kwangtung (London: Athlone Press, 1966), viii. 6. Ibid. 7. Maurice Freedman, Lineage Organization in Southeastern China (London: Athlone Press, 1958). 8. C. Wright Mills, The Sociological Imagination (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1959), 34. 9. Burton Pasternak, Kinship and Community in Two Chinese Villages (Stanford, Calif.: Stanford University Press, 1972), 159. 10. Rubie S. Watson, Inequality among Brothers: Class and Kinship in South China (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1985). 11. David Faure, The Structure of Chinese Rural Society: Lineage and Village in the Eastern New Territories, Hong Kong (Hong Kong: Oxford University Press, 1986). 12. Allen Chun, Unstructuring Chinese Society: The Fictions of Colonial Practice and the Changing Realities of “Land” in the New Territories of Hong Kong (Amsterdam: Harwood Academic Publishers, 2000).

159

160

Notes to the Introduction

13. Allen Chun, “The Lineage-Village Complex in Southern China: A Long Footnote in the Anthropology of Kinship,” Current Anthropology 37, no. 3 (1996): 429–50. 14. Marjorie Topley, “Foreword,” in Aspects of Social Organization in the New Territories, Weekend Symposium, 9th–10th May, 1964, ed. the Hong Kong Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society (Hong Kong: Cathay Press, 1964), i. 15. Ronald Ng, “Culture and Society of a Hakka Community on Lantau Island, Hong Kong,” in Hong Kong: A Society in Transition, ed. Ian Charles Jarvie (London: Routledge, 1969), 53–63. 16. Huge D. R. Baker, “The Five Great Clans of the New Territories,” Journal of the Hong Kong Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society 6 (1966): 25–47. 17. Jack M. Potter, “Land and Lineage in Traditional China,” in Family and Kinship in Chinese Society, ed. Maurice Freedman (Stanford, Calif.: Stanford University Press, 1970), 121–38. 18. James L. Watson, Emigration and the Chinese Lineage: The Mans in Hong Kong and London (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1975). 19. Antiquities and Monuments Office, Hong Kong Government, Lung Yeuk Tau Heritage Trail, leaflet (Hong Kong: Antiquities and Monuments Office, Hong Kong Government Printer, 1999); James Hayes, South China Village Culture (Hong Kong: Oxford University Press, 2001); Patricia Lim, Discovering Hong Kong’s Cultural Heritage: The New Territories (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2002); Qiu Dong, Xinjie Fengwu Yu Minqing (Customary features and ethos in the New Territories) (Hong Kong: Sanlian Shudian, 1999); Zheng Chijin and Zhang Zhikai, eds., Yuanjumin Chuantong Yu Qi Quanyi (Indigenous inhabitants’ traditions and their rights) (Hong Kong: Lingnan Daxue Zuqun Yu Haiwei Huaren Jingji Yanjiubu, 2000); Rao Jiucai, Xianggang Jiu Fengwu (The old customary features of Hong Kong) (Hong Kong: Tiandi Tushu, 2001); and Chen Ruizheng, ed., Zhongguo Chuantong Jieri Ke Fengsu (Chinese traditions and festivals) (Hong Kong: Wanli Shudian, 2001). 20. Nelson Y. Y. Kan, Journey through History: A Modern Course 1 (Hong Kong: Aristo Educational Press, 2001). 21. Shu Min Huang, “Hong Kong’s Colonial Administration and the Land Tenure System,” in Rural Hong Kong: The Anthropological Perspectives, ed. Shu Min Huang (Ames: Iowa State University Department of Sociology and Anthropology, 1982), 66. 22. Edward W. Said, Orientalism (New York: Vintage, 1979). 23. Johannes Fabain, Time and the Other: How Anthropology Makes Its Object (New York: Columbia University Press, 1983); and Adam Kuper, The Invention of Primitive Society: Transformations of Illusion (London: Routledge, 1998). 24. Carol Jones, “The New Territories Inheritance Law: Colonization and the Elites,” in Women in Hong Kong, ed. Veronica Pearson and Benjamin K. P. Leung (Hong Kong: Oxford University Press, 1995), 167–92; Ellen R. Judd, Gender and Power in Rural North China (Stanford, Calif.: Stanford University Press, 1994); Denzi Kandiyoti, “Bargaining with Patriarchy,” in The Women, Gender and Development Reader, ed. Nalini Visvanathan,

Notes to the Introduction

25.

26.

27. 28.

29.

30.

31.

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Lynn Duggan, Laurie Nisonoff, and Nan Wiegersma (London: Zed, 1997), 86–92; Elizabeth Sinn, “Chinese Patriarchy and the Protection of Women in 19th Century Hong Kong,” in Women and Chinese Patriarchy: Submission, Servitude and Escape, ed. Maria Jaschok and Suzanne Miers (London: Zed, 1994); and Margery Wolf, Women and the Family in Rural Taiwan (Stanford, Calif.: Stanford University Press, 1972). Elisabeth Croll, Changing Identities of Chinese Women: Rhetoric, Experience and Self-perception in Twentieth-Century China (London: Hong Kong University Press, 1995); Gail Hershatter, “The Subaltern Talks Back: Reflections on Subaltern Theory and Chinese History,” positions: east asia cultures critique 1, no. 1 (1993): 103–30; Bobby Siu, Women of China: Imperialism and Women’s Resistance 1900–1949 (London: Zed Press, 1982); Margery Wolf, Revolution Postponed: Women in Contemporary China (Stanford, Calif.: Stanford University Press, 1985); Margery Wolf, “Chinese Women: Old Skill in a New Context,” in Women, Culture, and Society, ed. Michelle Zimbalist Rosaldo and Louise Lamphere (Stanford, Calif.: Stanford University Press, 1974), 157–72; and Margery Wolf and Roxane Witke, eds., Women in Chinese Society (Stanford, Calif.: Stanford University Press, 1975). Martyn Hammersley and Paul Atkinson, Ethnography: Principles in Practice (London: Tavistock, 1983); John Van Maanen, “An End to Innocence: The Ethnography of Ethnography,” in Representation in Ethnography, ed. John Van Maanen (Thousand Oaks, Calif.: Sage, 1995), 1–35; and Kirsten Hastrup and Peter Hervik, eds., Social Experience and Anthropological Knowledge (London: Routledge, 1994). John Van Maanen, Tales of the Field: On Writing Ethnography (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1988). For examples, see Fei Hsiao Tung, Earthbound China: A Study of Rural Economy in Yunnan (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1947); Potter, Capitalism and the Chinese Peasant; Wolf, Women and the Family in Rural Taiwan; Cohen, House United, House Divided; Helen F. Siu, Agents and Victims in South China: Accomplices in Rural Revolution (New Haven, Conn.: Yale University Press, 1989); Judd, Gender and Power in Rural North China; Jun Jing, The Temple of Memories: History, Power, and Morality in a Chinese Village (Stanford, Calif.: Stanford University Press, 1996); and Hok Bun Ku, Moral Politics in a South Chinese Village: Responsibility, Reciprocity, and Resistance (New York: Rowman & Littlefield, 2003). Yan Yunxiang, Private Life under Socialism: Love, Intimacy, and Family Change in a Chinese Village, 1949–1999 (Stanford, Calif.: Stanford University Press, 2003). William G. Tierney, “Undaunted Courage: Life History and the Postmodern Challenge,” in Handbook of Qualitative Research, 2nd ed., ed. Norman K. Denzin and Yvonne S. Lincoln (London: Sage, 2000), 537–53. V. Spike Peterson and Anne Sisson Runyan, Global Gender Issues (Oxford: Westview Press, 1993) , ch. 3; and Patricia Jeffery, Roger Jeffery, and Andrew Lyon, Labour Pains and Labour Powers: Women and Childbearing in India (London: Zed, 1989).

162

Notes to Chapter One

32. Mills, The Sociological Imagination. 33. David Arnold and Stuart Blackburn, “Introduction: Life Histories in India,” in Telling Lives in India: Biography, Autobiography, and Life History, ed. David Arnold and Stuart Blackburn (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2004), 1–28; and Kirin Narayan, “‘Honor Is Honor, After All’: Silence and Speech in the Life Stories of Women in Kangra, NorthWest India,” in Telling Lives in India: Biography, Autobiography, and Life History, ed. David Arnold and Stuart Blackburn (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2004), 227–51. 34. James Clifford, “Introduction: Partial Truths,” in Writing Culture: The Poetics and Politics of Ethnography, ed. James Clifford and George E. Marcus (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1986), 1–26; and Clifford Geertz, The Interpretation of Cultures: Selected Essays (New York: Basic, 1973). 35. Pat Caplan, “Introduction 2,” in Gendered Fields: Women, Men and Ethnography, ed. Diane Bell, Pat Caplan, and Wazir Jahan Karim (London: Routledge, 1993), 19–27. 36. Bell, Caplan, and Karim, Gendered Fields; Anthony P. Cohen, Self Consciousness: An Alternative Anthropology of Identity (London: Routledge, 1994); Rosanna Hertz, ed., Reflexivity & Voice (London: Sage, 1997); and Charlotte Aull Davies, Reflexive Ethnography: A Guide to Researching Selves and Others (London: Routledge, 1999). 37. Cohen, Self Consciousness, 4. 38. Ferdinand Tonnies, Community and Soceity (Gemeinschaft and gesellschaft) (London: Transaction, 1993). 39. Wolf, Women and the Family in Rural Taiwan. 40. In the official Chinese kinship model, dajin is a specific kin term to refer to one’s mother’s brother’s wife. However, in the practical kinship model, my research indicates that dajin is a general kin term used by people to refer to one’s kinswomen who had two generations senior than him or her in the clan. 41. The term “indigenous inhabitant” is an official one. It refers to the predominant villagers who had their ancestors living in the villages in the New Territories on or before July 1, 1898. The term “nonindigenous inhabitant” refers to all the latecomers who had no ancestors living at the villages in the New Territories on or before July 1, 1898. The latecomers are usually the immigrants from Hong Kong city. The predominant Dengs in the village usually called them waixingren (other-surnamed people).

NOTES TO CHAPTER ONE 1. Luo Zhufeng, ed., Hanyu Da Zidian (A big Chinese dictionary) (Hong Kong: Sanlian Shuduan, 1993), 1625. 2. Raymond William, Keywords: A Vocabulary of Culture and Society (London: Fontana Press, 1988), 318–20.

