Macao News

Paul Pun Chi Meng

Rafelle Allego — Thu, 17 Dec 2020 11:40:04 +0800

For many years, an older woman visited Paul Pun Chi Meng at the Caritas Macau office, donating MOP 100–200 each time to support the charity’s social work efforts. Eventually, the woman became paralysed, and she could no longer walk from her third-floor home to the office, but she missed her visits with Pun. So he went to her instead, often carrying her down whenever she needed to see a doctor. The woman’s situation inspired Caritas Macau to develop a contraption that helps the disabled or unwell navigate the stairs safely – and it has helped hundreds of Macao residents since. Ultimately, he says, the time he spent with the woman was significant to both of them. “Just by comforting and caring for someone who feels so much pain, we can help them forget the pain,” he says. “She passed away already, but I still remember her.” Pun’s capacity for compassion is unparalleled in Macao. A familiar face at social work events around the city, Pun has helmed Caritas Macau – a local branch of the Caritas global relief, development and social – for nearly 30 years. As the secretary-general, he manages the charity’s services with a hands-on approach and represents the Caritas Macau locally and abroad. Pun is also the principal and co-founder of Escola São João de Brito, the president of the Association for the Relief of Refugees, the president of the Macao Institute of Social Work, and the General Assembly President of the Macau Special Olympics.

“If you do something wrong, no problem. Just keep trying again and again until it is right – that is how we develop character.”

Born in Macao in 12 November 1958, Pun attended Instituto Salesiano (IS) for middle school, which he credits for cultivating his creative thinking skills and diverse worldview. “When I was a student, I didn’t like to sit down,” he recalls. “At IS, [my teachers] permitted me to walk around, make mistakes and think on my feet.” The flexible and independent learning environment helped Pun “think outside the box”, he says. After finishing middle school at IS in 1975, he attended Yuet Wah College for secondary school and took a teacher training course remotely, then returned to IS to teach Chinese and math to Grade 5 students. “As a teacher, I enjoyed working with teenagers, but I felt like I should be doing more to help the young people,” he says. Inspired to get more involved, he enrolled in the Macau Institute of Social Work where he studied from 1979 to 1981. Upon graduating, he joined Caritas Macau as a social worker and began working with psychiatric patients as part of a rehabilitation programme at the charity’s Ilha Verde office. He took up social work at an opportune time, giving the influx of Vietnamese refugees – fleeing war and persecution in what was then South Vietnam – in the late 1970s and early 1980s. As Pun embarked on his humanitarian career, he also worked at the Ilha Verde refugee camp nearby where he helped provide food and other necessities while assisting the late Father Lancelote Miguel Rodrigues, a missionary known in Macao as “The Priest of Refugees”. Pun recalls the camp being a warm and safe place, where asylum seekers could roam freely, work, worship and socialise. “In this open environment they learned new skills, found work, and were able to better integrate with the local community,” he says. Meanwhile, Pun continued his work with Caritas Macau while seeking out new challenges. In 1982, he audited mental health classes at the University of Hong Kong and, in 1983, he co-founded the Macau Special Olympics. The next year, Pun helped the charity launch the Caritas Counselling Centre – now the Suicide Prevention Services – followed by a school for children with special education needs in 1985. [caption id="attachment_32940" align="alignnone" width="2000"] Photo by António Sanmarful[/caption] Noticing Pun’s motivation and passion, the founders of Caritas Macau encourage him to further his studies. With their support, he pursued a Bachelor of Social Work at the University of Guam. Before leaving for Guam, Pun had noticed youth hanging out in the streets of Macao instead of attending school. He proposed a new type of school tailored to children who have faced difficulties in their lives, aiming to provide a sanctuary that’s free of judgement. The idea, he says, is to provide a way for youth to return to the classroom, no matter how problematic their past may be. And just as he started his degree, Pun teamed up with a missionary, the late Father Luis Ruiz Suárez, to open Escola São João de Brito, a school dedicated to re-integrating youth who had previously dropped out. In its first year, the school enrolled fewer than 20 pupils. Today, there are around 350. “Education should give opportunities to those who need [another] chance the most,” Pun says. “For me, I don’t see education as a [mechanism] to understand the world and society. It’s also a place where students learn to deal with their mistakes and improve. If you do something wrong, no problem. Just keep trying again and again until it is right – that is how we develop character.” While juggling his duties as the school’s co-founder, Pun finished his bachelor’s degree in 1988 and soon continued his academic career, relocating to New York City in 1990 to earn a Master of Social Work at Columbia University. After finishing the programme, he moved back to Macao and resumed his work at Caritas Macau. At the end of 1990, he became the secretary-general of Caritas Macau. As is his nature, Pun stayed busy throughout the next decade. In the early 2000s, he helped set up the elderly centre in Ilha Verde which was the first of its kind that that brought community-based services in Macao, delivering meals and helping the elderly to see their doctors. There were also Caritas Macau’s Casa Corcel homeless centre, the Centro Residencial Arco-Iris youth hostel, and the Hong Fai Day Care Centre to support Macao’s elderly, among many other projects.

“Just by comforting and caring for someone who feels so much pain, we can help them forget the pain.”

Pun, who is married and has a grown son, also volunteered abroad with disaster aid groups in the wake of many regional catastrophes, including the 1991 East China floods, the 2004 South Asian Tsunami, and the 2008 Sichuan earthquake. He has been recognised for his community work on several occasions, but Pun remains humble and focused. In 2008, the Macao government awarded him a Medal of Honour for his community service work. The following year, in 2009, the Vatican’s Pontifical Council for Justice and Peace awarded Pun the Pontifical Justice and Peace Medal in 2009 for his work on many charitable initiatives through Caritas Macau. “To me, awards are not my motivation,” says Pun. “Helping is an honour, and we have to serve people, which is most important.” Not one to rest on his laurels, Pun has continued to fight for social welfare, improve care for communities in need and support youth through educational initiatives. Under his leadership at Caritas Macau, for instance, the organisation has launched a total of 15 services for the elderly, 12 community services, 11 services for families and children, seven rehabilitation services, seven social innovations, and three educational services as well as the Caritas Clinic. At the clinic, medical staff provide accessible services to migrant workers and residents of Macao in need. This past year, 2020, has posed new challenges, but the charity quickly adapted to Covid-19 restrictions and changing needs across the community. Since the early months of the COVID-19 outbreak, Caritas Macau has been providing food and hygiene products to the most vulnerable groups in society, including the elderly and those with disabilities. Pun estimates that the charity helped roughly 400 vulnerable families in the first few weeks of the pandemic alone. “We have played our part to ensure there are adequate resources in our elderly and rehabilitation centres to prevent the spread of the virus, he says. “Our service users [the people Caritas Macau serves] have been cared for without interruption.” The charity has also organised food, temporary accommodations and other necessities for some migrant workers stranded in Macao, or who would typically need to travel between Macao and mainland China. “While the government focuses on helping the local population, we’re doing our part by providing those the government aren’t able to reach,” says Pun. When it comes to what keeps him motivated to serve others, Pun says it’s not something he really considers. “I’m an instrument to be useful to the community and continue to do this work,” says Pun. “I don’t have a motto – [my purpose] is just to do the work. I don’t see it as a burden, but simply work that I must continue doing.”

Augusto Nogueira

Tanja Wessels — Sat, 05 Dec 2020 08:10:37 +0800

After more than two decades at the forefront of helping people with addictions in Macao, Augusto Nogueira remains driven by a simple, yet powerful, value: compassion. Born in Lisbon, Portugal, in 1968, Nogueira recalls a happy childhood and a tendency to be “kind of naughty in school”. His father worked as an office clerk at a car company, while his mother took care of the house and three children. During secondary school, Nogueira worked nights as an electrician at a tractor company, then later at Konica Minolta, a Japanese technology company, before being drafted into the Portuguese military in 1989, at the age of 21. “It was kind of boring, but mandatory,” he recalls of the experience, which lasted exactly “13 months and nine days”. Nogueira began his military training t in Setubal, greater Lisbon, before moving to a Military Hospital in Lisbon, where he worked as an electrician. “You learn about ways to survive in a war, but also things about how to survive by yourself.” After military service, Nogueira returned to his work as an electrician at Konica Minolta while simultaneously selling timeshare arrangements for properties around the country – a side gig he had started in the military. Around this time, Nogueira lost his way. The young man, then 24, started using drugs, during a challenging period that “lasted long enough to change the course of my life.” Though Nogueira prefers not to recount the details, he says the experience from that time in his life shaped his worldview and established values of empathy and understanding that he brings to the work he does today. “I think it’s not important to know what kind of drugs I used, but more important that drugs can can lead to addiction and we fall into a spiral of self-destruction that will change our way of living, our future, our dreams, our families, our stigma, our self love and the course of our life,” he reflects.

