Centuries ago, the delightful aroma of agarwood trees — Hong Kong's namesake species — brought the otherwise obscure place a spot on the imperial map, and gave Hong Kong the name of the Fragrant Harbour -, one which has stuck with the city ever since. Hong Kong incense was prized across China, and incense tree logging and milling was a major local industry, with loggers flocking to prized spots such as Lek Yuen. Groves of incense trees, scattered across the mountainous terrains from Aberdeen to the New Territories, were believed to bring local villagers good feng shui. Followers of Buddhism and Taoism also turn to the symbolic fragrance of agarwood during worship or in offerings, hoping it will ward off misfortune and bring clarity to the mind and soul. To this day, the purifying scents wafting from the incense is still commonly associated with auspicious energy, luck, and health. However, the fragrance was appreciated by the poachers just as much as the religious followers. Often called the 'black gold' of the forest, agarwood resin was often exploited at the expense of agarwood extinction.
In Incense Tree, a poem extracted from A Grain of Sand: Poems from Hong Kong, the author Louis Ho writes: 'Heung, not Hong; Gong, not Kong'. The transliteration of English sounds from monosyllabic tonal Chinese, seems to almost wash away the rich culture from which each Chinese character was born. Yet, this is the name we have adopted and adapted to. The name Hong Kong rolls off our tongues so easily, articulation void of any meaning behind the city's beautiful and tragic name. It's strange to realise that even though these agarwood trees formed an integral part of the early incense trade that secured Hong Kong's legacy and inspired the enduring name, younger generations (myself included) are growing up with little or no knowledge of the lamentable history. As the earthy scents of agarwood fade away, their roots, buried deep into the soil poachers tread across, are slowly but surely forgotten as well.
Hong Kong prides itself on being a diverse and international city. As the growth hotspot of the early twenty-first century and a major force among global economies, it serves as a gateway between the East and the West. As a result, western culture has been a substantial influence on the cultural development of Hong Kong. Under the biliterate and trilingual policy, English is just as familiar a tongue as Cantonese, and we even pander toward western fashion or culinary trends. In a way, this was what gave my generation our pride and confidence; what propelled us to introduce ourselves as Hongkongers to foreigners. Between the bustling streets and neon lights, where every individual was given the opportunity to flourish, we found a sense of belonging in our identity.
However, as the pandemic stretched on, year after year of solitude drove me to reflect on the experiences I had considered trivial, unassuming even. Every family lunch at the Chinese teahouse was now an excursion, the ear-piercing voices of the restaurant managers now a strange but alluring melody. As the Mid-Autumn festival dawned in 2020, the night became all the eerier as shrieks of laughter and chatter were nowhere to be heard, the trees bare without the adornment of glowsticks. My mother hands me an ice cream mooncake, a flashy delicacy to appeal to the audience's westernised palettes. I find myself reminiscing about the taste of traditional mooncakes: a perfect balance of sweet and salty from the lotus seed paste and egg yolks.
This is the treasure so easily forgotten: the Chinese, no, Cantonese culture from which our pride and dignity, and sense of belonging stems. Hong Kong has taken the two threads of East and West, and woven them into a coruscating tapestry that is the fusion of cultures. Too often, we appreciate one colour, and neglect the other, when in reality our culture is born from the intertwining of the two, neither a complete picture on its own. The truth is, I had grown up in a concrete forest. Never having stepped foot on an actual agarwood plantation, my roots could only be entombed in sidewalks and buried under skyscrapers, my insides hollowed out by rot and nourished by a culture that didn't seem to fully belong to us. Hong Kong culture is described as a sophisticated fusion of East and West. Still, the ever-growing diversity can easily lead to the diminishing of Chinese culture, not only in the physical sense, but in our spirits as well. Traditional Chinese beliefs such as modesty and humility are what shape our core and sets us apart from the rest, yet these qualities are slipping away as we forget to preserve the essence of our culture in the roads we pave.
Belonging is a natural reaction, intrinsic. In our own cultures, where in a sense, at least racially, linguistically, and historically we do belong, we often mistake this belonging as spiritual, and take it for granted. We forget that belonging takes effort and time, and that belonging comes from creating bonds and engaging with our habitat, not just the people within, but with the environment that shapes it as well. To find a sense of belonging is to fully immerse oneself in the culture, and to enrich our emotional capacity with philosophy, literature, and landscape. As the younger generation, we have allowed ourselves to even forget about the origin of our city’s name; how much more must we let slip away, until our hands are bare of the treasures our ancestors spent centuries carving?
Written By : Gaille Su
Edited By : Tisya Gupta
Graphics By : Alicia Fok
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