Notes to Chapter One

163

3. Eric Hobsbawm and Terrance Ranger, eds., The Invention of Tradition (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1983). 4. Anthony D. Smith, The Concept of Social Change: A Critique of the Functionalist Theory of Social Change (London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1973); Johannes Fabian, Time and the Other: How Anthropology Makes Its Object (New York: Columbia University Press, 1983); Goran Therborn, “‘Modernization’ Discourse, Their Limitations, and Their Alternatives,” in Paradigms of Social Change: Modernization, Development, Transformation, Evolution, ed. Waltraud Schelkle, Wolf-Hagen Krauth, Martin Kohli, and Georg Elwert (New York: Campus Verlag, 2000), 49–72; and Malcolm Waters, “General Commentary: The Meaning of Modernity,” in Modernity: Critical Concepts, ed. Malcolm Waters (London: Routledge, 1999), 1: xi–xxiii. 5. Hosea Ballou Morse, The International Relations of the Chinese Empire: The Period of Conflict 1834–1860 (Hong Kong: Kelly and Walsh, 1910), 641–43. 6. Peter Wesley-Smith, Unequal Treaty 1898–1997: China, Britain and Hong Kong’s New Territories (Hong Kong: Oxford University Press, 1980); and Liu Runhe, Xinjie Jianshi (A brief history of the New Territories) (Hong Kong: San Lian Shu Dian, 1999). 7. The statistical figures came from the official census data from the first colonial report of the New Territories by Steward Lockhart in 1899. However, the figure for the villages was a temporary and incomplete one with great variation in the later colonial reports of the New Territories. For instance, British colonizers in their second colonial report of the New Territories in 1900 updated this figure to 597. When they introduced the village representative system into the New Territories in the postwar period, they further updated this figure to 651 and fixed this amount into their rural administration system specifically for the indigenous Chinese communities in the New Territories. 8. Hugh D. R. Baker, “The Five Great Clans of the New Territories,” Journal of the Hong Kong Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society 6 (1966): 25–47; Hok-pang Sung, “Legends and Stories of the New Territories: Kam Tin,” Journal of the Hong Kong Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society 13 (1973): 111–29; Hok-pang Sung, “Legends and Stories of the New Territories: Kam Tin (1935–38),” Journal of the Hong Kong Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society 14 (1974): 160–85; and Xiao Guojian, Xinjie Wudajiazu (The Five Great Clans of the New Territories) (Hong Kong: Xiandai Jiaoyu Yanjiushe Youxiangongsi, 1996). 9. Peter Wesley-Smith, “The Kam Tin Gates,” Journal of the Hong Kong Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society 13 (1973): 41–43. 10. Fung shui literally means “wind” and “water” and, by implication, physical setting or geometry. There is a common Chinese belief that some specific physical patterns, topographies, or arrangements bring good luck such as wealth or health to people. If they are changed or damaged, the well-being of people will decline. For further discussion on the importance

164

11.

12.

13.

14.

15. 16.

Notes to Chapter One of fung shui in Chinese life, see James Hayes, “Movement of Villages on Lantau Island for Fung Shui Reasons,” Journal of the Hong Kong Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society 3 (1963): 143–44; James Hayes, “Removal of Villages for Fung Shui Reasons: Another Example from Lantau Island,” Journal of the Hong Kong Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society 9 (1969): 156–58; James Hayes, “Graves in a Chinese Landscape,” in The Rural Communities of Hong Kong: Studies and Themes, ed. James Hayes (Hong Kong: Oxford University Press, 1983), 137–45; James Hayes, “Geomancy and the Village,” in The Rural Communities of Hong Kong: Studies and Themes, ed. James Hayes (Hong Kong: Oxford University Press, 1983), 146–52; and Hugh D. R. Baker, “Burial, Geomancy and Ancestor Worship,” in Aspects of Social Organization in The New Territories, ed. Hong Kong Branch of Royal Asiatic Society (Hong Kong: Cathay Press, 1964), 36–39. For the official documents related to this historical event, see Hong Kong Government, “Despatches and Other Papers Relating to the Extension of the Colony of Hongkong,” in Papers Laid before the Legislative Council of Hong Kong, comp. Steward Lockhart (Hong Kong: Hong Kong Government Printer, 1899), 511–639. For a more detailed historical account, see Peter Wesley-Smith, Unequal Treaty 1898–1997: China, Britain and Hong Kong’s New Territories (Hong Kong: Oxford University Press, 1980), 45–67. Nicholas B. Dirks, ed., Colonialism and Culture (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1992); Mark Moberg, “Continuity under Colonial Rule: The Alcadle System and the Garifuna in Belize, 1858–1969,” Ethnohistory 39, no. 1 (1992): 1–19; and Jan Nederveen Pieterse and Bhikhu Parekh, eds., The Decolonization of Imagination: Culture, Knowledge and Power (London: Zed, 1995). Sara Berry, “Hegemony on a Shoestring: Indirect Rule and Access to Agricultural Land,” Africa 62, no. 3 (1992): 327–55; and Terrance Ranger, “The Invention of Tradition in Colonial Africa,” in The Invention of Tradition, ed. Eric Hobsbawm and Terrance Ranger (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1983), 211–62. Moberg, “Continuity under Colonial Rule”; John T. Friedman, “Making Politics, Making History: Chiefship and the Post-apartheid State in Namibia,” Journal of Southern African Studies 31, no. 1 (2005): 23–50; and D. A. Washbrook, “Law, State and Agrarian Society in Colonial India,” Modern Asian Studies 15 (1981): 649–721. Hong Kong Government, “Despatches and Other Papers Relating to the Extension of the Colony of Hongkong,” 532. Howard G. H. Nelson, “British Administration in the New Territories of Hong Kong and Its Effects on Chinese Social Organization” (paper presented at the London-Cornell Project for East and Southeast Studies Conference, Adele en Haut, France, August 24–30, 1969); and Allen Chun, “Policing Society: The ‘Rational Practice’ of British Colonial Land Administration in the New Territories of Hong Kong c. 1900,” Journal of Historical Sociology 3, no. 4 (1990): 401–21.

Notes to Chapter One

165

17. Hong Kong Government, “New Territories Land Ordinance,” Government Gazette, no. 3 (1905): 8. 18. Hong Kong Government, “New Territories Land Ordinance,” 8–9. 19. New Territories Ordinance, Law of Hong Kong 97 (1910). 20. Nelson, “British Administration in the New Territories of Hong Kong”; and Chun, “Policing Society.” 21. Ng Wai Man, “ Village Revitalisation/Disintegration: An Assessment of Suburbanisation, Land Administration and Small House Development in the New Territories”(Ph. D. diss., University of Hong Kong, 1996). 22. Norman John Miner, The Government and Politics of Hong Kong (Hong Kong: Oxford University Press, 1975) 23. Liu, Xinjie Jianshi. 24. Miner, The Government and Politics of Hong Kong; Liu, Xinjie Jianshi; Lam Cheong-yee Eric, “An Assessment of the Role of Heung Yeek Kuk in the Formulation of Rural Politics in the New Territories” (Ph. D. diss., University of Hong Kong, 1986); Lee Ming Kwan, “The Evolution of the Heung Yee Kuk as a Political Institution,” in From Village to City: Studies in the Traditional Roots of Hong Kong Society, ed. David Faure, James Hayes, and Alan Birch (Hong Kong: Centre of Asian Studies, University of Hong Kong, 1984); and Kuan Hsin-chi and Lau Siu-kai, Development and the Resuscitation of Rural Leadership in Hong Kong: The Case of NeoIndirect-Rule, Occasional Paper no. 81 (Hong Kong: Social Research Centre, Chinese University of Hong Kong, 1979). 25. Moberg, “Continuity under Colonial Rule”; and Friedman, “Making Politics, Making History.” 26. Carol Jones, “The New Territories Inheritance Law: Colonization and the Elites,” in Women in Hong Kong, ed. Veronica Pearson and Benjamin K. P. Leung (Hong Kong: Oxford University Press, 1995), 167–92. 27. Philip Snow, The Fall of Hong Kong: Britain, China and the Japanese Occupation (New Haven, Conn.: Yale University Press, 2003); and Xie Yongguang, Xianggang Lunxian (The fall of Hong Kong) (Hong Kong: Sheng Wu Yin Shuguan, 1995). 28. District Office, Annual Report on the New Territories (Hong Kong: Hong Kong Government Printer, 1959–1960), 1. 29. Robin McLaren, Britain’s Record in Hong Kong (London: Royal Institute of International Affairs, 1997); Thomas Nicholas, Democracy Denied: Identity, Civil Society and Illiberal Democracy in Hong Kong. (Sydney: Ashgate, 1999); and Yang Yuanhua, Bao Bingzhong, and Shen Jishi, Xianggang: Cong Bei Gezhan Dao Hugui (Hong Kong: From being ceded to reunification) (Fuzhou: Fujian Renmin Chubanshe, 1997). 30. For the full version of the Joint Declaration in English, see McLaren, Britain’s Record in Hong Kong, 58–60; in Chinese, see Yang, Bao, and Shen, Xianggang, 166–68. 31. McLaren, Britain’s Record in Hong Kong; Nicholas, Democracy Denied; and Yang, Bao, and Shen, Xianggang. 32. Ibid.

166

Notes to Chapter Two

NOTES TO CHAPTER TWO 1. Allen Chun, Unstructuring Chinese Society: The Fictions of Colonial Practice and the Changing Realities of “Land” in the New Territories of Hong Kong (Amsterdam: Harwood Academic, 2000); Rubie S. Watson, Inequality among Brothers: Class and Kinship in South China (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1985); Stephen W. K. Chiu and Ho-fung Hung, The Colonial State and Rural Protest in Hong Kong (Hong Kong: Hong Kong Institute of Asia-Pacific Studies, Chinese University Press, 1997); Allen Chun, “Policing Society: The ‘Rational Practice’ of British Colonial Land Administration in the New Territories of Hong Kong c. 1900,” Journal of Historical Sociology 3, no. 4 (1990): 401–21; and Howard G. H. Nelson, “British Administration in the New Territories of Hong Kong and Its Effects on Chinese Social Organization” (paper presented at the London-Cornell Project for East and Southeast Studies Conference, Adele en Haut, France, August 24–30, 1969). 2. Their genealogy shows that the eleven Dengs’ villages in Fu Mei Au were established at different times. Their earliest one was developed from the late Yuan Dynasty (1271–1368). Their latest one was developed from the late Qing Dynasty (1644–1911). Accordingly, this Da Shu village was founded about four hundred years after the earliest one and about one hundred years before the latest one. 3. In Fu Mei Au, ethnographic information indicates that the largest Dengs’ village possesses over a hundred or so houses, whereas the smallest one contains about ten houses. 4. Hong Kong Government, “Despatches and Other Papers Relating to the Extension of the Colony of Hongkong,” in Papers Laid before the Legislative Council of Hong Kong, comp. Steward Lockhart (Hong Kong: Hong Kong Government Printer, 1899), 6. 5. Antiquities and Monuments Office, Hong Kong Government, Lung Yeuk Tau Heritage Trail, leaflet (Hong Kong: Antiquities and Monuments Office, Hong Kong Government Printer, 1999), 8. 6. Ibid., 14. 7. Ibid., 24. 8. In order to keep the direct sense of the people’s voices, the quotations I have abstracted from their speeches for the ethnographic discussion in this book will have as few editing revisions as possible. Some of the important native Chinese idioms and terms also will be literally translated into English but with necessary explanatory notes added. 9. Alvin Rabushka, The Changing Face of Hong Kong (Washington, D.C.: American Enterprise Institute for Public Policy Research, 1973); Jon Woronoff, Hong Kong: Capitalist Paradise (Hong Kong: Heinemann Asia, 1980); and Yang Qi, Xinggang Gailun (An introduction to Hong Kong) (Hong Kong: Sanlian Shudian, 1990). 10. Please refer to chapter 1 for details. 11. Maurice Freedman, Lineage Organization in Southeastern China (London: Athlone Press, 1958); Maurice Freedman, Chinese Lineage and Society:

Notes to Chapter Three

12.