Drugs can can lead to addiction and we fall into a spiral of self-destruction that will change our way of living.

That same year, he entered the SER Association drug rehabilitation centre, after his parents gave him an ultimatum: If he wanted to continue living with them, he had to get clean. Nogueira spent eight months in the SER Association’s in-patient programme. “It was a good experience – we were living in a community where everyone helped each other with duties, such as washing our clothes, taking care of the farm, [in addition to attending] all the meetings, counselling sessions... it was a very natural way of life.” However, rehabilitation was not easy. “We had to be very strong and overcome [tough] situations,” he recalls. But. the experience gave him the confidence “to adapt to any circumstances in life.” The presence of a childhood friend at the centre, who was also undergoing treatment, gave Nogueira the motivation to push through the darkest times. “He was my anchor. I thought, ‘If he can manage, I can manage.’ He gave me the strength not to quit.” Nogueira was eight months into his treatment when SER announced that it was looking for volunteers to help open new centres in Macao and Hong Kong. Nogueira didn’t hesitate. “I was struggling a bit and needed extra motivation, an extra challenge. At that time, I didn’t want to live, and I thought ‘I’m not ready to go back to society’.’”

Starting Fresh in Asia

In 1994 Nogueira landed in Hong Kong, where he joined the SER Oriente centre on Lantau Island. The obstacles came fast. First, there were language barriers, since he spoke little English and zero Chinese. The organisation also had to drum up its own funding. “We had no funding from the government, or from anyone, so we had to go out and ask for donations,” he recalls. In those early days, the volunteers constructed the centre, integrated newcomers, cooked and gardened – creating their own community. At the end of the year, SER Oriente opened a sister centre in Macao, where Nogueira helped with fundraising and educational events to raise awareness about drug addiction, prevention and rehabilitation. “We organised activities, including concerts and prevention campaigns in schools,” he says. After the 1999 Macao handover of administration back to mainland China in the association changed its name from "Ser Oriente" to ARTM - Association of Rehabilitation of Drug Abusers of Macau (Associação de Reabilitação de Toxicodependentes de Macau) and moved to a larger premises in Coloane. ARTM would remain there until 2016, at which point the organisation relocated to their current address in Ka Ho, also in Coloane.

A Changing Landscape

Since 2000, ARTM has seen many shifts when it comes to drug use in Macao. Overall, the total number of people treated for drug abuse in Macao has decreased from 345 in 2006 to 296 in 2019, according to Macao's Social Welfare Bureau. The drug variety has also shifted. When Nogueira started working in the city back in 1994, the organisation focused its efforts on variants of opioids, such as heroin. Today, opioids account for 62 per cent of cases, down from 84 per cent in 2006. Nogueira says that’s partly because younger drug users tend to choose methamphetamine, cannabis, cocaine and new psychoactive substances (NPS). Though they are less addictive, NPS can be very destructive to the central nervous system and cause kidney damage, amongst other concerns. To date, approximately 600 people have been through ARTM’s centre in Macao, which offers a mix of short- and long-term detoxification and rehabilitation programmes to combat all types of addictions, from drugs to gambling to alcohol. Taking a people-first approach, ARTM complement its treatments with community-oriented activities, as well as self-development tools and family support – all aimed to help individuals reintegrate into society. The association also provides rapid HIV testing, workshops, counselling, medical support, and more. Nogueira says a non-judgemental, open and welcoming space is key to creating safer conditions for everyone. “We don’t force people to have counselling, or to stop using drugs. But we are there if they need [us],” he says. “My colleagues are very gentle with people – they don’t want to scare them off. We want people to feel comfortable, like there is a safe space for them.” Of the various initiatives, a particular point of pride for Nogueira is ARTM’s needle exchange programme. “In 2004 there was a big increase in HIV numbers among people taking drugs in Macao. There were around 14 to 16 people infected that year with HIV,” he recalls. The government created an AIDS commission and, after many years of research and development, the needle exchange programme began in 2008. “Don't share needles, that’s the most important thing,” he says of their approach. “This year [2020] marks the fifth consecutive year with zero new HIV infections among people who inject drugs,” he proudly shares.

Celebrating 20 Years

This year, 2020, marks the 20th anniversary of ARTM, and has several new initiatives in the pipeline. For example, ARTM is in the process of launching a cafe and an art gallery in Ka Ho, not far from its treatment centre at the former leprosarium. Designed to employ people in the programme, the cafe and gallery will teach useful skills such as cooking, maintenance, setting up and dismantling art exhibits, and gallery management. The hope, says Nogueira, is to help people ease back into society and make it easier to find jobs. “We hope to cooperate with local industries,” he adds. Taking place in December, the first exhibition will be a cooperation with the National Narcotics Commission of China, where ARMT will showcase more than 50 pieces of art made in treatment centres in mainland China. “We also hope to have an exhibition with artwork donated by local artists,” he says, of future plans. “We are open to local young artists – we know that local galleries are full, or are only working with established artists, so we want to make this available to new artists.” After many years dedicated to tackling drug addiction and recovery in Macao, Nogueria says he has learned a lot about himself, and humanity, in the process. And throughout it all – from his own days battling a drug addiction to working on the front lines to help others – he has been guided by a strong conviction that we must have “compassion for others”, offering love and support, rather than judgement. “Most of the time [people who use drugs] are judged – they are stigmatised,” he continues. “If we all could have a better respect for each other and understand that we are human beings, not perfect machines, then the world will be a better place to live, society will be more understanding, people will have more opportunities and less relapses will happen.”

Amélia António

Catarina Brites Soares — Thu, 30 Jul 2020 16:07:01 +0800

Co-founder of The Macao Lawyers Association, first to open a group law firm and head of Macao’s Casa de Portugal for more than a decade, Amélia António has remained unwavering in all the causes she’s fought for. She was born in January 1945 in Lisbon and the first hurdle she had to face in life was the death of her mother when she was seven, which left her in the care of her aunts. When her Aunt Julia died, then 17-year-old Amélia was forced to abandon her dreams of higher education and go to work. She moved from one job to another, working in an embroidery shop, at the post office, in a clinical analysis laboratory, as well as in offices. She took whatever came her way because, as she tells it, jobs were hard to come by. “Much less for someone my age who’d just finished school.” At 16 years old, Amélia started working at the Igreja de São Domingos’ youth centre by Rossio Square in Lisbon, an experience she credits for her change in perspective. “I came into contact with a very violent social situation,” she says, referring to her work with underprivileged children. During these two years, she was once again confronted with injustice, a feeling that she was already familiar with having lost her mother to epilepsy. “When I grew up, I realised it was a disease that could be controlled and treated. I became totally disgusted with the system we were living in, and that made me take an interest in social issues,” she explains, adding that “people don’t become politicised because ideas are sold to them, they gain political awareness because of what they see and experience [around them].”

“People don’t become politicised because ideas are sold to them, they gain political awareness because of what they see and experience [around them].”

Amélia's own growing awareness led her to join the struggle against the authoritarian ‘Estado Novo’ regime, which first came to power in 1933, more than a decade before she was born. Cooperativa DEVIR, a literary association where she worked, was associated with the democratic movement that arose after the 1969 legislative elections. The position made her a target: she was imprisoned twice – first, for a few days in 1970, then for three months in 1971. The association was forcibly shut down in December 1972, with riot police arresting dozens.On 25 April 1974, she stood in central Lisbon’s Carmo Square when Marcelo Caeteano, Portugal’s then-prime minister and last leader of the Estado Novo, surrendered. “We urged civilians to crowd into the square to prevent authorities from firing at the soldiers leading the popular revolt,” she explains.

