At first glance, you’ll think, “King Who?”. Long-time teacher and author Jonathan Chamberlain delivers an unusual biography, King Hui, The Man Who Owned All the Opium in Hong Kong (2007, Blacksmith Books, 348 pages, US$17.95).
The book follows Peter Hui (1914-1993), a man typical of the eccentric characters taking refuge on Hong Kong’s outlying islands. Long a dabbler in business, love, crime, violence and even espionage, Hui retreated to Cheung Chau, a tiny place linked by ferry to the Central Business District.
For many hours, the author listened as Hui reminisced, keen to tell of an eventful life that took him from rags to riches to rags.
“I tell you I’m so unlucky. Every time I’m about to make a fortune, bad luck attacks me. Truly, God must want to punish me.”
Much of Hui’s philosophy echoes that of Hong Kong. “I have a great deal of experience in love…. Maybe this will surprise you, but I say love is nothing!… Money is important.... Without money, life is full of hardship, and who can stand that for a long time?”
As Hui narrates, the book reflects his personality by mixing impressive strength with serious weakness. First, the strength…. King Hui gives an insightful, street-side view of Hong Kong through the 20th century. The turbulent events battering Hui and others turn this eye-witness account into a solid history book.
“In those days there was a lot of cheating. Not just then. Even now. Hong Kong is a natural home for cheats. Cheating is a way of life.”
“At that time I was very impressed by the basic ideas of Communism. Give what you can and take only what you need. We were all convinced this was the way forward. But the truth of the matter is that people are selfish. They will work for themselves but not for others. Not everyone was willing to work hard. If I work harder than you but we get the same reward, naturally I will not be so happy. That is the fundamental problem that no amount of philosophy or propaganda can hide.”
Next the weakness…. As a storyteller, Hui indulges in arrogance, vanity and exaggeration. Many details about his own activities appear unreliable. For example, he earned a nickname, King, for his kung fu prowess. He brags of fighting his way out of trouble, often thumping bigger men, even groups of them. Did he really never lose a battle?
“By this time my blood was hot. Fighting does that to me. I shouted to the crowd: ‘Okay. Does anyone else what to have a fight? Come on. I’m here. You can come and fight me!’ Nobody dared.”
Perhaps Hui deserves notoriety, not admiration. Well-intentioned and capable, he suffered setbacks for being hot-tempered, violent, a pleasure-seeker, unfaithful in love, a mediocre father (to 11 children), often corrupt and prone to fritter away wealth. He confesses to deeds others would deny. During the Second World War, he survived by befriending, even collaborating with, Hong Kong’s Japanese invaders.
“Actually, Hong Kong fell very quickly. The sound of explosions stopped. We waited. Most of the people hated the British, but they also hated the Japanese…. Everyone stayed indoors and waited to see what would happen.
“For the majority of the people of Hong Kong, food became the big problem. Some people were starving on the streets. The poor people had nowhere to live and no money to buy rice.”
Later, Hui joined the police and prospered from rampant corruption. “In those days it was well known that the government was corrupt. Maybe not 100 per cent corrupt, but at least 95.”
Switching sides, Hui led a robbery gang and aspired to raid the Treasury of Hong Kong. “It would have been dangerous. I might have been caught and put in prison. I might have been shot and killed. With a robbery, anything can happen.”
Consorting with triads and prostitutes, Hui pursued pleasure while failing to fully support his family. When old, he felt abandoned, rarely visited by his children.
The “opium” incident happened in 1945 as the tattered Japanese military, preparing to leave Hong Kong, awarded Hui legal title to the city’s opium, then in storage. On paper, he gained huge wealth, but the returning British confiscated his goods.
“That is when the dream burst. I was stunned at first.... I had placed all my hopes on the opium…. I was nearly broken in two. I had no money. I had spent it all.”
Hui’s colorful memories and lively narrative will inform and entertain most readers, but he’s very self-serving. “I have done many foolish things. I have been corrupt. But I am not an evil man. I have helped more people than I have hurt.”
Reading King Hui forces a judgment call. Was Peter Hui a rogue or hero?
Approval rating: 61 per cent.
For more information: www.blacksmithbooks.com
(June 26, 2007)
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