13. 14.

15. 16. 17.

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Fukien and Kwangtung (London: Athlone Press, 1966); Jack M. Potter, “The Structure of Rural Society in the New Territories,” in Hong Kong: A Society in Transition, ed. Ian Charles Jarvie (London: Routledge, 1969), 3–28; and Ronald Ng, “Culture and Society of a Hakka Community on Lantau Island, Hong Kong,” in Hong Kong: A Society in Transition, ed. Ian Charles Jarvie (London: Routledge, 1969), 53–63. Allen Chun, Unstructuring Chinese Society; Watson, Inequality among Brothers; Chiu and Hung, The Colonial State and Rural Protest in Hong Kong; and Chun, “Policing Society.” Burton Pasternak, Kinship and Community in Two Chinese Villages (Stanford, Calif.: Stanford University Press, 1972), 159. Fernand Braudal, Civilization and Capitalism 15th–18th Century, vol. 1 of The Structure of Everyday Life (New York: Harper & Row, 1981), 562. Hugh D. R. Baker, “The Five Great Clans of the New Territories,” Journal of the Hong Kong Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society 6 (1968): 25–47. Watson, Inequality among Brothers. Chun, Unstructuring Chinese Society; Chiu and Hung, The Colonial State and Rural Protest in Hong Kong; Chun, “Policing Society”; and Nelson, “British Administration in the New Territories of Hong Kong and Its Effects on Chinese Social Organization.”

NOTES TO CHAPTER THREE 1. In addition to my primary ethnographic findings, the materials used in this section are drawn from both classical and contemporary Chinese references, viz., Xu Sheng, Shuowen Jiezi (Explaining simple and analyzing compound characters), ed. Xu Xuan (Beijing: Zhonghuo Shuju, 1985); Duan Yucai, Shuowen Jiezi Zhi (Commentary on explaining simple and analyzing compound characters), ed. Wang Yuanfen (Taipei: Lantai Shuju, 1973); Zhang Yushu, ed., Xinxiu Kanxi Zidian (New edition of Kanxi’s dictionary) (Taipei: Qi Ye Shuju, 1982); Gao Shufan, ed., Zhongzheng Xing Yin Yi Zhonghe Tai Zidian (A comprehensive dictionary of Chinese characters’ shape, pronunciation, and meaning) (Taipei: ChongZheng Shuju, 1981); Ding Yicheng, Zhang Guoqing, and Cui Congqing, eds., Chang Yong Zi Yin Xing Yi Yong (The pronunciation, shape, meaning, and application of the usual characters) (Beijing: Guofang Gongye Chubanshe, 1998); and Xu Zhongshu, ed., Hanyu Da Zidian (A big Chinese dictionary) (Hubei, China: Hubei Ci Shu Chubanshe, 1990). I also use references from Allen Chun’s cultural anthropological research into these three Chinese genealogical terms (see Allen Chun, Unstructuring Chinese Society: The Fictions of Colonial Practice and the Changing Realities of “Land” in the New Territories of Hong Kong [Amsterdam: Harwood Academic Publishers, 2000], 179–294), and Lei Hanqing’s etymological studies of the word zu (see Lei Hanqing, Shuowen “Shi Bu” Zi yu Sheling Jisi Kao [A study of the worship for God and the characters with the root of “shi bu” in explaining simple

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2. 3.

4. 5.

6.

7.

8. 9.

10.

11.

and analyzing compound characters] [Chengdu, China: Bushu Shushe, 2000], 188–98). In order to come close to the way people usually speak, the following discussion in this chapter continues to use taigong instead of zu. Usually, this title is composed of two Chinese words and makes it like “X X Tang” in practice. Real examples will be given in the following ethnographic account. Please refer to chapter 1 for details. The genealogy that the Dengs in Da Shu village kept for themselves starts its record from a common ancestor who first arrived at the New Territories during the Northern Song Dynasty (A.D. 960–1127). It also details an unbroken lineal succession from generation to generation up to now. In total, it covers about a thousand years. The information kept in their genealogy provides various essential details regarding their lineage development. Not only the cycle of each generation but also the biographies of important ancestors are documented. During my fieldwork period, I was told that they normally collect the number of male births and deaths in their lineage for each year and formally append the new data onto their genealogy about every ten years, and mark this with a large-scale collective ceremony. Jack Potter has made a useful distinction between “lineage” and “clan.” He defines a lineage as a group of people who are descended in one line from a common ancestor and have close agnatic corporation and solidarity, whereas a clan refers to the general whole of a group of lineages sharing the same blood relationship but having less solidarity and being noncorporate in character (Jack M. Potter, “The Structure of Rural Society in the New Territories,” in Hong Kong: A Society in Transition, ed. Ian Charles Jarvie [London: Routledge, 1969], 3–28). This study follows this distinction. David Faure, The Structure of Chinese Rural Society: Lineage and Village in the Eastern New Territories, Hong Kong (Hong Kong: Oxford University Press, 1986), 7–8. Ellen R. Judd, Gender and Power in Rural North China (Stanford, Calif.: Stanford University Press, 1994), 580. This mixed method of distribution of communal fortune in the Chinese lineage practice is not normal. In later chapters, I will show that the rather prevailing method remains one in which all is divided by branch. In the official term, they should be called “village representatives,” but the more usual local practice is to call them “village leaders.” I prefer using this much more common local term and continue to use it in this book. Among the five new participants in the open competition for the three positions of village leaders, one of them was another existing village leader who, like Deng Tuocheng, sought to continue his term of office, whilst the rest were all fresh participants without any previous experience. As far as the remaining incumbent among the three village leaders was concerned, he did not wish to continue his term of office.

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12. Maurice Freedman, Lineage Organization in Southeastern China (London: Athlone Press, 1958); Maurice Freedman, Chinese Lineage and Society: Fukien and Kwangtung (London: Athlone Press, 1966); Hugh D. R. Baker, “The Five Great Clans of the New Territories,” Journal of the Hong Kong Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society 6 (1966): 25–47; Hugh D. R. Baker, A Chinese Lineage Village: Sheung Shui (Stanford, Calif.: Stanford University Press); Jack M. Potter, “Land and Lineage in Traditional China,” in Family and Kinship in Chinese Society, ed. Maurice Freedman (Stanford, Calif.: Stanford University Press, 1970), 121–38; and James L. Watson, Emigration and the Chinese Lineage: The Mans in Hong Kong and London (Berkeley: University of California Press,1975). 13. Burton Pasternak, Kinship and Community in Two Chinese Villages (Stanford, Calif.: Stanford University Press, 1972). 14. Chun, Unstructuring Chinese Society, 1. 15. Carol Jones, “The New Territories Inheritance Law: Colonization and the Elites,” in Women in Hong Kong, ed. Veronica Pearson and Benjamin K. P. Leung (Hong Kong: Oxford University Press, 1995), 167–92. 16. Ibid.

NOTES TO CHAPTER FOUR 1. Barbara Katz Rothman, “Beyond Mothers and Fathers: Ideology in a Patriarchal Society,” in Mothering: Ideology, Experience, and Agency, ed. Evelyn Nakano Glenn, Grace Chang, and Linda Rennie Forcey (New York: Routledge, 1994), 139–57; and Deniz Kandiyoti, “Bargaining with Patriarchy,” in The Women, Gender and Development Reader, ed. Malini Visvanathan, Lynn Duggan, Laurie Nisonoff, and Nan Wiegersma (London: Zed, 1997), 86–92. 2. In Chinese, there are several terms that can be rendered as “household.” In everyday speech, Da Shu villagers usually refer to their household as fang or jia. In existing literatures, it is commonly rendered as hu, hu kou, or zhu ku. For example, see Ellen R. Judd, Gender and Power in Rural North China (Stanford, Calif.: Stanford University Press,1994); Jun Jing, The Temple of Memories: History, Power, and Morality in a Chinese Village (Stanford, Calif.: Stanford University Press, 1996); and Hok Bu Ku, Moral Politics in a South Chinese Village: Responsibility, Reciprocity and Resistance (New York: Rowman & Littlefield, 2003). 3. Hugh D. R. Baker, Chinese Family and Kinship (New York: Columbia University Press, 1979); Myron L. Cohen, House United, House Divided: The Chinese Family in Taiwan (New York: Columbia University Press, 1976); Myron L. Cohen, “Developmental Process in Chinese Domestic Group,” in Family and Kinship in Chinese Society, ed. Maurice Freedman (Stanford, Calif.: Stanford University Press, 1970), 21–38; and She Yunchu and He Quoliang, “Xianggang Jiating ji Jiating Yanjiu Hequhecong: Cong Chuantong, Jing Xiandai, Dao Houxiandai” (Hong Kong family and

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4.

5.

6.

7.

8.

9.

10.

