It’s a frosty Monday morning for Tamar Park’s strollers, who brace against the piercing chill nipping their fingers and faces. An icy breeze still lingers in the air following Hong Kong’s coldest weekend in nearly sixty years.
Fur-clad ladies and scarf-cocooned gentlemen keep their heads down as they briskly stride towards the cosy confinements of the glistening Citic Tower. They fail to notice Ng Shui-wing’s chattering, stain-speckled smile or his gentle gaze, warming even through bloodshot eyes.
Day in, day out for the past three years, Ng, 66, has held fort upon a bench at the edge of Tamar Park, Admiralty. He uses a large black umbrella, kindly donated by a random passerby, to guard his collection of English-language newspapers from thieving breezes.
A single black bin bag protects his other possessions on another seat: a small blanket and pillow provided by nearby office workers, and a broken, HKD40-harmonica from Wan Chai market.
When Ng spots his newfound friend Sarah Hardy – a 33-year-old Australian ballet teacher who moved to Hong Kong nine years ago – approaching with her dog Piper, he instantly bounds out of his seat to take her hand in his blistered grasp.
“I see him every morning when I walk my dog over to Tamar Park,” Hardy explained. “He is such a wonderfully sweet man and I have found that I look forward to seeing his smiling face every time I leave the house.”
Their friendship began around five months ago, when Ng stopped Hardy to ask about her pet. Taken in by his cheeky charisma and pitying his unfavourable situation, Hardy started bringing Ng coffees every few days on her morning route.
Then one day, when Hardy was on her way home from work a few months ago, she was tapped on the shoulder by a panting Ng, who had run after her. He proudly thrust a coffee into her hand, which he had bought using money given to him by nearby office workers.
In the weeks leading up to Christmas, Hardy gave Ng an old blue puffer coat, a Christmas cake and a scarf. Wishing to reciprocate the favour, Ng surprised Hardy one morning with half a bag of Toblerone chocolate bars. He had been given a few bags by a kind passerby, and wanted to share his stash.
Ng Shui-wing holding a wash kit given to him by Sarah Hardy
“I have never come across anyone who has so little, yet is willing to share everything he does have,” Hardy indicated. “Naturally, the coffees are on me tomorrow!”
But Ng’s generosity goes beyond sharing. At one point, he starts rummaging in the pockets of his gifted coat and eventually digs out a crumpled red lai see envelope, which he says was given to him by a police officer who works nearby.
“I’m not going to use it!” Ng assures us, insisting he will save the money so that he can return it to the original donor in case the officer needs it in the future.
It was Ng’s loyal nature that proved his downfall, apparently. Originally from Singapore, Ng moved to Hong Kong in 1978. After years of working odd jobs, he finally secured a steady position as a travel agent in 1996, a role that he kept for 10 years.
Ng says that in 2006, he was approached by a friend that owned an export company. In order to keep his business afloat, the friend claimed that he needed an extra set of hands, but that he couldn’t afford to pay for the labour.
As Ng had accumulated reasonable savings, and his friend had promised that he could live in the company building to avoid paying rent, Ng chose to support his friend. He resigned from his full-time job at the beginning of 2007.
Ng’s loyalty obscured his better judgement for the best of two years, until the unsustainability of the situation finally dawned on him. After Ng’s salary demands were met with repeated rejections, the frustrated and financially crippled man left his friend’s company in order to search for a job.
Although Ng was not forfeiting an income by quitting, he was surrendering his living quarters. Having depleted his savings in those two years, he was not in a position to pay rent either. Ng therefore resorted to sleeping on the back of a truck in Tai Po, owned by a man who wanted help with his delivery business.
When Ng wasn’t assisting the gentleman with his deliveries, he was badgering the labour department to try and help him secure a job. However, two major hiccups hindered his success: his lack of address, and lack of a bank account.
“If you don’t have an address, people won’t employ you,” Ng stated. “That’s how it works it Hong Kong.”
Luckily, the truck driver agreed to pay Ng HKD400 per day to assist with the delivery of shipping containers from Tai Po to various parts of the city. Whilst this outlet was initially sustainable, the workload gradually began to decrease, until, about four years later, Ng’s services were no longer required.
It was then, back in early 2013, that Ng found himself on the red seats in Tamar Park, and he’s been there ever since.
Ng Shui-wing, Sarah Hardy and Piper standing in front of Wing’s bench
Over Ng’s three-year fixture in the park he has gained a small pool of frequent visitors besides Hardy and the police officer. As Ng is nattering away, a local, elderly rubbish bin cleaner catches his eye.
Ng waltzes over and lands her a lingering high five. Sure enough, the woman delves inside her bulging jacket and hands over a small take-away box of red bean stew.
“I call her my ‘ga je’ [older sister],” Ng says fondly. His affection is heart-breaking given his actual family situation.
Ng relates that he was put into an orphanage at birth as his biological parents could not support all six of their children. He never saw his siblings again, he says. Fortunately, Ng was adopted by a wonderful couple only a year into his life, and was supported by them until he left Singapore at 16.
“I had a very good relationship with my foster parents,” Ng said. “I remember wanting to do everything for them.”
Ng laughs as he recalls earnestly trying to ride a bicycle when he was eight, hoping to spare his father the extra commute.
Sadly, Ng gradually lost touch with his family the longer he stayed away from home, and the less he was able to afford a trip back. Nearly eight years ago, after a particularly long period of no contact, the worried son says he reached out to a local Singaporean newspaper to try and obtain answers.
In a follow-up call a few months later, Ng was told the devastating news that both his parents had passed away within two years of each other. His father had allegedly died of a lung disorder; his mother had contracted throat cancer.
“Imagine hearing you have no family,” Ng said bluntly.
But despite his difficulties, Ng’s consistently cheery manner would have you think that he’s the best off of us all. Stroll by the Tamar benches for enlightenment.
Reader Interactions