Villagers reluctantly say goodbye to one of Hong Kong’s last squatter settlements

HONG KONG — In a few months, Lo Yuet-ping will say goodbye to the centuries-old Hong Kong village he has called home for more than seven decades.

The village of Cha Kwo Ling in east Kowloon is full of small houses built of sheet metal and stone, as well as old granite buildings that contrast sharply with the tall buildings that dominate much of the Asian financial hub.

Lo, 72, has lived here all his life and is among about 860 households that must move under a government redevelopment plan. He said he will miss the rich history, unique culture and warm interpersonal friendliness that defined life in the village.

“I don’t want to part with anything,” said Lo, who expects to be relocated to a new district in east Kowloon.

The ongoing demolition of Cha Kwo Ling Village, set to reach completion in 2025, is wiping out one of Hong Kong’s last squatter villages, making way for social housing. The settlement saw the transformation of the former British colony from a fishing village to an industrial hub and eventually a global financial centre.

Cha Kwo Ling was originally a settlement of the Hakka people, a Han Chinese group, but over the years it became a place of influx of immigrants from mainland China, like other settler settlements in the city.

Some immigrants arrived in the city in the late 1940s and 1950s, fleeing the Chinese civil war or seeking better economic opportunities. The influx of immigrants increased Hong Kong’s population from 600,000 in 1945 to 2 million in 1950, according to a government website. Unable to afford housing, many built wooden houses in the immigrants’ settlements. In 1953, it was estimated that about 300,000 people lived in such settlements throughout the city.

Researcher Charles Fung, co-author of a book on urban squatter housing, has described how people built squatter houses as part of a “catch-me-if-you-can” game with the government during British colonial times. Fung explained that the government would not have to provide resettlement bonds to homeowners if it could tear down the structures before people moved in. That led people to cut down timber and build houses at night along hillsides, where they were hard to find, he said.

Although the structures looked vulnerable, Fung said, the villages played a key role in supporting Hong Kong’s economy. They hosted small factories and were located near industrial zones, informally supporting the city’s factory system during its time as a manufacturing center, he said.

However, the precarious nature of the estates brought risks. Fires in squatter homes were always a problem and contributed to the British colonial government relocating residents to public housing.

Officially, the housing policy is presented as relief for squatter village fire victims. But research suggests other political factors were at play, Fung said. One such factor was the British government’s desire to prevent interference from mainland China, which wanted to send a delegation to help displaced villagers after a fire in the early 1950s.

“We are now seeing the huge impact that the construction of social housing has on the landscape of Hong Kong, with people settling in different neighbourhoods and building their own lives,” he said.

In Cha Kwo Ling, Lo, a long-time villager, expressed concerns about moving to a high-rise building.

He built a lifetime of memories in the village, from being part of the Qilin dance troupe from a young age to serving on the volunteer firefighting team. He worked as a driver in the village quarry that delivered stone for the city’s main court and to neighboring Guangzhou and Southeast Asia.

“I’ve gotten used to living here,” he said.

Even after being forced to relocate due to the fires, some former residents returned to the village, maintaining ties to the community.

Teoh Bee Hua, a Malaysian woman who moved to Cha Kwo Ling after marrying a villager in 1973, continued to run her grocery store there, even though she no longer lives in the village after the fire. Teoh, who is in her 70s, recalled that she used to chat with her neighbors and have barbecues and hot pot gatherings with them, saying “those were happy days.”

She said she will close her store when it is time to move, marking the end of an era and her eventual retirement.

“There is nothing you can do. We will definitely break up. In life there are meetings and partings. Such is life,” she said.

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Associated Press news reporter Renee Tsang contributed to this report.