New life

After the revolution, she was able to continue her studies while working at the South and Islands Bankers Union (SBSI) as an administrative officer, where she remained from 1971 until 1982. She decided to study law, something completely different from her teenage dream of becoming a teacher of Romance languages, driven by her passion for literature. “With the political ups and downs, I realised my future would be difficult as a teacher. Also, the contact with reality made me feel that the law could be useful in a much more immediate manner,” stresses the lawyer, who is fluent in English and French, as well as Portuguese. She finished law school at the University of Lisbon in 1980 and after a two-year internship headed to Macao with her husband, who had accepted an invitation to work as a jurist at the Issuing Institute of Macau (Instituto Emissor de Macau), now the Monetary Authority of Macao. Amélia arrived in 1982 and began at the Macao Business Centre, where she provided legal support for setting up businesses and companies. A year later, she decided to join three other lawyers, including her husband, to open the city’s first group law firm in 1984. “It was considered a joke. They said things would go very badly, but it was time to break new ground,” she recalls. “It was tough. Some months, there wasn’t enough money to go round, but things gradually got better. We began to earn people’s trust. Everyone said that it would be horrible, that no other women were lawyers and that they’d never take me seriously. But I never had problems.” Even as she faced that challenge, another loomed in the distance. The upcoming transfer of administration in Macao meant there was an urgent need to set up a regulatory body for lawyers and Amélia once again rolled up her sleeves. She co-founded The Macao Lawyers Association in 1989 with Carlos Assumpção, Francisco Gonçalves Pereira, among others, which later became a public institution in 1991. She was its secretary-general until 1995 and a member of the High Advocacy Council from 2001 to 2003. She also represented the profession in the Judiciary Council of Macao, from 1993 until its disbandment during the transition process in 1999.

Macao is home

Despite widespread apprehension about changing times due to the transition, Amélia never considered leaving. Two years beforehand, in 1997, she had adopted her children, Clara and Noel. “My life and my home were here. I’ve never regretted it,” she assures. Her visits to mainland China – at the invitation of the authorities – as a lawyer and member of the association, helped her decide to remain in Macao despite fears of what could potentially happen after 1999. “The system that would stay had to play a support role, besides the legal aspects,” she says. “If all the lawyers decided to leave, the system would collapse. There was a lot of concern on the Chinese side about making sure that the lawyers stayed.” She says that some things in Macao post-transition have changed for the better, while others have not. “Like everything in life, nothing is perfect,” she concludes. The city would end up placing yet another challenge in the path of Amélia – Casa de Portugal (House of Portugal). She accepted her place on the board of its General Assembly in 2003, and later joined the management board, which she has headed since 2005. “We’re responsible for upholding a certain difference and helping Macao continue to be seen as a place with a specific identity. That’s why there has to be acknowledgement and respect for the Portuguese community, which can only happen if a structure whose work is recognised is in place,” she stresses. “There’s no nostalgia here, but rather history. Macao is only Macao because it had that experience. Otherwise, it would be just another district of China.” She spends most of her free time with her family, even though her responsibilities with Casa de Portugal, which “have grown a lot,” occupy her a great deal and leave her with no hobbies. Her dedication has not gone unnoticed: Casa de Portugal received the Medal for Cultural Merit from the Macao government in 2011, while Amélia herself was distinguished with the Community Services Medal in 2013 and the Order of Merit from the Portuguese government the following year.

Jorge Fão

Catarina Brites Soares — Mon, 27 Apr 2020 09:20:49 +0800

The career of Jorge Fão has included time in the military and politics, as well as at the helm of civic associations. This outstanding figure in the Macanese and regional community has also led many battles, and that’s what he’s most proud of. He was born in Macao on 17 March 1947, the second of eight children to parents themselves born in Macao, although his mother is of both Chinese and Portuguese descent. Fão has called the city home ever since, only entertaining the idea of leaving in 1999, spurred by the uncertainty surrounding the transfer of administration from Portugal to China. “After witnessing the saddening, unpeaceful scenes during the transfer of administration from the UK to China in Hong Kong in 1997,” Fão recalls, “I decided I wouldn’t stay in Macao during the transition ceremony and festivities and went to Thailand for a week, where I didn’t even turn on the TV.” For all his concern, upon returning to Macao, he only saw one difference: the flags at Guia lighthouse. “I had properties in Portugal and thought that if things went badly, I’d go there. The years went by and I noted that things in Macao not only weren’t bad, they were better.” It wasn’t always easy living in Macao, but Jorge Fão is no quitter, dedicating his working life to ensuring the city did get better. “My [Chinese] zodiac sign is the pig, but I’m more of a wild boar, not a domesticated one,” he jokes. He fought his first battle when he was just eight years old and was a student at Colégio Dom Bosco. A kidney infection interrupted his schooling for more than a year. He nearly died, but fought through it and eventually recovered. He then continued his studies at the Pedro Nolasco da Silva Commercial School, “because my parents weren’t wealthy … it was practically free,” he explains. His history professor there, Henrique de Senna Fernandes, would go on to become one of the city’s most celebrated writers. He finished secondary school when he was 17 years old and began working at the Administrative Court as a clerk. He could do so only after being emancipated by his parents, because back then one was considered a minor until the age of 21. The year he worked at the court, 1966, was marked by the so-called 12-3 incident, a period of upheaval against the Portuguese administration coinciding with the Chinese Cultural Revolution led by Mao Zedong. “We suffered. Nothing was sold to the Portuguese, not even food. That was said officially. I also remember that I was given a rifle at the court and five bullets, to guard the installations,” recalls Fão, just 19 years old at the time. He began his compulsory military service as a sergeant in Macao in 1968, leaving with distinction after two years and a half. “I liked military life. I learned a lot and it shaped me in terms of discipline.” He was then invited to head the administrative division office of the Chinese affairs Provincial Department (now defunct) which was tasked to support the local government in matters to do with China, such as the translation and interpretation of Portuguese and Chinese official documents and vice versa. Fão, who is fluent in Portuguese, English and Cantonese, worked on everything to do with administration and human resources, a role he held for almost 20 years until his retirement in June 1993.

New times

Fão made his debut in the world of associations in 1987 as one of the 18 founding members of the Macau Civil Servants Association (ATFPM). The association aimed at safeguarding the future of the public servants after the transition, informed by what he had witnessed in Portugal during its decolonisation process. Portugal’s 1974 revolution marked a turning point for Macao and for Jorge Fão as well. As a new regime took hold and Portugal’s African colonies declared their independence one after the other, Fão made his first-ever contact with the Portuguese homeland. He visited the country for the first time in 1975, accompanied by his wife – with whom he would eventually have two children, a girl and a boy. “Chairman Mao was venerated by some Portuguese. I saw several busts of him. I also saw what was happening with the returnees [from Portugal’s former colonies]. There was no room for them. It was a very sad situation,” he laments, referring to the more than one million retornados (returnees) who sought refuge in Portugal. “When they began negotiating Macao’s return to China [in 1986], those scenes came back to me. Those returnees had no jobs, no pensions, and that made us think about the need to guarantee people’s subsistence after the transition.” The freedoms brought by the Carnation Revolution took time to reach Macao. One law continued to ban union-type organisations, which were forced to operate underground. “I remember that the statutes were drawn up at the house of Dr Sequeira e Serpa. We then summoned a very well-attended general assembly and approved them. We were lucky,” he explains, “because a civilian was then governing [the physician Pinto Machado], who knew but pretended he didn’t, so we were able to create the ATFPM.” Fão was one of the directors for a decade and served two terms as President and spokesperson of the association, meeting with officials in Beijing and Portugal, such as the then prime minister and president – Aníbal Cavaco Silva and Mário Soares, respectively – to discuss issues such as the question of nationality for the Macanese (mestizo) who decided to stay on in the MSAR and which entity would assume the responsibility of paying pensions to the public servants’ that worked for the Portuguese administration. The association fought hard to avoid the fate of the retornados and it paid off: “Everything that’s now in place for Macao Portuguese retirees is due to our efforts to make demands beforehand.” He stepped down from the ATFPM in 1993 after retiring from his job as he did not believe a retiree should head the association. In the meantime in 1989, he was designated as a counsellor to the Island Municipal Council (Taipa and Coloane) for four years.