11.

family studies: From traditional, to modern and to postmodern), Hong Kong Journal of Sociology 2 (2001): 85–133. I was told in Da Shu village that arranged marriages were a normal marital practice in the past, and some old people in the village like Ma Yuerong experienced such marriages. Existing literature that provided us with good demonstrations of this idea is abundant. But Cohen’s monographs remain the highly readable and useful ones. See Cohen, House United, House Divided; and Cohen, “Developmental Process in Chinese Domestic Group.” On this subject matter, Margery Wolf has a strikingly substantial and insightful discussion in her intricate ethnographic account from rural Taiwan. See Margery Wolf, Women and Family in Rural Taiwan (Stanford, Calif.: Stanford University Press, 1972). It has to be noted that guoji is not a necessary practice according to rules required by Chinese lineage organizations. A man as a brother with sons holds no institutional responsibility to give his sonless brother one of his sons. The rise of this practice is totally dependent upon the private interhousehold deals of the people. But, it is out of the scope of my direct observation to see how people made their interhousehold deals to transfer a son from one household to another. In a conceptual sense, it is worth pointing out an essential difference of guoji from other fictive kinship practices. Guoji is not simply an adoption of children to compensate for the household incompleteness. It is a peculiar fictive kinship practice to obtain a paternal successor and to maintain the consanguinity at the same time. It is also a peculiar self-help practice of the lineage organization to keep their agnatic branches going as some of their agnatic branches have failed to propagate a natural-born son. This is why the adopted child must be a boy who comes from the same clan. But, on actual occasions, some of the sonless branches merely manage to obtain a son from a simple adoption instead of guoji when they have worked to make their branches extendable (please refer to figure 4.2 for details). For a more detailed discussion of Chinese patriarchy, particularly the complex process of how it historically became a prevailing jural and official order in the practice of Chinese life, please refer to the classical work by Qu Tongzu, Zhongguo Falu Yu Zhongguo Shehui (Chinese law and Chinese society) (Hong Kong: Longmen Shudian, 1967). It has been well documented that a Chinese household can develop into a group of households but retain some important economic linkages (e.g., a common budget) and power relationships (e.g., being subjected to the same senior member) with close residence in the same place. See Cohen, House United, House Divided; Elisabeth Croll, “New Peasant Family Forms in Rural China,” Journal of Peasant Studies 4, no. 14 (1987): 469–99; and Judd, Gender and Power in Rural North China. The discussion I provide here is by drawing on this existing view and putting it into a more gender-specific one. In the past, it was not a rare practice for Chinese households to keep a child bride for their sons. As far as Da Shu village is concerned, local information shows that there were at least five child brides in the last one to

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two generations. But, all of them now have run away except the case that I discuss in this chapter. 12. Kandiyoti, “Bargaining with Patriarchy,” 89.

NOTES TO CHAPTER FIVE 1. For discussions of the notion of “patriarchal bargaining,” see, for example, Bina Agarwal, “‘Bargaining’ and Gender Relations: Within and beyond the Household,” Feminist Economics 3, no. 1 (1997): 1–15; Naila Kabeer, “Jumping to Conclusion? Struggle over Meaning and Method in the Study of Household Economics,” in Feminist Vision of Development: Gender, Analysis and Policy, ed. Cecile Jackson and Ruth Pearson (New York: Routledge, 1998), 91–107; Deniz Kandiyoti, “Bargaining with Patriarchy,” in The Women, Gender and Development Reader, ed. Malini Visvanathan, Lynn Duggan, Laurie Nisonoff, and Nan Wiegersma (London: Zed, 1997), 86–92; and Deniz Kandiyoti, “Gender, Power and Contestation: ‘Rethinking Bargaining with Patriarchy,’” in Feminist Vision of Development: Gender, Analysis and Policy, ed. Cecile Jackson and Ruth Pearson (New York: Routledge,1998), 135–52. 2. Michel de Certeau, The Practice of Everyday Life (London: University of California Press, 1984). 3. Margery Wolf, Women and the Family in Rural Taiwan (Stanford, Calif.: Stanford University Press, 1972). 4. According to the rule in the village, their failure to attend the communal meeting only meant losing out on the opportunities to speak and vote in the proceedings. They still maintain their right to the sharing of the communal goods and usually work to obtain their shares through the help of their closest kin in the lineage. This is also a very real reason why most of them still keep some connection with their natal village through occasional phone calls, visiting, meeting up with their fellows, and so on. 5. The collective building project would not use up all of the planned $10,000,000 communal savings from their collective land sale. My field research indicated that the current cost for building an ordinary village house in the year 2000 was about HK$1 million or so. The communal expenditure for their building project therefore should be in the vicinity of about HK$4 to 5 million. They did not have any other planned communal investment as far as the remaining communal savings was concerned. They simply intended to bank it with interest and use it as public funds. 6. For the background to the rise of Block Crown Lease, please refer to chapter 1. It should be noted that the Block Crown Lease as the very first colonial land record of the New Territories has caused numerous disputes for its frequent failures to meet with actual reality. Many existing studies have examined this critical issue in the colonial New Territories. For example, see Howard G. H. Nelson, “British Administration in the New Territories of Hong Kong and Its Effects on Chinese Social Organization” (paper presented at the London-Cornell Project for East and Southeast Studies Conference, Adele en Haut, France, August 24–30,

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Notes to Chapter Five 1969); Peter Wesley-Smith, Unequal Treaty 1898–1997: China, Britain and Hong Kong’s New Territories (Hong Kong: Oxford University Press, 1980); Edgar Wickberg, “Another Look at Land and Lineage in the New Territories,” Journal of the Hong Kong Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society 21 (1981): 24–42; Allen Chun, “Policing Society: The ‘Rational Practice’ of British Colonial Land Administration in the New Territories of Hong Kong c. 1900,” Journal of Historical Sociology 3, no. 4 (1990): 401–21; and Allen Chun, Unstructuring Chinese Society: The Fictions of Colonial Practice and the Changing Realities of “Land” in the New Territories of Hong Kong (Amsterdam: Harwood Academic, 2000). The Da Shu villagers indicated that it was not the first time that they had a land dispute because of bureaucratic problems from the Block Crown Lease, but the present one was the most extensive and significant one. 7. In order to check out the case, I went to check the Block Crown Lease for details. I identified that its geographical cadastral map truthfully showed the same area as the Mu De Tang’s claim, that is, about 100,000 square feet. However, its descriptive cadastral list showed the area of their ancestral land as only about 33,000 square feet. Deng Quiyi told me that he had contacted the District Office concerning this issue. The District Office also recognized this mistake. But, they needed time to check up the pass documents, and there were numerous procedures to go through to correct the official land record. Even as the District Office did eventually rectify the information for this lineage, they might still lose their collective deal with the developer. The formal agreement with the developer included a temporary term that the exchange should be entirely clear in one year’s time. In other words, the collective land deal with the developer could not be completed if he was unwilling to wait for the official correction of the information in the land record. 8. For a further clarification of the background to this research finding, it should be noted that the Mu De Tang’s people in 2001 had already completed the sale of land six months ago. The following two research findings also were taken from the people’s recollections after the events in question. As far as the original proposal for the proceeds from this sale, they have kept aside a sum of $10,000,000 and plan to undertake a building project in the village. However, their real proceeds are actually in the vicinity of $32,000,000. The distribution and division of the monies have also been reduced. The sum now available for division starts from $22,000,000. The actual share for the four main branches, thereby the amount available for these four main branches to make their internal distribution, subsequently becomes $5,500,000 each (i.e., $22,000,000 / 4). Taking it all collectively, most of the smaller branches within these four main branches can now obtain only about $900,000 to $1,800,000. 9. The people in the Mu De Tang held no connection with other developers except this one. They also commonly recognized that it would be extremely hard to reach another developer who would be interested in their ancestral land. This developer, therefore, remained the only buyer of their ancestral land in the market.

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10. The information from their discussion of Deng Baocai indicated that both his natural mother and stepmother had been officially entitled to the family estates and properties for a long time. In the common understanding of people, it is a recognized practice for a woman to inherit her husband’s family estates and property if her husband passes away. Her husband’s family estates and property also can be held for the rest of her life. On the contrary, it is uncommon for a son to inherit his deceased father’s family estates and property if his mother is still alive. Even if it is the case, it usually comes from his mother’s decision. Two more cases regarding this female land right in the local Chinese community will be given in the later discussion in this chapter and the discussion in the next chapter. 11. See chapter 4 for more background. 12. For example, Michelle Zimbalist Rosaldo, “Women, Culture, and Society: A Theoretical Overview,” in Women, Culture, and Society, ed. Michelle Zimbalist Rosaldo and Louise Lamphere (Stanford, Calif.: Stanford University, 1974), 17–41; Peggy R. Sanday, “Female Status in the Public Domain,” in Rosaldo and Lamphere, Women, Culture, and Society,189–206; and V. Spike Peterson and Anne Sisson Runyan, Global Gender Issues (Oxford: Westview Press, 1993). 13. Chandra Talpade Mohanty, “Cartographies of Struggle: Third World Women and the Politics of Feminism,” in Third World Women and The Politics of Feminism, ed. Chandra Talpade Mohanty, Ann Russo, and Lourdes Torres (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1991), 1–47; Patricia Jeffery, Roger Jeffery, and Andrew Lyon, Labour Pains and Labour Powers: Women and Childbearing in India (London: Zed, 1989); Myra Max Ferree, “Beyond Separate Spheres: Feminist and Family Research,” Journal of Marriage and the Family 52 (1990): 866–84; and Linda Thompson and Alexis Walker, “Gender in Families: Women and Men in Marriage, Work, and Parenthood,” Journal of Marriage and the Family 51 (1989): 845–71. 14. Gail Hershatter, “The Subaltern Talks Back: Reflections on Subaltern Theory and Chinese History,” positions: east asia cultures critique 1, no. 1 (1993): 103–30. 15. Elisabeth Croll, Changing Identities of Chinese Women: Rhetoric, Experience and Self-perception in Twentieth-Century China (London: Hong Kong University Press, 1995).

NOTES TO CHAPTER SIX 1. It was in 1987 when I firstly learned about Deng Amei’s case from a casual conversation with some Da Shu villagers and started my study of her land dispute with Ajin. In 1994, I carried out some taped interviews with Deng Amei; her second daughter, Zhou Shaofen; and other fellow participants in the village. During this preliminary research period, my focus was upon Deng Amei’s side and how her fellow villagers viewed her case. Since I started to undertake my doctoral research in 1997, I extended the scope of my study and collected the official land records, some legal documents, and

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2.

3. 4. 5. 6. 7.

8. 9. 10.

11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18.

other existing literatures (e.g., newspaper information, archival materials, and academic research) related to her case. When in 1998 I moved into the village for direct ethnographic observation, I continued to interview more villagers for their views toward her case and made inquiries into the story from Ajin’s side. As my observation of her case proceeded across different points of time, the ethnographic materials used in this chapter are unlike those in the previous chapters, which mainly come from my fieldwork period during 1998–2000. Accordingly, I will provide notes to specify the temporality of the essential ethnographic materials used in this chapter. The sources of the secondary materials and published information used in this chapter will be specified with notes, too. Margery Wolf, “Chinese Women: Old Skill in a New Context,” in Women, Culture, and Society, ed. Michelle Zimbalist Rosaldo and Louise Lamphere (Stanford, Calif.: Stanford University, 1974), 157–72. Deng Amei, conversation with author, 22 October 1994. Ibid. One picul is equal to 50 kilograms. Ibid. I will make more discussion of the complex lineal relation between Deng Amei’s household and Ajin’s household. But, here, it has to be made clear that Ajin’s three sons are Deng Amei’s deceased father’s closest kinsmen in their lineage. The rule of family succession Ajin invoked here precisely was the patrilineal inheritance practice which required a sonless household to pass its estate to its closest kinsman’s household which has a son in the lineage. Zhou Shaofen, conversation with author, 5 November 1994. Deng Amei, interview, 10 November 1994. There is a common Chinese practice to call the servant girl meici. Literally, meici means “little girl.” The mei in meici truly is the same as the mei in Deng Amei’s name. However, there is an equally common practice among people, the illiterate in particular, to simply name their daughter mei without specific elaborate distinction. In other words, even if a female is called “Mei,” it does not necessarily indicate that she is a meici (servant girl) or, above all, that she has no blood relationship with her parents. At most, it indicates some inferiority of that female in a local sense for being simply called a “girl” and thereby almost being nameless. However, Ajin kept such an argument to undermine Deng Amei’s stance in the event. Some fellow participants in the village had taken her argument to negate Deng Amei’s claim to her family estates, too. (See the following discussion in the main text.) Deng Amei, interview, 10 November 1994. Ibid. Ma Yuerong, conversation with author, 5 July 1999. Uncle Xiang, conversation with author, 16 May 1999. Ajin, open speech, 20 October 1999. Liang Sanjie, conversation with author, 3 August 1999. Deng Lichang, conversation with author, 15 July 1994. Deng Guanghua, open speech, 10 October 1994.

