Jo Haycock

In search of a Hong Kong Childhood | My Family Adventure by Jo Haycock Photography

On a quiet ward in the Royal Gwent Hospital in the stillness of 3am, my sister and I planned a monumental trip, in the gentle rhythm of our grandmother's breathing as she lay between us. Our family lived in Hong Kong when we were children, so some decades later and with four children between us, we made a big plan that night. To retrace where we grew up, went to school and still hold such vivid memories.

Holding her hands throughout the night, we put together a plan of what this trip might look like, already knowing it was going to be one that would spark open some memories of our life from that time.

So it is beyond special to always remember that our grandmother was very much part of our planning for this journey.

We grew up in Hong Kong for nearly four years as our father took up a civil engineer's position with MTR, helping to build the underground rail network back then. Known today as one of the best in the world. Of course, I'm sure that was down to him. After countless questions thrown at our parents about which school, what was the name of that street, what was the name of the station Dad was responsible for building, which beach, and more specific stuff like "what was the name of that island that we regularly cycled along the dirt track and ate noodles at roadside cafe huts?"

The questions came thicker and faster than the answers they could give us.  Oh and just to clarify, it's Lantau Island I'm talking about, and the dirt track cycle path gave way to hosting HK's international airport along with a Disneyland for good measure.

I'd say we are moderately light travellers, even packing for six - three teens and a wannabe tween in the mix. So for a two week trip that included five days in the middle to travel to China, it took some meticulous planning. Imagine the horror when we discovered that three of six cases had not turned up on the same flight we landed on? There was a moment of...

that's it, the whole trip is ruined!

...before we found reassurance in the airport baggage staff and KLM doing all they could to locate and reunite. We all (even those who hadn't lost cases) made emergency buys, and made our way to the AirBnB apartment on Des Veoux Road West. Old Hong Kong at its best, and perfectly preserved in its vision, true to my memory of exactly how I remembered it as a child.

We stayed 12 storeys up and above the dried food markets, a 7/11 and in our opinion, next to some of the best noodle bars and restaurants. It's right here that I have to give a huge high five to the most instagramable laundrette (coffee bar AND art gallery) in town. All in one compact and retro space. The Panda Laundry   It became our go-to coffee and pastry stop every single morning. Funnily enough, we never once did our laundry there but I hear that they give out complimentary washing power to those that do. I've struggled to find a comprehensive link here, how is this little gem of a space not raved about more globally?... I genuinely miss it.

Though the last morning coffee jaunt became a bit fraught as I lost my 11-year-old on a hectic main street, all in the name of a photograph and the assumption she'd follow on there with her aunt and cousins.

Thankfully she knew the route so well, and after a heart stopping 10 minutes we found each other. That experience was a total parenting v artist fail on my part!

"Nothing is refined in this chaotic frenzy of an old-school dim sum teahouse experience"

One of our first ventures on the second day was to the Li Heung Tea House and it's is not for the feint-hearted. Best described as a frantic afternoon tea experience on steroids, old-school Hong Kong style. No matter what time of day you visit, each table will be three-deep with people stood closely behind the chairs of people already sat at their table. They are politely watching every last mouthful taken by each table's occupant. The atmosphere is incredible, with steam billowing from the kitchens, the constant clatter of cutlery, chatter and jasmine tea being poured from over-head height into bowls.

There were a few raised eyebrows from other diners at one point, as I drizzled soy sauce over my dessert pastry. An interesting combination, which I hope my expression didn't give away my own surprise.

Suddenly, as if appearing by magic, would be several robust and no-nonsense food trolley ladies moving in from different corners of the room. Diners, seated or not, would flock around them waving food tickets, grabbing plates of  freshly cooked dim sum. With tickets stamped, gleefully they'd go back to their tables for all to tuck in. We got totally seduced in the process and at times, with no idea what we tucking into. With mixed online reviews, it is all about its unique experience. There is nothing quite like this tea house anywhere else in the world.

I wasn't prepared for the emotion felt at first sight of the Star Ferry all these decades later, I closed my eyes. The smells, the sounds, I was 10 years old again.

The hustle and bustle had a 2018 slant, but overall nothing had changed. Even the sight of the commuters-come-fishermen gathered along the harbour side, pulling a single line from their pockets to catch a quick fish or two while waiting for the ferry to come in. Honestly and reassuringly, it felt the same.