Political animal

Fão’s appreciation for politics prevented him from slowing down. David Chow, then a candidate for the legislative elections, decided to hire him as a political adviser, a role he would later reprise for the entrepreneur’s wife, Melinda Chan, during her years as a legislator. Later, in 2001, Chow asked him to be number two on the respective election list. Fão accepted, convinced that he wouldn’t win. “But we did. I was the first and only Portuguese elected by universal suffrage after the transition. I served one term. I didn’t want more. I did what I had to,” he says. As proof, he lists the frequent speeches in plenary sessions – published in the book “Duty of Citizenship” – and the bills he introduced, among them the Unions Act envisaged in the Basic Law, which failed to pass by only two votes. “I’m proud we were able to pass legislation written by the assembly members,” he says. “Now, they only pass measures from the executive government.” Even though he is fluent in Cantonese, he intentionally chose to speak in Portuguese at the Legislative Assembly in an effort to ensure that the Portuguese-language was not forgotten, as it remains one of the SAR’s official languages. Right before he became a legislator, Fão put forward another initiative, which he is still involved in: “I founded the Association for Retirees and Pensioners of Macau (APOMAC) in 2001 and have headed it with Francisco Manhão for 19 years. I can see that we’re committed to working till the very end. No one else has the courage to take it on,” he muses. Today, APOMAC aims to provide a space for the city’s around 800 public servant retirees and pensioners to spend time in. A space where they can receive support from the association, whether it was issues related to Portugal’s Caixa Geral de Aposentações or Macao’s Pension Fund. The association also has a clinic, a leisure area and a canteen with food at very affordable prices. “We often organise lectures so that our retirees continue to follow the evolution of the times,” highlights Fão, who serves as chairman of the association's General Assembly. Despite his busy work life, Fão still finds time for himself to do things he loves such as fishing and travel which he does very often, jetting off almost every month. As a child, he used to fish in the coastal waters of Macao but now, with the pollution, he says that the fish are no longer edible and that is why he travels to Thailand two to three times a year to practice using a boat he purchased there. Hunting was another long-time hobby of his, even travelling to mainland China after it opened in the 1980s to hunt water fowls and small game. “They are all very lonely hobbies,” he admits. “But they help me be more patient and also boost my endurance,” which I dearly need.

Gary Ngai Mei Cheong

Rafelle Allego — Tue, 03 Dec 2019 16:34:33 +0800

Gary Ngai Mei-Cheong describes Macao as having a unique identity to those of its neighbours — “Hong Kong, Guangzhou, Shanghai and other Chinese cities” — a point where East meets West, with a bridge to Latin-speaking countries as well. “It is a city not only of gambling but of culture.” Founder and former president of the Executive Board for the Macao Association for the Promotion of Exchange between Asia-Pacific and Latin America (MAPEAL) since it began in April 2005, polyglot Ngai has since passed on the baton to Sonia Chan Prado due to his age, now only remaining a member of the executive board since 2019. “She has been working with me for two decades,” he says, “and quite able to take the lead.” Born in 1932 in Semarang, the capital of Indonesia’s Central Java province, to a sixth generation Chinese-Indonesian family that originated from Fujian province in southeast China, Ngai personifies Macao’s Indonesian community – possessing a multi-cultural background from a diverse upbringing. Son of an accountant in the Dutch colonial government, he was born into a family that had prospered in business, thus affording him a comfortable home to grow up in. With a knack for learning languages, he easily picked up Dutch from his father and schooling, then Mandarin Chinese and Javanese from his mother. He had also gotten the chance to learn English and Japanese in school, as well as Bahasa Indonesian which became the national language after Indonesia gained independence in 1945. His family was also diverse in religious beliefs. One grandmother was Muslim, another grandfather was Buddhist, while four aunts and uncles were Roman Catholic. “I had many religions in my head. Everyone lived peacefully together,” Ngai says, “It was a preparation for Macao, where different languages and religions are respected.” When the People’s Republic of China (PRC) was established in 1949, Chinese communities abroad were hit by excitement and feelings of patriotism, with teachers in his Mandarin-based secondary school encouraging students to return to the “motherland”. One of many youths inspired by this, he left for China in 1950, just two years after the PRC was established, despite some of his greater family opposing this decision. Upon arriving, they were given a hero’s welcome at the port of Tianjin, then transferred to Beijing. While some remained and were assigned to study at China’s leading institutions, he was sent for training at the United Front Department. After a year, he was sent back to Beijing and trained as an interpreter at Renmin (People’s) University, where he attended classes in Russian on Soviet history, economy, philosophy and Marxism and graduated in 1956. He then worked as a top-level interpreter for Mao Zedong, Deng Xiapoing, Peng Zhen, and many other leaders, translating from Chinese to Indonesian, Dutch and English. Asked how he felt about meeting these important figures of the People’s Republic of China, he merely says that it was normal because there were also many other translators working simultaneously; “We were all so young”. He had also been part of the 8th National Congress of the Communist Party of China in 1956, translating inside a box with earphones on and speaking at the same time. After the sessions, he’d translate the speeches into an Indonesian report. At this time, he also learned French, German, Italian, Swedish, Norwegian, and Danish on his own, and started translating in those languages as well, through the guidance of native language experts and self-study. In 1961, he married Molly, an Indonesian Chinese from Medan who had also moved to China in 1951, who was a specialist in English studying at St John’s University in Shanghai. Earning just 86 yuan a month from 1959 until 1979, those years were difficult, especially with his wife pregnant; “She had hardly any milk, so I had to buy some.” Despite the anti-rightist campaign in 1957, he was spared. However, during the Cultural Revolution (1966-1976), he and his family had to spend four years living in Heilongjiang in a “cowshed”, suffering through winters with temperatures that fall as low as 36 degrees Celsius. For a time during this period, they also lived in a relatively poor village in Henan. During the Cultural Revolution, he had many of his books and records confiscated and taken away by the Red Guard. He was also taken to a camp for a week, constantly bombarded the whole time with questions; “So many questions, people become numb.” He also recalls that at one point he had been made wear a white pointed hat and told to walk back and forth in the camp, while guards would kick him. This led to a spinal injury that a doctor later confirmed. “It took a long time to heal.” He was later spared and got to leave the camp. When Ngai’s mother-in-law escaped to Macao after anti-Chinese riots in Indonesia (1965-1966), his wife and two children joined to take care of her in 1978. After his superior initially refused him leaving, his wife wrote a letter to the minister responsible. He was then given approval to rejoin his family in Macao. He was already 47 years old when he moved to Macao, needing to start a new life. “It was hard at the beginning. Macao was a small place and I could not find a job.” However, he soon learnt Portuguese and Cantonese, adding on to his already impressive repertoire of languages. “I do not regret my decision to go to China. It was a decision I took myself. On the positive side, I really understood China from the very top to the very bottom and I made a contribution to the new state. On the negative side, we suffered a lot. I never considered moving back to Indonesia, where I have many relatives. Anti-Chinese sentiment remains and what could I do there?” His mother-in-law joined the Association of Returned Overseas Chinese of Macao; “The overseas Chinese coming from Indonesia in Macao was the second largest community next to those coming from Birma, later called Myanmar.” Ngai had also been appointed one of their advisors in the early 1990s. Ngai’s first job in Macao was at public broadcaster TDM as a translator in the newsroom. Eventually, he worked his way up to be the deputy director of programmes for their Chinese radio channel. He also worked at the Governor’s Palace, becoming a technical adviser to Macao’s last governor, Vasco Joaquim Rocha Vieira, in the period running up to the 1999 handover of administration. As part of that role, he compiled the Chinese news every day, giving Vieira and the Portuguese government local perspectives. “Nobody else [understood] Chinese and I was the only one doing that,” Ngai says, “I was the key man at that to provide the top leaders of government here of what's happening during the transition from the Chinese [perspective]. The gap had to be bridged to have a good agreement for the transition.” As Ngai explains, understanding this local perspective allowed transition in Macao to be much smoother and not copy the mechanisms the British had in place for Hong Kong’s handover. This was because Macao functioned under different conditions that would flounder under a system copied from Hong Kong due to a different culture that had grown under Portuguese rule. Also, “Macao had casinos, but Hong Kong did not”. He then successively became the associate director of the Cultural Affairs Bureau under the Portuguese, founder of the Macau Sino-Lain Foundation — with support from Stanley Ho and Xinhua News, as well as approval from the Governor — and then the former Vice-President of the now-defunct Associação de Ciências Sociais de Macau. He has been the former president of three other associations – the Macao Sun Yat-Sen Association, the Instituto de Estudos Culturais de Macau and the Rotary Club of Macau. He had been in the Instituto de Estudos Culturais de Macau with Ho Iat Seng's father, the late industrialist Ho Tin, who even to this day, he greatly respects for his forward-thinking that Macao's cultural heritage be preserved and developed. Associação de Ciências Sociais de Macau’s importance lay in having supported their efforts at the Hong Kong-Macao Centre in Guangzhou, of which Ngai was an adviser to. They arranged yearly conferences that proposed lots of new ideas for businesses and culture in Macao, Hong Kong, and the other Pearl River Delta cities. Macao Sun Yat-Sen Association was important because after the Kuomintang established Taiwan, ties with China were "scarce". This association, under Ngai, reconnected Taiwan to Mainland China and vice versa, so that dialogue could continue among the civilians and academics. He also shared that Taiwan's first flight to China was through Macao. “They'd land and change the flight number, then fly onward to China.” Nowadays, he lives a quieter life. Ever since retiring from his position at MAPEAL, Ngai spends half the year in Australia with one son, while the other half in Macao with his other son. When he’s not attending MAPEAL events — promoting Macao’s ties with Latin America and the Latin-speaking world — he’s using much of his time recollecting the past and is planning on writing a book based on his reflections. As he says, there were both good and bad aspects of China’s past, and it should be shared with the new generation so they learn to critically think about it. “I was under Mao, and we did a lot of wrong things under Mao in China,” Ngai says, “Many people died...starved, with nothing to eat.” To prepare, he’s now recollecting his memories of the past and the events that have occurred; “I have to read a lot of books before I start.” But the main takeaway he wants readers to get from his planned book is for the young people of China to understand there were mistakes made. “In what you call a modern China,” he says, “don't do the bad things that had happened and repeat the same mistakes in the future. As a Chinese, they must know what was wrong and not make the same mistakes in the future.” “You have to recollect what was wrong at that time in history,” he continues, “Nobody dares write about, so I feel like I should write what was wrong.” He points out that since he’s now outside of mainland China, he can write without fear. Asked when his book might come out, he laughs and says that he will try to finish it soon. “I am almost 90 now,” Ngai further says, “I’ll try to finish the book when I’m 90, before I see God and bye-bye to everyone.”

