Under the flyover at Canal road and Russell street, below the towering skyscrapers of Causeway Bay, five old ladies slam slippers against bricks, beating small papers back to the pulp they once were. They are performing a quintessential Hong Kong ritual that translates to “villain hitting” where people come to repel the figures of bad luck and wrongdoing in their lives. Vengeful mistresses, “jealous wives”, and employees looking to expel a rotten superior from the office are some of their most common clients.
Two of the older ladies performing the rituals, Leung and Aunt Yan, have set up their shrines solo. They seem to have a bit of a grudge against the other three ladies who sit together in the center of the platform. Leung and Aunt Yan independently tell me that the ladies in the center just want to get rich and that it is“no good”. “Those ladies convince people that they need all kinds of services, up to $500hkd” warns Yan, “I only ask $50hkd to hit and $50hkd to ask the Kwun Yam for good fortune, that is all that is necessary most of the time.”
Leung, who is 82, will not tell me her full name. “If I do that, my competitors”, she says, motioning towards the three ladies in a row, “may find out, and that way they can use my name to demon-hit and negatively affect my business.”
“So you really believe in the rituals?” I ask.
Leung does not directly answer me, she says that people come back to her over and over, happy with their results, so that is what matters to her. “You know, I am famous all over China for my hitting” says Leung from behind a nearly toothless smile.
Dr. Joseph Bosco, an expert on religion in Hong Kong and South China, says that Leung’s and Yan’s analysis of their work is typical of Hong Kong spirituality. “Even Hong Kong residents who consult other types of fortune tellers often go to such diviners with a mixture of skepticism and credulity and curiosity. So it is hard to talk about it as a matter of “faith.” Only Christianity and Islam focus on “belief” and “faith” as markers of belonging. Chinese and other popular religions tend to focus on efficacy, and tradition.”
According to Bosco, old ladies have been villain hitting under the flyover since the 80’s, and it wasn’t new then. This modern variation of the service has humble beginnings, “In the past, when people lived in more densely networked communities and neighborhoods, there would be people who were known to offer such services in the neighborhood, and took only donations, with no set price” says Bosco. The ladies at Canal Street serve strangers, old friends, and tourists alike.
These women clearly have a conscience about their work, and hitting for strangers complicates this. Leung has a special pair of dice that she rolls to determine whether the individual in question is actually a ‘bad person’. If they are not, and if there are no inauspicious spirits to repel, Leung will suggest a ritual to promote good luck.
While chief executive Donald Tsang was in office, it became extremely popular to ‘hit’ the chief executive. Tsang now sits in a cell in Stanley prison, serving a 20 month sentence for corruption.. Leung says she no longer will oblige requests to hit politicians, “They are public officers with important roles, I think it is not good to hit them”.
Aunt Yan exercises her conscience in a somewhat motherly way. A woman in her twenties came to Yan to ask that her manager who had ‘scolded her many times without reason’ be fired. After the second visit, he was indeed fired. The young woman returned to thank Yan near the end of the lunar year. “It is not good to be fired just before the lunar holidays, he may have a family to support” says Yan. “So I asked the young lady to light incense for Kwun Yam – one to secure her own good fortune, and one for the manager to make sure he and his family will be okay.”
Leung, who has been hitting and blessing for a decade, has her own stroke of grandmotherly wisdom. When I ask if she would use the service herself, she replies, “I have the Kwun Yam to bless my soul, I don’t need to hit bad people. The main thing is that you are kind-hearted, that way you don’t need to pay attention to the bad people in your life. Just be kind-hearted.”
BRAIDS, a Montreal based Art Rock band, reminded the independent music community of Hong Kong to show support for local music – especially in the face of opposition. As vocalist Raphaelle Standell-Preston sound checked her guitar, a bevy of Police entered the foyer of the industrial building housing the quite literally Hidden Agenda, an Indie music venue facing legal scrutiny over it’s atypical location. The police momentarily held up the show, requesting to enter, and demanding permits, or the ID of the owner – neither of which were provided. A throng of attendees gathered around the exchange, cell phones and cameras in hand to document the episode. Unable to enter the premises without a permit to do so, the police disbanded and the show resumed. As the audience re-assembled, Standell-Preston spoke a few words about the importance of local venues in her own life, and asked the crowd to stand with Hidden Agenda in their fight for legality. Hidden Agenda’s itinerancy has come with rising rents and strict zoning regulations that disallow performances in industrial spaces. Local musicians and touring Indie artists would be hard-pressed to ask the ticket prices that allow mainstream venues touting famed headliners to exist in the authorized venues abounding in Central. As a city with a high price on live music, venues like Hidden Agenda are vital to the emergence of local music and the propulsion of Indie artists in Hong Kong. Though the Industrial Building Revitalization Act, which makes such venues illegal, threatens the venue’s existence, fortunately, it has been unable to eliminate the welcomed cultural safe space. 
“Monica Washington – I would say more accountability all around. Law makers, schools, the way we teach, the way we structure our systems, there is no accountability. It’s like the people who set it all up have an agenda and no one holds them accountable for their agenda, but they package it all up to look like it’s something that it’s not. To see this happening in the justice system is unfortunate because it is supposed to be a sort of moral center and we see that it isn’t and people around the world see it that we don’t practice what we preach in this country.”
In Mong Kok, on the Kowloon side of Hong Kong, there is a street called Goldfish street. On Goldfish street vendors have been selling tropical fish, aquatic plants, and aquarium supplies to Hong Konger and foreigners alike since the 1970’s. The dealings started as a makeshift market a few blocks from what is now Goldfish central, then evolved into a more permanent collection of shops that have clearly established themselves. The 2007 and 2008 Grand Champions of the International Aquatic Plants Layout Contest both have storefronts on Goldfish Street. In the 80’s and 90’s Hong Kong was in the top five exporters of tropical fish.
Coco – 22
Tsukiji Fish Market is the largest fish and seafood market in the world. The bustling starts at 3am with the unloading of trucks and unpacking of extremely fresh seafood. The live auction begins at 5:20am and ends around 8. Only 120 visitors per day are allowed to observe the auctions. At various times visitors have been banned altogether. Gigantic frozen pieces of tuna are cut with band saws while fresh fish are sliced with sword-like knives over a meter long. Walking along the narrow paths from stall to stall between people prepping, marking, packing, and inspecting, my attention was completely absorbed in the excitement of it all.
Viola Jean Photography 