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19. Deng Amei had shown me the deeds which confirmed her claim that the owner of the two farms is her mother. Accordingly, Deng Amei failed to understand why Ajin could obtain them in both formal and legal ways. She guessed that Ajin might claim to have lost the deeds when she applied to the government for her sons’ acquisition of her mother’s land. 20. Deng Amei, interview, 10 November 1994. 21. Ibid. 22. For details, see New Territories Ordinance, Laws of Hong Kong 97 (1984): 4–8. 23. Hong Kong Legislative Council, Report of the Meetings 1993/1994, pt. 2 (Hong Kong: Hong Kong Legislative Council, 1993), 1040–42. 24. Carol Jones, “The New Territories Inheritance Law: Colonization and the Elites,” in Women in Hong Kong, ed. Veronica Pearson and Benjamin K. P. Leung (Hong Kong: Oxford University Press, 1995), 167–92. 25. Zhang Yuefeng, Jiang Qiongzhu, and Liu Yanfen, Cong Zhe Yi Tian Kaishi: Zhengqu Pingdeng Jicheng Quan Zilai Ce (Start from this day: Information of the fight for equal inheritance right) (Hong Kong: Funu Tuanti Zhengqu Pingdeng Jecheng Quan Lianxi, 1995), 126. 26. Hong Kong Legislative Council, Report of the Meetings 1993/1994, pt. 6 (Hong Kong: Hong Kong Legislative Council, 1993), 4539–89. 27. Jones, “The New Territories Inheritance Law.” 28. “Yuanze Zhi De Bu Daibiao Chuantong Zhi Shi” (Having the principle of gender equality does not imply the loss of tradition) Ming Po, 31 March 1994. 29. In the official terminology, “rural land” in the New Territories refers to the “old schedule lot,” “village lot,” “small house,” and “similar rural holding.” For their legal definitions, see The New Territories Leases (Extension) Ordinance, Laws of Hong Kong, 150. But, it has to be noted that the “rural land” is exactly where most indigenous (male) inhabitants in the New Territories hold their individual or collective landed properties as far as its social and practical meaning is concerned. 30. Zhang, Jiang, and Liu, Cong Zhe Yi Tian Kaishi, 126–28. 31. “Xiuding Tiaoli Wu Yingmou, Peng Dingkang: Shunying Nannu Pingdeng” (No conspiracy behind the amendment bill, Chris Patten: Just for gender equality) Xiandai Ribao, 30 March 1994. 32. For details, please refer to chapter 1. 33. For details, see “Villagers in Land Right Protest,” South China Morning Post, 22 March 1994; “Liu Guochang: Yuabjumin Funu Meiyou Bumen” (Liu Guochang: Indigenous women have no discontent), Ming Po, 31 March 1994; “Xinjie Xiangyiju Fandui Guangfu Zhichi ‘Xiuli’” (The Heung Yee Kuk in the New Territories object to Hong Kong government’s support to the amendment), Wen Hui Bao, 3 March 1994; and “Fandui Gengai Xinjie Jimin Chuantong Xisu” (Objection to the change of the tradition and custom in the New Territories), Jingji Ribao, 24 June 1994. 34. “Jijin Lifa Shu Buzhi, Xisu Gaige dong Jianjin” (Radical legal reform is irrational; the change of custom should be step by step), Huaqiao RiBao, 11 May 1994.

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35. Ibid. 36. “Xiangyiju Chengli Baojiawezu Kangzheng Zongbu, Cu Gangfu Guangfan Diaocha Yuanjumin Yixiang” (Heung Yee Kuk established the Communal Headquarters to Struggle in the Protection of Families and the Defense of Clan, pressing Hong Kong government to conduct full survey of indigenous inhabitants’ opinion), Ming Po, 26 March 1994. 37. “Shubai Xiangjian Jingzuo Fan Xiuding Yu Lieu Futuan Chongtu” (Hundreds of villagers objecting the amendment had conflicts with the women groups outside the Legislative Council), Jingji Ribao, 23 June 1994. 38. “Villages Pledge to Fight for Tradition,” Eastern Express, 18 April 1994; and “Dangju Rao Qisu Xinjie Yuanjumin, Liu Huangfa Danxin Hui Ji Minfen” (If the government sues the indigenous inhabitants, Liu Huangfa is afraid that it will led to massive grievances), Da Gong Bao, 25 April 1994. 39. Heung Yee Kuk, “Nanwang De Shiyue, Nanwang De Guanghui, Nanwang De Cantong” (Unforgettable years, unforgettable glories, unforgettable sadness), Xiangyiju Qishi Zhounian Jinian Tekan, special issue for the seventieth anniversary of Heung Yee Kuk, (1996): 78–79; and Zhang, Jiang, and Liu, Cong Zhe Yi Tian Kaishi, 50. 40. “Inheritance Protest Ends in Violence,” South China Morning Post, 23 March 1994; “Qianming Yuanjumin Juwai Shiwei Tuoma Shuda Zhichi Xiuli Funu” (A thousand indigenous inhabitants swore and punched against the women for the amendment during their demonstration outside Legislative Council), Huaqiao Ribao, 23 March 1994; and “Bao Xinjie Chuantong liju Mengquan Shiwei Yiyuan Yuxi” (Legislator being beaten by the protestors for the tradition in the New Territories at the doorway of Legislative Council), Ming Po, 23 March 1994. 41. Please refer to chapter 1. 42. “Rural Visit Passes off Peacefully,” South China Morning Post, 27 March 1994. 43. Zhang, Jiang, and Liu, Cong Zhe Yi Tian Kaishi. 44. “Rural Visit Passes off Peacefully”; and “Cunmin Kangyi Zhima Yiyuan Xiaxiang Youjingwuxian” (Villagers demonstrated and swore against legislators’ visit of their place without real threats), Ming Po, 27 March 1994. 45. “Lu Gonghui Jianzhi Xiuding ti an Guangaoban Pingji Bizhongjiuqing” (Christina Loh maintains the amendment bill and sensitively sends it to the Chinese office of Hong Kong and Macau to avoid criticism), Xiandai Ribao, 30 March 1994. 46. Hong Kong Legislative Council, Report of the Meetings 1993/1994, pt. 6, 4539–89. 47. Deng Amei, interview, 27 December 1998. 48. Ibid. 49. Da Shu villagers, open discussion, 4 March 1999. 50. Ibid. 51. Deng Amei, interview, 10 November 1994. 52. Liang Sanjie, interview, 3 August 1999. 53. In 1985, Chun firstly coined this notion of “land is to live” and used it as the topic of his doctoral thesis in contrast with Walter Neale’s work Land Is to

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177

Rule. See Allen Chun, “Land Is to Live: A Study of the Concept of Tsu in a Hakka Chinese Village, New Territories, Hong Kong” (Ph.D. diss., University of Chicago, 1985); and Walter Neale, “Land Is to Rule,” in Land Control and Social Structure in Indian History, ed. R. E. Frykenberg (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1969), 3–15. However, his discussion of this notion in his doctoral thesis was brief. He seldom continued to develop it in his later studies, too. Even though he once again mentioned this notion by using it as a subtopic in one of his recent studies, he still simply showed this notion without enough explicit illustrations; see Allen Chun, Unstructuring Chinese Society: The Fictions of Colonial Practice and the Changing Realities of “Land” in the New Territories of Hong Kong (Amsterdam: Harwood Academic, 2000), 273. Therefore, I find it necessary to try to extend this important notion from his initial discussion with my ethnographic materials for a better understanding of the substantial meaning of land in the practice of people. 54. Karl Marx, “The Eighteenth Brumaire of Louis Bonaparte,” in The MarxEngels Reader, ed. Robert C. Tucker (New York: W. W. Norton), 437. 55. Deng Amei, interview, 8 November 1998.

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178

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“Lu Gonghui Jianzhi Xiuding ti an Guangaoban Pingji Bizhongjiuqing” (Christina Loh maintains the Amendment Bill and sensitively sends it to the Chinese Office of Hong Kong and Macau to avoid criticism). Xiandai Ribao, 30 March 1994. “Qianming Yuanjumin Juwai Shiwei Tuoma Shuda Zhichi Xiuli Funu” (A thousand indigenous inhabitants swore and punched against the women for the amendment during their demonstration outside legislative council). Huaqiao Ribao, 23 March 1994. “Rural Visit Passes Off Peacefully.” South China Morning Post, 27 March 1994. “Shubai Xiangjian Jingzuo Fan Xiuding Yu Lieu Futuan Chongtu” (Hundreds of villagers objecting the amendment had conflicts with the women’s groups outside the Legislative Council). Jingji Ribao, 23 June 1994. “Villagers in Land Right Protest.” South China Morning Post, 22 March 1994. “Villages Pledge to Fight for Tradition.” Eastern Express, 18 April 1994. “Xiangyiju Chengli Baojiawezu Kangzheng Zongbu, Cu Gangfu Guangfan Diaocha Yuanjumin Yixiang” (Heung Yee Kuk established the Communal Headquarters to Struggle in the Protection of Families and the Defense of Clan, pressing Hong Kong government to conduct full survey of indigenous inhabitants’ opinion). Ming Po, 26 March 1994. “Xinjie Xiangyiju Fandui Guangfu Zhichi ‘Xiuli’” (The Heung Yee Kuk in the New Territories object to Hong Kong government’s support of the amendment). Wen Hui Bao, 3 March 1994. “Xiuding Tiaoli Wu Yingmou, Peng Dingkang: Shunying Nannu Pingdeng” (No conspiracy behind the Amendment Bill, Chris Patten: Just for gender equality). Xiandai Ribao, 30 March 1994. “Yuanze Zhi De Bu Daibiao Chuantong Zhi Shi” (Having the principle of gender equality does not imply the loss of tradition). Ming Po, 31 March 1994.