Albano Martins

Catarina Brites Soares — Mon, 18 Feb 2019 12:31:41 +0800

Albano Martins came for three years and nearly four decades have gone by. He’s lived more than half his life in Macao. He founded ANIMA in 2003 and was its president for 17 years until resigning his position in June 2020 to return to Portugal. Economics was what brought him to the city years ago. But it was never his chosen field nor, he admits, a passion. It just happened. “I always wanted to be an artist,” he confesses. His excellent grades at school changed both his direction and his destiny. “I never thought I’d get a university degree.” He left Angola, where he was born in 1949, when the Luanda Business Association awarded him a scholarship for excellent academic performance. “I only returned in 1968. I had to be pushed onto the plane to return to Portugal and finish my education. And I never went back.” Macao came into view during his studies. He majored in international economics at what is now the Lisbon School of Economics and Management. As one of the best students, he was asked to serve as a monitor in 1971, before finishing the course in 1973. “I had a friend who had a good position here; he thought I would be the right person to take up a post at the Macao Monetary Institute.” Martins accepted, and arrived in Macao on 1 March 1981. He was supposed to stay for three years, but nearly forty have gone by. The ties he created in the territory and the fact that he had better conditions than in Portugal led him to stay on. Macao, he adds, gave him the financial security he had never had in Portugal, even though he was unable to develop academically and professionally as he would have wished. “I feel like I stagnated, but it was a choice. I’m okay with that.” He has nevertheless accomplished much in and for the territory. At the Institute, now the Macao Monetary Authority, he served as general coordinator and assistant director of the training centre, staying until 1991. He left to join the Nam Van company, where he remains. In 1994 he also became executive director of Consultadores Associados, a position he still holds. Along the way he has also held the post of executive director at the following firms: CDG-Simuladores de Gestão (until 2012), GMC-Global Management Challenge (until 2014), GEP-Gestores de Projectos and BDC-Business Development company. He was also the general director of Geocapital Holdings Limited, as well as vice-president of the Macao Management Association, a position he has maintained. Throughout his career he also found time to give classes on economics and finance at the Macao Polytechnic Institute and later to occupy himself with Anima, the Macao Society for the Protection of Animals. That association is what has kept him in Macao.

Anima

His relationship with animals began early, in Moçâmedes, Angola, where he grew up. His father was a shipyard foreman and brought home any sick animals he found, even seals and penguins. That affection was kept in the background in Portugal and during his early years in Macao, and only resumed in 2003, when he founded Anima with ten other members. He decided not to form part of the board but eventually became its president when the granddaughter of the entrepreneur Stanley Ho left the position. And he’s still there today. He is the face of the association, whose original budget of MOP$50,000 has grown to nearly MOP$11 million. It now counts thirty-two full-time and five part-time employees and has certainly made its mark on the territory. The most important achievement was once again due to the efforts of Martins and happened last year when they were able to close the dog-racing track and guarantee the adoption of its more than 500 greyhounds. A historic agreement was reached with Angela Leong, head of the Greyhound Racing Company (Yat Yuen), ending protests that had lasted nearly seven years. Martins also donated more than half a million patacas to Anima when the association was in difficulties. As he said in 2019: “My plans are to return to Portugal next year and come back to Macao every two months to help Anima.”

Politics

There has also been room for politics in the life of Albano Martins, whose seventieth birthday is this coming 24 April. His experiences read like a summary of the recent history of Portugal and its former colonies. “When I left Angola, I was a total fascist. That was how we were educated.” But he was uncomfortable with that, and says he began to read and ask all kinds of questions to learn about the other side, until one day he “exploded.” “I was upset because I lost all the values I’d grown up with and felt that it was all a lot of rubbish,” he states. After his internal rebellion, he began to take part in demonstrations against the regime. “I didn’t go off to the [colonial] war, deliberately, and I didn’t leave Portugal. I was an objector, though I was eventually amnestied,” he explains. Ramalho Eanes, the first directly elected president of the Portuguese Republic, eventually pardoned all those who had opposed the dictatorship. He had taken part in leftist anti-regime movements, besides helping many people keep clear of the PIDE secret police. Now he wants to return to southern Portugal’s Alentejo region, where he has a house and a bit of land to walk around, “which is what I like most.” His wife is waiting for him; in 2007 he promised her he would go the following year. He hopes to finally fulfil that promise next year. He wants to resume the passion for art left by the wayside, which has been followed by his children: one is a designer and the other a photographer. “Two years ago, my wife offered me a beautiful set with everything needed for painting and I haven’t opened it yet. When I arrange a solution for Anima, I want to devote myself to that.”

Cecilia Ho

Macao News — Thu, 22 Nov 2018 12:54:38 +0800

From the beginning

Cecilia Ho still remembers the days when she used to stroll down Praia Grande Avenue watching the boats and the fishermen, while the sun shined upon the Pearl River Delta. This scene would later be present in some of the works by this Macao-born woman who always dreamed of being an artist. “I dreamed about that from a very tender age, 7 or 8. I remember my dream being completely broken in pieces when my art teacher told me ‘Forget about it, judging from your work you’ll never make it’. When she told me this, I was very upset about it, very emotional, but I actually made it.” Born to “a very modest family”, Ho spent some years living in Fai Chi Kei area, “in what we now call temporary houses”. “We were five children, typical during that time when the big family was à la mode. We are four girls and one boy, so that’s probably the reason we have quite a big family because boys are important for both Chinese and European families”, she says. Ho’s education started at Yuet Wah College for girls. After finishing Chinese school, she moved to the English section of Sacred Heart Canossian College. “That (education) thought me how to speak English and then, two years later, I moved to Colegio de Santa Rosa de Lima, which is now quite a different school from the days when I was there. After so many years abroad, when I came back to Macao and visited my mother school, Santa Rosa, the first thing I found out was that they don’t speak English anymore. When I spoke to my principal or teachers during my time there, we would be fined if we didn’t speak English. One sentence, 50 cents, I remember, the perfect carried a picky bag”, she laughs.

