It began to create in my mind a desire to understand the man. Once, when I saw him, I was transported into a deep empathy with his circumstance. I could feel in the space of seconds that he was far beyond despondency. He was in total resignation. Perhaps he had been rejected? Maybe he was a drug user or had become involved in criminal activity only to be discarded by those who had used him.
It felt to me that he had probably never had any expectations beyond living a day at a time. It was his fate to live like this. He'd never had a phase of bitterness or self pity because he'd never had any right to either of these. Life wasn't that luxurious.
Today he was lying by this wall and there was no tomorrow. But tomorrow he would lie by the wall as well. The hope of anyone helping him had never occurred to him. Hope was also the luxury of other people, something he had never known.
The days had become wetter and wetter, culminating in torrential downpours. Water flooded along the main street and the black dust became pools of oily water. Thunder cracked with shuddering peals of sound across the tops of the high-rise buildings. Flashes of sheet lightening lit up the sky. The neon lights had turned on at three o'clock when the light was so dark it must have triggered an automatic night switch. Shoppers strained to keep from the rivers widening on the road and to keep their purchases from damage from rain.
Down in the tunnel the pink eiderdown soaked up the moisture from hundreds of splashing passers by. The cardboard pillow was sodden. The man seemed not to notice. I wished I could do something for this man but I was only a temporary visitor to his city. I didn't know who could be called on and doubted, as my friend had explained, there were enough agencies to care or to help all the vagrants that lived in this place. It was hard to block out his condition.
The impressions of the holiday were mixed. I felt the rising nervousness of the people as the deadline for China's takeover was coming closer. Yet there was still a strong optimism that permeated the city and kept the life blood flowing. It was a vivacious and intriguing place.
The bus that was to transport me to the airport arrived and a straggle of hotel guests dragging weighty suitcases, slowly lined their luggage beside the vehicle and had climbed on board. The holiday had been almost more exhausting than staying at home but I didn't regret any of it. I had at least twenty five cheap tea shirts to give away and a new suitcase that I had needed to buy to fit in all the other spoils of shopping.
The local guide had finished explaining about the procedures at the airport and it was time to look out for the last time on the city. Judging by the accents, most of the others on board were New Zealanders or Australians.
I sat on one of the front seats.
To the side of me and one row back a woman was talking loudly to her neighbour on the opposite side of the aisle. The loud New Zealand accent drifted across to the local Chinese guide and to me as the woman shared her impressions of Hong Kong.
"Can't say I like the Chinese much. Too pushy......yeah, and did y' try the underground? Yeah I did a couple of times. It was horrible, so many people and they don't get out of your way either. I think there were some shops on the island side but I didn't go across there, couldn't see much point.
Hotel was nice though. Didn't eat out much, except of course we did find a McDonalds. Some of the stuff we saw them cooking in the Chinese places looked revolting!"
I glanced behind me to see the speaker. She was a largish woman with her mid length curly hair pinned back tight from her forehead. Her make-up was heavy and the words were tumbling from wide candy-pink, painted lips. I couldn't hear the neighbour's responses.
"Did y' see that man in the tunnel?"
I took a little more interest.
"He was disgusting! Y'd think someone would move him on! I was appalled to see he was allowed to stay there. He was so repulsive to look at!"
I turned to watch the Chinese guide. She was keeping a calm expression on her face. With embarrassment, I realised she had probably heard similar almost every day. I wanted to apologise, to say to her. "Please don't judge us all the same. Oh, and thank you for your graciousness."
Instead all I could do was give what I hoped was an apologetic shrug. The guide smiled back and I was grateful for her understanding. The fellow Kiwi woman chattered on obliviously.
Her Hong Kong slice of memory would remain as a place where you could buy cheap electronic devices and find a hamburger. I would remember the placid resignation of a man without hope and a city that I would one day return to as the city itself could not lie down with placid resignation and would not cease to throb with life and activity.