VISUAL REFERENCE Hong Kong Broadcast Consortium. The Hong Kong Handover Celebrations. Hong Kong: Hong Kong Broadcast Consortium, 1997. Videocassette.

Index

A A branch of scum, 93 Adoption, 87, 90, 131 Afen, 94, Africa, 5, 22 Agency, 146; See also agent active agency, 115, 121, 123 female agency, 16–17, 108–109, 121–122 human agency, 6 Agent, 96, 103, 109, 139–140, 143, 147; See also agency active agent, 105 agent’s perspective, 7 female agent, 141 Agnatic basis, 68, 81, 146 Agnatic branches, 67, 73, 87, 90, 111–112 Agnatic connection, 65 Agnatic corporations, 3, 5, 65, 67–77, 79–80, 146 in Liang Guang Tang, 71–73 in Mu De Tang,13, 68–69, 149 in Ri An Tang, 70 in Zhen Hong Tang, 70; Agnatically androcentric rule, 78 Agriculture, 26 agricultural background, 27 agricultural condition, 55 agricultural cultivation, 56 agricultural items, 27 agricultural jobs, 117 agricultural past, 50 agricultural practices, 53, 60, 145 agricultural produce, 50 agricultural production, 48, 49, 55 agricultural sector, 38–39 agricultural society, 134

agricultural tasks, 50, 83, 124 agricultural work, 48 agricultural workers, 54 agriculture-based life, 50, 56 Ajin, 123, 125–132, 137–142; A-keung, 15, Albert Memmi, 149 Aliang’s grandson, 10 Allen Chun, 4, 79, 80, 141 Ancestor, 45, 68, 70, 90, 105, 135; See also eponymous ancestor; patrilineal ancestor; common ancestor; meaning of, 65–66 of Da Shu village, 49 of Fu Mei Au Xiang, 49 of local family, 49, 125 of Mu De Tang, 87–90 Ancestral altar, 106, 127, 132 Ancestral business, 14, 74, 93, 106 Ancestral cults, 4, 70 Ancestral estates, 3, 13, 57, 60, 72, 79, 146, 149 Ancestral fortunes, 92 Ancestral goods, 84 Ancestral hall, 3, 10, 70, 93, 127, 136 in Fu Mei Au, 41–43, 71, 73, 75, 78, 115 in Da Shu village, 42, 44, 109, 111, 113 Ancestral home, 84, 95 Ancestral house, 46, 56, 85, 97, 125, 131, 141–142 Ancestral inheritance, 116 Ancestral land, 21, 23–24, 56, 75, 121 in Liang Guang Tang, 49, 73 in local family, 92 in Mu De Tang, 113, 115 Ancestral landed business, 101

189

190 Ancestral property, 86, 93, 95, 105, 130 Ancestral worships, 42, 65, 70, 72, 105 Androcentric rule, 26, 78, 145, 146; See also agnatically androcentric rule Androcentric leadership, 80 Anthony Cohen, 8 Anthropology, 4–5, 8 Anticolonialists, 140 Antonio Gramsci, 141 Article 22 of the Hong Kong Bill of Human Rights, 133 Article 26 of the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights, 133 Asia, 1, 5, 22 Aying’s son, 10, 11

B Bailiff, 131 Basic Law, 29, 136, 139, 148 Bequeathing property to the male heir; See Bequeathing to men not women Bequeathing to men not women, 130, 132, 135 Biao xiongdizimei, 66 Big taigong; See Fu Mei Au taigong Block Crown Lease, 23, 111 Bozhongliang, 85–86, 115 Britain, 11, 28–29, 50, 54, 100 British colonial domination, 5, 53 British colonial era, 41, 47, 65, 79, 144–145 British colonial government, 8, 52, 55, 80, 82, 144; See also British colonial rule; colonial British state; colonial government; colonial state British colonial legacy, 2, 5–6, 149 British colonial occupation, 28 British colonial practice, 10, 147 British colonial rule: in Hong Kong, 1, 132 in the New Territories, 2–3, 16, 23, 41, 60, 68, 78–80, 139, 144–145 See also British colonial government; colonial British state; colonial government; colonial state British colonial rulers, 143, 147 British colonial ruling practices, 2 British colonizers, 2, 6, 20–21, 25, 49, 135 British conspiracy, 136 Burton Pasternak, 4, 59, 79

C C. Wright Mills, 3, 7

Index Captain Elliot, 20 Cecil Clementi, 26 Central America, 22 Child bride, 97, 98, 116 China, 1–2, 6, 20–21, 23, 28–29, 36, 49, 97, 132, 147–148 Mainland China, 2, 7, 29, 52, 55 North China, 6 Southeastern China, 4 South China, 5 China’s colony, 147 Chinese Constitution, 29, 136, 139 Chinese cultural legacy, 5–6 Chinese customary law, 133–134 Chinese customary rule, 9 Chinese government, 20, 136, 147–149 Chinese law and custom, 23 Chinese national regime, 28, 132, 136 Chinese national rule, 29 Chinese News Agency, 136 Chinese officials, 136, 141 Chinese socialist regime, 148 Chinese villagers, 21–27, 36 Chinese villages, 21, 25 Chiu Stephen, W. K. and Hung Ho-fung, 60 Chris Patten, 1, 29, 36, 134–136, 141, 143 Christina Loh; See Legislator Loh, Christopher Patten; See Chris Patten Chuantong; See Tradition Civilizing mission, 143–144 Clan activities, 115, Clan dispersion, 42 Clan feuds, 45 Clan leaders, 26, 78 Clan meetings, 14 Clan members, 52, 58 Clan organizations, 48 Clan settlement, 134 Clan society, 134–135 Clan, 6, 8, 23, 41, 49–50, 87, 90, 112, 135 in Da Shu village, 68, 95, 112 five great clans, 4–5, 21, 60 in Fu Mei Au, 15, 41, 42, 71–77, 91–93, 101, 109 Clan-based society; See clan society Class, 60, 107 class background, 12 class boundary, 58 class difference, 58, 60 upper class, 57 Collective ownership, 23, 67, 113 Colonial administration, 36, 75

Index Colonial British state, 140; See also British colonial government; British colonial rule; colonial government; colonial state Colonial discourse, 10, 105 Colonial encounter, 79, 80, 144, 146 Colonial government, 25, 27, 53, 80, 134, 135; See also British colonial government; colonial British state; colonial government; colonial state Colonial indigenous policy, 148 Colonial law, 136 Colonial legalization, 6 Colonial situation, 17, 123, 150 Colonial state, 115, 138–140 See also British colonial government; British colonial rule; colonial British state; colonial government Colonial-cum-patriarchal order, 80, 146, Colonialism, 143, 148–149 British colonialism, 5–6, 16, 21–22, 26, 28, 41, 60, 79, 143, 147 enlightened colonialism, 5 Western colonialism, 5, 149 Colonization 20–21 Common ancestor, 68; See also ancestor; eponymous ancestor; patrilineal ancestor Communal ancestral land and estate, 23–24 Communal discussions, 115 Communal estates and goods, 66, 68, 71–74 Communal Headquarters to Struggle in the Protection of families and the Defense of Clan, The, 135 Communal land, 111 Communal meetings, 76, 78, 109–110, 113, 121 Community, 4, 11, 13, 47, 50, 52–53, 55, 57–58, 73, 81, 83, 91–92, 94, 96–97, 103, 109, 113, 115–116, 118, 121, 128–129, 137, 139, 146–147, 149–150 Chinese community, 4 community change, 59 community life, 2, 16, 60, 80, 97, 107, 123 community practice, 121 emigrants’ communities, 5 Hakka community, 4 homogenous community, 139 living community, 102

191 local community, 6, 94, 109, 140 patriarchal community, 10 rural community, 6 village community, 6, 16, 59–60, 79, 138 women’s community, 105, 108 Conjugal life, 83; See also marital life Context-specific analysis, 3–5,145 Context-specific discussion; See context-specific analysis Context-specific study, See context-specific analysis Convention of the Extension of Hong Kong, 21 Croll Elisabeth, 121 Crops, 27, 38–39, 48, 50, 53, 57, 99 Cultivation, 24, 48–49, 53, 55–56, 99, 124 Culture, 22 cultural right in law, 118 cultural right in living, 118 cultural-sensitivity, 22 Customary right, 23

D Da Shu village, 41, 79–80, 81 demography of, 47–48 early history of, 49–54 geography of, 41–47 lineage organizations of, 68–71, 88–89 local stories of, 82–83, 85–86, 90–91, 93–95, 98, 105–109, 115–116, 118, 123, 128, 137, 145, 150 picture of, 61–64 political practices in, 76 postwar transformation of, 54–59 Daily life, 105 daily practice, 11 daily routine, 97, 108 Dajin, 11–12, David Faure, 4, 70 Decent groups, 3, 71 Decolonization, 149 Democratic consultation, 134 Deng Amei, 17, 117, 123–132, 136–142 Deng Bafang, 71–72 Deng Baocai, 56, 116–117 Deng Baofu, 93–94 Deng Changhu, 118 Deng Chunli, 57 Deng clan, 41, 58, 132 Deng Deming, 90–91 Deng Feiyang, 54 Deng Ganlin, 92

192 Deng Guanghua, 130–131 Deng Hanjie, 91 Deng Lichang, 130 Deng Quidao, 93 Deng Quiren, 58, 95–96, 108–109, 113 Deng Quiyi, 111, 113–114 Deng Rixin, 93 Deng Tuocheng, 76–77 Deng Xinxing, 68–69 Deng Yinfu, 49, 51–52, 72–74 Dengs, 42, 79 in Da Shu village, 12, 42–43, 46–49, 53–58, 67–71, 76, 80, 87–88 in Fu Mei Au, 41, 65, 72, 75 Development, 136, 138, 149 in Da Shu village, 55, 71; in Hong Kong, 60, 143 in lineages, 68, 73, 87, 111 in New Territories 22, 25, 27, 79–80, 149 industrial development, 144 landed development, 27 postwar development, 27 urban development, 28 Dingquans, 56, 58–59, 101, 149 District Office, 25, 57–58, 75, 131 District officers, 25 Diku, 24 Dipi, 24 Domestic domain; See domestic sphere Domestic field; See domestic sphere Domestic levels; See domestic sphere Domestic realm; See domestic sphere; Domestic sphere, 6, 17, 67, 81, 92–93, 97, 121–122 domestic arena, 95 domestic authority, 94 domestic business, 106–107 domestic chores, 96 domestic contingencies and complexities, 102 domestic crisis, 120 domestic dispute, 9, 57, 60, 108–109 domestic duties, 108 domestic dynamics, 102 domestic economic needs, 50 domestic expectations, 94 domestic hardships, 85 domestic histories, 86 domestic incompleteness, 100 domestic investment, 120 domestic issues, 108