Young accomplishments

In 1978, Ho finishes her Form Six level at Colegio de Santa Rosa de Lima and prepares for her first experience abroad. “I’ve studied in England and then, after a few years in London. I came back to Macao, worked in a bank and I met my husband here.” The fact that she met her lifetime companion, a Frenchman, at an early age was decisive: “Absolutely, it changed my life completely,” she admits. Ho soon got married and then followed her husband to different cities. “As he was an expatriate, the first place he took me was to Hong Kong. My first child was born there and soon afterwards he took me to his family, in Singapore.” This was the year of 1989, and that’s when Ho’s art studies begin. “Most of my studies will be after my marriage. My art education all came after my marriage, and even some of it came in Paris later on. I was already a mother and that’s quite a story because not too many mothers would go to school”, she says with a smile. During four years in Singapore, Ho studied art and learned from a particular teacher who specialised in Chinese painting and calligraphy, and also went to Nanyang Academy of Fine Arts while looking after her first child. “After that, my husband took us to Paris, where we’ve stayed for three years and where I was carrying the duties of a wife, a mother, and a student. I’ve studied arts and at the same time I’ve learned how to speak French, and therefore French is considered my third language.”

Artistic passion

In 1994, the family relocates to Hong Kong, where Ho, a mother of a girl and also a boy, lived most of the past two decades. The dream of being an artist persisted, and also the will for teaching art to others. “I always said, ‘if I have a chance I’ll become a teacher’, because an inspiring teacher is important, and therefore I became a teacher later on. When I came back to Hong Kong, I opened an art school, called Cecilia Ho’s Art Club, giving professional art training to people of all ages in a belief that I do agree, which is: art has no complete frame. When you are happy in creating art, you should go ahead. There’s no good art or bad art, art is art itself and all people should believe they could create art.” It was her art school that put her in the way of a student who would open the doors of the British Royal Academy to her works. “I was still a teacher and I enjoyed very much. One day, one of my students came to me and said ‘Teacher, I really enjoy your work. Could you please join the submission to the Royal Academy Summer Exhibition?’ In fact, she was a trustee of the Royal Academy, which in England is a very famous art school”, she recalls. Ho decided to submit three works and two months later the Royal Academy picked six pieces out of hundreds of them. All three of Ho’s works were selected. “I was extremely happy. And since I was announced to be the first Chinese to have exhibited there, they invited me over for the vernissage. I was very emotional because before that I had never participated in a single exhibition. It was a big event in my life, I was interviewed by the BBC and mingling with all the big stars, all the big guys. Then, every year since 1996 – 1997, 1998, 1999 – I submitted my works and I got in consecutive for four years.” Because of her French nationality, Ho also decided, “to participate more on the French art scene”. In 2000, she got selected for the Salon d'Automne, an annual art exhibition held in Paris since 1903, where renowned names such as Paul Cézanne, Henri Matisse and Paul Gauguin have exhibited their works. “I was extremely proud, because of the past history of Salon d'Automne, and then I got in again in 2003 when they celebrated 100 years. I was just a small potato next to some of those big names, but I’m extremely proud that at some point my work was next to theirs.” From this moment onwards, Ho exhibited regularly in Hong Kong and elsewhere. Her work “has evolved from Chinese painting at the time of the Royal Academy, to more abstract at the Salon d'Automne, to architectural work, and later on to photographic work and conceptual work”, over a time span of more than 20 years. “There was a major change on my work when in 2012 I’ve started a very big artistic project, called “Transporting Qi”, transporting people’s qi [that translates from the Chinese as ‘air’ but has a much more powerful meaning that can be summarised as ‘vital force’] from Macao and Hong Kong for over 2000 kilometres.” Qi is formless, and Ho decided to give it a form, with people filling red balloons with their qi. “We were meeting people everywhere and asking them to donate their qi as a symbol of support to the rural part of China in Yunnan, which is now a UNESCO site but it wasn’t when I was doing this project. It’s a very important project to me, it completely changed my work, it was documented in video and photography, and because of this work I’ve been invited to a few countries; Germany, to the documenta in Kassel; Australia, at FotoFreo festival. I also did my first solo in Hong Kong because of this work, I’ve submitted it to the Venice Biennale with Macao, but it was only shortlisted. Because of this, I’ve also had my first Macao exhibition”, she says.

Looking forward

In 2015, Ho decides to come back to Macao and starts working on a new project she kick-started earlier this year: Photo Macau, an art fair devoted to photography and new media. “Despite being away for almost 30 years, I’ve always felt a very strong attachment to Macao, this strong feeling like a baby, fed by its motherland”, she explains. The idea of creating Photo Macau came from Ho’s belief that “the future of art is digital”, and the fact that, “there was no art event in South China dedicated to photography and new media, there’s Art Basel in Hong Kong but it’s just a part of it, it’s not specialised.” Therefore, Photo Macau happens in March, just like Art Basel, and tries to attract to Macao some of the art lovers that visit the neighbour city during that month. The first edition of Photo Macau required big efforts and the result was positive. However, Ho couldn’t avoid feeling a bit disappointed. “Despite all our efforts, it’s difficult to realise that Macao people don’t care about art. It can be quite frustrating, but then I thought ‘if I don't do anything about it, it will be like this forever’, so it may take time but perhaps we can help changing it.” March 2019 will see the 2^nd edition of Photo Macau happening in town, focusing on the Portuguese-speaking countries and also on Turkey, the executive director announces. Used to call home to both Hong Kong and Macao, Ho has an interesting view on both cities regarding their arts scene if we ask her to compare them: “Hong Kong is a city on the move; Macao is a nostalgic city.”

Ip Tat

Cathy Lai — Mon, 23 Apr 2018 18:45:13 +0800

When Ip Tat claims that he has dedicated his whole life to the Na Tcha Temple, it’s not an exaggeration: he was just six years old when he joined the Feast of Na Tcha for the first time. The floating parades, lion dancing, and opera performances left the young child in awe. His admiration of this festive splendour gradually transformed into a religious devotion as he matured. Sitting beneath the shade of an old fig tree near the temple, Ip shares a life story of hard work and success, religious devotion and finding the purpose of life.

Growing up with Na Tcha

Born in Macao on 9 February 1948, Ip holds a number of important titles and social responsibilities: he is chairman of the Na Tcha Temple Association, vice chairman of Macao Taoist Association, Guigang Committee of the Chinese People’s Politics Consultative Conference, and the honorary president of various art groups covering areas such as Cantonese opera and Chinese painting. In 2017, he was appointed as government consultant for Macao’s Cultural Heritage Council. He speaks fluent Cantonese. The trust so many organisations place in him reflects his network, experience and most importantly, his readiness to help. “It’s hard to say no to people,” he smiles. For Ip, it is a way to give back to society and to honour the spirit of the Taoist deity Na Tcha, who centres on loyalty and righteousness. According to legends, Na Tcha, the benevolent child god riding on a pair of flaming wheels, has made several supernatural appearances in Macao, including once in the mid-19th century, when Macao was ravaged by epidemics. To save the suffering, Na Tcha appeared in a man’s dream and told him that everyone should mix water from a mountain stream with Chinese medicine to cure their illness. Spurred by this miraculous intervention, the Na Tcha Temple was built in homage to the child god at the Pátio do Espinho, next to the Ruins of St. Paul, in the late 19th century. Decades later, a young Ip, along with his four siblings, would spend much of his childhood in the same pátio. At that time, the Pátio do Espinho was a village occupied by low-income people who did masonry work and wood crafting, including Ip’s parents. Though living in poverty, the community was strong; people were honest and supportive of one another. “We never had to worry about thievery even if we opened the door of our home every day. One family cooked something and would share the food with other families,” he recalls. “We were like one big family.” The Na Tcha tradition formed a large part of the villagers’ simple lifestyle, with the Feast of Na Tcha, also known as the birthday of Na Tcha, being the major annual celebration. Starting on the 18th day of the fifth month in the Chinese lunar calendar and continuing on for the next four days, it drew people of all ages – including Ip and his siblings, who marched with the parade to sprinkle holy water. “It was such a spectacular event, with children dressing as Na Tcha, firecrackers-grabbing race, and opera performers with elaborate make-up and costumes. For a six-year-old kid, it was quite something to see.”