Some days later we headed over to Kowloon for a dim sum cookery workshop. Experiencing some of the talent and pride that goes into making these little perfectly formed pastry penguins, squid and flowers was just the mindful pitstop we needed in this perfectly chaotic trip. The next best thing is tasting all your efforts afterwards. So that was lunch sorted... We left to go on and get beautifully lost around the expansive grid network of Ladies Night Market.

It took us an age to find it, getting on and off all the wrong MTR stops until dusk fell and we found it, wandering through the busy labyrinth of market lanes.

Then my 15-year old sleuth niece whispered to my sister, that she recognised the man in the red t-shirt following us since a tube ride a long while ago.

Not to linger too long on this unpleasant experience, we led him straight to some MTR station guards who dealt with the whole situation amazingly as they detained him so we could leave on the next train. It was the only time we felt any fear, it feels important to mention this part of the story.

Running for the No. 6 double-decker bus that third morning was a very important part of the this trip as we knew where it was going to take us. The scenic route up and over Hong Kong island and down to the south where we lived. My sister and I giving each other's arms a little squeeze in excitement and disbelief that we were actually doing this. Pointing at apartment blocks and little inlet bays along the way, reminding each other of the family friends we played with and childhood antics we got up to during those times.

Repulse Bay was the first place we called home back then. We spent a good few hours on the beach looking up at the apartment block, there on the hill. It was also a surreal experience being approached by the loveliest of tourists, who'd just got off their tour bus and couldn't leave without asking to be photographed with our girls.  On to Stanley, with its still-thriving market and more recently, shiny shopping plaza, complete with dog parking. In fact it was quite a sight seeing the immaculately groomed dogs around the beachfront that were being pushed around in doggy-prams. Our girls were in raptures.

The final stop on the bus journey was back in time to Chung Hom Kok beach and the apartment up the road and around the corner, that we knew so well as home. This was by far the strongest of the memory slideshow. I could actually hear the voices and laughter of friends from 30 years ago. The telling offs from grownups, like the time I wrote 'Becky' in my mother's best lipstick on the parameter wall and let my little sister take the blame. And the time I was dared to thrown my shiny red bike off the garage roof and damage the neighbour's car in the process. So powerful, so incredible to experience, almost like hypnotherapy in the awakened moment.

Halfway into this trip we visited Guilin, China for five days. There is no way this incredible trip would have happened without the patience and guidance of  Frontières 56 Travel - they literally took every whim, request and last minute change from us and created a phenomenal experience with mind-blowing scenery and placed us among the friendliest people in the whole world. We stepped straight off the plane and went 100 metres down into a bejewelled cave, then up 100s of metres into the hills of terraced fields full of rice. To eat produce that lunch time farmed only metres away was something else. There was a boat trip along the River Li,

followed by a bamboo raft ride which involved two deckchairs strapped on with string. Steered by a weathered raft man instructing us, by waving hand signals, to raise our feet as we hurtled down the rapids.

The last and biggest mention of this China trip goes to our beautiful patient guide, Annie. Who quickly realised that her agenda was blown to pieces by six females all needing the toilet at different times. This lady pulled off U-turns in arrangements like no other... thank you for your love and knowledge.

Last few days in HK and we gave the girls the choice of theme parks - Disneyland or Ocean Park. We were delighted they choice Ocean Park as this was the hoped for and retro answer - this was the theme park we used to go to when we lived here. It was my sister, Becky's birthday on our last day. So we all chose to go back to Chung beach for a last swim and dance along that shoreline. Walking past our old apartment home a last time, the gate was open

"Girls, you know the way to the beach, we'll meet you there. Your mother and I are going in."

We stood outside apartment 2A for a little while. Debating whether to knock on the door. There were voices on the other side. We decided that was enough and headed on our way to our childhood beach, for a final play in the ocean with our daughters, as we did ourselves so many times all those years ago.

As it was written - the diary notes  

by Jo Haycock

A year photographing Newport Women's Aid

“Sometimes I still hear him talking in my ear but these days I say, no chance mate, no more.”

When I was first approached Newport Women’s Aid some years back with a project idea, I felt strongly about telling a real story through photographs. One that showed a different side to the usual images depicting despair and bruises, normally used to illustrate domestic abuse. I wanted to tell a story about empowerment and choice, about how a group of women there had fearfully but courageously walked out of their 'safe' and secret domestic war zone to break that secret. To honour themselves with a new beginning.