Index domestic life, 2, 81–82, 103 domestic order, 116, 118 domestic political strength, 108 domestic politics, 105 domestic practices, 92, 97, 122 domestic privilege and power, 102 domestic relationship, 108 domestic requirements, 86, 146 domestic routines, 105–106 domestic situations, 122, 146 domestic stories, 97 domestic tasks, 50, 120 domestic tragedies, 52 Double burden, 85 Dual-village representative policy, 149

E Economic transformation, 28, 60, 144 Emotion, 7, 52, 91, 115, 119, 142; See also emotional significance Emotional significance, 83, 141; See also emotion Emotionality; See emotion Eponymous ancestor, 66, 88–89; See also ancestor; patrilineal ancestor; common Ethnography, 6 ethnographic account, 4, 102, 145 ethnographic case, 91 ethnographic discussions, 47, 121 ethnographic field, 10 ethnographic fieldwork, 10 ethnographic findings; See ethnographic materials ethnographic information; See ethnographic materials ethnographic investigations, 12, 115, 129 ethnographic investigator, 11 ethnographic materials; 54–56, 92 Existential right to land, 141

F Family, 6, 9, 12, 23, 53–54, 57, 81, 83–84, 89, 92–93, 102, 120, 123–127, 129, 132, 135, 138, 146 family disgrace, 58 family duties, 9 family estates, 117, 123, 125, 127, 131 family land, 49 family life, 6 family line, 94

Index family living, 55 family meetings, 11 family property division, 9 family property, 6, 17, 57–58, 76, 81, 106, 119, 130, 132 family succession, 60, 146 female headed-family, 95 peasant family, 52 uterine family, 10 Fang, 65, 67–68, 71, 88–89 Farm, 50, 83, 85, 90, 98, 101, 124–125, 131, 142 farm labor, 123 farmlands, 27, 42–43, 55–56, 64, 72, 75, 117, 127, 131, 138, 141 farmwork, 55 peasant farmers, 83 tenant farmers, 49 Female dynamics, 121 Female interest, 141 Female voters, 77 Feminist critiques, 6 Feminists, 136, 141 Ferdinand Tonnies, 10 Fernand Braudel, 59 Fictive father, 90 Fictive kinship practice, 3 Fictive son, 90, 116, 135 Fictive uncle, 90 Four Families, 68–69, 90, 112 Frantz Fanon, 149 Fu Mei Au Xiang; See Fu Mei Au Fu Mei Au, 7, 14–15, 41–43, 46, 48–49, 51–52, 65, 71–73, 75–78, 109, 115 Full-time breadwinner, 82 Full-time mother, 82, 105 Full-time students, 82 Fung Shui, 21 Fuquan; See Patriarchy

G Gail Hershatter, 121 Gender, 6, 8, 82, 121, 123, 141 gender bias, 121 gender difference, 2, 85 gender division of labor, 85 gender dynamics, 146 gender equality, 115, 117, 133–136, 139, 147 gender features, 17 gender hierarchy, 86

193 gender issues, 10, 16 gender politics, 6 gender practices, 139 gender relations, 2, 7, 83 gender role, 146 gender studies, 6 gendered British colonialism, 16 gender-specific conduct, 16, 81 Genealogy, 42, 68, 71, 87–90, 92 genealogical development, 68 genealogical framework, 79 genealogical history, 68, 71, 86 genealogical linkage, 70 genealogical tree, 90 genealogy record, 14 General Law of Hong Kong, 134, 139 Guoci, 78 Guoji, 87, 89–90, 125, 127

H Haus, 21 Hegemony, 22, 143–144 hegemonic domination, 16 hegemonic forces, 17, 150 Henry May, 22 Heung Yee Kuk Ordinance, 26 Heung Yee Kuk, 26–27, 134–136, 139, 141 Higher-order village; See Xiang Historical memories, 60, 139 History, 5, 7, 11, 14–15, 17, 28, 45, 51, 65, 123, 141, 143, 150 colonial history, 22, 122, 141 contemporary history, 143 life history, 7 local history, 51 oral history, 53 social history, 79, 141 world history, 50 Holland; See Netherlands Hong Kong, 2, 5–6, 8–9, 15, 17, 22, 25–26, 41, 47, 51–54, 57, 60, 123, 134, 136, 143, 145, 147–150 economic development of, 20, 27–28, 30–37, 53, 55, 60, 111, 143– 145 geographic map of, 43 hand over of, 1, 20, 132, 136 history of, 20–21, 26, 50–52, 122, 141 Sino-British negotiation of, 28–29, 36, 132 Hong Kong Government, 132–134, 136, 141

194 Hong Kong Island, 4, 27–28 Hong Kong people, 136, 138 Hong Kong population, 133 Hong Kong Special Administrative Region, 29, 148 Household head, 14, 56, 86, 94, 109, 121 male household head, 69, 81, 109 female household head, 110 Household, 2, 4, 9,14,16,50,67, 78,80, 81– 82, 84–86, 91–92, 94–98, 100, 102–103, 105–106, 108–109, 117, 121, 123–124, 146–147 conjugal household, 98 extended family household, 83 female-headed household, 16, 94 household background, 129 household burden, 83 household business, 97 household chores, 9 household collapse, 92 household dispute, 15 household duties, 107 household earner, 82 household economy, 50, 82 household estates, 116 household fortune, 56, 116 household harmony, 92 household income, 49, 84 household livelihood, 50, 83 household lives, 84, 102, 106 household members, 57, 92–93 , 96, 100, 108 household needs, 83 household property, 15, 101, 120 household reunion, 101 household routines, 92 household shame, 84 household task, 105–106 household unit, 107 household work, 81, 85, 96 in Da Shu village, 12, 14, 47–49, 50, 52,55, 57, 59–60, 70, 81–85, 92–101, 106, 109–110, 116, 119, 123, 128 in Fui Mei Au, 50, 52,73 landless household, 49 natal household, 91, 98 nuclear household, 82–8 single-couple household, 83 single-member household, 83 single-parent household, 83 stem household, 83

Index stephousehold, 116 tenant-household, 58 well-to-do household, 97, 106, 116 Housing authority, 133 Huang Hongfa, 134 Huang Jieying, 105–106, 110 Huang Shu Min, 5 Huge Baker, 4, 50, 82 Huge, D. R. Baker; See Huge Baker Identity, 140 Inalienability, 74, 120 Indigenous inhabitants, 12, 24, 27, 134–136, 148 indigenous Dengs, 56, 58 indigenous groups, 41 indigenous people; 143 indigenous population, 132 indigenous residents, 41, 60 Indigenous tradition, 22 indigenous Chinese customs and tradition, 2 indigenous custom and tradition, 136 Indigenous village, 2, 47, 141, 149 Indigenous women, 134, 136 Indirect rule, 2, 5–6, 10, 16, 123, 132, 139– 140, 143–144, 148 adoption of, 20–22 practices of, 22, 24, 67, 75 reflections upon, 22, 28, 60, 144 resistance to, 133–134 Indivisible principle, 74 Industry, 26, 28 industrial wage laborers, 54 industrialization, 41, 55 Infertility, 87, 90, 146 Inheritance, 71, 93, 119–120, 130–131, 140 inheritance laws, 133 inheritance practice, 133–134 inheritance right, 15, 123, 134 landed inheritance, 112 male-only inheritance practice, 134 Internal segmentation, 65, 68, 71

J Jack Potter, 4, 59 James Watson 5, Jan Nederveen Pieterse and Bhikhu Parekh, 144 Japanese occupation, 26, 51–52, 60 Japanese imperial expansion and intrusions, 50

Index Japanese military rule, 51 Japanese regime, 26 Japanese rule, 52 Japanese war, 52, 116 Job, 50, 54–55, 78, 85, 93, 100, 117 Jones Carol, 79–80,

K Kam Tin, 21 Karl Marx, 141 Kinship, 10–11, 65–67 kinship discourse, 66 kinship linkage, 11 kinship practice, 87 kinship relations, 90 Kinsmen, 56, 58, 68–69, 72–78, 87, 92, 128 powerful kinsmen, 3, 41, 56 sonless kinsmen, 87 Kinswoman, 11 Kowloon peninsula; See Kowloon Kowloon, 12, 20, 27–28, 30, 32, 34–37 Kun Lung Wai, See San Wai

L Land, 2–3, 21–24, 27–28, 42, 47–50, 53, 55–58, 60, 71, 80, 110–111, 113, 128, 131–134, 141–142, 145, 148–149 collective land, 111–112 communal land, 111 dual-landlord system, 24 land affairs, 75; land business, 92, 101, 105 land deeds, 14 land disputes, 2, 24, 58, 136–138, 141 land entitlement, 67 land interest, 16, 22, 25, 57, 80 land issue, 132, 141 land legislation, 24, 68 land officer, 23 land ownership, 24, 132–133 land property, 23, 58, 116, 149 land resource, 41 Land Resumption Law, 75 land resumption, 27 land rights, 26, 56–57 land survey, 23 land taxes, 57 land tenure, 5, 23, 25 landed advantage, 60 landed business; See land business landed corporation, 16, 146

195 landed interest; See land interest landed investment, 56 landed privileges, 80 landed property; See land property landed wealth, 80 landlords, 49, 58, 60, 131 landowners, 23–24 New Territories Land (Exemption) Bill, 133–134 New Territories Land Ordinance, 23 Lebenswelt, 10 Legislation, 25, 66; See also land legislation Legal disputes, 133, 149 Legal exemption, 133, Legal reform, 132, Legislative council, 29, 36, 133–136, 141 Legislator Loh, 133–139, 141 Liang Guang Tang, 71–74, 76 Liang Sanjie, 97–101, 115, 117 Liao Jinzhi, 117–119,122 Liao Yindi, 117, Liaos, 68 Liberation, 139, 148 Life story approach, 6–7 Life story, 7, 10, 17, 55, 97, Lin Yuee, 58 Lineage, 3–4, 65, 67–68, 70, 79, 88–90, 111, 113–114, 118, 128–130, 144 Chinese lineage organization, 2–5, 16, 24, 65, 139, 145 Chinese lineages; See Chinese Lineage organization Dengs’ lineage organization, 13, 65, 88 Dengs’ lineage; See Dengs’ lineage organization lineage affairs, 97, 101 lineage composition, 70–71 lineage group, 67 lineage lines, 69 lineage matters: See lineage affairs lineage meeting, 101, 128 lineage members, 67, 82 lineage organization, 3–5, 13, 16, 23, 70, 84 lineage practice, 65, 69–70, 79–80, 87 lineage rule, 73 lineage society, 4, 41 lineage-village, 71 Lius, 21 Livelihood, 2, 48, 50, 53, 82–83, 91, 141, 145

196 livelihood practice, 6 livelihood change, 53 livelihood strategies, 54, 82 Lo Wai, 45 Local elites, 22 Local resistance, 6, 21, 36 Local stories, 16, 50 Lord Palmerston, 20