Surviving Cultural Revolution

The Na Tcha Temple became a regular place for Ip to hang around with other children after school. They did homework there, and listened to stories told by elderly people in the community. It was a time when children had few entertainment options, and for Ip, the temple was a home away from home. The celebration of Na Tcha carried on throughout Ip’s childhood. However, when the storm of the Cultural Revolution swept through the country between 1966 and 1976, even a festivity as deeply rooted in Macao as the Feast of Na Tcha was not spared. “Red guards were everywhere in the city; they sang red songs, called out slogans, and performed revolutionary opera. All religious activities were prohibited because they were regarded as superstitious,” Ip explains. The belief of Na Tcha stayed alive quietly among the neighbours, who continued to worship Na Tcha at the temple and have small-scale dinner celebrations on the child god’s birthday. Meanwhile, Ip quit school after finishing Form 2, a typical choice made by teenagers living in that era. Amid the chaos and economic damage wrought by the Cultural Revolution, he worked a variety of jobs in the hope of advancing: concrete worker, vehicle repairer, factotum, and many more. He met his wife through the introduction of a friend; at that time, he was a mechanic apprentice, and she worked in a garment factory. The two got married after dating for two years. “It was not easy for a man like me to find a wife. I was too poor at that time,” he laughs, admitting that his family was the poorest in the entire pátio. “I dated several girls before meeting my wife, but when they saw where I lived, they got scared.” In 1985, following the launch of economic reforms in mainland China which opened the country to foreign investment, Ip used his savings to establish a logistics company called Tong Fat. It worked in cooperation with two mainland companies to provide logistic support to factories that moved from Macao to mainland China. Even as life improved for Ip and his family, the spirit of Na Tcha remained a major influence on him. “It was all about fun joining the religious events as a kid, but as I grew older, I realized that it really had an impact on me, especially on how I do business” Ip emphasises. “That is, to uphold the principle of honesty and integrity; don’t cheat.”

Reviving the tradition

In 1991, Ip and the elderly people living in the pátio contemplated the possibility of resuming the Feast of Na Tcha. Nearly three decades had passed since the Cultural Revolution halted the tradition, and in the intervening years, the temple had fallen into disrepair. Once central to the community, lack of proper maintenance had led to water leakage and a partial collapse of the patio. The Na Tcha Temple Association was established the same year to ensure better management, and they elected Ip as the chairman. Together, the neighbours raised 150,000 patacas to repair the temple. But Ip and his fellow members remained cautious about resuming the festive activities on Na Tcha’s birthday. “Although the Cultural Revolution was over, the status of religious revival in mainland China was still uncertain,” he explains. “We decided to slowly reintroduce the festive activities, by organising only the celebration feasts and Chinese opera in the first year.” Thanks to Ip’s connection, the former Culture secretary, António M. Salavessa da Costa, was invited to attend the celebration; his presence created quite a stir in the community. Such public support gave Ip and his association greater confidence in reviving the festivity. Gradually, the Feast of Na Tcha made a full return, complete with colourful folk activities such as parades, firecracker-grabbing race, the distribution of ‘peaceful’ rice, and Chinese opera performed for the gods and goddesses. The duration, however, was cut from five days to three due to environmental concerns. In 2003, following Macao’s application to UNESCO for inscription on the World Heritage List, the Cultural Affairs Bureau approached Ip about nominating Na Tcha Temple as a site. Although the temple has a relatively short history, Ip believes it has a huge cultural significance. “We submitted a lot of data, documents and photos, showing what has been done over the century to promote the tradition,” he says. Ip remembers being asked during an interview with then UNESCO Director-General Koïchiro Matsuura: 100 million dollars or the title of UNESCO Heritage Site, which would you prefer? His answer was perhaps what you would expect from someone with a strong attachment to traditions: “The money is useless to me, but the title being granted to the temple will honour our ancestors, and promote Macao’s cultural status.”

Multiple roles

The application proved a success: in 2005, the Historic Centre of Macao, encompassing Na Tcha Temple and 21 other historical sites, was inscribed on the UNESCO World Heritage List. As the home of such culturally and historically significant sites, Macao itself became a World Heritage City, one of around 300 worldwide to receive the honour. Ip continued to contemplate different ideas for promoting the Na Tcha tradition. The recognition of Na Tcha Customs and Beliefs as a non-tangible asset of Macao came in June 2012, followed a month later by the opening of the Na Tcha Exhibition Room. Established in cooperation with the Cultural Affairs Bureau, the exhibition room sits at the original site of the association, and provides an important space to share their history and customs. It features a variety of religious objects, including the Sedan-Chair of Na Tcha and the ceremonial umbrella. Two years later, in 2014, the Na Tcha Customs and Beliefs of Macao were inscribed on the National Intangible Cultural Heritage List. Ip’s deep engagement in temple management and promotion continues to lead him to places all over the world. As a participant on government trips, he’s visited areas such as Malaysia, Taiwan and Anhui province, to learn about their heritage preservation practices. He gives talks at various universities and, in his role as chairman of the Macao Temple Civilization Promotion Committee, leads devotees to visit temples in Southeast Asian countries. In May 2017, he was appointed as one of government consultants for Macao’s Cultural Heritage Council, a new role that he describes as intimidating. “The committee is formed by experts and scholars such as Carlos Marreiros. They are like superstars to me,” he says humbly. “But I am honoured to be a part of this committee. I will do my best and learn from the experienced.” Meanwhile, Ip’s business continues to thrive amid the changing industrial trends of the past decades. Following the decline of manufacturing industries, Ip opened two more companies to expand his business to construction-related projects such as elevator and air-conditioning installation. His companies took part in major construction projects in town, including the building of the Venetian and the on-going light rail project. It’s a success he attributes not just to his business sense and flexibility, but to an important person in his life, someone who has supported him through everything: his wife. “I am a very busy man; my wife has not only helped me take care of my business, but she also raised our son and three daughters well. I am really thankful to her.” With his youngest daughter recently completing a law degree in Portugal, Ip is content with how his children have created their own paths. “I don’t expect them to earn a lot of money; I only hope that they can live an honest life and make contributions to society. That’s what every father wants for their children.”