Like a lot of people, I mainly thought of Newport Women’s Aid  as providing a helpline and refuge in a time of crisis.  This is true, they do. However, I quickly realised that there was much more going on behind the scenes to support them further into a safer life, beyond that first crucial phone call.

"He keeps sending me parcels in the post” said a woman who left her abusive partner the year before. “One came from Amazon – it felt like he was back in my house again. So I told myself, it’s only a book, he can't hurt me anymore.”

The Freedom Programme was devised by Pat Craven, and is now used by many women’s aid centres as a weekly rolling programme. Each session covers the typical personality traits of the perpetrator. It’s a chance for women to drop in, listen, realise and share their own experiences. When I joined them for my first session, I became completely overwhelmed at how brave these women really are.  Being faced with a list of traits connected to their very own abuser, and watching the realisation dawn upon them, was such a powerful experience. It was incredibly humbling to be part of.

I didn’t take my camera out of the bag during these early sessions, I just listened, acknowledged, then quietly went off to sit in my car afterwards to reflect some reality of what they'd actually gone through. I can only now admit here, that I sat in the privacy of my car and sobbed... partly in disbelief and frustration that this happens, but mostly for their bravery, for the new life they’re determined to find.

“When I said I was going to leave him he locked me in my room” said one women during a Freedom Programme session. “Then it was my birthday and we had some mates around, so I waited until they all got really drunk and fell asleep. That’s when I left” she added, “I walked out and came here, that was my birthday.”

During this year-long project, I joined in many Coffee Morning workshops. Not your typical coffee morning I might add, these involved self defence lessons, yoga classes, even discovering the art of origami. These were mindful, connective and most importantly, safe and creative spaces for them to explore themselves and become the women they know they really are.

Over time, these amazingly strong and beautiful women started greeting me with hugs and wise-cracks about how they see life these days – we even had an impromptu ‘book club’ one morning and discussed Fifty Shades of Grey while decorating our cup cakes. 

It was a euphoric moment for me as a documentary photographer, that these women knew I was there and felt safe with me being among them. I was trusted.

Some of these women are still with their abusive partners, but the light and laughs that these workshops bring give them another focus, a release and place to meet up with friends.

The women here are not the only ones affected by domestic abuse. Their children suffer too, with equal loyalties between both parents. Huge behavioural challenges and struggles with expressing what they feel and what they can do with these bottled up emotions.

"I'm a boy that came to the Hands Off group and I enjoyed it. I hope you enjoy it like I did"

The Hands Off group is an emotional and bonding journey for mothers and their children spanning ten weeks. It gives each child the chance to voice their own feelings in a space that’s nurturing and encouraging. They deserve their own empowerment, and watching them make wishes for the future and write letters of hope for the next group, reminds me of what a safe and grounded childhood I had. They all deserve this childhood. Grown from this, Newport Women’s Aid now give preventive workshops to target-aged school children, to help guide them to know what feels right and wrong when forming relationships.

Anonymity for most of the women and all of the children that I photographed has been crucial, but building up relationships with them was even more so. Their hands became their portraits to me as they created and worked together. Whether it be making a giant mosaic piece, or their legs being photographed as they learned some self-defence moves and practiced yoga. I photographed them from behind in the refuge, was careful not to show any distinctive tattoos or body markings of those that weren't ready to be identified before being ready to face the world once more.

I will feel forever privileged that they’ve let me share a part of re-building their lives.

"yes means yes and no means no"

Being part of this community project saw me introduced to a more world-wide movement. To educate and give a united voice to what still happens across the world in terms of violence and abuse against women. One experience saw me joining the annual Million Women Rise march in London. It's very much a peaceful and creative protest with women and children gathering from all corners of the world, walking through centre London singing their chants and holding high their colourful banners with some very clear messages to the world about their future. I've taken part in it a few years running and more recently taken my young daughter to experience. 

I'm proud that the legacy of this project continues for me. I get to use my craft and take part in awareness days and conferences, to help to visually tell how far a journey these women have journeyed. These are events that continue to create and educate, with survivors' stories at the heart of them. Most importantly, it continues to open my eyes wider still, especially as a mother to a young girl, to the responsibility we all have in raising strong, aware and compassionate children. In educating them to understand what what a healthy relationship should look and feel like, one step at a time. 

by Jo Haycock