M Ma Wat Wai, 45 Ma Yuerong, 83–84, 86 Macau, 97 Male heir, 67, 86, 90, 130–131, 139, 146, Male incompetence, 16, 86 Male-only election, 26 Male-only rule, 75 Mans, 21 Margery Wolf, 10, 108, 123 Marital life, 83, 124; See also conjugal life Marjorie Topley, 4 Market, 48, 50, 124 market centers, 28 market exchange, 53 market price, 111 market town, 9, 13, 43, 72, 107 market value, 27, 80, 145 marketplace, 48, 106 property market, 56, 111, 120 rental market, 56 Marriage, 12, 57, 71, 83, 86–87, 97, 116, 124, 135 arranged marriage, 83 ghost marriage, 116 Married-in-woman, 95, 118, 128–129 Married-out-daughters, 48, 128–130 Material life, 48, 53, 60 Matriarchal authority, 94–95 Matriarchal power, 96 Maurice Freedman (Freedman), 3–5, 59, 139 Meici, 127, Men, 10, 12–13, 17, 24, 51, 53–54, 56, 59, 71, 77–78, 81–83, 85–86, 90–97, 102, 105, 107, 109, 113–115, 118–119, 121, 129, 132, 134–135, 146 Chinese men, 81 elderly men, 14 Indigenous men, 135 senior men, 91 sonless men, 86 village men, 13, 51, 54, 94, 137

Index Mengjin; See Liao Jinzhi Metropolitanization, 55 Michel de Certeau, 107 Migration, 41, 53, 60 Mikhail Bakhtin, 20 Ming Dynasty, 21 Modernity, 19 Ms. Fool; See Sha Da Po Mu De Tang, 68–70, 86–90, 109–114 Myron Cohen, 82

N Narrative, 3, 10, 86 National People’s Congress, 36 Natural will, 10 Netherlands, 48, 54–55, 128, 130–131 New Kowloon; See Kowloon New Territories: colonial New Territories, 10, 17, 20, 22, 139–140, 143, 145, 147, 149; postcolonial New Territories, 139, 149 New Territories Agriculture, Industry and Commerce Research Association, The, 26 New Territories Ordinance, The, 23, 132– 134, 136 New towns, 27 Nicholas Dirks, 144 No.8 house, 119–120 Nongovernmental organization, 136 Nonindigenous inhabitants, 12 Nonindigenous villagers, 149 Noninterventionist policy, 28

O Occupation, 50, 54, 60, 82, 100 One country, two systems, 29, 147 Opium, 49 Orientalist discourse, 5 Orphan, 90 Other-surnamed people, 58,

P Pan Shan, 4 Pangs, 21 Patriarchy, 82, 102, 105, 140 Chinese patriarchal power, 78 Chinese patriarchal practices, 2 Chinese patriarchs, 6, 65, 80, 140, 147 Chinese patriarchy, 16, 79, 139, 140, 145 classic patriarchy, 102

Index definition of, 81 local patriarchy, 140 patriarchal authority, 86, 92, 146 patriarchal bargaining, 105 patriarchal bias, 148 patriarchal colonial discourse, 105 patriarchal colonial order, 122, 14 patriarchal community, 10 patriarchal constitutions, 102 patriarchal discourse, 79, 86, 91, 94, 102, 122, 140, 145–147 patriarchal domestic order, 118 patriarchal domestic practice, 97 patriarchal domination, 36 patriarchal exclusion, 121 patriarchal hierarchy, 109 patriarchal institutions, 121, 145, 148 patriarchal norm, 115 patriarchal order, 86, 90, 102, 121, 150 patriarchal political bias, 133 patriarchal power structure, 118 patriarchal power, 96 patriarchal privileges, 93 patriarchal realm, 16–17 patriarchal rule, 90, 94, 108–109,121– 122, 146 patriarchal suppression, 123 patriarchal systems, 17 patriarchal values and institutions, 102 patriarchal values and practices, 6 Patriliny, 102; patrilineal ancestor, 66; See also ancestor; eponymous ancestor; common patrilineal and patriarchal hierarchy, 109 patrilineal heir, 87 patrilineal line, 87 patrilineal linkage, 65, 68, 71 patrilineal male descendants, 24 patrilineal order, 87, 90, 135 patrilineal practice, 25 patrilineal succession, 6, 9, 67, 79, 81, 90, 131 Patrilocality, 6, 81, 102 Perpetual ownership, 24 Personal autonomy, 105 Piaolaicha, 129 Pierre Bourdieu and Loic J. D. Wacquant, 143 Political capital, 105 Political parties, 136 Politics, 16, 76

197 bottom-up politics, 6, 17 colonial politics, 26 domestic politics, 105 gender politics, 6 local politics, 65, 75, 121 moral politics, 6 village politics, 2, 13–14 Postcolonialism, 148 postcolonial administration, 36 postcolonial Chinese government, 147–148 postcolonial Chinese state, 140 postcolonial constitution of Hong Kong, 136, 139 postcolonial Da Shu village, 148–149 postcolonial era, 147 postcolonial Hong Kong government, 45 postcolonial Hong Kong, 147 postcolonial practices, 148 postcolonial reinvention of the colonial rule, 148 postcolonial situation, 17, 148–150 postcolonial state, 138–140 Postwar generations, 56 Postwar period, 8, 53, 144 Precolonial Chinese values and practices, 144 Precolonial customs and practices, 22 Private developer, 27, 111 Private domain, 7 Private life approach, 6–7 Private practices, 7, 57 Private property, 76 Private-public divide, 7 Property dispute, 125 Provisional Legislative Council, 36 Public affairs, 42, 78, 109 Public domain; See public sphere Public election, 26, 36, 72–73, 75, 77–78 Public housing estates; See public housing Public housing, 27, 133 Public projects, 55, 60 Public sphere, 7, 17, 115, 121

Q Qing Dynasty, 42, 49, 68, 139 Qing Law Code, 67, 130–132, 139 Quan Daijin, 108–109

R Realpolitik, 6, 22, 121, 140 Rebellion, 22, 141

198 Red hair ghosts, 49 Reflexivity, 6, 105, 115 Rents, 23–24, 57, 59, 69, 75, 101, 105–106, 111, 125, 127–128, 148 rent cultivator, 57 rental earning, 58, 101 rental income, 46, 57, 69, 72, 120, 149 rental market, 56 Revolutionary mission, 148 Ri An Tang, 69–70 Ronald Ng, 4 Room for maneuver, 147, 150 Rubie Watson, 4, 60 Rumor, 13, 113, 137 Rural committees, 26 Rural Consultative Committee; See Heung Yee Kuk Rural-urban emigration, 55

S San Wai, 45 Second World War, 20, 26, 50, 90 Self-empowerment, 122 Self-other dichotomy, 8 Self-reflexive actions, 117 Sex discrimination, 133 Sexism, 115 Sexist system, 102 Sexual innuendo, 13 Sha Dai Po, 9 Shareholders, 73–74 She Yunchu and He Quoliang, 82 Sijiatou; See Four Families Sili, 23–24, 68–69, 72, 76, 111, 114 Single-surname village, 47 Sino-British Joint Declaration, 29, 136 Sinological literatures, 144–145 Sinological studies; See Sinological literatures Sinologists, 2 Small House Policy, 24, 56 Social changes, 6, 16, 150 Social network, 96, 121 Socialism, 7, 29 Socialist reforms, 2 Sociological imagination, 7 Song Dynasty, 21 Sovereignty, 29, 132, 136, 147 Spatial and temporal other, 144 Speaking out, 150 Stephen Vines, 147 Stepmother, 116–117 Steward Lockhart, 21–22, 43

Index Structural-functional interpretation, 3 Structural-functional paradigm; See structural-functional interpretation Struggle, 6, 8, 16–17, 59, 111, 116–117, 122–123, 132, 135, 138, 140– 142, 145, 150 Subject position, 7, 15 Subject-effects, 103, 122 Supra village unit, 75 Supravillage agnatic corporate, 73 Supravillage assemblies, 42 Supravillage communal meeting, 75–76, 109 Supravillage connections, 65, 71 Supravillage level, 71 Supravillage meeting; See supravillage communal meeting Supravillage public meeting, 72

T t’ong, 23 Tai Po, 21–22, 25 Taigong, 66–67, 71 Fu Mei Au Taigong; 71–73; Mu De Tang’s, 68–70, 88–89 Taigong give us pork, 84 Taigong’s business, 78 Taigong’s money, 74 Tainhou temple, 42 Talcott Parsons, 3 Tang Xiongdizimei, 66 Tang, 65–67, 69–71 Territorial right, 22 Tradition, 115, 130, 134, 136, 143 Chinese tradition, 2, 20, 28, 122–123, 125, 132, 139, 141, 145, 147–148 Chinese village tradition, 2 definition of, 19–20 indigenous tradition, 22 traditionalism, 139 Traditional Chinese Fu-mu-kuan, 25 Traditional Chinese society, 3–5, 20, 28, 144 Treaty of Nanking, 20 Treaty of Peking, 20–21 Tudi temple, 42, 44 Tung Kok Wai, 45

U Uncle Xiang, 52, 55, 83–84 Uprising, 22 Urbanization, 41

Index V

199

Village elites, 26, 141 Village leaders, 14, 51, 56, 75–78, 97, 130, 139 Village representative system, 51–52, 75 Village representatives, 26, 149; See also village leaders

women’s community, 105, 108 women’s group, 136, 141 women’s movement, 17, 122 women’s right, 123 young women, 94 World War II; See Second World War

W

X

Walled village, 45–46 War on position, 141 Weiming, 84 Weizufu, 66 Weizumu, 66 Widows, 83, 94–95 Women, 10, 12–14, 16–17, 24, 26, 51, 53–54, 56, 77–78, 80–83, 85, 91–92, 94–97, 102, 105–107, 109–110, 113–118, 121, 129, 132, 134– 135, 139–140, 145–146, 148 Chinese women, 6, 94, 106, 121–123, 146 elderly women, 11–12, 77, 97,109–110 indigenous women, 134–136 local women, 13, 16 old women; See elderly women senior women, 108 village women, 2, 13, 83, 85, 94–95, 105, 107–109, 113, 115, 117, 119, 121–122, 129, 137

Xiang, 41–42, 49, 51, 75 Xinjie Nonggongshang Yanjiu Zonghui; See New Territories Agriculture, Industry and Commerce Research Association, The Xunding, 8

Y Yan Yunxiang, 6–7

Z Zhang Arao, 58 Zhang Junsheng, 136 Zhen Hong Tang, 69–70 Zheng Axue, 95–96, 108–109 Zhou Shaofen, 125, 131, 137 Zijiren, 15 Zu, 65–66, 88–89 Zufu, 66 Zumu, 66