Sulu, Sou Ka Hou

Cathy Lai — Wed, 04 Oct 2017 08:39:02 +0800

Twenty six-year-old Sulu, Sou Ka Ho (蘇嘉豪) is Macao’s youngest ever-elected lawmaker, having been voted into the Macao Legislative Assembly in September’s general election. He is also the Vice Chairman of the New Macau Association, a major pro-democratic civil group. He is fluent in Cantonese and Mandarin and speaks conversational English. Born on 28 June 1991, Sou was the only child of a typical family in Macao with his father working in renovations to support the family. Sou studied at the Roman Catholic school Colégio Diocesano de São José 5, and remembers himself as a self-motivated student who was always top of his class. Playing football was one of Sou’s favourite extracurricular activities. Not only did he play in the school team as a goalkeeper, he also earned a place in Macao’s national under-18s football team. However, his school performance declined drastically after two months of intensive football training, and eventually, he quit the national team in order to keep up with his studies. Sou’s interest in politics first emerged as a young teenager. “I was 17 and at that time everyone was paying attention to the 2008 Hong Kong Legislative Election. I kept track of its development online and was intrigued by what the politicians had to say.” With a growing interest in political affairs, Sou caught the media’s attention for the first time when he participated in a public hearing during the 2009 Chief Executive Election. Standing up in the hall of Keang Peng School, he asked the Chief Executive hopeful Chui Sai On what practical method he would take to gain the trust of citizens who doubted his ability to govern. “I didn’t give the situation much thought at the time, I just want to ask the questions on my mind,” he recalls. “After the hearing, I was surrounded by the media because they were so surprised to see a secondary school student stepping up to question the executive hopeful.” It came as no surprise when Sou chose to study politics at university. In 2009, he was admitted to the National Taiwan University’s Department of Political Science, where he studied public administration as his major. During his university years in Taiwan, Sou took part in several nationwide protests including No Nuke Action and the Anti-Media Monopoly Movement. However, the events that moved him the most were the small-scale campaigns organised by university students. “I saw students take well-organised actions to halt controversial decisions made by the university, producing flyers, organising protests and surrounding the principal’s office to demand discussions,” says Sou. “As a young person born in Macao, I never thought the power of students could be so great. It was mind-blowing.” “I actually thought about working in a company or government department after graduation, because I believed that I could do good deeds there using the management skills I learnt at university. But, after participating in a number of social events in Taiwan, I started to see politics as a mission.” But the experience that truly turned his head back to social affairs in Macao was his summer internship at the New Macau Association in 2011. “Introduced to the association through a member I met on Facebook, I spent my summer vacation helping out in the office of lawmakers Ng Kuok Cheong, Au Kam San and Chan Wai Chi; the association’s founding members. It was an eye-opening experience where I began to understand Macao citizens’ dissatisfaction. I learnt how to campaign for their needs, from making protest banners and drafting petitions through to negotiating with the government. I could never have learnt this at school.” Upon graduation in 2013 Sou returned to Macao, officially becoming an active member of the New Macau Association. He also applied for an administrative post at his secondary school, but was encouraged by the principal to teach instead. As a result, he ran two classes called Civic Education, and Macao Politics and Society, teaching students about the political developments and social issues of Macao over the past 50 years. During the same year, Sou agreed to become the second-ranked candidate of Au Kam San’s group in the Macao Legislative Election. This is an experience he oddly describes as “stress-free”. “When you know nothing, you don’t feel the stress,” he explains. “My purpose was to learn as much as I could throughout the process, so I just let the experienced people take charge.” With Au Kam San being directly elected, Sulu failed to win a seat that year, as he had expected. However, he continued to be actively involved in Macao’s politics, claiming that; “I am just doing what I think is correct. I don’t care too much whether I will win or lose.” In 2014, Sou was one of the main organisers behind the ‘anti-bill incident’; a citywide march that saw 20,000 citizens protest the notorious pension bill proposed by the government. Recounting the incident that is also known as ‘Glorious May’ Sou says: “It was an experience that solidified my belief in standing up against the unjust.” After the ‘anti-bill incident’, Sou was elected as the Chairman of New Macau Association but left the position to pursue a master’s degree in politics at the National Taiwan University in 2015. It was a tough year, he recalls, because he only had 12 months to finish all the courses that he was supposed to take over two years. “I had to return to Macao in 2016 to prepare for the next legislative election – I wouldn’t have had the guts to run for election if I hadn’t even been in Macao for the whole year running up to the vote,” he explains. Now Macao’s 12th lawmaker voted into power with 9,213 votes, Sou admits that he is facing immense stress, but aims to do his utmost in this role to support the citizens of Macao. He also encourages them to continue fighting for what is right. “We cannot just accept reality and lose faith. After all, we cannot expect the government to improve by itself,” he says. “We have to let those in government know that we’re monitoring all of their actions. They cannot just do whatever they want.”

Yoko Choi

Cathy Lai — Tue, 05 Sep 2017 10:00:28 +0800

Yoko Choi is the Founder and President of the Abandoned Animals Protection Association of Macau (AAPAM). She speaks fluent Cantonese, conversational English and basic Japanese. Born on 16 July 1964, Choi spent much of her childhood in a village house with six siblings and a menagerie of pets; growing up she has cared for everything from cats and dogs through to fish and turtles. Her parents ran a small restaurant, which provided the income to care for this big family. Although she’s always felt a strong bond with animals, as a teenager Choi never thought she’d one day become devoted to animal rescue. “I went straight to Tokyo after finishing high school in 1986, because I wanted to train as a traditional Japanese pastry chef,” she recalls. “But after two years holding down multiple part-time jobs there, I was still unable to save enough to cover the expensive training fees, and so I had to give up.” In 1989, Choi joined her sister in Leeds, England, where she took a one-year English language course. The next year Choi returned to Macao and earned a living here by teaching Japanese and aerobics. She also developed a keen interest in yoga and after years of self-practice, obtained an instructor license from the Sivananda Yoga Vedanta Centre in London in 2002. Choi’s first animal rescue happened not long after she returned from London and became a yoga teacher in Macao. “During a yoga class I was teaching, I received two separate calls from friends, telling me about a St. Bernard that had just been sent to the Macao Municipal Kennel for the fourth time due to her size and skin problem,” she says. “They thought that I could provide her a perfect home because my apartment had a rooftop.” Choi hurried to the Municipal Kennel after work and found that the dog was even bigger than she’d expected. “She was like a pony,” she recalls. However, it didn’t take her long to make up her mind. “I was determined to give her a permanent home. The most amazing thing was, after I took her home, her long-term skin problem subsided. She remained healthy and happy for a very long time.” After homing the St. Bernard, Choi became more and more involved in animal rescue. This led to meeting like-minded animal lovers such as Josephine Lau, who later became Vice President of AAPAM. They formed a group of rescue volunteers, which provided temporary shelter for stray animals, matching them with suitable adopters. However, very quickly the volunteers’ apartments became overcrowded. “When we realised that Macao had many more homeless animals than we’d imagined, we decided that it was time to set up a real animal shelter,” she says. Choi and her friends first rented a space in a remote location in Coloane, but issues around facilities and location quickly made them consider relocating. “Josephine and I paid a visit to Society for Abandoned Animals, an experienced animal rescue and adoption organisation in Hong Kong. Their ‘no-kill’ principle is very close to our beliefs, so we decided to replicate their operation style in our new shelter.” Choi established AAPAM with her like-minded friends in October 2004, after moving all the animals into a factory space in Macao. With improved facilities and a better location, the association then began campaigning to raise public awareness on animal welfare. This included developing an animal sponsorship program and launching an annual Canine Carnival, which offers a fun day out for owners and pets to play games together. The association is also well known for its relentless efforts to urge for the establishment of an animal protection law in Macao. It all began in 2008, Choi recalls, when 11 teenagers were brought to the police station for burning a stray cat. “They only gave a statement in the police station and nothing happened afterwards. We thought this was unacceptable, so we quickly held a press conference and staged the first protest to demand an animal protection law.” According to Choi, the government had forewarned the association that the people of Macao would be unlikely to take interest, “because it was only about animals.” But, to everyone’s surprise, hundreds of local citizens, many bringing along their own pets, congregated for the protest. “Over 500 people joined the protest that day,” Choi enthuses. With the continued support from local animal lovers, AAPAM organised protests every year. By 2013, the protest was joined by a record number of 2,000 people. “The demand was so huge that the Chief Executive of Macao [Chui Sai On] had to call for a meeting with us on the following day to discuss the issue,” she reveals. Eight years later, in 2016, Macao’s first animal protection law was eventually enacted, with the purpose of prohibiting animal abuse and abandonment, and tackling irresponsible pet ownership. This was a great first step, but now Choi believes it is important for the government to closely watch over how the law is executed and can be improved upon. “I am often stopped by people on the street who recognise my face from the protests. They complain that government officials are always fining owners who do not chain their dogs outside. They think that the law is for punishing the owners but not the animal abusers,” she highlights. “No laws can make everybody happy, especially at their beginning, but at least we’ve made the first step.” Currently AAPAM is home to approximately 400 animals, mainly cats and dogs. Many animals continue to be helped by the organisation, but AAPAM still faces challenges, with rising costs and a new need to relocate. Despite the difficulties ahead, Choi remains optimistic about the path she follows. “We are just normal people, but we have managed to come so far and overcome many obstacles. I believe when you really put your heart into something, people will be touched by your passion and offer their support. I just hope that one day, Macao will stop needing associations like AAPAM because people will have developed a better sense of responsibility, and stop abandoning animals in the city.”